Classless or Classy Society? Postcode phenomena of London

Once upon a time there was such a dream called "classless society" where all people are truly equal. It never entirely came true because of many reasons.

Here I am not to give a boring lecture on sociology. But shortly, classifying makes controlling easier. You classify dishes, clothes, regions, areas, streets, military forces, academics, businesses and science. It is easier to set rules, policies, opportunities when you classify a society. And classlessNess prevents to create a classy society. Like in London.

London's classes are coded via post. This is a cliché that postcodes label people immediately. 4 letters 9 numbers draw a picture of your life. Have a look:

SE 16 - South East: You have an entry level job and poor digit salary. You prefer using bus pass. Your neighbours are some black families with cute kids.

SW 4 - South West: You like edgy night life and you've got more gay friends than straights. You've just been to a music festival last month. You live in London for over 5 years now. Still you get 2-digit salary.

E8 - East: Rundown buildings cost a fortune in the name of being "trendy". There is a high turn over in your neighbouring flat. They advertise their shared flat like this: "we are looking for a young professional. We like our privacy but we also enjoy a glass of red wine after a working day in the living room"

N4 - North: You feel quite uncomfortable after a late night out on the way home. You can hear 10 different languages on the streets. Hmmm.. nice kebab shops around. You know what? You are either an immigrant or an immigrant!

W8 - West: Well...if you happen to live there you wouldn't read this blog! you enjoy dancing in the same clubs as Prince Harry. so neexxt!

W5 - West: You have a decent job. You save money, go holidays 3 times a year. You take the tube on weekdays and drive outside London on weekends. You enjoy a bit quieter life. You're still single though.

NW3 - You have either a family that one of your kid is taking a gap year this year or have a degree and luck and been living in London for over 10 years now. 3-digit salary but no one knows how many asses you licked though.

A guide on how to spot a rogue!

10 ways to spot a wrong 'un



1. Has three mobile phones. The one supplied by work is silent. The other two ring constantly.

2. Takes a genuine interest in compliance seminars.

3. Once devised an accounting software programme.

4. Drinks with the IT department.

5. Buys a flat in the City- "to be near work".

6. Has developed unusual friendships with back-office people in Switzerland, with whom he goes on cycling holidays.

7. Is a bit too helpful. Always happy to take care of manual inputting jobs.

8. Is NEVER off sick.

9. Has geeky male friends and (solely) very attractive female ones.

10. Has a wing-mirror on his monitor(seriously people have these).



source: Evening Standard, Simon English column

NHS Tragedy

Today I understand once again that NHS is a useless system that only works for birth control, STDs, and cancer.

The whole idea is making things too complicated that you finally give up freaking bureaucracy and find your own way of recovering. Do you want to know how? Take a deep breath and read then:

Monday morning: I had hay-fever last Sunday after a tiring journey. I woke up sweating as if I attended a marathon Monday morning and called my GP (General Practitioner) GP is the doctor who you never meet but you have his name on all NHS documents. You can't reach him when you need him. You are periodically forwarded to a lot of useless nurses instead (there are always exceptions for sure!). You register with a different GP wherever you move in to so that they are aware of your existence, they can invite you for cancer scanning, they can give you thousands of condoms for free or prescribe contraceptions. Yes NHS is obsessed with birth control!

Anyway. GP gave me the "first available appointment" for Tuesday afternoon. I forgot to tell you. You have to make an appointment to see your doctor for a cold, flu etc. In the mean time you are on your own. When you finally get the chance to see your GP you mostly recovered or your medical condition is evolved. You would be survived on paracetamol's, hot tea with lemon or lemsips, reiki, pray, good will etc.

Tuesday morning: Hence I woke up Tuesday morning with an itchy eye. It was eye infection. However it was to take another 2 days to diagnose eye infection for NHS! Because GP said my temperature is fine, my tonsils look all right. I should be drinking lots of liquid and "two of my eyes are the same", no problem!

This "very scientific" explanation from my so-called GP did not impress me at all then I went to Boots to talk to the pharmacist. She said she couldn't give me antibiotics that I should see an optician for prescriptions. Then I googled my address and optician as key words and phoned the first result to make an appointment. Because my eye was getting painful, worse. Considering my job on TV, being applied make up on&off all the time with a swollen pink eye is the last thing I'd like to have nowadays!

