I've been feeling a bit nostalgic recently. I think it's because Significant Other is away in Madrid working, which means I spend more time on my own thinking rather than talking. The weather - so abysmal that I just have to bring it up - is not helping at all. Even the chirpiest people I know are feeling a bit hard done by it all. "The most awful thing about it is that in a couple of weeks' time, it'll be winter," said a Maltese friend I had dinner with this week (SO's being away provides me with the perfect opportunity to catch up with everyone). Awful indeed. I've already had to turning the heating on.
On Friday I had an errand to run in Dalston, and as a result had to go via Hackney - which is where I lived when I first arrived here. Seeing as I had time to kill, I jumped off the bus half way down the high street, and decided to walk all the way instead. I tried to work out how long it had been since I had last been and roughly calculated about two decades. The day after, on my way to St Pancras to have another coffee with another Maltese friend, I passed by a plaque commemorating the victims of the King's Cross fire, which had taken place - read the plaque - in 1987. I had just arrived here when the fire happened. In fact I had already moved out of the Hackney flat, down the road to Bethnal Green where I shared a flat with a miserable lesbian, who asked me to leave after three months because I was too untidy. That was 21 years ago!!
It was good to see that things had improved in what had once been considered to be one of London's poorest and most dangerous boroughs. The estate I lived on - widely considered to be one of the worst in the area - looked a gazillion times better than when I last saw it, and the surrounding houses - most of which had been falling to pieces - have been renovated and are now desirable residences which are turning Hackney into a bit of a happening place. There's definitely a better vibe going on there now than there was in my days. It doesn't feel like it was that long ago but it was 21 years ago. This, by the way, all happened in the week when my best friend's son, who I held in my hand hours after being born, turned 20. And the week Madonna, who was in her 20 when she first appeared on the scene, turned 20! Now you know why I'm feeling all nostalgic.
On Friday I had an errand to run in Dalston, and as a result had to go via Hackney - which is where I lived when I first arrived here. Seeing as I had time to kill, I jumped off the bus half way down the high street, and decided to walk all the way instead. I tried to work out how long it had been since I had last been and roughly calculated about two decades. The day after, on my way to St Pancras to have another coffee with another Maltese friend, I passed by a plaque commemorating the victims of the King's Cross fire, which had taken place - read the plaque - in 1987. I had just arrived here when the fire happened. In fact I had already moved out of the Hackney flat, down the road to Bethnal Green where I shared a flat with a miserable lesbian, who asked me to leave after three months because I was too untidy. That was 21 years ago!!
It was good to see that things had improved in what had once been considered to be one of London's poorest and most dangerous boroughs. The estate I lived on - widely considered to be one of the worst in the area - looked a gazillion times better than when I last saw it, and the surrounding houses - most of which had been falling to pieces - have been renovated and are now desirable residences which are turning Hackney into a bit of a happening place. There's definitely a better vibe going on there now than there was in my days. It doesn't feel like it was that long ago but it was 21 years ago. This, by the way, all happened in the week when my best friend's son, who I held in my hand hours after being born, turned 20. And the week Madonna, who was in her 20 when she first appeared on the scene, turned 20! Now you know why I'm feeling all nostalgic.