Chopped Potato : Spring eternal

Or, "Rumble in the bronx."

Back in January, I noted in my Londonist interview that rumours of demolition work on the estate were due to begin in the Spring.

Well, it appears that Spring has now finally arrived.

The following photos show the beginnings of the estate's transformation into a building site, with six council blocks in total due to go under.

First up, equipment installed just today to test the water quality of the ground opposite Caspian House.

The almost redundant flats of Darien House, the next block from Caspian.

The demolition warnings and fences sealing off the grounds to Aden House and Taranto House are a sure sign of activity.

More evidence of the council's intentions for Aden House.

Aden House (where most of the squatter meetings had been held) now forbidden territory, unless you happen to wear a hardhat.

Flores House (three blocks away from our flats) and the dumping ground for worksite equipment (note the stack of fences lain on the grass). Also in this photo, one of the dog patrol vans.

Close up of Flores House, with a few squats still standing.

The mobile office suggests the workmen are in it for the long haul. The demolition of everything is expected to be completed by March 2010.

NB Security doesn't like you taking photos of all this, by the way, and will hightail it after you as you do so (yes, I was hightailed).

Dramarama

Or, "Who let you in?"

Four days after my departure and... this afternoon, the squat is broken into.

This is the window that faces out onto the gangway, now boarded up after today's incident, thanks to a neighbouring squatter with a spare bit of wood and a drill. This was also the entry point for the intruders. The story, as Kitchen Sink Neighbour tells it:

"Peter, who lives in a squat in the opposite block, spotted three Bengali boys breaking into your squat. He said it looked like they were drunk, that they were loitering on the gangway and chancing it with your flat. I also heard what vaguely sounded like smashing glass, but when I went to investigate, I saw the security guard with his dog standing outside the squat, looking at the damage.

Within minutes, Orbis (the Sitex people) were on the scene attempting to break into the squat to close it up. The squatters downstairs and two from a neighbouring block were on hand to kick up a massive fuss and stop Orbis and the security from doing their job.

After a few minutes of this, Orbis left, only managing to crowbar off the lock on your door. A couple of squatters went inside to watch the place afterwards, for a few minutes, to make sure nothing else happened to it.

Your ex-squat was very lucky today, with what the neighbours did. After all, Orbis were in the legal right. There was nobody in the squat after all."

Yes, that's right, there was nobody in the squat. Nobody manning the "staying in" hours. It was fortunate I was on my way to the estate that afternoon anyway and was able to assess the damage straight away. I was both annoyed and disheartened to hear that nobody was in the squat during all of this.

Here is the front door area now -- note the missing Legal Warning.

The front bedroom window from the inside.

Fortunately, nothing was stolen or damaged. But the reality that the squat could've been closed down today and the housemates evicted before they'd even had the chance to collect their stuff -- very close call. No one could've predicted the events at "my" squat today, Kitchen Sink Neighbour later noted. It has shaken us all.

Steeling our neighbourhood

To prevent new squatters from taking any of the six empty properties on the first floor, the council has taken the following action..

Yes, they have sealed off access to the entire floor -- with Sitex.

Just when we were starting to miss seeing fresh new Sitex again in our everyday lives.

Look here:

And on the opposite side:

Two unique viewpoints transformed by Sitex into a giant cheese grater.

To stop any attempt from squatters on the second floor to access this floor, the council has also encased part of the gangway with... more Sitex.

Note the black anti-climb paint on the edges of the metal.

They have also brought back the practice of latching Sitex onto the windows that face out into the street, a tactic they haven't used in a long time on this estate (when we arrived, very few of the newer empties were treated this way).

According to Kitchen Sink Neighbour, this renewed tactic was in response to a rumour doing the rounds of squatters who were planning to jump up onto the balconies to open squats and thus evade the dog patrols. Rumours no doubt heard by the security guards and conveyed to Sitex central.

With 24/7 dog patrols and these Sitex barriers, our block of flats is beginning to resemble the set of a TV crime drama. Which is apt, since living here is a drama in and of itself.

Oh ship

Do you remember Polish Husband? Who assisted us with the roof invaders and gave chase to Kitchen Sink Neighbour's attacker? He and his family have been fine neighbours, just friendly to us squatters from the get go.

Have been? Uh, why?

Because of this.

Yes, Sitex. The family have been moved, to temporary premises in east London. USgal noted that the flat smashing of their home took approximately three hours.

The shipping off of the Polish family has been a surprise. We knew they'd go someday, but their departure is a signal to us that the council is active again, with regards to this block. USgal reports that the single mother family on the second floor have also been relocated. We wonder what move will be made next.