Wednesday morning: My eye was swollen, pink, painful. I could see the infection behind my eye lid. I googled everything I diagnosed myself but all I needed was an antibiotic cream and a doctor with a degree who can prescribe it! My colleague David suggested me to go to eye hospital close to work instead of an optician. I phoned the optician to cancel the appointment. And he said he can refer me to the hospital. I should be seeing the optician first. After general check-up he'll refer me. I was helpless, in pain and in need of urgent solution in my long lunch break so that I could come back to work asap...

Optician checked my eyes. Without using computer-based system: I turned out to be "shirt-sighted" 0.50 both eyes, having very dry eyes needing urgent dehydration. AND after 45 minutes he asked for extra £15 to check my REAL problem, eye lid. He said this could be an allergy but he couldn't say anything. He referred me to an ophthalmologist in another eye hospital in Baker Street. And his mate was showing me frames for glasses. God sake I was trying lots of glasses as if my urgent problem was SEEING! I don't drive, I don't watch TV. The longest distance I look is the computer screen! Who cares being short-sighted when you have a painful infection inside your eye?!? I paid £40 for check-up, £30 for artificial tears for dehydrating my eyes, £90 for lenses, £160 designer's frame: I was robbed around £340. Still no diagnosis to my swollen eye. No solution. Nothing.

It took 1 hour to find the hospital. I waited 2 hours to be seen by a doctor. Apparently I was lucky because I had a referral from my optician otherwise they wouldn't see me that soon (!)

And guess what: Doctor diagnosed infection under eyelid, prescribed antibiotic cream for one week. He said it should get better, if not I should come back for a minor surgery to remove infection. Just like what I read online. He also said take paracetamol for pain just like any other doctor in this country. I went back to work, starving, carrying lots of papers in my hand, late for my afternoon job. eventually I bought the antibiotic cream costing only £5!

NHS is the system that you should fight with the help of your immune system. The only logic is take paracetamol, take days off, put your feet up, eat well and try to strengthen your immune system! Otherwise you are in trouble.

Look what London's done to us!

Look what London has done to us:

You had time to kill before, now you live your life as "an appointment-based system".

You've learnt not to open your umbrella for small drops since it can stop soon.

And you learnt not to open your heart too soon since you can find yourself as naked - metaphorically speaking.

You drink, you smoke and define yourself as a social drinker-smoker. This is how they call "shivering smoking" or "drinking in suits" outside huge City buildings and pubs.

You had a lunch break before, now you sneak and munch your sandwich in front of your computer like homeless people.

You wake up with an I-phone or Blackberry alarm not with the morning shine and you switch your brain on with caffeine.

You don't wait for traffic lights turn to green to cross the road as you take initiative not to press "wait" button in rush hours.

You always "mind the gap between the train and the platform", you "press button to operate the lift", you "don't leave your luggages unattended", because you "keep your personal belongings with you at all times."

You wear a helmet to cycle. Well you actually cycle!

You became card-maniac! I bet you carry at least one of these cards:
A-Oyster
B-Tesco
C-company card with a not-quite-like-you picture on
D-medical card from your GP
E-Boots,Body Shop,Nandos, Cafe Nero etc.

And look what London has done to us:

You saw people who had time for sex but too busy for love, who had a fat wallet and thin heart or huge ego and small brain or deep eyes and no vision.

You learnt that girls could ask men out, then get no response and find out those men are both bisexual and racist in this city.

You find yourself looking at the calender to book holidays, checking public holidays, flights, possible long weekends etc every now and then.

You "like" your London friends' facebook status of "BBQ!" when it's sunny on weekends!

You tell your female friends that they look "sexy" when they wear a mini skirt, hills, hold-ups, low V-necks no matter how dreadful they look you appreciate their effort!

And you dislike when they ask you "where are you from?" in pubs, bars, and clubs to start a conversation.

Because no matter who you are, where you are from you are in the same melting pot.

Because in London you are a Londoner.

We love London because in London everyone has their unique IDENTITY and everyone has their ANONYMITY.

