Poem

To the Timeout Journalist who Slagged off Tottenham in that Column About Buses

Not so much an area than an affliction?
The heart of darkness?
Hardly.

The sun shines proud down West Green Road.
You should have got off the 41, should have strolled past Everybodies Music,
Watched Tottenham Skank to wound down windows
Of bashment boom and slick salsa licks.

Should have stopped for a spot of pide, moimoi, ackee and saltfish.
Should have popped into Seven Sisters Market,
But hurry; even gentrification finds it’s way up the Victoria line.

You’re right; Tottenham Hale is not our jewel.
The droning moan of traffic laps its cruel concretescape.
Not why Tota set up hamlet, yet the shopping’s not bad.

But unwelcoming?
No, this Outraged of Tottenham can’t let that go.
With half the world paused on pavement to natter,
And often to your driver.

Bitter? Yes, well maybe a little.
It’s easy to feel defensive,
When folk are offensive; sneer down at us-
But don’t get off the bus.

Though really, there’s you just doing your job,
And there’s me, just trying to reach Latitude.

I have to confess, it was funnier than remembered.
I’d thrown the thing in the recycling bin, had to call;
Your colleague was lovely and sent a copy,
I felt a bit bad.

OK, so fine. I don’t take it back but you might like to know -
I do buy my booze down Tottenham Wine…

catherine hillis
london, UK

Catherine lives in Tottenham and likes it.

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