Chopped Potato : May day

Playing truant from the squat in recent weeks has meant a plot hole in May. Not to fear... here's a round-up of various incidents this past month.

Phone Tree

A positive outcome of the squatters meet in March has been a phone tree, connecting as many of the 'flat liberators' on the estate as possible.

The 'squatter hotline number' is that of a cellphone belonging to Polishgal who lives two blocks away, whose unlimited and free text messaging enables the rest of us to receive estate news that is sms'd directly to her (and which she distributes). A useful service indeed it is (if vulnerable; if Polishgal departs, so will the phone number).

Recent news has included: warnings about a teenage pervert boy who has been pestering women walking through the estate in the evenings; local Bengali boys stoning a local squat in protest at it being there; and court papers being delivered to nearby squats.

Evictions

The council is at work again, with eviction notices issued to neighbouring squats, but in opposition, so has the squatters' network on the estate. One morning in early May, 30 estate squatters descended on a squat that was in the process of being closed by bailiffs and reopened it in... 12 minutes!... right before the bailiffs' eyes (who obviously cannot do anything to stop it).

The security guards who patrol our estate, and are meant to stop squatters from opening new spots, were apparently, according to eyewitnesses, mortified -- and yet paralysed by what they saw. Local radio station Resident FM later reported this event on one of their shows.

Junkies

What of the junkies who have been terrorising our block (as well as their jugulars and testicles) since last November? Who have haunted the first floor and stairwells, and left syringes and shopping bags full of their faeces for all to see?

Gone, forever. But not easily in their departure. As Kitchen Sink Neighbour recounts:

"Polish Husband's wife had already passed them in the stairwell when I came back home late one Friday, giving her aggro on the way. They had apparently arrived within minutes of the security guards leaving.

As I made my way through them, I asked them kindly if they wouldn't mind taking their needles with them afterwards. They were not pleased. One of them followed me up to the landing, shouting at me about it. When I turned around to ask him kindly again, out of nowhere, he hit me in the face! I started screaming as the man ran off.

Polish Husband had obviously spoken with his wife, because within seconds of my attack, he was out of his flat... he looked at me and then legged down the stairwell and GAVE CHASE to the man, also with the help of the guy in No. 6 who'd also come out of his flat. Both of them rugby tackled the junkie to the ground and held him there until the security guards came.

We haven't seen the junkies since."

Kitchen Sink Neighbour has since made a full recovery.

Going, going, gong

Where were you at 1.50 AM today, Sunday 15 March? Out on the town? In bed, as would be normal at this time of day?

Or living out your blacksmith fantasies in a near derelict council block? Welcome to our world.

Playing only three floors away was the unexpected but eerie sound of serious hammers striking an anvil. Almost like the distorted battering of chapel bells from some off-kilter dream, a hollow shockwave bouncing off your doorstep and the doorstep of every resident trying to get some sleep. It was 1 freaking 50 AM. Didn't people care for the time?

Perhaps it was the perfect time for a murder. Indeed, it was as though someone was trying to beat a gong to death by bashing it repeatedly in the face with a mallet. Nope. It was the Sitex men.

We had forgotten that they were a 24hr service and boy were we being reminded, 20 minutes into their session. Called in to seal up a midnight attempt to open a new squat, it was difficult to determine whether the banging was the work of serious hammers or the workmen being pissed off at having to work a late Saturday night shift.

Either way, it was loud, oppressive and relentless.

Some 40 minutes after, judging by their noisy attempts to yank off the Sitex, the squat openers were back. And within minutes of them came the estate security guards, whom since January had been patrolling the empties, you recognised them immediately by the sound of their manic cranky dogs. Dogs with the kind of starved barking only just too eager to rip open your body, never mind the dogs themselves.

Three floors away might as well have been from inside the hallway.

Pity the squatters confronting them and funnily enough, if it hadn't been for their late night efforts, Sunday morning could just have been that. Pity the rest of us trying to get some sleep.

Am I anti-squatter? Nope, just pro-consideration for other people at all times, and that doesn't change, for anyone.

Later and

New Breed

Reports have been slowly coming in of a 'new breed' of Sitex man, dubbed the stealth Sitex man. The latest local authority weapon against squatters, the stealth Sitex man is able to sneak up on the doorway of a newly opened squat within minutes of its liberation and wall it up in metal without the squatter inside even noticing.

In a story just this week, a squatter whose housemates had gone out to recon a front door only to return to metal sheets nailed across their premises had this to say, "we were astonished, we'd only popped out for half an hour".

Further eyewitness accounts show that no Sitex company van need be present in the parking lot during these "Sitex assaults" and that the stealth Sitex man does not make the audible caveman-hooligan grunting associated with the previous model.

