5 ways that Time Out can save itself from oblivion

The Time Out logo is almost as an iconic symbol of London as the Underground’s roundel yet I fear for the magazine’s health. It’s been years since I bought one, and much longer than that since I bought one for a reason other than to see why I am not buying it any longer.

Deptford Market on a Saturday morning is a thriving bastion of old-timey market chaos. The air is full of shouting, arguing, laughing and confusion as people pick through piles of strange china ornaments, odd shoes and every conceivable electrical appliance that has been surpassed by modern invention since electricity began. It is untainted by trendy craft stalls and free from overpriced tourist tat, instead it is full of pure and glorious junk. Junk that it is exciting and rewarding to search through; books, odd paintings, records, furniture, TVs, clothes, old newspapers, hats and the slightly depressing china set your mum had when you were five. Approaching market trader Vic, I admit to being a bit nervous, but soon found a softness behind her hardy exterior.

13 May 2011