I don’t get scared in London. Not really. If you know a place well — and I’ve lived here most of my life — you learn to avoid the places where danger lurks. You learn to body swerve the West End at midnight at the weekend, know which dodgy pubs to avoid, and which Tube lines to skip at the wrong end of the day. There are postcodes I feel uneasy in, so I leave them alone, just as I would the wrong walk home.
When you know somewhere, you become totally prescriptive about how you navigate it. So consequently, I never put myself in danger. Not through choice, anyway.
