Heinz Leopold Klapp was born in 1919 in Vienna. He was born Jewish but was not of any particular faith group. In fact, he was not a big fan of religion, due to the horrendous impact it had on his life. He grew up in Vienna an only child, very close to his mother, less so to his often-absent father. As war approached, the rumours of the Nazis plans began to circulate and his London based Uncle suggested he and his mother Anna, should come to England. The gravity of the situation was not clear at that stage, Anna chose to stay.

My father, as an intrepid 19-year-old, started selling black market cigarettes from Zagreb to raise funds for his journey. He then travelled up through Italy before claiming refugee status at the British Embassy in Switzerland. He was taken to the Orkney Islands to join the British army where he was a radiologist and peeled potatoes! For his new papers he requested to keep the same initials…

…so Heinz Leopold Klapp became Henry Lancelot Keith.

His mother Anna was deported on transport 15 from Vienna to Riga on 26/01/1942 where she was ‘murdered’ in the Shoah. His father Gustave, who had been trading paper with China, was murdered in Shanghai on 04/11/1942. The details of which are not clear. Of his whole family only two cousins survived the holocaust.

In post-war London he started with nothing. He put on parties and events before moving to fashion, retail and restaurant, notably a fashion mini-store on the Kings Road, a small hotel in Hampstead and two restaurants in the West End. It was whilst working on these businesses that he saw the price of real-estate soar and turned his hand to property. What he achieved under such adverse conditions has always given me a massive sense of pride.

My father died in 1988 at the age of 69 of a stroke having had an incredibly full and happy life, despite the unfathomably hard early years and having to live with extreme grief. He made a big contribution to 60’s and 70’s London. Not least being playing a part responsible for the arrival of the two-piece bikini to the UK.

Heinz Leopold Klapp aka Henry Lancelot Keith 01.09.1919-27.12.1988.

He was able to do this thanks to the UK’s open welcoming immigration policy.

This project celebrating migration and depicting first generation immigrants is dedicated to him.

In January 2023 a loose photographic project concept took me and my camera to Shepherds Bush Market. I took this shot of Osman in his arch. After exchanging a few words with him I realised that although I liked the picture the story behind it was much more powerful. So, the idea of ‘Open Britain’ was sewn.

Osman was born in Osman Village, just outside Cairo. Yes, Osman Village. He is the first born of five. His father was a fruit and vegetable farmer whilst his mother looked after the family. He had a very happy childhood and used his fruit farming knowledge to build a successful import and export business in Cairo with over two hundred and fifty employees.

In 2013 a British Company put in a huge order of 16 shipping containers of fresh grapes worth $450,000. The terms of business were standard: 50% up front and 50% on delivery, but the UK company never paid the second 50%. Osman continued to work trying to regain the losses and not lay off his staff, but this meant borrowing both stock and money. In 2014 Osman sold his car for $5000 and came to the UK to start legal proceedings. Costs very soon swallowed that up. Hostel room turned to hostel dormitory and before he knew it Osman found himself homeless and sleeping on the streets.

Osman was picked up by Streetlink who sent him to the homeless charities The Passage, St Mungos and No Second Night Out. All of which he is hugely grateful to.

Back in Egypt the money lenders started to make threats to Osman’s family. Things started take effect on Osman’s mental health. For Osman, suicide seemed the only solution, not least because it would get the money lenders away from his family. Fortunately, Osman contacted the Westminsiter NHS Mental Health Team.

Finding his feet on the streets of London once again, Osman noticed the juice offering in London was poor. With not even a pound in his pocket he went to the charity Tern who gave him a loan of £5300 to start a juice stall in Shepherds Bush Market. After a lot of hard work Osman was able to upgrade the stall to a shop in one of the arches. Five years on Osman now not only sells his delicious juice from the market, but has a shop and a restaurant on the Goldhawk Road, a shop on the Portobello Road and has another opening soon in Victoria.

Whilst the Osman Empire grows, the company that owed him money went bankrupt. That money is gone. Osman is working on solving the situation in Egypt but in the meantime still gives 5% of all his profit to No Second Night Out.

