I don’t think I could have written this blog on anything other than the events of the last few nights in London. There isn’t any point of trying to comment on the latest happenings of the London riots because it’s all changing so quickly that as soon as I’ve written something it’ll be old news. At the same time I don’t think it’s really my place to comment on what caused, what the media has called, the civil unrest. How very British – civil unrest. They’re burning and looting the shit out of London, there is very little civility on show.
After 10 years of living in London, I moved to Sydney at the start of this year. I didn’t move because I didn’t like living in London. I love London; it’s a fantastic place to live and one of the most amazing cities in the world. I moved because my wife and I had an opportunity to move and we felt like we needed a change. They say a change is as good as a holiday, I’ve never really bought into that so we had a long holiday as well. Better to be safe than sorry.
I am, by common definition, Australian. When I say, ‘by common definition’, I mean that I was born in Australia, I’m an Australian citizen and when asked to write it on a form I will say that my nationality is Australian. However, I moved to London straight after graduating university, when I was still 20 years old. So I was never really an adult in Australia. I became an adult in London and the majority of my working life was in London. The majority of the time I’ve been interested in politics and social issues was in London. I guess that, as an adult, I could be defined as a Londoner.
The reason I’m explaining all of this is because I want you to understand my connection to London. London helped define who I am and it’s that link that I feel to London that makes watching what’s happening so hard. I actually want to be there. Not to do anything about it, but to feel it. London is hurting and I feel like I’ve let it down by not being there to share it’s pain.
Let’s be honest, if I was there I would have reacted in the stiff-upper-lipped-British way – I would have tutted loudly and shaken my head in disbelief. But it’s not about doing anything, it’s not about helping (if you’ve read any of my previous blogs you’ll know that selflessness is not one of my overriding personality traits), it’s about being a part of it.
When you go to a funeral you’re not going to help the person who’s dead. Sure you’ll convince yourself that you’re going to help the other mourners come to terms with their grief. But in reality you’re going to help yourself deal with the emotions that you’re feeling that you can’t quite understand. By seeing others who feel the same as you it validates what you’re feeling. It makes it okay to not understand but to just feel.
That’s what I’m going through now. London is in crisis and for as long as I’ve been of an age to care I’ve lived in London. With the exception of my wife, the people I know here in Sydney don’t feel the same and I can’t talk about what I’m feeling because I don’t know what I’m feeling. All I know is that they don’t feel the same and they should. If I was in London I wouldn’t have to know what I was feeling, all I would have to do would to be surrounded by Londoners to know they were feeling the same.
With my funeral metaphor I’m not saying that London is dead. London is stronger than anything that a bunch of children can hurl, burn or steal. It’s stronger than them because London isn’t the buildings, as beautiful as they are. It’s the people. The people of London have dealt with a lot over the years. They don’t feel the need to talk about it and they don’t. They just deal with it and move on. London will get on with the next day because that’s what London does. But they move on together and right now I’m feeling a little lost because I’m not moving on with them.
To those who read my blogs regularly, I’m sorry that I didn’t write a funny light-hearted blog on something else. I just wasn’t in the mood. I’ll get back to the funny writing tomorrow. By then I will have moved on too.
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