Islington
There's a stop on the Gawler line named Islington. Located bang in the middle of sparsely weed strewn paddocks dotted with abandoned warehouses and rusted bogies.
Who named it that? What part of it reminded them of the crowded terrace houses of the namesake north London suburb?
Something about naming less than salubrious locations after iconic areas depresses me.
Part of it is a fear that I suffer from cultural cringe, that deep down I reckon it, my life, would be better lived in Dublin or Toronto or Tokyo.
I had my time in London and it was fantastic, free and wild. But when I returned to Adelaide - after a seven year hiatus - I found much to love about this city too. Guess it's that I associate Islington with certain friends' flats, with parties that went for days, with meeting and bonding with interesting people and with having no responsibilities whatsoever.
Looking up from a dry textbook to find my train stopping at a platform in the middle of whoop whoop is a stark reminder that those halcyon days are behind me. I can deal with that, I just don't like having it thrust in my face in the form of a rusty white placard declaring (this is not) 'Islington.'
The truth is we create our own lives regardless of geography. You can be miserable in New York or happy in Ceduna.
But I also think we should refrain from naming quiet suburban streets 'Piccadilly Circus.'
6 Comments:
At least you're not being subjected to memories by some place called Baghdad ...
If you think about it, most of South Oz is named after grander, older and busier towns/cities/areas than the ones they're used for here.
However, what's more depressing are names like Happy Valley, Golden Grove and Paradise when they're anything but.
Franzy - true, it would be more than slightly disconcerting to live on Abu Grahib Road, just off Rectal Exam Drive, near the Role Play shopping centre.
Kath - you mean Golden Grove isn't made of gold? There goes the retirement plan. Huntfield Heights gets my vote for the sow's ear award.
I refuse to believe anyone can be happy in Ceduna!!
Maybe we should be just be grateful that non-one imported the name Scunthorpe from England...
Also, note the tone of the drivers voice when he crackles on the PA when he announces the next stop
(pop, crackle) " hmmmmph ... next stop ... Islington ..... humph."
Must be thinking "just two more stops to Womma".
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