I'm posting a carbon copy of my very first home, as the actual one was pulled down in the early 70's and replaced by a characterless boxlike monstrosity.
This is Kings Langley Fire Station, about ten miles from where 'my' Fire Station was situated (Radlett).
My dad was a Fireman (firefighter nowadays, soooo American) for most of his working life, and was a Londoner through and through, being stationed in various locations around the City during the Blitz, according to which Station buildings survived.
At the end of the war, he was one of the Firemen who went out to train the newly fledged full time professional Fire service, and was billeted in Radlett as he had a wife and two young daughters (my sisters) as Radlett Station had the added benefit of having virtually a complete Victorian house built onto the back.
My bruvs and I came along, and we stayed there until I was about nine or ten.
Radlett was the first bit of 'country' outside London, but was still quite busy. Our tiny back garden backed straight onto the StPancras to Bedford line, affectionately known as the bedpan line.
Outside our front door was Watling Street, the main route into London. It ended up at Marble Arch, some 14 miles away. I knew it was 14 miles, as the old 'milestone' was wedged up alongside our front door frame.
At night we had express trains whistling past, goods trains which clanked for hours, and many many commuter trains.
Lorries rumbled past the front door, rattling the crockery, and at least two or three times a day (night as well) the siren went off which was followed by lots of various noises as the Pump (fire engine) was prepared and driven away.
Despite the noise and hubbub, the entire family slept like logs. When we finally moved away to a proper house which overlooked fields with munching cows, none of us could sleep as it was too quiet!