qdtquietdownthere

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 11- A day of reflecting in an art gallery and painting, glueing and giggling in the sun.

Day 11

The waking up process, if it can be called a process, is the trickiest part of the residency actually. Waking up in your own bed, in Tottenham, seeing your flatmates, talking about the day ahead. It is a different world. I have to go from that, to the tube, then be in Pimlico. To this new, yet familiar place of comfort. What is the most exhausting is this point of change and transition- waking up in the life you are used to then diving into a day of fresh, exiting, uncertainty. No one really understands whats going on, and no one really wants to listen to me describing every detail of my day. I do not think this is something I would enjoy to do either. It’s lonesome in this sense. A temporary community which no one else is experiencing. That is so special though. I feel useful, like my existence and participation means something. 

I am very aware it is ending. Second last day. I am so comfortable now.

I walk around the area following a gentle map. I have walked these streets before. The Thames, the Bridge, the view of brutal Battersea, the tiny parks and the contrasts. There are so many contrasting textures, architecture and people. An area of extreme wealth, and then a definite lack of it. I feel uncomfortable with it at points. In my favourite park which sits just behind Tate Britain I watch a very wealthy man spend half an hour with a puppy trainer and his pedigree puppy. He tells me they have traveled from Devon. There is a visible contrast when you look for it. You can maybe hear it more than you can see it. I hear coffee orders which are 3 minutes long, decaf, soy, skinny milk. At the community centre in Churchill Gardens a cup of tea will always be milk and one sugar. I wonder where I sit in this pool of people, I wonder where other people see me belonging.

CCA is based next to Tate Britain and I try to go in to see the degree show but I am told it ended last week. There aren't many students around, ever. The whole time I have been in Pimlico I haven't noticed anyone who jumped out to me as looking like a student (whatever that means). I guess they have all gone home for summer. Over the past week I have seen a few Chinese students, as I guess flying home at such a high price isn't necessarily an option for international students. I wonder about the loneliness of living in this city when your purpose of being here is to purely be a student. I did my undergraduate at Leeds and it was the loneliest time for me. Sometimes I would walk to town, to the big Boots and back, just to get out, see people and feel like I was a part of what everyone else was doing. I worked all through university but I didn't really hang out with work friends, and with a class size of 10, well, there wasn't much social life going on. I wish I had gone out more, joined societies. Even if they didn't interest me, I should have pushed myself. I was nineteen and maybe I was shy, but I think what kept me being lonely was a reluctancy to say I was lonely to anyone apart from my family and friends who all lived back home in Edinburgh. I think about the mother I met during the babies library session at Victoria Library and how she was frustrated there were no classes on for her thirteen year old son. Kids don't want to look uncool, and I think this can continue for some people into university. There is a pool of opportunity in this pool of young people who are desperate to engage in a world, but scared and uncertain how to. No one whats to stand out from the self conscious crowd of teenagers and there is opportunity in making activities which both work with, and eradicate this. 

I walk across the courtyard from CCA and find a different art show; “Observer: John Latham and the Distant Perspective”. Latham’s body of work explores derelict land outside of Edinburgh and was developed from an artist placement with the Scottish Development Agency. The three month long artist residences took place in different locations, from industrial settings such as fishing villages to a residency exploring the mental health care service (https://mapmagazine.co.uk/john-latham-incidental-person). What was the desired outcome of these residencies? Well, the hope was that by involving an artist, “his creative intelligence or imagination can spark off ideas, possibilities and actions” ultimately benefiting development projects in Scotland (Lyddon, 2007). When the committee introducing Latham to the project asked if the artist was going to solve problems, Lyddon replied “No, the artist is going to show us problems we didn't know were there”. In the end, if there is ever an end to a body of work, Latham decided to explore the area in Midlothian from an areal perspective, or ‘from the distance’. It was from this, and through interacting intensely with archival aerial photography from the area, he was able to map out distinctive land features from the shale industry and turn these into a piece of re-conceived monumental, or sculptural work. The act of doing this changes how the public interact with the local landscape. I find the work fascinating and oh so funny to have stumbled into work made in this context during my time doing the residency in Churchill Gardens. I haven't continued to read into the work of Latham, but it has brought up interesting ideas as to how perspectives of place, how history, and fresh eyes can have an impact on how individuals engage with space. I think of how my view of the streets have changed since I began engaging in the area. How the image of a street morphs the more you walk down it. How the build up of memories connected to place erode and evolve as you step away then interact with them again. I am lucky to know these streets now and I get an overwhelming sense to draw them. Once again I'm excited by the power of naming, of bringing into the spotlight, places or people to create a transformative effect on how we engage with them. As I have been unable to draw or make during my time on the residency, I have taken up naming and writing lists of names instead. My diary has one section which includes as many names I can remember from all the people I have interacted with since my time in and around Pimlico and Churchill Gardens. Drawing cements and validates a memory or idea through the act of mark making, and I believe the power of naming and writing these names validates all the connections I have had to people over the course of the two weeks. I have found this at least itches my little creative scratch. Or rather, it scratches my creative itch.

In the afternoon I return to the Thamesbank Centre to volunteer with Shambush as part of the South west festival. With children from the surrounding housing estates, Shambush are holding creative making events in local community centres to try and create a way for children to engage with art and their neighbouring communities. We work to a brief which is to design, paint and glue onto paper ‘solar panels’ these of space, which will later be put together and secured to a huge metal structure and presented as a space shuttle in the gardens of Tate Britain. For each making event a child attends in their local area, they receive a stamp on their ‘space engineer passport’. It is a fantastic idea and I find it so exciting to hear that there is an activity in place to connect these very separate housing estates which tend to never really mix. When speaking to both Shambush and the local children who come to do the making session, it is apparent that Tate Britain is another world to this community. Im not surprised. It is a twenty minute walk away, yet completely inaccessible as a cultural engagement. This is sad but a very real reality.  Fine art is most easily digested by those with the confidence to enter into the gallery space and those with the education to understand how to interact with it. 

The kids are wonderful and messy and giggly and I laugh a lot with two girls in particular. We are silly and happy and I feel in my element. I feel so lucky to be in this space making with such interesting and wonderful kids. A group of boys come over and make maths themed solar panels. One boy manages to name every dwarf planet in our solar system and I feel very stupid when I talk about the ‘fire hurricanes on Venus’ (he probably knows the scientific latin name for them). Its so great how the space works. We are outside, the sun is shining, kids come and go and there is a real sense that we are in the heart of the community. We are on Peabody estate on Tachbrook Avenue so the street is lined by beautiful tall flats. In its centre is the park which is connected to the community centre, so every flat can watch down on us. I speak to one boy who is in year 5 and he says because of the park he has lots of friends who are older and younger than him. It is a place for all ages. 

Throughout the day only two parents come and talk to us and engage with the activities. Its a shame because so often it is the parents who are cautious and scared to venture out and try new things, and go new places which ultimately gets passed down to the kids. When we age we tend to view creativity as something that we have or we don't have. The older we get the more we become aware that we can or cannot draw. The older we get the more we isolate ourselves from activities and places we don't feel comfortable, or that accentuate the fact we cant draw, or paint or act. The kids seem to want to come to Tate when we tell them their work will be shown there, but unfortunately that isn't enough, it is about the parents. Pimlico toy library was great for this, and Shelia was really passionate that she was creating a space which was confidence building for parents. This is vital. 

The children power through the activities and start getting a little bored. I suggest making some space themed origami fortune tellers. Im worried that maybe I should have asked before doing this but Shambush are lovely and energetic about getting stuck in and keeping busy. The kids seem to love it and I get a real sense of right. I don't really know how to describe it. I feel in my element. This is huge for me and something which means the world when you're at the start of a career as a young artist who is still trying to find her feet. I wouldn't have had the means to experience bringing ideas to a children's art session before this and I feel so lucky that I am in this position. I feel validated that it is met with so much enthusiasm. 

