Just a quick one... why is it that everywhere in this country it is polite to keep left when on staircases, yet on the London Underground you have to keep right on escalators?
This has always made me wonder. Any suggestions welcome.
That is all.
Showing posts with label London observations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London observations. Show all posts
Monday, 15 August 2011
Monday, 8 August 2011
London observations: Religion.
Religion is a massive in London. Like, really, really huge. Churches are over-subscribed to the point that Sundays usually require several services, Mosques are huge and Fridays see outpourings of people which I have only ever previously seen at large events like football matches and to me, that is amazing. Religion, here, is mainstream. Not for the 'sad' or the 'losers' or just that place you go on Christmas Eve for midnight mass.
In Plymouth, those religious few really are just that - a few. They are the minority who are mocked by the rest (the non-religious population) and most churches and the synagogue are struggling to survive. Bearing in mind the fact that there is so little demand for a mosque that the only 'mosque' is essentially someone's converted garage, and you get an idea of how different it is here.
That's why I find it so amazing that everyone is so religious. I knew of the diversity before I moved, but the fact that churches are so over-subscribed here that some services attract upwards of 1000 people? It amazes me, it truly does.
Religion in general amazes me to the point of being almost jealous of those who are religious. To feel that strongly that there is an all-loving God who looks over them and their families and to have that to turn to when you need support or guidance must be a great comfort. I don't know what I believe, but I don't believe that. I don't believe that if there truly is an all-loving God (I am talking Christianity here, although it applies to all religions I guess), that he would just sit by and watch the awful things which happen in this world go on. I know he gave us all free-will, but if I were God and I sat upstairs watching a man rape a child and I were truly all-loving, I would take free-will back and kick some ass. Or I would at least have a cheeky flick of some clouds in the direction of Somalia. No-one would ever need to know, but suffering would end. Simple.
Which is why I can't believe in God. It's not that I don't want to, I spent most of my teenage years as a part of the local church community through Girls Brigade and Sunday schools, and whilst I strongly believe in the Christian values and ways of living (tolerance, patience, forgiveness, treating others as you would wish to be treated etc), I just cannot bring myself to believe the stories or the existence of God at all.
Or if there is a God, he's rubbish. If I were marking his work I'd be using a "Try harder next time" stamp. And therefore, I wouldn't worship him anyway.
So, religious people of London, enjoy your communities and enjoy your beliefs. You're lucky to have them here, and lucky to have it at all.
In Plymouth, those religious few really are just that - a few. They are the minority who are mocked by the rest (the non-religious population) and most churches and the synagogue are struggling to survive. Bearing in mind the fact that there is so little demand for a mosque that the only 'mosque' is essentially someone's converted garage, and you get an idea of how different it is here.
That's why I find it so amazing that everyone is so religious. I knew of the diversity before I moved, but the fact that churches are so over-subscribed here that some services attract upwards of 1000 people? It amazes me, it truly does.
Religion in general amazes me to the point of being almost jealous of those who are religious. To feel that strongly that there is an all-loving God who looks over them and their families and to have that to turn to when you need support or guidance must be a great comfort. I don't know what I believe, but I don't believe that. I don't believe that if there truly is an all-loving God (I am talking Christianity here, although it applies to all religions I guess), that he would just sit by and watch the awful things which happen in this world go on. I know he gave us all free-will, but if I were God and I sat upstairs watching a man rape a child and I were truly all-loving, I would take free-will back and kick some ass. Or I would at least have a cheeky flick of some clouds in the direction of Somalia. No-one would ever need to know, but suffering would end. Simple.
Which is why I can't believe in God. It's not that I don't want to, I spent most of my teenage years as a part of the local church community through Girls Brigade and Sunday schools, and whilst I strongly believe in the Christian values and ways of living (tolerance, patience, forgiveness, treating others as you would wish to be treated etc), I just cannot bring myself to believe the stories or the existence of God at all.
Or if there is a God, he's rubbish. If I were marking his work I'd be using a "Try harder next time" stamp. And therefore, I wouldn't worship him anyway.
So, religious people of London, enjoy your communities and enjoy your beliefs. You're lucky to have them here, and lucky to have it at all.
Monday, 1 August 2011
London Observations: Personal Space.
Now I've been living in London for a month, there are many things I have noticed which I thought I would share. I hope in doing so I can find out some of your stories and assure me that it isn't just me who attracts the weirdos and unusual experiences! So here's the first of many.
Personal Space.
In every culture, and particularly ours, there are very clear social expectations about personal space. There is a limit we all know and understand about how close we can get to someone without it seeming awkward and uncomfortable and this is even more pertinent when meeting strangers.
Yet, in London, and particularly on public transport, all of these social norms seem to fly out the window (or they would if there were any windows on the tube). Whilst we all understand that overcrowding means we are often forced to stand very close to, often touching, someone else, there is still a certain Britishness about the way we pack ourselves into the carriages side by side in order to maintain this sense of personal space. This usually involves being stood with one arm firmly on the lowest point of the rail to hold on and the other firmly rooted to our side.
I only make this observation today after spending nearly 20 minutes stood pretty much inside a fat man's armpit. And let's bear in mind here that it has been 27 degrees Celsius in London today and on the unventilated underground, said gentleman's armpit was of course, not a dry one. And it was at this point that I realised the sense of personal space, and everyone's understanding and respect of trying to maintain this at all costs on the underground, and how we take it for granted.
And isn't it just typical that I would be the one subjected to said torture. He could have held onto the vertical bar as opposed to the horizontal one on the roof; he could have held on directly above his own head rather than stretching out to be well above my head; the guy opposite could have helped me out of the situation in some way rather than giggling at me and winking... But this opens up another of my London observations which I will write up another time.
Personal Space.
In every culture, and particularly ours, there are very clear social expectations about personal space. There is a limit we all know and understand about how close we can get to someone without it seeming awkward and uncomfortable and this is even more pertinent when meeting strangers.
Yet, in London, and particularly on public transport, all of these social norms seem to fly out the window (or they would if there were any windows on the tube). Whilst we all understand that overcrowding means we are often forced to stand very close to, often touching, someone else, there is still a certain Britishness about the way we pack ourselves into the carriages side by side in order to maintain this sense of personal space. This usually involves being stood with one arm firmly on the lowest point of the rail to hold on and the other firmly rooted to our side.
I only make this observation today after spending nearly 20 minutes stood pretty much inside a fat man's armpit. And let's bear in mind here that it has been 27 degrees Celsius in London today and on the unventilated underground, said gentleman's armpit was of course, not a dry one. And it was at this point that I realised the sense of personal space, and everyone's understanding and respect of trying to maintain this at all costs on the underground, and how we take it for granted.
And isn't it just typical that I would be the one subjected to said torture. He could have held onto the vertical bar as opposed to the horizontal one on the roof; he could have held on directly above his own head rather than stretching out to be well above my head; the guy opposite could have helped me out of the situation in some way rather than giggling at me and winking... But this opens up another of my London observations which I will write up another time.
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