On the right is the Green Lanes Pumping Station that towered over my early years in exile from Westminster.
On the left is the first girl who, from a safe distance, made me aware of my middle-class mind trapped in a working class body.
I remember her suffering her lumpen peers with a tilt of the head and a dignified blush.
Why was she amongst us ?
Sometimes in the evening I would walk to Highbury and, obscured by bushes and railings, sit opposite her house by the New River walk, watching the lights go on and off.
Wandering back through Cannonbury I was becoming aware of the differences.
I noticed one day, pinned discreetly over a breast ( she, of course, had the best in the class ), an inverted pentagram. She and a soft-spoken friend had found a way out of inanity.
Here - my greatest fear- she confronts me concealed within the bushes.
At home she was writing about dragons. I was wandering around 'Gin Lane'.