The afternoon wizzes past. The father of the two girls who I had spent a lot of time with is brought down by his carer to go to the park. From the top floor flat their mother calls them up to go and help with caring for the neighbours. They give me lots of cuddles goodbye and run off with hands covered in glue and crisps. I cant help but think about what a potentially tricky life they must have, but how wonderful and giggly they are. I wish I could meet their mother and tell her how great they have been. How great all the kids have been. I leave and have a little cry down the phone to my friend because I'm so sad it has ended. It felt pivotal for me as just me, as someone who is unsure of my next steps, of what areas of work I would like to pursue. It is because of this afternoon, and because of this residency that I have been given this opportunity and this space to gain confidence and experience in wonderful exciting and giggle fuelled roles. 

Today is one of the best days I have had. Volunteering gives the residency a whole new level as i feel I'm working as part of a service which is effecting change. This is something I have a growing need to do. Its a wonderful thing that these two great volunteering opportunities with Shambush and the food distribution with Mike happened on my last few days. I feel I am more ready for them at this stage. I think about the residency ending, but on a larger scale, I think about goodbyes. I am not very good at them. I am home and I'm writing lots, I will have vegetable ratatouille for tea and I am going to have a gin and tonic too, because the sun is shining and I am happy. Big day tomorrow. Sad day. Big day. Last day. 

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 10- Baked Beans for breakfast and an afternoon of volunteering.

DAY10

Crack of dawn and the amber sun sits low on the horizon. 

I walk the streets looking at my feet. The pavements are not quiet, like I had expected. They are busy, but a different kind of busy, they are suit busy. People flocking to work. 7am streets are not my streets. 

I walked past Regents cafe earlier in the week, it looked proper London to me. A proper greasy spoon cafe with those seats which are bolted to the floor and each other. My Grandad ran a cafe a long while ago, and I will aways remember that smell of bubbling vegetable oil. Everything cooked from one pan. Honest food. Mums comfort food, but grandads. We used to call my grandad ‘grandad Pops’ because he drank lots of pop. They kept shelves of cans and 2litre bottles of pop in their garage. Proper British, wipe clean table cloths, chips and a can of pop. Thats what the cafe looked like when I walked past.

Today it is hectic, there is a long line and a woman shouting with the deepest loudest voice i have ever heard. There is a menu behind her, which looks like chefs specials, these include eggs Benedict and fish cakes. No one seems to be ordering these. Maybe they are for a different crowd. The most popular seems to be toast, black pudding, beans, chips and bacon. There are plenty variations of this, and everyone seems to know their order by heart. I go for beans, toast and mushrooms. This place seems like an institution. I put up an instagram about it and friends from Leeds and Glasgow tell me they have been there. I like my breakfast and its deliciously cheap. I feel comfortable and curious, so I'm not sat with my head down, I'm just watching. I have learnt to just sit and be and watch since starting the residency, which is a great thing. It is also a place I wouldn't walk into if I had to choose where to eat breakfast. This has been a fundamental-ditch avocado on toast. Im sure these places exist in Tottenham, and I'm sure there are delicious places to eat, i just wouldn't go. Now, well I would go.

I wander along to the market, which is still asleep when I get there. Its mainly food places. Japaneese burgers, falafel and a giant fish stall. There are a few locals chatting to the fish monger and I shout at someone “that looks good” but i don't get much interaction here. The wider area is very connected though, lots of coffee shops and charity shops. Once again, it is an area which feels like a little village.

From here I decide to go wander around a new estate and fall asleep lying on the grass in the sun as I watch the jumbo jets come in to land. The space is social, green and alive with movement. Parks for people to hang out and lots of benches. There are a few bee hives and i notice the area has received an award for this. Each flat seems so unique yet they are all identical. This is apparent in Churchill Gardens. The unified individualism of the flats.

I am anxious about volunteering this afternoon. I will be doing food distribution with Mike and ‘Helping the Homeless’. It is one of the best things I have done so far in the residency, despite me being initially, but internally so cautious. I think I am cautious because I'm scared to upset anyone. I don't want to be seen as this young girl rocking up for one session then fluttering away again. Its present, it is serious and the rates of homelessness is increasing. The amount of people relying of food banks is increasing. The food distribution comes out from a tiny little shed hidden in the corner of a housing estate. Its a beautiful housing estate, which once again cuddles around a lively, and busy playground. On one side of the estate is a building completely covered in tarps and scaffolding. Its being turned into luxury flats, despite being in the same square as a community reliant on a food distribution service. Im in shock. I am also, and once again in shock of the contrast. Walking to meet Mike i took many wrong turns and saw many beautiful streets and beautiful people. The streets smelt like flowers and perfume and everyone seemed to be living as it was a Saturday afternoon. This was happening just around the corner. I am saddened and in disbelief. 

Walking in to start the afternoon I meet wonderful Mike who shakes my hand very nicely. He is wearing high vis and is the centre of attention. Surrounding him are several people; Dolly, Charlie, Dee, Naomi, Claudio and an Irish man who speaks so fast I don't catch his name. He wishes me a happy life in his soft Irish accent many times and talks about his times living on the streets near Stonehenge. He also asks to inspect my hands and tells me I need to stop biting my nails. While speaking to him and hearing the sadness in his voice I am caught up by a worry about what to say. His world is so different from mine and I worry anything I say would seem stupid. Later Mike and I have a good conversation about how to cope and deal with listening to stories and information which is heavy. We've just got to be human. I find this day valuable on so many levels. 

Mike and I load a trolley full of several bags of food. They are bursting with fresh veg, fruit and nuts. Mike tells me that the work he does is not voucher based but based on real needs. Each household is only entitled to visit a food bank three times a month, at which most of the food on offer is purely tined or dried food. This isn’t good enough. I ask Mike how he works out who needs the food and how he reaches these people in the community, especially when they can be hard to find. He answers very simply “I just know my community”. Something which really sticks with me. 

We push this really heavy trolley along main streets towards Churchill Gardens. Mike uses a walking stick, which is unbelievable given that he is basically pushing something the weight of a large elephant along the pavement. The first stop we make is to deliver food to an elderly gentleman who's wife recently passed away. He doesn't leave the house much anymore and Mike tells me he often gets caught chatting to the man for a while. I wait outside out of courtesy but wish I had gone in with Mike. Eventually he reappears despite the elderly man showing him photographs of the grandchildren and asking mike to stay for a cup of tea. I cant help but think of the importance of Mikes role in this gentleman’s life as both a means to eat and as social interaction. This is the theme of the next few deliveries. Social isolation due to illness and age and confidence which prevents an individual leaving their house. One woman never answers the door and I cant help wonder if she is inside but is unable to come to the door for whatever reason. We leave the food on the doorstep. We end the deliveries on Churchill gardens with a family who thank Mike and give me the warmest Hello. 

Mike is everywhere in the community and even while we are gone for delivery he is getting phone calls every two minutes. He giggles so much and talks about all the groups and initiatives he has set up. I ask about younger people in the community and he names a few places and people who are doing wonderful things for them. Yet they are still no where to be seen to me. Yet again I haven't been with any young people since church or choir. I cant help but see the need for young, energetic people to help Mike, or simply interact with other people in the community, for everyone sake. The separation of age is continuously apparent.

We spend the rest of the afternoon sat on the plastic chairs chatting in the sunshine. We sort 50 black bin liners of crisps into the shed and blabber away as people come and go. It is an inclusive space once again. It is run by the community so there isn't this separation between user and service. The people helping are service users, yet there is no distinction. I forget this and ask Naomi if she lives close by, to which she answers with the story of how she got to be someone who was homeless and how she got to be someone who both uses the service and hangs around with Mike. This is empowering and I value this anonymity. I feel valuable in the conversation, as just another person bringing my experience into the chat but not being defined by it. We talk about so many things while mike goes back to visit the first elderly man to spend more time looking at his pictures of the grandchildren. 

This experience is brimming with generosity and inclusivity. Once again, it is about being a local and a regular. At its core it is about being someone who is guided by human connection and friendship, be it fleeting or permanent. I walk away from today with a further confidence in myself and in the power of one individual deciding to take action and make a change. So often before doing this project I would have overthought how to engage and make a difference in communities, including my own. I would have almost been crippled by trying not to upset anyone, make something effective and change driven. I always believed in the power of simply talking but todays experience set it in cement. The food distribution service isn't just about getting the most vulnerable and forgotten people in our community food, it is also about building a community and having a laugh and being validated through being given a space to talk and be listened too. 

