(Not so) hot in the City
Well, as you can see (if, indeed, there is any you out there), I haven't updated my blog for a while. I have been busy and also at a loss at what to write about. Life is so mundane sometimes; I often wonder if other bloggers are actually telling the truth when they list their various escapades, or whether I am just a dullard. The latter, I'm guessing.
Anyhoo, this blog is called Lost In London, which would suggest that it's about, er, London, but apart from a bit of emotive whingeing about some big, scary bombs, I haven't really gone on about London at all. I'm now going to remedy that. I'm kicking off with the City.
I don't work in the City, and for that I am very glad. I do, however, work very near the City: in Shoreditch, of all places, which will no doubt be a huge blog entry all of its own one day. The City is where loads of financial shit seems to be happening. All of the buildings are old and ornate apart from the odd, whopping skyscraper or crouching, ugly concrete block that houses some long-forgotten insurance company.
The City has the strange distinction, or indeed affliction, of being a place that might as well disappear into a vortex at the weekend. Monday to Friday the place is a mass of bodies, rushing from bus to Pret to work to toilet to desk to Pret to desk etc.
At the weekend, it's as if everybody has been hoovered up and dusted away and put in the sideboard until Monday. Shops don't bother opening because there's nobody there to frequent them, and buses sail past unattended bus stops along empty streets save for a few pissed people lost coming back from clubs in Old Street.
And what sort of people do you see in the City? More on this later...