38, de-bendied Boris's election pledge to remove the bendy bus from London's streets took a major step forward yesterday with the reintroduction of 'normal' double deckers on route 38. Major improvement to services, or total waste of money? I took a ride to investigate further.
At Clapton Pond, a man with a brush is busy sweeping leaves and rainwater into the gutter. Hopping aboard a dry double decker feels like a very good idea, and there should be a 38 along soon now that its frequency of service has been increased. The Saturday timetable at the bus stop promises "every 3-6 minutes", but it's been 8. Several buses have passed in the opposite direction, imminently terminating at the bendy-sized bus stand in the middle of the Clapton roundabout. But it takes a while for a Victoria-bound 38 to appear, with entrance today via a single door, and we all bundle inside.
The top deck smells artificially (and not pleasantly) new, but that'll pass once the floor's seen its first week of chip wrappers, spilt drinks and kebabs. There are no adverts above the windows, nor indeed yet on the outside of the vehicle. No disembodied voice yet screeches "38 to Victoria" every couple of minutes - the front-mounted electronic gubbins isn't switched on yet. And, most deliciously of all, there are actually seats! 70-odd on board each double decker as opposed to 50-ish on the old bendies, so there's far less likelihood of having to stand. Given how long my backside is going to be plonked atop the blue moquette, that's just as well.
We skim through rainswept Clapton. Our driver parks (slowly) in a large puddle outside Hackney Baths, avoiding a watery fate for those waiting alongside. Up on the bus stop a yellow square still reads "38 Buy tickets before boarding", although the 38s elsewhere have been replaced, gleaming on each sign like a freshly-polished tooth. The on-street ticket machines are going too, beheaded and covered over by fluorescent protective covers. Hackney's winding Narroway is noticeably easier to negotiate in a double decker than a bendy, as are several other of the sharper bends along the route. Umpteen shoppers pile aboard downstairs, although the top deck won't be full for several stops yet.
A lengthy detour through Dalston is necessary to avoid Overground-induced roadworks. By the time we reach the Balls Pond Road, half of the timetabled 44 minutes for the entire route have already elapsed. The back seat is claimed by what looks like a stereotypical group of boisterous teens, although they keep their voices down and fail to turn up their mobile R&B to maximum volume. Meanwhile an unfortunate pushchair user fails to squeeze aboard downstairs - there's far less buggy space aboard these DB300s than was the case on the former Citaros.
The Essex Road is perfect for people watching, increasingly middle class as Islington Green approaches. We top-deckers also get to look down our noses at fellow travellers still unfortunate enough to be riding bendy aboard a 73. Never mind, their day will come. Then, at Angel, a surprise. A semi-uniformed official strides up our stairs, waves his 'official' metal badge and demands to see our "tickets and passes". This would have made sense the day before, with unchecked entry a faredodgers delight, but today we've all had to touch in as we boarded. There are muted sighs as we reach for our Oysters and everybody aboard gets the (predictable) green light.
A stormy Saturday is keeping many Londoners indoors, but we're protected from the whirling leaves behind the rain-splattered front window. It's plain sailing down half-empty Roseberry Avenue, but then the Lord Mayor intervenes. His parade may be a mile away but the backed up traffic is clogging Kingsway, which is clogging High Holborn, which is clogging Theobald's Road. A new bus lane ought to speed us through to the next lights, but we're unable to reach it across a stream of selfishly immobile car drivers. The bus edges forward, rather too slowly, and the lady sat beside me with a dripping umbrella audibly tuts.
By the time we divert off down Shaftesbury Avenue my bus journey is a full hour old, with yet another half hour still to go. A one-legged wino in a wheelchair decides at the last minute not to try to scoot on board, much to the relief of the driver, but we do gain an even more unlikely passenger. It's another official walking up the stairs to check our "tickets and passes", to the incredulity of everyone who's been on board since Islington. When questioned, he explains that there are 50(!) inspectors riding the 38 today because it's the first day of the new double decker service and they're trying to get a message across. Yeah right. Yet nobody aboard this bus has been caught out, twice, so surely their time would have been better spent catching chancers on London's remaining bendies.
Nearly there. Piccadilly Circus requires a five minute detour because a brand new road improvement scheme isn't quite ready yet. The removal of certain one-way restrictions means that future 38s will be able to sail past Eros rather more directly, and then they'll enter a new two-way bus lane in Piccadilly (with bus stops planted on a narrow island in the centre of the road). We follow a Routemaster plying route 9 - a reminder of the rather more characterful doubledeckers that used to service the 38 in the pre-bendy era. Alas all we've gained in the last four years appears to be a bigger front window and a rear platform you can't escape from at whim.
On past Green Park, where a fallen plane tree has been encircled by red and white tape, and then the opportunity to peer over the Queen's back wall and eye up her tennis courts. You didn't get that view from a bendy. And, having ridden all the way to Victoria on the first day of both the new and the old services, I know which I prefer. Give me a 'normal' double decker any day. A seat, a view, and that special feeling of not being treated like cattle prodded aboard a box on wheels. Whether the expense of swapping 47 bendies for 68 doubledeckers is a good use of TfL's money is highly questionable. But, now that the exchange has occurred, I suspect the fare-paying residents of Hackney will be well pleased.
There's been a tangible pro-military shift in public opinion of late. The army is no longer full of soldiers, but of heroes. A poppy is no longer an expression of individual conscience, but a nationwide expectation. No civilian is afforded greater importance than a bereaved parent. And woe betide anyone who causes "offence" by failing to display respectful behaviour towards Our Lads, because that's the media's new expected norm. As pride replaces honour, it's almost as if Army Worship has replaced Christianity as our new national religion.
I'd prefer to reflect on the futility of war, not revel in its glorification. I'd prefer to decide for myself how I remember the dead, rather than being coerced into obligatory public display. I'd prefer a single tribute to the casualties of war each Remembrancetide, rather than three weeks of build-up culminating in two separatesilences. I'd prefer to commemorate long-fallen veterans rather than prioritising desert-booted teenagers. I'd prefer to watch the news without being exposed to lengthy over-reverential reviews of some passing cortège. And I'd prefer to see tolerance from politicians and the press, rather than shame and vilification every time someunfortunatesoul fails to demonstrate sufficient military deference.
I'd prefer to go back to how things used to be - respect for our Armed Forces rather then reverence, and gratitude rather than fawning. But I fear that by the time the next Remembrance Sunday comes around, exactly one year from today, this jingoistic Army Worship will be even more entrenched. At ease.
And so ends diamond geezer's seventh annual tube week. I continue to be amazed by how much interactive interest the London Underground inspires, even amongst people who rarely or never use it, so thanks for all your comments. And I'm also surprised, every year, that I don't run out of new tube-related stuff to write about. I mean, seven years on and I still haven't written a tube week post about disusedstations. Maybe next year...
Tubewatch (30)Extended Circle I've been discussing the possibility (and geometric ludicrousness) of an extended Circle line on this blog since 2004. But in exactly one month's time, it actually happens. The Circle will be broken at Edgware Road and trains will trundle on to Hammersmith.
