In early March I  (along with my fellow newbie restauranteurs Rudy and Bas) will be opening my first restaurant, Wahleeah

In case you’re wondering about the name, it is taken from the phonetic spelling of an old Brooklyn slang term “wallear” which means to have a craving for a certain type of food.

As for the food, many dishes will be cooked using different beers and there will be a wide range of craft and boutique beers to enjoy along side it

Check out our menu


Brunch Menu

(from 10-3)

Beer biscuits & sausage gravy

Cornflake coated french toast with bacon & maple butter

Pigs head sausage, fried egg, cheese hollandaise in a brioche bun

Kedgeree with IPA poached smoked haddock

Brisket Hash

Pancakes with fruit beer jam

Avocado and Berkswell Cheese omelette

Fried green tomatoes, poached eggs, pico de gallo, toast

On weekends we will be offering a range of Bloody Beers


(from 12-6)

Chicken pastrami, beer cheddar, baby gem lettuce

Brooklyn Brown Ale

Field mushroom braised in Japanese beer & teryaki, wasabi mayo, dikon slaw

Hitacho Nest White Ale

IPA glazed pork belly, apple & celeriac slaw, smoked apple mayo

Four Pure IPA

Small Plates

(from 12-10)

Chicken meatballs with mushroom mash and beer gravy

St Stefanus Blonde

Oxtail & onions in stout with horseradish toast

Fullers Black Cab

Crab Cauli cheese

Weihenstephan Hefe Weissbier

Stuffed mushrooms with beer & soy aroma

The Mayor of Garratt

Potted pigs cheeks in cider butter with toast

Duchesse de Bourgogne

Beer cured Salmon with house pickles

Nonge Wit

Tater Tots with choice of the following toppings

Beer Chilli

Bacon Beans

Mushroom gravy V

all with roasted garlic mayo

Odells 90 Shilling

Large Plates

(from 6-10.30)

The Wahleeah Burger, topped with beef bacon, horseradish cheddar and beer ketchup

Frontier Lager

Turkey burger, topped with black garlic cheese and apple cider mayo

Sierra Nevada Pale Ale

Mussels cooked in beer with shredded ham hock

Blanche De Namur

Whole bream with beer braised fennel and crayfish mash


42day aged ribeye, with beer fondant potatoes and brocolli rab, with stout steak sauce

Maverick (Fyne Ales)

Tuna meatloaf, polenta nicoise and bloody beer sauce

Er Boqueron

Ricotta dumplings with rainbow chard, mushrooms and beer butter



(from 12-10)

Endive, with kale, pear and stilton, walnut dressing

Big Chief

Smoked cucumber, confit baby leeks, pickled radish, leaves, carrot & ginger dressing


Devilled duck hearts, roasted plums, beer braised lentils, rocket, orange and ale dressing

Decadence Stout

Chargrilled baby gem, Berkswell cheese, crutons and IPA ceaser dressing

Founders Pale Ale


Chocolate stout brownie with beer icecream

Lindemans Kreik

Porter cheese cake with chili sauce

Beavertown Smog Rocket

Oreo Trifle

Bristol Beer Factory Stout

Spice rum jelly with lime marshmallow & cola cream

Bachata Rum Beer

Bar Snacks

(from 6-close)

Kale Crisps with anchovy salt

Shrimp and pea fritters with cracked black pepper vinegar

Deep fried Mac and cheese balls

Buttermilk onion rings with beer bbq sauce

Follow us @WahleeahSW6 for updates

Nothing Hurts Like Hope

There is an old saying in football “It’s the hope that kills you!”

This is also true when you are dealing with a very sick child

I’ve spent far too much time in children’s hospitals over the last year,  far too much time seeing the parents and loved ones of small children struggle to cope with their child’s diagnosis. It’s not seeing the tears or the despair that hits you hardest, it’s seeing the hope etched on their faces, the belief that somehow, some way things will be ok.

I’ve seen that look on my own face, caught my reflection in the glass as I waited, composing myself at the door to my niece’s room before painting on a smile and praying she would believe it. Being around sick children changes you, being in a pressure cooker of emotions, battling fear and hope at the same time. knowing sooner or later you are going to succumb to one of them, it causes you to re-evaluate things

Walking through the ward you pass families going through a range of emotions, you see a lot of tears, a lot of consoling and comforting,  you see lots of guilt, irrational, ill deserved guilt, that something a parent did or didn’t do has caused this, it’s completely illogical of course, in the vast majority of cases no matter what a parent did or didn’t do their child would have ended up where they now are. However with all the varying emotions jockeying for position in a children’s ward, logic has to wait outside in the corridor.

