burnley road

It was 1995, towards the end of. The whole year had been rootless. Moving along the 2 bus route, from Tulse Hill to Crystal Palace to Brixton and back again. Burnley Road is just past Stockwell, heading for Brixton. I was looking through Loot. The pressure was on. I needed somewhere to live, to be settled, and I needed it soon. I was still signing on, so it was going to have to be somewhere that took DSS. Burnley Road is a typical London street – white stucco pillars, part of a faded commuter belt, been through decades of decay, probably only now on the point of regeneration. I rang the bell and it sounded like a civilised party was taking place inside. A middle aged woman came to the door. A young man carrying a glass of wine came down the stairs, followed by another woman. The woman who opened the door owned the place. She was genial. She offered me a glass of wine. She was apologetic. She had no problem with DSS, but the room had just gone. To the man walking down the stairs. Everyone seemed very happy; and very sorry for my misfortune in being one viewing too late. I didn’t stay for a glass of wine. Next week I discovered Trinity Square, future home to blinding Barry and the poisonous fridge. Since then have been past Burnley road a thousand times and more, but never walked down it once.