I had graduated from BealArt, 19 years old and the future was so bright I had to wear shades. After my recent escape from dinky Dodge for the ‘big city’ (or how I thought of it back then), I was footloose and fancy-free, at the top floor of this 3 storey walkup in Old South with my girlfriend. With its ’70s orange shag carpet which clashed garishly with the kelly green velvet sofa a family friend had donated to the cause, and with some divine synchronicity matched only by my tremendous excitement this dichotomy of colour combo actually matched the stain glass windows in the living room that flanked the now faux fireplace. We’d started out in a dinky one across the hall, but once this gobsmacker opened up we went and snapped it up.
This area of London rises as you come up from downtown, walking through Thames Park, and it’s only really when you come that way that you can actually see that ridge that defines the northern edge of the area referred to as Old South. Thousands of years ago that was probably the river’s edge.
I’ve loved the neighbourhood ever since those first heady days of freedom doing all the dings 19-year-olds do, ahem, and these are some photos of some of my favourite houses and streets, out and about on a winters day.