Londoners: The Days and Nights of London Now--As Told by Those Who Love It, Hate It, Live It, Left It, and Long for It

by Craig Taylor

There were half-opened doors everywhere in London, and some days I saw glimpses into the clubs of St. James’s Square, or I saw the paintings on the wall of the Garrick, or the smoke hanging above the pool tables in the old Fehnerbace Social Club in Dalston. There were so many half-opened doors, but I was never going to be enough people, I was never going to be lithe enough to fit through every single one.

There’s nothing like wandering around a city you’ve already left to define an internal change. It feels different. You feel different: defiant, bold, victorious.

You have to look at how you can manage London, not plan it. How you can treat it, if you like, as an exercise in gardening, look at which plants are thriving and which aren’t. Weed out new plants and try new species, encourage those that are doing well. Sometimes try to corral them so they don’t do a Japanese knotweed and take over the whole garden. But at the same time recognize the local climate and ecology and work with it rather than against it.

Maybe I’ve turned into one of those Northern clichés like, “Ooh, that London, everyone’s grasping down there and everyone’s in on the rat race.” But you know, if we’re watching the telly at home in Newcastle and the news comes on, quite often there’s a reporter stood in front of Tower Bridge in London, and I think, “God, I lived there.”

Possibility is the problem, when everything presents an opportunity. There’s a possibility within everything. Living like that is horrible, I think, because how are you ever going to be happy? You’re not, you’re just not. Because you’re always going to be considering the other options.