Osman was given 'Human Rights' status. He has to renew this every two and half years and after ten years he will be given British citizenship. He loves it here. His favourite things are the British Bobby, the Double Decker Bus and, of course, his growing business but his heart is still with his family back in Egypt.

Til Man Rai was born in 1947 in the extremely remote village Deusa in Solukhumbu region, Mount Everest, Nepal. He was only 14 when scouts came to his village and brought him to the nearest city to join the Gurkha Boys Company. It took him one week to walk there. There, he was trained until aged 18. He then became a Radio Relay Operator for the Queen’s Gurkha Signals as soldier no. 2115429. He formally entered one of the world’s most elite fighting forces.

The Gurkhas are a unique organisation of soldiers from Nepal that have been fighting for Britain for over 200 years and still serve today. After the Anglo-Nepalese War of 1814-1816, Britain decided to recruit Nepali soldiers rather than fight them. These soldiers went on to fight major battles for the British and win 13 Victoria Crosses. In the World Wars, over 50,000 Gurkhas were killed, wounded or missing and nearly 5000 gallantry medals awarded.

Til Man served in what was then known as Malaya to support British troops in the jungle warfare of the 1962-1966 Borneo Confrontation. He was posted across army bases from Hong Kong to Singapore and Borneo. Til Man was made redundant before the 15-year requisite to get a pension.

Til Man returned to farming, basket weaving and carving to support his family in Deusa. But this became harder and harder. Selling his land to pay his way to the UK, he arrived in London in 2013 with the hope of finding means to support his wife and five children left behind in Nepal. He was 66 years old.

In the UK, Til Man didn’t know anyone except a fellow villager from Nepal who picked him up at the airport. They decided to take him into their home as he had nowhere to stay (See Pic). The little he is able to save from his benefits, he sends back home. He is now 76 and this is his only way to support for his family.

There are many isolated, impoverished elderly Gurkha veterans like him in the UK and Nepal. Many were forcibly made redundant before they could qualify for pensions. Those eligible for pensions only get a fraction of their British and Commonwealth counterparts. Historically their pension pay differences have been nearly 1000%.

Til Man Rai is hopeful despite missing his wife, kids and grandkids. He and his fellow Gurkhas continue to fight for their rights.

Florent Charly Romain Bidois was born in 1986 “just like Lady Gaga.” His parents were both cleaners for a City Council near Rennes and still live where they grew up. “I am different. I am a Breton through and through, I’m a sailor, I'm a traveller, I'm an adventurer. I am Indiana Jones. Rennes was too small and France too judgemental.”

Florent initially came to London in 2011 for a pattern cutting internship and immediately felt a sense of belonging. He also came because of his love of the English language, but quickly realised London gave him the space to develop and express himself.

Florent currently works in fashion retail and loves it. In October 2022, he was contestant #12 at the 50th anniversary of “Alternative Miss World”. “I didn’t win, but I won the heart of the people!” On the third Thursday of each month, he runs the “Colour Walk” in Old Spitalfields Market, an event that brings creative people together to celebrate the love of dressing colourfully, whilst helping to support the market.

Florent identifies as a male. When he dresses up, it is to present his personal vision of beauty. He becomes ‘a creature that is neither male nor female, a visual depiction of his personality without the restraints of gender labels’. ‘I combine elements of menswear and womenswear. I don’t shave, tuck or pad, I don't do wigs or boobs. I wear men's shirts and bow ties, women's dresses, heels and makeup,’

Even though he's often perceived as a drag queen he won’t be one until he performs on stage. Something he says will be the next step in his ‘UK-enabled’ personal development.

Jama Elmi is from Somalia, he moved to the UK when he was eight. His father, having been ambassador to the UK, was able to migrate here with his six children fleeing the Civil War.

When Jama started school in Chalk Farm he found it difficult to make friends and integrate. Aged nine he went and bought himself pink trousers and a Hawaiian shirt. All the kids came flocking.

