I live in Somers Town. If you've ever wondered what's between Euston and King's Cross, the answer is a quaint little series of streets. My own estate (1920s Council Deco, thank you very much) is the old St Pancras' shunting yards, which says all you need to know.
In the five years since I've lived here we've really smartened up - the food's amazing, the people are friendly, and the local library is the British Library. Local drugs pub The Somers Town Coffee House is now a gastropub ("under new management: we now serve coffee") and on summer evenings crowds of ghastly media types spill out onto the pavements with their bottled cider.
We've a basketball court which is as popular with estate kids as it is with posh students. For me the sound of summer is six shirtless youths yelling "To me Stephen! Bitchin!"
We even have our own gang. Whereas other gangs have slightly more exciting names, such as the Tooti Nungs of West London, we only have the "Somers Town Boys 07", which is handy for filing, if nothing else.
Of course, things aren't all rosy. While it's been a good few years since the police cordoned off our bins to look for hooker bits, a real gang from Camden now commute down here away from their ASBOs. I get back from holiday to discover police signs asking for witnesses to a Murder. It took place at 6pm on a warm summer's night. Right by the gastropub, probably in front of a hundred nice middle class people too polite to notice.