KERRE MCIVOR
THE TIMES ARE A-CHANGIN’, KERRE NOTES, BUT HOPEFULLY SOME THINGS STAY THE SAME
A‘for sale’ sign has gone up across the road. It’s a green house and the man who has lived there forever is lovely. When he goes, the last of the originals that we met when we first moved to our house in Grey Lynn 22 years ago will be gone.
Mrs Bhana, our neighbour to the right for years and years, has gone and her old house is now being rented by four young women.
Wellpark College of Natural Therapies, which used to be our neighbours to the left, haven’t just left the ‘hood – all but one of the buildings that made up the college is gone completely.
The digger came in and tore down the outbuildings and all that remained was one very dilapidated old cottage, built around the same time as ours and which is being lovingly restored. There are three townhouses and a family home going up on the bare land, and I can only imagine the joy my wee grandson Bart would get if he was here, seeing the diggers, the dump trucks and the concrete mixers turning up on a daily basis.
There was a lady from Niue who lived in a house on a double section across the road, but she died a couple of years ago. Her family, who were living in the house with her, are still there so, actually, they can be counted as part of the originals.
The area has changed so much. Our butcher has gone. He survived two supermarkets down the road, but the arrival of a high-end food store down the road did him in. His old shop is now a wine bar.
We have a wine bar or pub on three out of four corners. I also have the luxury of five hairdressing salons ranging from a 45-second walk to a three-minute walk away and just recently a barber has set up shop in the village.
The most stunning change though has been Aladdin’s Bathhouse – where sex workers used to ply their trade. It’s now an organic baby clothes store, selling high-end organic cotton baby wear and bespoke toys.
It seems incredible to think that soon we’ll be the ones who’ve been around forever − who have the knowledge of what the neighbourhood used to be like and how it’s changed.
Thank heavens Western Springs Speedway has prevailed against the constant challenges to its right to exist. Cars have been raced at the stadium at the end of our street since 1929, but that hasn’t stopped Johnnycome-latelys who’ve bought homes in the neighbourhood from trying to get it relocated. It’s infuriating.
The speedway has been there long before any of us and the fans of it are the loveliest people – generations of families head along to watch their sport on a Saturday night, never parking over driveways, never leaving litter or never drinking to excess and brawling in the streets. They are very welcome visitors, as far as I’m concerned. I hope the speedway stays.
I also hope our beautiful trees, that form a gorgeous leafy archway down the length of the street, are never cut down. They’ve cost us a fortune over the years with leaves clogging the gutters in autumn and the roots getting into our ancient plumbing pipes once or twice, but the money spent is a small price to pay for the joy of turning into the street and seeing them, old and strong and beautiful.
One day, and probably not too far away, we’ll be the ones with the ‘for sale’ sign out the front, and people will ask about who once lived here. All I hope is that the ones who come after us are as happy as we were for so many years. And that they leave the trees and the speedway alone.