As my first full week on the Wanstead and Woodford Guardian draws to a close and the second begins, there are two things I have found particularly striking about the area.

The first is that most people have so far been helpful and friendly, and look at me less askance for noisily tapping away at my keyboard in cafes for three hours at a time.

The second thing is that, almost unfailingly and in South Woodford particularly, these cafes are FAR NOISIER THAN WALTHAM FOREST and I often find I have to SHOUT TO MAKE MYSELF HEARD. The other day, for example, while sitting in a cafe in George Lane (not my usual) attempting to make a few phone calls, the cacophony was mind-boggling.

Besides the usual, and forgiveable, customer-based noise (children, chatting, cutlery, etc.) the radio was turned up to bone-vibrating volume and there was an inexplicable sound as of some heavy duty tool coming from the kitchen (pneumatic dishwasher? Ritual slaughter of the sink?) which rendered it impossible to be heard, even when shouting.

I have also occasionally set up camp in one of our beloved multinationals in Wanstead, as, even more occasionally, it's possible to use one of their plug sockets for my laptop and it is also quieter. However, it's hard to decide whether I'd prefer the plangent strains of of some soft-jazz peddling songstress to the din of South Woodford.

All that aside, however, I think I'm starting to get used to life on a new patch. There's currently a campaign to save a Christian bookshop from closure in South Woodford, which I've been covering, and the depth of feeling about it is quite impressive.

Started up at a Woodford church, whose reverend asked churchgoers to stump up as much cash as they could, the campaign is now going great guns.

So far, more than £30,000 has been raised, maybe even closer to £35,000, and the devoted (and devout) staff are determined not to let the store go.

It was heartening, as well, to see maybe 10 customers in at 10am as the shop was opening, all interested, all hoping to save something they see as a local institution.

Manager Dominic Stinchcombe also described his early days at the shop with a warmth that displayed a real affection for it and an honest desire to save it from imminent demise.

More power to them, I say.