Just a quick note to let you all know that I am in France at the moment and will resume posting from thursday onwards. Check back after that for more regular posts! With that I’ll leave all your Londoner’s in the rain I hear that you are happily experiencing! Summers In London aye?

When you come from London you begin to enjoy hating particular things. I am not sure if this is because living in such a big city that is often depersonalised makes you bitter or, if it is because you have to enjoy hating the bad aspects of the city as a coping strategy.

British people as a race are renowned for complaining, moaning and grumbling, but I wonder, do Londoners moan even more? I do find when I am abroad or even further north of the country, people appear to be more relaxed.

Therefore, in reaction to this I have decided to write a three part series of things that I love to hate about London. I might follow this with a three part series of things that I hate to love about London too. Here is the first installment.

Street language. I often overhear kids on the street or public transport talking in dialects that are almost impossible for me to decipher. For example, a typical youth might say something along the lines of, ” Yo, what’s up blood, I met this Tracy the otha night innit and she was a bare freak.” To which his mate might reply, “Broccoli man, broccoli!” And shake his hand.

Now, I have no idea what this means, but I do enjoy complaining about the ruination of the English language with friends and family.

What did he mean by broccoli? I have been trying to work this out for weeks. The anomaly challenges me, yet frustrates me beyond all healthy thought. I often enjoy doing my own street talk impressions and even try to make up my own street phrases. In contrast however, I hate how kids don’t seem to be able to speak, let alone write. I wonder if we are gradually disintegrating into the world that George Orwell predicted in his novel ‘1984,’ where words are literally scraped from dictionaries and general use and replaced with ‘Newspeak.’

Ok, perhaps I’m being paranoid, but I guess what my biggest question is, does the street talk trend only happens in London and big cities and will we all one day be speaking in street talk through the natural evolution of the English language? I find this debate both strangely exciting and ultimately terrifying.

Anyways, bruv, nuff this banter, i’s gotta go see me crew innit an I am bare wasting me minutes here, aight. Broccoli man, broccoli. Nuff said.

Lots of things come in sevens; the days of the week, the seven deadly sins, the seven basic plots. God created the world in seven days. There were apparently seven brides and seven sisters. There is a seventh heaven. Snow White met seven Dwarfs. There are seven ages of man. It is even stated that there are Seven Wonders of the World – although I am sure there are many more. Oh yes, and once you start to really get fed up with your spouse; there is of course the seven year itch. OK, so you’ve got the picture, seven is a much-used number. So, when I was asked to write about, how to be a Londoner, I thought, why not use the number seven again. Tah dah!

Seven Steps to being a Londoner

Step one – come from any city, town or village in the world.

Step two – be prepared to be either very rich or more likely very poor.

Step three – get used to getting lost in crowds, on trains, in back alleys and on one way driving systems.

Step four – become accustomed to the easy life; e.g. expect twenty-four hour access to ALL services. The downfalls of this will become apparent to you when on holiday you discover that pubs stop serving food at 2:30pm and it becomes a crisis!

Step five – lose all empathy, you’ve seen far too many stories on London news to even flinch now.

Step six – become a master of complaining.

Step seven – understand that no matter how much you complain, swear or hate London, you WILL, keep coming back for more.

So there we have it, how to be a Londoner in seven easy steps, very interesting. However, not as interesting as the most exciting number seven fact that I found out whilst researching this blog entry. In December 2006, a hunter from Wisconsin ran over and killed a seven-legged hermaphroditic deer. He was later recorded saying “It’s a pretty weird deer,” later adding: “It was tasty.” – They say in London anything is possible, but I personally doubt I’ll ever run into a seven legged deer, let alone eat one.

I was interested to see today, news of a London Underground driver who drove his train the wrong way up the track, almost resulting in a head on collision with another train. We are always reading some news or other about London Underground – most of it bad. There are loads of irritating things about London Underground; the morbid heat, the way you are packed onto trains like an eat-as-much-as-you-like dinner plate, the mad people that always seem to sit next to you, bone crippling prices, worry of strikes, bombs and stupid drivers that don’t know their left from their right.

Nevertheless, there are aspects of London Underground that are great. It is a perfect setting in which to read and I love how I have the overwhelming sense of being alone in my mind, whilst being surrounded by dozens of strangers of all religions, cultures, passions and opinions. I like to observe on the underground. I like to people watch and ask questions like – who is he? What is her job? Why is she wearing that? Why is he so miserable? I make up the answers in my head, which is fun. It’s also the ideal place to listen in on people’s conversations. Most are moaning or looking forward to the weekend or a holiday, others are talking in dialects, which I don’t understand, but I am more intrigued by these folks than I am of those who speak in my own tongue.

I do a lot of writing on the underground. I find it inspiring. I have random thoughts and ideas for novels or poems, sometimes I can’t contain myself and I begin writing then and there. I never get on a train without a pen and pad – it’s like going on a treasure hunt without a spade to dig up the jewels that you might discover.

Perhaps one of the most interesting things about train journeys for me is looking out the windows – something most people never do. I recently spent a whole journey peering out of the window, ignoring my friend and jotting down my discoveries; secret staircases, run down factories, hidden alleyways, little pieces of life forgotten, with so many stories to tell. People think I’m mad, but I don’t care because I could be doing what most do on the underground, I could be staring into space and wishing I wasn’t there – what a waste of time that would be! I do empathise though, not everyone has the creative curiosity as I do, and I’m sure if I were them I’d be moaning to myself too.

However, I can’t help wondering how many people do this beyond their train journeys. How many people walk around in London with their eyes metaphorically shut? How many people’s eyes are clouded so much by negativity that they have forgotten to look for treasure? I hope not many, but I suspect otherwise.

Finding yourself lost in a city that you are supposed to come from is normally embarrassing. Stumbling upon a hidden community and realising that you have to hold your bag tight to your hip, even though moments before you were in one of the richest streets in the world, should be terrifying. Stumbling into a shop hurriedly because you’re panicking and in need of a cigarette, even though you’ve given up smoking, should be alarming. Bumping into a sweaty man who honestly believes that he can grab you off the street and sweet talk you toward the pub for a drink and maybe more after, should be distressing. All these things and more – should all worry the pants off most people. But to me, it’s all totally normal. I live in London.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve got lost here, been blatantly mentally undressed by a moron or found myself in a strange place that could potentially end terribly. Today was no different. But, on the up side, i did get to go shopping in some enormous bookshops. The possibility here is endless. I can buy almost any book in print here. However, when i say possibility, i don’t just mean positive possibility, i mean both the positive and the negative. I wonder, which out weighs the other? This is a question i doubt i will ever have the answer to.

This city runs through my veins like a passionate love affair; sometimes it bubbles and when it’s bubbling well, i can barely contain my euphoria as i feel my heart beating so fast that the beats seem to merge into one long thud. Other times my blood runs cold and i am detached and cold and foraging in the dark for answers.

I guess London (for me) is so interesting because in some ways it reflects life. It has its own personality. It has voice. Sometimes it even seems to have feelings and just like yourself, it is extremely hard to get away from.