The roar of the crowd – from the Doctor

On Sunday for the very first time I did a Christmas lights walking tour in London. Regent Street, Carnaby Street, Covent Garden, Seven Dials: a 3 mile race against the clock (the guide had another walk to do straight after ours) dodging through crowds, crossing roads thick with traffic, trapped in a wodge of people as we pressed through Covent Garden, and for me avoiding Leicester Square altogether by going around it and meeting the rest of the group on the other side.

It was loud, intense and glittery. There were fabulous lights, though we didn’t always have time to stop and stare. The priority was focusing on the short guide waving his flashing hat in the air. If you got lost there was no hope. Like that scene from War of the Worlds. You’d be scooped up by the crowd, carried off against your will, and never heard of again.

And this was after arriving in London and finding the roads blocked, police everywhere, and the distant chanting of a 100k strong crowd on the march demonstrating about the war.

The very next day, having chaired a panel on AI at a conference, I walked back to Waterloo with a friend while a fleet of cars drove past honking horns and waving huge flags, a burst of fireworks exploded in front of us, and we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of another demonstration. Police were kettling people on the right, and a huge number of police – maybe a hundred – more than I’ve ever seen together at once – were gathered on the left. This is when being an invisible woman is a gift. We just said “excuse me” politely and quickly slipped across the road. I don’t think anyone even saw us. It was like we’d popped on Frodo’s ring and escaped.

This weekend I am spending a few days in one of my favourite places, Bath. I am staying at Chippenham only 10 minutes by train from Bath. Easy peasy? Unfortunately not. This is the very weekend for train strikes across the country. There I stood on Bath station wanting a train back to Chippenham after 10pm last night.

The indicator boards and my app kept changing – times flickering back and forth. A booming voice saying “the indicator boards are not correct” and then giving muffled instructions. The indicator boards changing again and then saying in huge letters CORRECTION. Was the next train going to Chippenham? Or was it Weston Super Mare? Or was it not coming at all? Impossible to tell. It was minus 3 degrees.

There were police guarding both platforms as they filled with confused and noisy shoppers. Bizarrely noisy. Just through chatting. The chattering swelled all around so that you couldn’t hear any of the announcements. The crowd was quite happy. Not aggressive. One man was dancing right behind me with his eyes closed. But just very loud.

Even Farnham, which I visited on Thursday, seemed more intensely crowded than it should be. Cars filled the streets in all directions, and as I stood waiting to cross six lanes of traffic to get from the station to the centre I thought: I don’t want this. This is not how I want to live. This is not a better planet. This is not progress. And I thought maybe the dystopia is already here.

I think I need to get back to Trosa.