The Feeding Of The Addiction or How I Survived Brent Cross Shopping Centre...

What could be better that on a cold and miserable Sunday than to idly while away the hours with a gentle stroll around some entertaining and rather beautifully arranged shops? Right! I hear you say! So, from feeling refreshed as I do, from a morning’s meander down the Portobello Road, I find myself wandering dangerously near to the North side of that wonderful place we affectionately know as Londinium, (or London, to the rest of us…)

After teasing my purse strings with the delights of all that modern, yet sweetly trendy Notting Hill experience, my sub conscious obviously felt a strong desire to pull me towards something that can only be described as, ’ugly.’ Why on Earth would we want to hurry around the manic depressively concrete hovel that is Brent Cross Shopping Centre, when Griff Rhys Jones can’t wait to get away from it?

Although the sky was twinkling with blue hues and the sun was in it’s wintry state of relaxation from my usual haunt of Portobello, there came, drifting over my car towards Cricklewood, a strange darkness, and a sound that only a cello can make on impending danger. I was worming my way towards Brent Cross…(what was the matter with me? Was the A41 shut that day?) The great concreted breeze block came into view from my journey over the Edgware Road, surrounded by the defiant North Circular above my head and a mass of whirling dual carriage ways tangling around each other around me, I felt that I had come to the end of the World, or London, at least. A point of no return, I edged towards this prison with in trepidation.

Having successfully navigated my way around the car park, only finding that after half an hour waiting for a space, I could have carried on around the back to a multi story- I found that my afternoon of sheer angst and confusion had only just begun. The first thing I head for, like the British tourist that I am in such places, is this warming sight of a large protruding map, glowing from all angles in the middle of the walk way. It was a vision that one dreams about in such places (I might add that it is only after years of experienced circum navigation of Blue Water, that I can walk, freely passed a board shouting, ‘YOU ARE HERE’) and here I was, now with eyes transfixed like a short sighted refugee looking at a map of the Northern Line, trying to figure out my way (out) of this loosely titled, shopping centre.

What I discovered, to my temporary relief, was a small map (to the stars would have been more helpful) which only erased my smile when I was faced with a series of maps of all exits out of Brent Cross. One showing the A406, in it’s notable glory, both East and West via all the best places - Wembley, Barnet, Enfield and also, if you desired a quick escape, the M1. I should have read the signs there and then. On the minute I venture into this forsaken venue, I am already being shown every conceivable way out.

I should have ran like the wind…..

Eventually, after I had stopped crying, I noticed another oasis in the sea of scruffy legs and wailing kids. It seem to call to me with angelic voices, yes! It was another glowing board in the obstacles of life showing me little leaflets which told me the numbers of the shops, but made no other sense what so ever. I scrambled over, thirsty and hungry for information. I flicked through the collapsible pamphlet where I could make out Lower Mall and Upper Mall, and lots of numbers. So, in my wisdom, I decided to play this game of ‘Crystal Maze,’ and did my best to link secret codes and their retail counterparts.

Not easy, so I thought - stuff it - where is MacDonald’s?

So there I was, sitting in the most crowded (apart from Croydon) MacDonald’s I had experienced in a long time. They are all here for piling on the pounds - Burger King, Pizza Hut, Yo! Sushi (fine, if you want raw stickleback) Starbucks and BB’s - the list is endless. You can knock yourself out with serious amounts of fat whilst squeezing into a size 0 from the multitude of girlie boutiques that are on offer.

The usual high street suspects are hugged warmly by Karen Millen, Kookai and Jane Norman, which, are fabulous, if you can afford to spend wads of cash in there. I find, for a woman about town like my good self (a twice married, grumpy old bat the wrong side of 35) that there is little in the way of us ‘matures.’ Dotty P’s I guess if we’re really desperate, or there is John Lewis. Again, a second mortgage may come in handy here for the latter. So we may be swamped to death with the biggest high street names you can swing a Gucci handbag at, but what’s for the darling beefcakes in our lives? Here, this is were it falls flat. If it’s a suit he is after, then take your pick from anything off the peg from Top Man to something for several weekends and a handful of funerals from Hugo Boss. One can’t wait to stroll passed without doing a quick ‘Fast Show’ rendition of ‘Suits you.’

For the kiddie winks, you can pamper the little darlings in Baby Gap (arh!) and let them run riot in the Early Learning Centre but the statutory toy shops are on a day off here. Not a bad thing, when you think about it, most kids of a primary school age, can spot an ELC at twenty paces. There is no sneaking around the lifts with my son, I can tell you…

There is an Abbey National for those who have an account, and if not - tough. There is also a Bureau de Change in Marks and Spencer’s for those of you who just feel the need to buy something in euros, (you should really get out more) - or who have just got off the boat. There are, in fact, a great amount of shops, but there is just one question - where the hell are they? One gets the impression that these shops just don’t exist. As I sit and look back over my painful afternoon at London’s worst venue to spend money, I find it incredible that I managed to walk around it in less than half an hour, so is it possible that I sped round these shops, not really looking at them, only for a need to get back to the car and drive as fast as I could away from the place? Who knows, all I remember is vacantly saying to my family, ‘hang on - haven’t we done Fenwick’s already?’