Squatters are to remain extremely vigilant of random flashes of human-shaped lightning at their front door.

This is Squat Potato, 1379 kilojoules of energy per 100g.

Stay Put Luck

Squat Potato reports that staying in continues to be a troublesome spot for all at the squat. In spite of newly formed squat neighbours, home security remains a risk for each individual squat, thanks not only to snooping junkies but sightings of the 'stealth Sitex men', who can board up squats at lightning speed.

In spite of such regular daily threats, the liberated house, flat 22, still awaits the day where staying in can be balanced amongst its housemates.

When Squat Potato asked Atom Tom to comment, he replied, "It's such an integral necessity and yet it's complete bullsh-"

Oh, it appears we have lost transmission.

This is Squat Potato, squatting at the frontline of squatting.

165 days

The news stories, this evening:

Get Fluffy

The new junkie nest that we reported in January and the flat we overheard being smashed up in November are now newly populated "fluffy" squats, as of this week. With empty flat space at a premium now on the estate, the council block we live on remains the most sought-after premises for new squats (last week we had 16 empties). The arrival of three new squats brings the total squatter population here to 12.

With six squats now on site, suggestions have been made for widening contact and interaction between them as well as reaching out to the squats on other council blocks. More news at it happens.

This is Squat Potato, serving you 100% spud without cheese.

Snoopy, (but no Charlie) Brown

In recent weeks, the junkie nest on the first floor of our block has become the centre of serious heroin-loving in the area. Established in November 2008, the empty flat has come to serve many community purposes: a shooting up gallery for junkies, a blight on the environment, and a public nuisance for everyone who lives in the council block.

We have nightly earwitness reports of high customer volume at between 2 to 3 in the morning on most nights of the week, and eyewitness accounts this week of vein usage hitting an all-time low; the term 'going for the jugular' has taken on a whole new dimension in recent days.

On a slightly different note, word has it tonight that a whole other set of junkies have been snooping around the council block, casing flats that can be broken into for valuables to feed their habit. Kitchen Sink Neighbour has spotted this group taking a particular interest in our squat only this Thursday evening.

As a result, every flat here is now on high alert. Security advice has included checking to make sure coal chutes are sealed and ensuring squats are suitably manned in the evenings.

Otherwise it is bedtime with crowbars and chisels for all.

For up-to-the-minute live reports on junkies, Squat Potato recommends you visit the council block on Friday nights, where you can watch live action unfolding between plain clothes police and heroin lovers on the gangways and stairwells.

This is Squat Potato, no animal or mineral, just pure edible.

Keep your junk(ie) in your trunk

Back we are to the squat -- it's still standing and its contents are safe.

Oh, and we have some new neighbours!

Junkies.

This is the work of junkies -- ripping open the Sitex of boarded up flats and crawling their way in for a hit. Since junkies only need a place to score, they are unlikely to care about where they do it.

There has been a 'nest' of junkies in our council block before (and they're still there, on the first floor). It's easy to tell when they're in, usually by their arrival time -- 2 or 3am, when they clamber themselves through the metal sheets in their many, like zombies scuffling out of the dark and eager for food.

This clambering obviously makes a lot of noise, as the metal is either taken off the windowpanes or just jumped through. Also, hearing the elevator busy at work at 2 in the morning is unnerving, especially when you know that the residents who still live in this block are indoors by 10pm.

It is the clattering Sitex that brings in the attention of cops, thanks to residents dialling them in. We don't need the police around. Even though there are 'fluffy squatters' here, the police don't care, they don't see that distinction, we're all the same to them.

We don't need any annoyed police officers, restless from not having caught their 'junkie-of-the-day', sniffing around our squats in the hopes of a catch, or a reason to catch.

Right now, they're sniffing about in a street adjacent to our block which, according to USgal, has been turned into a drug net and is being patrolled by plains clothes drugs police!

Together with the few drug punters hanging about for their dealers, and using our parking lot as their waiting room, and our home feels a bit unrecognisable. It's like walking on to the set of a crime drama. The flat smashing seems not to have deterred anyone, and has instead contributed to the estate's new ambience; some might say they created it.

Although Kitchen Sink Neighbour has told the junkies that our floor is a no-go zone, it's not a helpful tactic for those families who still live in our council block. We need unity of some kind, to repel this menace. Right now, we're not sure how.

Bricks and stones

We've seen the insides of our council block, now time for the externals.

The following photos were taken during more sunny times at the estate, both weatherwise (it's grim grey now) and neighbourwise. Where you may see open windows in these pictures, we now see Sitex coverings.