Here's the official poster already appearing at tube stations. Let's check out its claims.... • A more reliable service The Circle line's often unreliable because delayed trains stay delayed as they keep going round and round. But as of December 13th, once these trains have somewhere to terminate, the timetable ought to get a chance to catch up. That's the theory anyway, we'll see if it works. • Fewer delays Erm, that's exactly the same as the last claim, isn't it? • More trains to Hammersmith Absolutely right, and the main benefit of the entire change. The Hammersmith branch currently sees seven trains an hour. Next month it'll be twelve trains an hour - half of them on the Circle and half on the Hammersmith & City. Big win, surely?
But here's the flipside of the argument - three more claims that TfL probably don't want to publicise... • Less frequent Circle line trains Yes, sorry. At the moment seven Circle line services are scheduled every hour, but in future there'll only be six. Trying to get round from Gloucester Road to High St Ken, or from Liverpool Street to Tower Hill? Expect to wait up to ten minutes in the future, not the present eight and a half. A not-very-frequent service just got worse. • Less frequent Hammersmith & City line trains Same here. No problems west of Liverpool Street, but trains will only head round the curve to Aldgate East every ten minutes. Expect an even longer wait. • Potential passenger chaos at Edgware Road A 'broken' Circle means that everybody travelling between Bayswater and Baker Street will need to change trains at Edgware Road. Travel east and there's a 50/50 chance you'll arrive on the 'other' platform. Travel west and there's a 50/50 chance the next train to depart will be from the 'other' platform. In either case you'll need to cross the footbridge, so long as you realise, which is a sure-fire recipe to confuse tourists and even regular travellers. I've seen the system in action, remember, so I'll be giving Edgware Road a wide berth in the future. I suspect you will too.
Tube geek (30)Interchange TfL define a interchange as "a transport hub where two or more different modes of transport meet". Tube interchange stations, therefore ought to be easy to spot, particularly as they're labelled on the tube map with a black circle. But just how far apart are two stations, or bits of stations, allowed to be before we shouldn't call them an interchange any more?
Case in point. This is a section of the latest tube map showing four different central London interchange stations. Baker Street is a well-known five-line intersection, while Marylebone is an interchange to National Rail services. But the other two stations depicted here look rather different to their incarnation on the previous tube map. Paddington used to be shown as two distinct stations, with the Hammersmith & City out on a limb, but now it's only one. The H&C station remains a long (and awkward, and congested) walk from the rest, along the edge of mainline Platform 8 and up some not-really wide enough stairs. But now, to the uninitiated at least, it appears on the map like a simple and straight-forward interchange. You know, and I know, that only an idiot would change between the H&C and District lines here. But I bet that many tourists have acted like idiots at Paddington since this new map was released.
More to the point, Edgware Road. On the last tube map two quite distinct stations were depicted, one for the Bakerloo and the other for the Circle/District/H&C. No indication was given that changing to or from the Bakerloo line was possible, let alone a good idea. And now the whole thing - two stations on either side of a busy flyover - is marked as a single point of interchange. Sure you could change here, if you like a trip in a lift and a long yomp across dual carriageway sliproads. But there's no logical reason why anybody should, not when swapping at Baker Street or even Paddington is so much easier.
I had a go from Edgware Road (Circle/District/H&C) to Edgware Road (Bakerloo). There's a potentially helpful sign above the former station's exit, telling interchangers to start by finding a set of traffic lights. That's easier said than done. The aforementioned traffic lights are the wrong end of a one-way street, so not one single red amber or green light points back up the road towards the station. Only if you spot the illuminated pedestrian signals will you be certain which way to go. Turn right at M&S, past a not terribly beautiful Hilton, and thence to the MaryleboneFlyover. There are pedestrian crossings now, but the only way to cross used to be via an other-worldlysubway. It's very empty down here today - just a rather lonely-looking newsagents kiosk, a wholly unlikely art gallery and signs still pointing towards the "Metropolitan line". Negotiating all that lot, either above or below ground, takes at least two minutes from station to station. No fun with luggage, or a pushchair, or in pouring rain. The Bakerloo line station's gorgeous, especially the ticket hall with its green-glazed ticketwindows. But with a judderingly slow lift journey still to go, this is a cross-London trek you're far better off not making.
So please beware of the new tube map. Although every interchange shown is possible, this certainly doesn't mean that every interchange is wise. The linked blobs at Edgware Road are a deceit, not an aid to travel, however tempting they may appear. Do try hard never to change trains here.
Tube quiz (30)t-shirts If you're looking for a Christmas present idea for the tubegeek in your life, and don't mind forking out a lot of money for a bit of white fabric, then you might consider ordering a personalised tube map t-shirt from the London Transport Museum website. Damned clever idea. You move a zoomable square around the tube map until it encloses the area you'd like to select. Then you decide whether you'd prefer a t-shirt, mug or mouse mat, and click 'create product'. The website shows you what it would look like and, should you be smitten, you can then buy it and go walking down the street with half the Victoria line on your chest. I shan't be splashing out myself, but I have had a go at creating something suitably quirky. Here's my Oxford Circus mug, here's my attempt at a more symbolic t-shirt, and here's something rather cleverer (not my idea, I'm afraid).
Tubewatch (29)litter There used to be litter bins on tube stations, as can be deduced by anybody who visits the Bakerloo line platforms at Charing Cross. A rather splendid black and white mural of the Gunpowder Plotters was installed here 30 years ago, slap bang in the middle of which is a slot for the disposal of litter. Or at least there was. It's far too dangerous to permit such a useful facility today lest some evil passenger insert gelignite rather than an empty Ribena carton through the slot. And so the Ugly Squad have come along and bolted a featureless white rectangle over the hole, simultaneously preventing terrorism and wrecking the artwork underneath. This design aberration perfectly sums up the tube's litterbinlessness - "No you can't have a bin, and who cares how much of a mess is created as a result."
I fully understand why it's a bad thing to have hidden black voids at central London tube stations. But surely it must be possible to design and position an underground litter bin so that it doesn't create an unacceptable threat to world security. A few outer London tube stations are permitted dangling transparent plastic bags - could we have a few more of those further in? Or some sort of newspaper recycling slot on trains (OK, not enough room), or on platforms (OK, too much congestion) or in ticket halls (yes please). Meanwhile TfL's "please take your litter home with you" argument is ignored by all and sundry, as the floor of any tube carriage in the early evening will attest. The introduction of bins within, or even immediately outside, tube stations would surely help Londoners to recycle more, and help to keep our tube network tidier. Who could refuse?
