In 2017, David Lloyd Clubs took out a long lease on the privately owned sports facility at the end of my road. It used to be called the Park Club, but the new leaseholders, having spent £9 million tarting it up, proposed to call it ‘David Lloyd Chiswick Park’. As a proud resident of Acton, I was outraged and wrote to the CEO, pointing out that the new name would antagonise the locals by implying there was something shameful about their area. ‘The club is on a street called East Acton Lane, it’s about 250 yards from a railway station called Acton Central and 500 yards from a sign saying “Welcome to Acton”,’ I wrote. ‘If you pretend the club is located in Chiswick you will be ridiculed.’

He didn’t reply, but he must have got my letter because when the facility did reopen it was called ‘David Lloyd Acton Park’. That was a good decision, not least because five years later Acton is well on its way to becoming smarter than Chiswick. I’m biased, obviously, but things have changed since the makers of the current affairs series World in Action joked that if ITV cut its budget any further they’d have to rename it World in Acton. According to a piece in the Financial Times last year, the average price of a house in Acton has increased by 75 per cent in the past ten years, reaching £1.04 million in 2022. Chiswick house prices, by contrast, have risen only 55 per cent in the same period.

The Station Café, a greasy spoon, has taken to advertising gingerbread lattes in an effort to compete

This boom is partly due to London’s Crossrail project, with Acton Main Line becoming a stop on the new Elizabeth line. If I time it right, I can get to Liverpool Street in half an hour. Islington benefited from being an easy commute from the City, and Acton is experiencing the same uplift. We hear a lot about the national housing shortage, but there’s precious little evidence of it round here. New residential developments have sprung up everywhere, including what is now the largest tower block in west London. At night I can see the red lights of cranes winking at me in every direction.

Until now, the nearest shop to my house was a Londis, but a new development opposite David Lloyd Acton Park boasting 65 flats is nearing completion and will include a supermarket on the ground floor. Whenever I pass it on my nightly dog walk I peer be-hind the hoarding, trying to work out what it will be, but so far there are no clues. Ten years ago we would have been lucky if it was a Spar or an Aldi, but now my expectations are soaring. Could it conceivably be a Little Waitrose? Probably not, but I’m hoping for a Co-op at the very least.

The influx of new residents has also led to a proliferation of cafés and restaurants springing up on Churchfield Road, Acton’s answer to Marylebone High Street. In just the past 12 months, half a dozen have opened. There’s Poets, for instance, a wine and tapas bar on the edge of a residential area the local estate agents have named ‘Poets Corner’ because of its pretty Victorian streets bearing the names of Milton, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Cowper and Goldsmith. There’s a wine shop called Vindinista owned by a lady who’s the only licensed importer of Canadian wine in the UK, and a new Japanese café to complement the street’s two sushi bars. The most recent addition is Noco, an upmarket deli that could give Ottolenghi a run for his money. There’s even a rumour that Gail’s is eyeing up a location on Churchfield Road, surely the ultimate symbol of gentrification.

I worry that the footfall, while increasing, won’t be enough to support all these new hospitality businesses. Can they survive? And if they do, what will happen to the places that pre-date this boom, such as the Station Café, a greasy spoon that has taken to advertising gingerbread lattes in an effort to compete? My favourite coffee shop is Buono, a no-frills Italian which is the only place on the street where a request for a cortado won’t be met with incomprehension. Will Gail’s blow it out of the water? I find it incredibly sad when independently owned cafés and restaurants go out of business, knowing their closure represents the death of somebody’s dream. Such are the costs of living in an up-and-coming area.

In general, though, I’m a fan of gentrification. In 1991, when I bought my first flat in Shepherd’s Bush, I fantasised about moving nearer and nearer to Notting Hill as I inched my way up the property ladder. In fact, I’ve gone in the opposite direction, getting ever closer to Heathrow. But today, with Notting Hill overrun by tourists, I’m glad I’ve ended up in Acton. I may even join the David Lloyd at the end of my street.