London - Summer in the city Part 2 : Changing London

Time was the prospect of Kings Cross after dark filled the heart with dread. Yes, I could catch my bus outside the tube and be home in twenty minutes, but the nervous wait on that filthy pavement hung such a wet blanket of fear over a night out that, even five years ago, paying twelve times more to get a cab seemed a no-brainer bargain. Grim, rundown, threatening and mean, the area’s reputation for crime, drug abuse and prostitution was fuelled by lurid media headlines of gang stabbings and a kerb-crawling DPP. When, duped by classic millennial hard-sell, a friend agreed to view a bargain flat nearby (‘massive potential, only a few minutes’ walk from public transport’) she locked the car door and told him to drive on as they arrived at a marooned terrace behind the station goods yard. Until very recently the shortest walk across that blighted, lonely, ill-lit wasteland was just plain foolhardy after sundown.

How times change. I’ve just spent a perfect summer’s evening sitting happily in that very goods yard in the shadow of the Victorian gasholder where Sadlers Wells Theatre has established an outdoor pop-up offshoot. We donned wireless headphones in the warm twilight to watch the highly disturbing events of ‘Electric Hotel’ unfold through the medium of contemporary dance. I never quite figured out the plot but stayed gripped throughout despite –or perhaps because of- my inability to figure out how dancers rattle keys, axe through doors and dive into swimming pools bang on cue to a soundtrack only the audience hears via those headsets. Rich pickings we’d have presented any passing muggers of yesteryear, corralled in the yard, deaf to their approach, attention thoroughly distracted from our valuables. Sitting targets, literally. These days, though, we’re perfectly safe watching dancing by moonlight beside the railway tracks- though I did note all headphones were security tagged.

It’s the railway, in fact, we should thank for the turnaround. Less than three years since St Pancras re-opened next door Eurostar passengers wanting to eat, drink and shop while waiting for their trains are spoiled for choice. And the attractions of the longest champagne bar in Europe, the John Betjemen statue and St Pancras Grand Restaurant, all sheltered by the goggle-inducing arch of William Barlow’s restored nineteenth century roof have helped establish the area as a venue of choice for those of us who live a mere bus ride away too.

So we don’t scurry nervously to the cab rank this evening. We saunter instead towards Camino, Cruz del Rey (see what they did there?), the Spanish restaurant we discovered weeks before The Observer named it 2008’s Best Bar. Great tapas and a courtyard; perfect for Mojitos on a balmy evening. It’s never let us down yet, but tonight Spain beat Chile in the World Cup and the Latino celebrations/commiserations are deafening. No matter, there are plenty of other places we’ve been meaning to try out. At The Fellow, on York Way we quaff a very nice white Rioja by candlelight and bemoan not buying a place in the picturesquely Dickensian Keystone Crescent nearby, back in the days when we could have afforded it.

At chucking-out time I leave my friends and stroll confidently across the street alone. I wait in a good-natured queue, entertained by the flirty banter of a group of lads trying to get off with two cute Aussie girls in party frocks. Everyone’s still enjoying their evening out in Kings Cross. And, courtesy of a big red taxi called the 91 bus, it only cost me £1.20 to get home. Result!

See also : Summer in the city part 1 : Parks

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