Tube geek (29)Installed by cretins Last year I spent an entire week blogging about 'next train' indicators, and how they're installed by cretins in locations where passengers can't actualy read them. After the week was over I enjoyed some lengthy email communications with one of TfL's Press Officers, who empathised with my thoughts and assured me (in some detail) that things were slowly getting better. One particular paragraph in her reply stood out, which was this:
"With regards to the positioning of train indicator boards, ideally there should be one on each platform and it should be positioned so that the information on the display can be read as customers enter the platform and from the middle of the platform. If this cannot be achieved by a single display then an additional one should be fitted where possible. As part of the Tube Investment programme we have endeavoured to install train indicator displays in the best possible positions on the platforms. The layout of many of our stations means it will never be possible for customers to see the train indicator boards from everywhere on the platform and so we stipulate that they can be seen at the entrances to platforms so customers can see what trains are due as soon as they get on to the platform."
Which is an excellent sentiment. It's just a shame it doesn't always happen.
Let me illustrate this with an up-to-the-minute example of 'next train' indicator cretinousness, which is happening as we speak at Mile End station. The platforms at Mile End have been a complete dump for the last couple of years because they were mid-strip-out when Metronet collapsed and the tube upgrade programme ran out of money. Recently, finally, the station's modernisation has kicked off again, which appears to involve the construction of a suspended ceiling across the top of Mile End's cavernous platforms. It's unnervingly low, indeed so low that the ceiling is in some places lower than the top line of the existing 'next train' indicators. Which means that passengers arriving down the stairs onto the westbound Central line platform can no longer see where the next train is heading. The second train's fine, but not the first, because a metal bar at new-ceiling-height now blocks the view [enlarged photo]. Cretins, I tell you, absolute bloody cretins.
Mile End is already seriously sub-optimal for the viewing of 'next train' indicators. Its rows of prettily-tiled pillars don't help, because they tend to block either the left hand end of the board (destination) or the right hand end of the board (minutes). But the real problem has been that there aren't enough 'next train' indicators, and they aren't in the right place. Let me sketch you a pretty diagram of Mile End station to show you what I mean.
Mile End's two eastbound platforms form an island across the top, and its two westbound platforms form an island across the bottom. Trains run along the white strips - the Central line very-top and very-bottom, and the District/H&C through the middle. The stairs down from the ticket hall are at one end of each platform, whereas the exit stairs are located much more centrally. There are four 'Way out' signs, shown in yellow, and six 'next train' boards, shown in blue. The bottom left 'next train' board is one-sided only, facing west. And all the green squares represent pillars (which, for the purposes of what I'm about to explain, are irrelevant).
The blue shaded areas are the sections of each platform from which a 'next train' indicator can be seen. Maybe not easily, and maybe requiring a step to one side and a shuffle, but visible all the same. Good news, that's pretty much the entire length of the westbound District line platform, as well as most of the eastern half of the station (the end furthest away from the station entrance). But there's a long-term problem with the (yellow) 'Way out' signs, because they're positioned right up close to the four 'next train' indicators in the centre of each platform. They have to be there, it's Health and Safety, because everybody needs to know how to get out. But they act as an opaque shield to the destination information immediately behind, which means that the 'next train' can't be viewed from any of the areas I've shaded red. Bloody useless, but nothing new.
What is new are the pink bits. It used to be possible (last month) to view the 'next train' indicator from the pink areas, and now it isn't. This is the fault of those new low ceiling bars, which are extra-low in places and are getting in the way of important customer information. Stand at the far eastern end of either eastbound platform and, especially if you're tall, the 'next train' is no longer visible. More importantly, walk down the steps from the ticket hall onto the westbound Central line platform and the 'next train' is suddenly no longer visible. Where's it to? Don't know. How long's it going to be? Haven't a clue. Previously available information, shielded, covered, obscured.
Which brings me back to TfL's supposed rule regarding 'next train' indicators - "we stipulate that they can be seen at the entrances to platforms". Not at Mile End they aren't. At Mile End, bizarrely, they're only perfectly visible at the exits to platforms! Enter either eastbound platform and they can't be read, not unless you walk halfway up towards the front of the train. And now, thanks to the implementation of some all-encompassing modernisation programme, westbound Central line customers arrive on the platform in a freshly created blind spot. Totally un-joined-up thinking, as one part of TfL sticks in a new station feature which acts as a barrier to something previously installed by another. The cretins are back, right now, this week, in a tube station near me.
I did email TfL 10 days ago to see if they could tell me what was going on at Mile End station. I asked for reassurance that I'd interpreted the situation wrongly, and that in fact engineers had some other solution up their sleeve (like lowering the 'next train' indicators or installing new ones or not actually building a new ceiling quite so low as it appears). But no answer has been forthcoming, despite an initial reply saying they'd look into it. So I can only assume that TfL-directed engineers are continuing to add a too-low ceiling at Mile End because nobody's thinking about the complete picture. New ceilings, sanctioned by ignorance, installed by cretins. Nothing changes.
Tube quiz (29)Zone to zone Some tube trains nip through entire travelcard zones really quickly, pausing at only one or two intermediate stations along the way. So this morning I'm asking you to identify the intermediate station (or stations) in these zone-to-zone journeys. A) Zone 1 → two intermediate stations → Zone 3 B) Zone 1 → two intermediate stations → Zone 3 C) Zone 1 → one intermediate station → Zone 4 D) Zone 3 → two intermediate stations → Zone 5 E) Zone 4 → one intermediate station → Zone 6 F) Zone 7 → one intermediate station → Zone 9 n.b. None of the stations involved in these journeys are on the boundary between zones. All answers are now in the comments box.
Tube quiz (28)Gateline There aren't many stations left where you can still exit from the London Underground without passing through a ticket barrier. Roding Valley is one. How many more do we know of?
Ungated station: Roding Valley, Finsbury Park, South Kenton, Mill Hill East, Kensington Olympia. One ungated exit: Chorleywood (westbound), Waterloo (W&C), Bank (via lift), Chalfont & Latimer, Finchley Central, Sudbury Town (westbound?), Woodside Park (northbound), Farringdon (rush hour). Ungated exit on special event days: Sloane Square (Chelsea Flower Show), Oval (cricket), Fulham Broadway (Chelsea FC), Arsenal (Arsenal), Putney Bridge (Fulham), Westbourne Park (Carnival). Exit via Tramlink: Wimbledon. Exit via DLR: Bank, Canning Town, Stratford. Exit via London Overground: West Brompton, Willesden Junction, Richmond, Kew Gardens, Gunnersbury, Highbury & Islington, Blackhorse Road. Exit via National Rail: several - including Farringdon, Greenford, Ealing Broadway, West Ruislip (via car park), Amersham, Moorgate, Old Street.
Tube geek/watch (28)Roding Valley Of all the stations on the London Underground, the one you're least likely to visit is Roding Valley. It's on the Essex/London border at the eastern end of the Central line on the Hainault Loop, roughly halfway between Woodford and Buckhurst Hill (but not actually served by trains on that main branch). Three trains an hour, if you're lucky. And maybe that's why this station sees only 210,000 passengers a year (which is half the total of the second least visited station - neighbouring Chigwell). Roding Valley is the tube's most overlooked destination. So, obviously, I had to go and take a look.
