Contents

• Editor’s note
• Osama bin Laden is dead, Obama announces and a reporter learns
• Domestic debates: A reporter builds friendships with appliances
  
• The opposite of anonymous tube rides: Early morning interactions on the Hammersmith and City line
• A banana stuffed with grapes may trump the light-filled ball: Mashing together a baby’s fascinations
• Lego v. stick (short fiction)

Editor’s note

Although a handful of posts ran on this site last week, 1-7 May 2011, this is what I consider The London Report’s first proper ‘issue’. As you can see below, the issue is a compilation of the five posts from last week. They’re arranged in the approximate running order of a classic weekly news magazine, such as Time, Newsweek or The New Yorker.

A newsweekly seemed like a good model for The London Report because I love the way that one story in a magazine often (from a reader’s perspective) leads unexpectedly to the next piece. Compiling each week’s posts into a cohesive ‘issue’ seemed like a fun project.

Just to clarify, I interpret a newsweekly’s structure as: eye-catching art and the name of the publication appears on the cover, a table of contents opens each issue, sometimes an editor’s note appears, then lighter, front-of-the-book articles or essays follow. Harder news articles run and the issue concludes with additional essays or fiction. This first issue of The London Report adheres to that structure with a couple of exceptions. First, I have yet to figure out how to create a decent cover image. Also, the Bin Laden story — which should qualify as a harder news article — is in the front-of-the-book slot. Editorially, that seemed like a fair decision because the story’s importance justifies its appearance at the top of this issue’s running order; simultaneously, the piece qualified as softer news because it — respectfully, I believe — combines news of the death of the leader of Al Qaeda with news of porridge-making.

While this website aims to present news stories, features and fiction with a London-based perspective, as you can read this content is much, much more brief than a proper news magazine. It is also much more reliant on hastily sketched drawings than Time, Newsweek and The New Yorker ever were.

Still, I hope you enjoy the issue. Thank you for reading.

Osama bin Laden is dead, Obama announces and a reporter learns

LONDON — Osama bin Laden, the most hunted man in the world and leader of the terrorist network Al Qaeda, was killed in an attack by United States forces in Pakistan, President Barack Obama announced in a televised address on Sunday night.

‘Today, at my direction, the United States launched a targeted operation against that compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan,’ President Obama said in his address. ‘A small team of Americans carried out the operation with extraordinary courage and capability. No Americans were harmed. They took care to avoid civilian casualties. After a firefight, they killed Osama bin Laden and took custody of his body.’

A reporter in London said, ‘Wow,’ upon hearing the news on Monday morning, as it was reported on BBC Radio 4’s Today programme. The reporter was preparing a breakfast of porridge for his seventeen-month-old son at the time, and he mused to his son that learning this news would be an iconic moment of the reporter’s lifetime.

‘This is a time to remember all those murdered by Osama Bin Laden, and all those who lost loved ones. It is also a time too to thank all those who work round the clock to keep us safe from terrorism,’ said British Prime Minister David Cameron in a statement. ‘I congratulate President Obama and those responsible for carrying out this operation.’

The New York Times and BBC News provide additional coverage of the death of Osama bin Laden.

The London Report’s story of another breakfast is also available.

Domestic debates

LONDON — A reporter in East London spends much of his time working from his kitchen table. He faces limited opportunities to discuss events of the day with other human beings, so he has turned to household appliances for conversation.

‘I really seem to be in tune with Nigel,’ said Matt, the reporter. ‘We share opinions on several important issues. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s also a very talented toaster.’

Here is a recent discussion that the reporter and Nigel had concerning the governor of Wisconsin’s refusal to negotiate with state employees’ unions.

As printed on the drawing, Matt and Nigel’s dialogue is:

Matt: That governor of Wisconsin needs to start negotiating with the state’s unions. Am I right?

Nigel: Yes, you are, Matt. How toasted do you want this bread?

Matt: Just slightly browned. Thanks, Nigel.

Discussing the same issue, the hair dryer, Declan, disagreed with Matt. The following discussion took place just after Wisconsin’s Republican-led legislature passed the anti-union bill.

As printed on the drawing, Declan’s dialogue is: I agree with the Wisconsin state representative Scott Suder, leader of the Republican majority, when he said, ‘The vote we took wasn’t the easy thing to do, but it was the right thing to do.’

