Tuesday 16 February 2016

London, my London

After my stop at Arsenal’s football headquarters, the Emirates, I headed off towards Angel Islington. At the end of the speed-bump-filled Drayton Park, I was greeted by the A1’s last urban transmutation: Holloway Road. This is a long thoroughfare that runs from the North Circular or A406 to the Angel. To drive, walk or cycle on it, is to become acquainted with some of London’s landmarks, such as HM prison Holloway and London Metropolitan University. In its one-hundred-and-sixty-four-year-old existence the former has served as residence to one Emily Wilding Davison, of the suffragettes’ movement and infamous Myra Hindley, the notorious Moors murderer along with her boyfriend Ian Brady. The latter has counted amongst its famous alumni, one-half of Pet Shop Boys, Neil Tennant and feminist Julie Bindel. Law enforcement and education sitting almost side by side. I could not help thinking, as I crossed over to Palmer Place that more investment in the latter would probably mean making less use of the former.

My thoughts were still on London Met and its former student luminaries when my tarmac-licking two-wheeler turned left on to Liverpool Road.  Current Labour leader Jeremy Corby went there, although back then it was still being known for its former title, University of North London or North London Polytechnic. At the time of cycling from White Hart Lane to Stamford Bridge, Labour had yet to elect a new leader. The party was still in disarray over a disastrous general election and on a soul-searching mission. When I sat down to revise this post a few weeks ago, the British Parliament had just been asked to vote on the decision to bomb Syria. It had pitted Arsenal-supporting now-party-leader Jeremy Corbyn versus Spurs-loving Hilary Benn. Suddenly English football-s fiercest rivalry (think Yankees against Boston Red Sox in baseball) had taken on a different meaning. To add to the irony (or the sadness of it if you are a left-wing Labour voter), Arsenal’s nickname is the “Gunners”. Its crest has the image of a cannon on it. A peace-loving party leader, who supports a team that has a weapon of war as a logo, votes not to drop bombs on innocent civilians. Opposing him, but still in the same party, is a dick. Sorry, a cock. Apologies, a cockerel-sporting Member of Parliament. The Spurs crest is that of a rooster.

Another thought that assailed me as I biked on Liverpool Road, Angel-Islington- bound, came after observing my fellow cyclists. I had noticed a change in this now, very up-to-date bicycle-themed London landscape after I set off from Bill Nicholson Way. At first, there were barely other cycles on the road. The majority were pavement-riding, law-breaking, hoodie-wearing youngsters (and a few adults, too). Mudguard-free and thick-tired, most of these bicycles looked as if they were mainly being used to get from A to B.

The scenery changed as soon as I got to Stamford Hill. Here were the first fixies, which even the beard-boasting Haredi were riding. I noticed also an increase in bicycles with dropped bars with their customary Lycra-wearing proprietors. However, it was on Brownswood Road where the bike traffic increased ten-fold. Here were pricey Bromptons, dreamy, adventure-inspiring Lunas and steel-frame Noodles. As I came closer to the Angel, these classy-looking, expensive cycles were joined by Boris self-service, Santander-sponsored bikes. These bikes (except for Boris ones) were not just means of transportation to get someone from A to B. These were statements. Purchasing power statements. Fashion statements. Neighbourhood statements. What I discovered as I continued my journey towards the Thames was that London had not only become a more cycle-friendly city but also a place where the type of bike one had probably said as much about the owner as a car did.

I stopped for a few minutes outside the restaurant that has become my favourite eaterie in the capital. The Indian Vegetarian Restaurant on Chapel Market is a cheap buffet outlet with a friendly staff, a cozy and intimate atmosphere.



After this small detour I resumed my journey westwards. At the traffic lights at Angel Islington, I went straight ahead on to St John Street and turned right on to Roseberry Avenue where one of London’s two dance hubs is situated: Sadler’s Wells (the other one is The Place in Euston). I knew Farringdon Road was not far and with it, the Thames.

© 2016

Next Post: “London, my London”, to be published on Thursday 18th February at 6pm (GMT)

18 comments:

  1. I love Indian food but I like mine with meat.

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  2. The restaurant looks like a winner.
    Sadly our politicians can take us to war (and do take us to war) without a vote.
    I am loving hearing about places (Angel Islington for one) which I have so often read about...
    And some bikes cost nearly as much as a small car now...

