the viscosity project

So.

I’m not sure how many people regularly commute to London from their very own suburb, but it must be a sizeable proportion of the population of good old London town.

I count myself in a somewhat priveledged position here, if you can call it that, because I commute the other way. From my flat on threadneedle street (yeh, right) I go to Bromley to waste far more time than is necessary working. I ride a bike.

This, in itself, is nothing special. What is, though, is the wind. In the morning, the friction caused by all those lattes being lifted, from all the skinny jeans being drawn over newly shaven legs, creates hot air. As any of you who have been to school will know, this means that the air above central London rises. Thus, the cold, refreshing air of the suburbs (provided mainly by the notoriously thrifty “poor”, God Bless Them) instantly wants a part of the gentrified action. It breezes in, as it were.

Eight hours pass, and the sun goes down(ish). Suddenly, all that rustic air, having sunned itself in the *ahem* sun all day, decides to rise. There’s probably cider up there or something, or perhaps just a massive joint, I don’t know, anyway; the point is, the city air blows the other way, out of London.

I wouldn’t have noticed this, of course, if i hadn’t of been riding the other way ALL THE BLOODY TIME. It’s a bit annoying. But, and this is important, it means that all you people commuting into London probably aren’t aware of this. It’s pretty hard to notice wind that blows in exactly the same direction, at almost the same pace, as you. About as hard, I would say, as noticing someone on the train. This is exactly the point, although there are two ways of looking at it.

The first is that the wind has decided to go to work. All you guys have made it so embarassed that it’s decided to stop arsing about blowing flags and lifting skirts and got itself a suit. To put it bluntly, we made it do this, mainly by making the city itself.

The second is that it’s making us do it. This is the scary one. As though it was meant to happen, that there has always been this tide in London, and we are being swept along against our will. As if, when waking in the morning, you have no choice but to get the train. That the train cannot divert it’s course. That, whilst eddies may take you into Starbucks, that whilst a powerful car may allow you a week in the country, you are caught. You are the wave, breaking every morning against bulwarks of concrete.

Of course, the perceptive among you will have realised the obvious.

The two are not incompatible.  We created this, and we are trapped in it.