Perhaps it’s the association with The Goodies and with Dennis Nilsen, serial killer, but people are reluctant to admit that they live in Cricklewood. ‘Well, it’s sort of on the Hampstead border,’ they mutter sheepishly, when quizzed on their new home. But they’ll be hollering it from the top of Brent Cross shopping centre before long if Cricklewood Redevelopment Ltd has anything to do with it.
‘It was a place a man came in order to go to other places via the A41’ is how Zadie Smith describes the area in her novel White Teeth. But though roads dominate this unglamorous suburb — the A406 North Circular, the A5, the A41 and the mighty M1 — Cricklewood was a traffic-free backwater for centuries. Early settlers were put off by its cloak of dense forest, and by the mid-1800s it was still only ‘a village one mile in length’.
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