London, No Place for Old People or the Poor. Harry Leslie Smith's reflections on the Capital City.
The capital is a cruel city for the elderly if they are not in the moneyed 1%. Old age has separated me from much of the city that once gave me happiness – but it doesn’t need to be this way.
When I was younger, a visit to London always charged my soul with a sense that anything was possible and that all could be overcome through pluck, determination and defiance in the face of insurmountable odds. I guess I felt that way because I was first introduced to London during the second world war.
Back then the city behaved like the capital of a great nation should during a time of conflict: with dignity and perseverance. London stood as a beacon of hope to all of its inhabitants and citizens of Britain. Both young and old felt connected to London’s destiny and that meant everyone believed they were an integral part of this dynamic city. Everyone put their shoulder to the wheel to help London survive those dark days.
Time has moved on and London in 2016 is not threatened by Hitler’s bombs. But other threats do imperil this city’s reputation as a metropolis which can be considered both a beacon for excellence and an inclusive home to all its residents regardless of wealth, ability or age. London – like the world – has become more polarised by wealth and status than it has since the days of my boyhood in the late 1920s and 30s. Now London venerates youth and elitism rather than the common-sense wisdom that can be acquired through a long life.
Moreover, London has lost its sense of compassion when it comes to those who are most vulnerable, especially the old who are considered past their prime and perhaps even too costly a burden for a place that houses more millionaires per mile than any other city in the world. It is probably why London has become a lonely desert for the elderly if they do not belong to the moneyed class of the 1%.
Austerity has diminished the opportunity of the young and shortened the lives the old
Each time now when I return to London I feel my age – and feel the same loneliness that many seniors now endure in cities flung far and wide across Britain. Everything just a gets a little harder as you age and London has become more difficult for me to navigate. Old age has become like an advancing rip tide that separates me from so much of London that once gave me so much happiness.
At 93, my legs don’t work as well as they did when I was in my late 80s and could still roam across the city via the tube, like a commuter intent on travelling to many destinations during the day and returning to my residence at night for a drink in a familiar local. Now for long jaunts I must ride in a black cab confined to roads blocked like the arteries of a fast food hedonist. Sometimes, if I have an assistant, I can move along the pavements to my appointments or enjoy a park made splendid by the warmth of the summer sun, in a transport wheelchair that trundles against the afternoon crush of pedestrians impatient for speed and right of way.
However, outside of the tourist traps and far away from the haunts of the well-to-do, I find pavements broken and roads difficult to cross. Moreover, adequate housing for anyone on a fixed income – whether it’s benefits, a flat wage or a pension – is in short supply because Boris Johnson’s theory that the market will provide, if gently coaxed, has yielded only golden eggs for developers.
London is one of the richest cities in the world – where 80 of Britain’s 117 billionaires live in an opulence that would put Mayan kings to shame – and yet every year more than 1,000 people over the age of 65 die due to cold weather and improper lodgings. Moreover, the life expectancy for a pensioner can vary by close to eight years between London’s richest and poorest borough, according to Age UK London.
It seems abundantly clear that in London, austerity has diminished the opportunity of the young and shortened the lives of the old. Even libraries – the life blood of any community – have been savagely cut in many London boroughs leaving senior citizens with one less free space to gather, learn and socialise. London may be a great city to live in if you are an elderly member of the elite. But for everyone else it is a trap where upon retirement you must sell your home, if you are lucky enough to own, and move on to greener pastures – or if you are a renter with few options and many connections to this city, you must remain like the poor of yesteryear, watching a pension that might do you well in Halifax only stretched to the third week of the month.
I am always painfully reminded that there is little dignity in old age because as the sun begins to set on our lives the body begins to decay. But I am more disheartened when I encounter impediments set by business or government against the elderly or those with mobility issues. London is sometimes the cruellest of cities for the old because in the endless need of its residents to raise brass to keep the fires lit, there is no patience for the elderly or those who need special attention. Not long ago I visited a pub, near the Wallace Collection, where I was told that even though I was sitting in a wheelchair I would have to walk up many flights of stairs if I wanted a sandwich because they would not bring it to me on either the patio or the ground floor bar.
Sadly this arrogance of youth and indifference to impecunious old age inhabits all facets of London and unless this changes the city will become more hostile to seniors who are not rich. We have to remember that old people like me, like your parents, grandparents, favourite teachers, first bosses make communities more vibrant, more civilised and more alive because we are not only this country’s history – we are your future.
London may become a city shorn of any diversity because extreme wealth will drive all those out but the rich and those who serve them. It would be a great tragedy if London lost its elderly not through the natural passage of time but through the brute ugliness of a one-sided economy. We have to remember that London without old people isn’t a city, it’s just a factory floor, a place where you work and shop, with no history, no past or future, just an endless present tense in pursuit of money.
As always, thank you for reading my sub stack posts The above essay was from Harry Leslie Smith written in 2016.Your subscriptions to Harry’s Last Stand keep the legacy of Harry Leslie Smith alive and me housed which is always a struggle during this cost of living crisis era. So if you can join with a paid subscription which is just 3.50 a month or a yearly subscription or a gift subscription. I promise the content is good, relevant and thoughtful. Take Care, John
