Extra! Extra! – Tube Etiquette, Ukraine, etc.

London calling.
London Walks connecting.
This… is London.
This is London Walks.
Streets ahead.
Story time. History time.

A very good afternoon to you, London Walkers.
Wherever you are.

It’s Tuesday, February 24th, 2026.
And here it is.
Here’s a top up. A second daily London fix.

And, yes, what a curious title, eh. Extra! Extra! Tube Etiquette, Ukraine, etc.

Well, bear with me. All will be revealed.

And I needs must say before we go any further, this one’s very personal.

It won’t seem like that at first, but trust me, it’ll get there.

Ok, tube etiquette first.

Some years ago, Time Out – or Private Eye, or one of those gleefully impish London rags – had a little outbreak of mischief. They ran a spoof competition. The brief was simple and wicked: what is the worst possible piece of advice you could give an unsuspecting tourist about London customs?

The winning entry was a small work of comic genius.

It ran something like this:

“When boarding a London Underground carriage, it is customary to walk the length of the train, shake hands with fellow passengers and enquire politely after their wellbeing.”

Now, to the uninitiated, that may sound merely odd.

To a Londoner, it reads like a social horror story.

Because the first and last commandment of the Underground is beautifully, silently understood: we do not engage. Not at eight thirty in the morning. Not at six in the evening. Not unless the carriage is filling with water or someone’s hair is demonstrably on fire.

The Tube is a masterpiece of choreographed mutual non-recognition. Eyes lowered. Bodies angled. A whole carriage of people united in the courteous pretence that everybody else has dematerialised.

Which is why the thought of some bright, well-meaning visitor stepping aboard at Green Park and then – heavens preserve us – proceeding down the carriage with an outstretched hand and a hearty “And how are you today?” is almost too delicious to contemplate.

You can see it, can’t you.

The flicker of alarm.
The rapid study of shoes.
The sudden, intense fascination with the Tube map.
Forty Londoners simultaneously perfecting the ancient urban art of Not Being There.

It would leave the carriage not scandalised so much as… dumbfounded. Socially winded. Briefly unsure whether the laws of public behaviour had been quietly repealed while nobody was looking.

Which, of course, is precisely why the joke lands so beautifully.

In London, friendliness on public transport is not illegal.

It is simply… not the done thing.

Perfectly within your rights.
Wildly outside the bounds of civilisation.

Now look, here’s the great thing – or one of the great things – about being a foreigner in London.

You’re on a longer leash than the natives. You can’t be expected to invariably know what the done thing is. So you get cut some slack that would never be accorded to a fellow Brit.

The great novelist, short story writer and essayist V. S. Pritchett – author of what I think is the greatest book ever written on London – London Perceived it’s titled, you must read it if you haven’t come across it – anyway, the great V. S. Pritchett nailed this matter. He said, “although London landladies are Britannias armed with helmet, shield, trident, and have faces with the word ‘No’ stamped like a coat of arms on them, the place is sentimental and tolerant. The attitude to foreigners is like the attitude to dogs: dogs are neither human nor British, but so long as you keep them under control, give them their exercise, feed them, pat them, you will find their wild emotions are amusing, and their characters interesting. They even have their own sometimes enviable life; they assume your habits and – such are the pleasures of British loneliness – they become a man’s best friend. The Bayswater landlady gazes at her spaniel and says with proud complacency, ‘He’s trying to say something.’ So is the foreigner. After a year or two of resentment, the foreigner recognises that London is a place where we are all mongrels together, mainly on leash, but let out for short, mad daily scampers in the park.”

Now knowing how to comport yourself on public transport – what’s the done thing and isn’t the done thing – that’s something that comes quickly. But I’m not a native. I’m a Yank. Even though I’m also British and have lived here all my adult life, over half a century. And being a Yank means I’ve got a sort of built-in Get Out of Jail Card. I get cut some slack that a native Briton wouldn’t be privileged with. And in terms of public transport, I quite often do the thing that’s never done. I talk to strangers. I remember the breakout day. It was quite a few years ago. I was on a 16 bus. A gentleman of colour sat down beside me. And I remember thinking about it, ‘this gentleman and I might well be sitting side by side for the next half hour or so, damnit, I’m going to talk to him. Why shouldn’t I?’ So I introduced myself. And we got chatting. I swear it was my best bus ride ever. He was from Africa. I forget which country. We talked about our children. We were two dads, very proud of our kids. And what especially delighted me, he said he had six daughters and each of them was named after a gemstone: Saphire, Ruby, Diamond, and so on. I would have missed out on that if I’d done the British thing – the London thing – and kept schtum.

