‘Between Oxford & London’ Part 1: The Trample
Metropolitan cities are infamous for their ‘hustle and bustle’ as we all noted in our GCSE English Language exams. I have lived in London my entire life, and so moving to another city for university as well as spending some time abroad has allowed me fresh perspective on some of the things that about London that I love, as well as the things that make me want to leave. In this series, I’ll be going over the things that I love & hate between Oxford, London, and the wider world. This article is all about London’s pace.
My first train back to London from Oxford during term landed at Paddington just before 9pm. The evening idleness had reduced my stress and prepared me to fall softly into sleep. When the train reached Paddington, I got my bag and stepped off of the train, Snoh Aalegra playing in my ears. What I proceeded to do was one of the most sinful things one could do as a Londoner.
I ambled.
amble
verb
walk or move at a slow, relaxed pace.
Quickly I was snapped out of my haze as the chorus of suitcases and knocking of heels on the ground made me feel like I had walked onto a human F1 track. It felt like those movie scenes where some extraterrestrial beast pops up and the extras start running away. The jump from LoFi zen to the anxious feeling that I had somewhere to be opened my eyes to how quickly Londoners move, and how it affects me.
It’s not like walking slowly was a newly developed characteristic to me; I’ve been a stroller for as long as I can remember, as my friends are too eager to point out. Especially so when I’m with other people, because you’ve gotta enjoy the conversation, right? Walking quickly and talking both require conscious effort, so trying to do both at the same time is a bit like going for dinner with someone and then shoving food down your gullet while you try to maintain a natural pace of conversation.
Ambling brings a level of peace with it. It’s nice to move slowly because the journey becomes less so a matter of A to B, but something enjoyable in its own right. You know those moments when you go through a park one day and look at a tree, and realise that it’s a tree? A tree? You start saying the word to yourself and wonder what it even means. That’s what walking slow is like a lot of the time. You can appreciate your surroundings. The smell of the grass or the laundromat as you sway past; the shimmer of concrete on the ground when it rains; the symphony of instruments combining in your earphones to produce some of your favourite music. The annoying conversation that the people in front of you are having. When you’re spending your time galloping around, it can be hard to find this momentary presence in our day-to-day lives.
Those moments of presence in our day cannot be understated in their importance. Why is it that you think British people love tea? Or Europeans, cigarettes? Or Americans, morning (filter, eugh) coffee? No doubt, enjoyment of the substances in them plays a big part. But the value isn’t purely instrumental. We also love these things — as Roy Hodgkinson points out in ‘How to Be Idle’ — because they give us breaks in our day where we can just pause for a minute. When sitting there and having your tea and coffee, there’s a sense of latency in our day; it’s an empowering use of our agency to take time out in the day just for ourselves. I don’t often see people smoking or drinking teas and coffees whilst mindlessly scrolling, unless in a really public setting where social anxiety might set in. Even then, it’s more common to see a person observing their surroundings, or engaged in conversation, because it feels weird to bring that stressful feeling of scrolling when you’re doing something so peaceful. So I’m going to go ahead and make the claim that tea, coffee, or a cigarette can be a modern form of daily meditation. Spiritually connecting with oneself, or others.
Part of the reason why Londoners are always speeding is because they have somewhere to be, and this rings true most in Central London. The area is mostly commercial so everyone moves like they are on company time. People rush to the places they have to be, deep in thought about what’s going on at whatever spot they’re about to pull up at. You can’t just meander around the area on a Saturday afternoon or Thursday evening, when others are spending their precious free time doing whatever it is that they have to do. If you’ve walked behind a slow group of tourists and got progressively more annoyed as they splay across the sidewalk, you know what I’m talking about. If you had nothing to do, then why didn’t you stay at home? Why pull yourself into the centre of the commotion, just to chill out. But this is a malignant culture, so these irritated questions seep out of the central into the suburbs. As Londoners, we feel we have to be busy no matter where we are. This is what city life often feels like.
Public transport is a great microcosm of this. First of all, when have you EVER seen people explore the public transport just for the sake of it? I feel bemused whilst writing this because the concept seems so ridiculous as a Londoner. But it shouldn’t. One of my little cousins used to love train rides. Whenever he was well-behaved, my uncle would take him for a train ride for a while. That’s something that would make sense when you see a child do it, but would never consider as an adult. I admit, the DLR does feel like Alton towers at times, but I’ve never once though “Yeah, good work today Leon, let’s go hop on the Met line”. But it is the oldest underground railway line in the world. Why not enjoy the train ride, or at least the more peaceful outdoor parts (I admit it makes the underground part a bit redundant but let me flex my general knowledge)? Why not take the overground system and ponder as you travel to some alien land (Wimbledon, Croydon, I’m looking at you)? I’m not trying to romanticise TfL here, but I am trying to point your attention to the fact that most of us have never considered taking public transport for fun, even though trains and buses like ours are marvelous to so many.