I walk to the tube station and bump into Mike who is having a natter with the newsagent. I go home and have an ice cream and a swim in the pond at Hampsted Heath. 

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 9- Magic in mix ups.

Day 9

I start the day with babies. Completely surrounded by babies. I walk into Victoria library and ask for the story telling event but the man seems very confused and tells me there is no event. Ah! but there is! I get escorted to the baby library with a clear sign outside which reads “no unattended adults allowed” or something like that. I feel a bit peculiar to be there childless. When I sit down cross legged on the coloured carpet I introduce myself straight away to one of the mothers who is there with her little girl. Then for the first time ever in the residency- I introduce the project unannounced. Maybe to soften the weirdness of being a young person sat cross legged in a sea of children. The class is great and the children love it. It Is madness actually. There are toddlers everywhere. Something hits me about the session however as I watch- non of the parents talk to each  other. Even at the beginning, before the session had started, no one interacted. People then streamed out after the session had finished. Completely consumed by being parents. Which is fair enough. Its just fascinating how this space which was for kids and babies, was somehow ghost chaperoned by parents. The parent, and woman, who is spoke with told me she had a teenager and was looking for activities for him to do. This is the first time someone has reacted with a request for information when they find out why I am there. I like this reaction especially because I also feel there isn't much going on for teenagers, from what I have seen. We talk about how it needs to be cool but not sport. A tricky brief for self conscious pre pubescent kids and teenagers. I leave the class feeling broody, but needing a coffee and thinking about this lack of conversion. Im pickled. I eat some dates.

I pop into the Victoria shopping mall for a loo break. I am happy because they are free and clean and there isn't a big line. It makes me wonder about getting people out the house. An elderly person, or even younger people often worry about access to toilets while in public. I wonder how much more of a consideration is for disabled people, or parents with babies. I noticed on my first day in Pimlico library there was a sign on the door giving directions to the closest public toilet other than the ones in the library. I want to suss out the obstacles which will hinder someone from getting off the settee and leaving their flat. 

In the afternoon, something magic happens. 

It is magic from a big mess up…a mess up I made.

I ever so orderly walked on to the library to get changed into my leggings and sports bra for my afternoon session of yoga. After the last exercise class, I think it’s better to be overly exercised dress than under. I head over to Thamesbank centre gearing myself up then BOOM, I remember, Yoga is at The Abbey Centre. Which is 30 minutes minimum walk away. Class was about to start. This, however, is where the magic is. I initially think oh no what have I done, this is there residency ruined and then I though, what will I do for 1hr30minutes. Without much consideration or hesitation I wandered into the Thamesbank centre to see what was happening. Their door is always open, literally. I was greeted with big smiley faces from some of the older ladies I recognised from the ETAT session earlier in the week. Emily was also there with her carer. People were coming and going. Some were eating chilli and others painting. A war veteran who was at the last session was continuing to paint his remembrance poppy painted clock. It was a living room. I wandered to the back to sit with Edna and two ladies who I had been at Lunch club with in week 1. It felt natural and powerful because this was my decision. My connections. It was a space for me to hang out. I wasn't there with agenda or a task. I was there to spend 90 minutes just being. We spoke of all things, of Ireland, of volunteering, attractive dentists, fussy house guests and I was even told how best to eat spam (covered in batter then deep fried). I was also able to have a good conversation with one of the ladies who I had met at lunch club and got the sense she didn’t like me. We had a good chat and Im now pretty confident she does like me. I think. 

The whole experience felt really natural, which is something I know I crave. It was enjoyable for me, simply as me and I was proud that being in this community lead to choosing not to go to the library when I messed up, or had free time, but to put myself into the complete unknown. I then started drawing with a lovely young lady called Mazz. We exchanged pictures and I walked away feeling better than I have felt before In the residency. As I walked away I wrote: 

“I go back as a friend, as an equal, as just someone who is a bit lonely in that minute, to pop in and say hi. I am now a promoter or being a popper. I will advocate the hugely beneficial effects of popping in. Popping your head in. Stopping for one cup of tea. For a quick natter as the side of the street. There is power in the little moments. There is power in being a regular. Pop in. EVERYONE SHOULD ALWAYS JUST POP IN”

This has been overwhelming in my time here in and around Churchill Gardens. It has been overwhelming at how regular people are to activities because of the lack of commitment needed to be a regular. It doesn't require money, a rolling bank transfer, monthly subscriptions. People come and go and talk and talk it seriously or don't talk it seriously. The activities in place work at this point because they are accessible to people who don't know what next week will be like. I believe the quick fleeting moments of joining in with a space or activity for whatever amount of effort or time you can give is wonderful. It works on this level, and in this instance. 

There is a List which my Dad of all people gave to me many many years ago. It is titled ‘Golden Rules’ and at this point in my life, and in the residency it seems vital. 

(Excuse the poor picture quality)

Today has given me a deeper belief in the golden rules and a further sense of home in this community. I think the rules ignite what this residency has been, and what it continues to deliver. Tiring and vulnerable and gosh I have never needed so many baths, but it has been such a privilege to be a regular, to be tired even. The golden nugget of today however, be a regular.

I end the day walking round Tate Britain, nattering away with Charlie. We don't take in any of the art but its a great ending to the day. A happy day. 

ps. sorry I missed yoga 

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 8- Swim, clay and personal space.

Day 8

Today is going to be a busy day and I wake up and put on my swimming costume before doing anything else. 

If that isn't a wild start to a Tuesday, I don't know what is.

I get the tube to Victoria (one stop before my usual Pimlico) and head to the Queen Mother Sports Centre to go for a swim. It is odd getting off here. There have been major delays on the railways and the space is buzzing with frantic energy. Everyone is passing through. No one seems to stop. I down a coffee from cafe-disgusting-Nero before my swim. It is interesting wandering in a mad sea of people who are rushing. I like to guess what job they have and I wonder what they think I do when they look at me. If they look at me. There was a man on the tube this morning swearing at his laptop. I wondered what his day was going to be like. It is funny taking the tube every morning and being in this transient space. It gives me energy and I feel part of the crowd, but it is also so transient and so isolating. A swelling day population and I'm just one of them. As I walk towards Pimlico however, and towards the pool, the swell of people calms. I sit outside the pool and wait until 10am as I sip my coffee before I go in. I am enjoying sticking to the timetable as well as I can, This is the little bit of structure surrounded by unknown activities. 

The pool is quite this time in the morning. There are maybe only 5 people in the pool and we are all spread out. Absolute luxury. At first I notice how calm and clean the pool is. There are sheets hanging on the wall which contain workout guides. One for strength, one for cardio and there is one sheet titled ‘silver’ for elderly people. This one looks the most used, and 4 out of 5 of the people swimming today all have silver hair. This is inviting for me as the pace is relaxed. Im not ready to try and fight for a place in the pool. My last experience in Stoke Newington pool was not pleasant, whereas this is already a great experience. I stay for 45 minutes until the local schools start playing on the flumes and distracting the tranquility of the unified breast strokes happening in our orderly lanes. I hear two elderly men in the slow lane laugh with each other. Up until this point I have only spoken to two people today, and that makes me feel a little sad. Most other days I would have spoken to many people by this time. Swimming is also a lonely sport I feel, it is easy to be in your own head. Running for example, keeps your eyes busy and you get to smile at other runners. It is so easy it is to be out in the community, doing an activity in a shared space, but still lack engagement with another human. Later on in Tesco on Lupas Street I wait to pay for my nut bar and notice that the line for the tills run by a real human cashier are almost twice as long as self service. Never have I seen this in another supermarket before. A simple chore is buying food, but for older people, lonely people, it might be the little interaction they get in a day. 

After swimming, and sporting a beautiful chlorine barnet, I make my way towards Thames Bank centre. I pop into a few charity shops on the way. In both there are lots of young people, both working and shopping. Its nice to see some 20 somethings and when I buy a dress (which I now regret buying) we have a little laugh. Its nice to have this, and its interesting how the demographic has changed.  