Boarded-up flats. Flat no.8, in the second photo, was the Ukrainian squat that was recently seized by the Sitex men during our "front door" spate.

Ground floor row of flats, all totalled.

Flats in the opposite block, few of which have been sealed up. A lot of residents still live here.

Back to our block, this time facing the main road. The Sitex people had previously boarded up front windows as well, a tactic they don't seem to use now.

No sunbathing on these balconies then.

This is us -- the top floor in this picture.

Affront door, part 1, eight Sitex men

Eight men turn up on our doorstep at 11.30am.

More precisely, there are eight sets of feet wearing muddied workmen boots, spouting eight sets of gruff caveman voices that talk over each other. Thanks to the Sitex security door that is our front door staying closed, we don't get a chance to see their faces. But also thanks to the Sitex security door, this is why they are here.

They work for the firm that is steadily encasing the entire housing estate in Sitex sheeting -- and our front door has astonished them. Astonished them, because they believe that we have STOLEN this Sitex door in order to use it as a front door! They can't quite understand how this door can even exist on the estate (uh, guys, you put the door here in the first place) because all of the other empty properties are boarded up with stainless steel meshes.

Their amnesia is accusing us of thievery.

Their disbelief stutters the following :

"How did they get this door?"
"They must've found it from a scrap market and put it here."
"Nah, maybe the door was always here."
"Not sure about that."
"Hey lookit that -- they've put a new lock on it!"
"Really? Where?"
"See here."
"Fucking hell!" x8
"You're right -- they must have broken in and put their own lock on."
"That'll be right."
"That's criminal damage that is."
"It fucking is!" x8
"We can charge them for that."
"Yeah, let's do 'em for that."
"Oi, is anyone in there??"

New housemate Rhoderocker (who arrived only 20 minutes ago) is immediately put to work, acting as the voice behind our side of the door, whilst on the other side pound the eight men almost in unison. They want their door back, they grunt. Section 6 means nothing to them, whilst their door means plenty. They will charge us for criminal damage because we have changed the locks.

And they want to take the door RIGHT NOW! and have the tools to do so. They don't care that this is our home, we're illegal they say, and the Legal Warning on our door is just a meaningless bit of paper they'll hand back once the door is gone.

"It's flat 22 and they have our Sitex door and won't return it", they complain together on a walkie talkie.

Diagram Drawing Electrician drops his life and dashes over during my callout. USgal pours sweat all over as she attends her lectures ten miles away, stressing out that she can't physically be here. Everyone who can help us is on voicemail. Rhoderocker and me listen to their demands but refuse to open the door.

Eventually, this 40 minute altercation calms down. The group of eight slowly move away, saying they can come at anytime to remove the door and that they will, we can bet on it. By 12.30pm, the herd have moved off completely, leaving us to consider our options, including whether they are calling our bluff.

UPDATE: just before 1pm, we learn the herd have just boarded up flat no.8, a squat opened up by a couple of Ukrainian men who work during the daytime (and thus leave the place empty). That could've happened to us.

Electric window

Pressing on with the determination of a marathon runner going uphill, the household races to complete, or at least inch closer to completing, most of the main DIY projects.

First up, the electrics.

Thanks to Obi Wan's loan of a multi-meter, each electrical wire is checked to see how much current they contain.

Apart from a rogue spark exploding, the job goes rather well. Here is our stove. Yes, we have a working stove now (the oven at least).

Talking of the kitchen..

The decision is made to shut the kitchen window, that is currently being propped wide open by Sitex steel bars. We decide to retain the bottom Sitex steel bars, because the idea is to keep the metal sheet on, reattaching it straight away with our two-bolts-and-some-string technique.

Here is the angle grinder being used to dismantle the top and middle Sitex bars :

Da-daaah!

Despite a crack or two in the panes, the kitchen feels warm at last.

Is it Christmas..?

Look at what we have here!

Is it Christmas?

Look at all those doors! All that wood!

We could make bookshelves and tables out of this!

Or barricades!

Uh, who's that man? What's going on here?

Oh.

Furniture removal van. That can only mean...

Another family has been rehoused. Another flat is about to die. Can you hear the china and glass smashing as though some drunken mob is trashing the place? The mob that is the flat smashing crew whose wages are your taxes!

And soon the entire floor of these flats will go the way of the floor below us :

You have to hand it to the local authorities and their flat smashing entourage.. they move swiftly and work efficiently.

Soon our floor will more or less be the only floor inhabited in this entire block... but for how much longer?

Chopped Potato : Home to nowhere

Following on from Ghost town on your doorstep, the photos here are a sample of some of the workmanship of the flat smashers and their legacy on this estate.

