It’s midday on Friday and Heathrow’s Terminal 2 is bustling with waves of arrivals from the US, Canada, Ireland, Portugal and the Nordics. There are no snaking queues, no gridlock at the automated passport gates, and everything seems to be running like it should at a large global hub – passengers shuffling and striding along, planes landing and luggage hopefully bound for where it’s been tagged.
Beyond the customs corridor and one level down, the scene is rather different. I consider taking the Heathrow Express but, given the crowds pouring into the capital to pay their respects to the Queen and all the people coming into London Paddington station, I opt for a taxi all the way into town and walk over to the rank. The queue is a bit longer than usual and seems to be moving in that slightly stop-start, stop-start manner that makes you wonder if many travellers leave their common sense at the baggage carousel. After a family from Kuwait creates a bit of chaos as they try to get a mountain of luggage into three taxis, it’s my turn and I thankfully get an old-fashioned London taxi, rather than a Mercedes van or one of those slightly out-of-scale electric beasts.
The journey starts in silence. I tell the driver where I’m heading but there’s no chitchat about the weather, where I’ve come from or why I’m in London. I open the window and breathe in the not-exactly-fresh air on the way out of Heathrow. As we lean into the roundabout and hit the motorway, I’m surprised by the lack of vehicles heading into London on a Friday afternoon. I’m tempted to ask the cabbie for his take on the light traffic but he doesn’t seem like the chatty type so I settle into answering emails, glancing up at approaching aircraft and plotting out the weekend ahead.
Off the motorway, the traffic has started to slow as the outside lanes in both directions are closed. It isn’t the traffic cones and flashing lights that make me peer out and pay attention but the appearance of vegetation. For the better part of three years I’ve noticed that the roads in and out of Heathrow (and, indeed, much of London) have become a tangled mess of grass, PET bottles, shredded plastic bags, sandwich wrappers, glass bottles and other items flung from passing vehicles. Less traffic during coronavirus also created opportunities for sprayers to cover fences and walls. In short, a thriving, living example of “broken-window syndrome”.
But today is different. The bushes, trees and grass look happier and, save for small shreds of paper and the odd cigarette butt, most of the rubbish is gone. Further along, there is a team with lawnmowers and weed-whackers thinning out the undergrowth and, on the other side of the road, another team is going about similar activities. “You do know what’s going on here, don’t you?” asks the cabbie, coming to life. “This is all about keeping up appearances because this is the route that most heads of state and royals will be using when they come into London.”
As we drive through Hammersmith, lampposts are being painted black, cherry-pickers are swinging about sawing off branches and smudged walls suggest that graffiti has recently been erased. “It’s a bit sad that it had to come to this, isn’t it?” asks the driver. “The poor Queen had to die to make people wake up and look around, and see how shabby things had become.” Has the driver somehow been reading my mind? Is he a regular listener of The Urbanist? “I couldn’t agree more,” I respond. “I’ve been having the exact same thoughts these past few years while making this journey.”
“It gives you hope, doesn’t it?” he says, gesturing at a young man with a paint roller on a long pole, covering a lamppost in glossy black. “If we put our minds and muscle into it, we can make things better.”
For the rest of the journey, we chat about the weekend ahead (he says that he isn’t going to work over the coming days) and his hopes for what might come next. Is this a necessary wake-up call? Is this extraordinary mobilisation of bureaucracy, machinery and manpower just the symbol that the nation and world needs to see? “I hope that the Queen’s looking down and smiling because people are getting off their arses and making this a better-looking place – and hopefully not just the places where the TV cameras will be focused.”