In 2018 Jama was traveling on the Central Line from Stratford to Queensway. He looked around and at himself, everything was black, white or grey. Exasperated by the drabness he went straight out shopping and the passion for the power of flamboyant dressing was reignited. Jama now has between 80 and 90 colourful suit combinations.

Jama is a mental health support worker. He went to his interview for his current job in his rainbow suit. Gradually one by one the residents walked into the interview and complimented him on his suit. Some even hugged him. ‘The Boss Lady’ saw the impact and gave him the job there and then.

His suites still play an important therapeutic role in his day-to-day work. Each resident gets to pick their favourite colour for him to wear on a chosen day and when one resident wouldn’t talk anymore, Jama decided to turn up in a completely ‘wrong’ clashing outfit. She couldn’t resist commenting and soon the communication lines were reinstated.

The ‘therapy’ extends to the outside world too, always bringing a smile to the face of people whose path he crosses. Some days he can be stopped hundreds of times, whether for a photo or a simple 'hello'. ‘

When he’s not accepting awards for 'London's Best Dressed Man', working as a health support worker or posing for selfies, he spends his time looking after his elderly mother. She on the other hand spends her time concerned with how much it’s all costing.

Viveth Hardy is ‘The station lady that sings.’ She’s ‘Jamaican born and bred’. She moved here in 2002. Why? ‘It’s a mystery!’ she laughs, she laughs a lot, ‘Wasn’t a choice. Spontaneous. Things happen. You just move to it. I’m a gambler’.

In Jamaica she was mother of four boys (now fully grown and fled the nest) and a machine operator in a kids snack factory. When she moved here, she was a carer for 4 years.

Now she’s busy making commuters smile with her special gift of song. Why does she do it? ‘It warms my heart. It’s something to do with the within. I don’t do it because I want to sing. It’s a spiritual thing. I can’t control it. If it comes, I have to get with it. I don’t have any shame in my game. I be on the platform. I be on the street. I be at home. I just sing. I be sleeping. I wake up in the morning with a song in my head. I just sing. I’m like a Boom-Box’. She’s a Boom Box that’s a bit of a legend in Kensal Rise.

Umit Mesut Hasan is very popular. He gets a lot of attention from journalists and filmmakers (famous ones at that). He was featured in the Guardian this month and there’s a features length documentary in them making. It’s easy to see why. His shop is more like a museum of a bygone era, than a shop, that surprises at every head turn; reels, videotapes, memorabilia and most importantly reels of celluloid, culminating in the ultimate surprise at the back, a cinema. (See Open Britain Reels for photos)

Umit, 62, is Turkish Cypriot. His Grandfather, Behjet, had a cinema in Lefke in the North of Cyprus. “I have a lot to thank my grandfather for.”, he says with great fondness. Umit came to the UK with his family when he was nine. On leaving school he started working as a rewind boy at the Rio cinema, Dalston, then worked his way up to head projectionist.

‘Umit and Son’ started as a grocery store 35 years ago, but the passion ignited by his grandfather took over. Renting out videos turned into renting projectors til it eventually became all about film. His top three films are the original ‘King Kong’, ‘Bicycle Thieves’ and ‘Sunset Boulevard’.

Umit is surrounded by analogue. The radio was on, vinyl and vhs’s were for sale, he has no mobile phone or computer, and he only accepts cash. ‘Soon the telephone lines will be cut off you know’, he said with resignation…. He doesn’t hate digital, it’s just not his thing.

Umit was hospitalised during Covid, but like his shop, that has survived massive gentrification, he has incredible resilience.

Elizabeth Akalawu was born in Imostate, South East Nigeria. Her parents were yam farmers. (see picture). Elizabeth was a talented student. She studied general nursing and midwifery after school in Nigeria. She planned to come to the UK for two years but sixty years later she’s still here. It wasn’t an easy start though, she used to cry from homesickness.

From an early age she always wanted to look after and help people. So, the choice of nursing was an easy one. She had planned to teach midwifery, but when she arrived ‘they laughed at me’. Although trained by Irish nurses to European standards in Nigeria, they wanted her to redo her studies here. Elizabeth is a strong character, she pushed back. They then said she needed to do learn the cultural difference. Elizabeth didn’t have an answer for that. She negotiated it down to one year.

