Twice, on the same date 281 years apart, the River Thames froze solid – first in 1434, when London’s lifeline turned to stone, and again in 1715, when it became a carnival ground. From famine fears to frost fairs, this is the story of a city brought to a standstill by winter, and how Londoners turned disaster into revelry.

A high-speed voyage through the life and legend of the Cutty Sark – the world’s last surviving tea clipper and one of London’s brightest maritime icons. From her birth in 1869 on the Clyde to her record-breaking races home from China, we follow her glory days, decline, and resurrection in Greenwich. Along the way, we meet the Scots poet who named her, the witch who inspired her figurehead, and the sailors who made her the fastest thing under canvas. A story of craftsmanship, competition, and sheer beauty – the ship that refused to fade into history.

A turn through London as it was on 22 November 1963. Evening crowds spilling out of offices, Christmas lights warming up the West End, the city in its ordinary hum. Then the flash: the news from Dallas, arriving like a cold wind through pubs, Tube stations and shopfront radios. A portrait of London on the day it paused, listened and felt the shock of a distant tragedy ripple through its own streets.

Advancer for the distinguished diplomat Lisa Honan's Upcoming Empire in a Cup – the History of Tea Walk. A lively, anecdote-soaked ramble through the surprising story of how a humble leaf conquered Britain. From locked tea caddies and clipper ships to wartime tea stockpiles and family feuds over the proper order of milk, this is the tale of a drink that shaped a nation. A warm, cinematic wander steeped in history, charm, and the sort of fun only tea can brew.

On the evening of 20 November 1944, after five long years of wartime blackout, London turned on a few of its street lights again. Londoners stepped out to see it for themselves, faces tilted up to lamplight they had almost forgotten. It was only a handful of streets, a tentative first step in a city still at war. But the glow above the pavements felt like a promise that the worst might finally be behind them.

"I’m looking out the window and what do you know, it’s snowing. Yes, snowing. In November! Ok, it's just a few flurries, but the white stuff it is..."

A brisk, atmospheric wander through the day the Duke of Wellington’s funeral stopped London in its tracks. The piece sweeps the listener into the crush of half a million Londoners lining the streets, the clatter of the colossal funeral carriage, and the peculiar mix of awe and disorder that only a Victorian spectacle could summon. It’s a story of a nation saying goodbye to its greatest hero, but also a peek at the London of 1852: smoky, chaotic, sentimental, and gloriously itself.

A lively, anecdotal wander through the London Borough of Islington – from its Saxon beginnings as Giseldone, “the hill of Gisla,” to its current status as London’s most eclectic, outspoken patch of ground. Once rural pastureland where Londoners came for milk and fresh air, Islington grew into a hotbed of politics, art, and attitude. The piece takes readers down Upper Street and along the Regent’s Canal, past Bunhill Fields and the Emirates Stadium, pausing to salute the borough’s famous sons and daughters – from John Wilkes to Johnny Rotten. It’s part history, part love letter, full of wit, colour, and contradiction, capturing a place that has always refused to sit quietly while London goes about its business.

A lively, irreverent romp through the history of the codpiece – that flamboyant flap of cloth that began as a modesty patch and ended up as the Renaissance’s most outrageous brag. From its humble medieval origins to its glorious, padded, jewel-encrusted heyday under Henry VIII, the piece traces how the codpiece became both fashion and farce, weapon and wink. Stuffed with anecdotes, double entendres, and a dash of scandal, it explores how this unlikely garment strutted its way through art, politics, and amour before quietly retreating from the stage. A story of swagger, status, and sheer nerve – proof that in Tudor England, size really did matter.

Just when you thought the Fortnum’s Christmas tale was complete, the shop quietly unveiled its most spectacular secret in centuries. Hidden for two years behind a cheerful Zebedee Helm collage, a brand-new Double Helix Staircase has now risen at the heart of 181 Piccadilly. Inspired by Leonardo da Vinci and hand-built by master craftspeople in Sussex, it is part architectural marvel, part swirling artwork, and entirely Fortnum’s. This unexpected addendum returns us to Piccadilly for a second helping, celebrating a staircase that is already becoming a landmark in its own right.

This London Calling podcast opens with Fortnum & Mason glowing across Piccadilly like London’s Christmas signal flare. It introduces the store as the elegant grand duchess of Piccadilly, tracing its history from 1707 when William Fortnum and Hugh Mason turned candle stubs and ingenuity into a legendary shop. It goes on to sketch Fortnum’s reputation for refinement and playful luxury, from its royal associations to its famous hampers and teas. The Scotch egg origin story makes an appearance, along with a quick portrait of what makes the perfect one. The heart of the podcast is the store at Christmas, especially this year’s spectacular displays. The windows are described as miniature theatrical worlds with whirling teacups, musical tins and a giant hamper that seems to open itself. The façade becomes a glowing advent calendar, and inside you step into a swirl of scent, sparkle and festive indulgence. For good measure the listener gets a suggested two-hour Fortnum’s experience. First, slow, ceremonial browsing through the ground floor food hall and Christmas room. Then ascending for refined calm in the Diamond Jubilee Tea Salon for tea, cakes and a view over Piccadilly. Finally, a gentle wander back through the upper floors and out into the winter street. Podcast ends by declaring Fortnum & Mason the perfect opening chapter for a series on London’s great Christmas shops.

