I'm on the Tube every day, and let me tell you, something terrible is afoot. Simple things we Londoners used to take for granted - you know, people standing on escalators on the right, people stepping to the side of the doors and letting others off carriages first-have fallen by the wayside.
These days? It's the wild west down there.
As a lifelong Londoner nothing gives me greater pleasure than living somewhere where every single place I could ever want to visit in a 20-mile radius is available to access via the Tube. I'm constantly ducking and diving underground, popping up like a periscope at various unexpected locations, working, visiting friends, going out.
I pride myself on taking full advantage of living in the most glamorous, most exciting, vibrant, thrilling city in the world and the Tube is my key to the kingdom.
In the past week I've been to Elephant and Castle for a baby shower, Uxbridge for a football match, and traversed the city daily from Acton to Liverpool Street for work. (Acton might not be everyone's first choice, but where else, may I ask, has three Tubes, an overground and the Elizabeth line? Acton is a London adventurer's dream. I can get to Bond Street in nine minutes, Hackney Wick in 20 and South Ken in 10. Can you?) But something awful is happening underground. A growing savagery. Vulgarians who haven't been educated about the exquisite etiquette of the London Underground. Rude, ill-mannered. "After you, obviously," is something I'm forced to mutter endlessly in my pass-agg tone to the shovers, the pushers.
A litany of rudeness
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der January 30, 2025-Ausgabe von The London Standard.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der January 30, 2025-Ausgabe von The London Standard.
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