One of the biggest daily issues Londoners face is avoiding acquiantances on their commute.
Much like how planes stay in the sky through the collective will of 300 people, London’s transport system runs on the unspoken agreement that obligatory conversations about whether this week is
a) dragging
b) going really quickly
c) ever going to be over!
belong in the kitchen at work, not a Jubilee line platform pre 9am, the 07:32 Watford to Euston, or the number 38 bus.
Although if you have a dog I may talk to you
This is precisely why Londoners don’t look at each other on public transport.
It’s not strangers we’re trying to avoid, it’s mistakenly locking eyes with someone we know.
Because when that happens, you have to quickly calculate the number of possible conversation topics versus remaining tube stops, and decide whether you’re going to begrudgingly remove your headphones, or stop walking, slowly avert your gaze, turn around, walk to the opposite end of the platform, and research alternative routes to work
Thankfully most Londoners respect the rules.
We’ve perfected looking both directly at and through people at the same time, thus avoiding ever having to acknowledge someone’s presence.
But sometimes people go rogue, and we’ve all felt the impending doom of a cheery ‘oh, hello, do you get this train too?’. We’ve witnessed the too-long gaps between conversations about weekends plans and office tea shortages and ‘where do you live then?’ echoing through an otherwise silent carriage.
We’ve felt the pain of two acquaintances five minutes into their joint journey, inwardly counting down the stops, wondering how they got to this point, what they could have done differently, where did they go wrong?
My favourite bus is an empty one
Commuting is like brushing your teeth.
It’s a personal, twice-daily routine you sort of weirdly look forward to, things only go wrong if you try talking at the same time.
We all have stuff planned for that 45 minute slot: reading books (see below), listening to podcasts, silently judging everyone around us, compiling a particularly banging early noughties playlist on Spotify, or repeatedly refreshing Twitter on our phone.
But commutes are sacred, and rules are rules: without them London doesn’t run. So stand on the right, let people off before you get on, and if you see someone you know getting on your bus, do the right thing: let them travel alone.
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It’s not so much the whole running for 26 miles stuff that bothers me – I mean, they’re your knees, do what you want – and more the fact that most marathons take place on a Sunday. Which, if I need to remind you, is a designated day of rest.
And as for standing around watching it, we can all probably concede that – again, on paper – the London Marathon should fall into the same category as other events that involve negotiating busy tubes, metal barriers, large crowds of slow moving people, loud cheering, intermittent horn blasts and clacking noises, road closures, medium to mild inconvenience, processions, prize givings, podiums, ceremonies, the switching on (or off) of lights, temporary seating and stages, Sir Paul McCartney, pyrotechnics set to music, and a BBC film crew.
In other words, the Marathon should be like all the other occasions that make Londoners go a bit “oh, not all this again” (unless, of course, they’re getting a day off work).
But for some reason, it’s not.
Some other celebratory nightmare.
My attendance at the London Marathon started about four years ago.
This was around the time that my friends began taking on grueling life challenges for absolutely no reason at all. The usual charity “fun” (lol) runs, an uptake in gym memberships, long distance bike rides – escalating, worryingly, to the odd, casual 10k.
It wasn’t long before they were climbing mountains on holiday, and choosing to tackle barbed wire-filled obstacle courses instead of going to the pub, until there was no hill left to scale and they were left with the London Marathon.
At which point, as a non-runner, it’d be easy to feel a bit inadequate.
But luckily I realised there was still a place for me at these events, because clearly what these friends really needed was someone cheering from the sidelines, offering them bits of Monster Munch and sips of G&T.
The London Marathon is now one of my favourite things to go and watch each year. So even if your mates aren’t mad enough to sign up for it, here’s why you should go down.
Jesus Christ.
1. You can be outside all day for free
It’s deceptively hard to find things to do outdoors in London during springtime without a) sitting in a park feeling a bit chilly or b) going to the pub. But watching the Marathon is free, and outdoors, and if you jump up and down occasionally that counts as exercise, which makes for much better ‘what did you get up to’ small talk in the work kitchen on Monday compared to your usual ‘yeah, good thanks, mostly just laid about watching Netflix’.
