I am a Londoner

  

I’m not from London, so I’ve never felt a real Londoner. Still, I’ve lived here on and off nearly half my life; my family is here, my life is here, both my kids were born here.

On Friday, I found myself walking across one of London’s bridges by night and took a photo (above). The people I walked past were from many different places, indeed many different countries; all enjoying a beautiful London evening.

Of course it’s not all fantastic. Too busy, too expensive, often choked with people and traffic. And you see people struggling: sleeping rough, struggling with booze, drugs, crime and poverty; people who are really up against it. 

But London is a great city. Of all the great capitals I’ve visited, only central Paris beats it for beauty – and maybe New York for chutzpah. There are places of antiquity with stunning sights and history – amazing Istanbul or Rome. There are places I’ve lived with more steel and glass: Hong Kong the most obvious. But London has pretty much everything you could ever want or need.

But why London is so special came home to me the other week; on the tenth anniversary of the 7/7 London bombings. 

July 7th 2005 was a terrible day. One I will certainly never forget, and was followed by anxious weeks for everyone in this city. Ken Livingstone, then London Mayor (and whatever you think of him, a true Londoner) said this at the time: 

“In the days that follow look at our airports, look at our sea ports and look at our railway stations and, even after your cowardly attack, you will see that people from the rest of Britain, people from around the world will arrive in London to become Londoners and to fulfil their dreams and achieve their potential.”

“They choose to come to London, as so many have come before because they come to be free, they come to live the life they choose, they come to be able to be themselves. They flee you because you tell them how they should live. They don’t want that and nothing you do, however many of us you kill, will stop that flight to our city where freedom is strong and where people can live in harmony with one another. Whatever you do, however many you kill, you will fail.”

I arrived in London 25 years ago, and as Ken said, this great city has enabled me to achieve my potential, and fulfil my dreams. Just as he describes, I have been free to live the life I have chosen, and to be myself.  

I’m proud that this city – my city – finds a place for all sorts of people, and lets them be who they want to be. Ken Livingstone’s words from ten years ago made me realise; although I wasn’t born here – I am a Londoner.

Stop Hoovering

  
I knew this (or at least I kind of did) but a line in a book has recently kept it on my mind… ‘Mood’ is more a matter of biochemistry than anything else.

In the right mood everything is possible: ingenuity, problem-solving, creativity and joy. In the wrong mood, it’s all too much; all too hard and nothing can be done.

Win the lottery, lose your job, whatever happens most people’s underlying ‘mood’ ticks along remarkably unaffected; so long as you let it. Apparently only bereavement really affects mood for extended periods. It seems we can’t short circuit grief.

So ‘mood’ in fact, is not really about how happy, fulfilled, successful, busy or creative we are. It’s about noradrenaline, serotonin, cortisol and melatonin. These operate in an internal chemistry set, controlled by the limbic system – which is pretty much the same as in a bear, a monkey, a cat or a dog.

The limbic system is very resilient, very effective and very old – crocodiles have one. But it needs looking after. Apparently if you stress it to much, it chemically crashes and puts you into a state of hibernation. Literally. 

My book says the physiological symptoms of stress-related depressive illness are best understood, as exactly what happens in a bear’s body when it prepares for hibernation…
  

Why? Because the limbic system interprets the signals from the environment as too ‘hostile’, and that same old system kicks in: which enables a crocodile to lie dormant in mud for months; or a bear to hole up in a cave. We shut down; to wait for better days.

And here’s where the Hoover comes in. Because if you’re working yourself to the point your limbic system is about to blow a fuse – you have to stop; however exhilarating is the sense of achievement of getting more things done, or however great the pressure to do even more.

The test for hard-working diligent people is this; literally and metaphorically can you sometimes ‘leave the Hoover in the middle of the room’..? That is, can you visibly leave half-finished a task, you and people around you expect you to finish? 

Ouch, guilt and fear of humiliation – that hurts…

Because if you can’t – and you don’t listen to your body and look after your mood, there’s only one place you’ll end up…. shattered, flat and feeling like hibernating. 

This much I have learned in the past few weeks – if you want to avoid becoming a very grizzly bear, sometimes you have to leave the Hoover in the middle of the room.

Black Cat

 

Apparently human beings are easily fooled by coincidence – we are tuned for life in a Stone Age village, where not that much happened.

The maths of probability are skewed by the everyday experience of everything happening to us. As the precocious footballer Mario Balotelli is wont to say ‘why always me?’

Lady Luck is our constant companion, as we try to fit random events into a sensible narrative of what the blazes is happening to us. Studies suggest the gods (although not God) first sprang from here.

So how much of life is luck, how much is the luck you made – for better and for worse? Who knows. It all seems to makes sense looking back; but at the time…

Was it me, others, chance, caprice – or the hand of gods or God? Whatever and wherever you ascribe the credit or blame, like the handsome black cat who once stalked me for a fortnight, I have landed firmly on all four paws this week. 

Happy days.

Enobarbus

 

I always remember – from my youth – Enobarbus’s immortal line from Antony and Cleopatra…

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety. 

Antony and Cleopatra: Act II Scene II

I was Enobarbus in our classroom rendition of Shakespeare’s classic. And as it was in the play, so it is in life.

‘Infinite variety’ keeps you on your toes. Sometimes frustrating, but perhaps essential in a life partner. 

But as Lepidus says at the start of the scene:

Good Enobarbus, ’tis a worthy deed,
And shall become you well, to entreat your captain
To soft and gentle speech.

‘Infinite variety’ and ‘soft and gentle speech’ aren’t bad ingredients, to keep the most important relationship on the right road.

With a little help from my friends

The song says it all. It can sound cheesy; but it ain’t… This week, I got by with a little help from my friends.

The genuine care, interest, support and love of friends has gently and kindly steered me to a much better place. If last week ended in comparative darkness; this one ended in light.

A good friend briefly home from abroad, walked with me, talked with me and in the process put a supportive arm around my shoulders. The world of men can be a lonely place, but together we stared unblinkingly at the facts. And in so doing he gave me solace and strength – and followed up with a new opportunity.

More joyfully, with my great friend from closer to home, we celebrated our mutual success at goading each other to shed a few pounds – with a big fat gourmet cheeseburger each.

Today I’m wearing a sweatshirt the missus bought me for the Xmas before last – which for the first time in all that time, I fit in; trimly and unselfconsciously. Happy days.

Finally the missus herself. She knows I’ve been struggling and has been there for me all week. A kind word, a cuppa, a conversation – and a great big uninterrupted lie-in this morning.

The moral of the story; we all get by far better with a little help from our friends.