Living in a Restive City

To all my readers resident in England, and those resident elsewhere, I’m sure it has not gone unnoticed just how… restive London has become recently.

Not just the student protests, looking out of the windows at work snidely for wiley young people on the run up Regents. St. again. I was walking down Piccadilly two weeks ago and there was a climate protest there, of mainly 30s ish hippies and older with their children and some Hare Krishnas bringing up the rear. In the cold rain, almost sleeting. There were still six riot vans behind them, which was embarrassingly amusing as simultaneous to this ‘the students’ were busy shutting and looting the Oxford Street Topshop.

Since then there have been more kettles and more actual riots. One evening after I left work I was on my way to Charing Cross and I walked past the remains of a kettle. Just 20 people standing, huddled almost, in temperatures below freezing, for at least the 30 minutes I was stood watching them. They weren’t going to hurt any one, why were they held?


And then the actual riot on December 9th. I decided not to attend this out of a bad intuitive feeling and I’m glad I heeded it. The rioters achieved nothing positive whatsoever unless you believe that any publicity is good publicity.

But then there are other demonstrations. Last sunday in the mid afternoon, Trafalgar Square was filled with Santas singing something indiscernable and I still don’t know why!

Don’t get me started on the tube strikes either…

However, I think the ultimate point that these last few months of almost weekly disruption and unrest have demonstrated the resilience of Londoners to disruption caused by other people (with the possible exception of tube strikes).
Which makes it all the sillier really, that as I saw the snow fall outside my window earlier today, I realised how daft it was that while nature is an awesome force, this kind of snow isn’t. So why do all the trains have to die!


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