North Versus South

I had dinner with my friend Rachel the other day. Rach and I grew up round the corner from each other, and spent most of our school days ‘studying’ in Café Nero and dissecting text messages from Adam from the bus or Matt with the nice hair (‘yesterday there were three kisses at the end, today it’s only one – he’s going to dump me right?’).

I love Rachel. However I don’t see Rachel nearly as often as I should. Why? Because she lives in Dulwich. 

Now, approximately half of you reading this will be getting a little indignant. ‘What’s wrong with Dulwich?’ I hear you cry. It’s great! ‘Where the fuck is Dulwich?’ the other half of you are probably asking. It’s a pretty safe bet to say that your reaction will depend on which side of the river you make your bed. So, are you a north Londoner or a south Londoner?

I was actually born a south Londoner. When I raised the idea that I might in fact move to Islington, my friends reacted as if I had just suggested going to live in a burnt out Renault Megane that had recently been dredged up from the Thames.

‘You’ll definitely get shot,’ said Ellie, peering distastefully at pictures of Upper Street. 

Not wishing to tempt fate, but two years on, not only have I not been shot, but I am a bona fide north London convert.

We have tube stations everywhere, and buses that go into Soho, Old Street and Shoreditch in 15 minutes. Upper Street is bursting with bars, restaurants and independent shops, while Clissold Park and Stoke Newington Church Street give us wide open spaces, fresh air, vintage clothes and as many cream teas as you can handle.

For me, north of the river gives me all the best that London has to offer. South of the river has the overground, which goes to erm, Waterloo, and last time I tried to go to Dulwich, a tramp dribbled on my shoulder on the bus, then woke up shouting: ‘they’re here!’ before pressing the emergency exit button and leaping off the bus, dropping his can of Special Brew on my foot. 

In the interests of fair trading and equality, I decided at this point to consult my south London friends and give them a chance to put forward their clearly inferior but still valid argument. So I sent them an email. Then I went and made myself a nice cup of tea. I returned, about five minutes later to be greeted by 23 responses. I am a fair and reasonable person, so I have decided to totally ignore everything they have to say.

North of the river is better. Fact.

Image by kevgibbo courtesy of Flickr