Anyway, a couple of hours ago Mary and I were at John Lewis, the Department Store. And after our shopping we headed to the John Lewis Jamie Oliver cafe for a coffee and a quick bite. Two tables were available. One for just two people. The other a six-seater. And Lady Luck was looking after me. I plumped for the six-seater. A few minutes later a handsome middle-aged couple pitched up and asked us, ‘would it be all right if we shared your table? There are four of us. The other two – a young man and a young woman in their 20s – I thought at first they were probably the son and daughter of the middle-aged couple. Turns out they weren’t, they were friends. With a big shared interest.

Anyway, being on a longer leash, I did it, I spoke to them. I said, “are you English?” The man said, well, yes and no. I was born here but my ancestry is Ukrainian. This is my wife Anthea, she’s English. And Alexis and – [I’ve forgotten the young woman’s name] – are Ukrainian, they’ve been here a few years.” And well, one of those so-called desultory chats followed. I asked them what they did. The man – Danny – said, “we’re musicians.” And then Anthea said, ‘well, actually, I’m a dancer.’ And of course I piped up and said, ‘oh Mary’s a dancer.’ And then Mary said, ‘as a matter of fact, my dance teacher, Tamara, is Ukrainian.’ And at that jaws dropped open across the table from us. Anthea said, ‘oh my goodness, my dance teacher is Ukrainian and her name is Tamara. Is it possible?’ Turns out it was entirely possible. And the six of us were away. The back and forth ranged further afield and it turned out that they’d come from a fund-raising concert – a charity do – for Ukraine. Because of course today is the fourth anniversary of the invasion.  They mentioned the demonstration at 6 pm in Trafalgar Square. And that did it. My next thought was a three opening bars job. I thought I’m going home and I’m going to put out a podcast about what’s just happened here. And I’m going to ring the bell for the demonstration. It’d be a good thing for some of the rest of us to show support for, maybe go along, help to swell their numbers, a small act of solidarity. Second bar – second thought – ‘I’m going to ask Danny if he’ll let me interview him for London Calling.’ I did put the question and the answer was ‘yes’. So one of these days Danny will be here, talking about music, talking about himself, talking life in London, talking about his ancestral land. And the the third bar – the third thought – was ‘I’m going to ask them if it’s possible to do a Ukrainian London Walk and if it is and if one of them is willing to put it together and guide it we’ll do it as 100 percent charity walk, every penny it brings in will go to a Ukrainian charity of their choice.’

That was 30 minutes so very well spent. A London encounter. I’m not sure it could have happened anywhere else. Certainly nowhere else could three Ukrainians be asked to think about the possibility of doing a Ukrainian London Walk for a Ukrainian charity. On this day of all days, four years to the day after that wretched invasion kicked off.

But I’m going to end this by getting it into proper London Calling idiom. A few words about the demonstration tonight. Here goes.

This evening, Trafalgar Square won’t be its usual swirl of buskers, camera-toting visitors and Londoners cutting diagonally across the paving in purposeful haste.

Tonight it turns blue and yellow.

Four years on from the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, London’s Ukrainian community – old diaspora and new arrivals alike – gathers in the capital’s great civic theatre. Trafalgar Square has seen its share of history. Victory rallies. Political storms. Moments when London looks the world squarely in the eye and says: we’re paying attention.

This is one of those evenings.

They’ll come in from all over the capital.

From the long-established Ukrainian quarter around Holland Park.

From newer homes in Barnet, Ealing, Hounslow, Greenwich, Croydon.

Some arrived decades ago.

Some arrived with a suitcase and a story no one should ever have to tell.

Many will pass familiar London landmarks on their way in.

The Ukrainian Catholic Cathedral tucked quietly into Mayfair.

The Ukrainian Institute in Holland Park, where culture and politics now sit very firmly at the same table. Community halls and Saturday schools that rarely make the guidebooks but matter enormously if you know.