As you can see, most of the flats here are in good condition. It is still amazing that this is happening at all, that there are perfectly fine flats here whilst outside, homeless people are struggling in the cold.

Onwards.

Imagining what bathtime may have been like takes some doing.

Is this the Blair Witch Project? Together with zombie-like junkies on the estate last week, and we have our own horror movie set right here.

Door removal.

Anti-climb paint here is used to deter squatters, for its sticky texture is difficult to remove from clothing and also easy to slip on if coated on floors.

Bathtime? Not.

A smashed toilet picture. Here, they have beheaded the bowl from the base.

What sounds of laughter and children once filled this hallway?

One of few flats on the estate with thick steel slabs encasing it.

Window panes from the outer windows removed in this one.

More horror movie set.

Is this the oldest (and most worn) steel door on the entire estate?

Meanwhile, below..

And sure enough, the flat below us, 16 Caspian House, is going the way of obliteration and Sitex, thanks to the Somalian family there being rehoused.

Exactly as the teenage son of the family had described to me yesterday, the handing over of their keys and departure coincides with the flat smashers' exact arrival. In fact, in the spirit of multi-tasking, the flat smashers are also the key collectors, a huge timesaver no doubt. There is literally no moment in all of this where any door keys can be duplicated by potential squatters, new door locks put on and the place squatted.

Not that the departing family could've helped out in Operation: Door anyway. Whilst we might amuse them as neighbours, it's very clear to them that any involvement with us could endanger their relationship with the local council trying to rehouse them. It's fair enough. And regardless, the Sitex people remove the front door altogether, which thoroughly negates the whole key-cutting operation.

Simply put, there is no way to squat the place before the local authority comes to board it up.

Sitting quietly in our flat above, SoundsNorwegian and I do nothing except listen in on what will eventually become the fate of our home, to unexpectedly witness a face of local government at work that few see firsthand. With a similar layout to ours, we start to wonder which part of it is being smashed, as you hear the sound of iron mallets colliding heavily against china and brick. You wonder whether there is some organised order to the flat's destruction. Which bit do the workmen most enjoy destroying? Would ripping out the electrics be the best part, because trashing it completely terminates the life of the flat? Carving up a beached whale suddenly springs to mind. The heart and work you put into making your home now bleeding out onto the gangway.

Eventually, the flat smashers will leave, and then the Sitex men will come, with their medieval array of metal screens, screws, drills and steel bars to shield the devastation from public sight. They will work to cover up the barbaric side of local authorities from public curiosity. They will hide away, seal up, disappear the outrageous actions of a local government that claims, on the slogans across the sides of their vans, to be working

WITH YOU.

Ghost town on your doorstep

Grim, is the only way to describe some of the empty properties on this estate.

How the remaining residents put up with the growing unsightly gloom on their doorstep every night is uncertain. The local authorities sure don't harmonise boarded-up flats with their surroundings, and for those you can take a peek into, sure do their very best to deter anyone from wanting to settle there temporarily.

At some point, a busy community thrived here during a time when the authorities were happy to just let it exist. Long memories must now have strong stomachs.

Making my way around this afternoon with two potential squatters looking for a place to open, we come to the conclusion that there are two ways of boarding up a flat --

1) Boarding up windows/doors with single sheets of steel

This may have been an older way of closing a place up. It is as simple as stapling a sheet over each of the doors and windows, but leaving them intact by doing so. The interior looks untouched, from what we can see through an open toilet window of one such place.

We're not sure if other flats covered up like this are of similar condition, but this one, with its toilet window, has possibility. It's also only two doors away from where we are.

2) The Sitex mesh covering

The more recent way of sealing up flats it seems, doubtless the outcome of local authorities realising they could be squatted. Bolting the Sitex on means smashing windows and removing front doors. The mesh of course taunts you, because you are enticed to see in and are then hit by the extent of the damage that has taken place.

From the way the flat from yesterday was worked on, it seems that the total annihilation of a premises is the new way forward. Toilet, bathroom, kitchen, stove, cupboards, shelves, electricity sockets, skirting boards, furniture, pipes, internal walls, chairs, sofas -- the destructive work of one set of council men with mallets, to then make way for the Sitex men to add their finishing touch.

Some workmen have really gone to the hills in some of the Sitex flats -- painting logos of their favourite soccer teams on bedroom walls; throwing anti-climb paint everywhere; displaying the remains of the toilet like portrait hangings. In one flat is evidence of a fire.

Not a single care that the flat they are being paid to obliterate could be a temporary home for someone else.

What an institution we must have, that uses the tax money of its citizens to pay workmen to make empty properties uninhabitable for its citizens!