Like the market at the weekend, it is wonderful to look in a charity shop and see the identity of a place and area. I think charity shops, and a sharing of items and style is a wonderful way to get to understand a place. There is a great book titled ‘the Comfort of Things’ (2008) by Daniel Miller in which the author, and anthropologist, goes into a London tower block to speak to people about their belongings and asks the owners to tell their stories. It is a wonderful and deeply personal book which unifies through difference, all around a backdrop of belongings. Charity shops for local areas remind me of this. I find comfort in buying something which has its own story. 

Thames bank centre is hosting ETAT (Encouragement through the arts and talking). I turn up a little early and walk into a room full of chatting, and laughing and there is clay everywhere. I walk in and have to introduce myself to everyone in the room. Everyone is elderly and they are all chatting away while deep into their clay. There is some confusion about who I am. I am there to come along to the class and do the chair exercises. This however gets misinterpreted that I am leading the chair exercise sessions. I don't really understand and go along with it. This has been the best approach to most of the activities. I start making clay into an underwater theme and then, luckily, like an act of god, the chair exercise instructor turns up and I'm off the hook. It makes everyone giggle. 

I am overwhelmed by the sense of community in the room, and once again this free, easy and non comital environment. The space is like a loud living room with clay everywhere and people come and go. Like a living room exactly. There is a range of ages, though I hear the oldest is 97. Once again I am the youngest, but this is something with invigorates me today, excites even. I feel like it is a space I would come to completely by myself. I sit next to a lady who I went on the Warwick trip with and we laugh about her attention to detail while making her ceramic tile compared with my botch job attempt. Yes thats right, I am an ‘Artist’. I speak to Jane and Karen (Who runs CAVE in Pimlico) about ETAT. They are far reaching and busy people. Pimlico million was set up by Jane who shows me videos and photos from events, exhibitions and footage of her singing at SouthWest Fest. They are currently preparing for an art show and ETAT have even recorded an album. However I am told that the album has a parental advisory because many swear words are sang throughout the song…. Again, the eldest member is 97. I'll just leave that there. What is apparent is how both Jane and Karen, and everyone for that matter, are connected to the community. They seem completely involved in its development. They make it feel this way just by  simply knowing everyones name. There is power in naming.  

Im a little anxious when I meet Jane and Karen, because I am nervous to be seen as a threat to existing services. It has been a challenge explaining why I am coming along to activities which haven't seen a new, or young, member in many moons. I stand out. I feel like a cultural probe at times. However, I'm also there for me. I am interested and excited by these activities and interactions separate from the schedule, the blog, and the cash to eat breakfast. 

We begin chair class in the corner of the huge room. There are around seven of us, all with a mixture of abilities. Emily who is in a wheel chair, a woman with dementia, Barney who is a Chelsea pensioner and wont stop laughing and then me who is giggling along with the energy of the place. We dance to music in our seats which are arranged in a circle. We play volleyball and Barney throws a mean punch. Its fun and I'm happy. I loose track of time and have to run out. 

Later on in the day, after a visit to Victoria library, I head over to the London Mayor’s Parlour to observe the council meeting of the health and wellbeing board. Im early and then I'm late and then I'm lost. Being lost is hard and I wonder what this residency would be like without a phone. Even more, without a schedule. It makes me see even clearer the obstacles in leaving an area where you grew up when you don't have the funds, the ability or the confidence to leave. It is easy to ‘other’ the next streets across the busy road. It is then easy to other the next community, the young teenagers, the refugees. I wonder how much of a knock on effect this inability to access certain spaces shapes us. Urban geography shapes us. 

The streets as you leave Pimlico become busy with suits and men who are walking like they mean business. The buildings get taller and it becomes striking that you have left pimlico. Again, the city scape, the gardens and the design of Churchill Gardens and the surrounding area give you a sense of a village. It is protected. I am desperate to draw this- desperate to map it out. 

I eventually arrive to the building I need to be at. In the foyer but the woman at reception tells me the meeting was last week. The only one today is on transport. I feel a little embarrassed but mainly because I'm a bubbly sweaty mess and everyone is in navy blue suits, not sweating and cool as a business man shaped cucumber. I ask to use the toilet but she says no, so I leave. 

It Is nice walking back to Pimlico and towards the library. I don't need a map anymore and that gives me confidence and a sense of belonging. I know where streets are and have a sense within me like a homing pigeon for the library. 

The day takes a turn and while waiting outside the library in the sunshine I get a personal call with some bad news. I am outside the library in Pimlico, but on the phone feeling very emotional. I am here in Pimlico but I'm transported into my life in Tottenham, in Edinburgh. I wish to be in these places now. I try and clean myself up to go into knitting, but when I walk in I notice only two people sat in the space outside the toilets,  knitting at speed in complete silence. It is not the right space for me at this moment. This is the only time I have felt an overwhelming sense of being in a place which isn't mine. I want someone to talk to who knows me and I want to be with my friend. I crave something normal in an abnormal situation and after abnormal news? For the rest of my night I isolate myself. I get off the tube at one point to isolate myself. To be in control. Its demanding giving all the time during the residency. I am always trying to bring energy. It takes energy to walk into a room, to try and engage someone, to listen to long stories, to listen to upset and to ideas you don't agree with. Even the stories which are happy and interesting, it takes energy. I know I bring energy to what I have been doing. I bring a genuine interest and care and a giddiness to talk and connect. I wonder how much I have given of myself. I told the women who I sat with at choir how nervous I was to sing and walk into the room, and it was in this activity which I felt most happiest, and most transformed when I left to go home. I wonder if I should have gone into knitting but be open and honest about how I was feeling and what had just happened to me merely 3 minutes before. How would this have felt? With action research I am aware of mutuality and transparency. It has been this. But I wonder if I had pushed it a little further, and let go of this need to make people feel good and happy and just talked about me, how would this change the residency and my interactions? I wonder if this had happened just before choir, would I have gone in? What is it about knitting club which meant that in that situation I couldn't walk in and be with the sadness I had just received? I believe it was the intensity of the situation, and the fact it was only two knitters sat in the library space. Even more so after this, I celebrate how all the activities and groups I have attended are relaxed and casual. One doesn't have to commit to a 5 week course going every Thursday night. Life happens. 

I am someone who recharges my batteries alone and I don't want to talk about hard subject with strangers. I know how to self sooth, how to get back the sunshine. I feel bad I didn't go in but in this moment it wasn't right. It has also shone light on the need for flexible activities in a community which inevitable will encounter childcare problems, ill health ect. Its about designing a service which despite all of what life can throw at someone, the service will continue to be outwards reaching. I think there is value and need for creating something which can be someones fall back. That in despite of sadness, loneliness or not feeling like leaving the sofa, one doesn't feel lonely and isolated from the culture and happenings of the community.

I go home and have a bath, watch some Netflix and I draw a quick drawing of a lobster. I also listen to Stormzy. Lots of Stormzy. 

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 7- Cats and dogs and aerobics.

Day 7

I eat a Portuguese custard tart from the library this morning. I am becoming obsessed. Tell you what though, they've made me a local, a regular, and I am now at the point where the lady who runs the cafe says hi to me in the morning. I say hi back too of course. ( golden rules- become a regular)

Straight to exercise class with a Portuguese tart still in my upper belly. Its in the community centre that the lunch club was in, but this time its upstairs in an equally run down space. This makes is a safe space though, it is nothing too snazzy, too characteristic to make walking into an unknown class scary. Unlike a virgin active gym or one of these snazzy soho gyms this space is honest. Honest is inviting. It is for everyone. 

The class is free and there is around 12 of us. Im told to wear comfy clothes so I am wearing a jumpsuit and a t-shirt. Bad call- I sweat profusely. It is a mixture of cardio strength and punching and dancing followed by a little yoga. We hold a plank position for 2 minutes on an off and I feel I am in some insane olympic boot camp. There is a range of fitnesses and our teacher (a local who knows everyones names) is encouraging and funny. I like being here and feel completely valid and welcome in whatever I am wearing and whatever my fitness. I speak to a lady after class who comes regularly and must be in her late 70’s. There is also a younger woman in the class who brings her little boy. He sits in the buggy and sometimes cries but it is not a problem. This relaxed atmosphere, no booking, no scary music, no ‘being late’ or issues about leaving early are a problem. It makes it accessible. 

