I've got a confession to make; I'm a massive post code snob. Within London if I see an SE or an NE prefix at the end of an address my heart starts to beat faster, I get sweaty palms and I hold my wallet close. You can imagine then the horror that seeing such postcodes as LS, L, and even (shock horror) M used to strike into my heart. Like most Londoners I have long laboured under the misconception that the world ends at the M25. Being born and brought up in the capital city does (I'm slightly ashamed to say) inculcate a certain sense of "number one, so why try harder". London has a vice like grip on almost every creative and political sphere in the country it seems. Why would we want to take the time to go and visit our coal covered, slightly primitive cousins in the north?
But hold on people, It's not 1982 anymore. We're not at war with Argentina, and a plummy woman with helmet hair and a penchant for stealing milk from school kids no longer governs our fair isle. Times have well and truly changed, and where once the views held by Londoners of 'oop north' may, sadly, have found some basis in truth, happily that's no longer the case. The north is alive and kicking.
With the exception of Manchester, which is just an out and out toilet staffed by some of the most revolting toilet attendants I've ever had the misfortune to take an e-coli laden towel from (I know, I went to uni there), northern cities have been given a massive facelift and are sticking two fingers up at their grand old southern cousin. The arts are flourishing, new, sexy restaurants are opening left, right and centre, and the nightlife is going off.
I've just got back from a visit to Sheffield and I had so much fun I can't tell you. Everybody in London is so busy and self important that come the weekend, half the time, people are so busy bitching and whinging about their week that they drag that shitty attitude out with them on a Saturday night. Not so in the north. Yes, everybody's probably had a crappy week up there too, but come Saturday night problems are forgotten and everybody is out to do one thing and one thing only; enjoy themselves. I used to sneer at the attitude of going all out on a Saturday night, but now I ask myself who's having more fun? Us down here in London trying oh so hard to be cool and look down our noses at everyone else, or our friends in the north who just go out and have a good time? Yes, you see a lot of special sights in northern city centres of a weekend (Liverpool and Leeds in particular provide endless banter with an army of backcombed, orange, blond things skipping about), but you also see a hell of a lot of hot people who put a lot of time and effort into getting ready before they went out. This is something the identikit army of Ben Sherman shirt, jeans, trainer combo London guys could learn from.
I'm going to really start making the effort to get out and see more of the UK. I'm not just talking about cities too. This country has some of the most beautiful countryside anywhere (a jaunt in the peak district last weekend helped open my eyes to this). For a very long time I've been guilty of looking outside the UK (to the sun) when I want a break. But no longer! I've decided 2012 is going to be my year for UK exploration. There are so many beautiful places outside this heaving metropolis to see and enjoy. I'm digging out my Hunters and my Barbour jacket as we speak. I intend to take full advantage of our country from now on, and have many more attitude-less nights out in the fair north. Come on people, get up the M1. You might just like it...
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