I love the way you spin me round on your buses. In a world of seatbelts, you let me swing down curly wurly stairs as you go round roundabouts and swerve through traffic lights.

I love your buskers on the Tube

And the ice cream vans outside the Tate

And the mural of the Thames frozen over when Mr Shakespeare was alive that we hurry through to come up into the grey daylight that you wrap round us like a lambswool scarf

And I love your snug pubs

And your caffs with plastic tables and bacon and beans

And the ducks in St James Park

And the teddies in the windows of Hamleys

And the kids by Camden Lock

And those jewels locked deep in The Tower

And The Barbican’s ugly concrete blocks

And Sunday roasts and reggae in Brixton pubs

And swimming in cold lidos with grandmas and mums

And meeting my friend on Hampstead Heath to see the sky

With a sandwich from M&S

And I love the whale in The Science Museum

And the young footballers on Hackney’s fields

And the king having tea when the flag is raised

And Fortnum’s jars of coffee and those turquoise bags

And grubby Soho on a Friday night

And high heels and red tights waiting for the train

And what everyone else is reading

And watching on their phones

And dogs excited by leaves

And frogs in the marshes

And the hushed rush of planes

Swirling above blocks of flats

I love all you have been

And no longer are

And what you will be

For someone else

London you will always be to me

The greatest city in the world

But you’re still too small

For this northern girl