Londoner Dina Begum ventures beyond the M25 and discovers a lot about her home city in the process.
There comes a day in every Londoner’s life when they realise that London is not only the capital but a small country in itself.

A small country with its own language, mode of dress, protocols and pastimes. One minute we’re happily avoiding eye contact with fellow commuters while squashed to within an inch of their faces and the next we’re telling a sweet old granny to effing hurry up at the pedestrian crossing. We’re also fearful when we venture outside the M25 - very aptly named the London orbital.

I don’t much like the countryside, or even places that resemble it in the slightest. For example very large parks where you can’t see the traffic and quiet roads that seem post apocalyptic. And if I do decide to leave my lovely London it happens to be either a holiday abroad or to visit relatives. And visiting relatives in the Asian sense usually equates to a housebound visit where loving members of your extended family tie you to a sofa and practice force feeding you. This behaviour usually blanks out what’s beyond the house itself and curbs any tree-hugging impulse you may have. So, much to my own surprise I decided to join my siblings on a drive to Buckinghamshire one summer evening to visit our uncle.

It didn’t take even an hour. Suddenly a wild sense of panic overtook me. Where were we? All these massive trees and animals I hadn’t known existed in the United Kingdom suddenly popped up making chirping and whistling noises. I could almost hear a nature show voiceover recounting the eating habits of racoons. ‘Are you sure we’re going the right way?’ My sister and I asked my brother and being a boy he told us to stop being silly – the Sat Nav was directing us. Another five minutes later even he was on board when our car slowed on a narrow two way street. The thought of a chainsaw-yielding Jason type made me urge my brother to hurry up and drive. Worse still what if our car broke down right here? As my brother would go and seek help in the endless forest my sister and I would suddenly hear sounds like that urban legend about the bobbing head on the hood of the car.

Slowly the lights disappeared and enormous trees arched over us like menacing hands. A deep silence fell as we saw something move up ahead, praying that the car would not break down, would not break down. Something strange and sinister was looming up ahead. What could it be? Maybe it was Jason but a high tech chainsaw with shining lights on it! ‘It’s just a car!’ My sister breathed and we all burst out laughing, feeling like fools. Of course! Haha! In fact it was the mild glare of oncoming headlights dancing in the distance like ghostly figures.

Huge scare over, we approached our final destination shaken and impatient. And here started the real foreignness that we weren’t thinking of encountering. A middle-aged couple giving way with a very polite nod of the head as we silently swore at them to get a move on and the smiles that accompanied the nods had me really thinking I was in another country. Then there were the foxes taking a leisurely stroll under the streetlamps unfazed by humans in their midst. Although this was technically Greater London and on the underground map, it felt light years away. I mean who ever heard of such decorum at ten o’clock at night? Perhaps it had something to do with the demographics of the locality. I was pretty certain that no one under fifty lived there.

On the way back home I clutched the figs my uncle’s neighbour had given us in absolute awe. These were the sort of neighbours he knew by name and would stop and chat to almost every day. Not a very common occurrence in London where you were considered community spirited if you knew the gender of your neighbour. These fig-giving types were definitely a pleasant change from the mass of abrasive Londoners who recoil at good mornings from strangers and think nothing of maiming you with an elbow during rush hour.

As we would our way out of the dark roads, I lowered my window and focused on the strange sight of sparkling stars in the midnight sky. Actual stars and not poor imitations blurred out by smog obscured city lights. As nice as our visit was we all sighed in relief as we spotted the signs to London. Home sweet home.