Well my cherubins, you sent me the vibes and I believe they worked the way they were supposed to. You know that flat I mentioned in the last post, the one I said was absolutely perfect? We'll after almost no deliberation - well that's not entirely true - a little back and forth did take place, The Silverback and I decided it wasn't for us. I was surprised at first at how quickly I let the whole thing slide and then I realised, the vibes!! The vibes!!! When the decision is the right one, it leaves no trace of aftertaste. See the problem wasn't the flat - no - that cunning little package was the real deal. Built over 3 levels, it felt like a proper little mansion. The bedrooms were a fantastic size, the bathroom shiny and new (with no weird colours going on) and the kitchen was out of a catalogue but a 5 minute stroll around the area and the whole proposition had turned more putrid than Barry White's first dump of Boxing Day.
It's really quite sad what's happened to that area or I should say, what's been allowed to happen to the area. On the borders of West Hamstead - in other words Kilburn - a word that causes even the strongest stomach to turn -was once a jolly little Irish area. On a return stroll the day following our initial viewing of the place, it became clear we had in fact skidded into the very arsehole of London. On the surface the local park looks like a shining example of regeneration but take a closer look and while the ergonomic and pastel coloured swings, which no doubt will have cost the local tax payer (out-numbered by 10-1) a pretty penny - the local community still comprises the very dregs of Fat Bastard's crapstool and no amount of pastel coloured street furniture is going to change that.
The other clues of course were the sheer numbers of housing associations, women's centres and community halls- not exactly the sign of an affluent area. Oh they too were pastel coloured, made to look like little haberdasheries but sewing, I can guarantee you, is not one of the activities you'll find on the list. Forgive me but it's precisely those areas that turn out to be the most expensive in the end. Between outrageous council tax bills (well someone has to pay for all that pastel coloured paint) and home contents insurance, you may as well stump up the extra £100,000k for a place in West Hamstead proper and be done with it.
So, it's back to the drawing board this Saturday to bounce between flats for sale like human pinballs. To be honest, it's not like we have anything better to do. And in the meantime I'm going to make the most of the view of the tennis courts because I think they will soon be replaced by something altogether more urban.
Let me end on a note of appreciation and validation. I met my husband and daughter for dinner at a local south east asian restaurant after work today - it being Friday and all. As I kissed them both and ordered a beer and my favourite pork and prawn steamed dumplings, all I could think about was a nine year old child who has been trawling the rescue centres around the worst hit quake area in Japan - looking for his missing parents. My sense of appreciation for my family, my silly little life and the delicious dumplings heightened in that moment. And even now with everyone in bed and me about to join them in the land of Nod - my thoughts are with all those people who tonight, once again have to do without.
And in this sense I do take my hat off to Kilburn and it's community centres. I just don't want to live there.
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