I’m reading this book at the moment where A. N. Wilson doesn’t even attempt to paint a grand and united picture of London history that doesn’t exist: To cut a long story short, unlike New York, our favorite city is a wild mix of a number of different boroughs that were initially quite far from today’s zone 1. This gradual development might be part of what attracts people to the city. Everyone can find their own niche here, forget a ready-made concept of what urban culture has to look like, people from all sorts of backgrounds come, shape it and give it a new identity. The constant, even compulsive process of getting this ‘new identity’ is old, though, it’s attached to the city like Kensington Palace or Westminster Bridge.
So it happens that some Occupy protesters are listening to small concert in front of St. Paul’s Cathedral, fashion bloggers are shooting photos around Somerset House, some ladies are enjoying the first signs of spring at the V&A, a family is posing at Russell Square, highly concentrated pals are playing chess on Brick Lane and two dogs are falling in love with each other. London, once and for all, we love you because you don’t make any sense – in the most beautiful of ways.