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  3. The City has revealed itself to you. "The Knowledge" of taxi drivers is of an inferior sort to yours! Enjoy your great city, friend!

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  4. Thank you for the mini-tour! :) (I'm sort of a Spurs fan, but I try not to be a you-know-what.)

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  5. An eye-opener on bikes. I'd never thought they could be categorised, like clothing and district!

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  6. Never knew there were that many bikes to say that much about an owner haha restaurant sure looks like it has cheap food indeed

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  7. I had not thought about it before, but, yes, bicycles are as much a statement about the owners as are automobiles, clothing, jewelry, hair styles, preferences in drinks. I think I will be paying closer attention to bike riders in that regard from now on. It is another useful tool for learning about individuals.

    I can identify with your people / places analogy, CiL. Countless times I have walked with a book in hand, reading and following in the footstep of a writer who walked the ground before me -- sometimes many generations before me -- and, sometimes, seeing places unchanged from then until now.

    Cool stuff, CiL.

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  8. I would try the Veggie Indian place--I remember eating in an Indian restaurant not far from LSE when I was there--it was great and proclaimed to be the oldest "North Indian" restaurant in London and run, I think, mostly be Sikhs. They'd been in business since 1946--starting when India was still a colony. (FYI-the beer I had, came from South India-Bangalore)

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  9. And what does a Claud Butler say? My husband brought his with him from Scotland, only to find that this area of the States isn't terribly bike-friendly.

    Lovely to see and read your view on areas I've only known through books.

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  10. loved your guided tour of this part of London.
    your part about the law-breaking, pavement riding cyclist made me smile. over here, it's very common to see these cyclists. i have mentioned before that our roads are not too friendly for cyclists, so these people rather risk the law than their lives. Bromptons are rather expensive, but they fold up very compactly, small enough to bring into a bus or train.

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    1. I love Bromptons. There is a certain uniqueness about them. I wish I had the cash to buy one. I would only use it at weekends to go to my local kaffee-klatsch. :-)

      Greetings from London.

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  11. So many famous and infamous people in that area, just reading your post made me reflect on the various sagas that surround every one. Extremely interesting and I liked reading about the bikes.... by the way, what make is yours?

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    1. Raleigh. Perfect for commuting but not too good for off-road journeys and I have been making a lot of those recently.

      Greetings from London.

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  12. Your bicycling tour and sociopolitical insights are thought-provoking, ACIL. You could probably write a bestselling novel around bicycling because most people can easily relate to the subject. When I was about nine years old, living on an American air base in Germany, my parents bought me a 3-speed Raleigh bicycle, made in England, stainless steel frame, painted gold, with a headlamp powered by pedaling. My dad made sure that I knew the rules of the road and made me practice hand signals before he turned me loose to ride around the base. I was fairly proud of that bicycle until my friends demonstrated that they could ride off-road with their cheaper, banana-seat bikes, and they could throw them to the ground and leave them there without a care when called in for supper. At the end of the day, I was expected to clean off the road grime with a rag and tote the bike downstairs to the basement of the apartment building, making sure that it was securely locked away in our family's storage cage. Needless to say, I wanted a cheap, banana-seat bike more than anything! After all these years, though, I still regret trading that Raleigh in for a 10-speed Schwinn mountain bike when I was in my 30s. It had none of the character and certainly none of the staying power of the Raleigh as rust set in after just a couple of years.

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    1. Thanks for your comment. I'm chuckling here because my bike is a... Raleigh.

      Greetings from London.

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  13. Thank you all for your comments. Some of you have mentioned the cycle-friendliness in London, but, actually, it is not that straightforward. As it happens I am addressing that in my next post.

    Greetings from London.

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  14. I admire the bravery of your city cycling! And the political aspects of people's cycle choices! And wish I had some Indian food right now. Take care, k.

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  15. That must be interesting ..... to see the cyclists increase as you move along.
    When on a bike, you tend to observe more things (compared to being in a four wheeler)

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