Your Reservation Code Is MWDX9768
Through driving rain on the boundless, endless motorways of England, from estuary to city to harbour and back. From M4 to M5. Megabus and Megatrain and one pound fares to Stoke-on-Trent. I take the seat with all the legroom and stretch across into the aisle, seatbelt dangling dangerously down. A scrunched up Guardian stuffed into the back pocket of the seat in front. The constant whirr of air conditioning and the distant hum of others' iPods.
I'm coming home, I'm coming home and it's stopped raining and I see the signs for Woking and a plane races alongside as it takes it's slot to land at sprawling Heathrow. Car parks and hulking, white bricked offices line my raised path into London. The Great West Road. I sweep into the city three hours from home and I'm snaking through the streets of somewhere I once loved.
Sat on a cold metal bench I see the couples broken apart by a hundred and fifty mile journey, the gaunt faces of a hundred workers stepping from their stagnant coach. A crumpled sheet of A4 paper on the windscreen says LONDYN. London. “Please don't leave any items of luggage unattended”. “Please note smoking is not allowed inside Victoria Coach Station”. Please be aware of these things. They are of the utmost importance. This is Londyn. Please be aware of this.
*Adam Smith is a novelist, poet and bookseller currently living in Bristol but originally from Norwich.
