Confessions of a gentrifier

The backlash against plans for a Gail’s bakery in Walthamstow made me think about my own experience of gentrification. When I moved to my suburb of Bristol nearly 20 years ago, it was still a largely white working-class area. It was also a temporary home to many of the students from the local university. It felt slightly down at heel but, judging by the impressive size of some of the houses, had once been quite prosperous. Black and white photographs from the early 20th century show the now non-existent tram running down a high street populated by soberly dressed Edwardians.

We were looking for somewhere to start a family, and it seemed to tick all the boxes: good transport links, not too far from the city centre, plenty of green space, well-performing primary schools, and relatively affordable property – street after street of 1930s and Victorian houses.