In the 80’s as a school nurse in Brent she discovered black parents were fearful of going to parents’ evenings and disadvantaged children were suffering. So, ‘Nurse Liz’ went on home visits to persuade the parents to attend. It worked. School nurses across Brent then followed suit. A new era began.

Elizabeth spent fifty-four years balancing being a mum and being a nurse. She loved being a midwife but admits she had bigger ambitions. Something that was neither helped by having four children nor coming from abroad.

Elizabeth is glad that things are easier for her children’s and grandchildren’s generations. She counts introducing home visits to schools in Brent as one of her greatest achievements. I can’t help thinking fifty-four years’ work for the National Health Service is pretty good too

Gladys Loretta Richardson was born in 1953 in the city of Mangalore, in the state of Karnataka. As a teenager she was district champion in athletics. Her mother was a nun and midwife, her father was in construction. Her mother wanted her to become a doctor, but Gladys had other ideas. She read a Mills and Boon novel in which a nurse fell in love with a doctor. Her mind was set on Nursing.

Sure enough whilst working in a hospital in Mangalore her fantasy came true and she fell in love with a doctor. Despite being from a high caste, the fact that he was Hindu and she was Catholic meant that the marriage was forbidden. Heartbroken Gladys tried to poison herself. She then moved to Bombay, where she made a meteoric rise to theatre nurse.

In 1982, at the age of 28, she moved to the Middle East. In Riyadh whilst working in hospitals she fell in with the party set. She remembers this time with great fondness. In 1993 she met Martin, a British engineer, who used to drive her from party to party in his ‘flashy Landover’. In 1995 they returned to the UK to marry. Over the years Gladys worked in almost every hospital in London and Essex. Gladys is quite outspoken and if she didn’t like the way things were done she would let people know. She recalls her and some of her colleagues often feeling bullied, she even went to court to fight against unfair dismissal, which she duly won. Gladys worked until 2023 and the age of 71, giving 27 years service to the National Health.

Gladys has had her ups and downs for sure. Her remedy for when she’s down? To cook a load of Indian food and dine with the homeless. The joy of giving and reminding herself of her relative good fortune is food for her own soul.

Gladys returns to Mangalore on a regular basis. This year she met her ex-boyfriend doctor again and went to his house to meet his family. His loss was the NHS’s gain.

Rudy William Agard was born in Barbados in 1941. He went to school til fifteen then worked as a gardener at a hotel followed by a stint on a sugar cane plantation. At this time he developed a passion for body building. Both his parents passed when Rudy was young. He’s not sure what took his mother but his father’s death was alcohol related.

His Uncle, the spit of Rudy. “`If you’d see him, you’d see me”, was in the UK and sent for him in 1961. He lived where the Trellick tower now stands. It was hard to start with, ‘I was in a strange place both mentally and physically’. But Rudy learnt to adapt.

His uncle got him a job with British Rail as a carriage cleaner. It was still steam-engine days when he started. He remembers working in the coal storage department and still having to blow the soot out of his nose weeks later. Rudy was a cleaner for 10 years before Fred Stevens, Rudi gratefully remembers his name, gave him an opportunity. He became a charge-hand, then a supervisor and then a manager. He tried to retire at 65 but was bored and back to work. Rudy gave 47 years of service to British Rail.

Rudy met all sorts. ‘Everybody’s not the same, some people liked us and some people didn’t’. Rudy remembers one worker refusing to take orders because of the colour of his skin as well as having to walk away from numerous confrontations despite his physical ability. Rudi has become more philosophical with age; he imagines if such large numbers had come to his island of Barbados he also might not react that well. He places a lot of blame on the government not preparing people back then, “It’s like me inviting you to my house and not telling my wife and kids what I’m doing. When you turn up, they’d ask ‘Where did he come from? Why is he here?’.”

I met Rudy at my local gym where he still goes 6 days a week. It is a pass-time that has given him so much. Baring in mind the challenges he faced and the history of alcoholism in his family, it almost certainly helped keep him on the straight and narrow.

