Misplaced London Fear

As an outsider, or in my case, born and bred country bumpkin, you’re lead to believe two things about London: one, it’s where all the cool, successful people go, and two, if you go there you will be shot, stabbed or, if you’re lucky, suffer nowt but a cheeky pickpocket. The Big City is full of evil people: fact.

And so it’s with caution that I approach London. My expectations of the city have filled me with such deep cynicism that when I saw two teenage girls offering ‘free hugs’ I assumed they were just deceptively friendly muggers. After all, there must be some reason for their smiles – most people on the streets seem to be permanently grimacing, lost/stressed. It’s as if all Londoners were born permanently picturing their grandmother drowning kittens.

It’s this gloominess that makes my insides squirm when I step onto the tube. It’s not the hot, sweat-soaked air or the amplification of my lack of balance when it comes to holding onto a rail by two fingers. It’s not even being packed into a tin can, underground. No, it’s the social awkwardness of having to look anywhere but at the people surrounding you, just in case you make eye contact. You’re stuck with three choices: look out into the blackness, down at your shoes, or at the badly shaven armpit four inches in front of your face. What joy.

So when the opportunity came to visit London to see the boyfriend, without having to go to its hotspots (Camden? Not cool enough. Oxford Street? Not rich enough. Soho? Yeah, pull the other one) I was relieved to say the least. Sure, it meant three days on a boat, but how bad could it be?

I soon changed my mind. Horror stories of ‘the British Beirut’, a stretch of canal somewhere up north that was only open during daylight hours and was patrolled by guards. All this for good reason – boats had been shot at in the past. Team that with seeing nappies floating past in the water by Hampton Court and my enthusiasm was waning.

But then a different, more pleasant side of London emerged. Dying yellow grass gave way to vegetation and dragonflies. Glum commuter faces were replaced by the gentle smiles of fellow boaters. And you know what? It wasn’t just smiling. It was waving, manners, and casual, sunny conversation. Well-wishing, even. That’s a London I can get to grips with.

It’s not entirely detached from city life: lock keepers act like traffic wardens and there are times that you’re squeezing past boats like you would people in the street. But, city boys and girls, take a leaf out of their book: set aside 10 minutes every day to exercise those facial muscles. Try a smile. You might even enjoy it.

Image by DavidDennisPhotos.com courtesy of Flickr