The sweet smell of… New Cross

Arriving by train from peaceful Brockley, the first thing one notices in New Cross Gate is the smell of diesel fumes. Then it’s the rotting wooden stairs out of the train station that give way a little bit under each step. Then the noise…

The above picture was taken about a year ago, literally leaning out my front kitchen window in my flat. The 12 or so feet of sidewalk between me and the mass of traffic did little to soften the noise, a near constant cacophony of horns, stuttering brakes, accelerating diesels, and bus hydraulics, all audible with concert-hall clarity from most any room in my old flat: Batavia Mews.
I’m sure if it hadn’t been for the mice eating away the insulation in the walls, it would have been much quieter. Actually I doubt that made much difference, just another sound in the symphony which is New Cross.

It’s actually kind of nice to be back – knowing I don’t live here, knowing there are much nicer and quieter neighborhoods not far from here, and knowing that it’s all temporary in any case. But then I do get a bit nostalgic. We did have fun here, my flatmates and I (well, mostly not here, but in travels elsewhere). Such is life. I’m off now to see my advisor, then tonight to see some of those very flatmates. Good times in London.