Above all of these, pressing down on the place like an increased gravity, there is hope.  No matter how hard to try to push it down, to bury it with logic, pragmatism, rational thought it won’t stay there. It’s like a punch drunk fighter, getting repeatedly knocked down but time and again he struggles somehow to his feet, only to set himself up for another hit, everyone in the arena silently prays he will stay down but at the same time they cheer when he gets back up.

I saw the parents of a beautiful little girl, not yet three years old, after they got the news from her doctors that there was nothing more they could do for her, I felt my heart break as her father told us of their news. These were good people, they helped my sister and brother in law immensely when my niece first came to Kings College Hospital, their little girl was only just a bit younger than Olivia, while no one ever deserves to get that kind of news, these people certainly didn’t. Despite this, despite every set back in his daughter’s fight, despite every piece of bad news they had been dealt, I could still see the hope in his eyes, even if the only hope that was left was for a miracle, it was still there.

And that’s the flip side of it, as damaging and debilitating as hope can be, we need it, sometimes it is all that sustains us

When you’ve been walking through a long dark tunnel for long that you no longer remember what the sun feels like, if you see a light at the end of the tunnel you will rush to towards it, even at the risk of it being an oncoming train.

I’ve sat by my niece’s bed after her surgery and felt so many different things, I’ve felt sad, heartbroken, to see her lying there. I felt so proud of her I thought my heart would burst for how brave she has been, no 4yr old should ever have to be brave but they are, far braver than you or I, not weighed down with an adult’s self pity or “why me” attitude. I’ve felt angry, angry at the world that a child should have to go through this, angry at myself because I can’t fix it, I can’t change places with her, angry that I can’t drag what’s wrong with her into a room and beat the crap out of it to make it leave her alone. I’ve felt fear, been more scared at times than I’ve ever been in my life but it’s not these that have kept me awake at night, it’s the hope.

I’ve come back from the hospital and sat in my flat and I’ve sought out hope, the way an addict seeks out a hit, I’ve craved it, I’ve prayed for it, I’ve even feared I wouldn’t find it. Like an addict I’ve felt shame that I needed it, weak that I couldn’t survive without it but at the same time comforted that I had it because it’s that hope that gets you up the next day and keeps you going.

I will cling to hope every day till my niece is better, hope that once she is she will never have to go through something like this again, hope that we can give her all the love and support that she needs to get through this. Above all I hope for her that as an adult she never has to deal with watching a child she loves go through something similar

I have set up a GoFundMe Page to help with Olivia’s on going medical expense

Here is the link: http://t.co/A443ySJtyn

Any help would be greatly appreciated

Bar Menu For Oslo


Braised oxtail, smoked bone marrow may0

Pulled pork, apple & jalepno mayo

Southern fired chicken thigh, bbq ketchup

Veggie burger, harissa & hummus burger sauce

Sloppy joe with bacon cheese

Bar Buckets

Brined & deep fried chicken poppers in BBQ sauce

Corn puppies in BBQ batter with honey mustard dipping sauce

Tartar battered whitebait with Beer Mayo


Double cooked, hand cut chips with smoked horseradish salt

Death by Bacon
Double cooked chips, tossed in cured bacon fat & bacon salt served with bacon ketchup

Duck and Slobber
Double Cooked Chips, tossed with confit duck meat, served with plum ketchup

Oxtail Poutine
Double cooked chips, covered in braised oxtail gravy & cheese

Thank you just doesn’t seem enough

Today marks the 3rd anniversary of my trial shift at The Ship in Wandsworth, 3 years since I stood trembling outside the kitchen door working up the courage to walk in and put a life long dream on the line. I just wanted to take this chance to thank the people who have helped me live that dream every day since.

Firstly I want to thank Oisin Rogers, who started me on this road, Osh not only opened the door for me but pretty much pushed me through it. He arranged that very first trial shift at The Ship and in doing so provided me with a dream environment for a chef to learn his trade. To be able to cut my teeth in a kitchen of that calibre where standards are incredibly high and the focus is on producing exceptional food with every dish was the making of me. Since that first day Osh has remained a true friend who has always been there ready to give me a pat on the back or a kick in the arse as needed.Thank you

To my friend and mentor Grant Hawthorne who, when I truly felt that I was washed out and it was time to give up my dream talked me in to going back into the kitchen and giving it another go. He thought me that the most important quality a good chef must have is integrity.

