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London is changing: where have all the queues gone?


London is changing – where have all the queues gone?
After the outburst in my previous article “Brexit and the upheavals of doing a place up in London” to balance things out I want to write about something ‘English’ I really love. Actually there is a lot I like about London, but here I am talking about culture and traditions. Although I remember the time when it was impossible to find a courgette, and broccolis was a swear word – I am talking pre-EU times – I am very fond of the, good, old, very English, queueing system. And why wouldn’t I be, I come from a country where people overtake at any opportunity, not just when they’re driving. My memories of buying something at a busy shop are irremediably linked to waiting, waiting, and more waiting; and by the time I opened my mouth to formulate my request, three or four people had already come in, bought, paid and left: the veni, vidi, vici of modern times.
Once upon a time, in London, people queued up for buses, and in some areas they still do − Luckily, I live in one of those areas (I will provide a photo at a later time) − therefore, it’s with great sadness and regret that I’m witnessing the disappearance of that very British institution which is the bus queue, or any queue. I have fond memories of standing at Victoria Station, waiting for a friend, turning around and finding a queue of four people behind me. Those where dangerous times, if you wanted to stop anywhere, without causing trouble, you had to carefully select the right spot or you could give rise to problems of various kind.

The question is why would anyone prefer a shambles to a relaxing, orderly queue? Queues are good for your coronary system and people who queue up live longer. That’s a fact.

Now we have to be honest. I am sure that if you were born in the UK queuing is second nature to you, and you probably regard any society where people don’t, undeserving of this name. You might refer to those people as being uncivilized, even if they have produced great works of art and engineering at the time when your ancestors lived in huts. I go with that, as I said, I am a huge fan of queues. Even though what follows is not going to sound politically correct, my conclusion is that people who don’t queue up must be FOREIGNERS. Yes, that dirty word. I’ve said it. And here comes my second question. When I arrived in London I immediately embraced this wonderful habit and I put behind me, forever, those anxiety ridden moments of waiting to get on buses, till there were no places left; of waiting at the newsagent’s, till it was completely empty so that I could buy a newspaper or, even worse, a ticket for a bus I would never be able to board on the first place. So, my second question is, why would some people ignore this beautiful human snake − of different colours, elegantly turning around corners and leaving gaps in front of the crossings − in favour of untideness, chaos and any other evil that comes from it?

As a FOREIGNER I plead with all the other foreigners from any civilized or uncivilized country to respect, cherish and obey the beautiful and unique British queuing system and I can guarantee that you will live longer. Arrivederci.
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