I could let you in on the workings and the fundamental thinking behind London’s most ugliest building, so I will, just to make some interesting reading…..

The idea came to the borough of Barnet of the first shopping centre to be built in this country. Built in 1976, it laid, would you believe, the foundations of the way we were to shop from then on. Going, or at least, slightly disintegrating, were the small, corner shops and old curiosity shops from where we just to go. (It is here, that I realise, what I had actually done, was crossed over a generation of shoppers - from the smallest of businesses in Notting Hill in the morning to the powerless, slums of Brent Cross in the afternoon.) It is made me ask the question - why on Earth have we swapped the niceties of the small shop for the concrete coldness of the shopping centre? We have, gone for convenience in the modern world. We don’t like to be out in all weathers anymore. We want comfort, practicality and choice. Or do we?

When we look at Brent Cross, we see the failings in out own complex ideas of better living. What was unique in 1976, seems faceless, uneventful and depressing in 2007. Strangely, it has won awards for it’s successful event holding and marketing from recent advertising campaigns - perhaps, the only thing that Brent Cross has going for it. It is hard to imagine why it has never been knocked down. Since the mass intrusion of the afore mentioned Blue Water and Lakeside both in pressing their noses against the outer edges of the M25, Brent Cross has had to work hard to keep up with it’s super sonic peers. Like the old lady of the shopping centre dynasty, Brent Cross still stands, and possibly will be the only man made mark in industrial history left standing after Armageddon.

Squashed in by it’s tightening boundaries, Brent Cross has no where to expand, so stuck in the vaults of time, this tragic building lacking in charm and tranquillity can only ever be, what it will always be and always has been - a mess. Despite the tube station only a few minutes away, it does have free parking. A feat in London in itself and should be applauded just for keeping that one going…

The opening times are somewhat peculiar, especially for a Sunday. Proud to be different (in everyway) the shops don’t open on a Sunday until noon, although, one can browse from 11.30 am. The idea is so that ‘the shopper can lay in bed for a while longer, after the night before.’ Something that some of us have forgotten about. Obviously, the Brent Cross shopper has been out on the waz and needs a few more Alcazeltzers before embarking on a unheaving shopping expedition. But, if you want, you can hang around till six!! (It’s then dark, and you have yet to refer back to your multitude of maps for a preferred exit - don’t forget that Hanger Lane is pretty nasty if you’re not used to it.)

There are a few hidden extras, if you can be bothered to find them; why not pick up all your shopping from one of the big stores at a ‘Collect By Car’ point? Straight off the Northern Line, it has it’s own tube station ‘Brent Cross,’ or just look out for it from either the A5 from Paddington, Cricklewood and Kilburn or the North Circular by the M1 junction. Of course, it includes shop mobility help and an information desk that you can email before your visit (should you really want to still go…)

Despite the baby friendly services and the dry cleaners that you wouldn’t normally get from anywhere else (how about a free buggy on your visit?) these little things go completely un noticed due to the impending structure that it both intimidating and raw. It is, it has to be said, a shame that this block of dust and sand is still standing and given no attention at all. Whilst the two great sisters of the M25 stand proud, Brent Cross seems to have become a bit of an embarrassment (like Ken Livingstone) over the last few years. It’s ‘Feed Your Addiction,’ campaign through advertisement marketing seems to have poured in some revenue and despite it’s off putting physical state and it’s marble polished prison like interior, it still attracts a vast amount of people - even on a Sunday. It’s parking for 8000 cars for it’s 110 stores and café’s seems to be full no matter what day.



The website, should you feel the need to stay at home, is still worth a visit. One can browse around something that doesn’t quite fit with the actually venue. You can see the best images shot in the best light and even sign up for a news letter on the ‘Feed The Addiction,’ campaign (the shoppers delight.) So, the story isn’t all bad, yet a tear to the eye may find itself rolling down you cheek in sadness. If not you, then your bank manager at least - simply for the mere fact that you can wander in and out of the entire place in less that 30 minutes and not buy a thing…







www.brentcross.co.uk




Mon - Fri - 10am to 8pm
Saturday - 9am to 7pm
Sunday - 12 noon to 6pm
Bank Holidays - 10 am to 6pm.

A406 North Circular,
Barnet
North London.



©m.duffy (sam1942) 2006.
Ciao and dooyoo.