An Ode to A City

I walk thro' each charter'd street,

Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.

London by William Blake

This morning someone smiled at me on the train. Genuinely, looked me full in the face and smiled. The woman (it had to be a woman - couldn't be a tall, dark, handsome man) just got on the train, brazenly took the seat opposite me and as I, the gentleman that I am, moved my feet to allow her room to put her legs she looked at me and smiled. SMILED. Does she not know this is London? We do not smile at each other on trains. We sit (or more likely stand), headphones tight on our ears, listening to music in order to block out the sounds of others, staring out of the window at the grey world moving past wishing we were anywhere but there. And resolutely NOT smiling. I was in such a state of shock that I forced out a half smile/half grimace, probably terrifying the lovely woman, and got back to my book. It set me all a-fluster for the rest of the journey. Perhaps it was the sunshine that got to her head. Perhaps she'd had a really good night's sleep. Or perhaps, she was just plain human, craving some social contact on a journey that can regularly make you feel isolated and insular. Maybe, like me, she was just enjoying the view of the city bathed in sunshine.

I love London. And I'm not ashamed to admit that (although you'll never see me in one of those awful T-Shirts). I thought I'd always say no to a city; loving the great outdoors as I do, I couldn't imagine being in an urban sprawl every day. But, I've spent the past couple of months gradually spending more and more of my time in the city, exploring new haunts, meeting new people and learning to love its architecture, culture and people. I've seen the sun rise from a bridge over the Thames, I've had an amazing breakfast at 5am, I've explored painted halls in Greenwich and I've sampled some pretty awesome theatre at The National. In a city where we live and work on top of each other, I've been able to find not only constant company and stimulation, but peace and solitude as well. 

This is one of those things that just makes me adore London even more, a city which I don't yet live in, but I already think of as my home. I spend far more of my waking hours there than the sleepy village of Higham in which I officially reside, and I hope to be moving to our beloved capital very soon. I need to. I love my parents dearly, and thank them so much for allowing me to live in their home for the past two years - for virtually nothing, considering all the food I eat and the mess I make. But I'm not a country boy any more, and they know as well as I do that living at home at 23 is not something I wanted to do. I need the city, I need people, I need the possibility of going out on a whim and not having to think about getting the last train home. I need a place where, as happened today, a friend can give me a call to say he's around and, within five minutes, we can go for a coffee and properly brighten up my day (thanks Ben, that was ace). Not somewhere where I have to make plans way in advance because I need to arrange to have the car, or a lift from the Mum&Dad Taxi Co. I need a place where, if I want to, I can invite people I meet home. A place where I can find somewhere open for a drink past 11. A place where something is always happening; but where if I go for a walk on my own I don't have to explain why.

And so, I refer you to my previous posting 'Yes is a Little Word...' I don't know what I'll be doing come September, whether I'll be making money or whether I'll be doing any more acting. But one thing is for sure, as soon as I possibly can, I will be saying Yes to the chance to live in the city. It may be terrible for my bank balance, but it will be perfect for my sanity, my friendships and (possibly) my love life. And when I finally do move, expect one hell of a house party. Maybe I'll invite the lady who smiled at me on the train this morning.