London’s five most romantic neighbourhoods

From Hackney Wick to Eel Pie Island, “London For Lovers” reveals the city’s best date spots.

Forget Paris. London is today’s amorous city of choice, according to a new book, London for LoversBeautiful photography accompanies short guides to the city's finest romantic neighbourhoods - from the well-trodden (Notting Hill) to the less expected (Crystal Palace, anyone?).  Here are five worth discovering on Valentine's Day:

Lincoln's Inn Field

The largest public square in London, framed by the Gothic spires of the redbrick Lincoln’s Inn society of lawyers, this park is surprisingly easy to miss whilst power-walking down Holborn high street.

“Picnicking on the Field under the spring blossoms feels like stepping back in time,” write the authors, Sam Hodges and Sophie Vickers. Springtime it may not be, but the Inn has other curiosities to offer. The Hunterian Museum, a “less romantic but more macabre detour” on the park’s southside, is a bizarre collection of medical oddities. Collated by eighteenth century surgeon John Hunter, the museum boasts pickled foetuses and the skeleton of The Irish Giant, a 7 foot 7 inch wonder named Charles Byrne.

Dulwich and Forest Hill

The Dulwich Picture gallery, with its “crimson walls and topsy-turvey crowded galleries”, makes an ideal haunt for art lovers. It was also England’s first public art gallery whose first collection came as the gift from “eccentric” collector Sir Francis Bourgeois. He even bequeathed his own body to the museum.

Also recommended are the London Recumbents, cycle-hire specialists on the corner of Dulwich Park, where couples can hire “adult tricycles” with side-by-side seating, handy for roaming the surrounding greenery.


Wapping is an atmospheric neighbourhood on the “brooding foreshore” of the River Thames laying claim to two titles of “the oldest”. The Prospect of Whitby calls itself the oldest Thames-side pub in existence, dating from 1543, while the glorious Wilton’s Music Hall, which has survived demolition scares and a takeover bid by Weatherspoons, has been around since 1725 (when it was an alehouse serving Scandinavian sailors).  This romantic venue is the oldest music hall in the world; comprised of a “pillar strewn” concert room and the Mahogany Bar, an antiquated drinking den where one (or two) can cosy up for a tipple.


Off the back of a Dickens quote, the Eel-Pie Island in Twickenham is flagged as a refuge for eclectic lovers:

“Unto the Eel-Pie Island at Twickenham: there to make merry upon a cold collation, bottled beer, shrub, and shrimp, and to dance in the open air to the music of a locomotive band.” – from Nicholas Nickelby

Separated from the Twickenham embankment by a curved footbridge, the secluded, car-free island is accessible only by boat. The place has a history of passion – the authors make mention of both Henry VIII, said to fill up on eel pies whilst journeying by riverboat from Hampton Court to the homes of various mistresses, and an artist couple who battled eight months with the Richmond council, eventually winning the right to rename their home ‘Love Shack’ (after the B52s' hit).

Hackney Wick

Londoners notoriously prowl for the “next” spot, and many have identified the current heart of chic as Hackney Wick/Fish Island - a cluster of warehouses bound on two sides by Union Canal and the River Lea.

It’s an area in a constant state of flux - there’s a good chance that any pop-up market or gallery mentioned here may be there one day, gone the next.” All the more reason to hurry there with a loved one tonight, to see what you find. 

Members of the English pop group The Tremeloes kiss their brides in Trafalgar Square, 1967 (Photo: Getty Images)

Charlotte Simmonds is a writer and blogger living in London. She was formerly an editorial assistant at the New Statesman. You can follow her on Twitter @thesmallgalleon.

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No, J J Abrams – Star Wars was never “a boy’s thing”

Women love things that are “for boys” because these things are actually “for humans”.

In 1977, millions of people went to cinemas to see Star Wars: A New Hope, and afterwards, a good portion of them were suddenly rendered invisible. It didn’t matter that they rushed to line up for the sequels; it didn’t matter that they were eager to buy and play with the toys; it didn’t matter that they grew up to read the novels and explore the expanded universe and sit through the prequels and introduce their children to something they had loved as a child. They’re a group that overlaps with the invisible force that haunts comic book shops, or plays a lot of video games, or makes up nearly half the audience for superhero films, or, to one New Statesman staffer’s persistent, possibly-only-half joking incredulity, liked Doctor Who long before Russell T Davies got his hands on it. 

With less than three weeks before J J Abrams’s rebooted Star Wars hits screens, the director went on Good Morning America yesterday to talk in vague, broad strokes about his turn with the franchise. But the otherwise-unremarkable interview made headlines because of one segment, when Abrams was asked who he most excited to hear from about the film. He said:

“Star Wars was always about, you was always a boy’s thing, and a movie that dads take their sons to. And though that’s still very much the case, I was really hoping that this could be a movie that mothers can take their daughters to as well. So I’m looking forward to kids seeing this movie and to seeing themselves in it, and seeing that they’re capable of doing what they could never imagine was possible.”

That invisible group of Star Wars fans, who love that well-known “boy’s thing”? Women, who have spent the past four decades loving the franchise just as much as all those fanboys, even if no one else – the fanboys themselves in particular – seemed to take much notice. Abrams’s offhand remark coincided with recent headlines like Bloomberg’s “‘Star Wars’ Toys Aren’t Just For Boys Anymore as Rey Takes Over”, a reference to the female lead of The Force Awakens, portrayed by Daisy Ridley. Across the web, aside from stirrings by the now-mandatory Internet Outrage Machine, the overwhelming response seemed to be one of sad and somewhat resigned frustration, with women sharing memories of falling in love with the series, essentially saying, “We’ve been here this whole time.” My friend Lori Morimoto, in “An Open Letter to J J Abrams”, wrote, “I’d like to tell you the story of a girl who became a Star Wars fan. I hope you can suspend disbelief over my existence long enough to make it to the end.”