Took a while. I had to let five Central line trains go past before a "Woodford via Hainault" train finally rumbled along. I was taken on a circuitous route around the London borough of Redbridge, eventually rumbling across the M11 and over a river whose name you can probably guess. I was surprised that there were still as many as nine passengers in my particular tube carriage as Roding Valley station approached. But I wasn't surprised when the doors opened and I was the only person on the entire train to step out onto the platform.
An entire TfL station to myself - this surely doesn't happen very often. But I did get a very definite feeling that I was being watched. There are a ridiculous number of security cameras at this station, pointing this way and that, ensuring that nobody can even pick their nose without being scrutinised from ten different angles. Loudspeakers are even more numerous, most of these planted on closely-spaced metal stalks, meaning there's absolutely no escape from announcements about engineering works and unattended luggage. So dense is the electronic forest sprouting from Roding Valley's platforms that I can only assume the Hainault Loop is some asbo hotspot (or else tube infraco Metronet were a bunch of scamming swindlers fleecing TfL's budget for every penny they could screw).
Or maybe all the CCTV is a revenue protection scheme. Roding Valley is one of the few ungated stations on the tube network, meaning it's perfectly possible for the criminally-minded to slink in or out without waving an Oyster card. Instead the two entrances are protected by an enamel sign warning of a £50 penalty fare, which is a lot cheaper to install than a full-time member of staff. Incidentally these are also step-free entrances, recently enabled, meriting Roding Valley a rare wheelchair blob on the Central line tube diagram. Just be aware that it's not possible to wheel from one platform to the other via the footbridge - a 500m trek along local backstreets is required.
When the next train arrived I was watching from the footbridge, looking down across the tracks curving beneath me. This particular service from Woodford was a little busier, this being the quicker route to/from central London, and a quartet of passengers disembarked and rapidly dispersed. I was then surprised by something I wasn't expecting to see at a reputedly unstaffed station - a TfL member of staff. There was me wandering around with my camera like I owned the place, and all the time I was being watched by the bloke paid to keep an eye on things. I gritted my teeth and walked down to the ticket hall to try to take some more pictures under his surveillance.
I needn't have worried. While I was snapping away the station manager popped over for a chat and was politeness personified. He said he'd seen somebody else taking photos of the tree-flanked platforms earlier, and wondered what the attraction was. He was also particularly keen to show me Roding Valley's unique front-of-station topiary - the hedge beside the bike rack that's been clipped and coerced into the shape of a steam locomotive. There's more than enough spare time inbetween trains for him to ensure its immaculate upkeep, and if I come back next year it might even have four new wheels. As head gardener he also maintains the station's hanging baskets, in season, and pointed out the three "second place" certificates displayed proudly on the station wall. Woodford's the local station to beat, apparently. Maybe next year.
At this point in the conversation there was another customer to deal with, wanting to know which platform to use to get to London (answer: either of them). This gave me the chance to take a final look around before heading off down the street into surrounding suburbia. But Mr Station Bloke stopped me before I left with an interesting proposition. He said he had something in his office that someone like me might like, and would I wait while he went inside to fetch it. So I waited, and what do you know, he was absolutely right. It's easy to bash TfL and point out small niggly faults that make our everyday tube journeys less than perfect. But at a very human level, in this remote under-visited outpost, the organisation's true quality shone through.
Tube quiz (27)Platforms Most London Underground stations have an even number of platforms. But can you identify any stations with an odd number of platforms? (That's platforms currently in use by Underground trains)
1 platform: Chesham, Heathrow Terminal 4, Mill Hill East, Kensington Olympia 3 platforms: Amersham, Chalfont & Latimer, Stanmore, Edgware, High Barnet, Finchley Central, Seven Sisters, Woodford, Hainault, Leytonstone, Upminster, Dagenham East, Plaistow, Tower Hill, Mansion House, Gloucester Road, Putney Bridge, Richmond, Morden, Hammersmith H&C, North Acton, North Greenwich. 5 platforms: Ealing Broadway, Stratford
Tubewatch (27)The Little Book I'd like to apologise to you if you've bought a copy of "The Little Book of the London Underground". This is a stocking-filler hardback, recently launched, which offers 200 pages of "wacky" tube facts for £9.99. It's been written by Times journalist David Long, who's written three other books about the capital including one particular volume that Amazon keeps urging me to purchase. David's latest densely-packed book contains chapters on Mapping the Underground, Heroes & Villains and Stories, Songs & Films. And look, I'd just like to apologise for the bits I wrote, because they're mostly inaccurate.
I was quite surprised to find bits in the book that I'd written, because nobody asked me if it was OK to include them. To be fair, David has tweaked them and written around them and applied his own take on things. But I take full responsibility for writing them in the first place, and for them not being entirely correct. If you want to ask for your money back, don't let me stop you.
When my annual Tube Week started, way back in 2003, one of the first lists I published was "the number of tube stations in each London borough". It was a lot like the list you can see in the post below, only a 2003 version. I sat there with a map and tried to tally up how many stations there were in each borough, and I made a list, and I published it on the blog. And blimey, what do you know, there's that same list on page 104 of David's book. OK, so he's listed the boroughs in alphabetical not numerical order. OK, so he spotted that Lewisham now has no stations rather than the two it had in 2003. And OK, so he's accidentally omitted Westminster, which is the single most station-packed borough in London. But I recognise most of the rest of the numbers in his list because I counted them myself six years ago. Even the ones that are wrong. Tower Hamlets doesn't have 12 tube stations any more, because the East London line's closed. Hillingdon now has an extra station at Heathrow, which makes 15 not 14. And Hammersmith & Fulham actually has 15 tube stations not 13 because online mapping was rubbish in 2003 and I couldn't be sure whether two of them were over the border or not. You may have added a few errors of your own, David, but I got it wrong first.
Then there's page 142, where David publishes a list of average speeds on various tube lines. That's a nigh-perfect copy of my original list, also from Tube Week 2003, where I divided the length of each line (in miles) by how long a typical journey was from end to end. Desperately unscientific stuff, and in no way related to the top speeds that trains on these lines actually reach, but David's published it all the same. My apologies, I should have researched it better.
Then there's page 60, which is the classic "it's sometimes quicker to walk" section. David's been kind enough to give me a namecheck here (I am the "popular Tube-blogger known as Diamond Geezer"), and then used exactly the same six examples of journeys that I used in Tube Week 2003. Unfortunately this time he's copied them wrongly, making the perhaps understandable error of assuming that metres are the same as yards. They're not. So I'd like to apologise, again, because Regents Park to Great Portland Street isn't 220 yards it's 220 metres.
I also had more than a flicker of recognition on page 92 - "Stations with lifts instead of escalators" (but no, David, you really shouldn't have added East Ham, Finchley Central, Hammersmith, Hillingdon and Wembley Park).
