childhood in commission flatts

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The novelty of height was particularly exciting to a primary school kid, an unlikely fascination being the rubbish chute in a corner of the long and narrow kitchen. The idea that something could just disappear forever down a dark, dank and smelly chasm right in your own home was both intriguing and repugnant.

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Then there is the darker side to high-rise living.
People would brazenly dispose of bulky items directly from their apartment windows, including cabinets and television sets – ‘Killer Litter’ posed a real threat.
High-rise flats were, and are still associated with suicide. One evening while doing my homework, I heard a sudden loud ‘thud’ – rushing over to the balcony I was confronted with a traumatic sight: on the concrete apron of the opposite block, a woman in pink pyjamas lay face-down in a rapidly spreading dark pool. The police arrived and covered the body in a black sheet; the incident was reported in the newspapers the next day. The blood stain took months of washing and rainfall to lighten; I avoided walking along that stretch of pavement for some years until we moved out of Clementi.