Last night, after a day in Kent, I went into town to catch up with Brad, an Urbexer and an academic that I greatly respect. We had plans to go and do something high but having both had a long week, fell into a bar in Covent Garden that one would walk past if you hadn’t fallen down the stairs and up to the bar. We drank some rather heavy cocktails and chewed the fat. Love, sex, sex, sex and then urbex were the topics of conversation. We sat with Mike, another guy from the department and eventually we experienced that horrible moment when the lights come up, you realize how drunk you and your friends are and have to decide what to do next…

Food! What does for one do for food in Central London at about 1am? Mike knew the answer – it could only be the Golden Arches. Off we headed to Tottenham Court Road and stuffed ourselves with greasy mechanically retrieved meat and chips.

We took a slightly windy route towards the food, checking to see if one or two other bars were open alas they weren’t. A crazy idea, Centre Point. No way to scale the outside but what about just walking in and going up the stairs? It was worth a go. Up the stairs and through the glass doors, to the desk at reception and mak the turn right towards the next set of doors. We were cornered by reception. Polite conversation followed. It was closed for the night but we could take the number and get on a guest list… We left.

We crossed the road towards Mc Donalds. This whole area has been torn to pieces through the building of Cross Rail and there in front of the restaurant stood a mini JCB style crane, roughly fenced off with herras. It didn’t take much suggest for the Drunken Brad to tackle the fence and scale to the roof of the cab, then shimmy up the shaft and dangle from the wire cables and then he fell, to re-appear moments later and scale back to this side of the fence. As he did so, the sirens and flashing lights appeared.

They were fast, we suspected the bouncer in Maccy Ds and  Brad found himself in the corner surrounded by three of the Mets finest, questioned and sent on his way. As we walked to the car we discussed the fact that we can climb some of the tallest buildings in the city without being noticed and even if noticed, no one cares. Yet as soon as you enter the West End there is an attempt make a public show over any offence yet the police seem not to realize that no amount of policing will stop an attack on the city we all love and it wont come from a slightly inebriated man who’s decided to climb a onto the roof of a vehicle to entertain the passers by. We will not see it coming and to criminalize the city’s inhabitants and visitors does nothing but inspire an innate distrust of the police. This experience was simply part of the circus that is the West End.

I drove Brad back to his flat in Clapham where we sat and drank tea and talked about his upcoming show. Eventually I looked at the clock – 3AM. Time to head for home. Urbex is sometimes about the small things, the people, the good times, the brutal truth, the attempts to just walk in and maybe be walked out but on the odd occasion it all comes together and just works. Some times though it is just about making an obvious stand, knowing that there will be an obvious back lash. Sometimes it’s time to make a spectacle, if only to remind people that we are there, and we’re not going away.