2. Spotting the most ridiculous running outfits will become your favourite form of entertainment
Hold tight the man who runs with a fridge on his back. Shout out to barefoot Jesus Christ with a cross. Big up the dinosaur onesie gang. You are all, without exception, completely mental.
3. It makes you feel like you’ve done a v. good deed
When you watch the London Marathon you earn back all the karma points you lose every time you pretend to be on the phone or yell ‘Sorry! Can’t stop! On my way to a meeting!’ or ‘I already give to charity, mate!’ at the Save The Children cagoule-clad clipboard person trying to harpoon you on your way to Pret. You might think you’re just there for your mates, but actually you’re supporting about 40,000 good causes at once. In a way, you’re basically giving to charity just by standing there. So yeah, clipboard man. Beat that.
4. There’s are ample opportunities for a nutritious picnic lunch
Cheering people on is pretty exhausting. I recommend the Official Supporters’ Lunch; a high energy, low cost meal consisting of 3 – 4 M&S gin-in-a-tins, a packet of salt and vinegar Hula Hoops and a Cadbury’s Caramel, all of which are available from the local convenience store next to Shadwell tube. Keep those energy levels up, you’ve got a long day ahead.
5. You get weirdly obsessed with tracking your mates on GPS
There’s something quite cathartic about seeing your friend’s biggest life achievement reduced to a small, human shaped icon moving around a map of London on your phone. This digital human scalextric is literally your only way of finding out where they are. It is your guide, your saviour, and literally the only chance you have of actually spotting your exhausted runner friend. It will also drain your battery, so bring a charger.
6. You don’t even have to go to all the really busy bits
If you want to stand a chance of spotting someone, don’t bother with Greenwich or the Mall. Instead, have a couple of extra hours in bed (you deserve it, you’re about to do the London Marathon!) and get yourself over to Shadwell. The crowds are a bit less crowdy, you’ll see the runners at mile 13 as they head east, then you can chill, do some cheering, drink your gin, and be ready to catch them again on the other side of the road post-Isle of Dogs at mile 23. They’ll be knackered, but you’ll be lightly drunk, pumped up on sugar, slightly red from the sun, and ready to offer those yells of encouragement they will, by that point, most definitely need.
Mile 23 is basically a scene from Dawn of the Dead.
7. You will cry at least eight times
Even if you’re not feeling particularly delicate, trust me. All it takes is one glimpse of a man with “running for mum” on his Cancer Research vest and you’ll be howling.
8. All marathon runners become extremely attractive
You’d think that the combination of breaking pain barriers, bleeding nips, blistered feet, hobbling gaits and sweaty faces would be the least hot thing ever. But happily, the opposite is true. If there’s one thing running a marathon does, it’s raise your sex appeal by 45.6%. Spectators: prepare to fall in love at least 300 times.
9. You will make friends* with the group of people next to you
The London Marathon puts everyone in a good mood. And everyone knows when Londoners are in a good mood and buoyed by just the right amount of gin and cheering, they want to chat. You will start talking to the people next to you, and you will help them find their dad / daughter / sister / mate on the marathon tracker app when their iPhone battery dies, and they will pass on their noise maker of choice when they leave for the day. On this day of endurance – standing up for five hours is no small task, guys – marathon supporter comradery is strong.
*It’s alright, you won’t have to see them again or anything.
10. You’ll have an excuse to get a taxi home afterwards
Allow a friend who just ran 26.8 miles to get the 341 bus back home? Not on my watch. You’re all getting a taxi, and that’s the end of it.
This year’s Virgin London Marathon is on Sunday 23rd April. If you’re running, good luck. And if you’re watching, have a bath ready for when you get home. You’ll be exhausted.
There are those who plan ahead, and those for whom the mere suggestion of arranging something three months in advance is enough to send them swan diving into the nearest bin.
It will surprise no one to hear that I fall into the latter category. Some people get nervous if they’ve got nothing in the diary for the next few weeks. I get nervous when someone asks what I’m doing at the weekend.
