Sydney Kauffman takes issue with London’s status as a 24 hour city.
London, the city that never sleeps – really? How about London the city with a curfew?
My first experience of London was July 2012. I was 16 and the Olympic Games were in full swing. I was mesmerised by the mad rush that seemed to consume the entire city. Buses and taxis swamped the streets and people were always running for trains. Street performers were out in droves and shop fronts were decorated with banners and flowers alike.
When the lights came on at night, they were reflected in a sheen of warm rain from the shower half-an-hour before – somehow we never got caught in it. Everywhere I looked, the city seemed to hold a new adventure, and by the end of my four day trip I was sold on the London life.
Two-and-a-bit years later I found myself coming back to London – glorious and at the same time gloomy London, and going to university. To say I was living out my dreams, would not be an overstatement: I had dreamt of little else since I left. How I looked forward to the big city life: exploring the historic sites, bright lights, and maybe even a bit of the night life.
About three days into my stay, I started to notice how early everything closed. From grocery shops to restaurants to shopping centres, on a Wednesday night everything in my new area was shut and locked by 8:30pm. I managed to adapt well enough: get groceries earlier, no shopping trips after 5pm, and on Sundays make sure there’s food in the flat. It wasn’t until my first evening out that I really noticed how deserted London becomes at night.
A friend (who is also American) and I had gone out to a club near London Bridge, and after arriving late, queueing for an hour, and dancing for the better part of two, we were starving. When we left the club, my mate and I immediately started looking for the nearest McDonald’s or Burger King, not knowing that they had shut up shop at midnight. Up until this very moment I had thought London was like any American city, open 24/7 come hell or high water – that was my mistake No.1.
If I call the list of places open 24 hours in London short, I’m being exceedingly generous. After 15 minutes of wandering around – fed up, hungry, and still slightly dazed from the club, we managed to Google a list of places we could eat. The closest one was near Liverpool Street. Being new to the city, we thought it wouldn’t hurt for us to walk a bit instead of catching a bus. So we walked: to Liverpool Street; at 3 am; in November. This was my second big mistake, because when we finally arrived at our destination we were hungry, and tired, and freezing.
Strike three of the evening was assuming that the trains, including the DLR, ran 24 hours. Because let me tell you, neither of us was happy to find out that we had to get a bus from central London the whole way back to Beckton.
London claims to be a 24 hour city and casually compares itself to larger American cities like New York and Los Angeles. But the major difference is that these cities do not lie down to sleep at night. By no means am I saying there is a shortage of clubs, bars, and pubs in London; but what is there to do here after the tube stops? Even in the blink-and-miss-it town that I come from (with a grand total population of 1,532), there are two convenience stores and a full sized supermarket which are always open. In the next town over, last call at the local is 5am and clubs don’t shut until 7am – and this is in the boondocks of Pennsylvania.
In London almost all clubs shut down by 3am, pubs rarely see midnight, and many restaurants won’t seat you after 10pm. It cuts much of the spontaneity out of the night life. Not to mention the satisfaction of eating something super-bad for you just before slinging yourself on the 4am subway for the ride home.
London between 3-5am is about as empty as a city with 9 million people can be. The club goers are on their way home, street sweepers are collecting the mess left behind, and even the kebab shops are flicking off their lights. It gives you an eerie feeling when you can walk right down the middle of Fleet Street and not even hear a motor. Seemingly, the only souls awake are the cab drivers, cleaners, and insomniacs.
Perhaps it will all change when the night tube is finally running. I’m so keen I would host the TFL-union talks myself, if it would do anything to get London’s 24-hour party started.