On Not Leaving

To whom it may concern,

We are residents at *****************, ******************* and ***************

We came to know these buildings in the capacity of London Caretakers. The original premise, our function, was to protect them from any intruders and potential squatters - a role which we have endeavoured to uphold. Since moving in 2 and a half years ago, our community and professions have developed in ways we never imagined possible. Living in such a space has facilitated a progression for us all. The plentitude of space combined with an incredibly close-knit community of artists and creatives has led to great things.

It is amazing just how many projects and initiatives have been launched from this community. We have set builders from many of the most prominent UK festivals in our fold, a Friends of The Earth events officer lives here, as do the events team from the Youth Sports Trust, a member of the Bow Arts Trust. Others are writers, editors, musicians, producers, artists, designers, jewellers, film-makers and performance artists. This area is a hub, our HQ. Without it, yes our art would have continued, but with it - it has exploded. We have made a success of the way we live and what we do.

The news that we have to move out imminently has come as a massive blow. Not only is this our home but many of us use it as our place of work. We have made the best practical use of the buildings possible; picking up where the previous owners left off. We have developed the workshop, beefed up the recording studio, built a jewellery workshop and craft corner. We have housed exhibitions, poetry nights, lectures, tournaments. We would like to invite you to come and see for yourselves. We are not merely security guards, employees of London caretakers, we are upstanding members of the Bow community and the East London artists corner.

We are fully aware that our primary role is one of security. We understand that we live here fore-mostly as caretakers. And this position has been - and is - important to us all. We take this role seriously and it is one which we can be trusted to maintain. We all want to stress that the moment the owners want to develop the building we will leave. But we appeal to you now to let us remain in our creative hub, our home, until that time comes.

Come and visit and see what we are all about.

Yours, with thanks,

The Sugar House Gang.

Happy Anniversary

It is over a bloody year since I started this blog.

A year on, I'm drinking wine at my new desk, thinking about the weekend. At least I was when I began this post. That's how low on my list of priorities this has become. It's because there are no deadlines, no boss - except myself and I'm a slacker at heart. There's no charges if I fail to post, no disappointed faces if I fail to show up. No one to sheepishly text if i'm bailing, no one to worry if I come home drunk and disgraced - or not show up at all.

The addition of a blog to my life has meant i have another thing to feel guilty about not doing. And, in the same way it must irritate my boys that 'everyone's a DJ', the fact that everyone has a blog means that no matter where I look there is another writer brandishing a more industrious diligance to their art, and a URL with updated content to boot.

Well, S, J and B - this one's for you. You've all helped me remember how it can be to have a new friend - breathless, inspiring and life-giving. You're all fucking awesome. And I appreciate the urging, the nagging, the cherished requests for my words more than I can ever describe. And I am stating here and now that I will document what's currently occurring in the freakish heart of Bow - because it's too special not to and really, I don't think it will ever repeat.

In other news, the fickle torchlight of my attentions is currently fluttering over the shiny surface of swing dance, my home life remains a schizophrenic haven of tranquility and wildness and we all know we may be kicked out at any time but still secretly believe it will go on forever.

Life. Goes. On.

Sugar House Gang

Dreams have been coming true left, right and centre for the people of Bow. This small and unlikely pocket of young creatives who have infested a dark corner of industrial East London have been allowed (somehow - thanks to a great loophole in the fabric of The Way Things Are) the freedom to do as they please, have been bestowed space and time and each other. And the results are simply wonderful to see.

But with the onset of another year came news that we may have to relocate. Will we won't we? Does this mean the Sugar House Chapter closes or can we replicate, or develop, the community we have created elsewhere?

Answers on a postcard please.

2009

Has been the 'best year of my life'.

It has brought me many new friends, many inspirational, wonderful friends who are now as close to me as family. We have rough-hewed a London family from those who wondered into the fold with a familiar glint in their eye, added them to our collection of gypsies and ragamuffins, and now the love keeps us all warm.

We began the year dressed as chavs in a warehouse in Bow. We see it out in a similar vein. 2009 has brought us all closer the Bow residents, in a way that only living so intimately can. Having an urban community has been wonderful - a luxury. Being able to 'call on' your friends who live only metres away is a rarity. And now the news has come that we may be out. If this is the case, then so be it. It's been the best year of my life.

Thanks to you all for making it so.

Tramp Party

So, smelling my way to work - from the overflowing drain in the yard past the bacon sarnies of the factory workers opposite, through the Olympic stadium where they are seemingly building the foundations with manure and onto the stinking canal, I smell the party before I see it.

Now, one of the benches along the Union Canal has been inhabited by two tramps for a while. Every morning I pass them, worried about waking them up with my bell as I alert the other cyclists to my presence in the tunnel. They hunch, coats zipped tightly over heads, sleeping upright - or more probably not sleeping upright. I wonder about the feeling they have when their situation dawns on them. When they stop dreaming and realise they are outside on a bench in North London.

Anyway, yesterday as I rode home there were three of them. All awake and drinking - seemingly in high spirits.

This morning, there were about seven, all smokes and jokes in the orange light. Safety in numbers.

Backlash

Well. Everyone's up in arms about the G20 police aggression. Looking at it from the inside out and the feeling is that it's old news. Already forgotten. News only lasts a day.

'What a difference a day made, 24 little hours' croons Dinah Washington.

From where I'm sitting things are a little different: I now know just how many people are with me on this - am reassured by how many faces I recognized in the Climate Camp - the place which represented my views and my person the most accurately. There is a community, a scattered community of people who are passionate about living a sustainable existence and the ones I know are young and clever and proactive.

It's heartening. I feel hearted by the G20 protests - I may be in the minority here though.

A & E

Everyone should spend an hour in A & E to reaffirm their self-love and redress the balance of smiles over scowls. It very effectively quashes the niggling, maggoty itches of irritation with your life and your lot as it thrusts you deep inside the lives of those who are a lot more fucked than you are.

'Hi honey' a *junkie drawls languidly as I pass. Oh God.

Taking my Colles fractured wrist and Phillip Roth with me, the barking receptionist at Royal Barts Accident and Emergency room appraises me testily and does her best to ignore my politeness. The collection of poor souls collected here on this uncharacteristically sunny Friday - exactly a week since the fated Friday 13th incident - are, for the most part, in more pain than me and wretchedly moaning.

I crave health, sun, freedom and a friendly face/gin and tonic. I have a sudden burning lust for my life and it's populace. Being immobilized is a worthy - if annoying - exercise in appreciation of the simple things and the delay of my gratification is necessary to bang this particular lesson where it belongs - in my face. When the fun and the freedom finally arrive it will taste all the sweeter.

*An assumption, a hasty jump to conclusion and a vastly unfair stereotype. But I'm the boss.