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In this issue

Mobile Mast 
Transports of Delight
Diane Abbott Writes
News in Brief
Local Advice for Ken 
Porn Free
Write On
Percussion Man
Speak Out!
A Taste of Turkish
Grape Expectations
Young Bolan
Straight to the Point
Joe Lobenstein
Festival Plans
Techtalk
Gardening
The Stokies
Gourmet Guide
Newington Green
Man in the North Bank
Crossword

Page by Page
p1 - p2 - p3 - p4
- p5 - p6 - p7 - p8
p9 - p10 - p11- p12
p13 - p14 - p15 - p16
p17 - p18 - p19 - p20

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Straight to the Point

by Sue Heal

  

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p12

People keep saying to me, 'If Stokey's full of nothing but dogshit, marauding crusties and poncy under-achievers in the deli, why don't you push off to the likes of South Norwood then ?' Good question. After all, I could get a bundle for the house.

Well, it's the folks what keeps me so cheerful. And I'm not talking about Church Street's infamous bellowing loonies, Olympic standard litter louts or glowering drug dealers. After all if pusher came to shove I'm sure I could find the latter anywhere. It is me mates.

The fact that if said house was razed to the ground overnight there are a dozen doors within wailing distance I could beat down at 3 am. That the occupants could be not in, too drunk to answer or up the Dordogne in a camper van only adds to the charm.

Of course, it can be a complete pain to dash to Stokey Food Store for a pint of milk, when life's a bitch, you look like you've been dug up and 26 people stop to pass the time of day and enquire about your bunions. But everyone says it, not just me, this is a peculiar place for friendship. 'Why?', she muses. I suspect for similar reasons this magazine was started and succeeds when it's hardly full of puffs for local prep schools and pieces on the best way to marinate an aubergine (But see p9, Ed.)

For all its ills, and they are manifestly legion, Stokey is a community. There's the obvious stuff like it's a one horse town, everyone sashays down Main Street, it's full of hacks a la moi who work a lot from home and the clincher - there's no tube. But no tube means it's a fag to escape from N16, especially in the evening when tinctures are to be taken. 'Oh sod it, let's go down The Fox,' you cry and find everyone else has the same idea. Cue nods, waves and community air-kissing.

Also N16 is full of people who never quite made it to the top of the tree.

They were priced out of the likes of Islington by the driven, ambitious and anally retentive who view their neighbours with polite caution and always have an eye to the quid pro quo. Such people don't make a community. But the 'almost a contender's' do. The quirks which keep them from the throne are the very qualities which make them friends.

We know the parochialism can get you down bigtime. This is definitely not the place to try to conduct a clandestine affair. But we rattle along together don't we ? Now - back to the Council...

Festival Snaps

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