Dear London I ____ you by Michael C Place.

[NW1 9XU] Camden, Camden Town, draughty station, station exit like a mountain climb, shutters in a basement flat, compact, Northern Line, Bridge over the river, postcard Punks, real punks, market, pub on the corner, knees up, sup up, Is that dead pal? Messy, scruffy, weekender, Indie pub, pub on the corner, you know? The one that the bloke from Blur drinks in? What’s his name? What’s it’s name? Past the big new Sainsbury’s on the left, that’s if you exit left at the tube, avoid the gaze of the guy asking for money at the ATM, shield your PIN, ALWAYS shield your PIN, 9/11, watch in horror, the birth of a new world, mind your back, watch the gap. Original Pirate Material. Everyone is your mate, no one is your mate, no, one, don’t catch a persons eye, 2000 yard stare, exit only at the weekend, 24hr city? Then why do the tubes stop at midnight, it’s a conspiracy, TFL, Transport For London, TFLOnlyDuringOfiiceHours more like, what a nightmare. Stranded on the tube, down the tube station at midnight, stranded. If you fall asleep you may well end up in Walthamstow, who’d have thought it eh? Pearly Kings. Pearly Queens. Emo Teens. Edgy Camden, North London. Not for the likes of you West Londoners. No. No ball games, no fun, no FUTURE. Roundhouse, round the houses. 24hr taxi offices, looking like an installation by Dan Flavin, flamin’ hell, where you going? What’s your name? Blinded by the lights...blinded by the lights. Fireworks! Watch out! Short term lease. TO LET, FOR SALE, SOLD. Subject to contract of course. The Estate Agent, pointy shoes, cheap suit, MINI, PCM, Per. Calendar. Month. Unfurnished, Furnished, we’ll take it, 24hr TESCO, fags, wine, RIZLA, 6am, more? Go on then, it’s a school night, FUCK IT. Build. London, back from travelling yeah? Yeah. Year zero, ground zero. Build is a London-based design studio. Music. Northern Line, always loved the Northern Line, I’m Northern, salt of the earth, we say hello to strangers, you don’t? No curry sauce. Plenty of fried-chicken though. PLENTY of fried chicken though. Corner shops? OPEN. CLOSED. OPEN. CLOSED. Over-priced, over subscribed. Pizza? You want pizza. We deliver. What’s your postcode? House number? Pay by Card? No. No. Pay the driver. Keep the change. The streets are paved with gold I tell you. Paved with rave flyers on a Sunday morning mate, getting the papers, bleary eyed, one more? Go on then. Would you like a seat? Give up your seat. Cold stares, grateful eyes, thank you. Baby on board! Salt of the earth your average Londoner. Salted peanuts, pint of lager please. How much? Not enough, minimum wage. Minimum effort. Camden Town via Mornington Crescent. Kings Cross or Euston branch? Don’t get caught out. How come the carriage lights don’t go out anymore? Flashes of sparks, furtive glances, always sit on the seat nearest the tube door. No wood floors no more. No smoking either. No beer. No Wi-Fi. Am I the only one to not give a shit about Wi-Fi on the tube? It’s a blessing, No signal, no service. No toilets. Plan your journey. Journey Planner. Citymapper. PDF. Tube Map. https://www.tfl.gov.uk/assets/downloads/standard-tube-map.pdf PDF 353KB. Best 353KB of your life mate. Note. To. Self. Save PDF before going on the tube. Take a bottle of water too. For emergencies only. Obstruct the door, be dangerous. Come on! History all around, look around, look LEFT, look RIGHT. Look UP. Ghost signs, ghost of the past, statues, the war. In Memory of... New laptop, new life. New life. Feel like a tourist, be a tourist. Watch out for pick-pocketers. Tourists from around the world gaze in wonder, it’s a beautiful city if you just stop for a moment. Stop for a moment. Think. All the history, all the things that have happened here in this great city. Great things. Big Ben. The Houses of Parliament. The London Eye. Keep an eye out, you may see a celebrity. I saw Ainsley Harriot in Covent Garden, right there. In amongst the street performers, off camera, relaxed. Exit only. Exit left, keep left. Stay behind the yellow line. The yellow line, for your safety sir. Where have all the mice gone? Of Mice and Men, squeeze in, room for one more. Move down the carriage please. Please. Please. Allow an hour, must get to work by 9, leave the house at 7.45, 15 minutes to the station, follow the crowd, like