I've done many a daft thing in the name of journalism, and so presumed striking up random conversations with strangers on the tube wouldn't be too taxing.
Inspired by John Bishop's loneliness-combatting 'Say Hello' campaign, I headed down into the London Underground for an afternoon to see what would happen if I put away my phone and simply asked people about their day.
To be clear, I'm from up North and was just stopping in the capital for a few days for work. For me, riding the tube makes for an exciting novelty rather than a dull everyday experience.
Although I expected some shyness and pushback, I naively imagined an equal number of people would be keen to chat, or even open up a little.
It turns out that we humans just aren't used to a stranger engaging us in conversation, suddenly emerging as a speaking, thinking person rather than just another body squeezed into a train carriage. I was startled by how many people genuinely jumped.
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I kicked things off at Canary Wharf, boarding the sparkling new Elizabeth Line. Given the general excitement over this commute-cutting new line, I assumed this would be a natural way to spark a bit of chat.
Selecting my first potential new pal, a polite-looking man in his early 40s, I expressed amazement at the gleaming condition of the carriage, telling him that I just couldn't 'believe how lovely it was in comparison to older trains'.
In return, he offered a nervous laugh, but thankfully appeared more surprised than annoyed. At this point, I hadn't built up enough hard-won confidence to press on, and so awkwardly slunk off at Whitechapel.
I was aboard another tube within minutes, seeking out my next target with an intensity that made me feel rather like Joe Goldberg from You. After noticing a sign advising against excessive staring, I toned things right down.
My next choice was a friendly-looking man in a smart suit of around 60ish. Again, I voiced wonderment at how comfortable the new trains were, and he very patiently told me that, yes, it was a new train.
I tried to tug on a conversational thread by telling him that I wasn't a Londoner myself so wasn't at all familiar with the various train lines. I received an amicable, yet ultimately disinterested smile in return. It was time to cut the train chat unless I ran into Francis Bourgeois.
I hopped off at Farringdon and started in the opposite direction towards Shenfield. This time around, I looked out for curious things about my fellow passengers, hoping for a full-blown scuba diving suit or pack of historical reenactors.
Although I did spot a man with a striking resemblance to Colonel Sanders, I twigged this was unintentional and so settled on a thirty-something woman with a jazzy yoga bag patterned with little dogs.
I - figuratively - pounced on this, asking her where she got her bag from (Yogi Bags if you're interested). I was being genuine, and think it showed, as she looked sincerely pleased with the compliment.
We spoke for a couple of minutes about the importance of giving compliments when you mean them, and she even told me to have a good day when she got off.
A couple in their late twenties settled into her place, and, buoyed up by my previous 'success', I instigated a moan about the rubbish WiFi. This led to a bit of back and forth about being northern in the big smoke which was pleasant enough.
Keen to shake up my approach, I switched to the Bakerloo line, wondering if I'd find a more sociable vibe elsewhere. Unfortunately, the screech of the older train was quite noisy, making it tricky to speak up in a way that felt natural and easy-going.
I spotted two American women around my age with a large suitcase each, looking as though they were heading off on an adventure. I figured they wouldn't mind a bold opener.
"Are you off anywhere fun, girls?" I heard myself say, loudly, before my embarrassment trigger could catch up.
Their exchanged look was one of complete alarm. One simply replied, 'oh', while the other said they were just over from the US. I told them that I too was over for the week too, but, sadly, they didn't care.
I couldn't get off fast enough as the awkward silence lingered on and on. Hopefully, I at least gave them a taste of British eccentricity.
After circling the Bakerloo Line red-faced for a bit, I soon plucked up the courage to speak to a kind lady of about 70, asking her straight up how her day was going.
A long-time Londoner, she sympathised with how confusing the tube could be for outsiders but, as she was retired, she no longer cared too much about getting to one place at a particular time.
Another lady, the proud owner of a very sweet dog called Charlie, was also up for a quick natter, as was the mum of an adorable one-year-old boy, Alex.
A fun-loving Swedish family with a wonderful array of backpacks was also more than happy to tell me about their plans for museum visits.
Eventually, I returned to the office, surprised at how difficult it feels to put yourself out there so publicly, to break a silence previously punctuated by the sound of the tracks, or announcements.
June will mark Eden Project Communities' Month of Community in the UK, with Bishop's Say Hello project being a prominent feature.
Explaining where his inspiration sprung from in a YouTube vid, Bishop said: "It feels to me like the days of saying hello to strangers in the street, on a bus, or at the park have sadly pretty much become a thing of the past.
"Most of us have spent too much time on our own over the past two years or so and now is the moment to get back out there; make connections with people young and old, near or far. The ‘Say Hello’ campaign is all about making it that little bit easier to just, well… ‘Say Hello’."
It's often difficult to admit when you're feeling lonely, despite this being such a common emotion. Many of us know all too well how a kind word or well-intended compliment can brighten an otherwise difficult day, and yet so often we hold back when offering our own, afraid of being vulnerable.
I doubt this is an exercise I'd carry out on a daily basis, and would never continue to push a conversation on someone who wanted to keep to themselves.
However, it did make me think about how unpractised we are when it comes to opening ourselves up to such impromptu chinwags, which can indeed make us feel like part of a community even in the largest of cities.
I also reckon I'll continue to strike up the odd conversation when it feels natural to do so, temporary embarrassment be damned, and will reach out if I see someone who looks in need of a commute-length friendship.
I will however make sure to keep the train chat to a minimum.
Do you have a community-related story to share? Email us at julia.banim@reachplc.com
