White, working class terrace houses in a northern city. 2 and 3-bedroom houses, no front gardens. Growing up in the 70s it was mostly families or older couples whose kids had left home. We played out in the street, and women sat outside on a dining chair. Maybe one or two cars in the road. The houses were spotless. Women literally scrubbed the doorsteps clean and net curtains were pristine, but I guess us kids were mucky little buggers from all of the outside play. Very low crime rate (I guess there was nothing to steal?). We'd "go on 'road" (meaning the local high street) and bump in to extended family or the people dad worked with or playground friends of my mam. There were green grocers, butchers, a fish mongers, a newsagents, hardware shop, chippie etc.

Now the houses are mostly HMOs housing economic migrants mostly young and middle-aged men with no mothers or grandparents to keep them in line. Lots of cars, too many cars for the parking spaces and informal car repairs going on. Or refugee families without the same cultural norms as us. Rubbish piles up (bins now kept on the pavement rather than in back yards) and flytipping from repeat offenders. Lots of loud music late at night. Kids stealing parcels from doorsteps or damaging car wingmirrors. The high street has changed too - vape shops, Turkish barbers, European mini-marts and takeaways.

It's difficult to be one of the remaining households which hasn't changed and remembers how it used to be.

And I can't say any of this to friends or colleagues.