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...and suddenly, nothing happened
Tuesday, August 9th, 2011 11:29 amThe irony of it all is that this morning, walking down the High Road, I was able to remark that because all the shops and the takeaways from Salmonella Row to the General Havelock pub had shut up early yesterday and closed their steel blinds, I had rarely seen it looking so clean and tidy.
The complete absence of any source of fast food, alcohol or even cigarettes and soft drinks combined with a heavy police presence seems to have defused the situation around our way at least.
I didn’t know most of this last night, of course, so it didn’t stop me personally from spending much of the evening in a funk of nervousness that I hadn’t realised I was particularly capable of. You see it went like this:
I knew nothing of the spread of trouble when I left work yesterday evening. I knew, obviously that there was continuing volatility in and around Tottenham, but there was no word at that point, of anything spreading beyond the immediate overspill.
While I was on the Tube going home, my phone buzzed just as I was pulling out of the station at St James’s Park; that station is shallow enough to get intermittent signals even on carriages. It was a message from ingénue_the telling us that gangs of youths were collecting in the High Road. At the next station I briefly got the signal back and received a message from ellefurtle suggesting I get the bus home to avoid the High Road and then I was plunged into the usual electronic blackout as I went round to Liverpool Street. I have a rather active imagination, so this afforded me all the opportunity I needed and more, to speculate on the basis of virtually no facts.
On the train up to Ilford, I made the mistake of checking Facebook and Twitter. The sheer amount of speculation, claim and counter claim on the latter –the majority of it hopelessly inaccurate - managed to ramp up my anxiety even further to the point that I more than half expected running battles on the street when I exited the station.
There weren’t.
What there was, was a large number of people milling around, far more than is usual for that time of the day. They weren’t threatening in any way; they seemed to be largely curious. Had anything kicked off, I imagine the streets would have emptied post haste. More worrying though, was the number of hooded and masked youths weaving through the crowds and making their way to the High Road. Again, nothing aggressive, but all very intimidating. I got on the bus, which was more packed than any I can remember for some time and we made our way slowly along the route. The journey was slow because the traffic was very heavy and barely moving.
Away from the High Road, it was relatively quiet, though unbeknownst to me similar scenes were building up on Ilford Lane that leads down to Barking.
As the bus got nearer home, we swung around the one-way system back to the other end of the High Road by the police station, where again there were crowds of people just standing around. A couple of police cars had been parked across the entrance to the High Road to form a road block and there were police in riot gear getting ready.
Nearer home it was eerily quiet, though I noticed another large group of people accumulating outside the Christian Centre just down Connaught Road. I was very relieved to get inside and shut the door, I can tell you.
And as yet, NOTHING had actually happened. My nervous agitation was clearly hyped by taking the basic situation and exposing myself to too much uninformed tattle on the social media and later a constant barrage of news on the BBC News channel.
Whilst the situation across the city was clearly serious, it was defused quite quickly and efficiently in our locality. Hopefully it will stay that way, but in the meantime, I have rediscovered the effect of the media and developed a healthy respect for the influence both of the News Media and the social networks and their ability to spread worry far more efficiently than they do calm.
Part of my concern I am convinced, is the realisation that no matter what happens, we have no Plan B. Until we bough The Gin Palace, I had some money saved –not a lot, but some - and was tied to the area I lived in only by a lease. I could up sticks and go if I needed to (and frankly I never needed to; I always lived in rather better to do areas in previous times). Now, my assets have been sunk into the Gin Palace. I don’t regret that, but it does mean that I am now irrevocably tied to the area and the building. I am out of options. I am where I am and I have to lump it.
Mostly, this is fine: I like my house, I like my garden, I have a gorgeous fiancée, lovely neighbours and friends. But for a few hours last night, the four or five hundred yards between us and a potential riot were just too few for comfort.
The complete absence of any source of fast food, alcohol or even cigarettes and soft drinks combined with a heavy police presence seems to have defused the situation around our way at least.
I didn’t know most of this last night, of course, so it didn’t stop me personally from spending much of the evening in a funk of nervousness that I hadn’t realised I was particularly capable of. You see it went like this:
I knew nothing of the spread of trouble when I left work yesterday evening. I knew, obviously that there was continuing volatility in and around Tottenham, but there was no word at that point, of anything spreading beyond the immediate overspill.
While I was on the Tube going home, my phone buzzed just as I was pulling out of the station at St James’s Park; that station is shallow enough to get intermittent signals even on carriages. It was a message from ingénue_the telling us that gangs of youths were collecting in the High Road. At the next station I briefly got the signal back and received a message from ellefurtle suggesting I get the bus home to avoid the High Road and then I was plunged into the usual electronic blackout as I went round to Liverpool Street. I have a rather active imagination, so this afforded me all the opportunity I needed and more, to speculate on the basis of virtually no facts.
On the train up to Ilford, I made the mistake of checking Facebook and Twitter. The sheer amount of speculation, claim and counter claim on the latter –the majority of it hopelessly inaccurate - managed to ramp up my anxiety even further to the point that I more than half expected running battles on the street when I exited the station.
There weren’t.
What there was, was a large number of people milling around, far more than is usual for that time of the day. They weren’t threatening in any way; they seemed to be largely curious. Had anything kicked off, I imagine the streets would have emptied post haste. More worrying though, was the number of hooded and masked youths weaving through the crowds and making their way to the High Road. Again, nothing aggressive, but all very intimidating. I got on the bus, which was more packed than any I can remember for some time and we made our way slowly along the route. The journey was slow because the traffic was very heavy and barely moving.
Away from the High Road, it was relatively quiet, though unbeknownst to me similar scenes were building up on Ilford Lane that leads down to Barking.
As the bus got nearer home, we swung around the one-way system back to the other end of the High Road by the police station, where again there were crowds of people just standing around. A couple of police cars had been parked across the entrance to the High Road to form a road block and there were police in riot gear getting ready.
Nearer home it was eerily quiet, though I noticed another large group of people accumulating outside the Christian Centre just down Connaught Road. I was very relieved to get inside and shut the door, I can tell you.
And as yet, NOTHING had actually happened. My nervous agitation was clearly hyped by taking the basic situation and exposing myself to too much uninformed tattle on the social media and later a constant barrage of news on the BBC News channel.
Whilst the situation across the city was clearly serious, it was defused quite quickly and efficiently in our locality. Hopefully it will stay that way, but in the meantime, I have rediscovered the effect of the media and developed a healthy respect for the influence both of the News Media and the social networks and their ability to spread worry far more efficiently than they do calm.
Part of my concern I am convinced, is the realisation that no matter what happens, we have no Plan B. Until we bough The Gin Palace, I had some money saved –not a lot, but some - and was tied to the area I lived in only by a lease. I could up sticks and go if I needed to (and frankly I never needed to; I always lived in rather better to do areas in previous times). Now, my assets have been sunk into the Gin Palace. I don’t regret that, but it does mean that I am now irrevocably tied to the area and the building. I am out of options. I am where I am and I have to lump it.
Mostly, this is fine: I like my house, I like my garden, I have a gorgeous fiancée, lovely neighbours and friends. But for a few hours last night, the four or five hundred yards between us and a potential riot were just too few for comfort.