Chatsworth Road

There's just a couple days left in the shared flat here on Chatsworth Road, Hackney.  I've really enjoyed my time up here and it will feel like a distinct demotion in cool to move to Bow.  But I'm trying to cheer myself up with the prospect not only of my own lovely place to myself, much cleaner and cozier and better furnished, but also with the prospect of learning all about Bow and becoming a real Cockney, within the sound of Bow Bells. The whole Mysterious East of London has been a slow revelation for me-- since so much of history is written by the rich, my historical appreciation of London has (so far) largely been restricted to the center and west end of the city. Plus of course the disreputable Bankside of Shakespeare's day, which is still a haunt for people out for a good time, only it's pretty pricey, everything is dwarfed by huge office buildings, and it's a decidedly more elevated fun than in centuries past.

Anyway, now I'm an East Ender and I'm about to leave Hackney, but I've enjoyed Hackney.  I wanted to give you a tour of my London landing pad.  It is … a real London experience. There are three working addresses for this place:
1. 12a Chatsworth Rd, London, etc
2. Flat Above Shop, 12 Chatsworth Rd, London, etc
3. Above African Video Centre, 12 Chatsworth Rd, London, etc

I admit I have not taken nearly enough advantage of those second two addresses. Why oh why did I squander my 6 weeks here without once arranging for mail to be sent to Michelle Carriger, Above African Video Centre, 12 Chatsworth Road? Now there are only three days left and it's too late. Flat Above African Video Centre was on the market before I moved in, and has now been sold so the new owners will take possession sometime after the end of October when the last of the flatmates moves out.  So now is the time to give you a little tour of the first part of my East Enders odyssey:

 Here's where I've been living. Above AFRICAN VIDEO CENTRE. The windows with the red and white "Sold" real estate sign are the common room. My window faces the back. That's good, because it's quiet. You can also see at the corner of the building, from the side, the minicab sign. That sign flashes until late at night so that everytime I walk past the front windows in the dark I think there are cops out front or construction until I remember that it's the flashing light on the minicab sign.

 When you enter you go up these steep stairs to get above the Video Centre and Black barbershop and Nigerian take-away. And the mini-cabs.  I'm not sure actually where the Nigerian take-away is headquartered, but because I'm a little afraid it's inside the barber shop, I haven't tried it.

 Then you go into the kitchen or you go up more stairs.

 Here's the kitchen. The door is held open by a brightly painted child's scooter. There is a dirty IKEA rug on the floor.

No one uses the kitchen table except for me. I think they probably have a chair in their own rooms, but I don't. So sometimes I sit here. I look out the window at the Roj Supermarket Off License, open till late. And I can see my favorite little French bakery and coffee shop, Doree and Co. And the charity shop I go into almost every time I pass. And next to the newsagent is the chippie, which is a falafel place (behind the greenery). Sometimes people in Britain spell that felafel, which looks somehow like a dirty word to me. Look how weeds just grow out of the roof. That happens all over east London. I like it. 

These heads are part of Neil's collection. Neil is the flatmate who is a set stylist on photo shoots. He is the reason the flat is full of crazy stuff. I do not envy that he has to move in a couple of weeks. I know too well what it feels like.

This is the bathroom. The bathroom probably shows the best how crazy it is here. I'm used to it now, but the toilet was very scary at first. To flush it, you have to pull hard on the bungee cord elastic tied to the flush mechanism. It's hanging down to the right over the broken handle. The second time I did that, the cord came off and I tried to get it back on and failed. Someone else retied it later and it hasn't come off again. I'm good at flushing the toilet now; you just have to pull it hard like you're starting an old lawn mower.

 Here's the toilet paper. Now you can see that it's very dirty here.

 Here's the hole into the tub space.

 

Here's the peeling paint. Below is the painted over vent. I wonder when that vent worked?

 Here is dirt. John swept it into this corner on the day I arrived while he waited for the taxi to bring me. It's time to explain that while probably no one in this house was a great housekeeper, there is actually a reason why it's so filthy: they wanted to keep living there but the owners had put the flat on the market, so as a little act of subterfuge, they let it become extremely disgusting in hopes of scaring off buyers. Admittedly, a lot of the work had been done for them-- the place is extremely run down. But Chatsworth Road is gentrifying fast, and such a gambit couldn't last forever. Now someone will surely come along at rip it to the studs.

 Look, I can pick up a floor tile myself and see old rotten floorboards underneath.

 Here's the common area. There's a clothesline that I used a couple times when it was empty. There's Neil's prop stuff. See, there are people even more packratty than me! Albeit he has a professional obligation.  Here on the right is the sofa-- I guess they're not using it.  I stole one of the cushions shortly afterward to sit on in my room.

Here it is! My room!  It's really totally fine, especially after I eventually figured out how to turn on the heat if I want it. And the person I rented it from left me his bed. I have to drag it out to the curb when I leave Wednesday, but I'm going to keep the sheet and blanket he left for me. And some nonperishable food.

 Over there is everything I brought so far. I recently found out that they won't deliver the rest of my stuff until the very end of October. I'm sick of the clothes I brought so far and the weather has "turned" as people keep saying. I wish my coat would come sooner than that.

Here are my shoes. Only some. The rest are on the sea. And that hanger I borrowed for when I made a clothes line of bungee cords across my room from my window to the hooks on the door. I needed more length so I borrowed that from the horde in the common room. It's funny when I'm drying clothes though, because I can barely open the door, as it's bungee corded to the window with all my laundry in between.

This has been my house. It's a little shocking, but I'm used to it now. And outside, there are such nice cafes. So many espressos. So many up and coming gentrifying things. I will feel much less hip when I get to Bow this week, but there will be new adventures. And actually I feel very ambivalent about how much I like the gentrification. I mean, I enjoy it, and I feel ambivalent about my pleasure. And I think as I get to know Bow, I'll come to like it too. A new chapter.