Tag: spotted in London

  • 14 Things Every Londoner Knows Not To Do, Even In An Emergency

    There are things you know when you’ve lived in London for a bit.

    Not just the obvious stuff like standing on the right, walking as fast as humanly possible at all times, or forming orderly queues everywhere (unless you’re at a bus stop or waiting for the tube; in which case please form a restless, passive aggressive crowd instead).

    What I’m talking about are the unspoken things that you just don’t do – not because there’s signs or announcements or years of etiquette telling you not to – but because as a Londoner, you simply know this city better than everyone else.

    Put simply, you’re wise to it. They can’t fool you. Whatever it is, you already know it’s futile.

    So get ready to look smug, shake your head despairingly and roll your eyes. Because never would you ever…

    1. Change at Bank.

    Oh, Bank Station. Where all that separates you from your next train are 50 spiral staircases and an estimated ten miles of mind boggling, vaguely signposted tunnels to oblivion and maybe, possibly, at the very end of your sanity, a Central line platform.
    bank hungover

    2. Call Holborn or Bloomsbury “Midtown”.

    A while ago, they put up a load of orange flags, hired orange-clad power rangers and set about rebranding Holborn, St Giles and Bloomsbury into a fashionable, funky, rejuvenated orange coloured area called “Midtown.”

    Four years later, I can officially report that as a direct result of all these marketing efforts, the areas once known as Holborn, St. Giles and Bloomsbury are now known as… Holborn, St. Giles and Bloomsbury.

    Glad we’ve sorted that out then.

    *slow clap*

    Rangers in Midtown which is actually Holborn

    3. Feed the pigeons (/ squirrels / tube mice).

    I’m pretty sure London’s sizeable vermin wildlife population are doing ok without your discarded Pret-crumbs, and London’s human population can do without pigeons ambushing us in Soho Square on our lunchbreak. Thanks tho, save the whales ‘n’ that, peace. xx

    don't feed the pigeons

    4. Use the zebra crossing at Abbey Road.

    Less a zebra crossing, more a prolific no-go area for two reasons:

    – If you’re driving, you’ll be stuck for hours waiting for tourists to finish reenacting the Beatle’s famous album cover.

    – If you actually want to cross the road, there’s a high chance of getting hit by a car that can’t be bothered to stop for tourists reenacting the Beatle’s famous album cover. Spend five minutes watching the Crossing Cam and see for yourself.

    abbey road
    Abbey Road: no ordinary zebra crossing

    5. Shorten it to “Carnaby”.

    London’s re-branding departments strike again, this time trying to give an entire area behind Regent Street a collective term it doesn’t really require or need. What’s wrong with plain old “that street just off Carnaby Street near Miss Sixty”?

    carnaby
    Image: James Butler

    6. Walk between the Piccadilly and Jubilee lines at Green Park.

    Wars have been fought, lost, re-fought and won again in the time it takes to change lines at Green Park station.

    Instead, go with the advice of London transport geek Diamond Geezer, who says: “It’s probably quicker to ascend to the ticket hall and come back down via the main escalator instead.”

    It is also probably quicker to go to space, but your monthly travel card won’t cover that.

    changing at green park forever
    Green Park station, aka The Never Ending Story in tunnel form. Image: Matt Buck 

    7. Eat bagels in evening dress on Hackney Road.

    If you’ve walked past any new housing developments in east London recently, you might have seen billboards promoting activities that your average Londoner would never do.  I mean perhaps people eat bagels in evening wear in, like, Notting Hill, but in Hackney, this doesn’t really tally with the current vision of casually dressed hungover people in pyjamas eating kebabs at 10am on a Sunday. But hey, don’t let that reality get in the way of your terrible marketing campaign, Mettle and Poise.

    mettle and poise stupid
    wtf is she doing

     

    8. Spend the day staring at the inside of a hat.

    Again: people on Kingsland High Street don’t tend to spend much time gazing at the inside of their flatcaps, despite what Time Out might have you think. But with the arrival of these new £500k one-bed flats, clearly all that is set to change.

