This city of mine

I’ve always wondered when I would qualify as a ‘Londoner’. Is it the amount of years I’ve lived here? Is it when born and bred Londoners award me the title? Is it when I pick up the accent?

But I had the moment. It was on a particularly bad day. I was sick of everything. Fed up of the sweaty tube, fed up of the the tiny spaces, the overpriced drinks, the traffic, the noise, the crowds. And as I sat sweltering in my flat ordering a fan off Amazon, I started thinking, there is still, nowhere else I would rather be. I would still choose London.

I moved to London just before my 18th birthday for uni. I packed up my belongings, wide eyed and naive with no idea of what lay ahead of me. With 8.2 mil people and 1,572 km² in size, this city isn’t your friend. The competition is fierce. It’s the survival of the fittest. From being able to get on a packed train before it leaves to fighting over the last croissant at Pret.

Time moves at an abnormal rate. Everywhere takes 45 mins to get to. In winter, between being trapped in the office and the underground, you hardly see the light of day. Table for 2? You’re looking at a 40 minute wait. Some days you go to bed with the sound of police sirens and wake up to the sound of police sirens. The rental market is carnage. Online shopping is a requirement because everything is always out of stock. Add 15 mins to everything because no matter what is it, there will be a queue.

It’s enough to make anyone pack up and head up north to the land of chip butties and ease.

But I still love London. She may not be my friend but she has been my greatest teacher. She taught me loss, love and the real meaning of stress. She’s broken me more times than I can count but has always moulded me into better. She’s taught me survival, resilience and unashamed bravery. The kind of unashamed bravery that comes from fighting over the last packet of ice at your local Sainsbury’s.

She taught me friendships come in the form of flatmate sisterhood, the local barista that asks you how you are doing, neighbours that lend you a drill and the tfl staff that see you every morning and evening.

She was the backdrop of so many of my life moments, my first flat in Clapham, hard decisions at South Kensington, St James park when I realised I’ve found a friend for life, Camden Passage where I got the call, countless girl nights at Soho, Green Park station where I said goodbye, joyous news over dinner at King’s Cross and memory by memory this big city becomes your home.

You see, I think becoming a Londoner is an active choice. It’s when the rose tinted glasses come off and you see the city for what it is. And you still choose this place to be home.

This September marks the 9th year of living in this beautiful messy city. It’s my soul place. My first love. And so, congrats to me, on becoming a Londoner.