Peter

London's fast. If London ran its own marathon, it'd probably get disqualified for cheating.

Everything happens so quickly. This ever changing atmosphere is something that manifests itself in the way people live their lives, even the way you think. London runs in light speed and those who live here can only try and keep up. One minute you're up, next minute your down. One minute you're gagging to get out, next minute you can't think of anywhere else you'd rather be.

Nothing epitomises this cities dual nature than my lunchtime expedition from Warren Street to Embankment, or North of the river to South Bank, or BT Tower to London Eye. I wondered towards the station wrapped in my own thoughts. Mainly cloudy thoughts, I've got too much in my mind that I can't make sense of; stuff I'm not comfortable blogging about. That's not to say I haven't blogged about it before, I'm just evaluating how much I share these days. It's too easy to get caught up in blogging, you end up sharing too mu-...

GET OUT OF MY WAY

...interrupted my thoughts. He didn't raise his voice, just said it angrily as he walked past and it left me baffled. I wasn't in your f@~ing way, mate. I looked over my shoulder at him and he turned round, glaring at me as he strode off. I walked into the tube shaking my head and muttering how rude, how bloody rude. Bloody London. Bloody rude London people.

A few minutes later and I'm walking up those familiar steps outside Embankment tube. I get stuck behind two slow stepping pensioners, and the man taps his wife and mentions for her to move aside so I can get by. "No, it's ok" I said, drawing level, "If I go too quickly, my calves will start to ache." The man smiled, I don't think he heard me. "Yes. Enjoy the sunshine".

I got to the other side of the bridge, smiling from my little exchange, where a Big Issue seller was doing his best to shift some magazines. He looked at me as I approached and over the bassline on my earphones I heard him say

"Big Issue, darling?"
"Not unless you take card!" I said, and continued down the steps.
"I've got chip and pin!" he replied, and I laughed. "Hey! Hey! Wait! Do you walk across this bridge every day?"
"Not usually," I replied, taking the earphones out and turning around, "Sometimes"
"How often do you walk across it?" he asked
"About once every three weeks?"
"Right" he said, and started digging in his bag with the magazines.
"No no no! You can't give me one, I don't have any money on me! No no no!"
"Take it!" and he handed me the magazine. "Take it and pay me when you can. You'll be back. I know you will, no one's let me down yet. I know you won't. Whether it's this week or three weeks, whenever you're next passing. My name's Peter."
"Ok Peter. Thank you!"

I walked off and exchanged grins with another man who'd been standing watching the exchange between me and the homeless man. I smiled all the way to my destination. On the way back, I went via the same bridge. Peter was packing up his magazines and I went over. "Mate," I said, "I've got your money" and handed him £1.50. "You were right, see, I came back".

"Thank you darling, oh thank you. You just caught me I was packing up, I..I need a ruddy pee, you see. But thank you, you nearly missed me!"
"That's ok. Thanks for the magazine. I've never bought the Big Issue before. Have a good day"
"You too. SEE YOU IN A WEEK!" he yelled after me, and people on the bridge turned to look.

And just like that, London was back in my good books.