ELEPHANT TO PADDINGTON

The sun fell behind the clouds over Westminster Bridge. A ray of fading light caught the glittering tip of Elizabeth Tower, still wrapped in its scaffolding. To the other side, the London Eye, Waterloo Bridge, and further down, the tall skyscrapers of the city were glinting, and the majestic River Thames jostled by, green and grey and blue in the evening light.

I said I couldn’t ever work in London - it’s in far too much of a noisy hurry all the time - but it occurred to me anyway, that here I was, heading home from working in London, and quite enjoying the long walk from Elephant and Castle to Paddington.

It had been okay, after all. I had sat in the room with my colleagues, kept up with the discussion, then contributed as well as I could. I didn’t feel particularly embarrassed or humiliated, and I did seem to be part of things rather than shy in the corner. In addition, I felt focused - as though the pressure of not being watched on a screen had vanished. This was the first real work meeting I’d had for eighteen months and I was even enjoying it.

I don’t know why I decided to walk back. The journey took me west across the river, past the glimmering Houses of Parliament, and up to St James’s Park and Buckingham Palace (the flag was down). From there I walked the long leafy avenue of Green Park, crossing over to Hyde Park corner and then back to Paddington through the wide and wonderful park, finally emerging along the Bayswater Road. It’s much better seeing London above ground, I think.

I don’t think everyone would have made the same choice. Some would have taken the tube, some would have forked out for another taxi, I guess. I seem to have a habit of going about things the hard way, even if it involves time, beauty and a whole lot of effort. The long walk suddenly seemed a bit like a metaphor for a lot of other things in my life.

Paddington Station looked inviting in the twilight. Its arched roof appeared at the end of a long, leaf-lined avenue of black railings and Edwardian buildings. Restaurants bristled with life, with professional types sipping tall beers in the evening air. I marched past, reaching the warm, open space of the station concourse - the gateway home.

A few of my colleagues have to do this every other week. One even travels from Liverpool, I discovered. I don’t think I could do that. He wouldn’t have got home until 10pm! But then, I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t have also chosen to walk from Elephant and Castle to Euston Station. He’d have very sensibly got an Uber. 

I don’t know when I’ll next need to be in the city, but hopefully it will be a while. After all, I definitely don’t want to work in London.