The following are memories recalled by John Gatward, as recorded by Hanover Housing Association in their book 'Tale of the Century' published in 1999.

I bought my first flat in 1975, with the help of a mortgage from the GLC. It was in Emu Road -- an odd name with no others like it in the area -- just south of Chelsea Bridge. The estate agent told me that the area was up-and-coming, and referred to it, I think a little tongue-in-cheek, as 'South Chelsea.'

I used to pass the still-operational Battersea Power Station every day on my way to work -- I thought it was like an industrial cathedral.


Emu Road was part of the Flower Estate, built in the late 19th Century by a local philanthropist. The properties were identical terraces of flats, ground and first floor, each with its own front door, although one unusual feature was an interconnecting door between the two halls, presumably so that the two flats could be used as a single dwelling.

They had not been modernised at all. My flat -- all £6,800 of it -- had no bathroom, an outside WC and a view of the backs of neighbouring flats that included a number with zinc baths hanging on the back extension wall, for use on Fridays.

When I got into the loft -- having had to cut a hatchway -- the beams and joists were covered with a thick deposit of slate dust that had gradually drifted down from the roof over the century. It should be noted that there was no damp problem -- Welsh slates lasted.

In due course, developing my DIY skills as I went (I shudder to think of some of the things I perpetrated!) and with the help of an improvement grant from the GLC, I turned the flat into a nice, if compact, home. I installed a bathroom where the kitchen had been and a kitchen in another room, and put in central heating.

I then thought that I should inform the GLC of the improvements, knowing that my rates would need to be adjusted. I put this down to being of an honest disposition, but I confess that I also thought it likely that the department that had given me the grant might tell the rating department of the improvements.

The relevant official came, looked, and made some notes. He then said that I was the first person he had ever met who had volunteered such information; that the impact of the improvements was minor (manifestly false), and that there would be no change in my rates. That left me with a warm glow and an improved financial outlook.

The average age in Emu Road must have been in the seventies. I was one of the first outsiders to move in and the other inhabitants had clearly lived there all their lives. The lady downstairs had a rent of not much more than £1 per week -- low even then. I suppose I was a prototype yuppie, although that phrase had not then been coined.

There was a tremendous community spirit. Many of the residents spent much of the day, if it was good weather, sitting outside their front doors. Although I could never be part of the community, I was made welcome and derived some practical benefits as well, like the time when I omitted to shut my front door on leaving for work. On my return, the door was still open, but a neighbour from across the street came over and told me she had watched it all day and no-one had gone in.

I got married in 1977 and my wife and I were on our honeymoon - Crete -- during the jubilee celebrations that marked the queen's 25th year on the throne. When we returned it was clear that there had been one helluva party. There was bunting all over the place.

At each end of the road, someone had drawn a huge crown on the road, in red, white and blue -- probably ten feet across. They were still visible when we left for a rather larger house in Hammersmith, in 1978.