Croydon

 Earlier today I had the dismal experience of walking through central Croydon (on my way to more civilised parts). The air of squalor, dereliction and social collapse in what in living memory was a sedate suburban shopping centre seems to get more pungent every time I set foot in the place (which is as seldom as possible). The few survivals from an earlier Croydon – once the country seat of the Archbishops of Canterbury – seem ever more isolated and incongruous amid the hideous skyscrapers and depressing shopping streets. If ever I needed to strengthen my resolve to move to Lichfield – and I'm not likely to – I need only pay a quick visit to Croydon to set me right. 
However, there was one bright note: I noticed this image of Croydon's most famous son, the composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, over the entrance to one of the shopping centres. It's been given a a gratuitous touch of street cred by the addition of headphones and a jazzy background, but at least it's recognisable, and there. Heaven knows what SC-T would make of Croydon as it is today.