onionbagblog

“Cricket and South London go hand in hand for me. I was delighted to find a flat within a Super Six slog of the ground, and that I could get away with saying I lived in Oval, rather than Kennington.”

via @belowtheriver.

Ditto.

I routinely have conversations with Transpontine pals over the existence of an area known as the Oval.

Ahh - but it’s the Kennington Oval, they tell me.

Please don’t lump me in with those North Transpontine SPLITTERS, Comrades

For the record, the Oval area starts along the Clap’ham Road just past *ahem* Dorset Road. It ends about a five-minute bike ride later up by MP Morans Supplies along Kennington Park Road.

But don’t let the Kennington name fool you.

Aside from the cricket, how would you define the topicology of the Oval?

Movement, confusion and cricket.

It is a place that you only pass through, unless you happen to live there. The confusion is in the unknown geographic identity. The beauty of living so close to the cricket is that you can go about your chores at home during periods of rain, and then still take up your seat in the Pavilion just before the old bell rings.

And so not really an area, more of a cricketing association. You can almost breathe in the South London wild debauchery [steady] within the conservative confines of The Oval Long Room. Unlike that other lot north of the river, tradition is observed, but without Establishment deference, and certainly aided by heavy booze.

There are worse ways to define your locality.

As for the alternative on the other side of the physical Transpontine divide?

“From my balcony in my new flat in north London, I can see the cyber city floodlights of Lord’s. I was there last week as a guest of an old MCC member. I repeatedly got told off by stewards for not wearing a jacket in The Long Room, for moving behind the bowler’s arm and for spilling lager over a venerable lady’s Daily Telegraph.”

Now that’s just not cricket, Comrades.