All Kinds Of Levels Of Badass

Ed February 12th, 2009

A personal representation of a seemingly mundane, yet legitimately dull location

There comes a point when many travel blog writers will throw down their pens/keyboards and say, “I’m bored of this shit, I wanna do something else.” For most this will occur years, perhaps even decades into their career. It has taken me approximately two months. I think it is fair to say that not travelling would have some impact on this. But more likely it is the result of some form of cerebral epiphany, where my mind has stepped beyond the contemporary bounds of travel writing into something that’s got like, awesome stuff… and things. Or whatever.

The life of the travel blog writer is fraught with danger and reckless behaviour, I assume. Therefore the progression of my interests would invariably lead me to immersion in one place in particular. The most dangerous, shady-character infested, saliva drenched place I know. My local train station.

Introducing The Homerton Rail Project

In every day life the most unassuming objects or locations can often be the most intriguing. That is not the case here. For those of you unfamiliar with Homerton, which I assume is all of you, it is the place I now call home. I live within a 30 second walk from the station and can hear the whistle of the conductors at the station as I lie in bed at night. I can see the elevated platform from my window and have received many a suspicious look from the vagabonds who call it home. Perhaps in retrospect, I am the who appears out of place.

Homerton station acts as a hub for much of my activities. It provides direct overground service to Highbury & Islington and Stratford tube stations, which in turn provide access to London as a whole. It is therefore interconnected with almost any outing or social event I am involved with. This connection has fostered and developed into a solid love / hate (or should that be love / fear?), relationship.

The above photo pictures the home of our local hobo / mechanic “Robert”. A charming fellow, if you’re female. I must at this point apologise for the somewhat limited detail the photo provides. But walking past this gentleman’s lair with camera in hand, attempting to take discreet, stealth snaps is ill advised. Us travel blog writers are at home in all sorts of threatening and perilous environments but even I would shy away from Robert and his two massive dogs. And his grisly hobo/ mechanic buddies with their paper bag bourbon,  their oil barrel fires, and collective menace.

To be fair I am sure he’s a lovely chap given the chance. I simply have no desire to give him that chance as my flight or fight instincts over power civility.

This is the view of the alley leading away from the station. To the right of where I am standing to take this picture, is roughly where my room is situated. Also in this picture you will note the mounds of snow, piled up by the joyous and youthful small children of the area as they frolic. Those children are likely the spawn of ice demons and some woman who, while not made of ice, is still as cold and heartless as a blizzard on the surface of the moon.

They look like ordinary kids but when they’re lobbing great hunks of snow an ice at your window at 8:00am when your still in a state of booze related coma, you see through the veil of deceit. When you’re minding your own business, taking photos of people with a zoom lens and no consent, they’ll mercilessly pelt you with frozen balls of terror, until you run screaming and crying like a small child for the sanctuary of your house. Demon children inhabit the station. Beware!

Final words.

As much as I enjoy, and I mean really enjoy making a mockery of this little part of London, it’s apparent that I would not be investing time and effort into this form of documentation if our codependent relationship didn’t hold at least some affection. Despite the vast, unmissable flaws, the overpopulated housing, graffiti and filth, Homerton has a certain charm character. What it lacks in unique and quaint traits, it certainly makes up for in mediocrity and dishevelment.

I have lived in the area for over two months now and it has scratched out a place in my heart, be it a small, disrespected place.

At the end of the day, I have chosen to share it’s character with you, not so much to make fun of, it but so that you can have a glimpse into my Home (my Homerton. Get it? Sorry, I had to), and the environment I am a part of. It holds a portion of my existence and I will forever remeber it with fondness and mild fear.

• Absurdity we have been involved with , Places we have been to
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