November 8th is one of a handful of dates which, spoken out loud, makes a word.
Nov 8: novate (verb) To replace with something new
Here are some others, best first.
Mar 10: marten (noun) Small carnivorous mammal Dec 8: decate (verb) Steam clothing to uncurl it Jan 9: Janine (proper noun) A female given name Mar 4: Martha (proper noun) A female given name Oct 10: octane (noun) Hydrocarbon found in petrol Apr 8: apparate (verb) To appear magically Jan 2: gentoo (noun) species of penguin May 10: mayten (noun) Tree native to South America Jul 18: gelatine (noun) Edible jelly Jul 8: gelate (verb) To form a gel Jan 8: jennet (noun) Female ass or donkey Feb 4: The Beatles (proper noun) Mersey beat combo Sep 6: sepsis (noun) Dangerous inflammatory condition Mar 1: maroon (noun) Rich dark-brownish red colour Apr 1: apron (noun) Clothing worn to protect from spills Aug 1: organ (noun) Musical instrument with multiple pipes Dec 1: deacon (noun) Clergyman ranked below priest
Sat 8 Nov 1975: Watched episode 3 of the quintessentially excellent Pyramids of Mars in which the Doctor failed to stop some mummies building a rocket. Mon 8 Nov 1976: My brother and I always spent Monday evenings with my grandmother and she always made us watch ITV all evening, so that'll have been Opportunity Knocks, Coronation Street (Stan leaves Hilda), George and Mildred and World in Action. Tue 8 Nov 1977: This was the last day in my life I didn't know I needed glasses. A trip to the opticians tomorrow would confirm the worst... and nobody else in my class was wearing them yet! Wed 8 Nov 1978: At lunchtime bought an ice cream from the van parked outside the school gates. Our favoured purchase was a '7p special', a cornet with squirty sauce and sprinkles on top, although we were still smarting from it having been a '6p special' last year. Thu 8 Nov 1979: This could have been the last day of my life, wasted learning about subjunctives and coastal geomorphology, because the following day a computer at NORAD mistakenly reported 220 Soviet missiles had been fired at the US. Thankfully someone checked and they hadn't.
Sat 8 Nov 1980: Adric was the new companion on Doctor Who, deep in E-space with K9. Started planning the quiz for the choir Christmas party, and I'd like to go back now and urge myself to make it easier. Sun 8 Nov 1981: It's the day I completed one-sixth of a century on the planet. I timed the vicar's Remembrance Sunday silence and it was 2¾ minutes long. Mon 8 Nov 1982: As a sixth former they made most of us prefects, but it turned out I was rubbish on door duty so they assigned a couple of extra fifth formers to help me out. Tue 8 Nov 1983: My fellow university coursemates must have had a rough night because I was the only one up in time for the 9am lecture, where I kindly took notes and collected this week's problem sheets. They turned up at 10, then I headed back to my room to put the Christmas decorations up. Thu 8 Nov 1984: Andy had bought the game 'Elite' for his BBC Micro so we watched him trying to play it. The third night in a row I stayed up after 3am trying to do university work. Fri 8 Nov 1985: Disappointed that the rain shower overnight hadn't floated the paper boat on my balcony. Struggled with my Finals work. Went to the Bonfire Night party in the student bar and enjoyed a free half pint of cider.
Sat 8 Nov 1986: My former housemates from college made a surprise visit to my digs in Hull, waking me up at 10.30am and OMG I was not expecting that. They probably weren't expecting the paucity of my £15-a-month room. We drove to Beverley (where I took the above photo because the British Gas share offer was underway). We stopped at the roadside for a photo beside the Wetwang village sign. We drove to Pickering but the steam railway had closed for the winter. We filled up with petrol in Filey. We drove to Flamborough Head and clambered down a gully to the beach and it was marvellous. Back in Hull we struggled to find anywhere to eat on a Saturday night, but the Pecan Cafe in The Land of Green Ginger eventually sufficed.
Sun 8 Nov 1987: The air stewardess I was staying with was on a double Manchester so I had the kitchen to myself. Nicked a bit of her mint sauce to add to my roast lamb dinner. Later Bruno Brookes announced T'Pau had the UK's 600th number 1 record. Tue 8 Nov 1988: Today was 8.11.88 so I pointed this out at work and enumeration of similar dates ensued. The conversation eventually turned to whether 29.2.58 was a valid date. Meanwhile Americans were voting for either George Bush or Michael Dukakis as president and we all know how that turned out. Wed 8 Nov 1989: Nextdoor's wall blew down in the high winds. I struggled when my brolly turned inside out. Michael Palin's '80 Days' journey reached China. Thu 8 Nov 1990: The first ever episode of Harry Enfield's Television Programme (Wayne and Waynetta Slob, You Don't Want To Do That, etc). Also Labour won the Bradford North by-election, a few weeks before Maggie resigned.
Fri 8 Nov 1991: Used the freedom of my new flat to watch Thunderbirds, play Lemmings and phone up an 0898 number. Sun 8 Nov 1992: Arrived home from Cambridge in the early hours, having hit it off with a fair-haired friend of the driver in the St Radegund. That evening we headed out to The Ship to gossip about the encounter - yes you can hand over my number - but we never met again. [I remember absolutely none of this, but it's in my diary so it must have happened] Mon 8 Nov 1993: I had a nasty cold so didn't feel up to a trip to Safeway, so used up the last burgers in the freezer followed a microwaved Christmas pudding. Tue 8 Nov 1994: In meetings with neighbours, Tony wanted to pop in to check my Teletext and Ivy called me down to see if I could get rid of the bike on the stairs. Wed 8 Nov 1995: Caught the bus to work but got a lift home. Bought Smash Hits in WH Smiths. Life was in a bit of a rut.
Fri 8 Nov 1996: A cable TV salesman came round and successfully flogged me a 4-collection package. I was connected to Cabletel two weeks later. Ended the day in bed with a Unilever employee. Sat 8 Nov 1997: Pleased to discover that going onto the internet had cut my phone bills. Caught the X5 to ride over to Bicester to meet up with a university friend who clearly wasn't telling us everything at the time. Sun 8 Nov 1998: Arrived home after a bonfire night to remember. Four of us were enjoying soup and sparklers at the bottom of the garden when we were rudely interrupted by a huge alsatian suddenly rushing through the hedge. Maybe the flare-up from throwing milk powder on the flames was what startled it. The dog ran amok for a while, then ran away, then came back and chased us into the house. It was uncollared so the bravest two took it off to the police station, then returned to finish off the plum crumble. I recovered sufficiently to spend the evening filling in an application form for a job in Suffolk, and I would not be here in London today if I hadn't stayed up until 2.30am to finish it. Mon 8 Nov 1999: I was staying with my parents after splitting up with the Ex last week. Had I not I suspect I'd have been dragged to the opening of Braintree Freeport today, like the new boyfriend was. Instead I enjoyed mum's meat pie and chips and went to bed early.
