Lockdown Letters: Finding hidden treasures in a ghost town

In the latest instalment in our series of thoughts and reflections during lockdown, Abha Shah finds a fresh appreciation for a deserted city

I've lived in my flat for three years, and everyone I know agrees: it's the best flat in London.

I mean, sure, it has its fair share of shortcomings: it’s miniscule, the kitchen is full of wonky cupboard doors and we do discover the occasional slug squatter, but my two flatmates and I are luckier than most to have a small garden inside an EC1 postcode. The location is the best part: a 10 minute walk north or east takes you to the buzz of Angel or Old Street; head south a mile and you're in the shadow of St Paul's, while a similar stroll west delivers you to Covent Garden's door. If you’re single and child-free, it's a fabulous place to live.

In times BC – Before Corona – it was always fairly quiet around here at the weekends, but the lockdown measures have transformed my corner of the city into a ghost town. While some of my friends left their dwellings for the comfort of their family homes, I stayed put. Suddenly I’m Kevin McAllister, and just as he found out, there's a certain thrill in finding yourself home alone.

I’m free to roam through a city liberated from crowds and noise on my daily state-approved walk. I’ve relaxed my hurried London march to the slow saunter of an Old West gunslinger, my mind’s eye conjuring a string of Loony Tunes-style tumbleweeds to skip across the deserted streets.

I’ve lived in London my whole life, but one of the things I love about it most is its endless capacity to surprise. It's amazing what you notice without the distraction of traffic and tourists – and I’m not just talking about headliners like Tower Bridge and Westminster. Relieved of bustle, the city’s finer details stand out: the quietly magnificent facade of Berwick House, just off Oxford Street, looks plucked from Diagon Alley with its curved corner rooms, columns and balconies. The bluebells bobbing happily around the base of the huge trees that line Theobald’s Road between Clerkenwell and Holborn. The eye-shaped clock of Moorfields Hospital, keeping watch over City Road.

I stop and stare in the stillness, admiring the quirks that make London the greatest city on Earth. In moments of extreme nerdiness, I look up facts about the more curious buildings, plaques and statues, safe in the knowledge there’s no chance of triggering pass-agg from other pedestrians. You can soak up London for as long as you like when there’s no one else to worry about.

Of course I miss my life before we were all plunged headfirst into this madness. But I’ll miss the certain silver linings that lockdown has revealed as well. The world will press play soon enough, and when it does I’ll look back at this wildly surreal time and remember when I was lucky enough to have London, her secrets and treasures, all to myself.

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