Bardo Burner

‘We need to avoid having cult figures in the vegan community and to acknowledge the work of women’

Before stepping into national leadership, London Assembly member Zack Polanski shared his commitment to sustainability in his daily life with BardoBurner. Following his landslide election as Green Party leader, we proudly revisit this 2019 interview, exploring how his vegan lifestyle reflects his enduring dedication to ethical politics and environmental principles.

How long have you been vegan?
I’ve been vegan for four years and was vegetarian for ten years before that.

What led to the change from vegetarian to vegan?
I was making a documentary for a production company – which they never completed – but whilst I was preparing questions for vegan activists, I realised I already instinctively knew the answers.

Do you see yourself ever going back to being an omnivore?
No.

Are you a ‘healthy’ vegan? Often people assume we’re all fitness-obsessed, when the reality is that we come in many flavours and for many people life is an eternal hunt for vegan cake. What makes up your diet?
Not at all. Fast-paced London lifestyle fuelled by Huel, vegan fast food and the occasional cooked vegetable.

Do you consciously think about where you get your protein, etc, from?
I used to, but as you get in a groove, I think your body lets you know when it’s time for the healthy option.

For many vegans, the initial realisation of facts that make us turn to a different lifestyle is pretty life-changing and alienating. We view things differently, from the supermarket shopping experience in a meat-eating world to the people around us. How was that change in mindset… the reality of being an outsider in many situations… for you?
That’s absolutely right. Being vegan meant I spent much more time around environmentalists and people who were fighting to save the planet. I went vegan for the animals – and then realised there are so many more other crucial reasons to do it too.

Do you mix with many other vegans – does your lifestyle mean that you come into contact with people of a similar outlook regularly?
A fair few. I’d say a large part of my friendship group is vegan. Including my partner, Richie!

Do you seek out vegan groups and forums online?
I did initially to get grounded in the community and for people to digitally hold my hand. Now I’m more than happy to be involved but schedules a little too busy to actively seek it out.

Be kind to all kind: BardoBurner first met Zack on a SURGE march back in 2018

Do you live in a meat/dairy eating household? And if so, how is that?
I do. I live in a shared building with 18 people; I reckon the veggie/vegan – omnivore split is about 50/50. It’s fine though. We have some really good discussions and slowly people are coming around!

Where do you like to eat out?
I love Black Cat Cafe, Yorica, Temple of Seitan and my favourite of all is actually a Chinese vegan restaurant in Archway (Loving Hut).

Do you feel you have more in common with vegans than the majority of other people who don’t believe plant-based is the way forward?
I think there’s a mutual understanding that you potentially both have a love of animals and a desire to save the planet. That’s a good grounding for any friendship I think.

Do you, as most of us have to, eat out with non-vegans often and how do you feel about their eating choices?
A lot. I feel their choices are their choices. I don’t believe in preaching or being angry at people. We all have to come to these decisions in our own time and I’m a great believer in being a demonstrator of your values rather than just talking about them.

Are you involved in any form of activism?
Lots. Political obviously. Also regularly go to Critical Mass, which is all about cycling. I’m involved with XR, and was arrested this year during the Spring Rebellion. I’m currently awaiting my court date.

Passionate about veganism: Zack Polanski

Even more crucially though, I’m a spokesperson for Make Votes Matter (the campaign for Proportional Representation). That might sound like a long stretch from veganism, but actually one of the biggest flaws in society right now is that our rules are made by the current unfair voting system. The Green Party would look to change that to have much healthier and well-balanced debates about everything in our democracy. Undoubtedly within that, animal rights and the environment would get a much better hearing.

How do you feel about the vegan jokes… you know, that vegans can’t go five minutes without mentioning the fact or they explode?
Next…

Do you believe that the meat and dairy industries have a future?
If they do, ultimately our planet doesn’t. We need to move away to plant based options and make it all considerably easier, cheaper and more accessible – I’m open to whether that includes meat and dairy replacements.

How do you think we best ‘convert’ omnivores to a plant-based lifestyle? And do you actively try to do this?
I wouldn’t necessarily say convert. Educate, inform and persuade. And I do it by not actively doing it – by living a busy, happy, healthy lifestyle and demonstrating that being vegan is the future.

