… as observed on the No 134 bus.
Heading for yesterday’s meeting, I was at the back of the bus and surrounded by a group of four girls, three of them perhaps 12, with a younger sister of 10 or so – rather excited to be out on what was probably one of their first excursions on their own. They were scrubbed, neat-haired, tastefully dressed in what were certainly expensive labels.
They were excitedly having staring competitions with each other, innocently hanging off the railings (the bus was almost empty for much of the trip), having a great display of youthful high spirits.
They probably go to private schools, and if not to posh, hard-to-get-into, all-girls’ public ones.
Then at Kentish Town another group of youngsters got on – about the same age, but mixed-sex, two boys and two girls who didn’t look like siblings – much less groomed, wearing nylon parkas rather than woolen coats.
So far as I could tell the two groups didn’t know each other – indeed it would be surprising if they did – but there was instant, aggressive interaction.
One of the boys from the new group – a boy carrying a considerable amount of weight – came up and yelled a bit of abuse at them, and this new group took control of the prime space around the exit, while the girls shrank back to be around me and hardly said a word until they all got out at Archway, the younger one looking particularly anxious.
Class conflict starts young in north London.
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