Tag: On the tube

How to Be Alone in London (Despite the 8,173,941 Other People)

It’s physically impossible to be alone in London.

Not “alone” as in oh, I feel so ALONE – haha! no! You’ll always have that.

I mean you’ll never find yourself lacking in a defined amount of space or time that is amazingly, gloriously, joyously, incredibly, brilliantly lacking in other human beings.

Because in London, other human beings are everywhere.

So instead you have to make do with finding little areas of the city where it feels like you’re alone, and then spend a vast amount of time imagining that happy day when London resembles the beginning scenes from 28 Days Later.

(Minus the whole everyone’s dead in the aftermath of a terrifying killer virus apocalypse bit.)

(Obviously.)

Finding a bit of space in London is reaaallly difficult.

In deciding to live here, you essentially gave up all rights to your personal space between the hours of…well… all the hours.

For starters, if you’re 20-50 something and single, you’ll probably have to houseshare with at least 58 other people in order to afford a place to live.

But even when your housemates are out, the flat’s empty and it’s just you, a packet of Monster Munch and back-to-back episodes of Dinner Date for company, you’ll still find yourself surrounded.

That’s because every living space in London is actually eight houses stacked on top of each other, which means your life will be forever soundtracked by the click-slam of your building’s communal front door, a patter of footsteps above, below, and either side of you, and snippets of distant, drunken, passing conversations punctuating the day and night.

Naturally, this won’t apply if you live in Hampstead, Knightsbridge or one of those posh new developments along the Thames, because in that case your neighbours will all be in Russia.

Ah, London housing. Happy days.

Alone together in the park

But although it’s impossible to be alone, it’s also really easy to be on your own.

By this I mean if you want to spend the day rolling solo, bothering no one and having no one bother you, then London’s pretty much the best place to do it.

One of my favourite weekend things is seeing a film upstairs at the Prince Charles, because on a Sunday it’s always half full with other people who’ve pretty much just hung a “do not disturb” sign around their neck prior to leaving the house, too.

Likewise, London’s bookshops are always pretty busy; they’re the only places where you can legitimately loiter, talking to no one, gazing at shelves, or sitting around on the floor for hours on end without raising any suspicions.

Eating alone isn’t even a big deal now either.

The whole no reservations, communal seating or sit-at-the-bar malarky means you’ll probably even get to consume actual food on an actual chair without having to eat your own actual fist in a two hour long queue first, which definitely wouldn’t happen if you turned up at any remotely popular restaurant in Soho with mates.

My point is, we’re all in the same boat. Or tube carriage. Whatever.

London always gets called out for the fact that no one talks on the tube, aside from sporadic tuts, sighs and calls of “MOVE DOWN, YOU BASTARDS”.

And perhaps it’s a sign you’ve lived here too long when you can’t come up with one single reason why that might be a bad thing.

But it’s not like taking public transport is an active choice for most of us; we don’t wake up and wonder whether we’ll drive into work today instead.

Our silent tubes are more an implicit agreement: it gives fellow Londoners a bit of space in a city where we have none.

So the next time you want a bit of time to yourself, rest assured. You might be surrounded by other humans, the bus will be packed and the museum will be too.

But don’t worry.

For non-talky down time, simply go outside and walk around with everyone else. The feeling will be brilliantly mutual.

5th May 2015
There’s Loads of Dogs on Hampstead Heath. Loads.

Last Sunday I went to Hampstead Heath for a walk.

Despite what a lot of people will have you believe, there’s actually no point in going to Hampstead Heath unless you mega like dogs.

Either that or you should probably own a dog, or want to talk to dog owners about their dogs, or want your dog to meet someone else’s dog so you can say how alike they look then watch them cavort and tumble and nod with feeling when one of them leaps into a pile of fox poo, which’ll definitely happen because they’re dogs and that’s the canine equivalent of going to Alton Towers.

Your dog looks like my dog

You could theoretically go to Hampstead Heath without wanting to do any of those things.

But why would you want to?

As the non-dog owning folk who once attempted to eat a hearty picnic spread in front of my Labradors once discovered (while I half-heartedly yelled “Charlie, ELLIE, no, leave it, oh…bugger. SORRRRRYYYYY” across the field)… it’s just not worth it.

My dog will probably eat your picnic. Sorry.

I know what you’re thinking.

Even if you didn’t like dogs, you could still go for the views, yeah? Eat some cake at Kenwood House? Do a nice walk? Parliament Hill?

What’s that, kites? You’ve got a new kite? Want to feel like you’re in the countryside, in London?

Let me make this clear.

I’m warning you. There’s no escaping them.

The hound-shaped influx starts before you even get there, especially if you go to Hampstead by Overground or Tube.

Either way, you’re pretty much guaranteed to see some sort of wolf derivative, or at the very least a chihuahua that looks suspiciously like its owners somewhere along the way.

This time on the Northern Line, I encountered a tiny small little bear.