The class is women only and this is for religious reasons, Sahara tells me (the class teacher) after our 1hr session. We walk and talk about art and the area. She talks about Churchill gardens history and the history of Dolphin square. 

So I head on over to Battersea towards the Dog and cat home. A different world. A free bicycle station is set up just before the bridge. Its funded by Westminster council and it makes me happy to see yet another free service. Again, it is approachable. I write on my phone as I walk, and as I walk over the bridge I look back over at Churchill gardens, with its amazing flats sticking out over the canopy of trees. It is oasis like. It seems to be cut off from the rest of the world. 

The next section is from the notes on my phone:

Battersea bridge. A huge development across the water. Flats over the bridge are all a development. Flats with concierge and glass balconies. The area and walk to the cat home feels like a new pair of shoes which need to be worn in. I don't feel so comfortable here, its so clean that it feels a little dirty.  I want to go back to Pimlico. They want to build a pedestrian bridge which will connect Battersea with Pimlico from Georges park. Pimlico is not happy with this…and the reasons? I have heard mixed opinions varying from who will it attract, will it bring crime, whats the point. More importantly the word ‘Waitrose' has also come up a few times. Elizabeth is keen to be able to cycle over and get to Waitrose, but a lady in my exercise class said that everything the community needs is on our doorstep (and how could we forget the number 24 bus which goes straight to the big Tesco) I notice that communities thrive in routine and comfort of the predictable. Don't we all? When I worked at the museum every day half way through my cycle home I would stop at one particular Sainsbury's express to get this one particular coconut chocolate bar thing. Creatures of habit and place. It is becoming more apparent how clear the boundaries of each estate and area are. Not in a hostile way. It is just common knowledge where people are from and where their street ends. So many times I have been told about roads or given direction with this confident presumption that i know each street by its name. This community is interwoven in its place. 

I fight constantly between ideas on expansion and local. But people want to belong to a group and a group that works. whats happening in Tottenham is not happening in Westminster ( Local maybe wins this short tangent of a debate) 

I am at Battersea dog and cat home. I eat another sweet treat and try to adopt a cat called Marley. It doesn't feel local here. I have an interview with a lady about my suitability to be a cat owner, during which I try to ask about the area and where the cats go/come but she tells me she cannot say as the work they do is so far reaching. Its nice though, and I fall involve with a big fat dog and a big cat fat. We would have all made a great family.

I walk home towards Pimlico, back along this major road but I duck into Battersea park, which is where I am writing from. The sun is on my laptop (I hope it doing combust) and a green parrot has just flow in front of me. I will stay here for a while thinking and writing and watching. I feel funny today, Its a bitty day. The schedule feels a little jolted, which it has never felt before. I think maybe it feels like this because i have left the area I have come to know. Its funny leaving it and entering new uncharted lands. Whenever i have done this by myself I do it on my bike. Walking is different. I can see why people don't leave Pimlico. Or why anyone doesn't leave their areas. Comfort and confidence. 

I am now sat eating a curry in Pimlico Spice and I do not want to be here. I am the only person in the restaurant and I order something i would never order. The two young men serving me are probably wondering what I am doing by myself at 6pm eating a huge bowl of curry. I would never go out for dinner by myself. Eating lunch- fine. But dinner? Actually maybe it would be fine if there was at least one other person in this restaurant eating. Not just me. At 6pm. I am funny about food. Brought up with broccoli every night I don't like to eat unhealthy things. Food is something we have control over and I like eating what I like and know. Sat here with the two waiters awkwardly walking around me I feel on display. Food, new food, is a social thing. I should have a friend here, or anyone. I wouldn't think twice about it. I don't want to eat the food I have in particular but it was a chef special and I think it is time to branch away from a Saag Paneer. 2 groups of people come in, all for take away. Eating dinner in a restaurant by myself makes me feel so lonely. I want to go home now. 

I am home and downstairs is a half eaten curry in tup a wear in the fridge. When I was on the tube I was worried it was going to spill everywhere, all over my lap and the floor and the seat, and everyone would know I am the girl who ate a sad curry by myself for my dinner. 

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 6- Churches and car boots

This morning I fell asleep sat up in bed. The covers were off me and I had my legs crossed. Completely sat up straight. But I fell asleep.

I think I am a little tired today.

I get coffee in the coffee shop just outside pimlico tube station, I can see Pret a Manger down one of the streets directed towards Westminster and I am happy I am not there, I am happy I am in pimlico, in this “little village” (said by everyone ever in pimlico, 2019).

Today is car boot today and the area has exploded with people. As I get closer to the school carpark/playground there are people everywhere, literal car boots and expansive stalls. There are people standing in the street drinking and eating some sort of stew. They are all Spanish speakers and I notice a man wearing a very Mexican pair of jeans. I try to start conversation and ask what is going on but conversation doesn't flow and I carry on. I have my coffee in my hand still and im just meandering. Wishing I had some stew. The streets are alive this morning.

Being outside in a non-space space, in neutral and mutual space is great. I love European cities for their markets and outside food stalls. I was recently in Mexico and one thing which really stood out was how a city centre square plays such a key role in peoples lives. From socialising, eating or simply just being. Sunday reminds me of these communities which use the city space as a place to mingle and be with each other.

At the market I buy a very gross but very lovely statue of a dog. The lady who sells it to me for the sweet price of £3 makes me go and look in her car at her real dog. He is named after a Russian philosopher and I embarrass myself when i try and say the name back to the owner. The market has young children selling their toys, antique stalls, mirrors and lots and lots of clothes. The whole area is here.

I slowly make my was to midday mass at the Holy Apostles catholic church, something i have never taken part in before. As i walk the groups of Spanish speaking people have disappeared from the streets and there is no stew in sight. I suspect mass will be busy today. I walk in the door of the church and hold it open for a lady coming in behind me. “gracias” she says. I cant help but wonder how great it must be for her to come to a place where she can speak her own language. church is packed and mass has already started. I walk down the centre aisle (for some mad reason) and then decide to sit in the middle of the seats so i’m completely surrounded (for another mad reason). I very quickly become aware that I am probably the only non Spanish speaker in the room. Afterall, who would go to Spanish mass if you don't speak Spanish?

Its nice to just sit there and think and watch. I enjoy it for a split second. I am glad I wore a shirt because everyone is very smart. I wonder if I should have my head bowed. Suddenly everyone gets on their knees and I feel so awkward that im just sat their with my head bowed. Some time later they all say a pray in unison and touch each cheek which signing the cross on their forehead. Again, I just sit. The grand finale comes when everyone suddenly upon the vicars wishes starts Turing round and kissing all the people immediately around them. Im red and shake everyones hand. Despite the embarrassment however, I feel warm.

The places and activities I have felt most relaxed, welcomed and completely enveloped within that micro community has been in places of religion. Nothing compares to the overwhelming warmth of becoming part of the choir which took place in the evangelical church.The hugs and the invites. Its a safe space and it really feels like that. Is it because there is such a spectrum of people, all there for one reason which is bigger than themselves? Old, young and at this mass, even a baby sat next to me. As an Atheist I have no belief in god or a higher power, but I believe, and want to be part of this community which is embracive and looks beyond oneself. I find this aspect of the residency fascinating.

After mass I am kind of on cloud nine, though do have a giggle about the redness of my face when everyone started to kiss. I wonder if they could tell I dint speak the language?

I sit in the park and want to draw.

I buy 3 nectarines for £1 and sit outside the station and devour them.

They are delicious.

I am excited by the confidence and energy I have developed. I though I was like this anyway. But this is different. I don't get at all worried walking into different situations. Sitting in a pub by myself now is something I wouldn't hesitate to do. These activities and the constant genuine human interactions have almost given me a next level in how to enjoy being. Enjoy simply being. I am confident in talking to anyone and I want to do this. I said good morning to my grumpy neighbour who never said anything, back but i don't mind. My dad once gave me a printed out piece of paper titled ’50 golden rules’ . One of the rules on the list was to be a local, or be a regular…something like that. I feel this now. It is a necessity.