Get London reading? Whaa?!?

Few weeks ago, The Evening Standard -London's free-to-pick-up paper launched a courageous campaign to tackle illiteracy in the capital. I was impressed by the jaw-dropping figures given by the paper. Get this: Thousands of 11-year-olds start secondary school in London with a reading age of seven!

And Education Secretary Michael Gove said: "Children who cannot read are condemned to spend their entire life in a prison house of ignorance."

I am not planing to praise the paper because of the charity they organized to get London kids reading by the help of volunteers. Not because they don't deserve but I shall draw a different picture with these colours.

London as the capital city of United Kingdom is the centre of civilization in the eyes of people in the Eastern world. Trains and undergrounds in early mornings are full of people whose only foreheads could be seen, half of their faces are covered by newspapers, Ipads, books, magazines, papers whatever you can read something from! Especially when it comes to education, university degrees in engineering, science, law, literature, art and lately media UK universities are still far more better than the ones in Europe and the US in terms of their educational values and quality.

35 years ago when my father studied textile engineering in Bradford there wasn't even any better course in elsewhere in the world to compete with the textile-knitting technology education in the UK. Years later UK universities still hold their good reputation at least in the Eastern world - hard to get acceptance for masters degrees, strict rules during the studies and intensive academic programmes. So what on earth happened to the UK and its capital suffers from children illiteracy?
The paper reports that illiteracy mostly is the problem of the kids whose families speak English as a second language. We know that almost 80% of London is populated by foreigners. But wait a minute. English is my second language as well. I spent -including cost of living £16k for one year masters degree and another £8k to improve my English to academic level. Excuse me sirs! but if those families are refugees and holding UK passports they shouldn't have the luxury of not speaking English and not teaching or reading their kids in English.

Minority or refugee no excuse is acceptable for not reading in the official language of the country you live in. This is like Turks who live in closed Turkish community in Germany and can't read German or Kurds in the Eastern Turkey who can't read in Turkish.

DO GET London and the rest of the world reading and get them out of this prison please...

Selling Britain by the Pound?

Andrew Sentance, a sole member of BOE's MPC, who has been calling for a rate hike since June 2010 is asking Mr King: Are you selling Britain by the Pound?

And today Pound jumped dramatically to $1,6170, recovering from yesterday's low of $1.5987. His comments helped the speculation that rates will rise soon in the UK.

Who is Andrew Sentance though? Is he to be called a speculator, a realist or "the odd one out" in the committee?

There is wide range of colours in his career palette, from private sector to academics and music. He's a former head of economic policy at the Confederation of British Industry and also had worked as chief economist at British Airways.

Mr Sentance is a star in an Essex-based pop group called "Revelation". He plays bass, guitar and is on vocals. How "cool" is that?

There is something even "cooler" I want to remind you. Annual inflation in the UK hits 4% led by high commodity prices (and VAT rise in January 2011 is yet to be blamed.)

Let's have a look at the implications of this inflation in daily lives:
An "uncool Londoner" who works full-time, stays in a rent house with no car or motorbike and lives 2 zones away from work spends:


- min £4 for transportation

- min £15 for food including breakfast lunch and dinner (obviously very modest dinner cooked at home)

- min £5 of his/her utility bills

- min £15 rent living in the cheapest accommodation


Therefore, a Londoner spends at least 40 quid per day just to inhale and exhale in this country! There is no entertainment, no travelling, no clothing, no cosmetics, no treats in this bill...

I don’t know if anyone is selling Britain by the Pound but it's getting quite expensive for sure - just a revelation…

Flat Search DAY 2/3 and THE END

October the 31th, Sunday... There were 3 appointments noted in my little notebook. The first thing on Sunday morning was texting to the 11:30 appointment human being to push it to some time in between the rest . I deserved a big Sunday breakfast after celebrating Halloween in the cinema watching some paranormal activities, didn't I? :)

First stop Texas, I mean Dalston. It is a four floored massive house with two English guys living together. Their 3 kids come and visit them every now and then. Two bicycles welcome you in the entrance one of which has a little baby chair on the back. Barbie houses, craved pumpkins, paintings, toys, little clothes were spread in EVERY INCH of the house. After starting the conversation in a very English way (either weather or weekend plans) - if you stuck always talk about weather or ask how their weekend was :) I rocked the day with my very straight forward question:

- Are you guys married?
Silence...