THE UNLOST RIVERS OF LONDON Edgware Brook Bentley Priory → Stanmore → Edgware (3½ miles)
[Edgware Brook → Silk Stream → Brent → Thames]
In November 2015 I walked the Silk Stream north from the Welsh Harp reservoir, and when I got to Edgware I chose to follow the Dean's Brook tributary up to Scratchwood services. Ten years later I'm following the other main tributary, the Edgware Brook, which thankfully has its source somewhere far nicer. In doing so I'm approximately following the route of Silk Stream Way Trail 1 (leaflet here, map here), a year-old project attempting to encourage residents of Harrow and Barnet out and about, but only approximately because it misses several of the good bits.
The Edgware Brook and Dean's Brook combine to form the Silk Stream within the grounds of Edgware Hospital. The confluence is a grim spot behind a shuttered clinic round the back of the compactors, but simultaneously inbetween the mental health centre and breast screening unit because the NHS has to operate out of lowly buildings nobody's upgraded in years. I started here because if this was the end of the walk you'd feel pretty dispirited. The river is better seen on Deansbrook Road, a few inches of water trickling around a discarded chair, past a faded newsagent and under an inconsequential bridge. To see it again follow the alleyway beside the mosque, pass some seriously tumbledown sheds and dodge the gaze of the council cleaner wondering why you're taking such an interest in any of this.
The river's barely noticeable as it ducks under Watling Street, as was, between a Premier Inn and a car showroom, But it must be of local administrative significance because it marks the point where Burnt Oak Broadway becomes Edgware High Street, and also the boundary at which two councils have chosen to place their 'Edgware Town Centre Welcome' sign. To continue you need to find the arch through a decaying 17th coaching inn, formerly the White Hart, beyond which the Edgware Brook finally breaks free alongside a winding footpath. In scenes reminiscent of many a suburban tributary it runs between concrete and then timbered banks, with the occasional pipe emptying local drains into the flow. If nothing else it makes a decent cut-through on the way home from Lidl.
Chandos Recreation Ground is a large humpy space named in honour of a Georgian tycoon who lived locally, although this wasn't part of his glittering estate. Until last year the Edgware Brook ran unseen along the northern boundary but significant landscaping works have since seen it realigned as a naturalised channel within the park, partly because it's much prettier but also as a wildlife corridor and flood prevention measure. The original plans were to shift it even further from the fence but a high voltage cable forced a reappraisal. On my visit three workmen were digging out divots for the planting of several dozen waterside willows, like little hi-vis moles, their water bottles left on a cluster of imported rocks. It can only be an improvement.
After a brief glimpse under Merlin Crescent it's time to bid farewell to the Edgware Brook thanks to League Two football and trains. Barnet FC relocated to the playing fields by the Jubilee line embankment in 2013 with a stadium complex called The Hive, both of which the river crosses and you can't. The team's boss recently announced he intends to move the team back to Barnet because Harrow's not been conducive to maximal crowds, and in the meantime is re-laying the top of the site with artificial floodlit pitches. On the far side of the railway is Stanmore Place, a manicured development of 800 flats on the site of former government offices, whose architects took full advantage of their brookside location by transforming it into a showy fountained pool. No fishing, no swimming, no diving.
Thames 21 have undertaken more landscaping by the crossroads at the top of Honeypot Lane. A broad stripe of Stanmore Marsh survives, rewilded in 2015 as flood storage with the river now crossing wetland in a gravel channel. Volunteers work monthly to clear out Frog Pond and the swales - next appointment November 20th - and the whole area looks tons better than the previous culvert. A word to whoever erected the 'The Silk Stream Way' waymarking signs, they look good but are useless because I only saw three and they're impractically unfollowable. Down Wemborough Road the stream chops off a triangular corner of the school playing fields which has been designated as an exercising space for dogs. I would have gone in to investigate but a particularly bouncy golden hound had beaten me to it, and I'm only glad it didn't bound in after I'd entered.
The next sighting of the Edgware Brook is off-road beside the entrance to Stanmore Golf Club. Three operatives from the Environment Agency were busy cleaning out gunk from the Wolverton Road Screen, thankfully with a whiff of foliage rather than anything browner. A three minute path tracks the stream past gnarled rotting trunks and hoarding squirrels, crossing a concrete slab bridge halfway. This emerges on Gordon Avenue near the gateposts to an 18th century banker's mansion called Stanmore Park - later a boys school, then RAF Balloon Command and since 1997 another upmarket housing estate. The long ducky lake facing the most expensive flats is called Temple Pond, although it's looking a bit of a mess at the moment. It was desilted over the summer and the lakeside is currently a mudbath, like a dozen horses have been galloping up and down, but rest assured it'll be sown with fresh grass in the spring.
The headwaters of the Edgware Brook rise on the slopes of Bentley Priory Local Nature Reserve on the other side of Uxbridge Road. This is a fabulous 90 acre mosaic of woodland, meadow and heath, and at this time of year also mulch and squidge. Cattle and horses graze the lower pasture, fallow deer have a separate paddock up top and dogs are permitted an excitable time in certain areas only. Two fledgling streams join on the edge of Old Lodge Meadow before exiting past Boot Pond, a reedy pool which is named after its shape. The lesser of these tributaries arrives alongside a farm track while the main flow carves a channel from higher up past knotted roots and occasional nature trail posts. Last time I was here it was July and I described the ground as 'parched clay', whereas this time I was very glad I'd worn boots.
In the middle of the woods behind a protective fence is Summerhouse Lake, dammed in the 1850s when Bentley Priory at the top of the hill was the home of the Dowager Queen Adelaide. This is absolutely glorious, I thought, as I made an isolated solo circumnavigation of the lake across a crunchy autumn carpet. Near the southwestern corner is the oldest oak in Middlesex, a sprawling 500 year-old giant with a 9m circumference known as the Master Oak. And on the far side a thin sinuous trickle descends the leafy slopes, fed by springs which emerge where the upper gravels meet the lower London Clay.