Archbishop Costakis Cristos Evangelou MBE was born in Famagusta, Cyprus in 1958. His parents, encouraged by the British government, came for work when he was one. They had planned to go back but the Turkish invasion meant their land and possessions were seized. There was nothing to return to.

Growing up in North London Costas had to be able to handle himself. In fact, in 1977 he was caught up in a gang fight and seriously injured. Something that would go on to shape his future.

A combination of English being his second language, a lengthy bout of appendicitis and dyslexia meant that school wasn’t easy. Costas left at 16. He worked in factories and restaurants whilst pursuing his passion for music and sport.

Costas married at 22 and shortly after started to ‘feel the presence of God’. In his late 20’s Costas took his Batchelor of Divinity whilst working part time to support his wife and four children. He qualified to teach religious studies and music in secondary school. All this whilst still developing his role in the Apostolic church. In 1997 Costas was ordained as a minister.

Through his work with the church his role in the community ‘snowballed’. In 2004 he set up Edmonton Eagles Boxing Club to help keep kids off the street. Its work was recognised in 2015, when The Edmonton Eagles received the prestigious Queen’s Award for Voluntary Service and in 2019 when Costas was awarded an MBE.

Back In 2007 with help of the police and council the Eagles ‘home’ was established, at The Heart of Edmonton Community Centre, on Montagu Road, Edmonton. An area that at the time saw one death a month due to knife crime in a square mile radius. Thanks to Edmonton Eagles and Archbishop Evangelou that statistic is now a thing of the past and Edmonton is pumping out a number of boxing champions.

Ibrahim is from Lagos, Nigeria. He came at the beginning of the 80’s to do his A’levels and went on to Glasgow University to study accountancy. On graduation, whilst others were getting on the career ladder, he could only get small short-term contracts. Something he puts down to the colour of his skin. With 7 children to feed Ibrahim chose to switch to the consistency of driving a cab. As Ibrahim’s children started making life-choices he encouraged them to study medicine, ‘a career that discrimination could not effect’. He is the father to four doctors, a lawyer, a diplomat at the UK embassy in Washington and a student of Politics and Economics.

Nigeria is the 5th largest oil producer in the world yet 70% of the population live on under £2 a day. In 1978 the Nigerian Naira was on parity with the British Pound, today it is at nine hundred to one pound. Ibrahim told me religion is used as a weapon to enable the renowned political corruption in Nigeria. When we got onto his religion, he was fasting for Ramadan, he was quick to add that the most important faith to him was ‘humanity’.
Ibrahim has a thick Nigerian accent, something he confesses he has consciously maintained, ‘My accent is my identity’. His wife, now an NHS nurse, was chosen for him by his parents and the local ‘oracle’ and sent over to the UK. When I asked if this traditional method worked, he gave an important life lesson ‘If you don’t complain about someone, they won’t complain about you’.

Finally, we ended on what he saw as ‘the controversial subject of immigration’, ‘Without War there wouldn’t be an immigration problem. We need to stop the invasions’.

Dimitri Stefanov’s shop on the King’s Road, Chelsea is a ‘lighthouse’, only this one draws you in. When I photographed him in his shop, he was surrounded by friends and colleagues who he had just cooked for: His London family. It’s easy to see why, there is something extremely endearing about Dimitri.

Dimitri was born in Bulgaria. He didn’t go to school much. At fourteen he moved with his parents from Bulgaria to Greece and worked in polytunnels. Something he looks back at with great fondness.

In 2009 he moved to the UK to be with his friend an Antique Lighting dealer. The shift from aubergines to chandeliers was an easy one for Dimitri, despite absolutely no experience, he loved it. He helped with cleaning and maintenance of lights and running the shop.

Dimitri’s innate talent was spotted five years later by an octogenarian premier artisan chandelier maker called Philip Turner. Philip took him under his wing teaching him restoration, pinning and all the skills needed to create new and bring antique fittings back to life.

In 2010 Dimitri picked up some old iron chandelier frames that were being thrown out. He was ‘drawn’ to some raw rock crystals at the back of a friends chest of drawers and so the alchemy began. Three days later they were sold.

