I’m on Lonely Street, number fifty three.
Boarded up property,
I’ll probably get pulled down.
Litter all around inside there’s
no sound and no light.
But yo it gets busy at night, People creeping.
Derelicts sneaking to fix. Speaking.
On the way my timbers creaking,
Roof leaking. And bricks coming loose,
knee high in refuse.
But even though I’m a slum,
I’m still of some use.
There was a time when my walls where decorated.
And under my roof children where educated.
But now paint’s faded, windows are all smashed,
a crash in the economy robbed me of my family.
And no strategy, combats negative equity,
so that’s it. Like violence it’s drastic.
I’m freaking, and seeking to be
more than just a house for crack.
Somebody bring my family back.
Imagine our surprise on returning home to find what can only be described as half a tree in our front garden. Admittedly, the other half was overhanging the boundary line a little, which presumably squared things in our neighbour’s head when he found himself getting a little carried away. I’m not sure at what point he stood back and thought “yeah, good job, that looks fine” or whether he only stopped because his arm was tired (Let’s face it, he may as well have carried on and done the rest of it as well) but I’m sure you’ll agree that the end result is nothing short of superlative.
It might be because I’m old, but I would have expected that before emptying the shed of anything sharp, pointy and saw-ey, it’s kind of polite to mention that you’ll be clearing back any overhanging bits with the owner of the aforementioned over-hangy bits, especially if they could have lent you a nice electric hedge trimmer to actually do the job with (or even saved you the hassle and done it for you). We must have missed that bit though because this was the first we knew of it.
Apparently, they’re going to be putting a fence up. Given it’s our front garden I’m not expecting a 6 foot one (it’s just not very British is it) so I’m still not clear on how (or even why) the branches requiring a ladder were lopped off as well, but I will be watching that boundary line very carefully. Why worry that the panels at the end of their back garden are rotten and falling out (and at some point we’re going to end up with their dog in our garage) as long at the front has a nice new fence.
I’m still a little bit in shock to be honest, hope they don’t need any favours any time soon.
The traditional centre of Fianance and Insurance, a city within a City. Widely referred to simply as “the City” (often written as just “City” and differentiated from the phrase “the city of London” by capitalising “City”). Also colloquially known as the “Square Mile”, as it is 1.12 sq mi (2.90 km2), in area. Both of these terms are also often used as metonyms for the United Kingdom’s trading and financial services industries, which continue a notable history of being largely based in the City.
From the (slightly muddy) banks of Vange Creek looking towards the jumbled industrial detrius of the London Gateway Terminal and Old Corringham Refinery is this somewhat gloomy but busy view across the marshes.
EDIT:- Just noticed that the boat is called the ‘Pescadora’ which is Spanish for Fisherwoman, or Fisherman’s Wife. Not sure why I thought that was worth pointing out, but………