This lakeside bowl is easily the most delightful part of the Edgware Brook's brief journey, and this is why I journeyed from a hospital car park to the woods and not, as the stream does, vice versa.
It's only five months since glass-bottomed cabins appeared on the Dangleway. Well, the gimmicks come thick and fast in North Greenwich because the latest is aerial singalongs. It's called Cable Car-aoke, and I can't believe nobody's thought of it before.
It's on offer from 13 November to 19 December on Thursday and Fridays (twelve evenings altogether), very much with an eye on the Christmas party market. You get microphones, party lights, a speaker and a playlist of 1000 songs to sing along to. Don't expect built-in facilities, it looks more like someone's been to Argos and bought two portable karaoke machines. Those who pay up get two return trips, i.e. four crossings, i.e. about 40 minutes. Overall prices range from £69 for two people to £109 for six. Drinks cost £5 extra per person (with photo ID required if you go alcoholic). Solo singers aren't permitted.
So far none of the slots have been booked, let alone sold out, but imagine the rush there'll be when London's party animals get wind of this latest upselling wheeze.
2) Europe for less
Eurostar are offering 25% off fares between late November and mid-March in a Flash Sale that ends at 11pm tonight. I was considering a day trip to Rotterdam for my birthday, but I checked and it turns out Monday is the day all the museums are closed.
3) London's next dead bus
TfL have released the results of a consultation they launched in July, and will indeed withdraw route 283 and reroute the 72. This is despite 79% of respondents saying the change would have a negative effect on their journeys. In effect they're withdrawing route 72 and renumbering the 283 because all this is smoke and mirrors. The switcheroo will take place on 13th December. If you want to go for a final journey before then, it's up to you whether to pick the 72 (the next dead route) or 283 (the next dead number).
4) TfL25 Prize Draw
Fancy a raffle prize for zero effort? TfL are running a special anniversary draw for 28 different gift experiences, from Royal Opera House tickets to a trip up the Battersea Power Station chimney. I suspect the Hidden London tours of Green Park will be quite popular, and the Cheeky Elf Cake baking experience in Haggerston rather less so. Don't fret over answering "What do you love about London during the festive period?" because all prizes will be selected purely at random. You have until 7th December to apply and nothing to lose by having a go.
5) Here comes Great British Railways
Yesterday the government published its Railways Bill, the major legislation that ensures "The Secretary of State may by regulations designate a body corporate as Great British Railways." A lot of it is about how to liaise lawfully with the authorities in Wales and Scotland so not intrinsically informative. One thing we do know is that "passengers will ultimately be able to purchase tickets through a new GBR website and app, replacing 14 existing operator ticketing platforms" so prepare for big change there.
6) Hitting the cap
I saw this advert on the Overground. I think it's new.
It's to encourage you to take advantage of daily capping because "once you've reached the daily or weekly cap, every journey will be completely free." The key paragraph is this one.
"If you're travelling in Zones 1-2, you'll unlock free travel for the rest of the day once you've made two peak and one off-peak rail or tube journeys."
And I wondered, is that true? I guessed not, because in the smallprint down below it says "Exceptions may apply".
The z1-2 cap is £8.90.
For z1-2 rail journeys, two peaks and an off-peak costs £3.90 + £3.90 + £3.20 = £11.
For z1-2 tube journeys, two peaks and an off-peak costs £3.50 + £3.50 + £2.90 = £9.90.
So it is true, two peaks and an off-peak do trigger the daily cap, and after that everything's free.
BUT if your journey combines tube and rail (e.g Battersea Park to Green Park) you end up on a much more expensive fare scale.
For z1-2 tube AND rail journeys, two peaks and an off-peak costs £5.90 + £5.90 + £5.10 = £16.90.
That's way over the daily cap, which in fact kicked in after the second journey not the third.
Also you might assume TfL's maths applies to a journey solely in zone 2, but it totally doesn't.
For z2 rail journeys, two peaks and an off-peak costs £3.00 + £3.00 + £2.70 = £8.70.
For z2 tube journeys, two peaks and an off-peak costs £2.10 + £2.10 + £2.00 = £6.20.
Neither of these trigger the daily cap.
For z2 rail journeys you need to make a total of four trips and for z2 tube journeys you need to make five.
This is because TfL's caps always assume you've been to zone 1 even if you haven't.
And I mention all this because I don't think many people understand how capping works. They just tap and go and find out later what they paid, which is just how TfL likes it.
Exceptions do indeed apply.
7) Easter closures
If you're planning on travelling over Easter, it pays to plan ahead.
Bakerloo: closed north of Queen's Park District: closed east of Whitechapel Hammersmith & City: closed DLR: closed west of Poplar Lioness: closed
Also don't expect to get the Metropolitan north of Harrow-on-the-Hill over May Day weekend.
45 Squared 39) KELSEY SQUARE, BR3
Borough of Bromley, 30m×10m
There are a lot of Kelseys in Beckenham. There's Kelsey House, the cocktail hotspot underneath the Travelodge. There's Kelsey Dental, the private clinic which sponsors Thornton's Corner. There's Kelsey Park, the lovely landscaped park that follows the River Beck. And halfway down the High Street there's tiny Kelsey Square, leading to Kelsey Lane which once led to the manor of Kelsey. In medieval times the manorial estate stretched from Penge to Shortlands, the first big house being built later although localhistorians can't agree when. The last owners were a banking family, the Hoares, whose baronial-style mansion was accessed down a long drive. They then sold up to a nunnery, the estate got turned over to parkland and housing, and Kelsey Square survives as a kind of heritage entrance funnel.
There are only sevenhouses, originally workers cottages for staff on the estate. They're not big but they are attractive with polychromatic Victorian brickwork, timber porches and teensy steps up to the front door. At least one resident owns a dog and it looks like no more then four of them can own a car. At the end of the square is Kelsey Lodge, a separate and much larger affair built in 1864 to oversee the start of the long drive. That's now a one-way lane bypassed by a later suburban avenue, all brightened by conservation-area-standard standard lamps. A brass plaque embedded in the pavement explains it all, should you ever fancy following the 24-stop Beckenham TownHeritage Trail.
