Nearly Spring blah blah. Knackered blah blah.
I’m fully relocated.
The city is behind me, I’m now happily set up between Primrose Hill and the Round House. It feels positively village like and it being so lovely has taken the sting out of leaving my beloved City of London.
People in the streets around my new location are largely, either walking a dog to or from the hill, or, are heading to or from Camden Market. The atmosphere is laid back. Laid back if you discount the old punk who hangs out at Camden Lock bridge threatening to shoot everyone. Luckily he has no gun. He might be mates with the mohicanned gent who also frequents the bridge during business hours holding a ‘help a punk get drunk’ sign, but it’s hard to tell.
I try very hard not to be irritated by those people unable or disinclined to adhere to pavement etiquette niceties. After all most folks mooching about the market are tourists who wander willy nilly, changing direction suddenly for a closer view of a bit of London centric tat.
I still find it difficult to quell my direction of travel induced irritation in public transport situations. I calm myself by considering that some people can’t read the signs, can’t see the signs or can’t understand the signs for some other reason related to linguistics, lack of brain or will. In Stratford the powers that be have very helpfully painted enormous yellow arrows on the floor pointing in the correct direction of foot traffic.
What sighted person can’t read a big yellow arrow?
Far too many, that’s who.
Just keep left!
Alternatively, to avoid pedestrian crashes and clashes, and ungainly semi dance moves, I propose the introduction of a London wide signalling protocol. Hand signals perhaps or flashing lights integrated into EarPods. Obviously the idea needs fine tuning. The mayor, apple, and everyone entering London needs to get onboard too.
It’s true, it’s hopeless.
Unconsciously I might be hoping that extensive consideration of this notion will exhaust me and I’ll no longer care.
Walk where you like.
Peace.
