Some years ago, when I'd first written my collection Misery And Other Lines, I wanted a tagline for it. Something that would speak to that vibe of stepping into a different world; certainly a world from several years earlier (since the collection is set in 2015 and I'd finished writing the collection in February 2022). 'Welcome to Halloween in the capital' was the tagline and the sentiment; introducing you to one Halloween night on and around London Underground. But that sensibility of introducing you to London as though it were a show still sticks with me. The cool, the intriguing, sometimes drama, etc.
Welcome to the capital.
Earlier this year, I got wind of fellow author Kev Harrison coming over to London from Portugal. Given that I don't see this good man often enough, I ask him if he's up to hang; food, drinks, shop talk, etc. I find a place called Sartori's: an Italian restaurant in Leicester Square, which is in 'the West End' ...as well as being in Central London. Anyhow. I round up fellow authors Gavin Jefferson, Erik Hofstatter, Sarah Farr, and Nuzo Onoh, with an aim to take on one of the restaurant's metre-long pizzas. With dietary requirements of the group considered, only three of us took on that metre-long pizza. And I'm happy to report that most of it ended up inside me. Followed by dessert.
What I'm thinking on in particular as I write this is an assertion from Nuzo during the meal. Knowing how much I love London and represent it in my work, the assertion was that a city may or may not take to you - and that, if it does, it should feel like home.
I'm a London native. Born and raised in the capital and proud of. Aside from a stint in Tyne and Wear at uni, I've not lived anywhere else. London feels more like home now than it did when I was a kid. These are progressive times we live in and I've seen London progress. More diversity in restaurant cuisines around the capital. Racial and cultural diversity in the city's workforce. Ecuadorian tailors and black surgeons. Openly gay TV presenters. Young entrepeneurs. The landscape evolves - certainly with taller buldings over the last twenty years or so - and the view of the cityscape changes. Everything from how the city looks with these buildings in to what you do when you're in these buildings. Views from the Oxo Tower restaurant, some eight floors up (if memory serves) to the likes of the bar and restaurant at The Shard - some thirty-two floors up.
When I was a kid growing up, I remember 'London Calling' by The Clash. Not to throw shade, but that song never really moved me. But 'London Town' from Light Of The World? Now that's a different story. Even now, when summer hits the capital, that's the tune that comes to mind, which speaks to the cool in the city. Given now that we're in summer right now - although you might have missed it, given how fickle London weather has been - Light Of The World's classic is still one of those I catch myself singing when the weather is good.
'Through Regent's Park, down through Trafalgar Square.'
What I'm mindful of is the countless 'gems' that I discover in the city; those experience big and small that bring London to life. The urinals in the men's room at the Shard; right up against the window, so that you can look thirty-two floors down when you're shaking hands with the president. The obvious tourists on London Underground that push the buttons to open train doors; not knowing that the doors will open anyway. The Jazz Cafe in Camden, where the doors may open at 7pm, but the headline act probably won't start until two hours later. Boats that you can catch along the River Thames the same way you'd catch a bus, underground train or overground train. Upright pianos at King Cross St. Pancras station, ready and waiting for any gifted passer-by to tinkle the ivories and move the crowd. Street performers in Leicester Square. Militant seagulls in Canary Wharf that dive and attack any on the tube station plaza foolish enough to eat while unguarded out in the open. Hotel Chocolat stores, whose wares are gorgeous to look at, let alone eat (or damned-near inhale). Pubs that soak the air with beer from behind heavy and varnished wooden doors. Pakistani jewellers in Tooting. Chinese buffet houses in the West End under strings of red paper lanterns criss-crossing the streets. String quartets playing Hans Zimmer film scores in Westminster. Stone devils up at Cornhill watching the street ...and maybe waiting for the right moment to come alive.
And countless more gems ...like the Jazz Café. Which frequently hosts acts that play anything but jazz. Blues, funk, rap, soul...
With this in mind and the sensibility I have for writing, there's a whole lot to bring the page, a whole lot of stories to capture and illustrate that breadth, that diversity. And, of course, push narratives to some dark and terrifying places.
The irony here is that for all my years in the city, I'm still learning things about it. Things that I may have missed or not yet caught up to - and things that are new to the city that I eventually catch wind of. There's such a richness to this city, vast in its diversity and breadth. Is it perfect? Absolutely not. I think this whenever there's another black teenager dead from a stabbing. Another fire in a block of flats. Another failing in healthcare which has jeopardised or taken an innocent life. No, the city isn't perfect.
But, this is my home, my jungle - my territory. It's got a lot going for it; that's what I choose to believe. So whether you do or don't, I'll still bid you the same.
Welcome to the capital.
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