I’m a Londoner

It’s so nice to have family visiting! My in-laws are here from South Africa. It was lovely showing them our little haunts. I found, however, that the visit did expose me for the pushy little Londoner I have become. It is shameful to admit, but I have been known to get on the tube before letting the other passengers off, and tutting to myself when the map wielding tourists are dawdling in front of me, breaking my speed walking momentum. I wasn’t always like this. I was utterly intimidated during my first weekend in London. The tube map looked like an undecipherable maze I was bound to get lost on; everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going and if you got in their way they simply pushed you aside; I had never used public transport before in my life and wondered how I would ever figure out exactly which bus to get on. I remember sitting on the bus on that first weekend and watching a woman run toward the stop so she could catch her bus. Horrified, I turned to my husband and remarked, “I will NEVER run to catch a bus, how embarrassing!” Oh how naïve of me!

I am a fast learner. When it’s cold and you’ve had to wait at the bus stop for over 20 minutes (because the busses are rarely on time in London), simply because you missed your bus; you will be very sure to run to catch it if you see it coming before you’ve reached the stop. You don’t care what you’re carrying; you don’t care that the boots you are wearing have heels; you don’t care that you have to hitch up your knee length jacket so you can get a good stride. When you see bus 164 turning the corner, you run as if the spirit of Usain Bolt has come upon you, regardless of who’s looking.

I was also unaware of the amount of walking I was to do in my new country of residence. Back home in S.A we had friends from England who had invited us one night to go out for dinner. We met at their house and they revealed that the restaurant was only 10 minutes away and suggested we walk.

Walk?! Walk? Why on earth would we walk when we could simply get in the car? Plus it was dark outside; who knew what dangers lay behind the blackened bushes. I looked at my husband beseechingly. Surely he would agree with me.

“Sure,” he said to the group, “let’s walk!” The traitor.

It must be known that I now walk, a lot. Why pay £1.30 to go a couple of blocks when you can take a stroll. After work we all make our way to the South Kensington station. When I first got here I could hardly keep up, almost out of breath at our destination. But now I’m just as speedy as the rest. Being a Londoner certainly does change you!

These posters can be seen in the tube stations. They're a good chuckle to read.

           

No Fear

I went for a walk in Clapham Common today….just because I can. An hour and a half walk….just because I can! I don’t like to run my country of birth down, but there is something so freeing in the fact that I can go for a walk on my own without any fear. I will be the first to say that life in London isn’t necessarily better, it’s just different. Like being able to go for fear free strolls. And public transport. Getting used to public transport has been fun.

My favourite comedian, Michael McIntyre, does a stand-up skit about tube transportation in London, in particular telling of a commuter who, in desperation to get onto the carriage, took numerous hits by the closing doors before squeezing his way onto an already full train. Hilarious stuff. Even more hilarious when you actually witness it in person. How desperate are you to get onto the carriage? Being late for work I can tell you that you can be extremely desperate. As you stand on the platform and edge closer to the front of the crowd; you secretly declare that no matter what, you ARE getting on the next tube. Once you have crammed on, safe in the knowledge that no one else could POSSIBLY fit in; the train stops at the next station and another 3 people push their way in; having probably made the same declaration as you.

One such morning I was on the Northern line; inappropriately invading several commuters’ personal space next to me. Even more people boarded at the next station, taking mine and my neighbors relationship to the next level. At the stop just before mine my lunch packet took a brutal beating as several people pushed their way past me to exit. One lady decided she had enjoyed me in her personal space and wanted to take my arm with her. I was flattered, but I declined and retrieved my arm with my now torn lunch packet. And even more people had boarded the train. Next station was my stop. I turned toward the door announcing to those around me that I planned to get off soon. They didn’t seem to notice. In fact when the doors opened and I even said “Excuse me” no one noticed. Panic set in. I was already at risk of being late for work and didn’t want the doors closing and having to make my way back from the next station. So I did what every other Londoner does. I pushed….aggressively.

I made it to work on time, but have now developed an intense dislike for the Northern Line. And I lost my yogurt.

I took the bus home.

Speaking of living in no fear; I just let a very cute little man in the flat who wanted to check our boiler. I’m not alone in the house, so if I go down my oblivious flat mate is going down with me. He had a round face, and a lisp; how bad could he be? And he has all the genuine boiler gadgets, and definitely seemed to be doing boiler specific things. Aright I’ll admit that letting strange men into the flat is not a good idea, and maybe next time I should first ask for some boiler-man credentials. The lisp must have thrown me off….