Marcon’s – about the only interesting shop left in Stratford – has closed. It only sold bin-end carpets but I liked its tatty signwritten frontage. Walking past when the door was open, you were immediately hit with a smell of damp. It’s been closing down for at least three years and now it’s finally gone.
This bit of Stratford is called Maryland, and is about as bleak and unlovely as you can get. A blighted stretch of cut-price off licences, flyblown boozers, raving derelicts, bookies and knocking shops. It always reminds me of 1990s Kings Cross.
Run, don’t walk.