She Loves London

Author: She Loves London

  • Nothing Compares to London (except maybe a nice beach)

    As much as we all love this city, I don’t know one Londoner who doesn’t also love leaving it.

    Temporarily, of course.

    No one’s saying you’ve got to pack your bags and actually go and live in Singapore or Switzerland or Boston or whatever (don’t be mental), but because living in London is like being in a bubble – a really expensive bubble where no one can afford houses and cocktails are £8.50 – every so often it pays to get out of the city and see what the rest of the world has to say about life.

    And usually, it’s “£8.50? Sod that”.

    suitcase tube

    While some people might choose to escape London for the English countryside – Epping Forest or Kew Gardens or something –  I decided that a week in the French Alps, followed by ten days on a beautiful island in the Philippines would be a much better idea.

    And you know what? It took upwards of 20 hours by plane, perilous road and boat to get there, but in the grand scheme of good ideas, this was probably the best one I’ve had in ages.

    beach

    During this time of relaxation, reflection and slathering on Factor 30, I had plenty of time to ponder all the ridiculous reasons we have for living in a drizzly, expensive city like London when there’s a viable sunny alternative a mere 20 hours across the world – see above – where cocktails are 60p and the sea water makes London Fields Lido look like a muddy puddle.

    I did also consider the practicalities of changing my blog URL and title to “She Loves London But If She Could Swap It For This Beach Then She Probably Would” dot com, but concluded, over a mango Mojito and a plate of fresh tuna, that it just didn’t have the same ring to it.

    And so reluctantly, after ten days in paradise, I came back.

    flying into heathrow

    The niggling question of “why do I live here? Why do I write this blog about loving London when I could be writing one about how much I love a beach? WHY? WHY?” followed me all the way to Heathrow, through the pit of despair that is baggage reclaim, and lasted right up until I walked into arrivals and threw my suitcase into the capable arms of Mohammed.

    And trust me, if there’s one person you want to see after a 13 hour flight, it’s Mohammed.

    Without him, I’d still be in Heathrow, hammering on the doors of a grounded Singapore Air A380 wailing “take me back, please, I’ll do anything, just take me back”.

    For Mohammed was a chauffeur, and chauffeurs hold signs with your name on and make everything better.

    They also help you remember why you live in London and write about it, because when you do, you get limousine companies like Blacklane asking if you’d like a free ride sometime and kids, in my moment of need, that time was now and that chauffeur was Mohammed.

    And he had water bottles in the armrest and everything.

    limo from airportWe drove through London at 7am, zooming through Hyde Park, Kensington and Knightsbridge, past Kings Cross and over to Dalston, and in between putting the world to rights I wondered how many blog posts I’d have to write, or which member of Made in Chelsea I’d have to kiss, in order to get driven everywhere, forever more.

    Then I was home, and Mohammed was gone, and the post holiday despair returned.

    But it didn’t last long.

    Because there are many lovely beaches in the world, but where can you walk down a busy street and see a man casually walking his ferret along the pavement on your lunchbreak?

    ferret on strand

    London, that’s where.

    So with all that beaching and holidaying out of my system, normal London service will now resume.

    The blog is also now on Instagram, where you can see ferrets, dogs, disappearing buildings and dubious tinned meat from Dalston’s Turkish shops on a daily basis. Follow: @SheLovesLondonBlog

    Instagram



  • London Regulars: The Bag Bike on the Strand

    When you work in the same place for a while, “regulars” crop up along your commute.

    They’re in the same place, at the same time every working day, and if a week or so passes and they’re not there, you start to wonder where they’ve gone.

    On my walk along the Strand every morning and evening, I’ll often recognise the people going in the opposite direction.

    And every area of London has its characters – those who are a little bit odd, or eccentric – who everyone seems to know.

    Not to speak to or say hello, or even acknowledge the fact that you pass each other every single morning without fail, but more as an internal nod, “oh, YOU again.”

    There’s one old man who always seems to be around on the Strand.

    You might recognise him by his huge beard and hat, but mostly you’d know him because he’s usually pushing this along the pavement:

    bike front

    If you look really really carefully underneath all the mountains of bags, you’ll see it’s not a pile of rubbish that someone has inconveniently strewn across the pavement on Adam Street at all.

    It’s actually a bike.

    overloaded bike

    The Bag Bike has been a resident on Adam Street – without its owner – for about two weeks now.

    No one knew where the Bag Bike’s Owner had gone, just that he’d left his Bag Bike behind and it was blocking the pavement.

    Despite this, no one dared get rid of it.

    No one tried to nick it (pro tip right there, London cyclists).

    No one tried to dismantle the bags.

    First it was parked up at the top of the road, and then someone moved it down to just outside our office, where people wandered by and marvelled at it, and took pictures (mostly me).

    Until eventually and inevitably, someone took strong, affirmative action against the offending article.

    By, err, writing a note. And leaving it there.

    notice for bike

    You might think this an ineffective use of time, but it’s a well known fact that underlining words and using CAPITAL LETTERS makes whatever you’re asking for happen more quickly.

    And like magic this morning, three days after the note was put up, the bike was gone.

    The Bag Bike Man had returned!

    bag bike leaving
    Photo diligently snapped and e-mailed round the office by my esteemed colleague Jenny

     

    This sighting and movement has prompted questions in the office such as:

    1) Where has Bag Bike Man been for the last two weeks?

    2) Is the Bag Bike Stick of Wood a new, permanent addition?

    3) Did word get to him that his bike was under threat?

    Either way, it’s good to have you back, Bag Bike Man.

    And on behalf of the commuters on the Strand – we’ll see you around.

    Ps. SUBSCRIBE TO MY BLOG. 

    It was worth a try.

  • Is This the Most Civilised Bus Stop in London?

    There are several ways you can tell that an area has reached Peak Gentrification.

    Aside from the crazy increase in house prices, there’ll be new artisan coffee shops, delis, baskets of brioche bread, sour dough sarnies lying about the place and liberal usage of the word “organic”. 

    TimeOut will write that the trendy moustache and beard wearing hipsters absolutely adore shopping for vintage finds in the area’s pop-up ramshackle car boot sale, and the streets will be full of young, affluent people who, between sobs, will tell you they’ve just paid £600,000 for a 1 bed flat above a kebab shop after getting caught in a sealed bid.

    But for me, the surest sign that an area has achieved peak well-heeled status is when people start to form an orderly queue at the bus stop.

    I mean, look at this.

    Just look at it.

    polite queuing for bus

    This is the scene every morning at a bus stop on Southgate Road in N1. Here, the commuters queue for their bus; come rain, hail, storm, or tube strike.

    At the bus stops before and after – Stamford Hill, Dalston to Old Street – there are no queues. But here in DeBeauvoir the bus shelters are empty, and there is a clear ‘get to the back of the line‘ policy happening.

    The only other place this seems to happen is in Canary Wharf, where everyone pretends they are still in a bank even after they leave work.

    Canary_Wharf_tube_station_queue

    I suspect this Southgate Road queue business is probably something to do with the fact that the bus is always too full to let people on once it gets here, hence the need for the “I was here first, I deserve the bus more” thing.

    It’s all very British.

    Personally, I prefer the rules further up the road in Dalston, where commuters advocate a much more effective “My elbows are sharper than yours, and I’ve got a bus arrival app so technically I saw it coming first, and god damn it get out of my way, this one’s mine, bitches” approach to boarding a bus.

    bundle bus dalston

    What can I say? It’s not pretty, but it works for us.

    So, is this the most civilised bus stop in London? Or have Posh Bus Queues become a thing near you too?