She's plugging 107 Days.

TfL launched a new campaign this week encouraging passengers to wear headphones on public transport when watching/listening to content or making calls. "Be considerate towards others" is the message, given that the majority of people find loud music and two-sided calls a right nuisance. But how will a few posters on trains actually help? I saw this poster on the Metropolitan line, but the perpetrators likely never will. 10 ways the new 'headphones on' campaign might work 1) When you hear a noisy device, point at the poster and the owner will surely react instantly. 2) When you hear a noisy device, walk over to the poster, remove it from the frame and wave it in the face of the miscreant. 3) The new campaign will coalesce public attitudes, emboldening the collective mindset and making loud noise socially unacceptable. 4) The oblivious millennial who would have sat opposite you next week playing random TikTok reels instead sees the poster, changes their behaviour and heads to the local public library for a good book instead. 5) If everyone on London's transport wears headphones all the time, nobody will hear any noisy phones anyway. 6) The 5 people who win noise-cancelling headphones in TfL's new Instagram giveaway turn out to be London's five most prolific noisemakers and the issue fades away almost overnight. 7) There are no on-board announcements associated with this campaign, which has singlehandedly made carriages less noisy. 8) TfL could buy up all the advertising space on TikTok with a campaign commercial that has no soundtrack. 9) The travelling public, galvanised by this campaign, will lynch anyone they catch playing tinny music out loud. 10) Everyone immediately stops using speakerphone to make sure TfL never run a campaign as trite as this ever again. 10 better ways to stop noise on public transport 1) Withdraw the Zip cards of any youngster who insists on moshing to MC Topkiller at full volume. 2) Refund the fare of anyone who snitches on a phone-blarer. 3) Rename the Elizabeth line the Headphones On line. 4) When Londoners get their 60+ Oyster card, include a pair of headphones in the envelope because it's the oldies who are the most transgressive. 5) All train journeys must be conducted in total silence. Bliss. 6) Introduce quiet carriages on the tube, because that works so well on trains right? 7) Force headphone dodgers to do community service (ideally removing graffiti from Central line trains). 8) Fine anyone whose digital racket exceeds 70 decibels. £1000 a time should do it. This includes TfL's "see it say it sorted" announcements, which may swiftly bankrupt them. 9) Force smartphone manufacturers to reintroduce a headphone socket. 10) Switch off all the 4G and 5G connections nobody wanted underground anyway.

Fear and Loathing in Notting Hill.

My grandparents got married in August 1925. My grandparents grew up in the Lea Valley four miles apart. She was a farm girl from Essex and he was a town boy from Hertfordshire, both very much from different sides of the tracks. But their jobs brought them together, she a barmaid at the village pub and he the postman whose rounds took him across the river. He caught her eye, she leaned out the window for a daily chat and before long a wedding was pencilled in. My grandparents married at the local parish church. Hers not his, as tradition dictates, so the medieval church on the far side of the village rather than the medieval church four doors up the road. The local newspaper reported that my grandmother was the first bride to walk through the new lych-gate at the end of the churchyard path. I shall be referencing the local newspaper article several times in what follows. My grandmother wore ivory crepe-de-chine with veil and orange blossom. My niece also wore ivory, a flowy veiled thing with a train and less in the way of floral decoration, such are the limits of my descriptive abilities when it comes to wedding dresses. Her bouquet featured roses and a bold spray of white flowers, whereas my grandmother's comprised pink and white carnations, possibly locally grown. There was also a contrast in the choice of bridesmaids, the 1920s quartet being young nieces in white frocks and the 2020s trio being schoolmates in green dresses. Everyone looked lovely, no doubt on both occasions. My grandparents' reception was held at a farm up the lane because you can always hire your sister's gaff on the cheap. I suspect the groom's family found it a bit down at heel, indeed the bride's relatives are the poorest folk I ever remember visiting, but I've checked the actual venue and it's a listed 15th century timber-framed house that's now worth over a million. My niece also held her reception in a barn, this time merely 18th century and never used for chickens, additionally with a convenient space for canapes and crazy golf on the lawn outside. When did speeches get so long? My grandparents probably got away with a few words of thanks but these days everyone's expected to produce a carefully-scripted star performance before the food can continue. As father of the bride my brother knocked his four-pager out of the park with all the right nods and nostalgic warmth, while the groom played safer than I'd have guessed the day we first met. For a proper 21st century touch we enjoyed a speech from the maid of honour as well as the best man, the former eliciting all the paper hankies and the latter digging amusing dirt as only brothers can. The 1925 newspaper article states that my grandparents spent their honeymoon in Folkestone, which to be fair is better than my parents managed four decades later. By contrast the latest happy couple are currently sunning themselves in Portugal, and by all accounts utterly delighted to finally be husband and wife. My grandparents would have laughed at the idea of an eight year courtship and been shocked that the couple moved in together five years before tying the knot. But they'd have recognised the emotional connection the two of them share, indeed it's always apparent, and no doubt been proud that three generations later the family line continues to thrive. The two weddings may have been vastly contrasting occasions but what binds them both together, a century and a day apart, is a great occasion in a barn, a very happy couple and true love.

Picasso, Marie Antoinette and a double helping of space.