How do you feel about the horror-show videos of the reality of meat? Do you share them? Do you feel they have a positive place in changing people’s understanding of the meat and dairy industry?
I don’t like them. I think they’ve got their place but I can’t face watching them and in fact I’ve never seen them. I think positive conversation is much more likely to create sustainable change rather than shock factors.

Are you positive about the future of veganism?
Absolutely. The one slight caveat is that I’m cautious about the vegan celebrities that are cropping up on YouTube… (usually white and male). We massively need to avoid having cult figures in the community, and also to acknowledge the work of a lot of women for the past few decades that wasn’t about getting popularity hits but about maintaining a principled and ethical argument for the environment – and for our animals.

What does being vegan mean to you?
Ultimately it can only mean love!

The Spread Eagle: a vegan pub rooted in tradition

Homerton’s finest: a plant-based sanctuary with character

Tucked away on a corner of Homerton High Street, The Spread Eagle introduced a fully vegan menu eight years, becoming London’s first plant-based pub. There’s no pretension or trend-chasing minimalism here — this is a proper British pub. It feels warm and lived-in. Sustainability runs through everything, from the seasonal menu to the fixtures, yet the atmosphere stays unmistakably traditional, with families, groups of friends, and even canine companions making themselves at home.

The menu is rooted in British pub classics but draws subtle influences from around the world, reflecting the diverse culture of East London. I went with two friends: one vegan, one decidedly not. As usual, I’d already extensively studied the menu in advance and knew exactly what I wanted.

Courgette flower: crisp batter in a fragrant sauce

I opted for the battered courgette flower, a dish I’d only eaten once before. That first time, at the original Ottolenghi restaurant on Upper Street twelve years ago, the vegetarian version was delicate and memorable. The Spread Eagle’s fully vegan take was every bit as good. Several slices of quartered courgette came fried in a pale crisp batter, but the true highlight was the flower itself, filled with a silky non-dairy ricotta that was rich and creamy. It felt indulgent yet refined, quietly asserting how unnecessary dairy can be.

Schnitzel with a twist: traditional turned vegan

For my main, there was no hesitation. My Austrian heritage demanded the aubergine schnitzel with potato salad, a dish tied so deeply to my own memories that it felt like a personal test for the kitchen. Growing up, aubergine schnitzel was my annual Christmas dinner after choosing vegetarianism at 14. It’s a schlepp to make, so it was always something special — prepared by my mum with love and Teutonic precision. And here, it was perfect; possibly even better than I remembered. A hefty eggplant wedge, soft and tender at the centre, was encased in golden, chunky breadcrumbs with a satisfying crunch. The potato salad was classic Austrian style: tangy, balanced, and unapologetically simple, complementing the schnitzel without overpowering it. It tasted like home, like tradition.

My vegan friend started with the tomato tart, a crisp base topped with soft and flavoursome juicy tomatoes, which he declared a complete success. He had originally considered the schnitzel, but after a quick chat with the pub manager, opted for the lentil pie and mash with liquor — and wasn’t disappointed. The East End classic translated beautifully into a fully plant-based dish, hearty and deeply satisfying.

Heavy on the crunch: fresh seasonal ingredients

Our omnivore friend began with the Greek salad, which she described as a pleasant and authentic recreation, but a little too heavy on the cucumber. She followed it with the signature mushroom burger — a creation that looked every bit the pub classic albeit entirely plant-based.

We shared two bottles of the house white, served in refillable bottles — a thoughtful sustainable touch. The wine itself was crisp and easy to drink, the kind that quietly enhances a meal without over-demanding attention.

I was the only one who ordered dessert and couldn’t resist the Eton mess. A simple mix of cream and strawberries — heavy on the strawberries — with meringue scattered on top. It was the perfect light finish: sweet but not cloying, fresh and satisfying.

Messy tastes so good: the classic British dessert

Beyond the food, the whole place has just the right feel. The décor is bright, modern and inviting, the staff warm and genuinely knowledgeable about the menu. Their recommendations were spot on, and you get the sense they really care about what they’re serving.

An eclectic hideaway: street art and hanging gardens

The Spread Eagle proves that you don’t have to abandon the charm of a classic British pub to embrace a plant-based future. It’s where heritage meets innovation — and everyone, vegan or not, is welcome to pull up a chair.

Whisk Takers: a quiet vegan triumph in E17

Walthamstow still has a lot going for it. Money has been poured into the area — new flats, curated green spaces, cafés with concrete countertops — all trying to turn it into somewhere people want to live, linger, and spend their weekends. But in all of this, veganism has mostly been an afterthought.

