The grass in the park was empty. The teens had taken possession of the swings. No footballs were being kicked or dens being built or interaction taking place, beyond that of older kids bundling onto busses and being a pain in the arse. ‘No Ball Games Allowed’ – or desired, it appeared. Only in Bethnal Green Road were kids playing, at being gangs; winding up the staff in McDonalds; exploring how far they could push adults without them pushing back.

We did grow up on bombsites here. We scuffed a Health And Safety officer’s nightmare full of knees. And it’s easy to romanticise that into something more than it was (which wasn’t very much, and pretty dangerous too.) But there was a sense we were at a special age; a distinct time to explore and enjoy and remember. And I think you can see it in the faces of the children in these photographs too.

Now, where are the kids who populate these pictures; kept indoors, safe from predators, playing Grand Theft Auto and abusing strangers on Facebook until the day their parents can’t contain them anymore?