It’s odd returning here.
Soho
, three years following his departure from Central
London
For Somerset, I’ve come back to Broadwick Street, renting an apartment just around the corner from where I used to live on Marshall Street ten years ago, right next to William Blake House, which was where my father had his place in the ’80s when I would visit him during my teenage years (following our custody agreement with my parents).
Going back to Soho seems like an odd contrast compared to how others return to their countryside origins. As I stroll down these well-known roads, reminiscences of my upbringing flood back—familiar faces, stores that remain unchanged, recalling spots where I used to sneak away for a sneaky smoke during my teenage years.
What impresses me the most is realizing that Soho feels more like a close-knit village than the actual village I relocated to in Somerset.
People from London escaping urban chaos for serene countryside hold onto a cherished image of quintessential English country living frozen in time during the 1940s: farmers’ spouses delivering fresh dairy products door-to-door, clergymen dropping by for afternoon tea, and friendly familiarity at every corner of the neighborhood pub—akin to The Bull in Ambridge depicted in “The Archers.” However, this idyllic scene contrasts sharply with today’s harsh realities. A social media-savvy pair purchased their slice of paradise primarily as a fiscal maneuver, reducing their taxes through property ownership. Meanwhile, the local clergy now manage multiple parishes remotely due to dwindling resources. What was once known simply as ‘the local’ is now referred to as a gastropub offering gourmet dining options. Additionally, access to postal services has become increasingly limited following the closure of the post office, and even places of worship have not escaped change—with some churches being repurposed into trendy vacation rentals via platforms such as Airbnb.
In my nearest city, very little infrastructure remains; a mail box is the sole indication of any activity. Many of the houses turn dark at nighttime since they stand as second residences, likely owned by people from London.
In comparison, Soho buzzes like a vibrant market town from a child’s storybook; teeming with life, filled with locals, and brimming with charm.
community
Missing from numerous countryside areas, Soho embodies the essence; featuring its twisting cobbled streets, wooden-paneled pubs, and community water pumps. This locale captures quintessential village elements—the plaza spaces (such as those found at Soho Square and Golden Square), religious sites (like St. Patrick’s, St. Anne’s, Our Lady of Assumption, and St. Gregory’s Church), neighborhood cafes (notably Bar Italia, founded in 1949), produce markets along Berwick Street, regional news outlets—The Westminster Extra and The Soho Times—and an iconic pub called The French House, managed by Landlady Lesley Lewis who personally knows her patrons well.
There’s a community choir, along with Tuesday teas held at St Anne’s, plus schools and GP clinics. It meets the official criteria for being considered a village: bigger than a hamlet but smaller than a town, requiring a population of several thousand residents.
Oddly enough, whereas most small villages expand with time,
Soho
Has diminished significantly. It went from accommodating 30,000 residents post-World War II to currently having less than 2,000 inhabitants. Despite this reduction, it embraces its identity: showcasing events like the Soho Village Fête – titled by Mandana Ruane – organized by The Soho Society. This includes local competitions such as the Soho Dog Show, The Soho Waiters’ Race, and a tug-of-war contest between the Soho Fire Brigade and the Soho Police Department.
In his latest newsletter, Simon Buckley, who serves as the rector of St Anne’s, shared an experience of heading from a luncheon Communion directly to the French House, where he was met with applause and dubbed “the local vicar at the village pub.”
The true key element of any
neighbourhood
The rumors circulate easily here. From my Soho apartment, I can often overhear them through the window. It seems everyone knows each other. I keep running into neighbors all the time. My very first evening in my new flat, the restaurant downstairs triggered their fire alarm, leading to both me and my neighbor above being forced outside onto the street at 6 AM. We then headed over to Bar Italia for some conversation. Out in the countryside, it took me two whole years just to receive an invitation to a gathering.
While living on Manvers Street, I became acquainted with many of my neighbors, particularly the sex worker next door whose unconventional schedule mirrored mine. We frequently bumped into each other after returning home late at night or visited one another’s apartments looking for Rizla papers. Sometimes, en route back from Heaven, I would stop by Ivan Massow’s residence on D’Arbly Street. Other times, I might encounter Howard Jacobson—or bump into familiar faces around Soho such as the stylish George Skeggs, longtime resident Tim Lord, or the renowned tailor Mark Powell. The area has certainly changed since then.
country life
which can end up being very exclusive and not at all spontaneous.
My father retired in Soho. Initially, this struck me as unusual, but now it seems perfectly logical – Soho boasts a community often absent from rural areas, where individuals reside in isolated homes and move about in vehicles without ever crossing paths with others.
My father and his neighbors took care of one another; they provided babysitting, did-it-yourself projects, helped move furniture inside, and even put out food for cats when Betty from across the street headed off to the Costa del Sol. Approximately thirty percent of Soho’s inhabitants reside in social housing, which includes about 250 households with children aged 17 years old or younger.
People say that in rural areas, you could reside somewhere for two decades without being regarded as a native. However, in Soho—a neighborhood full of unfamiliar faces—everyone fits right in. True, it often seems crowded with visitors, yet compare it to Bourton-On-The-Water during weekends; things aren’t so different there!
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