Back to Burnt Oak.

Burnt Oak was always an extraordinary place. In the 1930s, the Watling Estate was built there for families cleared out of the appalling slums around Kings Cross. Thousands of Cockneys were moved across London and they were not to be trifled with. At Burnt Oak tube, you’d usually find a couple of skinheads on “station duty” just in case any interlopers from Camden Town came up and fancied their chances. A lot of my family lived around Burnt Oak and I was back there last night because my old friend George Nnochiri was involved in a fundraiser for the Sunflower Cancer Support Group. George and I grew up together and he is now a fine, upstanding pillar of the community. But I remember George rather differently. In discos not far from Burnt Oak, we’d all have to stand and give him some room because, for the duration of a big tune like this, he would just own the dancefloor.