The last activity for the day is a concert at Sloan Square Cathedral. It is a different world here. In this church and in this area. The music and the choir are beautiful. There are lots of grey hair white faces and red trousers. Actually, thats all I really see. I have a glass of red wine and at one point want to cover my ears because the organ is so loud its managed to get into the very depths of my brain. I try to talk to the lady sat next to me, but it doesn't go down too well. I sip at the wine by myself and listen and watch. Everyone seems to know one another. I feel like I am at church on Christmas Eve. It is funny because going to church on Christmas Eve has become a relatively recent thing for me and my family. My Dad has been with his partner for I think around 9 years now. Going to church a Christmas was something they have always done because of my step sisters involvement in singing. It too has become an event I have done for many years now too. I feel comfortable and I know whats happening. However there is loneliness for me too, as I am completely aware that everyone around me has been doing it all their lives, more importantly a lot of them know each other. In this second sat here in this performance at Sloane Square Cathedral I feel like a complete outsider.

It is from this experience tonight that I wonder if we can implement loneliness on ourselves?

I wonder if tonight I have a chip on my shoulder. If I am uncomfortable that the room is dominated by white men, do I automatically isolate myself ?  I wonder why in this situation am I more hesitant to go and introduce myself to someone new compared to those in the writing class, or the choir? Was it the formality of the event? A feeling of inferiority?

I think loneliness is effected by our confidence. I am less lonely than I was before I did this residency because I have simply had to do these activities. Going to these events and activities has  both required, and given me confidence.

I enjoy the concert and I end the night with a cup of tea in bed. I will fall asleep horizontal tonight, instead of upright.

​#tags

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 5- Warwick castle and long lost worry

I think I have been pretty good at giving up control throughout the residency. Pretty good at walking into new rooms, pulling up a chair and getting stuck in. But today is one activity I am a bit anxious about, because it is a full day event of getting on a coach and following someone else schedule. That is a bit daunting to me. I can still remember being wee and being at someone else house at a sleepover and all I wanted to do was to go home and be in my own space. I think I would cry until my dad drove over and took me home. Or just be a bit miserable for 12 hours. So really, I blame my Dad for the worry I am feeling over Warwick.

Today has been great. We meet at a pub situated at the end of the peabody estate which is comprised of a beautiful street with almost a courtyard running between two rows of houses. There is a park and flowers and at one end there is a memorial park and the Thamesbank centre at the other. The sense of local community seems from the outside as being quite tight, purely because of the proximity to great spaces and services. Back to the trip….(its so easy to write a stream of consciousness)…Around 50 of us turn up at the pub to get on the coach. It is s £15 if you're not a resident of the peabody estate and £10 if you are. This included crips biscuits, water, fruit coach travel, entry into Warwick castle and drop off/pick up in Stratford. £10!!! Edna who organises it is wonderful and as a volunteer this is clearly something she feels passionately about. I get to talk to Edna a little on the drive home. She tells me how this has enabled families to get out of the estate and have a holiday which they otherwise couldn't afford, or wouldn't have the confidence to take. The name pimlico million comes up again as the money funding this trip through Thamesbank centre. Today’s activity has been the most diverse activity have done and my age doesn't seem to stand out like a sore thumb. There are children and old people, a group of ladies from the Philippines who Edna jokes will talk very loudly all through the trip, so no one should sit near them. Its a warm and excited atmosphere and I feel at ease straight away, edna enables that but so does everyone else. There is a wide mix of ages and nationalities and it becomes apparent how important this is increasingly becoming in feeling less lonely in both the short term and long term. Im sat here now and I feel energised by spending a day with someone who is 60 years older than me, but having sat next to a young girl eating her white chocolate magnum. Its a representation of society and I like it. 

I spend all day with a lady called Elizabeth who is 80 but is full of life and owns 5 bicycles and has three draws filled with scarves. She lives in a council flat but is surrounded by privately owned homes. This is a reoccurring conversation and many of the things we talk about throughout the day come back to this. In how obese sense of community is put into a different orbit when you're neighbours are somewhat wealthy homeowners and you are not. Whats you're identity there. I find this fascinating when Elizabeth and i talk about it. She talks about the separate estates, the separate areas and boroughs- what each of these identify about a person seem to be significant. It tells of family and history. This has come up before, “My family has been here for generations’ and the fairs in each of the different areas to promote cross estate ‘friendliness’. This is especially interesting when bringing in the conversation of loneliness. It is a loneliness which goes beyond not having someone to share a cup of tea with, its loneliness within a community, loneliness because of your geographical location. Because everyone around you is upper class but you're in supported housing.

I am starting to see how local people really are enabling the services and activities in the area. It seems the most far reaching and most impactful ‘services’ are those which are created by the people living in the community. I can understand why people have been a bit wary of me and understand even more why when the topic of my purpose of being there comes up, its met with maybe less enthusiasm than I anticipated. Its a community working hard to look after itself as locally as it can. Street by street and by ages, needs and area. 

I am tired tonight. I thought older people liked to nap so was hoping to have one myself on the bus. However Elizabeth and i chatted and chatted all the way. I am starting to get connected to people in the community now and i would love to see Elizabethth as a friend. Its interesting how I am starting to connect here, i even think about googling spare rooms available in the area…

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 4- Fried egg and Henry Moore- Lunch club!

Day 4

Here I am sat in a room full of sculptures having walked from Churchill ward to the Tate Britain. Its a room full of Henry Moor sculptures. No one is here, just me, and some ambient light. Over there in the corner is a small black and white photograph on the wall showing one of the photographs in situ on Stifford Estate. The text says the sculpture was bought by the council in 1962 as a way to bring modern art to urban areas. But here it is, in the Tate Britain. A walk away from Churchill Ward. And a world away. Funny that.

Today is a hard day and emotionally taxing. I go to a lunch club at churchill gardens social club which is nestled within the estate. Its dilapidated and looks like it hasn't been used for a while. It also looks like it was once something big. There is a huge hall with a stage and a proper greasy spoon sort of kitchen. In one room they have set up tables for the lunches. Though there is only one place set at each table. As the first person to arrive i meet the chef and the lady who volunteers to run the cafe, serve the food and take the orders. She talks me through the menu..boiled bacon…fried egg…and then we start speaking about community…something she brings up. She talks of how the community has changed and how now she believes there is no community in the area. There are words used like ‘forigners’ and ‘not to be prejudice” and with that, for the first time since the project i feel i am in a situation i am not comfortable with. Well, i am being challenged. Its hard in this moment because there is nothing i can say as its not my community or my hometown. She talks of how she organised a tea club but that she had to stop it because people stopped coming, the boxing classes stopped, and now there are less and less people using the service. Everyone stays in playing video games. Everyone is different now to what it used to be. This is the rhetoric. The lunch club gets no funding. People don't respect the estate. 

I eat chips and fried egg and a piece of bbq chicken. Something i would never eat bit something i feel i should. Eating quiche and avocado isn’t the best way to blend in when you stick out like a sore thumb anyway. The food is different and im different. I get served a builders brew with so much milk in it but i drink it anyway. As a non milk drinker this is uncomfortable but the food is the culture in this situation. I sit at a table by myself and the people filter in as magic radio tv channel plays on a huge tv mounted on the wall. I try to make chat with an elderly gentleman to begin with, when its just us in the room but he's having non of it. I feel so out of place and the table is too low for me it scrapes my thighs. two women come in (though sit at separate tables) and we start chatting a little. One of the women Ivy, invites me to come to her coffee mornings on a Wednesday, a little happening she set up off her own back, no funding. Id guess Ivy is in her late 70’s. I listen to the women chat about crime in the area, robberies and health. I cant help but notice there is quite a lot of fear.

I am challenged because this is the most uncomfortable i have been and the time i have felt the most like an outsider. Is it because the conversation is different? because our views are not the same? It comes out that i don't own a TV and i feel even more like a black sheep. Im aware and worried i am coming across privileged.