There are vegan options scattered here and there, but since the much-loved SpiceBox on Hoe Street closed, there’s felt like a real gap — something missing. Yes, there’s Chickenish in the Crate building on St James Street, but for me, the real star is neither overtly nor accidentally vegan.

Tucked away on Old Brewery Way is Beaten by a Whisker https://www.beatenbyawhisker.com/contact— a small, independent bakery that calls itself “incidentally vegan”. And that’s exactly how it feels: everything is plant-based, but it’s never the headline. It’s not a sales pitch, just a quiet confidence that great food speaks for itself.

Founded by baker Laura Almond, who started out selling cakes from an honesty box in her front garden, the café has become a real local gem. She grew from supplying cakes to neighbourhood cafés to opening her own space, just a short walk from St James Street station. The result is a cosy, rustic little place with seriously good coffee (from London roasters Curious Roo) and a loyal following.

Ever popular: cinnamon rolls and other buns

The food? Beautifully seasonal and always fresh. Arrive early and you might catch a warm tahini and chocolate bun or one of their famed oversized cinnamon rolls. Later in the day, you might find sourdough focaccia with roasted squash and miso, or one of the mushroom sausage rolls that prove that taste is not compromised when you remove animal products.

Everything is baked in small batches, so the selection depends on when you arrive — but I’ve never been disappointed. Whether I’ve gone alone or with a friend, it always feels like a treat. The queue often spills out the door, but unlike most places, it never puts me off. It’s a friendly queue, full of locals catching up and trading tips on what’s just come out of the oven.

If you’re looking for somewhere stylishly ethical without the preachiness, Beaten by a Whisker is it. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t just cater to vegans — it quietly opens minds with every bite.

From up above: watch the food being made in the bakery below

La Fauxmangerie – grate fondue that isn’t too cheesy

A glimpse behind the curtain: La Fauxmangerie

On the left hand side at the bottom of the staircase leading to the basement of Camden’s vegan pizza place Purezza, is a plush scarlet velvet curtain just begging to be peeked behind. Edge gently through, and you slip into a French style cafe with three bench booths and four small wooden tables, where the music has district Parisian vibes and the waitresses are both amiable and chic.

Purveyors of fine cheeses: all plant-based

We arrived early on a Friday evening, and had our choice of seats; we’d been allocated a table but by swapping around the beautifully handwritten reserved sign, we slid into a private booth near the curtain and settled in for several hours of hardcore cheese munching. All vegan, naturally, for it’s in making and selling fine artisan plant-based cheeses that La Fauxmangerie has earned its superb reputation.

Once a small shop near Brick Lane, their cheeses can now be found in any Waitrose branch, and they hold cheese and wine nights in Camden every Thursday, Friday and Saturday. These events get booked up early, and going there you can see why. The ambience alone is worth soaking up.

The owners have sourced an incredible list of small-batch wines that marry beautifully with a wide selection of their products, which range from traditionally fermented cheeses often with a nut base, to exquisite mould-ripened varieties. On offer are single portion samples of various cheeses and wine pairings, the ‘Showstopper’, which is a vegan Camembert, or – our choice – the garlic-laced vegan fondue complete with a freshly baked sourdough, seitan slices, and a selection of freshly grilled vegetables.

The fondue is served in a 1970s original brown set with large flowers. This stands atop an old-school oil burner which keeps everything warm, stops the liquid from turning solid, and takes me right back to the first time I was introduced to the dish as a small child in Hamburg. It feels as exotic now as it did then. By this point the place was filling up, and there was a real sense of excitement at the food on offer. There’s something about sharing plates, and particularly using those long slender forks to dip into the fondue, that encourages a sense of intimacy among dining companions. Bits of bread or grilled artichoke slip from the forks into the viscous cheesy deliciousness, encouraging a sense of playfulness as you fish around trying to recover your lost food. The fondue itself was almost perfect… rich and flavoursome, although by the end of it, the saltiness of this melted cheese and wine dish meant we’d drunk two litres of water.

