Gritty Southern Drama

I live very close to Kilburn High Road, and walk along it every morning as I go to the tube. One of the interesting things about Kilburn High Road (and one of the reasons it was a bit shit for many years) is that it is the dividing line between Brent and Camden authorities, and so neither really wanted to take responsibility for it. Anyway, it received a grant all of its very own a few years ago and has been being improved ever since – although I do miss the shitness at times. It’s lovely having a Caffe Nero etc, but the character’s rather gone. Anyway, I digress.

It was icy this morning, as expected. I had worn my Cat boots in readiness. These, combined with fishnet tights and a pinstripe skirt, made me look like a bit of a twat, but at least I didn’t fall over, and I made it to work with warm, dry feet. These things matter in my old age. Anyway – once more, I digress.

I left my house, which is on a road on the Camden side of KHR. Plenty of snow still, and an awful lot of grey, frozen slush. Lovely. I stomped confidently in my big workman’s boots, sneering at the fools who had chosen to wear normal shoes. I then crossed the road, to the Brent side of KHR, and realised that there was something different about the surface underfoot. It was gritted. All at once it dawned on me: Brent have actually been gritting all winter. Camden – well, not so much. Suddenly the buses being taken off the roads yesterday made a lot more sense to me. Last night I pontificated to my mother on the fact that SURELY the main roads should all be salted and why on earth weren’t the buses running? However, when each bus is likely to be running through areas run by different authorities, there is no guarantee, if the difference between Brent and Camden is anything to go by.

Seems like local isn’t always better, after all.