I spent years living in one of these system built monsters and yet it seems that “the housing crisis” demands that developers build more and more high rise. The Legacy of the 2012 Olympics seems to be that I can see less and less sky as I pass through Stratford. High rise living does not engender a happy life , noise travels indiscriminately and whilst promises are made I don’t believe any lessons have been learnt from previous disasters. Old blocks remain like ticking time bombs and new builds seem to go up quicker than your nipper playing with Lego!. Poem below voices my feelings and a couple of videos at the end of this post reinforce the view.
Where the Houses Used to Be.
For Disposable people.
Cold Glass and Grey Steel
Warm Red Bricks and Bright Blue Skies.
Skies once punctuated by Hawksmoors Steeples,
Being blotted out by High Rise,
Upon High Rise,
Upon High Rise.
Multi Storey Tombstones
With inquiries in their name.
The pretty colour cladding
They wrap these buildings in
There to remedy
The rust and crumbling concrete
Of the original shoddy build.
Where the houses used to be
Elsie sits alone on the fourteenth floor
Down to her last quarter of tea.
And as the flames lick past her window
She sees the cranes in the distance
Building more towers,
In years to come
There will be plaques of remembrance and cemeteries
Where the houses used to be.