Phil Gyford

After seeing 2lmc mention it earlier in the week I went and bought issue one of Smoke yesterday. It’s as pleasing as I hoped, free of Hoxtonian style-mag nonsense, and with OK writing too (aside from a predilection for overly-long and unfunny similies). The contributors are excited about living in London, about its history and its fictions, and have a refreshing lack of sarcasm and cynicism. And it has a photo of the Temple of Mithras bus stop.

This is my city. This is our city. When I hang up my bag on the Met Line. When I hang from the pole of a Routemaster. When I skip through the tunnels at King’s Cross. When I run for front seat on the Docklands Light Railway. When the chimneys of Battersea loom into view. When I spot Canary Wharf from a precious new place. When I walk the warm streets of Brixton. When I run round the clock tower at Golders Green. When I wake up, half-drunk, at High Barnet. When I wake up, still dreaming, at Morden. When I find a new postcode with which I fall in love. When I find a short-cut never spotted before. When my breath catches me, suddenly, as it did that first time, and all the others, when crossing Westminster Bridge. When I wander the streets, half-tired, half-there perhaps, with friends and companions, or sometimes alone, and suddenly see it again, in the air above.