As Dom Hallas leads me towards his block of flats, he glances up at the exterior, an endless expanse of dull, brown bricks interrupted by a few tiny windows and a curious-looking zigzag design picked out in lighter stone. “It’s true,” Hallas admits, opening the heavy security door with an electronic fob. “When I tell people where I live, some do say: ‘Oh, I always thought that was Brixton prison.’”
It is an easy mistake to make. Southwyck House, only nine storeys high but almost 250 metres long, looms like a gigantic wall just outside the centre of Brixton. It is one of south London’s most obvious and, it has to be said, forbidding landmarks.
