LUKE MARSDEN: There's no place like home
A Wiganer in London. It sounds like the title of a novel that nobody would read or a Channel 5 TV show that would get cancelled after one season.
But London is where I was earlier this week.
Back in 2009 I lived in the capital for a year and it’s safe to say the place is very different from it was 13 years ago.
But, in many ways, it’s exactly the same too. Those 13 years ago, when I boarded the tube, I would be rammed on like cattle in a pen, and just like it was 2009, earlier this week I was rammed onto a tube, like cattle ready to be slaughtered.
Nobody can say riding the London Underground is an enjoyable experience, so much so that fellow passengers remarked how awful it was. I asked one of them how do they do this every single day. His reply: “I drink a lot.”
What happened to Covid? That was what I asked myself as a rather large man listening to Slipknot loudly through his headphones, breathed all over me. It’s as though the deadly virus just disappeared as a certain orange-faced ex-US President said it would.The common saying is it’s grim up north. Well I challenge them to spend a wet day in London.
I had some downtime between meetings, so I decided to pop across and see Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. Why our legislators don’t spend more time in their constituencies is beyond me? A lot of people were lining the streets in the rain to take selfies with the iconic Big Ben in the background.
It’s good to hear Big Ben bonging at least that cheered up the passers-by at rush hour.As I stepped my soaking wet shoes back onto the platform at Wigan North Western, I really did think to myself there’s no place like home.
True northern grit is lacking down south and the people I met in London really did seem at the end of their tether.
They should come and have a staycation in Wigan. We don’t need the West End when we’ve got the Wigan Little Theatre and cheaper pints!