a magnet seeking metal, follow that man, commuting, it’s a way of life. A necessary evil, there’s an evil smell down here...who’s farted? Oh man. It’s him. I know it, oh well another day in paradise right? Paradise does not arrive on platform 2 of the Circle line at Temple. Does it? Change at Earl’s Court. Always hated this station. The antiquated signs, which is my platform? Which platform, platform for art soothing my eyes, feeding my brain. Taken 1, 2 and 3. Take me home please. Cradle me in your branded patterned seats, transport me away from this madness. District line now, always disliked the green of this line, dislike the line more, it’s S-L-O-W, Wimbledon train in 5 minutes. West Brompton. Is this where the Brompton bikes are made? Fulham Broadway, no thanks. [SW6 5AJ] Parsons Green. Home for now. Why did we choose West London? It’s a bit dry, not much going on, lots of people with money. People with lives made from money, shaped by money. Don’t get me wrong it’s nice to have money but don’t let it rule your life. OK. Wine bars. Bars made of wine. People drinking champagne. The Sloaney Pony. Parsons Green, Weekend warriors. Polo shirts, Ralph Lauren, collars turned up, turned up, yes that’s what I said. We made some serious money this week. At the cash machine, waiting my turn, overheard - Who do we know who has a swimming pool? Snigger. A swimming pool? Yes, a fucking swimming pool, don’t give money to the man at the ATM, got change for a fifty? Relay the tale, disbelief. It’s another world, it really is. Got my phone from Fulham, pick a number, yes that one will do, i’ll remember that number. Save the date, let’s get married, seems a long time ago that I said the immortal words...will you marry me? Yes, TFFT. fast-forward, Fulham. Down by the River Thames. Down Fulham High Street. All Saints Church, let’s get married there. Yes! I do. I do. Best day of my life. Watch the rowing boats go by, watch the boat race, not just any boat race, THE Boat Race, Face, cockney rhyming slang. Tinkle on the old Joanna, Pie and Liquor. OOF. Pint in The Eight Bells, Dutch courage, takes me back to town, drinks at De Hems, a sea of Orange in amongst orange ducks, hung, drawn and quartered. Quarter duck? Set meal for 4. Another time, back in time, All Saints Church. Watching telly with Nicky, years later, The Omen, 666, the number of the beast. A priest. Staggering through a field, a windy field, he climbs a fence, into a churchyard. We both look at each other, that looks familiar. He staggers closer to the church, that’s OUR church! He’s not smiling though, we were. A crescendo, lightning strikes, he looks up, not us, the priest. BOOM. The spire, comes down, spearing the priest! In front of our church. He’s not laughing, we are, best check Google. Google it. Yes, it’s OUR church. Another story, another tale to tell. Good times. A mansion block, two bedroom, sharing with a friend. Along comes Brockmann. Along comes Betty. Different now. West London isn’t for us. I’m from the North, you know, up there. North of the Watford Gap. Where strangers call you love. I didn’t love Fulham. Shall we go? Yes. Where shall we go? District Line. That bloody green again, feels oppressive. Parsons Green station, nice enough, it’s outdoors, not underground. District Line. Line to Upminster, never been to Upminster, is it nice? We aren’t going there though. No. Just to Embankment. It’s near The Thames. We don’t linger though, head South. Sarf. South of the river? No mate. Yes mate. Northern line. That’s nice, feels like home, Black. It’s grim up North. No it isn’t. South on the Northern, now then Northern to Morden. Not Morden, we alight at Clapham Common. [SW4 9SB] It’s a small station. Platform like a finger. You can see both sides. Up the stairs. Round the bend. Walk or ride? Let’s walk, its good for you. Through the turnstile, turning right, over the road, over the crossing. Past the book ends. Clapham Common North Side. There it is again, that word. North. Is it trying to tell me something? Look to your left, the Common. Common People. I wanna live like common people. Do you? Not many common people here though. We wanna live like Clapham Common people. It’s a bit weird this one, it’s complicated. Let me explain. You go in the door, up the stairs, through, yes I said through someone else’s flat, up