This post doesn’t have a title as such. A postcode, yes, and an indicative address in south London but more than that? No. This is neither a restaurant review, an account of a colourful farmers’ market, nor a spotlight on an up and coming south London producer. So why just Clapham South?
Well, I’ve only gone and moved, haven’t I? Come March I will have lived in London three years, and in those three years I’ve hopped and skipped through five flats. You know the drill; every time we Londoners move we inevitably say “well I’m not doing that for at least another two years”.
Well that’s bullshit.
Something happens, good or bad, and we’ve got to up sticks and find another lone (cheap) corner of the Big Smoke. I had come to love Brixton a great deal since moving there in January – the sights, the sounds, the hobos and the hipsters. Times have however changed.
For one reason I find myself in a wonderful one-bedroom flat in Clapham South. The wonderful thing is that I get to live with who I want to live with, which those of you who have had the blessed experience of sharing with inordinate strangers will appreciate.
Now I have my own kitchen, my own pots and pans, a whole fridge – not just a shelf – and – look – space for this beaut!
Having your own kitchen definitely gives you back your cooking mojo.
“You know what, I think I’ll just whiz up some muffins seeing as though housemate x hasn’t gone and stole my blueberries.”
(She had a blueberry – verging on the side of fetish – addiction.)
Or: “Bugger it. There’s feck all on telly. I think what this flat is missing is homemade bread.”
So that’s all there is to it. A new flat, a new location, a new kitchen. More cooking. Someone get me a pinny.
Better change my Twitter bio too; A Brixton dweller’s blog. Nodanymore!
If you’ve got any recommended haunts in the SW12 region, lettuce know. I’m already a fan of Balham Bowls Club; good beer.