Fondue forks: from the pan to your mouth

By the end of the fondue, pretty much everything was empty, except our stomachs. That said, with this particular companion there is always room for dessert. She had two scoops of gelato while I went for the American style cheesecake. I’ve had this before in the upstairs section, and it lived up to my memory. I tend to avoid this expression, but honestly it tastes just like the creamy dairy-based option on which it is moulded: baked on a pastry base and garnished with fruit puree.

Coffee and cheesecake: fuel for the journey home

I was driving, and she was cycling, so we stuck to a can of cider each, but the wine choices looked amazing. Next time.

What goes up: Gravity Theory cider was the drink of choice

123V Browns… roll on the plant-based sushi

Tucked away at the back of a fancy boutique on Brook Street, right next to Claridge’s hotel, 123V Browns is not a restaurant you could stumble across. I walked back-and-forth several times past this grand grade II listed building before plucking up the courage to knock – it’s the kind of intimidating clothes shop where the doors are personally unlocked for you to walk in – and ask if I could possibly be in the right place. ‘Ah, you’re here for the restaurant? ‘

You have to know it’s there to find it.

Behind the clothing and the sparse shoe displays: 123V Browns is a quirky cosy space

There are other meals on option, but the star of the show at this restaurant is the bottomless sushi. Although empty when we arrived at 2pm, the place quickly filled up. I was sitting close enough to the entrance to hear pretty much everyone ask the same question as they were greeted by the waitress: “Is the bottomless sushi deal on?”

That’s why I was there, with my two favourite companions, on a very cold and wet winter afternoon. In the milder months, there is a lovely garden in which you can sit, but this was a day when it felt good to be inside and snug.

The system itself was easily negotiated. If we wanted, and we did, we could start with one of everything, and then take it from there.

Bottomless sushi: as much crispy rice, Nigiri, California, Signature, and tacos as you can eat

The problem, and let me just say it straight out, was the time constraint: put simply, would we be able to eat enough in a two hour period, with service as slow as this initially appeared to be? Much of our mumbled conversation between courses revolved around this.

Crispy rice sushi: a crunchy little mouthful

First came the crispy rice sushi. I’ve never had this before, and they were among my favourites. Small ovals of crisply fried rice topped with, for example, tofu crab, miso aubergine, and black mushroom. The green dynamite, topped with a jalapeño was the biggest hit with us.

Nigiri: including the incredibly popular green velvet

And then we waited. And waited. And mumbled under our breaths about when our two hours might have been timed from, and whether they were growing the rice back in the kitchen before serving it up. The second dish took some time, it would be fair to say, and came into stages, but every single piece brought with it its own punch. The textures and flavours were amazing; from fresh and fragrant to umami rich, the food was excellent and frequently surprising. Sushi has never been at the top of my list when it comes to food, but this was an entirely taste-changing experience.

Vivid colours: pressed tapioca used to make ‘salmon’ and ‘tuna’

Nigiri: including a very ‘meaty’ 3-D plant flank and kelp cavier

And then the courses just kept coming. Each morsel saw us eagerly discussing what we might order when the entire menu had been tried.

The sushi tacos: ingenious little snacklets wrapped in seaweed

We finished a first dose of everything with half an hour to spare, and then, inevitably, over ordered. I’ll tell you now what our favourites were. We re-ordered the green dynamite, the green velvet, the Dragon roll, and the sushi tacos. Equally inevitably, we were left with about 10 pieces of sushi on the plate. It seemed logical to us that a place with the environmental ethics of any Alexis Gauthier restaurant would let us sneak a couple of bits of sushi out, rather than chuck them in the bin. So after a bit more mumbling, we sheepishly asked if we could have a little box to take away.

Absolutely not.

Out of sheer greed (and a touch of spite), we ate as much of what remained as we could fit in our already bloated stomachs, and pretty much waddled out. After we got over the initial indignation, it seemed pretty logical that bottomless sushi is a thing that you eat in rather than takeout. But hey, it was worth a try.

Bournemouth’s Dane and Port, where the menu changes daily, but the standards stay the same

Dane and Port: a wooden and woven rustic vibe

It’s a rainy day in Bournemouth in January. I’m not a fan of umbrellas, and the hood on my jacket serves more against wind than as a protection from water. As is frequently the case, I’ve got my iPhone clutched in my hand, and I’m following the HappyCow app to an interesting sounding vegan deli style restaurant with no menu to speak of. It’s 10:46am, I haven’t had breakfast yet, and this place is slightly off my beaten track, necessitating a bus journey, or the kind of walk I’m not prepared to do in the rain. I don’t have much of a clue what to expect, but I really need it to be good.

