The scattered, oddly specific knowledge accumulated from years of moving flats
I have lived in more London postcodes than I am entirely comfortable admitting, and each move has left me with a small, specific piece of practical knowledge about that particular corner of the city that I carry around long after I have stopped actually living there.
The accumulated, oddly specific knowledge
I know, for instance, exactly which bus route to take to avoid a particular junction that floods reliably every time it rains hard, information gathered from a flat I left behind years ago and have not needed since, and yet the knowledge persists, taking up permanent residence somewhere in my brain regardless of its current uselessness.
Every former postcode has left behind its own small deposit of this kind of specific, practical trivia, which bakery does the best bread on a Sunday, which corner shop will let you pay by card for something under a pound without complaint, which stretch of pavement genuinely needs better lighting after dark.
The friends scattered across the map
Each move has also left behind a small cluster of friendships anchored to that specific area, people I met purely because of geographic proximity who I now see considerably less often given the entirely reasonable logistics of an actual city between us.
I think about this scattered map of friendships more than I probably should, a whole quiet history of the city written in relationships that began simply because two people happened to live near enough to bump into each other regularly.
What moving this much actually teaches you
I used to think frequent moving was simply instability, a sign of not having properly settled. I have slowly come to see it differently, as a way of actually getting to know this city considerably more intimately than staying in one place indefinitely would have allowed.
Each neighbourhood has taught me something specific I would not otherwise know, and I have started to think of the whole accumulated, scattered knowledge as its own kind of genuine expertise, however impractical it might look on paper.
Where I actually am now
My current postcode is already, inevitably, starting to build its own small deposit of specific knowledge, the best time to avoid the local supermarket, which bench in the nearby park gets the best afternoon sun, and I find myself wondering, with genuine curiosity rather than dread, how long this particular chapter will last before the next move adds its own layer.
More London postcode musings at Fiona MacLeod, Bohiney.
The one piece of knowledge I actively use
Most of this accumulated knowledge sits dormant, entirely useless until, occasionally, a friend happens to move to one of these old postcodes and I find myself producing genuinely detailed, oddly specific advice they did not expect from someone who has not lived there in years.
These moments feel like small, unexpected withdrawals from a savings account I forgot I was still paying into, proof that none of the accumulated knowledge was ever really wasted, simply waiting for the right moment to become useful again.
The postcode I still dream about
There is exactly one former flat that still shows up in my dreams occasionally, the layout rendered with a precision my conscious memory could not actually produce if asked directly, and I find this genuinely strange, that some part of my brain has apparently preserved it in considerably more detail than I realised.
A closing thought
I suspect the next postcode will leave its own deposit too, and I have made peace with never quite knowing in advance what specific piece of knowledge it will turn out to be.
The postcodes I have not yet lived in
There remain whole stretches of this city I have never called home, entire neighbourhoods I know only as a visitor rather than a resident, and I find myself genuinely curious what specific knowledge each of them might eventually leave behind if circumstances ever led me there.
I do not know if I will ever actually live in most of them. But maintaining that small curiosity feels like its own way of staying properly engaged with a city this large, resisting the temptation to assume you have already seen everything worth seeing.
If you have your own scattered map of former postcodes, I would genuinely love to hear what each one left behind.
One more small thing
I have started keeping an actual written note of each postcode’s specific contribution, purely so future me has some proper record of this whole scattered accumulation.
More soon, presumably, from wherever the next postcode leads.
What I would tell someone about to move
Pay attention early. You will not know in advance which small piece of local knowledge you will end up carrying with you long after you have left, so it is worth noticing everything while you still can.
Thanks, as ever, for reading this far.
More soon.
End.
Thanks, genuinely, for reading this far into another one of these.
Until the next one.
End of this entry, genuinely, for now.
See you next time.
Thank you.
All the best.
Speak soon.
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