London, my London

Tottenham Hotspurs Football Club’s headquarters, White Hart Lane, stayed behind as I cycled on, on this – already – pretty warm August summer morning. My three-stadium bike tour was just getting going. Haringey’s High Road morphed into the A10 at Bruce Grove train station and the smooth surface gave a much-needed respite to my calves and legs.

Before you arrive at Stamford Hill, Stamford Hill is already coming out to meet you. Even before you get to the traffic lights on the intersection of Clapton Common and Amhurst Park, this north London district’s distinct feature makes itself known to the visitor. The conspicuous, high-crowned-black-hat-wearing, frock-coat-sporting Haredi were out en masse. To see them was to transport oneself to 18^th-century Europe whence these strictly-Orthodox Jews apparently originated. It is estimated that more than 20,000 Haredi live in this five-ward area of London. Their solemn-looking demeanour concealed a feverish, almost demented passion. I was aware of their ecstatic approach to praying, even if I had never ventured into one of their synagogues.

N16 is also renowned for another more recent, gentrification-related phenomenon. To some, the demarcation of Clapton Common to the east and southeast, all the way to Victoria Park, southbound Stamford Hill itself (including when it turns into Stoke Newington Road and eventually into Kingsland Road), Commercial Road to the south and Essex Road to the west, constitutes the Hipster Republic of North, North-eastern and Eastern London. Unfair, some others might say, after all, not everyone in Shoreditch or Hoxton has a £5-a-bowl cereal for breakfast or wears checked shirts. However, the label has stuck and the deeper you go into east London the more heavily hirsute mugs you come across. Ironic beards, never forget the irony.

I did not go down that way on this day for my date was with two other stadia: Arsenal’s Emirates and Chelsea’s Stamford Bridge. To reach the former I turned right on to Manor Road at Stoke Newington train station. A sensuous ease took over me as the combination of the late-morning warm sun and a – now – downhill trajectory allowed me to soak up my urban surroundings better.

An Arsenal fan: probably still waiting for another title... 12 years on

This was provincial London in almost-the-centre-of-the-city. The N16 postcode changed into N4 as soon as my front wheel crossed Green Lanes to get to Brownswood Road. Cars were advised to slow down as this was now a 20mph zone. Speed bumps became ubiquitous. Roads narrowed further down. All that was missing was a donkey-drawn cart to take me back to the trading days of the Nag’s Head market in the 19^th century. I do not know if any other major city in the world has the same knack as London of conveying intimacy, even when I knew I was getting closer and closer to its sought-after, much-visited tourist hub. These were not the suburbs anymore. N1, Islington is a tourist attraction in its own right with two main hubs, one, Islington itself, around Angel tube station and the other one, in Nag’s Head indoor market. I was only a short distance away from the latter. I had arrived at the Emirates, Arsenal Football Club’s stadium. I was still, however, on enemy territory. The sun had reached its zenith and the temperature was fast climbing up to the 30s. I needed to get away quickly, not only because on taking the photo accompanying this post people took me for a Gunners fan, but also because I still had to find my way to SW6, Chelsea Football Club’s Stamford Bridge. The next stage of my bike journey would take me through central London and along the Thames, a ride I was really looking forward to.

©2016

Next Post: “London, my London”, to be published on Tuesday 16^th February at 6pm (GMT)