Dear London

One of my favourite YouTube channels is Letters Live, in which celebrities read letters written by people both famous and not, many of which are quite humourous.  I stumbled upon a video some months back in which Benedict Cumberbatch (a frequent letter reader) announced a competition encouraging viewers to write a letter to the city of London.  The winning letter would be read aloud by Cumberbatch at a Letters Live performance.

While the winning letter was ten times more eloquent than anything I could have ever hoped to have written, I was still kind of proud of my submission.  So I thought I'd put it here where you can read it.

 

9 September, 2025

Dear London,

Let me begin by saying that I am an American. Please don't hold that against me. I've only been to London—in fact, I've only been to the UK—once. But it had such a profound effect on me that in the years and decades since my visit, I've found myself reflecting on my short time there more than frequently.  My sister (also an American, but I swear she's cool) was spending a year working for The Simon Community, a charity that was a favourite of the Queen Mother, and I was visiting her with another friend of ours on holiday (or "vacation" as we call it in the States).

Like many Americans, I probably had a slightly romanticized vision of London from literature and films—specifically the works of Richard Curtis and, of course, Mary Poppins. And I definitely felt a bit of that from the minute I got off the plane at Gatwick Airport. After exchanging our currency, my friend and I got on a train to take us into the city. As we rode past what I thought were quaint little homes that looked like an illustration in a children's book, I had to remind myself that actual people actually lived in those actual houses. We have houses like that in America too—along with actual people who actually live in them—but they were never anything special to me in my own country. For the first time in my life, I was the foreign visitor. I suddenly felt compelled to be on my best behaviour and not come off as the stereotypical "ugly American." I hope I was at least moderately successful.

I spent my 27th birthday roaming the streets of your fair city, occasionally singing aloud the chorus of Bill Withers's song "Lovely Day" because... well, it was. To this day, it was one of the loveliest days I've spent. I became completely enchanted by you. I don't know if it was you, or the company I was keeping on the day, but it was the best birthday I've ever had.

As I said, I was affected by the experience. Just to be ornery, I now write dates backward by American standards and I've adopted the British spellings of certain words like "colour." And if HP Sauce ever needs an international spokesperson, I'm available. It is, quite possibly, my favourite condiment.

In spite of that, I haven't been back in the nearly 25 years since, simply because I'm afraid that it won't be as enchanting the second time around. Perhaps our relationship is destined to be a brief, but hopefully meaningful, fling—ships that pass in the night and all that. Perhaps... but I hope not.

With much love,

Will Allen

 

Tower Bridge, London, UK, April, 2001