To chefs like Mat Follas, Johnnie Mountain, Russell Brown and Mark Lloyd who have given me invaluable advice and support throughout my career.

To chefs like Mark Poynton, Nathan Outlaw, Tom Kerridge and Richard Corrigan who inspire me to be better.

To Ben Spalding from whom I learned to question everything when composing a dish, to look at it from every angle so that I might try and elevate every element

To Ed Francis and Phil White who showed me that a good chef is nothing without a great front of house team, sometimes I would simply watch in awe from the pass at how they ran a room.

To my two longest suffering sous chefs Keira Daniels and David Paton who have tried to always attach a method to my madness, having a sous who believes in what you want to do as a chef makes any goal easier to achieve, never once have either said “it can’t be done”. If I have had success it is down every bit as much to you as it is to me.

To my sounding board and wonderful friend John Comyn who has probably heard about every dish I’ve ever cooked before I ever cooked it but has never lost his enthusiasm to help me, like wise to Greg Start the one person (I think I am right in this) who has eaten everywhere I have cooked and lived to tell the tale. He even trusted me enough to bring his now girlfriend to eat at my restaurant as their first date (no pressure there then)

To Mick Dore who took a chance on a guy with 7 months experience and gave me the opportunity to show I could run a kitchen, I understand the risk you and Sarah took and will always appreciate it.

To Ben Walton who handed me the keys to his restaurant and  gave me the chance to truly understand myself as a chef, I can’t begin to imagine how nerve racking that must have been.

To DHP Family and all at Oslo Hackney and to George who has challenged me to best chef I possibly can and given me a dream stage on which to showcase my talent. despite elements beyond our control we will deliver a truly stunning venue to London

To all those friends who have given me their time to come to tastings and openings and given me the type of honest opinion that I trust and that help make me a better chef, you know who you are and you know how much I appreciate your help

To all of those who doubted me or knocked me, you made me stronger and more determined to succeed

To everyone who helped with KaiWeCare and every other charity endeavour I have undertaken or been a part of, you have thought me what an incredible industry this is to be involved in, full of people who give of themselves for a worthy cause not for any other reason than it is the right thing to do. This industry may not be perfect but the people who strive constantly to make it better never lose sight of why we do this. No industry gives back more than ours and does so without the need for adulation or even recognition.

Most of all thank you to Alice Proctor, without you it simply wouldn’t have happened

Menu for Oslo Hackney

Oslo Menu

Small Plates

Salmon BLT (bacon made from salmon, smoked tomato & lettuce butter)
Cod Cheeks, Berkswell crumb, tartar sauce , potato matchsticks
Potted mushrooms, pickled cauliflower and toast
Apple & Horseradish cured Mackerel, pressed apple, griddled cucumber
Beetroot tarte tatin, smoked yoghurt, herbs
Crab Cauliflower cheese and toast
Mini nut roasts, beetroot dip
Beef neck soup with bone marrow dumplings


Hot smoked salmon, avocado jellies, mixed leaves with sea breeze dressing
Marinated char grilled winter vegetables, lambs lettuce, honey mustard dressing
Chicken and Egg Salad, sousvide hen’s egg, wrapped in chicken pastrami with braised baby gem and tarragon & cider jellies
Blackstrap treacle cured bacon, mixed leaves, quails eggs, herb croutons, ketchup dressing

Large Plates

Pan fried plaice, glazed chicken lollipop, sautéed sea vegetables and Jerusalem artichokes
Pan roasted & poached chicken breast, garlic mushroom mash, bacon & butter sauce
Salt baked celeriac, spinach puree, beetroots, warm pickled quails egg
Blackened squash, bulgar wheat risotto, berkswell crumbed flat mushroom
Cod, smoked eel crushed potatoes, clams & parsley liquor
Gloucester Old Spot Pork fillet, carrot and parsnip rosti, pear & cider sauce, cider soused blackberries
Oslo Burger
42day aged Devon Longhorn patty, 12hr braised oxtail, horseradish cheddar, smoked bone marrow mayo & hot oxtail shot

To Share
42 day aged bone in Orkney rib-eye, roasted bone marrow, beef stock fondant chips, buttered kale and bone and beer sauce

Winterberry trifle with, rose jelly and lemon possett top
Aquavit poached pear, fennel ice cream
Cucumber sponge with gin & tonic icing
Peanut butter cheesecake, caramel bananas (to share)

Bitchin’ in the Kitchen

The spat between restaurateur Keith McNally and critic Giles Coren is the latest in a list of chef (restaurateur) / critic bust ups that are becoming more and more common.

