Yale University

Goodsway Mooring was an oasis in hell. In London's urban wasteland, it was rare to find a community not destroyed by decades of urbanisation—but ours had survived. In an area rife with poverty, addiction and seedy dealings advertised in back-page ads, we were the people who had picnics on our narrow-boat roofs and who named our pontoon 'Bluebelle's First Steps'. My family exhibited a similar dichotomy, finding comedy in the lack of space that meant my mum's cello was stored in the bathtub, and reveling in the storybook quality of having a cupboard for my bed. Such simple pleasures as feeding…