I was the archetypal reluctant Londoner up until fairly recently. I moved from the 22mph Yorkshire Dales to 122mph London around this time five years ago (feels like yesterday). After renting a shoebox in Islington for two years, my Converse were seeking better value per square feet, so I found myself moving to the Green Lanes area of Finsbury Park. Anyone who is familiar with Islington knows that there is little necessity to venture any further, it’s fairly self-sufficient. However, the danger is that one can spend their entire life in this compact chi-chi environment and lose all perspective of the broader context of London.
It is an extraordinary privilege to live by a park, especially in this metropolis. I’m positive that having doorstep access to green space has saved me from dropping the odd marble. In the course of five years I’ve taken time out to stroll through as many of London’s park’s as possible, and yet I still love Finsbury Park above all others. It’s trees are phenomenal, and in springtime the park explodes with cherry blossom the likes of which I’ve never seen anywhere else. There is a natural easy magic in Finsbury, it doesn’t need to try hard to be a great park.
Green Lanes (according to Wiki) is possibly the longest road in London, so I can’t speak for it’s entire stretch, however the area adjacent to the park is choca with authentic Greek and Turkish deli’s, cafés and eateries. The food options are seriously mind-boggling and it’s possible to eat like a siroche na dache as my mum would say; an orphan at a feast, for a fiver. It took me a while to really appreciate my local habitat, it’s a radical adjustment from the manicure of Islington High Street, but I wouldn’t trade it for all the chi in London. There is an authenticity to Green Lanes Finsbury Park, the love of which gravitates to the heart by some mystical force of osmosis, and sets up camp.
At the back end of this summer, I spotted one female artist strolling barefoot along the Ashram, canvas in one hand, fag in the other. It made me smile; this area has become a magnet for all types of artists and musicians, which I was oblivious to when I first arrived; from Stokie’s artist studios to Finsbury Park’s warehouses, Green Lanes is fast becoming the new frontier for London’s creative edge. There is a palpable feel-good buzz factor in the area, and it’s on the increase. Houses that were begging for TLC are receiving much-needed make-overs; the Ashram is certainly looking tidier than it was even a year ago.
Hoxton and Spitalfields have experienced their own brand of radical regeneration, however, there is a double-edge sword of pretension that creeps in like poison ivy; the ‘too cool for school’ syndrome kicks in which thus negates the original authenticity that makes an area so coveted in the first place. Green Lanes Finsbury Park is relaxed to horizontal; there are less obvious foot-holds for the developers, and with a pumping east-European artery, she is more likely to keep her virginity in tact. Either that, or we may have to invest in a chastity belt.

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