Real life: In praise of Balham

As if by magic, a long-lost cousin will every so often appear. They come from the sticks and ask if they can stay in my south London flat. I always say yes, on the basis that I was once taken in by kind people who took pity on a fugitive from Midlands farming country.

Jim and Caroline, husband and wife and two thirds of an alternative rock band, sheltered me. I found them in a dog-eared copy of Loot. I didn’t even know where or what Balham was when I answered the ad. Jim opened the door, showed me in and grilled me about artistic things. He told me I had got the room after I revealed that I had a copy of Crime and Punishment in my bag.

‘Say no more!’ the dear man cried. ‘And I know Caroline is going to love you because you’re wearing yellow.’

Back in the Midlands, people chuckled when I told them I was moving to Balham.