In March, I moved to the Walworth Road in Elephant & Castle, the birdsong dawn chorus of suburbia swiftly replaced by a nighttime
polyphony of sirens and my monthly train pass swapped for a second-hand bike. Defined by an enormous double roundabout,
labyrinth of underground tunnels and a dated multiplex, the area couldn´t be
further from the leafy lanes of Surrey. More of a through-road on a main bus route
than a residential area, by day it is a chaotic clog of traffic. By
night it´s desolate, the pavements scattered with uncollected rubbish and debris. Voluptuous silhouettes linger suggestively under the railway arches
and disparate groups loiter listlessly outside all-night newsagents with
windows caged in security grates. Drunks stagger unstably along
the kerbside, side-stepped by quick-footed commuters alighting from the night
bus, and shop-owners using the emptiness of the early hours restock their stores, some
wearing grubby white aprons and shouldering animal carcasses,
others shifting mattresses or crates of Tupperware.
As Walworth is devoid of social nightlife, I often find myself on
the 35 to Brixton for an evening out. Once a no-go area in London, the site of the infamous
riots of the 80s, Brixton now has the buzz of an area on the up. Home to the
best restaurant scene south side of the river, edgy vintage shops and late-night watering
holes, its streets draw a diverse crowd and are always a hive of activity. In
comparison, Walworth feels like a wasteland. For one, it is dominated by the
dilapidated shell of the notorious Heygate Estate. A sprawling concrete
monstrosity, the estate was initially conceived as some kind of socialist
utopia, but rapidly became a crime hotspot. Now, its walls daubed with
colourful expletives, windows boarded and only a few stubborn residents
remaining in a complex that once housed 1000s, it is on the brink of demolition and pending redevelopment. The glistening glass-fronted
Strata nearby is something of a paradox in comparison, poignantly out-of-place
amidst the surrounding monotony of drab tower blocks. A teaser of what could be?
The local in the bike repair shop – an ex-Heygate resident –
always reflects fondly on the years when the estate was full and Walworth
wasn´t such a ghost town. Though I imagine the crime stats tell a different story,
he has a point: the whole area feels abandoned. On the doorstep of central
London, it is a potential goldmine. Yet as London primps and preens for
the 2012 games, it remains on the edge of the regeneration drive. A
forgotten strip. Dreary-and-dismal rather than up-and-coming.
I suppose that until redevelopment is put into action, the central location will have to compensate for the desolate cityscape. My commute used to involve a 45-minute train journey, during which the novel I had planned to read was often forgotten in favour of an inelegant, head-bobbing snooze or a vacant scan of the morning´s Metro. Now, my journey has been cut to a 15-minute cycle. Though something of a slalom race with traffic on route to Waterloo, that I can get up at 9am and be home by 5.45pm if I want to more than justifies living in the urban nucleus. It may be a concrete jungle, but at least, with excellent transport links, it´s easy enough to escape it!
The local in the bike repair shop – an ex-Heygate resident –
always reflects fondly on the years when the estate was full and Walworth
wasn´t such a ghost town. Though I imagine the crime stats tell a different story,
he has a point: the whole area feels abandoned. On the doorstep of central
London, it is a potential goldmine. Yet as London primps and preens for
the 2012 games, it remains on the edge of the regeneration drive. A
forgotten strip. Dreary-and-dismal rather than up-and-coming. I suppose that until redevelopment is put into action, the central location will have to compensate for the desolate cityscape. My commute used to involve a 45-minute train journey, during which the novel I had planned to read was often forgotten in favour of an inelegant, head-bobbing snooze or a vacant scan of the morning´s Metro. Now, my journey has been cut to a 15-minute cycle. Though something of a slalom race with traffic on route to Waterloo, that I can get up at 9am and be home by 5.45pm if I want to more than justifies living in the urban nucleus. It may be a concrete jungle, but at least, with excellent transport links, it´s easy enough to escape it!