    staring at hats
    wtf is he doing

     

    9. Sit on the pavement on Kingsland Road.

    Seriously, are you nuts? Trust me, Dalston Curve, you don’t want to advertise this behaviour. Stand up, woman. You’ll get kebab on your coat.

    kingsland road billboard woman
    why is she sitting on the floor

     

    10. Queue for an escalator.

    Big shout out to TFL staff member Leon at Brixton tube station. He was on a one-man morning motivational mission to get commuters to walk down the one working escalator for the last seven months while disastrous queue-forming repairs were carried out. Your local community salutes you, sir.  tfl social shamer tube man brixton hero tube man brixton believe tube tweet brixton

    11. Ask people who don’t live in Battersea to come to Battersea.

    No one knows where it is, and no one can get there except for you. Abandon ship. journey to battersea

    12. Pay £75 for Secret Cinema 

    Look, no one’s saying you shouldn’t go to these excellent immersive cinematic events. You totally should. What I’m saying is for gods sake, let’s just make it a nice round £100 per person and be done with it. In other news, still tickets left, guys. star wars secret cinema

    13. Get involved with the “PR stunt of the day”

    “We’re building a rainbow out of television screens on the Southbank to celebrate National Banana Day and new shiny technology, we’d love you to be part of the magic! There’s something for everyone!”  pr-stunt-of-the-day

    And finally…

    14.  Stand on the top deck.

    Hell hath no fury like the “No standing on the UPPER DECK or STAIRS PLEASE” announcement. It’s a folly reserved for Tube Strike refugees and tourists. Although, as everyone knows, there is a way round it.

    no standing on upper deck

     

    So there we have it.

    If I’ve missed anything crucial, let me know. Otherwise, as you were, London. You may get on with your day.

  • French Bulldog Parties and Other Stuff You Find in Regent’s Park

    It is officially “park weather”.

    Park Weather is when London pretends to be summer for like a day.

    Park Weather means you leave the house even though it’s your official day of rest, only to find yourself sporadically whipped by gusts of wind that leave you shivering on the grass, wrapped in your portable tartan picnic blanket, looking longingly at the part of sky where the sun used to be because your bedroom window lied and it’s still absolutely bloody freezing.

    You know, Stupid Park Weather.

    regents park april
    Classic “park weather”

    All it takes is one hint of sunshine and we’re out.

    Lining the aisles of Tesco Metro clutching cans of gin-in-a-tin and a pack of Pringles, frantically yelling “SUN’S OUT, LET’S GO TO THE PARK, ASSEMBLE, ASSEMBLE” into our phones and wondering whether to wear a waterproof coat over all our ambitiously summer-like clothing.

    And so I found myself on a bench in Regent’s Park at the weekend, dropping location pins into a Whatsapp chat and awaiting the arrival of my mates Em (human) and Buster (dog), a bag of tubular supplies at my feet and the wind…

    Oh, the wind.

    one ear up dog
    Ear malfunction

    It was while I was considering the true meaning of the acronym BST when my phone rang, and a voice said:

    “Hey so I’m near where you are, but have just stumbled upon what appears to be a French Bulldog convention, and there’s about 50 dogs and their owners just standing about having a chat. Want to meet here instead?”

    …to which I replied “What yes where?” and within minutes, my Regent’s “Park Weather” Day Out had begun in the best way possible.

    With loads of French Bulldogs having a massive bulldog party.

    That’s right my friends, London’s population of Frenchies had gathered for their monthly en mass walk in Regent’s Park.

    There were loads of them. All in one place.

    Playing and stuff.

    It was…beautiful.

    bulldog party

    Obviously, at the time we didn’t know it was a regular monthly thing.

