I emerge into a sunny street scene, there are many people, black, white, brown, yellow, all bustling with unknown purpose. Bright coloured shop facades watched over by authoritarian architecture brim with all manner of goods and people. Cafes abound and are well patronised by the urban set. Could be any major city in the world, except there is a conservativeness, tradition and restraint evident in each direction.
I am in London.
A city of great history. The repository of the vast British Empire of old. Its Military underpinnings evident in its statues and monuments. The stoic never give in attitude of its people and long entrenched social strata are betrayed by its outward appearance no matter which street or park I wander. Whilst it is enchantingly manicured, the city reeks of omniscient power, obvious is its military heritage and colonial achievements. Imposing is a word which springs to mind whilst sitting on the banks of the Serpentine watching its human ebb.
Its people are a curious mix. From centuries of conquest, the streets flow with the conquered of all colours and demeanour. Its original denizens range from the educated gentrified upper and middle classes to the under world like average working man, all stratified, all bearing different badges of their societal rank.
Three tribes become obvious
The tops of the trees are populated with a well mannered and quiet spoken group, who are unfailingly polite and gracious in demeanour both appearance wise and actual. The dress code is conservative, yet conversations are politically metro. Quite an obvious disparity considering the avant guard nature of the society in popular (especially music) culture and its proximity to the haute fashion worlds a simple channel crossing away. And yet, everyone looks like they aspire to be an old aunt or a cardigan clad uncle. The High Street fashion windows reflect an old maiden outlook, slightly sterile, definitely nothing riske.
It's when you interact with this group that you realise the connection between the words polite and political. The intrigue of the court comes to the fore, never outwardly expressed yet always behind the smile and polite nods. One feels as though speaking in a straight line would expose one's lack of educated gentility, standing one apart from the ruling classes. And so friendly banter seems to take on a circular bureaucracy after which the non astute player (me) is left to ponder and strain at the limits of perception.
This group once (maybe still does) ruled the world. And yet, they are so self sufficient as only an island country can be, that I am left to wonder why they ever bothered to leave for foreign shores.
Maybe the weather?
I land in great sunshine and wander and photograph the streets in what can only be described as a glorious climate. Two days later I am wet, shivering and now have a full understanding of the term "a bitter wind blows".
Maybe the food?
Outside of the pub roasts and fish and chips, there is nothing, repeat nothing of consequence to offer world cuisine. Maybe all the conquering over the centuries was a crusade for spice.
The second grouping of the classes is most obvious at the "football match". Cages separate each teams supporters. Yes cages, to prevent violence during the game. It is chilling to watch one race of people divided only by a bus line hurl the most foul abuse at each other over a game of football. Lucky the cages are in place.
The violence then overflows to the many pubs and streets around the original arena, causing large numbers of Police to be in attendance in full riot gear.
And these are not testosterone over dosed kids gone errant making all the noise, but men and women of all ages. Bewilderment as to why is an understatement from my end.
Maybe this was a more true reason why the English have been involved in most of the intra planetary wars, I mean, what exactly should one do with these people? Unleash them on someone else's football team of course. And if said intended war partner was "sans" a football team then is this not just cause for a good conquering?
Group three is invisible to the average Londoner. When I point them out, the average Londoner replies politely with an "oh I never noticed". Indeed.
To me this group stands out for two reasons.
First thing I notice is Chinese, Indian and African people whom I have met in their home countries, speaking to me in broad cockney (London) accents. At first I try not to giggle as its really not congruent. A bit like me speaking in a cockney accent, its all too theatrical.
The second reason I notice them is perhaps the most bewildering. They are happy. They smile and say hi and seem to have all of the good food and best fashion sense.
And yet they are ruled by the court intrigue brigade and rash violent lager louts are ever hovering. They are still the most socially happy grouping despite not having football teams at home and dominate the streets of central London on any weekend. This is where London gets it colour and vibrance as a city.
Despite the bleak and powerful outreach of the English exterior, the streets are filled with trappings of empire in the form of slick and red colourful Chinese restaurants, Indian take aways and wonderful African art in dance and music leaving one to wonder who conquered who?
For all who aspire to a taste of tradition served with a dash of the fruits of empire, London is THE place.
Avoid all the chicken shops and make sure you take an umbrella though.
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