Londonist is working this morning with something of a skeleton staff after the double whammy of everyone leaving for Glastonbury and getting very very drunk last night. Now you don't get that kind of admission in The Guardian, although it would have explained about a decade of spelling mistakes. A few of us then are braving the morning and writing through our solstice hangovers to bring you the very latest giant table and chair news.
Hampstead Heath has a giant table and chair on it. That's about it really.
It's supposed to be a tribute to the loneliness of writing according to the Beeb, but we know from hardened experience that a writer's loneliness is usually overcome with a quick romp around certain internet sites rather than a long walk on the heath. Keats and Coleridge would have spent a lot more time inside working on their carpal tunnel syndrome if they had had broadband.
Riddle us this: If giant furniture is supposed to "encourage new young budding artists and writers" then what exactly is the Gherkin supposed to stimulate?