|
p8
N16 has published a number of articles critical of certain aspects of the
area. These have usually been written by people who have lived here for some years. It's
interesting, therefore, to hear the views of someone who has only just arrived. Maya
Gabrielle writes freelance music reviews and has run an independent record label for the
past three years. She is an unabashed fan of Stoke Newington. Is she right or is she
seeing the place through rose-tinted specs? Let us know.
I am a Stoke Newington newcomer. I arrived here in January and intend to put down
roots. I was delighted to discover that a sense of community exists in Stoke Newington
which I hadn't experienced anywhere else in London. I had no idea it was possible to feel
'local' in the city unless you were born here now I am a proud resident.
London has always seemed like one sprawling mass of houses divided by clumps of amenities
and tube stations. I have moved from east to west, with few reasons to stay. Home was a
place to recuperate; the West End the place to meet friends. Anywhere affordable and with
access to transport would do and did.
Stoke Newington is different, it feels alive and independent from the city. It has an
interesting, cultural mix of people who appear to live alongside one another harmoniously.
I love the fact it's riddled with fringe theatres, galleries, venues and it has the most
beautiful cemetery to meander around on a moody Sunday. There is so much to be unearthed
here; the area has a sense that something is bubbling under the surface.
I have no complaints about the nightlife either. If the West End beckons there is the 73
bus, although I'd rather coax friends here for good grub and a relaxed drink or two. It is
rare to have such a concentrated patch of great pubs to chose from. The Shakespeare (on
Allen Road) is my current favoured haunt. It has a fantastic jukebox; my favourite
headache creator Hoegarden (beer) and a baffling bar-code 'zapping' system to tot up the
drinks.
The collection of local restaurants caters for every flavour or dish one could wish for.
Tandoori chicken 'Anglo Asian style' always floats my boat on a Friday night. The choice
is unrivalled outside of the West End and the cuisine truly delicious. Even the shops have
enormous character. Ribbons &Taylor's well-dressed window always catches my eye. On a
Saturday it's easy to while away hours happily (and whittle down the bank balance) ambling
along Church Street.
Inhabitants are welcoming and quick to sing the praises of the area. If there is a
complaint it's usually about catching a bus to work at eight in the morning. When the
third 73 has passed by bulging with people, tempers tend to fray. With the lack of a tube
station you might think the area would suffer but the North London line is worth the wait.
I have only begun to get to know Stoke Newington. The festival is coming and there is a
large shiny sports centre, growing slowly on Clissold Road that whispers promises of a
sleek physique. The future looks bright with summer picnics in the park. There are rumours
about natural health centres, yoga schools and jazz the Vortex way. First things first
though. Tomorrow I am going to become a member of the library.
That Old Silver Screen
 It takes quite
an effort to go and see a movie if you live in Stoke Newington. The excellent but small
Rio is the nearest; the Holloway Odeon is difficult for parking and public transport.
Leonora Collins, a long-time local resident, remembers the golden days of cinema in this
area.
When I read recently that some cinemas were to be listed as if they were stately homes or
relics of traditional industries I was reminded of the vanished picture palaces of N16.
Television existed in the late 1930s but anyone who saw it knew that its tiny screen and
flickery pictures were an interesting novelty but not worth paying for. Anyway the cinemas
were such excellent value: one spectacular film, one minor film (probably British, there
was a quota system), a musical interlude, ices, cigarettes and sweets for sale. Some
people stayed all day because it was warm, some slept, some couples found the back rows
the only place where they could happily kiss and grope. Anyone who has been to India will
be able to imagine the size, frame and colour of the cinema posters.
I include the Astoria at Finsbury Park, still existing as a building but now lacking any
grandeur. It was once encrusted with bright art deco panels outside and its interior
outdid the most extravagant decor for a film about Cleopatra, Hollywood millionaires or
the Borgias.
 Seats were not
cheap I think the cheapest were one shilling and ninepence (5.75p) but it was worth
it. As well as the 'big picture', fresh from a long West End run, there was a reasonably
good second feature, a newsreel (often rather dull with royalty opening hospitals,
Hollywood stars, politicians shaking hands and so on) and perhaps a travelogue, about
places which most of the audience had never heard of. The newsreel commentary was
patronising, with very posh accents, while the travelogue was equally patronising although
the accent was American.
In the interval the Mighty Wurlitzer organ bathed in changing rainbow lights rose
before a crimson and gold curtain and played popular tunes. Sometimes there was also a
short act by a comedian or magician.
The Regent, at the corner of Stamford Hill and Seven Sisters Road, was grand inside while
outside it was more austere and modern with showcases of film stills. Like the Astoria it
had a hotel-type foyer and a man on duty at the door dressed like an army general
with a hovering manager in evening dress. The programmes were just the same, the organ a
bit smaller and the curtains not quite so ornate.
The Majestic, further away in Broadway, was a world away in style. It had a sad
old-fashioned look and showed films which the Regent and Astoria had long forgotten.
Nevertheless it was very cheap (usually about 75p in modern terms) and people often went
to the pictures several times a week.
Some survive, such as the remarkable Rio, originally called the Vogue, which in the 1930s
showed short programmes of excellent films. It still does.
Many of the old picture palaces have disappeared, including the one near Finsbury Park
Station, now a leisure centre, and the Kenninghall in Kingsland which dated from the turn
of the century.
|
. |