An abundance of plants: not a human in sight

When I walk into Dane and Port it’s cosy and dry, which is the first plus box ticked. It’s also empty of both staff and customers, and I am met by a low wall of Middle Eastern music with the mild aroma of exotic spices to match. I can’t quite place either precisely, but it instantly makes me feel at home. There are plants everywhere. Standing. Hanging. And the decor is wooden, woven, and rustic. With no humans in sight, I am unsure at first as to whether if it’s even open and I drift over to the back of the restaurant, hoping to find someone. Yes, there is a menu of sorts up on the wall, but revealing no specifics; there are simply vague references to meals like a brunch bowl or a sandwich plate.

I call out and a waitress appears from behind a slight curtain at the back. She pops downstairs to fetch the owner who she assures me will be able to explain the system. This she does, and it basically amounts to there is a brunch bowl, and you say which of the feasible components appeal to you.

A heavy teapot: from a selection of available teas

I choose an English breakfast tea to drink, which arrives in a heavy metal pot with enough contents for me to fill my beaker three times. My brunch plate consists of a dense chickpea flour tortilla, flavoured with turmeric, dill, and spinach, the beetroot humous, and a pickled red cabbage and broccoli salad. All of these smell and taste delicious, and, like everything served here, the foods are made from scratch on a daily basis.

The brunch bowl: a plate of freshly prepared wholefood

Owner, Isabel, comes over to check that I am okay and that the food is to my taste. It most definitely is. She is Portuguese, and her co-owner husband is from Denmark, which, she tells me, explains the shop’s name. She adds that they opened four years ago, just after the first lockdown, originally planning to run a vegan deli, and slowly expanding into a restaurant. Their focus is on keeping food as unprocessed, ethically produced, flavoursome, and as organic as possible, but without any preaching. All of this appeals to me massively.

With many businesses in the café and restaurant trade closing down in the current economic climate, these are tough times; Dane and Port, which has never really advertised itself at all, has begun exploring ways to future proof itself as a business, Isabel explains. This might mean going back to its roots as a deli, and becoming more takeaway orientated, but whatever the case its ethics will remain the same.

And for those who like more than a doggy bag to take home, a wander downstairs reveals a range of organic veg on offer to buy.

Organic veg: don’t leaf without a trip down to the basement

For now, if you can do without the thrill of choosing your meal online before you get to a place, it’s well worth the trip. Fully licensed, and serving organic cocktails and wines, they also serve cold pressed juices and artisan coffee, as well as desserts.

So long, and thanks for all the to-fish!

Vegan cocktails: Unity Diner offers both alcoholic and clean tipples

Update: having negotiated a deal with the landlords, Unity Diner has now reopened. 

News of a vegan restaurant taking the difficult decision to close its doors for the final time is always a body blow, with the most recently affected being Stem and Glory in Cambridge. But Unity Diner… truly, who saw that coming?

Unity Diner began in September 2018, and was formed by a group of activists, including vegan educator Earthling Ed, on a mission to make a positive impact on both the animals and on planet Earth. From day one, Unity Diner has been run as a not-for-profit restaurant, with all money going to Surge Sanctuary.

Help keep Surge sanctuary open: a haven for rescued farm animals

In January 2025 however, they emailed everyone on their mailing list to say: “Sadly, we’ve not been spared from the economic situation affecting the hospitality sector here in the UK, and with soaring costs since Covid and our landlords now wanting a rent increase this year, the time has come for us to call it a day.

“Restaurant closures are running at their highest level in more than a decade. A total of 1,409 shut their doors in the year ending September 2024, up from 1,180 in the 12 months before. The situation for hospitality in the UK at the moment is beyond anything we could have expected when we opened. We’re proud to have battled through it for so long.

“However, although we share this news with heavy hearts, we are immensely proud of everything we’ve achieved over the last six years. We’ve served vegan meals to thousands of non-vegans and we’ve supported the sanctuary and the animals who live there.”

Simple scran: Bacon burger and triple-cooked fries with rosemary

Of course we booked one final visit straight away, and if you’re reading this before February 1st 2025, you still have time to do so yourself. As a place to eat, it has always been appealing to vegans and omnivores alike. With a friendly staff and a welcoming vibe, as well as their cooked from scratch soul food (much of which has ‘fishy’ names, like lobster mac and cheese, crispy prawn tempura, or the restaurant’s popular signature dish, tofish and chips) Unity Diner is a great place to hang out, and meet up with friends or family.

