Regents Canal

On a beautiful Sunday morning, I thought I would take myself to Islington to enjoy a calm morning stroll up Regents Canal. I don’t know why the Regent doesn’t possess the canal, just in case the absence of an apostrophe is offending you. As I took a deep breath and descended the dangerously steep incline down from the road and onto the canal, I reached into my bag to take out my camera. It felt lighter than usual, I’d left the battery out. I considered throwing myself into the algae-filled depths. You all deserve better than what I felt my aged iPhone 13 (in handsome dark green) could produce. But then I realised that being run over by a canal boat would be one of the more embarrassing ways to snuff it, and I walked on.

There is a great controversy regarding Regents Canal: should bikes be allowed? Let me explain. Imagine you’re walking, dowsed by the sun’s warm rays. Perhaps you’re listening to Lily Allen’s ‘Pussy Palace’ and wondering if watching Stranger Things now amounts to a political statement of support for David Harbour. Then out of nowhere, you’re hit at 18 miles per hour by a Lime Bike, ridden by a woman who is remarkable only for how narrow and rectangular her sunglasses are. The path is only 150cm wide, at best. There simply wasn’t room for the both of you. Maybe being hit was better, it is an exclusively destabilising feeling to think you hear something behind you, turn around only slightly, to see a bike just inches from your person. On the many occasions I have done this, I believe my reaction went something like when a cat sees a cucumber.

I think there is something rather marvellous about a canal lock. I wanted to write about the leadership of British engineering. How could Britain not have invented the lock? But actually it was invented in China and then invented again in Europe about 400 years later. Regardless, isn’t it magical that there remains today a community of people who know how to make a boat travel down these waterways? It is quite mesmerising to watch and excellent mostly for how deeply inefficient and slow it all is. Traversing the waterway is the lifestyle, there is no other way of thinking about it.

Back on dry land, Regents Canal is also where attractive people in the 25-35 bracket slowly drink a flat white and pretend to read Nietzsche. It’s as if once per week, Hinge spits out its greatest hits into reality and forces them to caffeinate. I really don’t know how anyone actually ends up sat at the small number of tables the limited cafes offer, on a Sunday morning. I’ve never seen an empty table in the 10 years I’ve been walking up and down this canal. Is it like Wimbledon, do you have to camp overnight?

The closer you get to Haggerston, the more the vibe shifts from ‘let’s go on 3 dates at Old Street Records and then never speak again’ to ‘I’ve done 7 degrees at University of the Arts London’. The headphones transition seamlessly from airpods pro to those wired over ear headphones that seemed quite cool in 2007. The fake sharks offered some interest. I was more motivated by the thought process they prompted: what if we introduced real sharks into the Regents Canal. It could re-balance the power dynamic between pedestrians and bikes, if all I had to do was push an obnoxious lime bike rider into the path of a great white.

I thought I’d do some research into the phenomenon of the houseboat. Apparently 10,000 people call a canal boat their primary home in London, a number that surged around COVID and the cost of living crisis (Cozzy Livs). As a person who considers themself to be tall, I know it’s not for me. I’m simply not interested in chemical toilets or developing lower back issues. I would like to learn how to operate a lock, but the yearning is not strong enough. Stop Fantasising About Living on a Houseboat read an article headline I found during my research. “I’m not”, I thought in reply.