The one who is a computer animator (or should i say the geek number 1) said that they both had their wives lived closeby, they separated around same time and decided to live together. Two weirdos!Then the geek number 2 who does some IT job passed me my tea in a mug. We headed to see the house upstairs (with me still holding the mug by the way:)
It's a massive, giant double or say quadruple room with two massive windows and wardrobes, shelves, everything I would need for my shoes, mountain of clothes, bits and pieces, books, toys etc etc.

Price was fantastic as well, then I recovered from my astonishment and thought that was "too good to be true Kubra". Bless my naiveness!

- Who was living in this room before?
- There was another girl, she left... (Silence) You may meet her one day, maybe...(Silence again)

God! I may well be getting myself into trouble voluntarily, what does it mean I may be meeting her? In the Hell or Heaven? In mental hospital? What the fuck did they do to the other girl!? (I was still under the influence of last night's horror movie and was still holding the mug) I ended the conversation with my polite wording of "I can't decide right now since I'll see few more places but I'll let you know asap". RUN KUBRA RUN!

Second and third stops were both in Whitechapel. Chapel, yeah right word to define. No one told me that there was a MASSIVE MUSLIM community lived in that area! I thought I ended up in Baghdat or Tehran or Riyadh etc. The afternoon pray started in the East London mosque HERE WE GO: guys with long breads, women wrapped up so well that you could only see the pupils! No offence but if you were born in a Muslim country as a woman, you kind of hate Middle Eastern stuff inevitably! If I lived here they would give me a "recm" punishment for my Ruby Woo lipstick in the first place! :)

The both rooms were awful, they are called ironing rooms in Turkey as I said before. The second one was in a one bedroom flat and the guy was renting the bedroom and invading the living room so it's like imprisoning me in the ironing room! I couldn't see any proper wardrobe, there was 3 (THREE) shirts hanged up on the rail. YES THREE!
He said:

- Yeah.. I'm weird...

I can see that you are weird man, how can you have only 3 shirts in total to wear all through your life?!? And no jumpers or shorts, raincoats, or jackets, or cardigans, coats, ties... Blimey! Will I pay to stay here? Actually they should be paying me for giving them this honour of living with me! :))

Next day, after my first hit on the phone with sleepy eyes I forced myself to jump into the shower to wake up properly so that I could make it to my 10:30 appointment in Caledonian Road, slightly Northern quiet neighbourhood. Lovely modern room by a Russian girl. We Turks all have a weakness for Russian girls. But come on! I'm a girl even though I don't sound too straight when I comment on other women still I'm a girl not a Turkish man!!! I can't excuse them easily.I turned up to the station and called her as we agreed last night, she picked up in a rush and said:

"Please call me in 5 ohh no in 10 minutes" Klink!

5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes... I got carried away with setting up apps in my new Blackberry... Then I phoned her, no answer. Again... no answer. Again... no answer! ARGHHHH!!! I was going write what she deserved something like you BITCH! But saved this for facebook status update and wrote that her behavior was very amateur and she should have let me know about any change beforehand, I worked and had limited time... "London is not a city of amateurs!" I ended my text.

1 hour later when I was at work my telephone rang, a strange number. Compared to the one of hers, nope a different one.
- Hello, I do apologize for this, I'm really sorry Kubra but something went wrong and couldn't get back to you. I lost your number and you were already gone when I came around... Blahh blahh blah...

She was carrying on, I said yeah it's OK and hanged up!

Lessons to Learn:
- East London is over for me, cool kids can live there happily ever after WITHOUT knowing me!
- Sharing a flat is not a way of socializing it's actually torturing your social and cultural limits for the sake of nothing!
- Plus you would never meet the man of your life in a shared flat! Or in a Rynair flight, or in a 3star hotel!
Forget about it!
- Be a normal person and go to an agency and rent a studio flat in the North or centre.
- London is not a city of amateurs! ( still holding the mug)