I speak to one lady about the importance of getting out. The lunch club offers that to people. They go upstairs and do bingo after and even the people who don't speak, well they've gotten out their flat. Im told of how one member had a bad fall, lost her confidence, confined herself to the flat, went into a nursing home and then passed away. There is fear for the elderly when leaving the house. We talk about access in the area and she talks of one piece of pavement which is too hard to walk on. This is a real life obstacle she faces. It could even be fatal. With this in mind, for the elderly individuals who cant leave the house, TV becomes their only interaction with the outside world. Its the one thing connecting someone who is housebound to what is happening outside, its the conversation and voices of others. My lack of tv is a privilege because i can get out and speak and read and go to the cinema. Because i can afford to get the tube, to go for coffee with friends. Actually, i am not lonely or isolated because i am privileged in how i access the outside world. Obstacles of cobbled streets are non existent for me. 

 The people accessing the lunch club are cautious of the world developing around them. There is little control when you don't have much money and the digitalised world isn't making space for you. They are wary of how the estate is changing with different people moving in who ‘keep to themselves’. But where is the room for these groups of people to interact. for circles to mingle?

Im sat here in this exclusive hall of sculptures being shown as a piece of someonwhat revolutionary art and im angry. I am angry that there are all these views which are being bent and twisted into fear and rejection. These views and closed off attitude upset me but i also completely understand how they are created when one feels excluded from this society and community they are in.

I walk lots today, 23,000 steps in fact. I really want to draw today and i feel lonely in that no one else can share the experience of the day with me. I feel lonely in how lonely i was sat in that room. I feel bad for feeling this. 

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 3- Babies and loneliness

Day 3

Today is a hard day and i am feeling a little lonely, but not because im not interacting with anyone, it is because the people i am now interacting the most with are strangers. Not my usual circle of people. For the past few days I get home late and leave early in the morning. I have eaten dinner out and haven't cycled my bicycle. This is what i wanted however, to really immerse in the residency and community. I never anticipated it would make me feel this aspect of loneliness. 

But im happy, do not read my lonely as sad. (An interesting thing to say when working under a brief around loneliness)

I volunteer at pimlico toy library from the morning until 4.30, a local charity on the cusp of Churchill ward estate. The charily coming up to its 35th birthday and spend the day with Sheila who has been leading the centre alongside her co worker Maggie for most of those 35years. What becomes quickly apparent is that sheila is key in this community. She knows most of the children who visit us today by their names, including the parents. She tells me she has seen so many children grow up and most of the women ( and grandad) who come today have been coming for years with their older children. Once again its a warm place to be in, i feel completely at ease. I speak to most of the mums (and the grandad who works at a tapas restaurant in the area) They talk of how important the space is to them. An almost free space (£20 a year) with support and a network and activities. A mother with twins i talk to jokes about how her house is too small and too busy to make mess with the kids so this is great for them. Another lady has been coming for years, and now that her children are older, she brings along the children she babysits for. Motherhood can be lonely, especially when you're a first time mum, and pimlico toy library provides a safe space for talking and free play. I find it really interesting however that Sheila points out that its also a space and service which can help give parental guidance. The library organises supported excursions which due to cost and confidence are not readily available to lots of the families on the estate. Shelia says that lots of the families who are new to the UK and often living in the temporary accommodation have never been to the beach. The outings provided by the library provide that support, enable a little more confidence in parents. 

It is so easy to feel both locally and culturally isolated. Lonely even. The library provides space and support to bring families out from the isolation within ones home into both a sociable space, and to new locations and spaces. It seems to be tackling both ends of social loneliness. 

It is wonderful to see how the library is a landmark for the children and parents but also for teenagers and young people in the area, as a service they grew up with. Im increasingly interested in spaces where multiple circles of people and ages can interact with each other. Are our social groups, class groups and age groups lonely? We distance ourselves from one another. Old from young. one estate from the other estate. Loneliness seems to be a little more deeper than needing to talk to someone, its about feeling validated by, and within ones community. Noticed not only by your neighbour who you went to the same school as in 1987, but by the young man serving you at tesco. 

I ask Shelila what the best social activity is that she has seen happen in the area and she says it was the festival of fairs where each area(!?) or housing estate (?!) held its own mini fair. She explained that so often people are quite territorial in Westminster of what area it is you are from. she felt these events were wonderful from getting people out of the ‘my area’ mentality. cross connections. 

In the afternoon I meet Andrea Mann, a local Labour councillor for the area. This is a fantastic and energising conversation about access to housing and services. She suggests so many organisations and few things start to connect up from my experiences in the last few days. 

What starts to become apparent is that I feel new ways need to be developed to really access the people who are hidden in their homes. The real people who are feeling a little lonely. Everyone I am meeting is already in a circle, supported by a cultural group. At least for one hour of the week.

Something needs to be developed which is mobile as well as enduring. An activity and engagement which doesn't start at 3pm bang on and end with a teacher or workshop leader ending the session with “see you next week”.

I get carried away tonight and my head starts to fill up with ideas and lots of thoughts. I want to draw and make a huge mind map but I stop myself (as directed) and listen to lots of Stormzy which im still on a hype over since choir last night. Its a hard day and I feel a little emotionally drained this evening- volunteering was tiring and I felt I have given a lot. I look forward to talking it out. 

I will return tomorrow to delve a little deeper into my feelings and how they have changed as of today. 

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 2- A Tuesday of singing

Good evening! here is todays post...written by a very tired me after a long but exciting day. Hopefully it reads well enough. 

Today I don't write as much, and on the tube as i go to Pimlico i get this funny half feeling of home. most other places that i go to in London regularly are the areas i have worked, and goodness knows work doesn't feel like home. Its nice going somewhere which i have to opportunity to make it a space i have experienced for me. 

This morning i get on maybe 5 busses (then another later in the day to go further away from Churchill Gardens) The area is so secluded but It is surrounded by roads which busses regularly go up and down, i try to circle the ward but find it difficult. I read an interesting article which stated that a fifth of 2,000 polled struck up conversation with someone on a bus just to have some human interaction (Link at bottom). They go on to say how the side to side seating arrangement means someone is more likely to open up. I wait at numerous bus stops but people never hang around, they always seem to turn up exactly as the bus is coming. This is apart from tourists to the area, and watchful little me, who hang around. This makes it hard to strike up conversation but i am once again impressed by the routines and precision of how older people get about day to day. On the different busses i sit on, starting with C10, I'm aware that there is a system. Old people at the front, young people at the back. The elderly individuals take shorter journeys with the luxury of a free bus pass, and the younger people take longer trips. Im saying this but my claims are only based on a few hours of bus exposure. There is a particular stop by the Thames where a lot of senior people get off and i later discover its the closest stop to the old peoples home. I speak to no one on the bus but i notice that there are more “Thank you drivers” than i usually experience in London. Maybe this is the human interaction? 

This takes my mind to last night and one of the older members of the writing club who talked about his volunteering. I cant help but wonder if older people, particularly men, feel valuable from interacting in a way in which they feel they are helping. There seems to be lots of volunteer opportunities for older people around the area. I wonder if this desire to lend a hand is a good mask or dimmer for individuals who don't massively what to admit they are lonely?

I write on my phone: 

1) The toilets are good in the library and there are directions to other local toilets in the area. A good service

2) woman walking along street with shopping with her head down so its hard to make eye contact and then conversation.

3) asking for directions is good!!!!!

Number 3 is something which sticks with me throughout the day and is a wonderful way to start conversations and get to understand how people use the space. I ask a gentleman in Churchill gardens how to get to the bus stops by the Thames and he gives me some sneaky shortcuts. He lives in the old peoples home and will not let me help him with his shopping. Fair enough.

I meet another elderly gentleman who is passionate about the design of social housing. He is looking for a river running below Churchill ward and talks to me about how wonderful it is to daylight hidden histories of an area. I feel this is food for thought for the future. I future snack if you will.

