Lambeth
Posted by dulwichmum on Tue 8 July 2008
I risk my life each day when I travel through the London Borough of Lambeth on my journey to work. Brixton is genuinely one of the scariest places on earth (gasp).
To be completely honest, although I adore driving my gleaming luxurious Audi Q7 to the City of Westminster, and take great pleasure in the fact that I can afford to pay the congestion charge to reach my personal parking space (this super toll has substantially reduced the volume of traffic in my way), occasionally I become concerned about the environment (sigh)… Sometimes I actually catch the number 3 bus to work,as I did this morning (OHMYGOD).
I remained downstairs for the duration of the journey, surrounded by beer swigging Russians, dangerous dogs, harassed mothers wearing uncomfortable acrylic thongs and unsanctioned exuberant young children, leaping off the seats like fleas… I noticed a couple of Danish tourists (obviously campers from the frightful site at Crystal Palace) sporting great tufts of orange underarm hair, sprouting out above the arm holes of their flimsy cotton vest tops! I feared I might inhale my own vomit…
The bus stopped for a moment to allow passengers to alight outside a vile kebab shop on Brixton Road. There was a yellow tinged Metropolitan Police sign stuck to the inside of the window printed with the words “Safe Haven, if you feel threatened, come inside.”
You do realise that this fast food establishment did not sell free range or organic fayre? Yet, I felt so traumatised that I actually perceived the vile establishment to be a comparative a place of safety!
Why would anyone who wears their underarm hair as a badge of honour choose to holiday in this civilised city? There is nothing for them here. Despite our binge drinking culture, potentially murderous pets, uncomfortable underwear and poorly disciplined progeny, everyone depilates appropriately. We are a civilised nation…
Would anyone care to join me for a small Doner while I wait for darling James to collect me?
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GoneBackSouth said,
I never thought I’d find myself clicking on a link called ‘underarm hair’, but click I did, and now I feel quite affronted. Was that really necessary?
dulwichmum said,
Darling Gone back south,
Let me pour you a stiff drink. Public transport is genuinely horrifying…
A Confused Take That Fan said,
As tempting as you make it sound DM…I think the answer is no. I spent my first few weeks of my London life living in London, where strangers in the bus queue would come up and stroke and sniff my hair. Not for me. I now prefer the ‘burbs..
ps – the underarm hair pick is rank…
A Confused Take That Fan said,
I meant living in Brixton, not London. My lids are too heavy after an hour of ironing. Hmph
dulwichmum said,
Perfect A Confused Take That Fan,
You poor darling. Let me send my au pair right over to give you a hand. Even a branch of Marks and Spencer could not entice me to get off the bus in Brixton. Let me make you a night cap!
what happened ?how did i get HERE? said,
You are truly fabulous Dulwich Mum..
I spend vast amounts of my time, in a professional capacity of course, with those thong wearing masses in the west of London…and many sport body art in the form of tatoos of dead relative on their upper arms and bosom region…charming…
Gill - That British Woman said,
thank you for the icky picture of the under arm hair…..
Have a drink for me!!!
Gill from Canada
menopausaloldbag (MOB) said,
DM – how very traumatic for you dahling. Being exposed to the great unwashed is never a pleasant experience, especially those who sport underarm hair long enough to act as a comb-over if they are short of the hairy stuff on their head. Next time I suggest you take some smelling salts for you clearly needed them, oh an a perhaps the addition of a Waitrose carrier bag to hook around your ears just in case you feel like losing your lunch at the very sight and smell of sweaty hairy armpits.
As for the Doner Kebab? I’m afraid that I have only ever eaten one of these when completely bladdered during my irresponsible university years. I have never eaten one sober nor know anyone who has. I’ll pass on the invite for lunch but perhaps you might need to take another Waitrose bag with you.
blogthatmama said,
You need to move up North where there’s no public transport to speak of and everybody is covered from head to foot in fleece all year round, no chance of a glimpse of body hair there, unless a farmer’s sporting a really hairy neck.
The Dotterel said,
She’s got a point, you know!
Happy Harriet Harman said,
You might not realise it, but I, Harriet Harman (future PrimeMinister) happen to live in Lambeth and it’s a jolly nice place. If Herne Hill is good enough for me, it should be good enough for you, evil Torywitch.
dulwichmum said,
Sweet WH?HDIGH,
You are pretty super yourself sweetie.
Lovely Gill,
I apologise. I was wrong to post that picture.
Dear MOB,
I shall pack the smelling salts in future. Thanks for the kind suggestion.
Nice Blogthatmama,
Perhaps I should move, in the manner of Wifey!
Dear Dotterel,
Hi there and I shall check it out right now. Do suggest anywhere in particular?
