The perils of trying to make any trip by public transport in summer could apply to the metro/underground system in any city, really. But London is a city that keeps its residents permanently on edge as soon as they step out of their front door. Travelling on one of our fine Underground trains is a risky experience at the best of times, as I’ve explained before. Doing it in summer adds the adrenaline rush of maybe being snapped at by short-tempered, overdressed commuters regretting their socks.
Mind you, it’s definitely better to be overdressed and a bit flushed than wearing a string bikini on the Metropolitan line. There’s something about a whiff of sunshine that brings out the exhibitionists. I say the following for your own safety as well as everyone else’s: you do not want to put bare skin on a Metropolitan line train seat. Put a sarong on or something.
You’re going to sweat. There’s no avoiding that one – but at least wear something you weren’t sweating into yesterday. Have you ever heard of the ‘three-shirt day’? The temperature in London doesn’t often necessitate changing clothes at every meal, but putting on the trousers you were melting into 2 days ago is just plain inconsiderate to everyone else.
If you are feeling too warm, don’t fan yourself with a copy of the Metro, or that City AM thrust into your hands outside the station by someone in an unusually padded jacket for the time of year. Not only is waving your arm in front of your face to make a breeze suspected to probably make you feel even warmer, you might well smack another frazzled person on the nose. You’re not training a dog to poop in the designated corner of the garden.
And don’t think the vents in the train carriage are going to help you out much, either. The first day it hit 26 degrees this summer, I hopped on a bus and the heating was still on. All of the windows were open and we were baking alive. Making for the nearest air vent in a train carriage only to find it’s acting as an industrial hairdryer is the chance you take.
I would say don’t travel at all, but if you live out somewhere like Ruislip or Uxbridge then venturing into a boiling sardine can on the Central line might be vaguely more appealing.