And by encountered, I mean located and zoned in on the empty seat beside her like a ravenous hawk, because there is nothing better than sitting next to a dog on the tube.

But that’s just the warm up.

As soon as you leave the tube station at Hampstead, they’re everywhere.

Seriously, you can’t move for dogs in this part of London.

I think this is because everyone has enough money to buy big houses – proper ones with stairs (stairs!) and stuff – and therefore can easily accommodate Proper Sized Dogs into their life plan.

You don’t really get that in Dalston, where life plans generally stop at “should I eat eggs for breakfast today”.

It’s also a good place to go on Sunday if you have a hangover.

All the animals running around will appease the anxious, vulnerable, life-questioning feeling of dread you’re currently experiencing, but if that doesn’t work then the Heath is also conveniently surrounded by loads of really, really good pubs.

And guess what?

Most of those have loads of dogs in too.

Some pubs quite frankly go above and beyond the call of duty, like the Spaniard’s Inn.

This pub is pretty well known for loads of reasons, Dickens and Keats and stuff, but its most notable feature is allowing your dog to have a shower before dinner.

Anyway this time we went to the Flask in Hampstead, and took Buster with us.

Buster is my friend Emily’s dog and he’s basically well cool.

Case in point: this was his face when we told him that we’d managed to book a table in the one bit of the pub where dogs weren’t allowed, which meant he would have to sit on one side of the threshold (dark wood), while we consumed vast quantities of red wine and beef on the other (light wood).

In case you can’t read dog expressions, this one is “sod that.”

All in all, going to Hampstead Heath on a Sunday is an excellent idea.

But only if you like dogs.

If you don’t, then honestly. It’s Sunday. What are you thinking? Just stay in bed.

8th March 2015
What I Think About Taking Photos of People on the Tube

This week’s Problem On The Internet is all about stranger shaming.

At the centre of the debate is a Facebook group where users can post photos of women eating on the tube. It invites comments from the 19,000+ members as long as they “do not swear, do not abuse, affront, aggrieve, bad-mouth, blaspheme, call names, curse, disgrace, dishonour, disrespect, insult, mock, molest, offend, outrage, quip, ridicule, smear, sneer, taunt or tease.”

Google it if you like. I’ll wait here.

Ok?

And we’re back in the room.

Now, it’s long been noted that Facebook user comments are second only to YouTube user comments in their propensity to make you want to bang your face repeatedly into the nearest wall.

Numerous studies have shown that if you give people a Facebook profile, a keyboard and space to comment, generally even the most intelligent person will lose their ability to capitalise words, use spacing, master punctuation, utilise common sense, or check grammar without offending at least three people and writing the word “lol” in the process.

Myself included.

That’s just how Facebook rolls.

So no matter the original intentions behind your collection of publicly, surreptitiously taken images of women eating food on the tube – whether it’s merely observational, genuine curiosity, an “art movement”, your friends’ pub conversation gone mainstream, or an exercise in misogynistic stranger shaming – if you’re inviting comments, and those words make a person feel cowed, bullied or uncomfortable, then clearly there’s a problem.

And that problem will probably end up being discussed and argued about by the media.

Eventually, your “art movement” will be labelled a “bizarre craze” and reported in papers around the world, as if taking photos of women eating on the tube is something that People Do in London, instead of being something that 19,000 People Do on Facebook.

There are many blogs and feeds that document life on the tube without being creepy.

The brilliant People on the Tube, my long standing favourite Dogs on Trains, and of course Tube Crush to name but three.

And, yes this blog has, on occasion, featured people (but mostly dogs) that I’ve found amusing or interesting, even annoying on my commuting travels – the above image is taken from the She Loves London Facebook page – but usually without showing faces and only ever to demonstrate a wider point which, I hope, hasn’t to date offended, identified or pinpointed one individual person.

(That said, it’s something I’ll be even more conscious of in the future.)

But WWEOTT mainly makes me and a lot of other people uncomfortable for the same reason a female version of Tube Crush would – because reactions to photographs of women on the internet are generally laden with more sinister undertones than that of men.

Just ask the Mail Online.

That said…

…let’s also consider that just over the road in Tumblr-land there’s a blog entitled “Men Taking Up Too Much Room on the Train”, where, more often than not, the focus of the photo is a bloke’s crotch (yup, see above) – which, arguably, is just as weird as showing women’s faces, and often shows the mens’ faces too.

Anyway. Wherever you stand on the issue, next week two rebel Facebook groups (including the bluntly named, “Women who eat wherever the f*ck they want”) are hosting a lunch party on the Circle line to, err, encourage women to eat on the tube.

Or, if like me you just think that anyone eating on the tube – male or female – should be banished to the fiery pits of the Northern Line, then you might want to opt for the more gender neutral approach:

Either way, I think the last words on the subject should be given to this article on the Londonist – as I can think of no better way to say it, and I agree wholeheartedly with the final sentiment:

Amen. But photos of dogs. That’s ok, right?

8th April 2014