You take the Low Road, I’ll take the High Road, and I’ll get to Loch Munchie before thee . . .
It’s only with hindsight that I realise what a ‘playground‘ London was for me from the mid-eighties (when becoming old enough to do as I pleased) to the late nineties; when changes started running so deep they were impossible to miss and/or ignore.
About that way older people always seem when looking at them from a young perspective, then catching up a bit and realising the grotesque reality.
The inspiration for this poem speaks for itself. Good thing, as I’ve no intention of ever mentioning it again.