London Place 15: Chatkhara

I lived in a 1st floor flat on Balham Hill, just down from Clapham South tube station, for four years precisely. I really liked it there. The flat itself was an oddity, with some long corridors and diagonals,  rooms narrowing to a point, holes in walls, peculiar substances stuffed in cracks. But it just about worked. I had the bigger room at the back (having had the smaller room in the previous flat). We lived above a chemist's. The pharmacist was our landlord, a fair but intimidating man called Mr Amin.

There was (nearly) everything you needed round there. Burger King to the left, pub across the street, newsagent two doors down, supermarket 3 minutes away opposite the tube station (I'll get back to the tube station).

I used to go to an internet cafe (remember them) when our broadband was being set up or struggling, there was an old-school everything-in-one-place hardware store, a beloved cafe called Fuel, and, of course, curry places. There was what claimed to be Britain's Number 1 Pakistani restaurant, which was pretty good but joyless, there was a supercheap kebab place which also did tupperwares of rice and korma/tikka/jalfrezi which I'd get on the way back from running quizzes.

I started my current job at pretty much exactly the time we moved in (early 2006) so that was the life I lived there. Work in the day, in the flat, which took a bit of getting used to, then out 2 or 3 nights every week to run a quiz somewhere, usually in London, but in those years a fair few out of town - Nottingham, Leamington Spa, Edinburgh, Holland, Eastbourne, all over the place. 

I once got back at 3am from running a quiz in Bristol to find the flat had been broken into, through my bedroom window at the back. Mikey returned from a pub shift at almost exactly the same time. One or both of us must have disturbed them (presumably looking for drugs from the chemist below). Almost nothing had been taken, just a bag and a hoodie of mine. The police came the next day and asked if the thieves had ransacked my room. I said no, not really. They said I might want to tidy my room a bit more.

I ran Clapham Common itself so many times. That's a place I really know the geography of, every root and puddle. Time gaps between each landmark. Variety was not for me, I just liked to go round and round the same perimeter. For a few months, I was getting somewhere fast, faster each week, thinking, still in my 20s, only one clot in, no broken legs, thinking I still had real pace in me.

My fastest laps of the common, I'd just had a weekend off, drinking and smoking at a music festival. Thought I'd ease myself back into running on the Monday, found my legs were fresh and fast. Still, couldn't really believe the speed. Thought I'd check the next day. 15 seconds faster again. 

Never managed that time again. Couldn't even figure how I'd done it, section for section, minute for minute.

Because of that thought that I might have real speed in me, I put too much emphasis on getting thin when I was training for marathons. Didn't eat most of the day then would have a curry in the evening.

The two places I loved - one was called Holy Cow, which was just delivery, claimed to be healthier than the average, and so I used to eat accordingly. And Chatkhara, one opposite Clapham South, one just by Tooting Bec (where I'd live for the two years after Clapham). Loved that place. A restaurant, but no frills, decked out like a cafe. Always full of Asian guys chatting at the tables, while the takeaway side was often drunken city workers dropping in for their astutely-priced "tikka roll" on the way home.

The food was in trays under the counter, no glam, no illusions, they made the naan in front of you. Best naans I've ever had. Best jalfrezi. I'd always go, take a look at what was on offer, order and wait, rather than eat in or look for delivery. I just loved watching the naan get made.

I'd sit and wait, watching the crowds leaving the tube station on the corner, often being cajoled, entertained or berated by Terry, the local homeless fixture. It's one of those grand, elegant tube station facades, Clapham South, unchanged since it was opened in 1926. Being that nudge further south, Clapham South was less hazardous and packed than Clapham Common and North stations, which were pretty unbearable to commute from. There's a lot going on round all the sides of the common, a lot of history, layers of culture, obviously the reputation for a certain kind of oblivious young graduate. To me, that little section at the south corner was the part that was most comfortable in its own skin.

I liked it round there. City living of a sort. Fun and games, football matches and broken limbs. 2006 to 2010. Things were changing then, though, insidiously. City boys and smashed bottles. I don't even know what I mean.