Reporter Mieka Smiles thinks London is just as friendly as her Northern town (Image: Mieka Smiles)

       It's been said a million times before, hasn't it?

       So much so that the assumption has almost become an affirmation for Northerners wanting to avoid London - and a sad booby prize for those who do live there.

       People are, apparently, just friendlier oop North. Just recently a study seemed to confirm the long-held belief that people from the North are more open hearted than down South.

       A list of the ‘most generous’ areas have been revealed as Manchester and Salford followed by Belfast, Edinburgh and Glasgow, reports the Daily Mail. Not a southern city in sight.

       I'm from the Northern town of Middlesbrough and in my 41 years have probably visited London a usual amount of times for a non resident: to visit Buckingham Palace, the occasional jolly and more recently for work.

       But after a long career in regional journalism, my new office is now in the very heart of London workplaces: Canary Wharf. It's most definitely not somewhere you visit as a tourist, or by accident.

       READ MORE: Vera's Brenda Blethyn says Northerners are friendlier than the south

       Mieka walked in a 'worrying loop' of Canary Wharf before being helped by a bar owner (Image: Getty)

       When I ventured out of the Tube station I was staggered at the sheer scale of the place. A proper metropolis. Like in the movies.

       Totally discombobulated, I staggered around, mainly in the dark, before realising I had better locate my hotel.

       Confidence diminishing (after continuing to walk in the worrying loop) I forced myself to do what Northern people do: ask the nearest person for help.

       Thankfully the owner of the bar I stumbled into gracefully steered me into an Uber and I was at the hotel in minutes. And a snip too at ￡5.

       That was the first act of London kindness. I was up and at 'em the next day for my first day in the office. It was a bit overwhelming to say the least. Particularly the ￡10 Pret lunch bill (...sadly a Spar was nowhere to be found).

       And when it was time to go home I made a beeline for the Tube.

       I tried to give off an air of competence, but I stuck out like a sore thumb as I desperately assessed the underground maps - that to me might as well be spaghetti - with my sad little trolley case, lent to me by my mum, in tow.

       A kind waiter packed up a metal fork so Mieka could enjoy her food on the train (Image: Mieka Smiles)

       But just as I was about to lug my case up a considerable flight of stairs I was offered assistance from a lovely young man with a backpack. I politely declined but, quite honestly, I was astonished.

       I put aside the fact that I may have just looked so hapless and exhausted this kind lad felt obliged to step in. I really wasn’t used to this kind of chivalry.

       Next I headed to a lovely little place that I’d been to before for a quick coffee before heading home. (Okay, wine).

       Sadly, as is usually the case, I’d left nowhere near enough time to conduct the things I needed to and realised that the food I’d ordered would need stuffing down my throat at breakneck speed.

       I asked the young waiter if I could take it away. He said they didn’t usually allow evening orders to be taken off the premises. But with that he gave me a wink - and not only packed me up, went out of his way to make sure I’d enjoy it. There were no takeaway forks left so he popped in a proper metal one.

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       Feeling very thankful, I picked up the lot and ran as fast as I could (bolstered by the hefty glass of white) for the 7.30pm train back to Middlesbrough.

       My town is a place on Teesside, in the North East of England, where people really will go out of their way to help you. In fact they pride themselves on it.

       You can approach a stranger lost and they’ll make it their duty not just to assist with directions but to take you there themselves - and by their own mode of transport if necessary.

       Here is a fabulous example of that exact thing from one of my mates Dean Moore who drove 200 miles for strangers desperate to see a dying loved one after their car crashed.

       But this rep that London has for unfriendliness, I’m happy to say, is just plain inaccurate. It was quickly back to the real world as I clambered aboard my train.

       “That’s my seat,” I was told as soon as I plonked myself down…Humph.

       And London? Thank you. I will be back.

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