They Count on You Getting Tired, Giving Up Kathy Pimlott
No one lives here, you’d think, in the city’s glitzy heart except the agile young wanting to shimmy and shine before taking a van out to somewhere more... private.
Yet here we are, in infill blocks, which we made them build all those years ago, knowing your mum, your kids since before they had their own, so close we hear
each other’s sneezes, dying. Upstairs, temporary men keep Spanish hours that clatter on their wooden floor, my bedroom ceiling. They’ll go. I know who plays away,
who cooks mackerel, who’s been inside, uses Economy 7, tunes in to Magic Radio. I know we’re on borrowed time. Where are the old girls of the market, theatres, print?
Gone to Guinnesses in the sky. Money wants no one to belong here, just pass through, hold no memories worth fighting for, to temper plans to squeeze the streets,
trick them out in shoddy to look like style, smell like profit. Silly us. All that time we thought it ours, rallied, witnessed, held the line, all that grief, just making it nice for Money.
Kathy Pimlott was born and raised in Nottingham, but now lives in Covent Garden where she works in community activism for the Seven Dials Trust. Her pamphlet, Goose Fair Night, was published in 2016 by Emma Press.