I should point out that I personally think Coren is a monumental bellend who thinks the least important part of a restaurant review is the restaurant itself. The last review of his I suffered through was of The Olive Branch in Rutland, luckily I’ve eaten there myself so I didn’t have to rely on his cursory mention of the place in his final 3 paragraphs. Coren behaves like he is reviewing restaurants in a Guy Ritchie movie and every sentence drips with his own sense of self satisfaction.

Coren has the level of annoying smugness that even the most devout Buddhist could happily wear out his sandals kicking him repeatedly in the testicles but his spat with McNally is a reflection of how the relationships between chefs and reviewers are becoming increasingly strained.

Last year a hitherto unknown (and hopefully henceforth unknown) food blogger called James Isherwood attracted the combined fury of some of the biggest named chefs in the industry after an unflattering review of Claude Bosi’s Hibiscus. The review itself wasn’t the problem (as long as you over look the terrible writing) it was the fact that Isherwood had spoken to Bosi in the kitchen after the meal and told him how he had enjoyed his meal thoroughly, with no mention of the criticism he was later to level in his review. Bosi has been in this business a long time and, even for a chef of his brilliance, has received bad reviews before but is was the dishonesty that he perceived from Isherwood that lead to him confronting the blogger on Twitter. Soon other chefs joined in and suddenly Isherwood was claiming he was a victim of unprovoked attacks from big bullying chefs. Shocked and morally outraged social media-ites rushed to his defence, desperate to protect James from being “bullied” by big bad chefs. The only problem with a campaign to save James from abuse is that it was like a campaign to save a particularly icky insect from extinction. You hear that this insect is on the verge of extinction and you think “oh no how terrible” then you find out that it reproduces by laying eggs in your scrotum and you think “ah well maybe it’s for the best”. Isherwood eventually turned on many of the people who were defending him and his attempts to forge a career as a professional victim were hampered by laughably bad writing and him being a bit of a dick.

One thing that his 15 minutes of relevance (“fame” is too strong a word) did highlight is that these rows were no longer limited to chefs and big name restaurant critics, no longer was the wrath of superstar chefs reserved for big name restaurant critics, with the explosion in social media based reviews chefs are now brought into direct contact with far more customers than ever before. Every plate they send is a potential review, either on a blog, a review site or live updates for every course via Twitter, Tumbler, Facebook and many more. While restaurant managers in high end eateries will most likely recognise a critic from the print world the odds of them noticing a blogger or a customer who is likely to post a review on website are far far smaller.

Ok! OK! I know what you’re about to say, “it shouldn’t matter if the customer is a reviewer or not, they should all be treated the same!” and I agree completely, but let me in on a little secret, if you’re told in a restaurant that there is only 1 portion of scallops left and you and the guy on the next table order them at the same time, look across, if he looks a bit like Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall in a D’Artanian wig that’s Jay Rayner and he’s getting your scallops, sorry mate!

As chefs we strive for recognition, any chef who says he doesn’t try and find an extra 5 or 10% when told there is a reviewer in is lying. This is an incredibly competitive business and a review in one of the main stream press or popular blogs can make a massive difference in numbers booking. The flip side is however that a bad review can be disastrous. In an era where so many review sites couldn’t really give a fuck if you’ve even visit the establishment you are slagging off, for that matter TripAdvisor will happily publish your post claiming that while dining at a 3 Michelin star restaurant you were verbally abused by Ant & Dec while Lord Lucan pissed in your soup before being beating up by the chef and charged £8,000 for a single water biscuit. Given the pressure or bad reviews, whether real or invented, it’s not hard to see why chef’s tempers are a little short.

Is this to say people should not complain when they have a bad meal? Certainly not, but when that complaints is raised not during the meal but days later on a blog how fair is it to the restaurant. Given no chance to make amends at the time, restaurants are left wondering if the complaint was withheld because it would make for a far juicier blog post which leads them to often wonder if the complaint was simply invented to spice up a review.

