On Thursday 25th March I decided to spend a few hours of my valuable and quality time off work in Deptford South London. I pass through this area day after day on my way to work on a packed train. Deptford is based in New Cross which is home to Deptford Public Library and Goldsmith College which were my chosen destinations. I must admit, the area is not the most inviting and there are quite a few derelict houses and business...it is badly in need of regeneration.

My first stop off was the Library and after handing a signed promotional copy of my book to a very impressed librarian called David I headed off to GoldSmith College. I really should have organised my visit beforehand and wondered for a moment if the receptionist would refuse access to the library. When she asked me the purpose of my visit I produced my book and was quite pleased when she admired the cover of the book and slowley browsed through the pages with a broad smile on her face. She was very impressed and asked me to follow her....the book appeared to be a passport or a key in this case. It was up hill from this point on as the college librarian spoke about a project she was involved in and that 'British Black Gospel' was an amazing 'coincidence'.

I walked out and stepped into the busy street outside feeling quite pleased with myself and what I felt was a good afternoon so far.

I crossed the road and rather than heading for the train station quickly glanced at my watch and thought, 'I have an hour to kill'. I decided to walk towards Deptford Market with the plan to visit a couple of record shops and pop in on a fast food takeaway, perhaps for some fried chicken...how healthy!!

On route my attention was suddenly diverted to what was it seems a small group of foreign tourists who were huddled together looking at a pocket guide and pointing to a house. I heard one of them say something in a broken French accent which made me stand in my tracks and move within hearing distance of the group. The tourist said, 'this was the house of the Deptford fire in 1981'. 

For the uninitiated, in January 1981, 13 black youngsters died in a suspicious house fire which broke out in the early hours of a Sunday Morning during a packed house party. The cause of the fire was never determined and inquests have followed over the years but to no avail. The tourists moved on and went on to what was probably there next stop off in the tourist guidebook. I remained and stared at a broad black door with the 3 silver figures '439' across the uppermost part. The property was a mid-terraced imposing 3 storeys monument-like structure which seemed to stretch to the skies together with a basement.

When I think about the real life horror movie that took place in this house a cold chill literally ran down my spine and I felt what was a strange unsettling feeling. Someone on the second floor of the property looked out of the window and stared directly at me, probably uncomfortable and security concious no doubt. A quick impulsive thought raced through my mind, 'did this person realise that they were living in what was in effect a tomb?'.

Perhaps not, because what struck me was that apart from the address '439 New Cross Road' there was no sign, plaque or symbol of any kind to remind the public about this dark but important piece of British black history. 

January 2011 will be the 30th anniversary of this incident....maybe a plaque in memory of the victims could be placed on this property....despite the political and social raw nerves that are still exposed within the black community.

I finally recaptured my thoughts and glanced at my watch only to realise that I was standing outside this house for a very long time. Somehow I had lost my appetite and the desire to seek entertainment by way of picking up a few musical gems in a record shop had expired.

It was time to go home now and I headed off towards New Cross train station reflecting back on a very interesting, productive and thought provoking afternoon.