Manor House - my kind of town

Manor House - my kind of town

I have to tell you Manor House is my kind of London suburb. It's roughly half an hour from the West End and it's situated very comfortably in a peaceful North London pocket. This morning we awoke to wet pavements and a suburb that had a very washed and bedraggled look about it. The opticians on the corner looked sturdy and robust, the newsagents were doing a slow but brisk business and the whole area is one huge concentration of posh, wealthy apartments, brand- new tall buildings and a lively sense of regeneration. I have to tell you that the whole of Manor House is positively thriving.

My wife, I and our children- now consenting adults- have witnessed an amazing renaissance over the last five years or so. When we moved into the area all those years ago Manor House had a solid, traditional feel about it. The old Woodberry Down estate looked very noble and upstanding but, quite possibly, needed smartening up. We'd heard about the plans to knock down the old flats with a view to a complete refurbishment but I don't think anybody knew how long it would take. Still Manor House just looks like our kind of town and after 14 years here we're both very happy and comfortable.

Our neighbours are lovely and, generally speaking, we all muck in together, speak to each other and joke about everything. Manor House is a great place to live in because nobody falls out with anybody and the sense of camaraderie is quite infectious. Manor House Tube station is rather conveniently accessible for us all and has been for as long as anybody can remember. Downstairs in the station it  has all the fixtures and fittings you'd normally expect to find in a London tube station.

Next to the newsagents, there is an impressive display of Manor House station  looking back to the very early decades of the 20th century. There are photos illustrating Manor House's past, a nostalgic trip down memory lane. Your eyes feast on those wonderfully charming tram terminuses, huddles of early morning commuters in the rush hour and the soft lighting down in the station itself which still exists, black and white images that are a permanent reminder of how life used to be.

 Two members of staff exchange cheerful banter and the ticket office has now been replaced by a disobedient and temperamental ticket machine. Now the public have to be at their most patient, as coins get stuck in the machine and tourists look totally confused. And don't even think about paper money. Oh for the hellish complexities of the London Tube railway station. Still it beats waiting for a train once you've reached the platform. The Piccadilly Line takes you directly to Heathrow airport but there are about a thousand terminals so you may need to just hold on for a while. On second thoughts the trains do take you to Heathrow so I think we'll wait patiently and see what happens.

This morning dawned here in the way it has done for many ages and decades. Here, in early February, the main road began to hum and throb re-assuringly. The traffic lights were working normally which isn't always the case, while the cars and buses were trundling and swishing along the sodden roads with a businesslike efficiency. Manor House over the weekend, is still open for business. It's alive and well. There was a good vibe, a soothing acoustic that sounds very normal and customary so it's all systems go.

When those traffic lights are working there can be no stopping them. Every so often the traffic seems to shudder to a standstill and everything seems to slow down almost rhythmically. Then there is a jittery movement, a noticeable stop and start. And then the briefest of pauses as the green light is  followed by a dramatic surge towards Wood Green. Then a whole procession of cars and buses flash past Finsbury Park before careering towards their intended destination.

Around us apartments with large balconies hang over into the street rather like those boxes you find in the theatres. There is something very well structured and architecturally correct about Manor House. All of the properties around here look well built and formidable. Even the TV aeriels look straight and symmetrical, attached together strongly.

Manor House has got some very handy and serviceable shops and businesses within a small area. There's a very prosperous looking hair-dressers, a vitally important chemist that used to be further along the parade of shops and a utility store which sells sweets, crisps, tins of everything, packets of everything , booze, cigarettes and is still open at, seemingly, mid-night. Perhaps they're open for 24 hours but this seems highly unlikely. Oh for the wheels of commerce.

Anyway the traffic lights are a constant source of fascination since nobody can see what's going through their mind. Every so often there's a pile-up because the red light refuses to change and the pedestrians have to guess when to cross without panicking. At our traffic lights there are  three giant advertisement hoardings that are perhaps criminally overlooked by passers by.

 Everybody can see them but they seem to be just background street furniture, rather like those roadside travellers who thumb a lift by the side of a motorway and are just ignored.. Some of the motorists  just  put their foot down on the accelerator  racing across the lights as fast as possible. There is an urgent intensity and flow about a day in Manor House that can't be mistaken. Everything has to be done as quickly as possible otherwise we'll never get to where we'd like to.

Meanwhile those freshly new and imposing high rise apartments are getting taller and taller. According to all the latest publicity these are mega million apartments designed for the professional middle classes and upper classes. The rumour is that all of those distinguished lawyers, barristers and stock-brokers have set up home and have built their very own wine cellars and tennis courts next to them. But this may be something I may have heard on the grapevine.

So there you are my friends. Manor House has its very own indecisive and hesitant traffic lights, swanky apartments that are probably worth telephone directory figures and a doctors surgery which must be at least 60 years old. It probably looks totally out of character compared to all of the new developments around here but it still looks steadfast and welcoming. Meanwhile there's a castle further down the road from here and I have to tell you that I've yet to see any knights in armour or fair maidens in distress. But that's another story. Manor House, we're proud of you.