So look, I'd hate you to think I was ungrateful. And I'd hate you to think that I have any sort of rights over this sort of information, because it's freely available on the internet and anyone can use a blog for inspiration if they so wish. But I would like to apologise for providing incorrect information which has now been immortalised in print, thereby adding to a number of other inaccuracies stated as fact in David's book. So if you bought The Little Book of the London Underground, sorry, that could have been ten pounds better spent. And if somebody buys you this book for Christmas, please take all my bits with the huge pinch of salt they deserve.
Tube geek (27)Borough How many tube stations are there in each London borough? Lots. Or maybe none.
Westminster (30); Brent (20); Camden (17); Hammersmith & Fulham, Hillingdon (15); Ealing (14); Barnet (13); Kensington & Chelsea (12); City of London (11); Harrow, Redbridge (10); Islington (9); Hounslow, Lambeth, Tower Hamlets [Essex] (8); Southwark (7); Haringey, Newham, Wandsworth (6); Barking & Dagenham, Merton, [Herts] (5); Enfield, Havering, Waltham Forest (4); [Bucks] (3); Hackney, Richmond (2); Greenwich, (1); Bexley, Bromley, Croydon, Kingston, Lewisham, Sutton (0) (This is an updated, hopefully now correct, version of a list which first appeared in Tube Week 2003)
My borough-by-borough list perfectly sums up the inequitable geographical spread of the tube network. Westminster, not surprisingly, fares the best. All of the top eight boroughs in the list are to the north or west of the capital (along an approximate Metro-land-ish axis). Meanwhile all but one of the bottom nine boroughs in the list are to the south of the Thames. Six of these southern boroughs have absolutely no tube stations at all (although Lewisham used to have two until the East London line changed hands). Hackney's the most glaring exception to the north-south rule with a mere two tubestations, both of which are located unhelpfully on the borough boundary. But otherwise this may be the true reason why the river's so important on the tube map - it divides the haves from the have nots.
Tubewatch (26)Non-priority seats The ten people you least want sitting beside you on the tube: • The accordionist. • The extremely chunky fat man. • The bloke who hasn't washed since September. • The woman attempting to read a broadsheet newspaper in your airspace. • The flustered parent with a whiny kid who wants to crawl across and sit on your lap. • The shouty girl gossiping across the carriage to her six mates, know what I mean. • The shift worker eating something oozy, drippy, slurpy and honking. • The adolescent with a frisky pitbull on a short lead. • The girl who thinks the entire armrest is hers. • The blogger taking notes.
Tube quiz (26)Name that station Here are the names of 30 tube stations with all the consonants replaced by 'c' and all the vowels replaced by 'v'. Can you identify them? For example, Neasden = consonant vowel vowel consonant consonant vowel consonant = cvvccvc
Tube geek (26)Re-rivering the tube map A couple of months ago, you may remember (of course you remember, even people who live in Lerwick probably remember) there was an incredible furore about the new clutter-free tube map. The River Thames went missing, and the general public went apoplectic. Never mind that nobody catches trains down the Thames, nor that the tube crosses the river without obstruction. The media screamed, Boris pronounced, and the Thames will be back on our tube maps next month.
Which creates an awkward problem. It'll be fairly simple to squeeze the Thames back into west and central London because there's plenty of room for manoeuvre. But out east it's a very different story, and two conflicting blue lines are to blame. One is the DLR, which insists on having umpteen stations every few hundred metres, and the other is the river's whopping great meander around the Isle of Dogs.
Here's the Docklands chunk of the latest tube map. It's noticeably simpler than used to be the case, with no East London line replacement buses, a single-blob interchange at Canary Wharf and a slimmer-than-before curve through North Greenwich. But now this elegant layout and spacing are under threat. Look at the gaps through which the restored Thames has somehow got to weave its way. First between Rotherhithe and Wapping (squish), then bending sharply south to the left of Canary Wharf. From here it's all the way down to squeeze between Island Gardens and Cutty Sark, then all the way back up and over the top of North Greenwich before flowing right back down again. Tight fit indeed. There's always been an unwritten rule on the tube map that station names must never be written across the Thames, but I wonder if they'll have to break that this time. Or maybe those IoD DLR stations will have to be compressed even closer together... which would be far easier if (cough) all the blue accessibility blobs were removed from the map.
Replacing the Thames won't help 99.9% of passengers to make their journeys, but it is going to make East London travel look far more complicated than it ought to be. The December tube map will be forced to sacrifice clarity of vision for political correctness, and all because people who rarely use the Underground say it must. Only a few weeks to wait and we'll see how good a damage limitation exercise the designers have managed.
Time once again for diamond geezer to go totally tubular with another week devoted to the London Underground. Prepare for five days of quizzes, quirks, commentary and obscure statistics. Six years ago I looked at the busiest stations and journeys where it was quicker to walk. Five years ago I investigated tube line colours and the easiest interchanges. Four years ago I discussed overcrowding and precisely where the underground is underground. Three years I wrote about accessibility and why people never move down the platform. Two years ago I examined the agonies of Bank/Monument and taking your bike on the tube. And last year I spent the entire week wondering why 'next train' indicators are installed by cretins. I hope there's still something left to write about this year. Mind the doors.
LONDON A-Z An alphabetical journey through the capital's museums UCL Collections - Petrie Museum
Location: Malet Place, University College London WC1E 6BT [map] Open: Tue - Fri, 1pm-5pm (& Sat, 11am-2pm) Admission: free Brief summary: academic Egyptological hoard Website:www.ucl.ac.uk/museums/petrie Time to set aside: an hour
The University of London is reputedly the third oldest in England, after Oxford and Cambridge, established in Gower Street during the reign of George IV. It's old enough to boast (count 'em) eight different museums, most of them small, and several open by appointment only. Only one of these is open at the weekend, and then for only three hours, so I took my chance and that's where I headed. Back in time to the age of the Pharaohs, to an upper room where eighty thousand catalogued Egyptian artefacts are stored.
They don't make museums like the Petrie any more. No buttons to press, no £3 audio guides, just a heck of a lot of very old things in gloomy glass cases. The collection's primary function is to serve the needs of classical and archaeological students, and don't you forget it. Admittance is via a dead-end backstreet, through a not-entirely obvious door, then upstairs to an admissions desk in what looks like one of the campus's forgotten offices. Prepare for items-on-shelf overload, and step inside.
The first short gallery, which is not entirely typical, houses fragments of carved stone. Few are wholly intact, but several slabs are carved with strip upon strip of exquisite hieroglyphics. As languages go, the Egyptian's intricate pictorial script may have been woefully inefficient (and entirely inappropriate for web-based communication), but it doesn't half look good. Another narrow gallery is located alongside, opening out into a larger space beyond, and all bursting with rammed-full glass cases. Don't expect glittering mummies and whopping sarcophagi, these tend to be much smaller more commonplace tomb-raided treasures. Votive tablets, serpentine caskets, and signet rings once worn by Nectaneto II - that sort of thing. Every item in the museum is labelled with a painted serial number plus a short written description, and here you'll find regular reference to dynasties, cartouches and "faience pendants". Ssh, try not to mention that all these objects were thieved from their country of origin by Empire-building 'collectors'.
