OK, OK. Admittedly a little later than expected; it’s here. The Guardian’s ‘Let’s move to…’ column this week features Southville. It’s here in all its glory.
And quite amusing it is too. Sample:
Those priced out of [Clifton’s] lofty neighbour on the hill across the Avon started settling here in a colonial outpost, fending off the natives with olive oil and chants from Portishead’s first album.
Not sure I agree with this claim though:
“It seems to have reached that blessed moment of equilibrium in gentrification where there is a genuine social mix without inundation by candle shops and purveyors of reflexology”
That moment seems to have passed at least three years ago. Now North Street is as monotonous as any Tesco with its endless selection of overpriced olive tapenades, artisan breads and cafe bars.
George Ferguson, the red trousers and his bloody Tobacco Factory predictably get a bit more press as does Ben Barking and his voluntary sector crazy gang. The Southville Centre is also namechecked as a “real community centre”. What’s that then? One that subsidises the middle classes?
Overall Southville residents shouldn’t be too down though. One told me, “This attention for the area among wealthy liberal Londoners might put ten grand on my house price with a bit of luck.”
Was there any mention of them being 5 minutes from the South West’s chavviest football club?