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After my weekend jaunt into the drug den that is just north of Camden Town, I found myself last night walking down Goldhawk Road, by mistake. I was meant to be walking down Uxbridge Road, but I get confused around Shepherd's Bush. I was looking for Bush Hall, but when I got to the station, I saw a sign for Bush Theatre, and mistakenly, I followed that sign. Needless to say, Bush Theatre is not only not the same as Bush Hall, but it's in a completely different street. It's a bit like all the Portland Places and Portland Streets near where I work (Great, Little, but, as far as I am aware, never Big, Mediocre or Poor -- although I quite like the idea of living in "Mediocre Portland Street") in that The Shepherd's area is absolutely full of Bushes.
Anyway, Goldhawk Road continued the metropolitan and cosmopolitan nature of London, making the movie Crash look like some kind of single-nation statement of solidarity. But the most marvellous sight was that of a man of middle age and uncertain ethnic origin (Lebanese? Iraqi?) heading home, wheeling an old television set on what looked like an oversized skateboard. It was so touchingly third-world that I couldn't help but smile.
This part of London is just south of a block of Council flats filled with refugees and the like, amidst roads named in the 1930s, "Jan Smuts Avenue", "Australia Road", "Bloemfontain Way" and the like. It adds to the surreal nature of the whole thing. I like it round there, even if people do get killed or savaged by dogs every so often. It isn't even "North London", even though it is north of the river. It isn't quite the "West London" of Acton or Ealing. It's an area all of its own.
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Anyway, Goldhawk Road continued the metropolitan and cosmopolitan nature of London, making the movie Crash look like some kind of single-nation statement of solidarity. But the most marvellous sight was that of a man of middle age and uncertain ethnic origin (Lebanese? Iraqi?) heading home, wheeling an old television set on what looked like an oversized skateboard. It was so touchingly third-world that I couldn't help but smile.
This part of London is just south of a block of Council flats filled with refugees and the like, amidst roads named in the 1930s, "Jan Smuts Avenue", "Australia Road", "Bloemfontain Way" and the like. It adds to the surreal nature of the whole thing. I like it round there, even if people do get killed or savaged by dogs every so often. It isn't even "North London", even though it is north of the river. It isn't quite the "West London" of Acton or Ealing. It's an area all of its own.
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