For a relatively obscure museum, the building was busier than I expected. Some visitors were young couples, quite possibly UCL freshers taking time out to see what their new university had to offer. The rest tended to be older and more scholarly, or were at least pretending to be. A couple of earnest Egyptologists were wandering around, busy telling an ever-decreasing crowd of hangers-on about their favourite Petrie exhibits. It was entertaining to watch their beleaguered audience attempting politely to slip away before their nemesis dived into yet another lengthy anecdote about a big dig or the object of their PhD thesis. "You have to go do you? Pity, but thank you for your attention."
A second, lower, gallery contains an unfeasibly high number of different kinds ofpot, plus a few hundred tiles for good measure. If Egyptian earthenware is your thing then there's even a table for personal study, or alternatively where visitors under the age of 10 can colour in some pictures in crayon. One one particular wall there's a rack of torches - do take one, because the lighting's kept low throughout the museum to preserve the exhibits from permanent decay. And don't forget to check out the rear staircase, where yet more objects (including a fair number of ornamental cats and a sandstone jackal's paw) have been stashed. No space in this historical repository is underused.
If you want dazzling Egyptian treasures, then head instead for the British Museum. But for a clearer sense of the ancient everyday, or simply for the opportunity to potter round a musty academic backwater, try the Petrie. by tube: Euston Square
U is also for... » UndercroftMuseum(in Westminster Abbey) » erm, that's it for London museums, innit?
Four weeks on from the Evening Standard's giveaway rebirth, how is its distribution network doing? You may remember that free copies were originally available only outside central London stations and in scattered suburban supermarkets. Have things got any better? I've taken a look at the Evening Standard's newly-updated distribution map to find out.
Hmm, better. But could do better.
In the centre of London the story is pretty much the same as before. Full coverage at tube stations and mainline termini, which is great so long as you work or travel via one of them. And quite a few W H Smiths, even the bookshop in the basement of Selfridges (which isn't normally the sort of place I associated with picking up a freesheet newspaper). But still no vendors in tube-free Clerkenwell, as I noted a month ago, and no Standards available on Fleet Street. At my local workplace tube station, the one I commute home from, The Evening Standard is being given out by the nice bloke who runs the newsagents kiosk outside. No special Standard hander-outers here, just a whopping pile of zero-priced papers securely positioned beneath a metal weight for anyone to take. This probably boosts sales at the kiosk as more people stop by, which is nice. But having to make an effort to seek, lift and remove one's own copy definitely diminishes the Standard's potential readership by a significant factor.
Head a little further out, say to Zone 2, and there's been a bit more progress. The Evening Standard is now increasingly available in the one type of shop where you'd expect to find it - in a newsagents. ES management have done a distribution deal with various independent stores and paper shops, widening availability to plug several previous gaping holes in the network. Residents of Blackheath, for example, can now pick up a Standard from Nicky's News on the Old Dover Road, from Shepherd Foods in Blackheath Village or from Platform News inside the station. That's a big improvement. And in Kilburn, previously an ES-desert, there's now distribution at Rainbow News, Pelican News and Smoker's Junction. Like I said, getting better. But, erm, is it just me, or are the huge majority of these newsagent-type places in the western half of London, not the east. From the map it doesn't half look like they're concentrated in affluent areas like Richmond, Maida Vale and Barnes, not in less advertiser-friendly locations like Dalston, New Cross and Bow. Let me check by doing a tedious map-based survey of outlets in the W and E postcode areas... <goes away and checks>... I'll disregard postcode W1, because it's too central. Across postcodes W2-W14 there are 64 Standard dispensing outlets, one-third of these independent retailers. Whereas across the 18 E postcode areas there are only 34 distributors, every single one of them either at a station, a Smiths or a supermarket. Not one independent East End newsagent gives away the Standard. And that stinks.
Head further out, to the commuting suburbs, and the picture is as sparse as ever. If you want an Evening Standard in Zones 4, 5 or 6, you're probably going to have to head to your nearest major supermarket. We're talking major, the ones with the big car parks, so they're few and far between. And out here there's been almost no attempt whatsoever to broaden the distribution network since relaunch four weeks ago. In Romford you still have to head for Sainsburys or Asda, in Ruislip to a single southern Sainsbury, and in Purley a lonely Tesco Extra. Who's going to bother? in Bow, where I live, the only place I can get a Standard is my local Tesco in Bromley-by-Bow. It's not somewhere I'd ever go daily, even if I worked from home. Even worse, the pile of Standards is located in a box beyond the entrance barrier, so popping in for a freebie paper and then leaving would make me look extremely shifty. As part of a supposed 'distribution network' this supermarket option is bloody useless, even tokenistic.
One more thing. The Standard's availability map now includes additional information about which edition of the paper you'll get where. In Central London you'll get both versions - the First Edition which hits newsstands at lunchtime and the West End Final which appears later in the afternoon. But step outside Zone 1 and you'll only find a copy of the First Edition, even if it's six o'clock in the evening. If Prince William gets engaged at lunchtime, readers at Kings Cross will read about it in their evening paper but readers in Islington will still see the earlier headline. Ditto there's a world of difference between Vauxhall (both) and Oval (first) only, and between Baker Street (new news) and St John's Wood (old news). Essentially, if you're not a homebound Central London commuter then you're a second class ES citizen. I remember the days, not so long ago, when an orange and white van would pull up outside Bow Church DLR in the evening rush hour to deliver extra copies of the latest edition for the local populace to read. Those days are gone.
Having switched to publishing an un-paid-for freesheet, I guess it makes economic sense for the Evening Standard to cut its distribution costs to the bone. But the end result, even after a month of improvement, remains unimpressively parochial for a supposedly pan-London newspaper.
And finally, in this week of anniversaries, a pre-anniversary.
There are precisely six months to go until Thursday 6th May 2010, which is the most likely date for the next General Election. Today is also precisely 4½ years since Tony Blair triumphed in the UK's last General Election. Which makes today precisely 90% of the way through this Parliament. With 10% still to go.
Here's that "10%-to-go" in a meaningful graphic. Not long. And yet ages.
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When the election comes round, it's a pretty sure bet that we're in for a change of occupant at Number 10. This means that Gordon Brown will have survived just over 1000 days running the country before the country kicks him out. He only became PM in the middle of 2007 (I know, seems longer doesn't it?), so there's still one sixth of his Premiership to go.
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As for the current Labour Government, which kicked off with Tony Blair's red dawn way back in 1997, that's now 96% complete and only 4% remains. New Labour is now Very Much Approaching Retirement Labour, and remains in power only because no General Election need be held until the PM's forced to hold one. That's how democracy works in this country - you don't have to be the most popular party to govern, you just have to have been the most popular on the one day when the electoral snapshot was taken.
