My East Dulwich Cocoon

When BBC London news presenter Louisa Preston announced there was a fatal stabbing in south-east London at the weekend, my first thought was ‘bound to be Brixton…or Catford…or Lewisham for that matter’. Never did I imagine that the red, throbbing dot pin-pointing the crime on the BBC’s map would close in on my own neighbourhood: the eco-loving, organic meat-eating, Guardian-reading East Dulwich.

My reaction was three-fold:

1. Shock at the sheer tragedy of the incident: an 18-year-old stabbed to death at a birthday party at the local football club
2. Dreadful unease at the thought that this incident occured so close to my home. I mean, how unusual for East Dulwich that trouble of this sort would erupt in what is generally regarded as a safe, upmarket neighbourhood?
3. Utter dismay at my former thought.

How could I have become such a London snob to think that any area is immune from this kind of heartbreaking violence?

And when did I become so blind to the fact that East Dulwich isn’t just made up of middle class media types and their gaggle of bouncing babies all running about happily in a care-free, threat-free bubble?

Lordship Lane may be one of London’s best examples of regeneration, but walk for five minutes and you’re on the cusp of Rye Lane in Peckham, entering what feels like a completely different world.

Has moving to my East Dulwich cocoon made me feel like London’s problems are no longer my problems? Do all ED’s resident’s feel this way too?

I didn’t used to feel this way. When I first moved to London I lived on the (then)very cheap Clapham-Brixton border. My flat looked onto a council estate, and in particular the home of Billy Cox, the 16-year-old who was shot and killed outside his home in 2006. The blue tarpaulin was covering the front of the house for months afterwards.

I remember thinking at the time that, although this was a shocking act, somehow by being vigilant when walking the streets, and carrying on with normal life just like everyone else, that we could retain our sense of community.

Maybe in some way I felt that by doing so, those responsible for his murder wouldn’t win.

How quickly one forgets about these tragedies when there are three miles, a modern garden flat and several high-end delis between then and now.