Love with a capital L

London is the best city in the world. And I refuse to believe that my opinion is in anyway biased, although I am a Londoner. Born and bred in London and I have no intent to live anywhere else! Home to the London underground (when the drivers aren’t striking!), London is truly your oyster…

Considering something a little unusual? London is the place for you as you’ll struggle to turn a street corner without being welcomed by some weirdly wonderful shop/person/restaurant etc.

Dreaming of a safe-haven from the vibrant streets that are bursting with busybodies? Take a two-minute walk to one of the expansive Royal parks that could pass as being in the countryside.

Fancy a cultural trip, like I did at the weekend? Try one of the prestigious museums or galleries that flaunt ancient artefacts and modern masterpieces.

Whatever your inner daredevil craves, London is bound to impress. I mean, how many places can you live in for 16 years and still be astonished daily by the relentless avenues to adventure that await? London must be one of only a few. I am plagued by the persistent guilt that I take advantage of London by rarely plunging deep enough into the hidden treasures right at my doorstep. Therefore on Sunday Lorcan and myself hopped on a train for a straightforward journey to Victoria and made our way -with the help of Google maps- to the Saatchi Gallery.

As we wound through the backstreets of Chelsea and Kensington, I was inspired by the sheer grandeur of the houses that lined the roads. With pillars too fat to reach your arms around, they instantaneously grab your respect. One wouldn’t dare to drop gum or litter on ‘Turk’s Row’ or any of the other pretentiously-named roads. These were the types of houses that would certainly not have pumpkins in their windows on Halloween and no trickster would even contemplate egging one…

I was beginning to believe we had taken a wrong turning when, behind the bushes, a swaying banner announced that we had reached the Saatchi Gallery. Alike the surroundings, the gallery, too, was magnificent, resembling a Royal palace reclining in the British countryside.

In all honesty, I’m not much of an arty-farty person and was dubious as to how much enjoyment I would get out of visiting a modern art gallery. However my doubts were soon appeased by the 14 galleries that somehow managed to repaint my perception of art. Art is much more than drawing (something that I don’t have much skill in). It is creativity. An exploration of yourself and a way of expressing it. You don’t need an explanation with a piece of artwork; just an inquisitive mind and your own unique interpretation. And we certainly had some unique interpretations…

Before I ramble on even more about arty-fartiness that may or may not be of interest to you, I will confirm that the purpose of this blog post is not to convince you that art is amazing. Art may be of complete insignificance to you and my desperate attempts to remould your perception will undoubtedly be unsuccessful. My true point is that London is exhilarating; chock-a-block with a buzzing sense of hysteria; brimming with possibilities. If you want art, you can bask in art. If you want freedom, you can loll in freedom. If you want diversity, you can submerge in diversity.

Above all, London is home. Red buses, black cabs, red telephone boxes and a silver-haired Queen. I yearn for the familiarity of London’s icons like you might reminisce on mum’s home-cooked bolognese, but I also crave the turbulence and never-ending eccentricity I share my home with. It’s safe to say that I Love London muchly! Note the capital L on love!


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