Sorry, I was trying to get a decent photograph from the one good vantage point but I was multiply thwarted by the environment. I'd unintentionally turned up on a day when the low autumn sun aligned perfectly with the gap between the houses so ended up with full-on dazzle. Then, when the few clouds in the sky did blow over, the residents of Beckenham repeatedly conspired to stand in the way. A delivery rider hogged the foreground for at least ten minutes, then a family of seven blocked the pavement outside the cafe, then a long-haired man stopped to check his phone and failed to move until the precise moment the sun came out again. I decided Mr Moped was the least worst option.
Everyone in Beckenham knows the top of Kelsey Square as the clocktower above the barbers. It used to be the town's fire station, hence the gap alongside for an engine. The clock is by Croydon-based Gillett & Johnston, who also made the monster atop Shell Mex House, and their weight for this particular municipal creation runs all the way down into the barber's basement. That'll be Hak's Barbers, a longstanding Cypriot business that's been here since 1997 (which means they weren't here when David Bowie played at the Three Tuns nextdoor). Don't miss the old water pump on the corner, recently restored, whose water used to gush from a spout in the lion's mouth. Small but perfectly formed, just like Kelsey Square itself.
London is a great city.
Here is the news from London.
FLASH BANG!
It is Fireworks Night.
There are no free displays tonight.
If you voted Tory in 2010 this is your fault.
You can look out of your window instead.
Mad men will set off bangers all night.
The sky will flash a lot.
Keep your dogs safe.
SUPER MOON!
The Moon is bigger tonight.
It will shine brighter than ever.
Take lots of photos on your phone.
They will look great.
(None of this is true. But it is still news)
RACHEL PUTS TAX UP!
The Budget is in three weeks.
Rachel says money is tight.
She did not say taxes would go up.
But taxes will go up.
CHRISTMAS LIGHTS!
The stars on Oxford Street are now lit.
The angels on Regent Street will be lit soon.
Covent Garden bells are next week.
You have seen them all before so don't rush.
UP THE ARSE!
Well done the Gunners.
They beat a foreign team three nil.
It's one more clean sheet!
But Spurs scored four.
SIR BECKS!
David Beckham is now a knight.
The King dubbed him.
Arise Sir Becks!
STRIKES OVER!
Tube drivers have a pay deal.
There will be no more strikes.
Not that any more were planned.
Have you ever considered how utterly weird sleep is?
We do it daily, willingly abandoning consciousness because that's how we're hardwired, and enter a restful yet restless world we barely remember. If you ever stop and think about it, sleep is utterly weird.
We spend a significant proportion of our lives out cold, maybe a quarter to a third of our time on Earth. Average life expectancy may be 81 but if you factor out the part we spend asleep it's more like 56. That's a lot of potential experience we're missing out on.
All us mammals do it, from koalas who sleep 22 hours a day to elephants who barely do two. It's a critical part of how biology works. And yet even though humans have mastered all kinds of other conditions we've never found a way to avoid sleep, not long term, because the need for sleep ultimately defeats us.
Sleep is essential for restitution, allowing various biological processes to reset our cells and prepare us for tomorrow. We can't fight it, not forever, and get tetchier the longer we try to stave it off. But if we try to sleep too early we can't nod off because we're not really in control of when we sleep, our bodies are.
Over millennia our bodies have adapted to a circadian rhythm, sleeping at night so we can make best use of daylight hours. These cycles also nudge us to be tired at night and, if undisturbed, wake us at a roughly regular time unaided. We can't fight against it, it's evolution.
Of an evening, every evening, we willingly head for a mattress and lie down until we lose consciousness. It's so weird how we all consent to this, tens of thousands of times, with no idea of what we look like, what we're doing and what's going on around us until we wake up.
We have no direct control over falling asleep, not without pharmaceutical assistance. You can't lie there and flip a switch, it either happens or it doesn't, and the best we can do is create conditions that make dropping off most likely. A restful run-up, a pillow, the lights off, soothing sounds or silence, empty thoughts, whatever, or just general exhaustion in the hope it's tired us out.
You never, ever remember the moment of falling asleep, despite the fact you've done it more times than you've had hot dinners. Sleep is a hole you fall into without ever noticing, or get increasingly frustrated about if it doesn't happen.
Waking up, however, is something we have gained control over. The alarm clock rouses us on cue, which is slightly more reliable than expecting someone else to do it for us. Its existence has also enabled society to impose a working day on its citizens, there no longer being any excuse for not being punctual in the morning.
Dreams are weird, relentlessly so, as is the fact we dream at all. Throughout the night we enter manic visual sequences, often dramatic, invariably improbable, but only remember some of the action if we happen to wake in the middle.
While we're dreaming it's like these events are actually happening to us, be that meeting a long-lost relative or falling off a cliff. The adrenalin rush during the wilder episodes must be insane. If anyone ever invents the technology to download our dreams and replay them to us while we're awake, Hollywood is over.
We organise our lives around a working day that matches daylight hours and a quiet period overnight when the vast majority of the population is asleep. Imagine how different everything would be if the majority of our economic and recreational activity wasn't focused into a smaller proportion of the day.
We sleep most when we're young but neither consistently or reliably, which can make parenting absolute hell. Babies are notorious for not sleeping when you'd like them to, also for screaming loudly when awake, all of which contributes to making parents stressed and seriously sleepless themselves. If infant sleep patterns weren't so fractious, maybe we'd have more children.
We organise our homes around sleep. A special room where we can lose consciousness, often several rooms so nobody gets disturbed. If it weren't for sleep we could all live in smaller houses, costing less and occupying less space, maybe even solve the housing crisis altogether. It really does rule our lives.
We have many weaknesses, our species, but one is that we all need to be unconscious for lengthy intervals. It's driven our need for shelter to make nobody attacks us overnight, protecting us not just from predators but from criminals and miscreants. We all need a lock on the door to make sure nobody intrudes while we can't notice.
We spend a lot of money decorating our bedrooms to make them look nice, then only use them for a narrow proportion of the day and spend most of our time unconscious with the light off. Transatlantic flights are an even bigger waste of money, where the more you spend the easier it is to sleep and miss all the luxurious service you've paid so much for.
The hotel business exists mainly because we have to sleep. When away from home it's important to have somewhere to fall unconscious, ideally in comfort, and then be overcharged for breakfast in the morning. If we didn't need to sleep we could mostly make do with left luggage instead.
