I live in a crappy bit of West London but it’s brilliant. I can walk from my crappy bit to the V&A in an hour and it’s green nearly all the way if I choose the roads right.
My friends live in much naicer parts ‘south of the river‘, but I hate it.
Crossing the river is mental. Quite exciting going over it, but then you arrive at Wandsworth Town where the houses cost £3m but it is so suburban and roadbound it feels like you’re in the posh bit appendix of ‘Crap Towns’.
All the terraced houses in Clapham and Balham look exactly the same and each street seems to be a mile long. In Liverpool they’d cost £80k, but here that’s just what they’ve spent at Farrow & Ball on grey-green paint.
Everyone I’ve ever met who lives there is a bit thick and a bit racist. If my parents had spent half a million sending me to an elite private school, I hope I’d do better than a 2.1 from Newcastle (which they pronounce New Carsal).
There’s fucking MILES between train stops and tube stops. God help you if you get off at the wrong Clapham and have to walk to the right bit.
You still don’t find many black cans there, especially in the daytime, so can’t easily hail a taxi if you get lost between the many Claphams.
Brockley is fab but it’s like they worked out on a tube map, “Where’s the furthest place I can live in London but still claim I live in London?” Nobody would actively choose to live there.