Gordon Ramsay Vs AA Gill, Thomas Keller Vs Corby Kummer, Guy Fieri Vs Pete Wells, JC Novelli Vs Toby Young, Marco Pierre White Vs just about everyone, chef V critic rows are nothing new but they do seem to be on the up. The fact of the matter is that chefs and critics need each other but it’s a strained and fractious relationship and getting more strained every day. Critics see chefs as egotistical primadonnas who refuse to accept criticism and believe anyone who isn’t eternally grateful to simply have been allowed into their restaurant and that their writing be it in praise or rebuke helps build a reputation, as Malcolm X said “If you have not critics, you’ll likely have no success”

Chefs, and I have spoken to many of them about this subject, feel that they have worked incredibly fucking hard, through long hours in a tough physically demanding profession to earn the right to put their name on a menu, a menu which is then judged by someone who in most cases has not had to do anything but book a table and own a laptop to criticise their hard work. As Brendan Behan once said “Critics are like eunuchs in a hareem, they know how it’s done, they’ve seen it done every day, but they’re unable to do it themselves”

When I first started out as a food writer, well before I became a chef, I told my editor that I wouldn’t review restaurants unless they were willing to pay for me to go there 3 times (needless to say they told me to go fuck myself) the way that Michelin do when they review a restaurant. Now regular visitors to this blog will know that I have in fact reviewed Basil & Mint in Fulham but in my defence 2 more visits there could well have killed me.

Whatever happens, the long running soap opera of chef Vs critics feuds is very far from over.

Make A Small Difference

“We don’t do these things because we think we can change the world, we do them because we can not not do them” Martin Sheen

I am not writing this post to preach, I don’t preach, I rant, I shout, fuck knows I swear but I do not preach.

A couple of weeks after taking over the kitchen at The Old Crown I was making my way home via Victoria on a Friday night. Burger Breakout was about to launch and my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of what I had to do to be ready in time. I turned on to Victoria Street and was about to head into the Sainsburys Local to pick up some food when I noticed a homeless man sat outside with his dog. He wasn’t pestering passers by for money he was simply sat there with a tattered paper cup, stroking the dog’s head. I was almost through the door before I actually saw him, having been distracted by my own thoughts and the fact that the store was about to close. My first thought was that I would give him some money on my way out, I have never been someone who can walk past a homeless person without giving them something. Then I thought, what if he’s hungry, money isn’t much good to him if he wants to buy food for himself or the dog and the fucking shops shut. I decided I would pick up something for him and the dog to eat and give him whatever change I had left.

When I emerged from the shop, I stood in front of him for a few moments before he seemed to realise I had stopped for him. I handed him the bag and said there was some food in there for him and the dog. He seemed stunned, I had to gesture for him to take the bag several times before he slowly reached for it. Once he’d taken it I dug out the change I had in my pocket and gave him that too. I’ve never been one of these people who gives a homeless person money and then tells them “don’t spend that on drugs or drink”, giving someone a few poxy quid doesn’t give you the right to lecture them on how to spend it, your charity shouldn’t come with pre conditions. My attitude is that these people have survived on the street long enough to know what they need most at that moment, if what they need then more than anything is a drink or a hit then let them have it, it’s none of my business. This guy however didn’t seem drunk or drugged up, if anything he just seemed sad, sort of resigned. I offered him a couple of cigarettes to keep him going and lit one for him. He had made several attempts to thank me but I just waved them off and said it was no big deal, to be honest I felt embarrassed that another adult should be so overwhelmed with gratitude for what amounted to such a small gesture. Then he said something that I will never forget, he told me I was the first person to talk to him since Wednesday morning. To be honest I almost missed it, I was starting to feel awkward at all this thanks and just wanted to finish my own cigarette so I could flag a taxi to go home (on Friday nights I would get a cab to avoid sharing the bus with drunk office workers on their way home from after work drinks), when he said it. This guy wasn’t holed up in a flat with the door bolted, he wasn’t in some isolated cottage in the middle of rural Wales he was in the middle of a city of near on 10 million people and for 3 days not one of these people had even spoken to him. I looked at him as he gathered up his things making ready to move on somewhere, maybe to set up pitch where there were still people ( a closed Sainsburys isn’t going to attract any people who might spare him a quid) or maybe to somewhere for him and his dog to sleep rough for another night, and I thought how many other homeless people have the same story to tell, how many have been ignored for days, not just not spoken to but maybe not given any spare change as well. I felt I couldn’t sit in the back of a taxi simply because I didn’t want to endure a 30 minute bus ride with drunk office workers, that money could be spent buying food for people who may not otherwise have anything to eat. I almost pushed one of the Sainsbury’s staff aside as I went back into the shop, having made the decision that I would use the cab fare to buy sandwiches and give them to the homeless. I ignored the repeated “sir we’re closing” shouts from the staff member I’d barged past and started grabbing what sandwiches were left in the fridge before hurrying to the one till that was still open. I can’t imagine what the girl must have thought, having seen me almost force my way into the place before frantically grabbing up every sandwich I could carry but she rang up my purchases and gave me a very curt “good night”. Less than 2 minutes after having this bright idea I found myself back on the street holding a fuck load of sandwiches with no idea how I would give them out. I looked to where the homeless guy I’d been talking to was but he was now gone.

