SMOKE

I'm in the smoke for two days.

Old habits die hard.

At Laytham, looking at the sky, looking up, is a way of life. the sky is big, and graffiti ed onto your consciousness.

In London, though, looking up is a minority sport. but you see some surprising things when you do.

Three examples this morning. The Coliseum is surmounted by a wrought iron globe resting on the shoulders of nine slave boys. Then there's four lions. Only then four muses. An odd hierarchy for a theatre.

At the corner of St. Martin's Place, there's an automaton of a cooper, endlessly and pointlessly raising and dropping his left arm. Look only at street level and you miss him.

Also easy to miss, there are portholes in the spire of St. Martin's in the Field. Why?

This afternoon I am off to the bank of England. Think I'll try and get a bail out package for small consultancy businesses. What better use for the taxpayer's pound?