John Vane: A police car and a view of the Emirates, Finsbury Park – OnLondon

A bit of slice of north London residential road life

You’re strolling alongside, minding your personal enterprise, on the lookout for an handle someplace north of Finsbury Park, and all of the sudden there’s this bloke on the steps main down from his entrance door: white, bald, hoodie, joggers, spherical about 35, eyes mounted on some type of console he’s holding earlier than him, fairly delicately, in each arms. And, guess what? The place you’re on the lookout for is true subsequent door.

“All proper?”

“All proper?”

He doesn’t search for. His entrance door is open and there’s a lady standing behind him on the step, attired in what is perhaps a dressing robe. Being winter time, it’s darkish, however solely about seven within the night. You knock on the door of the folks you’re visiting. You realize there’s going to be a wait.

“Emirates,” the bloke says, not trying up.

OK…

“You realize that’s most likely unlawful, don’t you?” the girl. says, with delicate indifference.

“Yeah, effectively…”

Already, you suppose you’ve bought him pegged: Arsenal geezer, season ticket, like his dad earlier than him and his dad earlier than that. Tony Adams? Legend. Thierry Henry? Invincible.

From down the road comes the sound of a siren.

“I instructed you,” says the girl, unconcerned.

The bloke retains staring on the factor in his arms. Nonetheless ready, you realise what it’s.

The siren is getting louder, nearer. The car it’s hooked up to comes into view. It’s on the pavement. It’s manufactured from plastic. It says “[police” on the side. It is being driven by a small boy. Ahead of it walks a man, odds on the small boy’s dad.

“Got a drone up?” inquires the dad.

“Yeah,” says the bloke, still not looking up.

“Cool,” says the dad, walking on, pursued by the wannabe Met officer.

Your host opens her front door. You steal a parting glance at the console, its little screen, the aerial images of Islington, and in a funny way this close encounter with a new kind of overgrown boy’s toy takes you back to a time when it was Highbury, not the Emirates, and it was Football League, Division One, not the Premier League. And it was John Radford. And Charlie George. And Frank McLintock. And Bertie Mee. North London changes, but, how it stays the same.

John Vane is the author of the London novel Frightgeist.

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