Our mealtimes all revolve around the fact we need to sleep and that most of us do that simultaneously. Breakfast kickstarts us, lunch is often the light meal midway between sleeps and dinner is the stodgier one we eat later so we can sleep it off. Hospitality wouldn't work so efficiently if we could all drop in any time.
Someone needs to work overnight, and those who accept the challenge have to fight against their bodies' natural desire to sleep. Shift workers have the toughest of battles, notionally adapting but never quite in sync, and all because sleep punishes those unable to fit the norm.
Every night we go to sleep on the understanding there's a tiny tiny probability we won't wake up. It hasn't happened yet or you wouldn't be reading this but it always could. Some say it's the best way to go but who's to say, given that nobody can come back and tell us what it's like. Sleep may one day claim us but we still sleep anyway, we've no choice.
Sleep shapes our lives, forces us to comply, creates the maddest nightmares and makes us ignorant of a third of our existence. Sleep delights some and is feared by others, especially by those who regularly fail to achieve it. Sleep is a horizon we cross daily, a state of mind, a necessity, an escape.
But mainly sleep is utterly weird, and we hardly ever consider how utterly weird it is.
Watford tube station was 100 years old yesterday. There were celebrations.
Not Watford Junction which opened in 1837 (and on its current site in 1858). Not Watford High Street on the Overground which opened in 1862. Not Watford North on the St Albans line which opened in 1910. Not Watford West or Watford Stadium Halt on the Croxley Green branch which last saw a train in 1996. Not Watford Vicarage Road station which was never built. I refer instead to Watford tube station which opened on Monday 2nd November 1925, and is just one of the many stations in the Watford area that never met its full potential.
The Metropolitan Railway's branch line proved expensive to build, not least because of the unavoidable contours hereabouts. A lofty crossing of the Gade valley was required, this despite Croxley station half a mile away being in a cutting. The viaduct runs first above the Grand Union Canal - this span since replaced in metal - and then on brick arches to the River Gade. From a train window there's briefly a great view across the canal basin at Two Bridges before the tracks land on a sturdy embankment, which gradually reduces in height until the platforms at Watford end below street level. This is not how the tube extension was supposed to terminate.
Watfordstation is another from the architectural playbook of Charles Clark, and like Croxley has an Arts and Crafts-influenced vernacular. The roof is tall, broad and tiled, with three gabled dormers and thin brick chimneystacks rising all around. A bold blue canopy protrudes in front of the main entrance to announce the station's name, again just as at Croxley. This time there are two retail units, both tiny, the cafe on the right still with an original shopfront. The shop on the left is externally shabbier, and may still be called News Box but newspapers haven't been part of its main offering for a while. And behind that is a teensy office for A1 Taxis, ideally located because the vast majority of the population of Watford live nowhere near the station so an additional ride is very welcome.
The main problem for railway companies attempting to pass through Watford had been the Earls of Essex whose estate at Cassiobury House covered most of the land northwest of the town. A century earlier they'd complained about the "iron horse" invading their property and forced the London and Birmingham Railway to bend to the east to avoid the estate. Now they were refusing direct access to the Metropolitan Railway in its attempts to reach Watford town centre, a situation which eased slightly in 1909 when the 7th Earl sold off some of his land for housing and a wedge of parkland. But the new line could go no further than a dell round the back of Watford Boys Grammar School, prohibited from continuing on a viaduct across the delights of Cassiobury Park. Generations of schoolboys have benefited from that decision, but objectively things would've been much better if the Met had ever reached the High Street.
Passengers who did make it to the outcast station on Cassiobury Park Avenue found themselves entering a spacious ticket hall, noticeably taller and wider than at Croxley. It was once worthy of two ticket windows, now there are two ticket machines and a cosy back office. It once had a telephone kiosk in a recess, now it has a cash dispenser. It still has a hardwood door to the ladies toilets, these apparently retaining the original cubicles and wood-block floor although obviously I haven't confirmed that. In a bold move the paddles on the gateline are currently sponsored by Harrow College ('only a 19 minute tube ride away'). The door to Station Approach is now firmly locked but the passageway does have an Oyster pad should it ever need to be opened.
The finest feature at Watford station may well be the mauve and sea-green tiling. These were the Metropolitan Railway's corporate colours at the time and they radiate around the ticket hall but more particularly down the stairs. A gorgeous gridded design flanks you on the descent, the tones luxuriously muted with craftsmanship worthy of a stately mansion's wet room. There are a lot of steps, and from what I saw yesterday these are still proving tough for those with walking sticks or pushchairs. Watford isn't even on the long-list for step-free access, it being expensive to force a lift into a split-level Grade II listed building, although I think I can see where you might otherwise shoehorn a shaft.
Watford has a broad islandplatform, generally with only one occupied so it's easy to deduce which side the next train will be leaving. A large W-shaped canopy helps keep the doors to three carriages dry, and could potentially shield four were the buffers not quite so far away from the station building. All the supports are attractively painted in what's now Metropolitan purple. There's no real need to use the far end of the platform, that is unless you've arrived on an incoming train and been careless enough to sit at the rear. The waiting room is similarly superfluous, it generally being much easier to wait on a train, but is delightfully basic with a herringbone floor and two long built-in benches. The gents is just round the back, and this time I can confirm a level of historic originality.
Yesterday's celebrations focused on the waiting room where folk from Watford Museum had set up a small display, mainly because there wasn't room for a big one. They focused on the arrival of Metro-land in the town illustrated with several evocative photographs, then squeezed in a table at the rear where younger visitors could be crafty with relevant postcards. Upstairs the London Transport Museum had pasted several of their archive images down a side corridor like a little gallery, one of which made me go "Oh I remember that sign" and another "oh I've got that timetable". But the main centenary action was a free guided tour led by one of the team's more colourful characters, leading folk round the open parts of a station in a way I entirely predicted back in 2011.
Had all gone to plan Watford station would have closed to passenger traffic a few years ago when the Metropolitanlineextension to Watford Junction opened. But Boris's boondoggle project floundered after he left the Mayoralty, and all that remains today is an landmark block of flats beside an unbuilt tube station at Cassiobridge and an empty corridor across Watford's new Health Campus. The first attempt to extend the line came in 1927 when the Metropolitan Railway purchased the The Empress Winter Gardens and Tea Lounge on Watford High Street with the intention of creating a better-frequented terminus. But tunnelling under Cassiobury Park or the WBGS playing fields proved entirely impractical, plans stalled and a shuttle bus connecting the station to the shops had to suffice instead.
