Ian McMillan

Lamb’s Conduit Street A world in miniature; a universe in a grain of sand. You can look from one end and see the other end. You couldn’t call it majestic. It isn’t very grand And yet I think it’s monumental. A nuanced blend Of shops and popups and café’s you can pop in, Slip out … Continue reading “Ian McMillan”

Lamb’s Conduit Street

A world in miniature; a universe in a grain of sand.
You can look from one end and see the other end.
You couldn’t call it majestic. It isn’t very grand
And yet I think it’s monumental. A nuanced blend
Of shops and popups and café’s you can pop in,
Slip out of carrying coffee that makes everything clear
And somehow this street quietens the city’s din
And concentrates the careworn mind to the sheer
Pleasure of simply walking down a welcoming street
That asks you to pause, take your time, have a look
And follow a different, independent, subtle beat.
Buy a shirt. Buy a croissant. Meet your mate. Buy a book.
I went there with my son and he turned to me and said
‘This is the perfect street. I’ll always live here in my head.’

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