You know when it’s baking and the heat is just bouncing off everything, you step in the shadows and the temperature instantly drops ten degrees? It ain’t sticking around, just bouncing right back. Anyway, I withstood this onslaught for ten minutes at London Bridge station before cramming into a train full of half-cut sweaty football fans and heading home. As the train meandred between the rooftops of Bermondsey, I caught sight of, for no more than half a second, a seagull nesting in a chi...