The site of what might have been Watford Central station is now a Wetherspoons where you can buy a pint of Ruddles for less than a single fare to Croxley, and all dreams of extending the line are now practically dead. It's a shame because it took me 20 minutes to walk from where the terminus should have been to where it actually is, but also a joy because it means a brilliant station building has just celebrated its centenary. Happy 100th birthday to Watford and Croxley, on the branch line that was never as useful as originally intended but totally changed my life.
Hurrah, my local tube station is 100 years old today.
Croxley Green station opened to the public on Monday 2nd November 1925, linking my home village to the Metropolitan Railway and kickstarting substantial suburban development. Watford station also opened as the terminus of a short spur line and that's where TfL have chosen to celebrate the big birthday, complete with fully-booked tours and a museum display in the waiting room. My job today is thus to celebrate Croxley station instead, the rustic halt with the heritage lamps, which I was fortunate enough to have at the bottom of my road while I was growing up.
Royal assent for the new line was granted in 1912 but the First World War intervened and it took until 1923 for the go-ahead to be given. The branch line would bear off the existing railway near Croxley Hall Farm and run in a deep cutting through Croxleyhall Woods, with a separate curve dug to provide access from Rickmansworth as well as London. Carving through so much chalk proved difficult and expensive, with the £387,000 costs shared between the Metropolitan Railway and LNER who funded the line as a joint project. The railway despoiled the woods dividing them into several segments, but as a child I never minded because a woodland walk thus offered the opportunity to stand on the blue bridge overlooking the junction and watchtrains rattling round the curve, ideally more than once.
Even more woodland was almost lost in 2004 when evil infraco Metronet applied to insert a large track maintenance depot between the railway and the canal. The land had originally been gravel workings associated with the railway, hence TfL technically had rights over some of the land. Local residents formed a campaign group called Keep Croxley Green and adopted the unusual tactic of attempting to declare Long Valley Wood as a "village green" by dint of it being used for "lawful sports and pastimes, as of right, for not less than 20 years". The subsequent red tape disrupted timelines sufficiently for TfL to withdraw their plans and look elsewhere, and Herts County Council officially approved the application on 11th September 2007 which means they won't be coming back. The woods still look lovely, especially at the height of autumn.
Croxley station was built on a bend in Watford Road, then just a lane, close to the Red House pub at the bottom of New Road. Six cottages had to be demolished to make way, replaced just down the road and built of new-fangled concrete. The station instead got a cosy domestic vibe courtesy of Charles Clark, chief architect of the Metropolitan Railway, who delivered 25 stations in total including Farringdon, Northwood Hills and Kingsbury. Here he designed what could have been a large house - all the better to inspire later residential sales - with a symmetrical multi-gabled roof and four tall chimney stacks. The dormer windows mark an early example of over-station development. The small shop unit on the right no longer sells sweets and newspapers but is used as a cab office.
Stepping inside the building was always exciting because it usually meant a trip up to London. I remember a board to the left of the ticket office window with all the last train times attached as plastic numbers, all arriving long after I'd have gone to bed. The sale of tickets was restricted to a machine in 2007 and since then the office behind has been an over-sized hideaway out of which any members of staff rarely venture. At least the gateline was shut on my latest visit rather than gaping open, suggesting someone really was in there. On the opposite wall is the door to the ladies toilets and also access to the car park, of which more in a minute. What there isn't is a next train departure board, most likely because the signalling's so old hat out here that it couldn't display any useful London-bound information anyway.
The nicest stairs are those down to the 'just Watford' platform, these broad and still with an original handrail down the middle. TfL know it's not worth advertising here so all the poster frames are filled with artworks celebrating the 100th anniversary of the roundel in 2008. Even more neglected is the panel at the top of the stairs remembering 'Steam on the Met '98', its photos faded and mostly unstuck, thus tumbled down skew-whiff behind grubby glass. The other stairs are unpostered and narrower, this because one strip was sectioned off in the 1970s to create an access route from the car park. Those who park here have to troop all the way up to the ticket hall, pass through the gateline and then all the way back down to the platform barely two steps from where they started. TfL could easily add step-free access here simply by removing the screen, but the opposite platform's wedged against an embankment so would be much harder to facilitate.
Only the near end of each platform has a canopy and also a waiting room, one of these still with the remains of a fireplace in the corner. The London-bound hideaway is much better used than the tumbleweed Watford-bound alternative. Best of all there's a gents toilet on each platform, functional but not unpleasant, to balance out the single ladies toilet upstairs in the ticket hall. Croxley is the only station on the Metropolitan line to have two gents toilets, indeed the only other double-gents on the network are at Snaresbrook and Woodford. Supposedly the facilities here are only open 05:30-10:00 and 15:30-19:30 (weekdays only) due to anti-social behaviour and vandalism, though I visited out of hours and they were unlocked. As a reminder of a long-gone era when the Underground designed stations for passengers' benefit rather than budgetary bottom lines, they bring welcome relief.
The far end of each platform has possibly the station's finest feature, the line of heritage lampposts stretching off into the distance. They're illuminated by something a bit more energy-friendly these days but still splendid, especially since being given a fresh paint job earlier in the summer. Intermingled are the cameras and loudspeakers added in the 2000s, thankfully not as intrusively as at many other stations, perhaps because Metronet learned their lesson elsewhere. Autumn is not the season to judge the planters on the down platform so I won't. I will however note that a lot of flats could be built in the adjacent car park, which itself replaced a goods yard, should TfL ever fancy making money at the expense of the 95 commuters who'd be permanently kicked out.
The first train actually pulled into these platforms at 12.18pm on Saturday 31st October 1925, drawn by electric locomotive Sarah Siddons. Aboard the Rothschild Saloon were Lord Aberconway (Chairman of the Metropolitan) and Lord Faringdon (Deputy Chairman of LNER) who were here to perform the official opening. Passenger services began on 2nd November, the centenary we celebrate today, with Met trains to Baker Street interspersed with LNER services to Marylebone. The latter didn't survive past the General Strike in 1926, but you can still get up to town in under 45 minutes on the Met and many's the time I have. As for the name of the station it proved confusing having two Croxley Green stations in the same village so this one became plain Croxley in 1949, and has easily outlived the other.
All the fuss may be at Watford today but don't forget lovely old Croxley, because the entire line is now a centenarian, not just its stunted terminus.
