I’m sorry to remind you, but it’s been just over five years since the pandemic forced London to close. Life as we knew it was put on pause, and as we inched closer to pressing the play button, some believed that the years after would resemble this century’s equivalent of the roaring twenties. In their optimism, they believed that London would receive a much-needed shot in the arm: economically, creatively – even spiritually.
Adorable thought, wasn’t it? Half a decade later, instead of economic prosperity we’re in the throes of a cost-of-living crisis. A thriving creative scene? Forget it. Any jobs that survived the pandemic are now under threat from artificial intelligence. A hedonistic lifestyle is something I dream of on a Saturday night as I sip a pint that cost me close to £8, in a venue that can’t stay open long past midnight because the residents of the nearby exorbitant glass tower don’t like noise.
