Perhaps it was just the weekend that I chose to go to London, but my overwhelming impressions of London (other than the famous Brown Brick) was the stifling, repugnant heat of the tube, and the black dust pollution throughout the centre - leaving you parched and desperate for quiet, cool, and some form of / any form of thirst-quencher - and the shattered longing of stranded commuters gazing with blank envy at other platforms and other stops, where trains and buses are running on time. As they wait for transport, which, it is becoming increasingly apparent, may never come. At least not in time for the next connection, or that all important meeting, or just quite simply, to get the hell away from 'here'.
Oh the Glory of the London Underground: all the pushing and shoving and hurrying that goes with that desperate need to be somewhere other than 'here'. All the pushing and the sighing and the elbows and the rolling eyes and the gritted expressions - and the tragic American trying to 'grin and bear it' making little "we're all in this together" type jokes, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that the blurred commuters (who're just trying to get somewhere without the experience being too hideous) are envisaging her dire fate...
Having said which, I thoroughly enjoyed my time in London - just not the ridiculous amount of time spent crammed onto Public Transport - or worse - waiting for Public Transport... It certainly helped that the weather was lovely - and much warmer than Glasgow.
Also noteworthy is the startling revelation I had one afternoon on the Picadilly Line - with the heat unbearable and the claustrophobic press of people - that (somewhat like Dorothey) "I want to Go Home!" and the home that I was thinking of was Glasgow...