A day in East London

The moss growing between the roof slates, dank heavy clouds overhead, a drizzle of rain and a cold wind make a stroll down the East Ham street a bleak business. Row upon row of terraced houses, little brick enclosed portico's, no garden only the trees protected by the council, standing like sentinels along the pavement, a concession to nature.
The street is also lined with cars, some with badges which provide the resident, not a space to park only a reprieve from the ever watchful traffic attendant.
There is a stillness in this street, the people who live here are out at work, fearing to lose their parking space, they commute by bus and so the car is stationary until the weekend for a trip over to Aunty Maud's in Whitechapel. 
In the daytime there is no sense of confrontation. The people wandering around are either old or out of work, they too seek a quiet life but at night things change and it wasn't so long ago I arrived to find the street cordoned off by the police to investigate a murder.
From all walks of life in this East End melting pot, people from all over the world, from societies where life is cheap, who live cheek and jowl with others but have through necessity learnt to accept the isolation amongst many but who, can never the less, look after themselves.
A woman approached me begging for a pound to buy a ticket for the bus. She may have been genuine but most likely not, perhaps she is happy with a slug or two from the bottle store, no matter, the pound was the least I could contribute to the complexity of living in a concrete jungle.
 Come 4pm the roads get crowded, just in time for me to head home. First the A404 and then the M11 taking me up into the fields and open country of Bishops Stortford.  I thank my lucky stars to live in the environment that I do, the blend of countryside and a small market town where, within a short compass I can touch all manner of variables which keep the soul alive. A far, far cry from the depressing uniformity which is the East side of London.