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The UK's political pendulum has already swung back into the blue, in one of those great mood shifts that comes along every half-generation or so. Unless David Cameron is suddenly outed as Adolf Hitler's grandson (and even that might not be enough), he'll be celebrating a landslide election victory in precisely six months time. There'll be rapturous applause from the press, and a honeymoon period with the public that might last months or even years, and then all the usual scandals and crises that beset every government we've ever had until eventually everybody hates the Conservatives as much as they hate Labour now and the whole utterly predictable cycle goes round again.
70 years of political power
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Six months until everything changes. Which will either fill you with joy or with fear. Hold tight.
Hurrah! Britain's favourite department store is celebrating its centenary today.
Frank Winfield Woolworth opened his first UK shop in Liverpool on 5th November 1909. He'd arrived in the city by liner six months earlier, fresh from establishing a successful chain of five and dime stores in the US. The idea needed translating a bit for the English market (thruppence and sixpence were the initial prices charged over here) but Frank's underlying raison d'être remained the same. Buy quality in bulk, pile it high, and they will come. And so they did, to 25Church Street that Friday morning, to see what lay behind the curved glass frontage. "The handsome premises were thronged the whole time they were open," reported the local paper on the day of opening, even though not a single item was sold. American tradition dictated that day 1 was for viewing only, although visitors were also treated to complimentary tea in the refreshment room and a variety of circus acts. A bit gaudy, thought some, but Liverpool loved FWW and stripped the shelves bare. Within five years another 40 stores had opened across the country, and a retail empire was born.
And so today there'll be centenary celebrations in Woolworths stores across the nation. Bunting will flap, brass bands will play, and there'll be special merchandise at Edwardian prices... except, damn, no there won't. Woolworths spontaneously combusted earlier this year and now exists only as an insignificant online brandname. What a pity that Frank's company didn't live long enough to still be trading today, and maybe even receive a special telegram from the Queen.
So, in the absence of any official 100 year shindig, I thought I'd ask "What happened to London's Woolworths?" There used to be just over a hundred Woolies in the capital. Most have since been filled by some other retail enterprise, although a fair proportion are still locked, shuttered and empty. I've compiled the following list using informationavailableonline, but there may be several omissions and errors, and there are definitely gaps. Can you help me to improve, update and complete it? 6pm update: I've updated the list in line with your (many) comments so far, thanks!.
Iceland: Bethnal Green, Bow, Greenford, Hackney, Harold Hill, Highgate, Kilburn, Leyton, Mill Hill, Palmers Green, Pinner (Rayners Lane), Plumstead, Poplar, Stoke Newington, Upminster, Wallington. 99p store: Balham, Camberwell, Chingford Mount, Edgware, Eltham, Enfield Town, Hornchurch, Muswell Hill, Penge, Shirley, Sidcup, Southall, Stratford, Streatham. Poundland: East Ham, North Finchley, Tooting, Uxbridge, West Ealing. Wilkinsons: Ilford, Walthamstow.
Not sure: Beckton, Burnt Oak, Elm Park, Enfield Highway, Harrow, Hayes, Hounslow, Kingston, Lee, Lower Edmonton, New Addington, North Cheam, Richmond, Romford, Sanderstead, West Hounslow.
Sorry, it would appear to be anniversary week this week. And I'm not finished yet.
It's 40 years ago today since my very first day at school. Not nursery school, because I'd been going up the road to play in the sandpit for a couple of years before that. But proper big school where all the old kids went, some of them even six or seven years old.
To start with I was only invited to go into school for a couple of afternoons a week. There was no mass enlisting of the nation's pre-infants into full time education in those days, oh no, we were generally left free to toddle about in the garden and go down the shops with our mums. But I was permitted admission a few months earlier than most because I was a precocious little thing, and going to school meant I could ask lots and lots of questions to somebody who was actually paid to answer them.
It wasn't far to walk, just a minute up the road and a couple of minutes down. Obviously on that first day I was taken by a parent, but within a few years I'd be allowed to walk home at lunchtime all by myself. You allow a six year-old boy in shorts to do that today and social workers would be down on you like a tabloid headline writer.
My teacher was called Carol, although I only ever knew her as "Miss" at the time. She welcomed me to the school and led me past the coathooks out of sight of my anxious parent. Had I realised what my mum was thinking I'd have turned round and said "Don't worry, I'm not planning on bursting into tears the minute you've gone, although obviously I still love you very much" but I didn't.
My new classroom was big and broad and tall. They no longer build classrooms like these Victorians spaces, all echoing chambers with tall windows, and hard to keep heated during the dark days of winter. There were lots of drawers around the edge of the room, some for scrap paper, some for scissors, and one of which was destined to be mine. I was a bit miffed that Miss had already written my name on it in chunky bold marker pen when I was perfectly capable of writing my own name unaided. Precocious, yeah.
I was taken over to sit next to a girl called Marianne. Such a very 1960s sort of a name, not that I realised this at the time because I was into nursery rhymes and not waspish folk singers. I wasn't initially very chatty with my new friend, sitting there in her polyester blouse and grey skirt, but within a year she'd be inviting me to her birthday party. We spent much of the afternoon bonding over a jigsaw. It wasn't the most academic start to my formal education but, despite this early setback, I still managed to knuckle down and gain a place at university several years later.
My teacher didn't attempt to teach me phonics, or assess my nascent ability against centrally prescribed Early Learning Goals. However, I was given my very first maths exercise book, which was slim and yellow and ruled with chunky squares inside. Miss personalised everybody's book by writing a selection of digits and symbols on the front cover in coloured paint. I remember being distinctly unimpressed by her choice of numerals, and insisted that she give me an out-of-curriculum 'zero' as well. I think she smiled as she painted it, but that may have been a fixed grin.
I later made acquaintance with the class guinea pig, or at least the straw-filled cage in which it supposedly lived. We didn't do pets in my house, what with my dad being allergic to all things furry, so this close encounter was quite a revelation. Several months later I'd make the mistake of convincing my teacher to let me take the cage home for the weekend, which would lead to an impromptu science lesson when an entirely predictable itchy rash broke out.
During afternoon break I learned from my new classmates that there was to be a very special Guy Fawkes treat the following day. Every child in the school was going to be given a sparkler, a whole entire sparkler of their very own, and then allowed to wave it around in the lower playground as it flashed and spluttered and fizzed. There were no nannying health & safety risk assessments in those days - teachers simply stuck a lethal weapon in our hands and let us get on with wielding it. I was extremely excited, until I remembered that tomorrow was a Wednesday and I didn't yet come to school on Wednesdays. This was undoubtedly the day's low point.
I'm sure I pestered my mum something rotten when hometime came around, but I was told point blank that I definitely couldn't come back until Thursday. If only the teachers had told me back then how rare a day off would be in the future, I doubt I'd have complained quite so much about my sparkerlessness. But my first day at school had achieved its intended goal and I was already aching to come back. It wouldn't all be jigsaws and guinea pigs on the several thousand schooldays that followed, but I wouldn't be where I am today without the education that Miss and her talented successors provided.
