When my son was three days old my husband took him out and proudly introduced him to his friends out and about in Brixton – at Ferndale Leisure Centre, O Cantinho, and of course, everyone at the local, before taking a turn down Atlantic Road.
I’ve always said it takes my husband longer to get home from shopping than it does for him to actually do the shop as he chats to everyone that will humour him on his trip. For example, he’ll stop at Marios and debate Chelsea with the (I think) father and son team, with their dry senses of humour and forearms the size of ham hocks. And then onto Mash, to have a conversation on how to cook a piece of fish, before moving onto a general chat about the need to keep wives happy (ahem). Before, of course, popping into A&C Continental Deli to talk about, well, whatever comes up. To give you an idea of the possible breadth of conversation, I once found my husband buying a DVD of The Professionals to drop off there because ‘the guy (Jose) from A&C told me he liked it’.
Anyway, it was just before Christmas and my husband and baby were taking the tour and eventually made it to A&C. Jose, possibly at a loss on how to cope with a clearly emotional feller, did what any generous, community-loving, kind person would do, and gave my husband a huge panettone as congratulations. I’d never had panettone before and it was delicious – I think we lived on it for a couple of days as we tried to survive the early chaos. So when my baby turned one we bought another panettone and said that each year that would be his birthday cake. I told this to Jose’s wife Anabella and she said that she did the same for her son each year for his birthday, pressing deep grooves into the soft sponge with her fingers and filling each hole with fruit and sweets to decorate it. I hoped this would become a long term tradition we could all enjoy.
I can’t begin to put in words how sad I feel at the idea that these shops, these people – our friends - are being forced out of their businesses and their working and living communities. Which is why I wrote this overly sentimental piece. Forgive the indulgence and humour me, but this is what Brixton, and Atlantic Road means to me.