The Index of Multiple Deprivation is a government statistic calculated by the Office of National Statistics every five years or so, and 2025's data has just been released.
The whole of England is divided up into 33755 areas, each containing about 1500 residents. Each area is given a deprivation score based on factors including income, employment, health, education and crime. All 33755 areas are then ranked. Jaywick in Essex comes out top because it's the most deprived area in the country, and Harpenden in Herts comes bottom. That ordered list is then divided into 10 equal groups (or deciles), each containing about 3375 areas. 1 is the most deprived decile and 10 is the least. Not everyone who lives in decile 1 is poor, and not everyone who lives in decile 10 is rich, but that's how their area averages out. You can check the deprivation where you live in this BBC news article, and gov.uk has a drillable map here.
Here's a map of Tower Hamlets with areas coloured according to decile. The dark red areas like Bromley-by-Bow, Poplar and Shadwell are the most deprived (1), and the dark blue area in Wapping is the least deprived (10). The borough is very mixed, with much urban poverty but also some riverside affluence.
Across England there are an equal number of 1s, 2s, 3s, 4s, 5s, 6s, 7s, 8s, 9s and 10s, because that's how deciles work.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
10%
10%
10%
10%
10%
10%
10%
10%
10%
10%
But across London the spread is somewhat different.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
4%
14%
17%
14%
12%
9%
9%
8%
7%
6%
Deciles 6 and 7 occur in proportions very close to the national average. But London has more 2s, 3s and 4s than expected (that's the not-particularly well off). It also has fewer 9s and 10s and a lot fewer 1s (because the extremes aren't as abundant).
I did a full borough breakdown last time such figures were published in 2019 so won't drill down again. This time I thought I'd try something different and identify London's most deprived and least deprived areas, then visit both.
I'm not sure where I was expecting to end up. Maybe Newham or Barking for the most deprived and Kensington or Richmond for the least. Instead I ended up in two seemingly unremarkable neighbourhoods in northwest London, seven miles apart, which you won't be expecting either.
The most deprived area in London: Brent 021B (nationally 238th out of 33755)
Shuffle all of London's 4994 Lower Layer Super Output Areas into order and the most deprived is in Neasden, just off the North Circular. The irregular wedge includes Brent Park Tesco and also IKEA, which may have multiple bedrooms but nobody lives in them so they don't count. Instead the data refers to a chain of disjoint streets beside the Dudding Hill freight line, a true mix of housing styles from Victorian terraces to postwar infill. It doesn't help that one end merges into a scrappy trading estate, nor that London's second largest power station looms over the other.
This is Taylors Lane Power Station, a gas powered hulk with two tall concrete chimneys, built to replace a coal-fired belcher which helps explain the shabby workers terraces opposite. They're by no means the worst London has to offer, just poorly sited, some stoneclad and some pebbledashed with just enough room out front for a couple of bins. At the end of of the road is Energen Close, built on the site of the famous bread roll factory, also the location of a nasty shooting in 2020. Bridge Road has bigger gardens and street trees, also a rebuilt primary school, but also haunted-looking passers-by in shabby anoraks. And beyond that is Woodhayes Road, a wall of scrappy two-up two-downs which backs onto a canal feeder, as shown here complete with rotting discarded mattress.
I've seen worse, I thought, as I squeezed past a Lime bike and weaved through an alleyway between two sets of allotments. On the far side was Yeats Close, a Beckton-ish backwater of 1980s townhouses, all of a decent size and with parking for Audis, Qashqais and BMWs as well as other lesser vehicles. The Hallowe'en decorations, where families had bothered, were well up to standard. Only round the last bend did the white van count suddenly increase to epidemic proportions, all unbranded, also trucks overflowing with trash and a couple of discarded fridges.
And here we find the Lynton Close Traveller site, opened in 1996 with 31 caravan pitches but currently with 74 crammed in, which Brent council recently decreed a fire risk so threatened widespread eviction. They've since withdrawn that threat, having decided that adding fire alarms would help, but far more families live here than was ever intended. I doubt the Travellers consider themselves deprived but the underlying statistics have a different view, and I suspect this is why an otherwise merely-lowly patch of Neasden finds itself London's sole representative on a list of England's 1%-most-deprived.
The least deprived area in London: Harrow 004D (nationally 33700th out of 33755)
Nowhere in the supposedly posh parts of inner London registers in the upper echelon of the 10s. The runners up in the spreadsheet are all in quietly genteel parts of outer London, for example Upminster, Eastcote, Hayes or Coombe. But by this measure the least deprived neighbourhood in the whole of the capital is, unexpectedly, a cluster of streets to the north of the shops in Hatch End. The only reason you'd have been here, unless it's home, is that the walking route from the London Loop to Hatch End station passes down Grimsdyke Avenue.
These are characterful 1930s houses, not Metro-land style because we're on the wrong line but big and bricky with rustic gables. Garages are built in, Volvos are parked outside anyway, and along the avenue pine cones drop abundantly onto broad verges. But these are still technically semis, even if neighbours are a good distance apart, and I didn't see a single Waitrose vehicle only Tesco. Also being un-deprived doesn't mean no problems, as I noted when a man in a white protective suit emerged from building works at a house on Hallam Gardens and entered the back of an asbestos removal trailer. If this is truly London's best-off area, where are all the detacheds?
They were a bit further back on streets not added until the 1960s, where large townhouses have broader frontage and less shrubbery. The sparsest are on Scot Grove, a loopy cul-de-sac with a central lawn I wanted to cut across but was warned off by a snobby sign saying 'Private Green, Please Keep To The Road'. I walked around for almost half an hour impressed by the unbroken niceness of it all but still unconvinced that Harrow 004D deserved its abundant crown. Again it must be down to the arbitrary borders of the statistical unit, also the fact that the Index of Multiple Deprivation isn't all about wealth and status. The least deprived areas aren't necessarily where you'd think they are, they're cosy suburban avenues rather than posh gated boltholes.
Wed 1: I finally saw my first 75 registration plate today on a blue Ford van. I could have seen one a month ago. Thu 2: Back to the opticians for the first time in a while. The "I just need to squirt this air in your eye" gizmo still makes me wince, which only makes the experience longer and worse. Fri 3: I returned to Feltham to see the Freddie Mercury memorial, a respectful star in the paving of a fledgling garden, and can confirm it's nice but not worth making any kind of special effort to see. Sat 4: Bus Stop M was closed this morning for tree-cutting in the churchyard opposite, which enabled me to snap this iconic photo.
