Fifteen feet away, the wide River Thames rolled past, dark and deep and mysterious is the sullen-not-quite sunrise.

The Thames was beautiful, dark, and swift beneath the billion yellow and white lights of the city…

The Thames Shouldered its way past Blackfriars Bridge, impatient with the ancient piers, no longer the passive stream that slid past Chelsea Marina, but a rush of ugly water that had scented the open sea...

My New Year’s Eve is always 2 July, the night before my birthday. That’s the night I make my resolutions. And this year scares the life out of me, because no matter how successful, how...