Soon after, encouraged by Philip, Dimitri left the shop to start making lamps of his own. The next chandeliers, a pair of swans, sold just as fast.

Dimitri is now one of the most pre-eminent rock crystal chandelier specialists in the world. He counts many of the world’s wealthiest people as his clients including celebrities, royalty, Claridge’s, Annabel’s and Gaudi Museum,Barcelona.

Dimitri is Philips legacy to the antique world and creating chandelier is Dimitri’s absolute passion. Having said that he still misses the polytunnels.

Dr Jai Kumari Gir was born in 1934 in Hydrabad, a childhood she describes as ‘completely idyllic’. In a sign of things to come she delivered two of her own brothers when her mother went into labour. They called her the ‘gypsy girl’ because of her incessant lust for travel and adventure and it soon became clear she wanted to make a career for herself in England. Not least because she had a thing about a classy English gentleman, with a particular penchant for Roger Moore.

She buckled down and studied hard. It took 4 months to get exams results in those days as the papers were shipped back to the UK. She gained a place at Girton College, Cambridge but because of currency restrictions couldn’t take it up. She continued to study in India till the restrictions eased and then took a place at West London School of medicine (now Charring Cross Hospital) in 1956.

She was quick to integrate into the UK something she believes was helped by the lightness of her skin. She ‘loved necking ciders’ in and around Holland Park and Notting Hill. As a Gynaecologist for many years and then a doctor in General Practice, she stresses the Health Service in the 1960’s was under the same pressure due the squeezing of resources.

Jai believes the way to stop any sort of discrimination is not through Governments or legislation, nor schools and their teachers, but with mothers themselves. She also says Britain is a country of immigrants. It always has been. ‘There are very few families who can claim to be entirely English in their bloodline’. No one, she says, ‘owns this Earth, and everything is on loan.’ Which means we should all be welcomed, wherever it is on the Earth, and ‘the British have been rather wonderful at this’.

I met her with her son Ayas, as I finished taking my snaps, he said with great fondness ‘You look so very wise’., ‘No I don’t I look like a witch.’

Silvina Cruz is from La Platta in Argentina. She moved here in 1997, before Argentina’s economic woes, in search of adventure rather than economic opportunity.

Her mother was aboriginal Guarani, a native Indian tribe that lives in the tropical rainforests of Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina. The women maintain fields of corn (maize), cassava, and sweet potatoes while men hunt and fish. Her mother was taken away from her family in the rainforest at the age of eleven to be a servant in the town of Misiones. Luckily, she connected with her sister and escaped to Buenas Aires at the age of 20, where she met Silvina’s father, who was of Portuguese descent.

Silvina spoke no English when she arrived in London. She started working as a waitress in ‘Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels type bar’ and as a life-model. Now she has a business running life-drawing classes. They run 4 classes a week: Camden, Holborn, Soho and Kings Cross. It attracts serious artists and people looking for something social equally. “What I found since Lockdown is things changed. People want to stay longer and want to connect. People missed the connection.”

Silvina made it back to Argentina to spend lockdown with her parents who passed shortly afterwards. Something she was visibly grateful for.

Sinead Stone née Doherty is only recently married, she’s still adapting to the name change. She’s from Donegal in the North-West of Ireland. She had the best ‘free’ childhood with her younger very tall brother Eugene, her ‘Wild Altantic Way’ fisherman Dad and her carer mum.

She studied children’s and general nursing at Trinity College, Dublin. There are no student loans in Ireland, so she is extremely grateful for her parents ‘who had to work their arse off’ to support her in becoming the first person in the family to go to Uni.

She’s always been very creative but was encouraged to do something with more security by her parents. Nursing runs in the family, so it was an easy choice. She had planned to do palliative care but found it too distressing, so paediatrics beckoned.

She was recruited to work at Great Ormond Street in 2015 and over she popped. And a couple of years later chose to specialise as a paediatric allergy nurse. Her job entails keeping children healthy in outpatient clinics rather than ‘making them better and sending them home’ which used to bring a sense of achievement that she misses. However, feeding children foods and waiting for the reaction keeps her on her toes.

