Let's move to Edgbaston, Birmingham | Money | The Guardian

Let's move to Edgbaston, Birmingham | Money | The Guardian

What's it got going for it? Oh, you mean Edgbaaaaarston, as my dad used to call it, in mock poshness, whenever we'd pass through en route for the Bull Ring. With its squillion-pound Regency villas, this place can hold its own against Hampstead, Belgravia and any upper-crust spot down south. There's something frightfully frightfully about Edgbaston. Always has been since the landowners forbade smelly factories and the urchins that went with them. Brum's middle classes flocked here, along with all their paraphernalia, such as Birmingham University's pretty Victorian campus, the Barber Institute art gallery, the botanic gardens, and other delights not beginning with B. Like the cricket. A few roguish, scruffy elements have snuck in to muddy the waters, thank the Lord. Balti houses. Sixties semis. They might even let you and me in.