Sun 5: It was a joy to watch a new episode of Challenge Anneka tonight, mysteriously left over from three years ago, in which Luton's Sea Scouts gained new lakeside facilities. Channel 5 don't intend to make any more, sadly, but it was a lovely nugget of the early 1990s while it lasted. Mon 6: You can tell it's autumn again when Cup A Soup goes back on special offer. It's been full price since the spring, but now it should stay '3 for £4' until March. Tue 7: In Whitechapel's library I found a (staffed) DLR information table, which felt odd for a Tuesday morning. I turned down the offer of a wordsearch and a pen, but did avail myself of a 32 page full colour station history booklet. Wow this is good for a cash-strapped organisation, I thought, until I spotted the booklet was 16 years old (no Stratford International branch) and they must have printed far too many of them. Wed 8: At World of Glass in St Helens they had a box of poppies on the main desk, five weeks before the big day, and that's the earliest I've ever seen someone buy one. Thu 9: We still haven't heard from a blog reader in Rutland, so I officially declare no, I don't have readers in every ceremonial county in England.
Fri 10: Spotted Fanny the station cat at Gipsy Hill station, padding past the planters, which was fortunate because she's 14½ now and doesn't get out so much. You might like to know that 2026's Fanny The Cat calendar is now available, priced £20 for delivery or £15 if you can pick it up at the local pub. Sat 11: While at Osterley House I had a go at the start of the seasonal Ghost Hunt in the gardens. I spun the wheel to discover my bunny name was 'Twinkle', then failed at Hallowe'en hoopla, but decided to skip the broomstick race and warty toads in favour of more adult pursuits like admiring the flowers in the orchard. Sun 12: To the man on Ilford Lane who walked over and said "I know you don't I?", and when pushed claimed we'd drunk together in Barking Wetherspoons, I can confirm I've never been inside, nor do I intend to (assuming it ever reopens). Mon 13: The Rail Delivery Group has launched its annual World Cup of Stations, again with a specious theme, this time "the most life-changing station of the last 200 years". Options were restricted to a list of 20, each with its own rationale you were supposed to read before you voted. I doubt many did. After a few hours the top two stations had over 50% of the vote, suggesting people weren't scrolling down the list to the other 18 (or hadn't noticed you could). For a while a Welsh station at which two people got married was in the lead, mainly because it began with A. In the end the winner was Ashington, a Northumberland station which reopened last year, so a charming story but by no means "the most life-changing station of the last 200 years". Do something sensible next year guys.
Tue 14: The ramp below the View Tube is being replaced by something less steep but longer, and I am so going to moan about this when they've finished. Wed 15: The most disappointing drink I had in the pub tonight was a fruity cider, this because it swiftly became a diluted fruity cider when the ice melted. Thu 16: My home insurers offered a nice low quote this year, then slapped on a 94% commission charge. As ever, being politely stroppy over the phone got the price down. Fri 17: I know we haven't seen each for ten years but you can't come up to London and suggest lunch if I'm going to be in Norfolk at the time, sorry. Sat 18: It's 60 years today since the first broadcast of The Magic Roundabout, so praise to BBC4 for showing an episode, also a splendid documentary from the archives (which was the length of 12 episodes).
Sun 19: Looking through the family photo albums in the top of the wardrobe I discovered a birthday card my mum received when she was three (just before WW2) and a birthday card my grandmother received when she was 18 (just after WW1). There are far more photos from my mum's side of the family than my dad's. Mon 20: For my dad's birthday lunch we went to the best restaurant in town, which is of course on the first floor of a furniture warehouse on a trading estate. Only one of us ordered chocolate cake but the slice was so huge we all ended up having some. Tue 21: Hurrah, it's the time of year home-grown brussels sprouts return to the supermarket. Shame they'd also sold out of mince pies. Wed 22: On today's BBC 1 o'clock news the regional insert included a two minute item on a lady fined for throwing coffee down a drain in Richmond. Ten minutes later the entire report was repeated within the national news, and it felt desperately unprofessional. Thu 23: Watched Hollyoaks' 30th anniversary week in which (spoilers) a gunshot caused a light plane to crash onto a wedding where Peri got crushed to death by a toppled funnel. The Brookside crossover episode was no less far-fetched (taxi for Mr Redmond!) but still a nostalgic treat.
Fri 24: After an entire month hovering round the 18°C mark, the "temperature in my living room first thing in the morning" has abruptly plummeted below 16°C. Sat 25: If you're the bird who pooed on the handrail at Barnes station, I curse you for the horrific discovery down the road when I suddenly realised what the creamy feeling on my fingers actually was. Sun 26: We'd normally be deep into the annual Brain of Britain tournament on Radio 4 by now but it hasn't materialised in the 'quiz' slot, which is being occupied by obvious filler. I checked, and it seems Paul Bajoria and Stephen Garner (who are responsible for Counterpoint, Brain of Britain and Round Britain Quiz) recently left the BBC and nobody's managed to organise a new series in their absence. Mon 27: The Met Office is rolling out a new design for its online weather forecasts, alas showing considerably less data on screen in favour of empty space and less clarity. Previously you could see a summary of the next 18 hours in one go, now it's seven. It's fundamentally far less useful, potentially forever, and the designers should be harangued until they agree to reverse this digital wreckage.
Tue 28: I was sorry to hear that lovely Prunella Scales had died, and surprised that the episode of Fawlty Towers they chose to show in tribute was one she wasn't in very much. Wed 29: If every politician who'd ever done anything bad, ill-judged or technically illegal was banned from office, we wouldn't have any politicians left. You'd never be able to become one, and neither would anyone else. Thu 30: Places visited in yesterday's post "100 things I saw while out and about yesterday" included Stratford, Woodford, Walthamstow, Meridian Water, Tottenham and Abbey Wood. Fri 31: BT have submitted plans to install a Smart Hub at the end of Bow Road on the pavement by the McDonalds car park. Two sacrificial kiosks would be removed ("a net decrease in street furniture"). It'd be beside a bike rack so wouldn't block the pavement. It is however optimised to show adverts to traffic on the approach to the Bow Roundabout, a complex junction where cyclists have been killed. I thus take issue with BT's claim that "the geometry of the roads are not complicated and the driving conditions are not considered to be demanding or complicated", and hopefully that'll be enough to get plans scrapped.
