Myra Road and Margaret Street, Dulwich Hill on Saturday, 30 May 2020
Myra runs off Canterbury Road, descending to the train tracks below. Water is running down in the deep gutter like in a creek. The street consists mainly of small blocks of flats from the 1950s or 60s and some single houses in between. On the porch of one of these houses, an effigy is sitting in an armchair: runners, pants, a jumper, a black scarf, face mask. It looks eerie and strangely realistic. While taking a photo, I am a bit scared that it either might suddenly move and yell at me or that it is indeed a dead person.
I pass a woman with her children in front of one of the blocks of flats. She tells the smallest: “Call Daddy", who sits on a balcony and smokes. Daddy says: “The water pressure is low.” That seems to be the reason for the road works at the top of the street. An older man, his clothes matching the traffic cones, is watching the progress of the work.
Myra Lane
Margaret Street is residential with tall trees. Quiet. The only sounds come from invisible birds. It has dark brick family homes, two of them are empty, and the others are very well cared for. There are also a couple of small 50s blocks. An old woman with a shopping bag on wheels is doing something near one of them. When I come closer she is crossing the street very slowly and busies herself with the rubbish bins. I realise that she is collecting bottles. In another part of the street, I notice a discarded black backpack on the green strip. An old man carrying shopping bags comes slowly towards me. “Is that a dog?” He asks. I tell him that it is a bag. “Oh, I thought it was a dog.” That’s how my first English language lesson book at school started: “Is it a dog? No, it is not a dog, it is a fox”. We both smile and he walks on.
