No, I wasn't born in London. No, I didn't grow up here but arrived fully formed, though not quite the rotund size of today, at the age of 23; I was chasing my particular rainbow, one I never managed to reach, but that is another story for another time. Somewhere along the way I fell in love with this city, for better or for worse, and have loved it passionately ever since , even during the years of living away, elsewhere, of only being part of it for days or weeks at a time.
What is it about London that draws people from all over the UK but also from abroad? What makes us so want to be here?
One of the answers, made clear this week with the terrorist incident in Westminster, is London's calm response to tragedy, the absence of hysteria and knee-jerk reactions. London and Londoners, long used to being a target of some disaffected soul or other whether with religious, colonial or political gripes, are largely unflappable, calm and determined. This has been the same as long as I can remember, from the IRA bombs of the seventies and eighties to the misanthropic deeds against people who were simply different. The feeling is : We are Londoners, we are not afraid, we will not be cowed, but will live our life even if you do your worst. I admire that, and share it to the core.
I can, of course, wax lyrical about London's beauty, its lovely buildings and gorgeous parks, but these tell an incomplete and misleading story, for they largely depict one side; a more affluent, genteel city. But London is human, flawed, imperfect, with great swathes of boring housing or intense ugliness hiding away from the centre, away from the prying visitor's eyes. And it is the humanity within the ugliness that is another great aspect of this city, that is to be found in all sorts of unexpected places, in neighbourhoods and communities all around the place, rich and poor. This is a big, cold city, of course it is, but scratch the surface and there's warmth to be found. Not obvious, gushing and temporary warmth, more real than that, warmth that needs to be earned and cherished, and appreciated.
For anyone who knew London in the sixties or seventies, the current abundance of great food in all shapes and sizes will come as a massive shock - in the seventies Golden Egg or Wimpy bars were, for the average person, the almost exotic, gourmet highlights! Yet today the food in London is second to none for all, from street food all the way up to Michelin-starred restaurants, unmatched for variety and sheer quality anywhere in the world. This is a spectacular transformation and another reason to appreciate our city - good food. There is a catch, though: success has brought higher prices, as the property boom has fueled rent increases (+ rates) and Brexit (due to the devaluation of the pound) is adding to the cost of all imported foods & wines, making eating and drinking more and more expensive.
History is almost everywhere you look in London, all around you, in many forms. You can feel its effect on the city, the power it exerts, yet it does not hold London back but blends in with the new and propels it forward. In the best alliances of old and new the effect is spell-binding, magnificent, rarely twee, which is why so many of the new developments seeking to internationalise it are misplaced and awkward - in my opinion they should be limited and regulated. London carries its historic burden well and makes it part of everyday living, so it becomes inclusive and familiar, seducing you into living with the past as a friend, embracing it and, in the process, becoming a Londoner.
That most of us love our adopted city is a given, perhaps not always in the same way or for all the same reasons; this does not mean that we are blind to its faults or drawbacks - no real Londoner ever is. In a calm and measured way we seek to right the wrongs, improve life for all where possible, and want to try and keep London as the special place that it is, protecting the past and local character as a living, evolving thing. For London was rarely static, as a quick glance at its history will show you, but a dynamic entity constantly absorbing incomers and making them its own. Not all were necessarily good people, but enough were, so that most made a positive contribution over the course of their lifetimes to their adopted home city.
This clumsily assembled collection of words is my homage to the special city I call home: London, I salute you, respect you, cherish all that is special about you, and am honoured to be considered one of yours, a Londoner, unafraid, proud.
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