Where else is there such a restricted socio-economic dynamic within one of the planet's major capitals? As I rumbled through Clapham Common on the 35 bus this morning, on either side of the road there was a seemingly-infinite sea of identical 20-35 year olds nursing their Pinot Grigio hangovers in the Sunday sun. Dressed in a uniform of cropped jeans, brand new vintage-look T-shirts and designer sunglasses, they sprawled with their Innocent smoothies, Starbucks frappacinos and pots of red pepper humous, reading the colour supplements and planning into which of the identity-free bars they would waft later. There wasn't an elderly person in sight. It was as though Club 18-30 had commandeered this area of the city and filled it with as many vapid, personality-free, middle class humans as possible. Got an opinion? Keep well back. Vote in the last election? Sorry, not for you. Sporting clothes that reveal the merest hint of individuality? Stay away.As the train home departed Clapham Junction I noticed that the ages, tastes and races of the people surrounding me in the carriage were back to reflecting the normal variety that we are lucky to have around us in the rest of this splendid metropolis and I felt the claustrophobia ebbing away.
I won't claim that I don't own cropped jeans or enjoy the odd dip into a chickpea melange - but I hope I'll never opt out of diversity. This growing tendency towards mediocrity and love of similarity is weeding out original thought - once again, a situation created and cultivated by the nation's media and government for their own benefits. We're becoming a nation of lemmings and I find it depressing in the extreme. And if there's one thing I don't need, it's another complaint. I'd emigrate if I didn't think it was just as problematic everywhere else.
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