I started walking, working my way though the back streets around the station with no route or plan in my head. If I saw a homeless person I approached them and offered them a sandwich. I felt a bit silly, embarrassed even. I mean what the fuck must I have looked liked, this bloke who’s built like a shed clutching a near to bursting Sainsburys bag and holding out a sandwich. Some happily took them, others eyed me with suspicion and some simply ignored me so I left a sandwich on the ground near them and moved on. Some 45 minutes after I first saw that homeless man and his dog I gave away my last sandwich, this was actually the sandwich I had bought for myself when I first entered the store, and made my way to the bus stop to go home.

This became a regular Friday night thing, I would finish work and then go any buy £25 (the cost of my cab home) worth of sandwiches and start walking around giving them out, every week I would choose a different route, thinking that by doing so I was more likely to come across people I hadn’t seen before. I would stand and chat to some for a few minutes, it’s the same idle chat you have with a stranger on public transport or in a waiting room. As the weather got colder I began to feel that sandwiches were not enough, I wanted to find a way to give these people hot food. I eventually got in touch with The Simon Community who run a Street Cafe, giving out tea and coffee along with sandwiches donated by Pret to the homeless at St Giles Church on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, I said that if I cooked a hot meal like a stew could they also give that out to the people they helped. They were more than happy to accept the help and we grew from 40-50 people being fed per day to over 200 on a weekend.

Luckily we have been helped by some wonderful people through Twitter, people like @AllThingsMeaty, @KellyCeeks, @ForzaWin, @BrunoFrenchBakes, as well as suppliers @3StarVeg and Melfar and venues like @HouseofWolf and @TheOldCrownPub who have provided the facilities for us to cook the meals not to mention @DaveEatsBurgers who like me has not only cooked the meals but subsidised them as well, and amazingly by a guy like Ben Spalding who when people were queuing to get into his restaurant for his Sunday Roast was giving us 40 portions to give out to the homeless and who when we were in greatest need told me to come and help myself to the contents of his walk in so we could feed all those we need. (I am sure I have forgotten some people and if so I am very sorry). Somehow through these people we find the food to feed the homeless that turn up every week even if it is a struggle, last week 80ltrs of stew went in 90mins and this week almost as fast, but we will attempt to rise to the challenge.

So why am I writing about this? Is it to make myself feel good, or attract praise? I assure you it’s not, you don’t feel praise worthy after given food to homeless people, you feel embarrassed that you can’t do more, that you can’t give them somewhere warm to sleep, you feel angry that there are so many more you haven’t helped, you feel frustrated that the problem even exists you even feel ashamed that when you’re finished you get to go home to your nice warm flat but you certainly don’t feel worthy of praise or accolade. So why then?

This is 2013 in one of the wealthiest countries in the world and in its capital city every night people sleep on the streets. London is a world capital, one of the truly great international cities. Last year the world shone it’s attention on London and it wowed them, it dazzled them, it made them fall in love all over again. Like a wrongly thought faded star, it trod the boards one more time and it brought the house down and all the while, amidst all the glitz and the glamour people were sleeping on the streets.

I said at the start that I am not going to preach and I am not, I am simply going to ask. I won’t ask you to change the world, just to change someone’s day. Don’t look at a homeless person and see a vagrant or a nuisance, see them for what they are, someone’s brother, someone’s daughter. Someone who when they were a child shared the same dreams you did of long hot summer holidays and opening presents on Christmas morning. Don’t think that they wanted to end up homeless, no one but no one ends up on the streets without a fight, without turning to someone for help and being let down. Before you rush past them to your tube, stop, picture yourself sat where they are. Imagine if someone flipped a switch and that was you, now imagine being sat there for 3 days and not one of the people passing by talking to you? A couple of quid, or a sandwich can make a difference to these people, but the very fact that someone still cares enough to take the time to stop and acknowledge them, that is what makes the biggest difference.

I’m not asking you to make a big difference, I’m just asking you to Make A Small Difference #MASD, I want to see that hashtag popping up so that it encourages others to make that their own small difference