God only knows how this will read. First column written without a Consul menthol dangling fetchingly from my lower lip. Four months down the line, cold turkey, no fags, and a new Stoke Newington has opened up to me.

My horizons now encompass Rasa - very nice - the cafe next to the Fox Reformed where I used to dash in for some bread but now spend a smug leisurely hour with the papers, and even Fresh And Wild has had some sit-down custom from me.

I now notice that Stokey really is the home of the diehard gasper. Avoiding fag ash in N16 is not easy. Even a new restaurant like Bar 98 has no No Smoking area and we spent a horrible lunchtime there recently being swathed in Eau De Benson and Hedges from the chain-smokers on the next table. It really is the most filthy, disgusting habit imaginable and these days I have no compunction in telling people so. The sooner every pub, restaurant and bar in N16 bans this vile, deadly trade in coffin nails the better, say I.

Fat chance. Stokey's non-comformist, anti-regulatory, sub boho milieu, i.e. it's full of deadbeats, means smoking will remain an OK recreational activity here. I've begun avoiding editorial meetings of this very magazine because virtually every name under the masthead smokes relentlessly through each issue's agenda. You're all going to die I tell you, in agony. And no, I don't miss them. So stop telling me I do.

Now then - who are 5 Guns? I only ask because in the space of around two weeks they seem to have practised their non-existent artistic skills on a plethora of walls, shop blinds and pavements in N16. I'm sure that if the dear things could be persuaded to stop desecrating the entire neighbourhood we could give them space in the mag to tell us why they feel so compelled, what political philosophy lies behind their protest and what cultural changes they wish to see.

I did promise you a full run down on the 106 bus route action group in this issue - come on, I can see that breath bating away - but sadly 'tis not to be. There were half a dozen of us well worked up about the debacle and prepared to put our time, energy and Basildon Bond into things, but hundreds of petition-signing hangers-on didn't feel quite the same. Lots of mutterings and 'how's it going?,' 'right behind you', 'let us know', but when we needed anyone to actually do anything The Great Stokey Apathy kicked in.

However, if someone doesn't do something soon Church Street will seriously cease to exist. Karen of Route 73 cornered me in the supermarket the other day about the latest archeological dig of the road. This time it's 'bendy buses' which need 176 new bus stops apparently, equals absolutely no parking whatsoever in Church Street. Result, business down the pan. I wish I could have been of some comfort to her. But Transport For London, Ken's major hobby horse, believes it can ride roughshod over us all. The 106 Action Group knows this only too well.

Stoke Newington without Jim Murphy is like, well, Laurel without Hardy, Marks without Spencer, booze without a ten minute chat about your bunions thrown in.

But now he's retired, folks, sort of. Mine Host of Clissold Wines, N16's favourite offie for almost two decades, has stepped down to spend more time with his cat Mulder and his property portfolio. But he'll be on hand to show new owner Murat, of The Blue Legume, what it takes to charm, flatter and run one of Stokey's most successful outlets.

We've seen some changes, yes we've certainly seen some changes', says Jim, 56, fixing me with that lizard-like gaze and not so much choosing his words as cherry picking them ultra carefully. He's nobody's fool is Jim. 'It was beer and spirits when we arrived but it's wine now', he says of Stokey's imbibing habits.

'The Islington spill over (not spilt drinks but houses) saw a big change in drinking habits.'
Jim's wife Margaret, 56 (she'll thank him for that), son Steve 30 and occasionally daughter to be, Caroline 22 knew more about you than you knew about yourself. 'We shall miss the people a great deal', says Jim. 'It's the people that have made it for us. It's a great villagey social atmosphere in Stoke Newington. I like to think we've built up a good rapport with our regulars.' He certainly has. In my time I've asked Jim and Margaret about builders, roofers, electricians, passed the time of day, rushed in and out and my daughter's usually left with a freebie chocolate bar.

Originally from Cork by way of Dublin and Australia, Jim has fought competition from the likes of Oddbins who would have seen off a lesser off licence in less than six months. 'Business was down by over half after they first opened', says Jim, sanguinely, 'but it came right in the end.' Of course it did. Jim's a man who weighs up the opposition and never panics. Even knockdown fights and shoplifting fail to faze him. 'I've had relatively little trouble here to tell you the truth'. he says. 'Last year someone came in with a gun but I told him to, ah, buzz off.'

The Murphys will be missed.