This weekend marks a life changing event.
A day I never thought would come.
A life changing decision.
And now it’s here.
I’m moving away this weekend.
To a place that is alien to me.
A place with a culture so different to the one I know.
Where I’ll have to face obstacles such as language barriers and new terrain.
My friends are shocked by my sudden decision to venture so far away. But it’s time for a new adventure.
My little flat is slowly being packed up into brown cardboard boxes, ready for a brand new chapter.
This weekend the unthinkable is happening.
This weekend this born and bred South London girl… is moving to N19.
Don’t ask me why or how. It’s happening and what seemed like a whimsical spur of the moment decision has now hit me like a ton of bricks. I’ve been trying to work out what life in my new environment of the exotic land of Archway will be like.
But no matter how lovely it will be up North, there are things I will miss dearly about South London.
Like the eclectic landscape of South London. After being bombed to f**k in the war what’s left is a right old hotch potch of new and old mashed together. Beautiful town houses dotted in amongst towering concrete blocks of sink hole estates and red brick 1960s kit-houses that were quickly vomited over the South to accommodate the growing suburbs. There’s a certain charm and colour to it.
North is tidier on the whole. Less bombsite and more classic British streets, wide roads and tall houses that proudly line the hills.
Shit.There’s a thought.
There is a stupid amount of hills in North London.
My knees ache just thinking about my new running route.
North London misses a certain charm and character that South London has. Let’s face it – the “Angel Wings” in Islington are pretty – but they just aren’t the same as a massive papier maché cat are they?
There’s a buzz and atmosphere to South London that can’t compare to anywhere else. People always consider South London to be ‘dangerous’. And yes, sirens and gunshots are part of the soundscape, but so are steel drum bands, gospel choirs and the sellers at the market stalls touting their wears. Plus the man at Stockwell station who only has one string on his guitar (and about as many teeth) who seems to have a lovely time singing songs that I’ve never heard before (and I don’t think he has either).
I will miss the drunk men who sit drinking white lightening and singing No Woman No Cry under my window most nights a little bit.
But not that much.
I’ll miss the deep lack of direct transport links to certain areas of South London, especially the fact if you miss the last tube, you’re guaranteed to have to get at least 3 night buses. And then when that fails you end up having blazing rows with taxi drivers to convince them to drive over the bridge to take you home.
The weirdest thing about moving is I’ve never left. Even for university saaaaauf londaaan has always been home.
Twenty seven years in my little SW bubble and now it’s on the verge of being popped.
It’s a bitter-sweet feeling.
But, even though my postcode no longer has an ‘S’ at the start
No matter what I’ll always be a South London girl at heart.