OPENER / ANDREW TUCK
Take to the streets
01
Well, that proved me wrong (certainly not a first). I admit it, I was sceptical that my home city of London would prove to be nimble and generous when it came to fresh ideas about getting its incredible restaurant scene not only back in business but making tasty profits too. However, there are lots of signs that the city could be on the cusp of doing some great things. Landlords and restaurateurs in Soho, for example, are campaigning hard for the neighbourhood to be temporarily pedestrianised this summer to allow restaurants to head outdoors with their tables and chairs. And I hope that this happens.
Sure, we don’t have the most predictable weather – but a cold trickle of rain running down the back is rarely enough to put a Londoner off their veggie burger. Not only is this a chance for restaurants to obey the physical-distancing rules and still have a buoyant business, it’s the sort of spontaneous urbanism that makes people love their city afresh.
A couple of years ago we reported on the story of Liberty Bridge in Budapest. When traffic was stopped from using the crossing because of roadworks, people spied an opportunity and took over the space. They came to drink beer, play music, do yoga. It was a pop-up strip of public realm that came free of charge to the city. People were excited about it. The authorities were initially a little unhappy about the land grab but now, every summer, the bridge is closed during weekends in July so that people can come linger – beer in hand.
It’s a project that I’ve talked about at urbanist conferences – when I’ve been wearing my presenter’s hat (jaunty, fetching, with a big feather) for M24’s The Urbanist, and it’s always the idea that people love the most because it’s simple, easy to replicate and gratis.
And this is what London – and numerous other cities – have as a trick up their mayoral sleeves this summer: the chance to hand over some powers, to loosen the restraints on planning and trust people to do good. Yes, there are fire and safety regulations to keep in place but some spontaneous, temporary, experimental urbanism might not only save the hospitality sector but it could take away the pain and loss of the pandemic and leave people looking back on 2020 as the year when their city was at its very best. And a lot of people will be in a physically distanced queue to toast that.
02
I remember being about 10 years old, in a rehearsal for the school’s Christmas show. I was in the chorus and the teacher started asking for various rows to fall silent, then for various children to keep schtum. Suddenly I was the only person singing and I just knew that this was going to be the kids’ version of being plucked out of the obscurity of the chorus line to secure a starring role. Except that the teacher said, “Andrew, could you sing a little quieter, please.” My singing career has never recovered. I am the only person I know to have won £50 for the worst voice of the night at a restaurant opening and my karaoke appearances require a duet partner capable of drowning me out.
But on a street in my neighbourhood a man called William Spaulding has been leading alfresco singalongs on Thursday evenings. At first they were a prelude to the clapping for National Health Service staff (Great Ormond Street children’s hospital is mere metres away) but even though the clapping has now stopped, the singing has continued. You get 30 minutes of belters.
Mr Spaulding is the chorus director at the Royal Opera House and this week some of its singers came to join in (or rather lead the whole affair). I sang along and videoed snippets on my phone. I played them back afterwards and was slightly horrified at the singer who was clearly ruining proceedings. You should have heard what he did to “Hey Jude”. And “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”. I would promise to be a quieter presence next week but it’s an oddly cathartic moment. So sorry.