Carly had really enjoyed living in Highbury. And, for her, there was no reason to move. But her landlady wanted to move in and no amount of crying, remonstrating or other tricks by Carly to get her to change her mind resulted in Carly’s desired outcome. Staying in Highbury was no longer an option. And Carly only wanted to rent in the UK for one more year. So, she had to think carefully where her last home would be. Her kids, Tobes and Boo wanted to be near a tube station. Buses didn’t really cut it for young people who were always in a rush to get here, there and everywhere in-between. The train was too expensive, and the car had been given away. Carly spent all her money paying for fuel and parking tickets and she hardly used the car. In this new age of watching expenses, the car had to go. Her new home had to be in an affordable location and cyclable to work for Carly. She didn’t want to take the noisy and packed underground into work regularly. So, they all agreed on Walthamstow. Well, that was before they actually moved there.
Carly found a lovely house. Much like her previous two homes. Victorian, with a small garden and quite a few reception rooms, enough bedrooms and near(ish) to the Victoria line. For sure the best tube line in terms of speed and frequency. Just a bit of a hike to get there. But for her kids, walking is a good form of exercise, mused Carly. Often their only form. Carly smiles wryly. She cycles everywhere. But shhhhhhhhhh. Don’t tell everyone it is a pedal assist e-bike.
Carly likes lots of things about Walthamstow. Besides the good transport links, there are the wetlands and nearby Epping Forest. Also, Hucks is an excellent coffee establishment on her road. That is probably the most important reason for moving there. And she has met all sorts of people there. Her favourite is Michael. He pretends he is Michael Caine and repeatedly talks about “Not blowing the bloody door off” and she pretends she is Carly Simon and they both sing “You’re so vain, I bet you think this song is about you.” They both dissolve into fits of giggles, as no one around remembers that song, but they have, of course, heard of Michael Caine. Young people…
Carly is a bit overwhelmed by how friendly everyone is in Walthamstow. She already had an inkling from her ex-step-sister-in-law Tracy. She is actually one of her very good friends. She sees her, and her husband John, all the time. She has been to his allotment and has regular deliveries of blackberries, asparagus and lemon verbena. Tracy is really into birds and one of the highest earning RSPB bird badge volunteers in the UK. She rushes around in her retirement delivering badges to all sorts of establishments. Each badge costs £1 but no one really carries around cash or loose change anymore so she helped persuade the charity to get a QR code so people could donate what they want for each badge. Carly was amazed how much people would give. And in the last 12 months, Tracy has been responsible for 1,000s of pounds pouring in. Wow. But Carly isn’t really much into birds and there aren’t many purple birds which might be one way round this. Similarly, she doesn’t see the value of hours of toil at an allotment when it is so easy to buy local produce down the road at a local shop.
Carly has met quite a number of her neighbours. The day after she moved in, she was minding her business one evening coming home from visiting friends for supper. As she put her key into her door, there was someone shouting at her from across the road. “Oyyy, new neighbour, come and join us for some drinks!” So, Carly put her bike inside and rushed across the road. She met Paul the local chippie, Joe who lived opposite, Munir who lived down a side road and Jeanette a local dog walker, as well as her immediate neighbours Daniel and Sylvia and their daughter. She had a few drinks and had an absolute ball meeting all these people. It was so lovely and even more so as it was unplanned. They tell her about all the good and not-so-good local services like the vet and GP.
A few days later, Munir comes over with pears and Joe with apples. Everyone is super kind and friendly. She meets Malik one morning returning from the coffee shop. It is the weekend, and she sees a refuse lorry coming down her street. This seems a bit odd, but Malik reassures her it is normal for Walthamstow. She notices a bit of a commotion inside his house. Oh yes, says Malik. A black and white cat has been investigating. Ah, says Carly, she knows who that is. Gus is her cat and forever on a mission to check out other people’s houses. Later that afternoon she returns to Hucks. And this time Liv, one of the baristas, leans forward. “Have you just moved into 45 Grange Road?” Carly nods, a bit surprised. “A black and white cat has been coming in through my window and sleeping on my bed”. Gus again. No boundaries. Or even thoughts that he may not be wanted. Liv thinks it is very funny and doesn’t mind. Carly says that’s fine as long as she doesn’t feed him. He’s already a bit on the porky side.
Carly decides to throw a party to meet all her neighbours and invite some friends. They are all able to be outside and she is delighted her parents, and her sons join her. It is a complete hotchpotch of a gathering and going well, until her oldest son Haz warns them the table is about to collapse. Interestingly, he has never liked that table. And Carly has had loads of meals on it with no suggestions of collapse. Both before and after the party. “Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm” thinks Carly. I think there has been a bit of fiddling with that table because, sure enough, there was an almighty crash, bowls of popcorn and crisps as well as wine glasses come tumbling down, as the table ends up on the floor. Glass smashes everywhere making a large noise, but everyone rushes around clearing up. To be honest it brings everyone together and makes it an interesting focal point for the party.
Carly started swimming regularly in Highbury. This is both good exercise and a way to sort out things in your head. It has been really useful to watch everyone’s breaststroke. No one has even the remotest symmetrical legwork. Not one single person. Carly has watched hundreds of swimmers. On other occasions she decides to think about which length she is doing in multiples of prime numbers. Sadly 1 isn’t a prime number but 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17 and 19 are. This leaves 4 (22), 6 (2 x 3), 8 (23), 9 (32), 10 (2 x 5), 12 (22 x 3), 14 (2 x 7), 15 (3 x 5), 16 (24), 18 (3 x 3 x 2) and finally 20. Finished. And, at other times she ponders the rota – she is in charge of the consultant rota at work or how to write a tricky email. And she does like the pool in Walthamstow. The Feel-Good Centre pool is light and airy. But also, there are some strange things. It has a changing village. So, all genders are together. In the end it takes up loads more space as you are supposed to change only in a cubicle. That’s ok thinks Carly, but she’d prefer to be out of a cubicle really. And then there is the problem of the hair dryers. Carly likes to use them to dry under her breasts and down below. But this means in full view of the men. Hey ho. Carly doesn’t mind. She didn’t choose this way of changing. And so far, no one has come up to complain to her. One time she forgot her costume. In Highbury this didn’t matter, as she lived so near to the baths, she could hop back to collect it. But here in Walthamstow it is much further away. She went up to the front desk to see if she could borrow one. The staff looked aghast. She had no money so she couldn’t buy a new one. And she knew they just threw the lost property away regularly. In the end she persuaded them to see if there was one. Hey presto. She was in luck. They apologised that it was damp. But Carly didn’t mind. It would be soaking wet in a few minutes.
Carly also did as much as she could to meet local people. She signed up for singing at Natural Voices, woodworking lessons at the Forest Recycling Project and is having ukulele lessons so she could join a local band. You have to admire her tenaciousness to have a new local group of friends. Or maybe you will be worn out with her exuberance and inability to just ‘be’ rather than always doing, doing, doing.