Crème Brûlée: dried rose petals make a fragrant garnish

Honestly, on previous visits we have rarely had room for dessert, but on this final occasion we made an exception. The crème brûlée is absolutely delightful; fragrant with vanilla, rich and creamy with a crunchy caramelised topping, it’s the ideal end to a meal. For one of our party who was absolutely stuffed to capacity after the umami-rich seared oyster mushrooms with kale crisps, a frothy matcha latte served the same function: a perfect finish to a poignant experience.

Matcha latte: a fitting end to a delicious meal when you simply can’t eat another crumb

It’s not a total end to the project though. Sister restaurant No Catch down on Brighton seafront offers a great excuse for a day at the seaside.

Carb your enthusiasm at London’s Pastan Barbican

Crispy deliciousness: Pastan’s loaded gnocchi

Pasta seems like an obvious and easy option when it comes to serving vegan food, but so often it’s ignored or limited to predictably dull tomato sauces.

Not so at Pastan Barbican where the choices include Florentine creme spinach torteloni (Firenze), mini ravioli with mushroom with truffle oil and crumbled chestnuts (Countryside), and pasta umami stroganoff. With branches in Barcelona and Malaga, there are also a couple of clearly Spanish influenced dishes – Catalonia, Formentera and an orzo-based Paella.

Inside the restaurant is simply decorated and generally pretty full, with a fairly quick and efficient turnover of customers, while managing to feel like there is no rush.

My own starter recommendation would be the loaded gnocchi, which comes with a range of sauces to tempt most tastes. We opted for the cheese, but there are also tomato, and blue cheese options. Pastan Barbican is conveniently and centrally located and they offer predictably good food so I’ve eaten there several times; my meal has always included this dish. The gnocchi are deep fried and slightly chewy, and it’s a chunky enough portion to make you wonder whether there’ll be space for the main course. Of course there always is.

On my most recent visit this was Green Velvet. A healthy sized ten pieces of pea and shallot ravioli dressed with salsa verde and asparagus. As you can imagine, this tastes very green, but with a creamy smoothness to the sauce.

My companion chose the Amalfi Orzotto.
The Italian town of Amalfi, as reconstructed on a plate by Pastan, includes orzo pasta cooked risotto style, lemon, peas, fresh mint and ginger. This dish is topped with crispy kale, asparagus and crystallised ginger bites. She declared it heavy on the lemon, which for her was delightful, and only remembered the ginger as a slight lingering heat in the mouth when reminded of its existence. For me the fact that it wasn’t overpowering sounded like a plus.

Past visits have also included the Comfort You mac ‘n’ cheese, which, with its crispy onions and toasted breadcrumbs, is definitely worth ordering.

There were a few of us eating together, and so although normally too full for dessert it was worth ordering a small portion of the Biscoff doughnuts. These are served hot, crispy and rolled in icing with a Biscoff centre. Honestly, if you can save the space, it’s worth it.

Smile, breathe and go slowly

Everywhere

By Martin Yelverton

That thing you were about to do…

No, I don’t remember either;

And if I do, how about we leave it be?

It will wait, or it won’t; either way without substance beyond these clutchings.

So let’s sit here a while and watch.

Waiting for nothing, watching, just watching.

There will be the sight of trees and grass waving, There will be the sound of leaves swooning love supreme, There will be the thoughts that roll in and wash it all away.

You will feel adrift, just like me, But here we are; here we truly are.

Be like a tree, and let the dead leaves drop: whatever the challenge, Martin just kept moving forward

Martin: among his beloved trees in Epping Forest

Martin Erick Yelverton, co-editor of BardoBurner and my husband and partner for over three decades, died aged 58 in August of this year. It was sudden and unexpected and it happened at what was, without doubt, the happiest time of his life.

Martin and I first crossed paths late in 1987. Having experienced a troubled childhood, which saw him moving from his birthplace in Zambia to Zimbabwe before settling, aged 10, in Durban, Martin was called up to the South African Army as soon as he finished journalism college there. This was during the time of apartheid, a system to which he was vehemently opposed, and so, aged 20, he landed in London where his training as a sub-editor saw him getting shifts on many national newspapers.

