LONDON

London is my home, I have always loved London.  Every time I see pictures or hear about London in the news I get pangs of homesickness. I feel safe and at ease in the busy streets and amongst the loud noises and chaos. 

Out of my bedroom window I could see a small concrete garden with the shed in the corner, the window smashed where a branch hit it one windy night.  The corner of the roof flapping in the wind. When the aeroplanes flew into the airport the flight path was so close to our house, the whole place shook. Every morning at 7:00am the American Airways flight would wake us all up. I knew then that it was time to wake up and get my uniform on - a blue polo shirt with the Honeywell Primary School emblem on the pocket. The next plane at 8.15 would tell me that it was time to leave for school.

Dad and I would step out of our house and bang the big blue front door behind us. Rows of Victorian terraced houses lined our street. Some were really scruffy with blackened bricks from the smog and dustbins strewn untidily outside.  Others were much neater with pretty hedges and shiny front doors.  We used to run across the park scattering the pigeons and dodging the dog poo and arrive at Clapham Junction train station along with hundreds of other school children, businessmen and women. We jumped on the overland train to Victoria, puffing and panting as the doors closed quickly behind us. Dad and I used to name all the posh cars that drove by. I would always look out for the Aston Martin DB9, that I saw once but never saw again.

We would run to catch the green east bound district line tube.  If it had rained, we would splash people with water from the puddles and giggle quietly as the stern businessmen got upset. It was during this part of the journey that I would always make up stories in my head, about the people who were sitting opposite me in the carriage. Some men were spies and others were celebrities in disguise. I would recognize the people who got on everyday and would smile at them politely. I used to imagine what my life would be like when I grew up. Which tube line would I be travelling on, where would I live and where would I be going to work? The thought used to scare me so I would hold dad’s hand and he would look down at me checking that everything was ok . I hugged Dad goodbye at Tower Hill and ran through the station as quickly as I could because I was scared of the hoodies who stood in the corner. As I ran though the school gates and looked up at the big brick building I breathed a sigh of relief, I was safely at school - I had made it.