Things I've not missed about London 26/09/20

 London is very quickly becoming, much like Spain after my brief spell of living there, somewhere I try to avoid as much as possible, but that I inevitably end up visiting more often than I’d like. I’ve caught the train down from Newcastle for the day, considering 9 hours in this godforsaken hell-hole to be more then sufficient for the meeting I’m here for. Whilst here I’ve also booked an exhibition at ‘The Curve’ at the Barbican. To kill some time more than out of genuine interest. I could never fault London for its overwhelming number of things to do, although that doesn’t mean one ought necessarily to feel a compulsion to attempt to do everything. To be honest, in my opinion London could do with a brief period of lockdown at least twice a year, just to reset the rapidly growing anxiety that suffocates the streets and by extension the people in them. 

Upon exiting King’s Cross and heading for the tube station, I’m almost immediately intercepted by a woman literally up in my face, for whom the pandemic must have passed by unnoticed. I can think of no other possible reason why she would think it appropriate to be so far within my personal space. She tries to forcefully sell me a magazine although I would have thought it obvious I wasn’t interested from my fast pace and earphones. I’m not sure which other measures I could take simply to avoid unwanted attention. Is there a way of making oneself look even more unapproachable than usual? Typing this, I’m aware of how hostile and antisocial I must sound but, to rephrase Baz Luhrmann’s ‘Everybody's Free To Wear Sunscreen', I should have listened to his advice to “Live in London once, but leave before it makes you hard”. 

Once on the tube, after topping up my Oyster card (London is after all impossible to be in for more than 5 minutes without trying to rob you of every penny you have) I’m serenaded by the harmonious screeching sound of the rails scraping against one another. Oh how I’d missed having my ear drums perforated as part of my daily commute.

The tube itself I find to be an incredibly uncomfortable experience at the best of times, usually due to being wedged in between a stranger's knees or just the general sense of stifling claustrophobia when stuffed like sardines into a moving metal tube with seemingly no enforced maximum capacity. However, spending 40 minutes not only in too close proximity with other travellers, but the likes of whom have made the questionable decision to sport their masks covering their mouth but not their nose, as if they want to infect the whole compartment with Corona Virus, is too much. IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO WEAR YOUR MASK PROPERLY, THEN PLEASE GET OUT OF MY SPACE. 

I get off at Stratford, where I lived briefly in student accommodation for university, and feel a touch of PTSD sneaking it’s way in. I can’t believe I’ve travelled more than 5 hours to essentially regress to the place i so desperately wanted to escape 7 months ago. Westfield, the shopping centre, is as always unpleasantly packed and I find myself having to zig zig between crowds of people seemingly oblivious to the directional arrows on the floor. Halfway along the ground floor I get stuck behind two particularly slow walking men, which under normal circumstances I would find unbelievably frustrating. A sentiment only exacerbated by the fact that I’ve been wearing a mask for the better part of my conscious day and need to get outside just for a breather. 

I dart out of an exit near Stratford International and am greeted by a sight almost reminiscent of ’Las Terrazas’ in Spain. I forget of course, spending the majority of my time in Newcastle which is (geographically, though not monetarily) so high up in England I’ve been told it’s basically Scotland, that the southerners are blessed with far nicer weather than us northerners. 

The play area is full of children and their mothers (absolutely not socially distancing but seemingly enjoying themselves) and I see people picnicking or having an afternoon pint at the benches and tables placed outside. If I had less sense, I’d regret my decision to move away back up North, away from pleasant scenes like this one and the warm September evenings I enjoyed last year. However, I value both my sanity and my education far too much to force myself to bear another two years in this overrated, over polluted and overpopulated city. Everything about it is just too much, and not in the exciting way that Disney Land or Times Square is. If nothing else, this visit had reminded me that one day here is more than enough.