As a draft dodger, Martin knew he couldn’t go “home” without facing a prison sentence until the state-led segregation and discrimination had ended, and so he felt trapped in a cold bleak country where the nights were long and dark.

My dad had died two and a half months before Martin and I first chatted in a bar near the Birmingham newspaper for which we both worked. So we were both in need of a good friend, and we remained best mates for the next 36 years.

Martin was authentic, unconventional, a poet, had a dark sense of humour, and voraciously lapped up my knowledge of 1960s music and the then current 80s indie scene; I was a chronically shy trainee reporter with a penchant for black clothes and bunion-inducing pointy shoes. We shared an innate passion for drinking and together we drowned our respective sorrows and leapt into an intense love affair. Two months after meeting, we booked our first wedding date, before sobering up a few weeks later and deciding to maybe wait a while.

Early days: Martin and Karen in Newcastle

A while became 18 months, and we eventually married in Gateshead registry office, by which point Martin was a sub on the Newcastle Evening Chronicle. Shortly afterwards Nelson Mandela was freed from Victor Verster Prison in Cape Town. As well as the massive step towards ending apartheid, Martin saw a light at the end of his personal tunnel. In 1992, he was able to return, and we settled in Johannesburg, where he spent two years working on the Sunday Times.

For as long as I knew him, Martin was excited by news. Over his 40 years in the business, he often kicked and railed quite vocally against the concept of being a work slave, and went on to try and escape from journalism many times. But he kept returning and, professional that he was, was always welcomed back, open-armed.

Johannesburg, pre the first democratic elections, in the early 1990s was abuzz with anticipation. We lived in Yeoville, a central neighbourhood in what is now the province of Gauteng, and Martin worked right in the heart of the city. We spent many happy hours there, wasted and partying on Rockey Street, oblivious to the chaos surrounding us and wrapped up in the vibrancy and fun of it all. Guns were a common sight, tucked under the belt or in the back pocket, or you’d catch a shiny glimpse of some guy showing his mate the latest flick knife he had picked up. But somehow these never really struck us as the portents of violence they clearly were. Until in March 1994 our son, Ben, was born, and our perception altered.

Parenthood: everything changed once Ben appeared

Although I had been the homesick one up to this point, Martin’s world view changed overnight and he wanted to bring his child back to the safety of England. With the first democratic elections due in April, Johannesburg was bristling with the threat of aggression. On occasion this would bubble up and we’d hear gunshots in the distance.

For Martin, England was absolutely to be the place his son would call home and by June of that year we were kipping on a mate’s floor, complete with a three month old, in London. And – having lived in Walthamstow, and latterly Buckhurst Hill – that’s where we spent the next thirty years. Living near Epping Forest gave Martin the chance to spend a lot of his time in nature; he very much felt at peace among the trees.

Martin and Ben: staking their claim on their spiritual home

Martin was a guy who just kept on moving forward. Sober since January 2013, that sobriety was precious to him, and he did everything in his power to maintain it.

Since his early days doing kung fu, and then acupuncture, Martin had been drifting towards meditation and yoga, and in 2017, he qualified as a yoga teacher. He’s easy to find out there in the ether, on YouTube and Insight Timer. Martin was an excellent teacher – unjudgemental, kind and humble – who never stopped being a student himself. Lifelong learning was important to him and he had no intention of ever becoming a polished finished product. Later he added Pilates teaching to his repertoire, and more recently Martin had qualified as a mindfulness meditation teacher. He had a soothing voice, and a gentle way about him, and he learnt how to use these things to help other people. Martin led regular staff and children’s lessons at a local school, which he absolutely loved.

Christmas 2023: a birthday trip to Brighton

Since his death, many kind words have poured in from colleagues, students, classmates and friends. These have been of great comfort to Ben and me, though Martin himself would be completely baffled and amused to hear the high esteem in which he was held. To quote one colleague, ‘Martin would like to call himself a humble “foot soldier”, but he was very much more than that in the eyes of those fortunate enough to work with him. Sharp-eyed, creative and no stranger to a good laugh.’

His end came with little warning and with speed, but Martin held a true appreciation of the fleetingness of life and the fact that none of us is here for very long. He was brave and he was pragmatic, and he knew that, like all the greatest celebrations, it’s best to leave while you’re still enjoying yourself.