This MA thesis on walking the streets of the city in the 18th century has taken me to the most interesting of places-the London Metropolitan Archives, Westminster Archive Centre, The British Library, as well as nearly every museum in the city. I have also come into contact with the most esteemed of academics, experts in their fields, and voices of authority on such things as urban anthropology, and antiquarianism. I had, however, never imagined I would during my research come into contact with the highest of authorities-the Metropolitan Police, when I submitted my proposal, but that is exactly what happened last week, when the officers who stopped me learnt why they should never stop an academic Muslim researcher.
The sun was shining, and it was another day in the city for me. I had just collected images of London’s streets (from the 18th century) from the London Metropolitan Archive Centre, and was marvelling at how the city had over the course of two centuries, changed significantly, as well as remaining very much the same. My excitement was such that I decided I would take my own pictures of the city’s streets, and compare them in my thesis, undertaking a bit of original research, and field work. Walking jollily along Newgate street, I found the Bank of England, of which I had an 18th century engraving. I decided, therefore I would take a picture of the Bank in the exact same view as that of the engraving. Of course, this was not easy, as the traffic in Bank is incredibly congested. I therefore took quite a few pictures, and finally got the angle right. Though I did not shout it aloud, the word ‘yippee’, did spring to mind. I turned around, a significantly big smile on my face, to find two very (and I mean very) grim-faced police officers standing there. It was here the dialogue began.
“Excuse me sir, but just what are you doing?” His tone was harsh, and rather accusational-he seemed to have already decided what I was doing, and was just asking me in order that I say something contrary to what was in his mind, in order that he may then tell me what I was doing. I was taken aback, as you would, and my smile faded. “officers…I’m just taking pictures of the Bank of England…for my MA thesis on the streets of the city. His response was quick and sharp: ‘the street, are you having a laugh? Your MA is on the streets of the city? What sort of thesis focuses on the streets?
‘Erm…mine?’
‘Really, and what is so interesting about the street that you’re taking pictures of buildings and the current streets of our city in broad daylight?’
It was at this point I realised what I was being accused of, what was understandable; a bearded individual snapping the city needed to be questioned in light of recent events. I understood, and appreciated that. This wasn’t the “crime” the officer had committed. Oh no. He had asked an MA student, in the middle of August (when I had completed so much of my research) about what he was researching. This just should not be done, for the person asking is just asking to get an earful about all the things the student has researched. It is sort of an unwritten rule among researchers; even us MA students do not ask each other about what the other is researching, as its just asking for trouble. I therefore smiled once again, took a deep breath, and began:
‘Well, its interesting you ask. In 1666 London, the old medieval city, burnt to the ground with the Great Fire of London, regarded by many social historians as the moment in history which caused London in its current metropolitan state, to come into existence (pause for effect). Following the fire, city developers and officials decided that rather than rebuild London as the town that it was, they would re-imagine London as a city. The planning therefore began, with the consultation of such people like Christopher Wren, and John Nash. By the…’
He tried to cut in: ‘sir, that’s fine, we don’t need to’-
-‘hey, you’ve got me started, I have to finish…
‘So, where was I? Ah yes, by the eighteenth-century, London had become what we now understand to be an urban metropolis, and this development spilt onto the streets of the city themselves. The streets during the period not only became wider, but with the passing of the 1762 Paving Act by Parliament, lead to the pavements in London coming into existence. These pavements were designated to the pedestrian, as London became in the period a pedestrian’s city. As the century progressed, the gentlemen of the upper, and upper-middle classes began to walk the streets, and literature aimed to educate these gentlemen of the ways of the street. These walking gentry….
He and his collegue had to stand there listening to the entire narration of my thesis. At the end, I breathed, smiled, and having shown him my QM ID card, asked, ‘so, is there anything else?’
‘No sir, you’re good to go…’ They seemed confused and bewildered; much like a first year undergrad who just sat through his first year lecture. I therefore said, ‘and look, now you’re more educated with respect to the streets of the city than you were before you stopped me, as they say, you learn a new things every day officers, cheerio.’ I went on my way. That’ll teach them not to ever again stop a Muslim academic in the city!
