Sometimes I wonder why I don’t talk about London that much in my blog.
I did write about my first impressions of London before, but that was about it.
Maybe it’s because I always thought of my time here as finite. A stopover on my way to someplace else. Maybe it’s because I can’t help thinking about work when I think of the City.
Sometimes I feel a twinge of envy when I see tourists lugging their heavy suitcases down the Underground steps, walking down Oxford Street with their mega DSLRs, standing on the wrong side of the escalators and pissing everyone off. They all look so starry-eyed–so much to see smell feel do! We’re in London!
I think to myself a fresh pair of eyes would be nice.
Nowadays, on hearing there are delays on the Central Line “due to a person under the train” my first thought would be ‘oh shit now I’ll be late for work.’ And it’ll occur to me that I’ve been living in the City too long.
London has the ability to introduce you to a different kind of loneliness–the kind that hits you hard even when you’re with family or with friends.
I don’t know what it is about the place… perhaps it’s just the volume of people always coming and going wherever you are, perhaps it’s how deeply old and big London is. If you’re not too careful it’ll swallow you whole.
It’s been quoted and paraphrased so many times it’s almost a tired cliché: “When a man is tired of London he is tired of life.” Which London was Samuel Johnson talking about? For there are many Londons, each as individual and diverse as the many little lives that make up this city.
The fact that your little slice of London isn’t going down too well doesn’t mean anything. The bond between some cities and some people just isn’t made to last very long. And that’s okay.