When this was home: Hackney Wick.

Photos I took in the exact same spot ten years apart.

Hepscott Road, 2009 and 2019

Smeed Road, chicken factory, 2009 and 2019

Stour Road, Peanut Factory, my old home, (we’re all in that first photo, me inc) 2009 and 2019

Bream Street, (someone crossed the road name out and wrote “Motherfucking Pedo Street”. Have absolutely zero idea why) 2009 and 2019

the sudden stark loss of people, and road name, in that last one really weighs heavy on my heart.

Inside the Peanut Factory we built our own rooms. By which I mean, my dad mostly built mine, and I stood around a lot. (2008)

It was a strange place. Unedited. Freezing in winter, boiling in summer. No heating, no windows.

For a while our nearest cornerstore was a short walk away on Roman Road.

Once, it flooded so badly we were in a foot of water. Took 12 hours to scoop the water out.

It was, looking back on it, an absolute shit hole.

Still, I’ve never cried harder, or felt more bereft, moving out of a place.

Winter 2008, some people from a warehouse round the corner showed up for an Us vs Them snowball fight.

There was something v special about being very few people living somewhere no one was meant to be.

And summer, when we did absolutely everything outside on the otherwise empty street.

Those green leggings I was wearing are disgusting.

It changed after the Olympics. It’s a different world now.

I feel something close to sadness for the people who will never witness Hackney Wick when it was like this.

It was bleak, and wretched, and it stank; and it was beautiful, and joyful, and just really fucking special.