On Thursday.
But it’s time to admit that I’m destined to be in the minority on this particular approach to life. For I am in my 30s, which means this “let’s pop something in the diary for 6 weeks’ time” is already becoming an inevitable fact of life.
So if, like me, you’re still clinging on to your unplanned life, then there is a city made just for you. Because good news: London hates planning ahead too.
I give you:
The Case Against Planning Ahead in London
#1: London gives you 3 million different ways of getting to work, depending on the weather
Dear everyone living in Zones 1- 3. Is it not the case that you’ve got about five different ways you could potentially commute to and from work? You’ll have your favourite, we’ve all got our favourite. But depending on whether it’s raining, shining, or striking, you could: walk, cycle, get three buses, or two tubes, or nip on the Overground. Sod it, some of you could probably even get a boat. See? Daily options. Pre 10am. No planning required. And if you’ve got a travel card, it’s basically free*.
#2: London runs on Uber, aka unbookable cabs
Uber was built for a city that does not plan ahead. It is the “sod it, alright then” of transport. Plus, Uber is also basically free*, until you check your credit card statement at the end of the month and email them saying SOMEONE HAS USED MY UBER ACCOUNT! I DID NOT TAKE A £46 CAB ACROSS LONDON VIA ALI BABA KEBAB SHOP ON STOKE NEWINGTON HIGH STREET AT 4.30AM ON A MONDAY, and they gently remind you that in all likelihood, you probably did.
#3: “I can’t, I’m driving” said no Londoner, ever
No one who works in London commutes by car except for Alan Sugar, and he’s part cyborg. For everyone else, after work drinks are pretty much a certified given, because no one’s got the “Oh, can’t, I’m driving” excuse everyone outside of London uses to escape their colleagues after working hours. In fact, if your colleague refuses to drink with you on the basis of having their car at the station and they don’t live in Kent, you should probably start taking it personally.
#4: Any restaurant worth eating in cannot be booked in advance
You: Can I book a table for three for next Thursday, please?
Dishoom, Polpo, On the Bao, anywhere good:No, you can’t
The end.
#5: Londoners are flaky bastards
In other words, London life moves quickly, and plans change. A lot. All the time. It’s like yeah, you’ve got plans, but then you’ve Gone For A Quick One™ after work and now you’re on pint number five, and your Whatsapp’s blowing up with what time you want to meet later?, but you can’t get signal or remember the name of that band, and, well, your mate wanted to go more than you did anyway, and Citymapper says Kentish Town’s 36 minutes away and it’s raining, so maybe you won’t go and they can just find someone else to…
#6: …Take these unwanted gig tickets
Seriously, if there’s a huge gig you are desperate to go to, your best chance of getting a ticket is categorically not at 10am on a Friday morning in the SeeTickets automated queue of doom. Because the average gig dropout rate in London is 76.8%, you can pretty much always find tickets the day before, or outside the venue on the night. Case in point: my housemate’s colleague, who had four tickets for Paul Simon’s concert at the Royal Albert Hall in need of a loving home last week. Thank you, me please, and yes, you may Call Me Al.
And finally,
#7: PLANNING AHEAD DOES NOT INCREASE THE CHANCES OF PLANS ACTUALLY GOING AHEAD
Ultimately, my real problem with planning ahead doesn’t just come down to a stubborn refusal to accept the limitations of adult responsibilities. It’s because planning ahead rarely increases the chance of the plans actually happening. As we’ve established, everyone in London is Very Busy. So it’s well documented that A Massive Night Out planned two months in advance usually coincides with onsets of feeling a bit coldy so I’ll give it a miss, also I think I’m getting a sore throat, instances of being a bit too tired tonight, or something’s come up, and sorry I’m working late, and oh god- is that tonight, we arranged it so long ago I forgot.
But remember, every cloud: at least you won’t have to cancel the table.
Get one post like this, one thing to ready, one thing to watch, and whatever nice thing I’ve seen that week.
