I only ever go to London on short trips; get the train down, do something touristy, eat something foodie, see a show, sleep, go back home, cry when I see my bank balance. In truth I don’t know if I like London much. It’s crowded, and I find that overwhelming. It’s so focused on tourism such that I don’t believe I’m in the real London. You know the real London; Chelsea Pensioners, Pearly Kings, the cast of Eastenders arguing, doing the ‘Lambeth Walk’ (Oi!), flower sellers, the occasional ‘ore wiv an ‘eart of gowd, guvnor, Sid James laughing, the musical genius of Chas and Dave (that’s enough cockney clichés). The ‘City’ one visits is like a movie set surrounded by an ocean of suburbia where real Londoners live. It’s a
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