She loves London ‘it’s the best city in the world’. London has allowed her to develop her own personal style, something she couldn’t do back in small town Donegal. She used to think London was so eclectic because everyone was so insular and getting on with their own thing but now believes it’s ok to be ‘unapologetically yourself’ because it’s so ‘wonderfully accepting’. That acceptance is exactly what ‘Open Britain’ is celebrating.

Sinead fulfills her creative urge from childhood by making flower crowns. She finds them in skips, car boot sales, nursing homes, charity shops... you name it. Bringing old flowers back to life may not be as rewarding as nursing young children but Sinead’s whole demeanor ignites when discussing this little creative passion.

Maud Kathleen Albert is 92. She was born in Castries, St Lucia in September in 1931. Her parents followed a subsistence style of living: baking, farming, carpentry and keeping bees for their own needs. Maud left school at 15 to help her parents.

At the age of 30 her eldest sister ‘sent for her’ from the UK and in December 1960 she travelled on the Merchant Vessel Bianca leaving her two children behind. She moved in with her sister in West London and started working as a cleaner to cover her share of the rent.

It was December when she arrived, and she remembers being very angry with her sister for sending for her. By day she would have to walk hand in hand with a friend to find the station through the smog and streetlighting. And by night not able to go out after 6 because of the threat of the racist Teddy Boys. Fortunately, things started to change relatively soon after her arrival as her community started to fight back against Teddies and the unjust police.

When settled Maud sent for her kids and married Clayton, a fellow St. Lucian. Between them they parented eight children. Maud worked days as a cleaner whilst Clayton looked after the kids before heading off on the nightshift, when Maud would take over. Maud was accompanied by her daughter Linda when we met who remembered a happy busy house in which the ‘shift parenting’ really worked.

Social worker, clinical psychologist, nursery school owner, psychotherapist, social worker for the hearing impaired and mental health administrator are just some of the jobs Maud’s children are doing. Who knows what the 21 grandchildren and 17 great grandchildren (and counting) will go on to give.

“Life, like those yoga mats, can be messy. It’s how we allow them to unravel and unfold that enables us to make sense of the mess instead of sanitising our experience.” Cat Alip-Douglas.

Cat Alip-Douglas was born in Manila, Philippines in 1972. She moved to New York with her family at the age of seven. Cat speaks with a subtle soft East Coast accent.

Her life in metropolitan Manila was a privileged one. At the time it was still under a dictatorship and divided into the haves and have-nots. Her parents employed domestic help not out of desire or necessity but to aid those in need. She remembers the first morning of school in the US being laughed at by her sisters for sitting on the end of her bed with arms raised waiting to be dressed. However, she took to independence quickly. She loved being a ‘latch-key kid’ in unruly 80’s NY.

At Rutgers University she discovered the NYC rave scene. Fast Forward from all night partying to planning parties at Condè Nast, ‘definitely no place like it at that time’. Cat loved her job but worked ridiculous hours and discovered yoga to help with the stress and insomnia.

September 11th 2001, Cat was in the office when flight 11 crashed into the North Tower. The focus on an upcoming work event meant she remained rooted to her desk, highlighting her ‘obliviousness and self-absorption’. Like for so many this turned out to be a wake-up call and a defining moment in her life. The yoga practice and its spiritual learnings became a lifeline.

In 2004, her London based tattoo artist boyfriend encouraged her to pack in the rat race and move to London. It took a while to adapt to the ‘slower’ pace of London, but turns out, it was exactly what she needed. Yoga took over. When Cat and her husband, who she met through her tattooist-ex, inherited the London Jivamukti Centre in 2011 it evolved into their own Sangyé Yoga School (Sangyé is Tibetan for Buddha - awakened

The change to Sangyé couldn’t have been smoother, thanks to the incredible commitment of students and teachers, but Covid, unsurprisingly, hit hard: they’re still nowhere near pre-pandemic levels. However, unlike many centres, they’re still standing and providing a valuable service to the North-West London community.