The London I’ve experienced since after Christmas has heartened and endeared me to the city unexpectedly, as the dust, and possibly snow, settles over the festive period – London has been unified. Rarely does it happen that a metropolis can be united together with a single thought. Yet truly these Tube strikes clearly irked an entire city, tube workers alike.
Firstly I would like to tell about my first glimpse of what is possible in this sprawling behemoth.

I returned from Scotland for a couple of days between Christmas and New Year where I unfortunately had to work, I was expecting to hate my few lonely days in the capital but instead what I found, was not the same London I had left. Firstly, it was empty. I didn’t know Central London was as religious but apparently it is… Everyone seems to love Christ and Hanukkah. Everything closed, the streets quiet with barely any footfall or traffic. It was fabulous. This quiet ruminating empty London, waiting for its occupants to return or awaken from their temporary religious hibernation ended up being quite a thrill. The buildings were the real company, and their charm and literally down to earth feel made welcome even though I was alone. They offered better, more polite, richer company than the majority of Londoners. If I am still here come Christmas next year, it will be the 27th, 28th and 29th I look forward to.

The second London, a passionate morning swirl of colour and frustrations, a giant school of tropical fish twisting and turning on unfamiliar pavements. All angered by the same thing – tube strikes. This rare glimpse of the subterranean inhabitants was another thrill for me, as suddenly the streets were alive with colour, age, belief, all of it, finally in Central London . This is what I singed up for. The collective frustration bubbled over frequently as heads tossed at bus times, eyes peered down tube entrances and rolled and people got in the way.
All of this suited me quite well, as I was in no rush. A damaged leg I have.

The last point is a slight deviation on the theme.

Did you know that the sound of a flying gaggle of geese overhead will make the same sound as a flying pelaton of expensive bikes. This is only true if the bikes are not being ridden by rich city workers who will inevitably ruin everything with obnoxious bile scalding your ears.

All of these positive vibes may seem unfamiliar with my regular reader, (#onereaderonthereg), but it may be a consequence of my work place. See my last entry to truly understand that situation.
I am one, of perhaps two, deeply cynical, sarcastic people in my workplace. I am surrounded by people who enjoy Katy Perry, and Usher. And. Chris. Brown.
The disingenuous me is generally poorly received and my sarcasm is lost. With my accent, I am still an unknown and generally probably disliked quantity among my co-workers. All this makes you consider sentiment and the meaning of things.
And truth to oneself and others. haha. Lol. Does it fuck.
I will not cater to fools. I shall not pander to those who are bought by travel marketing. Incidentally the most poisonous and insidious of all marketing. A point I have been trying to cram into any piece I’ve written of late but haven’t yet managed.
How many go-pro videos of attractive women in bikinis set to rubbish house music can be made before a kill switch is flicked in the earths core and we all blow up?
It should be illegal to pray on the aspirations of people as blatantly. You won’t look like these women on a beach, you won’t talk to these women on a beach, you won’t see pretty bubbles going over your face as you plunge into the sea as you’ll not be in fucking slow mo. And you’ll have your eyes closed. Idiot.
You deserve the swimmers ear.

The below haiku is my last word on the matter before the expose I will never probably write. It also applies to all the individuals who talk senselessly around me. That is perhaps where the juxtaposition lies, my co-workers genuinely aspire to sleep with girls #onthereg, and to #makebank. That true sentiment, unmasked and clearly misplaced worries me. I feel conceited in not caring but I know that I am ultimately correct. I’ve started to haver pish, haven’t I?

Rotten cyclists tire,
Of other cyclists who talk,
Of money and girls.

Fall.

MrHummels