What's all this then?

I love my city.* But like all good relationships, it takes some work. You can't go rushing through life never stopping for a breather and pretend you're surprised when your better half kicks off. No one is at their best when they feel small, overlooked, or taken for granted one too many times. In many ways, London is rather similar.

A digital scan of a black-and-white film negative of 'Out of Order' in Kingston upon Thames, a sculpture by David Mach depicting several red telephone boxes falling like dominoes. — South west London born and raised (and no, I didn't go to private school).

Plenty of people — myself included — tend to have a very compartmentalised view of the capital. You know your neighbourhood within a 15 or 20 minute walking distance. Your local high street's a given, your nearest supermarket too; there's probably one too many familiar takeaways, a café you like, a non-Wetherspoons local if you're lucky. Then you have the same again around where you work (bonus points if you walk or cycle). Lastly, there is the patchwork of not-unfamiliar territory that makes up 'the rest of London'. Friends who moved across the city, the dentist you've kept for years which always has NHS check-ups on-tap, your old flat with that landlord.

And that's it.

It's probably got something to do with the marvelous public transport.** I blame the Tube. It's quick and relatively efficient, but at the cost of being mostly underground,*** meaning we often don't see where we are going. Our understanding of the city we live in is contained within these separate bubbles, connected by what is essentially just scenery to us. No one can feel part of a place if they're just passing through.

A digital scan of a black-and-white film negative of a deep-level London Underground station. — The average Zone 1 experience.

That is what The Meander wants to solve. It's a place to show off all the interesting stories we rush past each and every day. You could say it is "fostering a sense of place" if you did one a delightfully unemployable Masters degree (I did). You could call it a niche, one-man archive of local history if you aren't very good at thinking up headlines (I wasn't). Or, you can write it off as one of many generic, self-serving blogs cluttering the Internet, provided you're a cycnic who is as unromantic as you are dull.

This is all to say, welcome. Put the kettle on, get settled, and lets explore a few more reasons why a man who is tired of London, is tired of life itself.

A digital scan of a black-and-white film negative of a dark path covered with trees with a tall white building looming behind it. — It can seem daunting, but sometimes the road less travelled isn't a road at all.

Notes

* I grew up in Zone 6, but at least I still get scared outside Oyster range.

** The only reliable thing my train to work is its commitment getting stuck at Clapham Junction for some increasingly-novel reason.

*** Technically the network has more track above ground than under it, but the busiest sections are underground. You knew what I meant.