Harringay online

Harringay, Haringey - So Good they Spelt it Twice!

Looking for something on Haringey's website this morning, I came across on the ward profiles. Clicking first in Harringay's, I was pleasantly surprised by a set of data that's been refreshed a much more accessibly presented than previously. 

The profiles make interesting reading. In particular, I was struck by the fact that Harringay Ward has a significantly lower male life expectancy than the borough average. It's beaten by both of Harringay's other wards. 

Men do best in Crouch End, where they can expect to live about three years longer than Ladder men.

Strangely, the pattern is reversed for women. In Harringay at 86.4 years,  it's close to the borough maximum of 87.1. St Ann's is slightly lower at 85.3. But in contrast to the happy fate of their menfolk, worst of all is Seven Sisters ward where it's only 85.3 year. 

Are we about to to a spate of health-induced geriatric partner-swapping in Harringay?

Full reports for Harringay wards attached. Others can be accessed here.

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Interesting stuff, although since the effort and upheaval of moving house to the other side of either Green Lanes would itself knock a few months off life expectancy I'm not sure it's worth it. Might be easier to have a sex change?

I'm not sure that 0.3 years is very significant. Even the GLA say "  slightly lower ". Statistics, eh ? 

Wightman vs Hermitage is 1.3 years. 

But you say " lower ...than the Borough average "

It's all a bit academic really. I seriously doubt that I will make even the Harringay average.

That'll drag down Harringay a bit farther.

It’s a bit more complicated than that.  Men tend to work in more hazardous occupations, drink more, smoke more, have more road accidents, take more drugs, have a worse diet, use early intervention health care less and engage in and be victims of violent crime than women.  In essence we’re rubbish at staying alive.

It's them damned hills that do for us aul ladder lads!  I used take Mattison Road, with loaded Karrimor rucksack and two shopping bags, in one go. Now with a smaller Karriless rucksack, one bag and a stick, I find myself taking two comfort stops, counting to 20 while admiring the backward vista over Tottenham, before tackling the last steep rise toward Wightman. I notice the wife, with trolley, still does it in one go. Deep breath, count to 40 after them four sentences. 

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