Star Wars is a universe populated by complicated gender politics, on and off screen. The three original films fail most facets of the Bechdel test (I laughed out loud here seeing the suggestion that A New Hope deserves a pass because the only two named female characters could have talked offscreen). Princess Leia’s enslavement and escape (and the bikini she wears while doing it) is a cultural touchstone that’s launched a complicated feminist dialogue over the decades. And it is perhaps because of the mostly-male cast in the films – and the long-held assumption that science fiction is a primarily masculine property – that the franchise has long been marketed exclusively to boys, despite the massive and loyal female audience.

But the modern Star Wars empire is helmed a woman, Lucasfilm president Kathleen Kennedy, and when she revealed that two-thirds the story team behind the newest film was female, she also pledged that there would be a woman in the director’s chair before too long. And since one of the leads in The Force Awakens is a woman, her character, along with a black male lead – portrayed by John Boyega – sparked anger from the reactionary white guy corner of the internet in recent months (sorry that the SJWs ruined your movies, guys!). For films that once portrayed a place so alien that only white men were allowed to speak to each other, the widening of representation in this reboot apparently looks to some like a political – or, to them, a politically correct – act.

The welcome diversity of the leading cast highlights all the good intentions in Abrams’s statement: that this new film promises more than a panoply of white guys, that girls and people of colour can see themselves reflected back in these new heroes. All the girls who thought the movies weren’t for them because they only saw men onscreen, or the endless line of male action figures on the shelf, have a point of entry now – that’s what representation means. And that’s certainly worth cheering for, even if it only took us 40 years to get there. But it’s hard for all the people who aren’t white men who’ve found other points of entry over the years, who managed to love it without seeing themselves there. I can speak from personal experience when I say that a lifetime of media about white guys hasn’t stopped me from finding characters and stories to fall in love with.

Here’s a theory: you might not have noticed that you were surrounded by female Star Wars fans all these years because you were the one who rendered them invisible. Women who like things such as Star Wars, or comics, or anything else that leads journalists to write those painful “not just for boys anymore” trend stories, have had to take it from all sides. Enthusiasm for something seen as the province of men clashes with mainstream perceptions of femininity. Even women liking this stuff in the context of traditionally feminised fan spaces, like fanfiction, find themselves fending off assumptions from men and women alike, perhaps the accusation that they are sexualising something too much, or they are placing too much weight on the emotional elements of a storyline. Basically, that they’re liking the thing the wrong way.

But women’s enthusiasm for perceived “male” spaces is always liking the thing the wrong way. The plainest illustration of this is the Fake Geek Girl, in meme and in practice: the barriers to entry are raised immeasurably high when women try to join in many male-dominated fannish conversations. The wonderful Noelle Stevenson illustrates this beautifully – and then literally, when a guy challenges her on her work. I’m sure that just by writing about Star Wars, I’m opening myself up to the angry gatekeeping-style pissing contests that men like to toss at women who claim to like the things they like. (Let’s get it all out in the open here: Star Wars isn’t my fandom. I saw the three original films on dates with my first boyfriend – our first date: Star Trek: First Contact, because we were clearly the coolest kids in town – and upon rewatches as an adult nothing grabbed me. But I am also a fandom journalist, so that’s kind of how this works.)

There’s a persistent myth – and I say persistent because I keep seeing these deluded boys get mad in new viral posts – that women who claim to like geeky things are just pretending, the somewhat confusing notion that they are doing it for attention. (And then there’s the inevitable anger that in this supposedly desperate plea for attention – why else would a woman claim to like their beloved characters?! – these women still don’t want to sleep with them.) And what never seems to occur to any of these gatekeepers is that these women were there all along, liking these things just as much – and are finally being given the cultural space to be open about their interests and passions. But that space is given haltingly; plenty of women, tired of waiting, are going out and taking it. The result is the tension (and, at times, outright hostility) that has marked certain corners of the fannish world in the past few years.

Women love things that are “for boys” because these things are actually “for humans”. There are many reasons that people love Star Wars, and most of them are universal things: the themes, the characters, the archetypal struggle of good versus evil. Most of the time we default to the white guy; he struggles with things we all struggle with, but somehow, he is deemed most relatable. Abrams, Kennedy, and everyone behind the new films should be applauded for their efforts to give non-white guys a turn at the universal story – I think these are incredibly valuable choices, and certainly will make the films vastly more accessible, particularly to children.

But we don’t just need Rey on screen and Rey dolls on the shelves for mothers and daughters – those same mothers and daughters have found plenty to love without many women to look to on their screens. We need boys to love the female heroes as much as we’ve loved the men over the years: we need universal to be truly universal. And when we express that love, the default reaction shouldn’t be a challenge: not, “You don’t like this thing as much as I do,” or, “You don’t love this the right way.” Isn’t it easier to say, “Oh, I’m so glad that you love this, too!”

Elizabeth Minkel is a staff writer for The Millions, and writes a regular column on fan culture for the New Statesman. She is on Twitter @ElizabethMinkel.