And then – Trafalgar Square.

By early evening the blue-and-yellow flags will start to appear. Then more of them. Then suddenly the whole great stone basin of the square begins to feel… different. More purposeful. More charged.

London does this rather well.

It absorbs the world’s stories.

And sometimes, on nights like this, it gives them a very large, very public stage.

Story time.

History time.

And very much – present tense.

You’ve been listening to
This… is London, the London Walks podcast.

Emanating from www.walks.com.

Home of London Walks, London’s signature walking tour company.
London’s local, time-honoured, fiercely independent, family-owned, just-the-right-size walking tour company.
And as long as we’re at it, London’s multi-award-winning walking tour company. Indeed, London’s only award-winning walking tour company.

And here’s the secret: London Walks is essentially run as a guides’ cooperative.

That’s the key to everything.

It’s the reason we’re able to attract and keep the best guides in London. You can get schlubbers to do this for £25 a walk. But you cannot get world-class guides – let alone accomplished professionals.

It’s not rocket science: you get what you pay for.

And just as surely, you also get what you don’t pay for.

Back in 1968 when we got started we quickly came to a fork in the road. We had to answer a searching question: Do we want to make the most money? Or do we want to be the best walking tour company in the world?

You want to make the most money you go the schlubbers route. You want to be the best walking tour company in the world you do whatever you have to do to attract and keep the best guides in London – you want them guiding for you, not for somebody else.

Bears repeating: the way we’re structured – a guides’ cooperative – is the key to the whole thing.

It’s the reason for all those awards, it’s the reason people who know go with London Walks, it’s the reason we’ve got a big following, a lively, loyal, discerning following – quality attracts quality.

It’s the reason we’re able – uniquely – to front our walks with accomplished, in many cases distinguished professionals:

By way of example, Stewart Purvis, the former Editor (and subsequently CEO) of Independent Television News.

And Lisa Honan, who had a distinguished career as a diplomat (Lisa was the Governor of St Helena, the island where Napoleon breathed his last and, some say, had his penis amputated – Napoleon didn’t feel a thing – if thing’s the mot juste – he was dead.)

Stewart and Lisa – both of them CBEs – are just a couple of our headline acts.

Or take our Jack the Ripper Walk. It’s the creation of the world’s leading expert on Jack the Ripper, Donald Rumbelow, the author of the definitive book on the subject.  Britain’s most distinguished crime historian, Donald is, in the words of The Jack the Ripper A to Z, “internationally recognised as the leading authority on Jack the Ripper.” Donald’s emeritus now but he’s still the guiding light on our Ripper Walk. He curates the walk. He trains up and mentors our Ripper Walk guides. Fields any and all questions they throw at him.

The London Walks Aristocracy of Talent – its All-Star Team of Guides – includes a former London Mayor. It includes the former Chief Music Critic for the Evening Standard. It includes the Chair of the Association of Professional Tour Guides. And the former chair of the Guild of Guides.

It includes a former Member of Parliament, three terms at Westminster, bringing first-hand experience of power, policy and political theatre to the very streets where it all played out.

It includes two barristers, three doctors, two geologists, a distinguished museum curator and a former Time out Editor.

It includes authors, historians, national journalists, a former London Museum archaeologist, and university professors (one of them an eminent Cambridge University paleontologist).

It includes a criminal defence lawyer, Royal Shakespeare Company and Royal National Theatre actors, and two professional photographers. And last but not least, the creme de la creme of top flight professionally qualified Blue Badge Guides, including a bevy of MVPs, Oscar winners (people who’ve won the big one, the Guide of the Year Award)… well, you get the idea.

As that travel writer famously put it, “if this were a golf tournament, every name on the Leader Board would be a London Walks guide.”

And as we put it: London Walks Guides make the new familiar and the familiar new.

And here’s the clincher. We’re playing at home.
London Walks is London-based. Period.

We’re not an impersonal, faceless platform run from halfway round the world. There’s no chatbot. No call-centre script. When you contact us, you reach a real person. A Londoner. Someone who actually knows the streets you’re about to walk.

That’s not a detail. That’s the difference.

And on that agreeable note… come then, let us go forward together on some great London Walks.

And that’s by way of saying, Good walking and Good Londoning one and all. See ya next time.