My family moved from Tokyo, Japan six months ago to Hampstead, London.
No one wanted to do this, except for me and this move was met with great resistance, crying, home-sickness, critical comments, unrest and refusal to see London as home.
We moved to a "private road" that boasts a lovely green circle in the middle where all of the children could theoretically play and be neighborhly. Having five children myself, I was in awe of our new home. It had outdoor space, is large and in close proximity to the stinky tube.
One problem. While the sign boasts, "private road" it does not have any security. No cameras, no gate, nothing.
Within 18 hours of moving to this lovely home, I opened a french door window in the reception ( living ) room. Outside of the door is a small patio and then a gate. Our house is set back from the street by this patio so I felt completely fine opening my window.
My son took a nap on the couch and I made dinner in the adjoining room. Since it was quiet I decided to check my email. I walked into the room where my son was sleeping and the PC was gone. My son slept soundly.
Muddy tracks, very muddy tracks were all over the room. They started at the french window and ended where my PC used to be. My PC was stolen while my son slept on the sofa, while i was in the next room at 2:15 pm on a Wednesday.
I called the police who didn't really care and ensured that all of my children were accounted for.
This was the beginning of being bombarded with robberies, theiveries, thugs approaching my house day and night, break-ins, attempted break-ins, navigation system being stolen out of the car twice, a forensic team appearing to figure out why our neighbor woke up dead, and a feeling of un safety.
Of course I spoke with the owner and he refused to do anything to help. After the last break in I asked him to call the security company and ask for the free service of upgrading the security signs and he simply refused. He told me that my son had broken the window (not true my son was skiing and a repair team reported differently) and it wasn't his problem.
Basically all the owner had to do was to help me, make my home more safe. He refused to do this on any level.
So, we are moving. The new home has security cars that drive up and down the road, a large gate, state of the art security and is not adjacent to Hampstead Heath (think Central Park). The new home is NOT in Hampstead.
I don't like Hampstead, never will and wish that I had never considered living here. With the exception of fun things happening like Sasha Baron or George Micheal (when he's not in jail) appearing at our local pub, nothing normal happens.
People who live in Hampstead seem to think they are better then other people and this gets played out at the bank or the mobile phone shop where people scream at each other and everyone shouts about how important they are and why they need immediate attention.
I have never been to a creepier, weirder, crime infested, place in my life and I am happy to leave.