Stratford (Divided) City

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Stephen Wallbridge walked past a woman and her dog, and saw the social divide.

As the rain falls, her coat grows ever wetter. Unsheltered, she continues to hold her arms out in the hope that just one passer by will drop a couple of coins in her cold, tired hands.

Not quite alone: a canine companion lies by her side; just as cold, just as wet. His head rests on her leg, covered by an old sleeping bag.

He could try sniffing out a better deal somewhere else, but he isn’t going anywhere.

Neither is she.

This is Stratford, so their existence has become unexpectedly entwined with attempts turn the area into the East End’s West End; a New Elysium for Global Tourism.

Underneath the lamp post, not going anywhere, they are blocking the path of urban regeneration. They are getting in the way of top class Regeneration Gamers: men in £500 suits with million pound houses (not counting the swimming pool and an acre of land).  The bitch and her dog – that’s what she would be to them, if they even knew she existed.

Is it really that bad? Am I overstating it? When the clouds finally clear, they will be able to enjoy the glimmer of moonlight bouncing off the ArcelorMittal Orbit; and after all, there always has to be someone at the bottom of every Helter Skelter.

Perhaps.  My point is that with the current implementation of ‘urban regeneration’, there simply isn’t a ladder long enough to bridge the gap between the classes.

Welcome to Stratford, the Divided City.

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