onionbagblog

Change is in the SW8 air. Not only do we have two squeaky clean (and actually rather charming) Nu Labour Councillors sitting in my little #hyperlocal patch of South London, but we also have a thriving Resident’s Association once again.

Cripes.

I’m not quite sure of the boundary definition of Fentiman Road, Richbourne Terrace and, um, Dorset Road Resident’s Association (spot the odd, the *very* odd one out.)

Geographically we make for great bed partners, but in the warped psycho geographic sightlines of SW8, Dorset Road is most definitely on the wrong side of the tracks.

Still, with an open invite to the Resident’s Association meeting, and a welcome return to try the booze once again on offer at the Fentiman Arms, I donned my best neighbourhood hat on Monday evening, and took a peek over the geographical garden fence of my fancy neighbours.

It was a different world – a world that promises jam tomorrow and actually leaves you with a half hour speech from a @lambeth_council panning officer (actually incredibly useful, and very revealing…)

The signing of the attendance sheet revealed that I was the lone flag flyer for the People’s Republic of Dorset Road, and I was determined that I was going to fight them on the doorstep to protect the honour of my little patch.

What do want?

Dumped fridges removed from outside my front door.

When do we want it?

Um, actually, the very efficient @janeinlondon / East Hants (blimey) has already seen to this particular act of political emancipation.

Ah yes, about the local politico element to the Resident’s Association meeting. Despite my ward turning from Yellow to Red (with a thin strip of yellow still just about visible,) it was very decent to see my new @LambethLibDems representative, Councillor Ishbel Brown propping up the bar ahead of the meeting. Likewise for the now retired ( and family man) @CllrRobBanks.

Rob and the out voted (cripes) Councillor Sawdon were both honoured at the start of the meeting with the traditional SW8 trophy of a bottle of bolly. Fentiman Road and Richbourne Terrace bore a lot of the Tory Boy estate agent signs over the past month. The genuine appreciation for the @LambethLibdems outgoing Councillors, by a political class that clearly leans rather rightwards, was rather touching.

“Is Jack the Lad Hopkins and the other one here?” went out the cry from the Chair.

Um…

I’m sure our two new @LambethLabour Councillors had other ward business to attend to on the night (probably shifting dumped fridges.) The Nu Labour odd couple have another four years in which to aquatint themselves with the very unholy alliance of Fentiman, Richbourne and barking mad Dorset.

Chairman and Finance Reports out of the way, we then had an open floor for various questions and concerns. Speeding along Fentiman Road was raised, with the call for a pedestrian crossing towards the Clap’ham Road end.

A new Committee was voted upon, with thankfully no 2 am recount, as was the case for my little #hyperlocal patch of South London a couple of weeks ago. The retiring @CllrRobBanks was asked to add his informal input to the committee, on account of:

“The perceived inexperience of the incoming Councillors.”

Ouch.

What followed was then a Q & A with Clive Fraser, the very decent planning officer from our friends @lambeth_council. The man with a very big sketchbook centred mainly on the Vauxhall / Nine Elms / Battersea development over the coming decade.

“This is a period of change. We want to make the area more like Pimlico [eek] with a mixture of office and residential buildings. Lambeth Council is not against these changes – we want to be able to shape them.”

And what of the Little People?

Ah, so *that’s* the real power of a healthy Resident’s Association.

Clive’s agenda soon clashed with that of his residential audience, when he confirmed that the area is set to expand with 16,000 new properties over the coming years. The gasp of disbelief from the floor was sufficient to knock down the planned St George’s Tower in Vauxhall, stretching fifty-three storeys high, and making it a third higher than Millbank on the wrong side of the river.

“A population increase in Vauxhall of 35,000 will follow, with an estimated 25,000 new jobs.”

Make no mistake – it is this financial incentive that is the carrot leading the donkey’s of @lambeth_council to agree to such folly.

Battersea Power Station and the Vauxhall Cross Tower were identified as the two main projects. Clive confirmed that @lambeth_council supported both projects, subject to transport infrastructure improvements. We’re not talking an extra No. 88 bus running down the South Lambeth Road during rush hour either:

“The Council expects the Northern Line to be extended from Kennington to Battersea. A proposed new station will be on the car park at Sainsbury’s in Nine Elms.”

Um… and where will the supermarket shoppers then park? I hope our friends from @lambeth_council have thought this one through.

“The total cost will be £500m. The consultation process starts next week.”

I love the nature of open democracy and politics within Lambeth. Slap the consultation tag on anything that is likely to cause concern, forget about political pledges that have been made, and then carry on regardless at the expense of the Little People.

A Northern Line down to Battersea would be rather ace though…

Other planning projects that yer man let slip included confirmation that a new supermarket is to be built under the arches at Vauxhall station. Confidentiality clauses prevented Clive from naming which chain, but I’d wager that it ‘aint Iceland.

Plans are also in place to make Vauxhall Cross a two way gyratory. Essentially this allows traffic to navigate the cyclist’s death trap both clockwise and anti-clockwise. Which all seems slightly strange, seeing as though Vauxhall Cross was… a two way gyratory less than two years ago, before a multi-million pound spend to make it into the hell hole that it has now become.

With the planning matters addressed and time pressing on, time for the more gentile and slightly less controversial matter of the Resident’s Association becoming affiliated with the good folk of the Vauxhall Civic Society.

‘fraid not, my friends…

The poor chap from the Civic Society took a right kicking at the front of the room from the politically shackled folk of SW8. He spoke of “community” and “events,” and in return got accusations that the Vauxhall Civic Society isn’t able to achieve anything.

It’s all about accountability, you see. Mmm – where are your local Councillors when you need them?

“We are on the brink of a revolution in Vauxhall ([blimey] – we had the Market Garden, the Industrial Revolution of the railways, and now we have the Thames being bricked and glassed up from Waterloo down to Battersea. We need a series of events to reflect on what is means to be part of our community, and to work together to try and take it back.”

Fighting talk, but it didn’t seem to go far enough for the fine Fentiman folk from the floor. The level of debate about affiliation took on a more twisted edge that the revelation that St George’s Tower will be taller than Millbank. But common (and community) sense won the day, and the Resident’s Association voted to affiliate itself with the Vauxhall Civic Society.

And that was just about yer lot.

“Any more business?” asked the Chair. “Oh, I apologise, we seem not to have discussed Dorset Road. Are there any residents here from Dorset Road?”

I shuffled nervously, played around with my iPhone, and then realised that my dress sense was more Mad Rupert of Dorset Road than the fine young things of Fentiman Road.

“Um, yeah, I live in the hood, Bro.”

What followed next is not entirely clear, but just before @AnnaJCowen and I bugger off to Wivenhoe, I seem to have found myself sitting on the committee, and flying the flag for my #hyper #hyperlocal patch of South London.

Oh Lordy.

I am the self appointed King of Dorset Road, representing myself and no one else. I live in my own micro dictatorship. You can overthrow me, but only if you assume my identity, sky blue cycling tights ‘n all.

The King is dead, long live, um, Mad Rupert.