another flight of stairs and you are there. That someone else flat is actually Pina & Luigi’s flat. Straight talking Italians. Lovely people, common people. They were from Sardinia, Sardegna. Moved here years ago, Luigi supports Cagliari FC. Clapham Common is great. Frisbee sessions of an evening. Walk over to the The Windmill on the Common. Lovely. Did you know that Clapham Common is a park with the oldest bandstand in London? Well you do now. It’s lovely. You can get a coffee at La Baita.Though one review says “...don’t plan for a sit down drink or meal...” Never had a problem myself. We used to run round Clapham Common. My studio (spare room) overlooked the Common. Sunday league football on Sunday. Sunday lunches, beer on the balcony. Sleep on the balcony in summer, a bit like Rear View Mirror without the murder. Watch the foxes, lots of foxes. Lots of space, I love space. A stroll around the common in the afternoon to clear the head, Nicky used to work in town. Marlbourough Street. Central London. Feels a long way away from Clapham. Hop on a bus, Routemasters back then, health and safety killed those beautiful things. Jump on, jump off. Ticket. Upstairs, downstairs. Pina didn’t care much for the people downstairs. Meteor Street just round the corner from the flat. I used to love The Meteors. Scarborough College. Quiff. Bleached jeans. Brothel Creepers. Back to life. Back to reality. Renting. A nation of renters. Who can afford to buy in London? Who can afford to buy in Clapham? Not us. Then where? Go North East my friend. [E17 5LF] Walthamstow. The grass is greener. Affordable? Really? Saturday - Clapham Common, Kings Cross across to the Blue line, The Victoria Line. This feels nice, nice and fast, clean, noisy though. Get off at Walthamstow Central, 2004. OOF. It’s a bit different to Clapham. North East London. East London, the real London. Where real Londoners live, none of this fake West London bullshit. Harrods? No thanks, Pound Shops and the longest market street in Europe. Take that Mr Al Fayed. East 17 that’s the postcode, it was a band too, boy band. Steam, Stay Another Day, Christmas number-one in 1994. William Morris too, born in Walthamstow in 1834. Long time ago, made his mark, lets make our mark in Walthamstow too. Look around, Warner Flats, beautiful, made for Mr Warners workers. Lets work from one too. SOLD. Moved. Bit of garden. Lovely bit of garden. Lloyd Park too, the ever popular Lloyd Park states the estate agent spiel. Hoe Street. Diana Road. Number 114, own front door. Ascend the stairs, it’s all ours. Two bedrooms too, two. Count them, One...Two. Zone 3. Twenty minutes into Central London, or ‘Town’ as we Londoners call it. I’m not really a Londoner am I? That’s something to do with the bells of Bow, peeling. Peeling sash windows, needs a bit of work, an architect used to live here, lots of storage, its different to a lot of the ‘Warners’. Shame we didn’t get warned about the noisy bastards downstairs. NOISY. BASTARDS. 20 minutes to Liverpool Street too, over Hackney Marshes, always look up when we cross the marshes, manna for the eyes, The Anchor & Hope. Not much hope here. Few anchors though, mostly on barges, a few on forearms. The Village. Sounds like it’s The Village, the one and only. Add another £50k on the bill. It doesn’t feel like you are in London people say, well we are on the border of Essex love. Walthamstow used to be in Essex, London got greedy, greedy London. The march of gentrification. The Nags Head, Full of cats, well it used to be full of cats. Velvet covers the tables, think there is a seance later, is there anybody there? Mind your head. NO children after 7.30pm. No. No. No. Nice beer garden though. Are we still in London? Manze’s now there is an institution. Pie and Mash, liquor? No thanks. Jellied Eels, OOF. Tiled booths. Beautiful. The market, feels like swimming upstream, avoid it during the weekend. Independent shops. Independent spirit. Crushed spirits, bootleg spirits. Overlooking the garden at the side. 114 Diana Road, you’ll see our flat if you watch Helvetica the documentary. We’d just moved in, boxes everywhere. Watch it again you’ll see. Ian Dury went and studied painting in Walthamstow, the college of art. Lots of artists here in E17. Not many decent pubs when we first moved though. Now you can’t move for craft this, craft that... We are a nation of craftsmen and women. We love it. Walthamstow has a tagline, some call it #Awesomstow. I don’t. It is pretty awesome though. It’s home. It’s nice to not be in Shoreditch, or SoHo, which I think is a little so so. Unit 112. [E17 4QP] The Mews. WACN 1895. 