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| Talk,
Julie Miller,
26 February 2001 | |
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They’ve done it again! those rich bastards who live in my once grubby bedsit-infested but boho and interesting street, they’ve got their own way. This week sees the start of permit parking. They can’t leave it be can they? If they’re not paying thousands of pounds to have their bricks cleaned and polished (lest their period properties should harbour even a speck of Balham dust) they’re wandering around Wandsworth common in full “keep the countryside hunting” barbours. Why don’t they just take their city bonuses and sod off back to the home counties.
Parking anywhere within a 500-yard radius of our modest little abode is like mission impossible, due to the obligatory 4x4s (the Wandsworth must have - used for that most dangerous of terrains, the school run.)
All the surrounding streets have permit parking apart from ours - nice one Wandsworth council - so any Tom, Dick or Camilla on a visit to Balham parks infront of our flat.
It really is time to move. I can no longer haul my pregnant body, a small child and 10 bags of organic veg up 2 flights of stairs. I can’t find a decent school for my small child that costs less than a 4x4 (funny that) and I don’t want to live in an area that has yet another Pitcher and Piano in spitting distance of the last. In short it’s time to move - as far away as is possible - and still commute. I love London. I hate what it is becoming. The haves, and the have nots. And as we are fast falling into the last category (and who can keep up with Wandsworth’s super rich) We’re off. London by the sea - Hove actually. More veggie restaurants than Cafe Rouges’s and the sort of vibe that means Nick (my husband) - will never have to worry about cutting his long hair ‘City Banker short’ While this has yet to cause him even one sleepless night, it has I fear, kept us firmly on the ‘C list’ of ‘you must come over for drinks’ invites from our unfriendly neighbours.
As Brighton beckons and our moving date draws near the need to do those only-in London-things for the last time becomes paramount. Sunday mornings at Columbia Road market, afternoons on the South bank, the Tate, Spittlefields, and lastly a trip to the not-so-city-centre for a stroll around Richmond park. The last on the list we did last Saturday afternoon. Richmond is a stones throw from Wandsworth but the drive took an hour, we queued for half an hour to reach the carpark, before sitting alongside the other frustrated and oxygen-starved Londoners waiting for a free space in the car park. That done we then spent the rest of our afternoon dodging the oncoming traffic of micro scooter, mountain bikes, and the lost home counties mob out on a quiet stroll - en mass. Not the most fun way to spend your free time.
So its goodbye London - hello Sussex. Thank God they’ve made Brighton and Hove a City. It has so much of the good bits of London, but it feels like a truly egalitarian society. Everyone I’ve met who’s escaped to Brighton from London tells me that they love it.
And why wouldn’t they? London by the sea without the permit parking - well for the time being at least.
I’ll keep you posted.
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