It is a crisp, clear morning. You can’t quite sea the Eastern horizon and the sunrise from our house, as we face North-South and the new flats all down the street are too tall. When we moved here, if you stood on the toilet and poked your head out of the top bathroom window you could see the Gerkin. So long as you remembered to put the seat down first, otherwise you’d end up with a wet foot. No longer. The new flats block the view.
Still, looking at the back you can see the rising sun reflecting off the wall of the gasworks. Actually, they aren’t gasworks anymore. Town gas is long gone. Coal no longer makes it way up the canal from Limehouse, to be coked and sent back down, presumably bound for homes that still burnt things, but wanted a smokeless fuel.
No more coke. It’s bad for you.
But for a moment, Hackney will still and silent. I’d been standing on the balcony last night, listening to the sirens in the distance. I like the sound of sirens. It means life. Something is happening out there, even if I’m just standing on a balcony, hanging school jumpers on an airer. Still I enjoyed this peaceful dawn, when I was the only person in the house awake (for a little while) and all the washing for the week has been done, and it’s time for the first cup of tea of the day.
There isn’t a cloud in the sky today. Not one.
* With apologies to Dawn from Hackney
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