6666. Cobbled streets, these are the streets. L’Hirondelle. The Rose and Crown, Queens Head, The Village, the pub not the posh bit. It’s a bit like New York, Brooklyn. Multi-cultural. Don’t go in The Goose, go in The Goose, busting for a piss. The Goose, opposite Wally Central, end of the Victoria Line. Start of the Victoria Line. Depending on where you are at. Always get a seat. Bit of a nightmare coming home though, eases off at Highbury & Islington, Tottenham Hale, but you are nearly there, another few minutes. Ten minutes and you are in Epping Forest, hunting ground for the Kings & Queens of England you know, now it’s where you go to get a bit of fresh air, stretch your legs, see some green. Walthamstow Dog Track. Rest In Peace. David Beckham used to work there, Parklife was shot there. Cheap burgers, mingle with the high life, and the low-life, all walks of life. Go in the left-hand side, the best side, next to the finish line. Watch them run, watch them run. Stag do’s. Hen do’s. Do one. Study the form, smiling faces, ripped up tickets. All closed now. It’s flats. Flats. No more Charlie Chan’s. Faceless boring boxes. Private boxes used to reside, have a meal watch them run. Table service. All Under One Roof Raving. Bus home, busy buses, lets walk instead. Green doors, original knockers, red brick, purpose built, built for purpose. Joking about Pizza Express, elation at the opening of Subway, the sandwich shop not the bit under (or over a road). Daft really right? No cinema. Now we have a cinema. No Pizza Express, now we have a Pizza Express, and a Nando’s, and a Turtle Bay...it’s bit like a theme park, but you are allowed to eat food on the rides. Lines and Lines and Lines and Lines. The Victoria Line, love the Victoria Line. Comfy seats, get a seat, get a paper, discard a paper. What’s on TV? Is this your first time in Walthamstow? It used to be in Essex you know. The EMD cinema. We live next door to the EMD cinema, in the shadow of it on a sunny day. The UCKG tried to turn it into a church. We fought, meetings at the town hall, fluorescent tabards and placards. NO! NO! NO! Overturned, once, twice. Now what? Walthamstow is on the up. It’s fashionable to live in E17. Early adopter. Police helicopters. More estate agents, influx, hipsters and city workers. No collared-up polo shirts yet though. TFFT. People getting cross, the area is losing it’s identity. Stella Creasy. The home of Bacon Jam. the Posh SPAR. Pizzas from the Posh SPAR. Eat 17. A microbrewery. An industrial estate. Raj the German Shepherd lives on our street. Gods Own Junkyard. Neon heaven. Blade Runner. The fizz of neon, interrupted now by the fizz of G+T’s and Chips with Dips. The Forest Quarter. [E17 4AR] Up near the cattle grid. Five minutes and you are in the forest. It’s a twenty minute walk to the studio. Nice and quiet. Restricted covenant. No shops. No temptation. Wood street station. Twenty-three minutes to Liverpool Street. Five minutes to Brick Lane. Hot. Salt. Beef. Bagel. An institution. Plenty of mustard, brown paper bag, fancy a curry? The curry mile. Miles of curry. Meetings in Shoreditch. Members only. Shoreditch House. Rooftop pool, no chance of a seat. No suits. No more than one person in a cubicle at a time too. Lines, and lines, and lines and lines. Free sweets. The Griffin. Love The Griffin. Lets meet there? Standing outside, sticky carpets inside. London does do a good boozer. Big London boozers. Boozy boozers. King Lear, down the rub-a-dub. First bit of sunshine, outside, SoHo bound, Chinatown, Carnaby Street, round the back of Liberty, on the corner, upstairs, quieter upstairs. Back out of town, its quieter out of town. Northern-bound, underground. 275 or 123, via Barkingside TESCO. Alight, feeling light, down the hill, Castleton Road, a mans home is his castle.Bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar. SOLD. You’ll love it. Done now. A1-bound, pastures new, the Motherland calls. Family calls. Build was a London-based design studio. Goodbye London. It’s been grand.

— MCP/2015