This is the poem I wrote drinking coffee in Highams Park, Greater north west London. I was saying goodbye to the big smoke, severing ties and preparing to take the long and hazardous pilgrimage to Glastonbury to graze in new spiritual pastures. Gnaw thy socks with jealousy Lord Byron...

Adieu, oh rumbustious carbuncle, cacophony of cyclist sweat,

Will I miss your chaotic whine, your shanty mess of buy to let,

Will I lament your pot-holed conduits, your capilliary tangle of trains,

Your tower of babel yapping, your grubby, vibrant lanes?

Will I remember the stomping grounds, where a child became a man,

Leciester square, regents park, ( twinned with Pakistan),

Muswell hill and Finchley, Edgeware, mill hill too,

Many nooks and crannies where experience could accrue.

Time to piss off, head for west, I'm done with the big smoke,

Time to find community, where the people are more 'woke'.