I’m not gonna act like I don’t rush to places, or spend so much time thinking (worrying) about what’s going on in my life that I can’t plod through the streets as if I have no meaning. That’s what old people seem to be doing though. All of the people I know who are over 80 that are still healthy go for leisurely walks every day. In my area, it is common to go through a park and see old couples moving at a snail’s pace, as you wonder how it is they’re still walking at all. I’m not saying it’s why they live to be old, but if a group of people who have spent so much time on this Earth all usually do one thing, then it’s useful to ask “why?”. It’s because that exercise is good, that peace is good, that vitamin D is good, that time in nature is good, that young couple that passes them is good, the fact that they can even still walk is good. Even kids enjoy running around for absolutely no reason. Taking transport too, as I pointed out earlier. Old people are one thing, but if both old people and kids are both doing something, you’ve got to wonder to yourself whether there’s some goodness there (maybe not shitting yourself, though). What old people and kids have in common to us inbetweeners is that they’re outside of the conditioning of life, and have either no perspective or such a great sense of perspective that they worry less about what they should be doing. You try giving a fuck after 85 years on Earth. Yet we heelstrike the ground like we’re trying to get mud out of our shoes because whatever we have done or haven’t done or need to do is so much more important than our peace.
Further, one of the best things you can do in London is get lost. I’ve been travelling into Central London more lately to explore. I pick a starting point, use google maps to get a rough orientation, and wonder around. Do you know how sick the feeling is to start by Aldgate and end up in Soho? You turn a corner and suddenly recognise where you are. Not only does it build a much richer understanding of the georaphy of London, you also get to discover so many more nooks and crannies. Like that street near Soho with the purple-ish lights where everyone likes to take pictures. Maybe it’s that little coffee shop that sits on top of a retail store. It might even just be an older looking street that has some different architecture. If you submit yourself to the city and just pay attention, what you can find by virtue of serendipity is boundless.
Many of us think it’s not possible to live in a metropolitan city and move slowly all the time. To that I say two things. Firstly, maybe that’s true, but no one’s telling you to never rush anywhere. Sometimes it helps to get from A to B as fast as possible so we can spend more time doing whatever it is that we want to do. What I’m saying is that we don’t need to rush all the time — especially when we don’t have somewhere to be. Especially given most of you, my wonderful readers, are students. Even for the older adults, though, that love to complain about how little time they have: we can always leave 10 minutes earlier and walk 10 minutes slower. In the long run in will pay dividends to your peace.
The second thing is about my recent experience of Paris. I went to visit in March for the first time and it was truly beautiful. Lots of things stood out about the place and people, but what struck me the most is how quiet and peaceful it was for a capital city. Of course I only saw the more touristy areas, and I don’t know if there was an event going on outside Paris that people were at, but that’s what it felt like at times (this was before the strikes, too). That 11am dreariness never really seemed to wear off, and despite the buses being equally as packed as they were in London at 5/6pm, there was one notable difference. In Paris there was a larger sense of patience. People were okay with the bus being packed and their space being crowded. People seemed okay with going to their destinations slowly. Even drivers on the roads were unmoved as other cars would completely cut them off, which is something you never see in London. The Parisians carried this sense of calm, that today was just like any other day, and you could feel it by their aura. Not like London, where today is always special compared to any other day and we don’t have the time to be dilly dallying. You can feel it in our aura, just as you can feel it in Paris. Maybe a Parisian would be tempted to disagree. The grass is always greener.
To be clear, this is not necessarily a manifesto for going on leisurely evening strolls, or riding public transport for the sake of it. They are solutions I’m suggesting as part of a wider manifesto against the constant rushing of Londoners. We don’t want to act like it, but most of us do have the time to dilly dally. So let’s make this practical. Go out for at least one day this week, and spend 30 minutes just wandering. Take the train to somewhere you have no business being (PLEASE go to Mornington Crescent on the Northern Line because I swear no one is from there). Don’t try to get anywhere in particular. If you see something that takes your fancy, be it a shop or a shrub, then enjoy it! It’s your privilege and luxury in life to do so. And next time you gotta be somewhere with someone, leave 10/20 minutes early and long out the walk a bit. Enjoy it. Appreciate the scenery. You deserve it. And you definitely deserve not to be rushed.