Harriet darling,
You really are quite the air head. If you payed your community charge you would see that the part of Herne Hill that you live in (Winterbrook Road) is actually Southwark darling…
Mwah.
Rob Clack said,
Can’t see what you’ve got against an acrylic underarm thong. I wear them all the time.
aims said,
Darling Dulwichmum.
I had not clicked on the link to underarm hair the first time through – and then I started to read the comments. So I did.
Reminds me of The Beater who actually liked underarm hair. He wanted to lick it (where is that Waitrose bag now?)
But dear DM – really – a donair? Don’t you know it’s been proven that it is unhealthy to eat one of those things unless it has been cooked twice?! I fear I may lose my breakfast just thinking about it. I’m sure I have a bottle of Chablis in the freezer though – that should help don’t you think?
I am positively weeping that your lovely Audi didn’t transport you to work this morning. There’s a law against that isn’t there?
dulwichmum said,
Oh Rob darling, you are a scream! Please pass the olives…
Sweet Aims,
You can rest assured that I shall be motoring to work in the Audi from now on!
A Confused Take That Fan said,
Oh DM, thankyou kindly for your offer of your au pair, but alas, I live too near to gastro pubs with dishy New Zealand/South African/Aussie bar staff…it would be far too tempting for her to engage in a romantic liason, therefore leaving you in the lurch.
dulwichmum said,
Perfect friend!
Sweet Confused take that fan, you are so very kind. Let me send you over a bottle by courier…
Kitschen Pink said,
You have buses? We don’t have those here – not that I’ve ever seen. Although it is possible that the old folk catch a Friday bus to the local market (certainly they line up hopefully in the village). Not sure if it comes back the same day or if it’s some form of societal cleansing and they never return.
I must say the reference link for ‘doner’ was quite sickening. I need to have a drink and an organic, fairly traded, locally produced truffle to recover! x
dulwichmum said,
Super Kitschen Pink!
What a laugh! I shall giggle now each time I see a bus queue.
Potty Mummy said,
Darling DM, you were ON A BUS? For heaven’s sake. Are you feeling quite yourself?
dulwichmum said,
Sweet Potty Mummy,
I know, I am still shaking! Freya had been lamenting the disappearance of the bees from our lavender. I was so worried about the environment … for about fifteen minutes.
Maddy said,
I’d sell my soul for a bus, but what do I know anyway?
Not very much it would appear.
Never mind, I’m far away for now so I’ll just ask anyway.
Could you just attend to a matter at hand for a moment I should be most grateful, [why can I never find an American when I want one?]
So in the 101 heat here [I can feel the sympathy waving over me] do you think it’s possible to make croutons on a barbeque if I put them in one of those basket thingies or will I simply cremate them or will they taste disgusting?
Now hurry up I have to ‘cook’ salad in a couple of hours.
I asked the neighbours first and they just laughed! I have no idea why?
Cheers
The Dotterel said,
Try rural Lincolnshire – it’s the country’s largest county, hasn’t got a mile of motorway, buses from the villages that run sporadically and very well-wrapt up farmers. (The weather’s too bad for much else). Mind you, you might see some goosebumbed flesh on Skegness beach!
The Crew said,
Have a look at our blog sometime http://www.svgoldenmean.com. We are a family of four plus dog living on a boat.
valley girl said,
Ha! reminds me of my dear, thankfully ex, stepmother, who used to centrally lock her car every time she drove through Brixton to see us. We actually live on the edges of Brixton (shock, horror – although still SW4, darling) and let me tell you, if you think the number 3 is bad, have you tried the P4 bus?
Sparx said,
Oh, bit late for this but feel I must comment… we are on the edges of Brixton and it’s jolly nice near us I have to say… although I admit to holding on to my bag a litle more tightly then is perhaps required if I ever venture into Brixton proper…
Joseph Wood said,
DM, have you considered taking the train to work, rather than bus. Whilst you do still do get the odd undesirable character, most fellow passengers are perfectly respectable commuters (such as my good self). Southeastern provide a reasonable service from West Dulwich which runs approximately every 10 minutes and takes 12 minutes into Victoria, this service also calls at Sydenham Hill (one stop before West Dulwich). On the otherhand, Southern provides an O.K. service from North Dulwich to London Bridge (via East Dulwich) which takes slightly longer (about 15 mins).
P.S. The train is near enough ideal in the respect that your concience won’t haunt you over not using public transport, you can also avoid the commoners that tend to use the bus in the Brixton/Stockwell areas!
dulwichmum said,
Mr Wood, you really are a darling for pointing this out. I adore the train (and love the coffee), I shall see you in the morning.
DM
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