I have this recurring dream. I’m back in Clark Street where I lived for the first twenty-one years of my life. I am standing in the “big yard” where endless games of football and cricket were played on warm summer nights.
Ahead of me, arranged in a horseshoe shape, are eleven two-up, two-down terraced houses with their postage stamp front gardens once lovingly cared for but now choked with weeds. All the windows in all the houses are broken, and the front doors are hanging off their hinges.[Read more…] about Clark Street