    To us it was just a huge, random gathering of exactly the same sort of dog, like a magical dream, so we just sort of stood around watching them for a while, a bit baffled, not really knowing what was going on and saying things like

    “what the hell”

    “I don’t understand”

    and

    “look that one’s wearing a stripy jumper”

    loads of bulldogs in the park

    Eventually we dragged ourselves away from the bulldogs.

    There were other things vying for my attention, such as the fact that Regent’s Park also seemed to be attracting a lot of people with wheels for feet.

    I’m not sure when it became ok to rollerblade again in public, but I saw one person doing it in Old Street the other day and then this, so it’s safe to say after years in 90s exile, wheelyfeeting around the place is quite possibly “back”.

    I wasn’t sure how to feel about this turn of events, but to be fair, at the time I was preoccupied with how the conversation went before this couple left the house that day.

    wheels for feet
    “No, you take the blades today. I’ll walk. Slowly. Away from you.”

    Another thing I noticed was some fairly ambiguous topiary.

    I’m assuming it’s someone’s job to be the Royal Parks Custodian of Foliage, which means someone is responsible for the fine feat of bushy engineering below.

    Say what you see folks, just say what you see.

    turd topiary

    But then came the surest sign of all that London Park Weather was in session. 

    A moment’s revered silence please, while we all stand back and commend this man for his choice of trousers.

    So pink.

    So Sunday.

    So very Park Weather.

    pink trousers

    Oh, Park Weather. We love you. Welcome back.

    Long may you continue, all the way until at least 6pm tomorrow.

  • To Make London Better We Should All Basically Write More Letters

    I like writing people letters.

    So at the beginning of this year I got hold of my mates’ addresses, bought a load of envelopes and stamps and decided to start sending them things in the post.

    I’m a bit rubbish with remembering birthdays, so usually it’d just be random cards saying hi, or thank you, or crappy Valentine’s Day from Oscar the Grouch; or congratulating them on not killing their first outdoor plant, but occasionally there’d be one to commemorate something really really important or a momentous life event.

    diary april

    Everyone likes getting post, but not everyone can be bothered to send it.

    The only stuff most of us get in the post now are letters from the Student Loan Company, or, as I like to call them, the Quarterly Statements of Disappointment, and council tax reminders, and phone bills charging you for the iPhone 5 you dropped down the toilet last year.

    Also, most people who live in London rent and move around a lot, so no one gets post because no one except your parents really knows where you’re living now, and to be honest, neither do we, most of the time.

    So although I sort of hoped to get the occasional letter back, mostly I just liked to think of mates coming home after a crap day at work, seeing an envelope with their name on it, and forgetting their nightmare commute for a minute – and maybe despairing a little bit at their friend’s lack of artistic card making skills*.

    *apologies to anyone who recently received my limited edition “you as a stickman drawn with a felt tip” series.

    letters left in london1

    And then this week I found Letters Left in London

    It’s a project started by an anonymous person who lives in London, who’s basically been writing lots of friendly letters to strangers in the city and leaving them around the place for people to find, which is a loads better way to spend your morning than scowling at people who annoy you on the tube.

    It’s nice, and it’s sweet, and sometimes that’s just what London needs.

    In their own words:

    I write notes, letters, little quotes, poems, etc and deposit them anonymously in public places for people to find, hopefully to bring a bit of warmth to people as they go about their day. Letters telling them how awesome they are, extracts from moving poems, messages of hope.

    letters left in london 2

    I sort of wish I’d thought of it. 

    Not only is it a nice thing to do for people you don’t know, but it’s also a better idea than sending letters to friends in the post because this way you don’t have to pay for stamps.

    On which note, thanks, Royal Mail, for making my nice idea a surprisingly expensive one. 

    Anyway, the Letters Left in London are all being posted here, which is good because unlike emails, written words don’t automatically save to your sent items, and you can also follow the project on Twitter.

    So go! Quick! Send your fellow Londoners stuff in envelopes*! Today! Your city dwelling friends need you.

    *They’d probably really appreciate money, but cards will do.