Central vs Suburbs- The Joy of the Noise of Central London

Moving to London, we notice the immediate side-effect of constant, round-the-clock noise. When choosing a place, many of us can be put off by the lack of the silence of the suburbs. None of us want to live next to a main road.

However, it is interesting that expensive, prime central locations also come with traffic, people and energy. This is a common complaint of many Londoners. But equally, there’s nothing like this to remind you that you are in the centre of the world. A few acclimatising sleepless nights and £800/month rent can seem just slightly more worthwhile when you know just outside your door lies mayhem, conversation, celebration and progress.

Sleepless in Central

I was fortunate that when I moved to study here, University College London had halls in Charlotte Street, parallel to Tottenham Court Road. I knew it was unlikely I would ever live so central again- with a W1 postcode and the Telecom Tower as my neighbour. The sound was constant. Ambulances to and from University College Hospital. Lines of taxis. Building works. Drunken revelry and broken glass. The recycling seemed to be collected at five in the morning with a crash that shocked me from sleep weekly.

The heating was permanently on so the window was always slit. The black grime that collected in the white frame didn’t look healthy. However, every one of these told me that all this was going on right below me. I could have been in New York, Hong Kong or another major urban city. I had come from a roomy semi-detached in the home counties to a confined cupboard five floors up a great concrete block: and I loved it.

Cities are all about construction and reconstruction. The unending soundtrack is of pneumatic drills and rollers. One day the police had taped off the block as a nearby crane had fallen down and was suspended by it’s safety wires! The outside road was repeatedly dug up and reburied throughout my stay.

 

On another occasion, I heard a gathering noise like an army from Lord of the Rings. Looking out of the window, the approaching sound materialised as the annual Santa pub crawl. The interesting and unusual literally passed by my doorstep. Come New Years Eve I could see the fireworks around the London Eye from the top floor. Months later I would pass by in the annual London Tweed Run cycle ride, a similar effect of hundreds of bells echoing through the street.

 

Quiet of Camden

In moving to Camden, it was still apparent that I was by a main road. Gone were the taxis, in were the silent Ubers hovering for clients. The Georgian terraces echoed the noise of dogs and the occasional dispute. Peace and quiet? The real noise was that of shared living. Doors slamming. The trips back and forth to the shared toilet. The stairs. Each time worrying my landlord would again knock to complain of the state of the kitchen. The fun and experience was only a short walk away or a bus into town. But it was no longer on my doorstep. If I were offered the same choice of ambulances and revelry in return for being right in the centre of the world, I would totally take it.

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