Clapham begins as a riverside outpost on the Archbishop’s side of the Thames, a little upstream from the City’s bustle. Its story kicks off with the memorable wedding feast of Osgod Clapa’s daughter, a moment of Anglo-Saxon high life set against reed thatch, woodsmoke and river mud. From there, the place grows by accretion and accident: manor lands, market gardens, pious foundations, and in time a Georgian dreamworld of airy squares where the great and the good came to polish their consciences. The Clapham Sect take the stage, plotting abolition and reform over prayer meetings and polite tea. Then comes the nineteenth century, the railways, the villas, the commuters, the whole swirling transformation of London pushing south. By the time we reach the present day, Clapham is a patchwork of leafy commons, handsome terraces, lively high streets and echoes of the visionaries who once made it a moral powerhouse.

We begin on High Street Kensington, where two grand department stores – Barkers and Derry & Toms – stand as gleaming monuments to the Art Deco age. From there, it’s off on a journey through one of the most elegant design revolutions of the twentieth century. Art Deco: what it is, where it came from, what to look for. The clean lines, the geometry, the glamour – a “return to order” after the chaos of the Great War. Paris leads the dance, London joins in, and the world never looks quite the same again. There’s a stop in Paris for a feast of Deco at the Louvre – and a little feast of another kind at Le Hangar, my favourite Paris restaurant – before we return home with news of new London Walks, new guides, and Christmas just beginning to sparkle

There's a lot to be said for a journey into the real Dickens’ London – not the sanitised, stage-managed version you find in theme parks or TV reconstructions, but the city itself. The stones, the mist, the narrow courts where the man himself walked. It’s about how much of Dickens’ world is still here, hidden in plain sight – if you know where to look. The alleys that inspired him, the workhouses that haunted him, the law courts that fed his satire. We separate myth from memory and see how London shaped Dickens, and how Dickens, in turn, helped shape London’s image of itself.

It’s London, 1697 – the city bawling, bustling, brawling its way into the 18th century – and out of Smithfield mud and mischief comes William Hogarth, the man who drew London naked. This episode of London Calling follows the boy from Bartholomew Close who grew up to be the city’s mirror, moralist, and mischief-maker. From A Harlot’s Progress to Gin Lane, Hogarth painted a London of drunks, dreamers, rakes, and rogues – and in doing so, invented the modern comic strip, fought for artists’ rights, and showed us ourselves, warts and all. It’s the story of London’s first true visual journalist: sharp-eyed, streetwise, full of bite and wit. The man who proved a picture really can be worth a thousand sins.

Ann’s at it again – prowling through London’s backstreets, history purring at her heels. Her walk, A Cat Tails – A Feline Take on London History, is just what the city ordered: playful, surprising, and full of sharp little claws of insight. Expect stories of moggies and monarchs, ship’s cats and literary felines, from alleyways to palaces. She’ll be teasing out London’s long, tangled relationship with the creatures who’ve ruled our hearths – and sometimes our hearts – for centuries. This is the advancer: a sneak peek before the cat’s out of the bag.

It’s November 8th, 1674. The rain drifts softly over London as the light fades early and a blind old poet slips away in Bunhill Fields. This London Calling podcast follows John Milton – born in Bread Street, schooled under St Paul’s, hunted near St Bartholomew-the-Great, dictating Paradise Lost in Petty France – through the London of his life and death. We meet “the Lady of Christ’s,” the young scholar who became the thunderous voice of English verse; the blind visionary who saw eternity more clearly than most. From the alleys of the City to the stained-glass glow of the Milton Window in St Margaret’s, Westminster, it’s a portrait of the Londoner who gave the world its most magnificent lines.

On Helen Suzman’s birthday, David takes us from apartheid-era South Africa to Hampstead’s Vale of Health – to the very house where Suzman’s actress niece Janet Suzman lived with director Trevor Nunn. It’s a story of courage, art, and a family of difference-makers who refused to take the easy script.

Meet the saint who looked after London’s grafters – from blacksmiths to Shakespeare’s mates.

From Saxon arches to Wren’s soaring spire, from the rebel hanged at its doors to the golden dragon that’s ruled the skyline for three centuries, St Mary-le-Bow has witnessed a thousand years of London life. Its bells gave birth to the Cockneys, its court judged the clergy, and its crypt hides a mystery stretching all the way to Wall Street. Fire, faith, riots and rebirth – this is the story of the church that quite literally defines London.