Afternoon I do so much singing. First to the Abbey centre with around 20 older people all way above the age of 60 (once again I'm the youngest). We sing Elvis Presley and bruno mars and I'm terrible. After class I speak to a few people about classes here, and what becomes apparent is that most of them will spend an afternoon here, or a morning. The man i sit next to has just been to Thai chi, followed by choir, followed by something else. It feels like we are on a cruise for a split second. The notice board is COVERED in flyers for lessons, events, outings, but i speak to another lady from choir who says all she wants to do is go to a class which teaches her how to use her phone. 

after hanging around the centre for a while i head to my last activity of the day. Choir at the Evangelical church. And oh my goodness I love it. It. Is also the first time i go to an activity where there are younger people. This feels huge. There are old people and young people and a kid playing the drums and a lady who signs instead of sings. Its welcoming and warm and energetic. Im greeted with cuddles and prawn crackers. Im actually a little nervous in this space, but put it down to the fact i have the worst singing voice and now have to sing infont of 30 amazing singers. We talk openly about religion and loneliness of moving to london. I meet so many people who greet me with excitement and warmth. At one point i get handed a microphone and have to introduce myself to the group and say why I'm here. I tell them I'm doing some work in the area and have been told to come because the group seems wonderful. Im getting a little nervous with my introduction of myself and the project but everyone gets very interested. We sing Stormzy and its fantastic but I'm sat with people who can sing about 8 octaves higher than me and at many times i mime but with a huge smile on my face. We do warm up activities where we have to dance and hold someones shoplders and i feel so good in myself. I think i will go back when the next term starts.

I am so interested in how the dynamic changes when young people are around, and even more so I'm shocked that its taken to this point to interact with a person under 30years old. These seem like a key pocket of people who i need to engage with and find out what spaces they use. Most of the girls i speak to at choir have come from far and it makes me aware that i still haven't met anyone while at an activity which lives on Churchill ward gardens, everyone is from neighbouring streets and areas. 

I am challenged today, and tired. I ate a solero in the sun from a shop with the widest array of seeds and nuts i have ever seen and now my throat is sore. Im starting to wish i had 2 more weeks on the residency to return to the activities however to some i would like to return as me. Just me. 

Im going to bed now, with Stormzy in my head. 

[qdtquietdownthere]

Day 1- Action Research Residency

Hello Everyone...please find my very long reflection on Day 1 of the residency. 

Day 1

I sat in the cafe at 9.30 am and I was already shocked by the numbers of cakes being bought. The amount of cake being digested at 9.30am. It is hard to miss that these cakes are being consumed entirely by elderly men. At 9.50am two middle aged men come in and buy icelollys, they stand at the cafe and chat to the lady who has served them. The first person who I spoke with today was a man who walked in with a newspaper under his arm and shouted ‘good morning ladies” as i ordered my coffee. We had a brief chat about the heat, then he walked on. Newspapers have been a reoccurring theme today, and they have nearly always been under the arm of a middle aged man.

By 9.30am I am already plunged into both the concept and the happenings of ‘community’. There are signs everywhere for activities. Activities for mums, activities for the over 50’s, knitters, dancers. People seem friendlier here, the pace feels slower than what I am used to in Seven Sisters. 

This morning I attend a class called herbal heaven with 15 people, of which 4 of us are new to the class. Most of the women speak a mixture of Bengali and English. They know each other from school, and ‘about’. A lady who I sit next to told me she moved to the area when she got married. It was hard at first but eventually she felt settled. Mid way through the class the organiser, called Umm, turns up. She knows everyone by their name and when I leave she has remembered mine. Even with 4 new people in the class she still remembers my name. When i speak to her she tells me she is very active member of the community. She is heavily involved in the local school and works for a local charity. It is because of this that Umm has been able to oraganise what seems like an extensive list of free activities. The lady who sits on my left tells me that she crosses the river every Saturday to play badminton with other women from the local area, an activity created and organised by Umm. 

I get to make a face mask, a hand oil, and a bar of soap in the workshop put on by Hammersmith community gardens, the cost of the workshop was completely free. I feel included and at ease and the group add me to their watsaap group- The newest and hottest way to make friends.

The women I met this morning seem to be extremely present in their community. It is easier for women with children to meet each other and attend organised activities because they naturally have something in common. After class I go to speak to a lady who is sat flyering for activities organised by the Abby Centre. The first thing she asks is wether i have kids and i feel my answer (no) has limited the options available to me. Be it about the activities available to young childless women, or simply on a human level, we have lost something to connect over. 

I wonder about 20 somethings and their engagement in their community and their experiences with loneliness. I am excited to meet a mixture of people, but talking to another 20 something is probably the one age group i am least comfortable with. Is it because we feel the need to project that we are thriving and have a wonderfully social life surrounded by millions of fiends? There is more fear in being in a new situation, whatever that may be, if its met by a group of 20 somethings. I wonder where this notion fits in the discussion around loneliness and access to community. I wonder if other 20somethings feel this too. I wonder where they are in this community? What services do they access?

What i am already aware of is the amount of people, so many different people, who use the library. I become a member in the morning and sit and watch people go by as a i half heartedly read a book. There are kids, and young people, and one person with lots of shopping and a young professional looking man with an electric scooter. There seems to be a culture around the library. It is a culture i have never experienced before. It is a free space for everyone. London is wonderful for free space. Spaces offering toilets, shelter, and human interaction. These places are far reaching in a community but i am aware of the journey it takes before getting to that space. In the library i am surrounded by people who not only feel confident enough and accepted enough to use this space, but have the ability to actually get here. 

I am so shocked by how ‘available’ and well-marketed so many activities seem to be. I wonder if all these posters and adverts and knowledge about all the activities around the area has created a culture that expects that everyone will engage with these local services. Are community led activities a given? If this is the case then the culture prevents anyone from feeling l shy or nervous about attending these activities and facilities. This is particularly important because no one wants to say out loud that they are shy or lonely or need friends. I continue to wonder if on a wider scale we have created an idea that attending activities looks like a cry for help. I can see, and know, that it is much easier to simply keep ones head down, look busy and feel like one has control in feeling isolated. 

I walk around Churchill gardens for the first time and it seems like a little oasis. People are outiside walking, sitting. Flats are clustered within open inclusive green spaces and so many of the balconies are covered in flowers. Flowers and the odd St Georges flag. Its not what i expected, the architecture seems social. Where it is kept, between the Thames on one side and a busy street on the other, it feels special. Mutual space is how I would describe it, on my first encounter. Different levels of living, different levels of public space. I see similarities in the mentality of the library and the activities of the area with the geography of the area itself. I can imagine it is a wonderful space to be in when you have the ability to be in it. To be able to walk up and down the curbs of the pavements and get down from the height of the tall flats. I feel a little overwhelmed when i sit and watch people go by because i cant help but think the people who will really matter in this project are the people who are living in those tall buildings, but don't really come out. There are notice boards at the bottom of every flight of stairs in each tower block, i wonder how much these are used?

I eat fish and chips for dinner and talk to the chip man about Lewis Capaldi. He says he has lots of regulars, and low and behold, I would say about 60% of customers who came in he knows the name of. The chip shop has been there for 30 years and he tells me that he has grown up with the people who now eat there.

To end the day I attend a group called writing for wellbeing set up by a wonderful lady who created the group to combat loneliness. We write poetry together and I am so nervous to read it out loud. I even shake. They are encouraging and warm with the youngest member being 10 years old and the eldest, well id guess he is well over 60. Seven of us open up and write and laugh. It is here however that i become extremely aware, if not guilty of my fleeting time in this community. I have been asked and challenged a lot about my role and my ‘job title’. I have been open and honest but have noticed that i can potentially be viewed as someone coming into a community which is already working hard to create and maintain its own community activities. It is vibrant and proud and It makes me worry how i am seen. I am not here to suss out competition, or come in as an outsider to ‘fix things’. This is important, and an aspect of the residency I feel is important to communicate. I think what is maybe key, or what it seems after day 1 (sloooow down Tess) is that Churchill Gardens has so many available activities which the community seems to be able to access, and ones they are so proud of. It is in fact the people who are not sat around the poetry tables, or making bars of soap which are paramount. I wonder now, just before bed if ill manage to talk to these people. 

A wonderful day, with a belly full of chips and fish and mayonnaise. 

[qdtquietdownthere]

Welcome to Tess’s Journal

Tess Cassidy will be spending two weeks in South Westminster doing activities, attending events and visiting public spaces.  Read her daily journal here