‘All in all, I really enjoy speaking to all appliances around the house,’ Matt said. ‘I had no idea that they led such colourful lives and such interesting things to say. Just yesterday, I was talking to the radio, Georgina, about Father’s Day — well, I think it was the radio I was speaking to, not someone’s voice being broadcast on a radio station. She told me this funny story about a Father’s Day art project she was assigned when she was in primary school (I assume that radios go to school just like people and toasters). The teacher gave the students an assignment to draw a man who they admired. Most radios drew their fathers. However, this all happened back in the mid-’80s when Georgina was really into The Cosby Show. So she drew a picture of Bill Cosby. Her dad, who she described as “an old transistor radio,” was pissed. And just think: if I didn’t work from home, I probably never would have gotten to know Georgina, Nigel, Declan, Albert, Jon, Chris, Ian, Liz, Nick, Jo, Bill S., Bill W., Lavender, Rupert and the other delightful household appliances.’

The opposite of anonymous tube rides

Over the past two Tuesdays, I’ve been leaving extra early for work. Instead of walking out the door at 6.45 a.m., as I had done for the past few months, I’ve been leaving home at 5.45 and boarding a tube at about 6.00.

My new schedule has been noticed by a local newspaper and a group of commuters in a carriage on the Hammersmith and City line.

Here are the commuters from last week.

As printed on the drawing, the three commuters’ dialogue is:

Man on left: I say, isn’t that that bloke Matt? This isn’t his usual train. He must have woken early due to insomnia or gas. I bet it’s gas.

Man in centre: Right. He usually catches a train an hour or so later. Uh oh, maybe WE are the ones who are on Matt’s usual train. Sod it all! I overslept! So did you lads!

Man on right: Calm down, lads. Says here in a front-page story that Matt set his alarm so he could join us on our train. How lovely.

Here are the men from yesterday morning, when they discussed a couple of the unintended physical effects my presence seems to be causing on their train, and possibly beyond.

As printed on the drawing, the three commuters’ dialogue is:

Man on left: I wore glasses today to make sure I see Matt if he should board our early train two weeks in a row. Blimey, he’s here!

Man in centre: You should have your head examined, mate. It looks to be smaller this week than it was last Tuesday.

Man on right: The Express has significant coverage of the effects of Matt’s early-morning tube rides. Seems that several people have noted shrunken heads or they’re like me — they look to be becoming a snowman.

A banana stuffed with grapes may top the light-filled ball

Over the past few months my seventeen-month-old son has been fascinated by lights and balls. He has realised that lamps and overhead lights around the house are switched on and off. When he wants one to be turned off, he says, “Bye-bye.” I usually try to switch off the light when he wants it switched off.

For months, he has loved playing with balls. He plays with them all around the house, and at parks. At day care, they installed a ball pit that he seems to think is one of the greatest places to be in the city.

At a museum gift shop, my wife and I found an object that combines two of my son’s biggest fascinations: it’s a ball that lights when it’s bounced. Our son loves the ball. The sole thing that I can imagine that he’d enjoy more than his light-up ball would be something that combines his two favourite foods: a banana stuffed with grapes.

Lego v. stick

Last weekend my wife and I were eating lunch at an outdoor table of a neighbourhood café. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon and, aside from me and Emily, the only people around were three boys. Aged about eight, seven and five years old, they were walking along the pavement, towards our table.

When they reached us, the oldest boy pointed toward the café and said, ‘I met my first girlfriend in there.’

The seven-year-old said, ‘Yeah, your girlfriend is a stick!’

‘She’s a Lego!’ said the youngest boy.

This cracked up the younger kids and Emily and I chuckled about the younger boys making fun of their older friend. A few minutes later, we had finished our lunch and decided to have a coffee. I walked back into the café. Seated at a table near the door were a stick and a Lego. I’d not seen them earlier, but there they were, crying and arguing.

‘He loved me first,’ said the Lego.

‘He loved me first,’ the stick said.

‘You’re so wrong,’ said the Lego.

‘He loved me first,’ the stick said. ‘And he loved me the most.’

As I ordered and waited for the woman behind the counter to make coffees, I told them that there were plenty of other decent boys who would be interested in going out with a stick or a Lego but it didn’t seem to make them feel any better.