If it's quarter past seven on the morning of the third of November then I've been single for exactly ten years. (Yes, I know I've posted this particular post atthesametimeeveryyear since this blog started, but I always update it a bit, and it seems to resonate. And I'm not after sympathy, really I'm not, because I'm perfectly happy being single thanks. But, blimey, ten years eh? Maybe it's finally time to give this post a rest)
Some might say that we single people are missing out on the joys of coupledom, and maybe we are, but I'm convinced that there are equally many positive points to being single:
Single: You get the whole duvet to yourself. Coupled: You don't need a hot water bottle.
Single: There's half as much ironing to do. Coupled: There's twice as much ironing to do but somebody else might do it.
Single: You can hoover the carpet when you think it needs doing. Coupled: Somebody else hoovers the carpet before you think it needs doing.
Single: Nobody ever tells you that the kitchen must be repainted and the bathroom must be retiled. Coupled: Two people can repaint the kitchen or retile the bathroom far more quickly than one.
Single: You never have to waste a Saturday doing what somebody else wants. Coupled: You never sit around on a Saturday wondering what the hell to do.
Single: You can play your music collection really loud, even the track that nobody else likes. Coupled: Your music collection is double the size.
Single: You can watch whatever TV channel you like, without arguments. Coupled: There's somebody else on the sofa to snuggle up to.
Single: Nobody complains when you burp, belch or fart. Coupled: Somebody points out when you have dandruff on your shoulder.
Single: You don't have to put up with somebody else's niggly annoying habits. Coupled: Somebody else puts up with your niggly annoying habits.
Single: The toilet seat is always where you left it. Coupled: The toilet seat isn't always freezing cold.
Single: You never come home to a blazing row. Coupled: You sometimes come home to a cooked meal.
Single: You get to eat the whole ready meal for two yourself. Coupled: It takes just as long to cook for two as it does for one.
Single: You can spend all your money on yourself. Coupled: There are two salaries coming in and only one set of bills.
Single: You can walk away from a flatshare, any time. Coupled: You can afford a mortgage, together.
Single: There are no important birthdays or anniversaries to accidentally forget. Coupled: Somebody actually remembers your birthday.
Single: You never have to buy useless presents for your partner, just for the sake of it. Coupled: Somebody buys you presents occasionally, and it's the thought that counts.
Single: Nobody insists on coming over to yours for Christmas. Coupled: Everybody insists on coming over to yours for Christmas.
Single: You're allowed to flirt with people in the street. Coupled: You don't need to flirt with people in the street.
Single: You can still have a riotous social life in your 30s. Coupled: You can still have a riotous social life in your 60s.
Single: You have no friends to go out with because they've all partnered off and are staying in. Coupled: You don't have to go out with those annoying friends you had while you were single.
Single: You don't catch every sniffle, cold and flu bug off your partner. Coupled: When you suffer a major cardiac arrest, somebody actually notices and dials 999.
Single: You never get left all alone and desolate because your life partner's just passed away. Coupled: When you get old and infirm, you don't end up in a care home because there's nobody to look after you.
Single: If you meet the partner of your dreams, it's not too late to marry them. Coupled: Nobody ever meets the partner of their dreams, so better to get married before it's too late.
Single: Being coupled is restrictive, stifling and a sign of personal weakness. Coupled: Being single is unnatural, lonely and a sign of personal failure.
Single: You never get your heart broken. Coupled: You sometimes feel your heart leap.
Single: You can have sex with anyone you like. Coupled: You can have sex whenever you like.
Single: The bathroom is always free. Coupled: The bedroom is always full.
Single: You can lie in bed in the morning for as long as you like. Coupled: There's a very good reason for lying in bed in the morning.
Single: Nobody sees what you look like first thing in the morning. Coupled: Somebody loves you despite what they see first thing in the morning.
Single: You never get told by your partner, in no uncertain terms, to refrain from ever having any kind of emotional or sexual liaison with anybody else, otherwise there'll be shouting and screaming, even violence, except it turns out later that your partner has been repeatedly shagging around behind your back ever since the relationship began, so those same rules clearly didn't once apply to them, but then that's what happens when you fall in love with a psychopath. Not that I'm in any way bitter, you understand...
Yes, I know, it's illegal to go for a walk along a motorway. But, to celebrate the 50thanniversary of the opening of Britain's most famous road, I've been for a stroll as close alongside the M1 as I could get. From Junction 5, which is where the 1959 motorway began, all the way up to junction 6a, which is the M1's more recent mega-connection to the M25. That's a six-mile rural hike up the edge of Watford. Oh yeah, I know how to live it up, me.
Junction 5: Berrygrove Before the M1 came along, the Colne Valley southeast of Watford was a place of relative peace and calm. OK, so there was a major trunk road passing through - the A41 - but nothing visually intrusive. And then Britain's first major motorway arrived, launching off from these fields towards Luton and "The North", and the area was never the same again. A buckle-shaped roundabout was built to link the new M1 to the parallel A41, and traffic filtered off to drive on the pristine no-speed-limit carriageways. It's still possible to see what used to be here, before the concrete crash-landed, by taking a walk up from the Aldenham Road along the very edge of the motorway. The path passes first through a field, then enters thick beechy woodland - this being Berrygrove Woods after which the carved-out junction is named. It's a delightful place, all shady forest and muddy trails, currently with scrunchy brown leaves and sprouting fungi underfoot [photo]. From the central sloping trail the roar of the M1 is never too far away, though well hidden. Only by stepping deep into the undergrowth can the roundabout's embankment be seen, high above, disgorging traffic towards the backstreets of Bushey. Best not to even look, and simply to enjoy the unexpected woody solitude of Junction 5's scarred neighbour.
Munden Drive Despite being a mile from the M1, the landowners of stately Munden House risked being cut off from civilisation when the M1 was constructed. Their (very) long drive would be severed by the new road, and no alternative exit across the scenic River Colne looked practical. So the very first bridge across the M1 was a tiny thing designed to link a single mansion to the outside world. No cyclists are permitted to cross today, but pedestrians are welcome to stand high above the centre of the dual carriageway so long as they step out of the way should any Jag or Roller swan by. One wonders what drivers thundering below think when they spot somebody gawping from the overbridge. "Who is that up there?" "Why the hell are they taking photos, are they police?" "Oh no, he's not going to drop a brick on my windscreen is he?" "Don't jump!" [photo]
Meriden Estate The M1 divides residential Watford from some really very lovely countryside. I stuck to the pretty side, following untrod footpaths across meadows and through brambly copses. Every now and again the path came right up alongside the hard shoulder, sometimes beside a giant roadsign, occasionally past one of those anonymous grey boxes that monitors something. A real ale pub in the middle of nowhere came as a pleasant surprise, although the M1's concrete barrier must restrict the clientèle somewhat. Residents of the Meriden Estate aren't given too much opportunity to cross from their side to this, just a couple of gloomy subways, which tends to keep them away unless they have a dog to walk. The only bunch I encountered were a bunch of lads lurking in silhouette beneath the northbound carriageway. They might have been sweet kids who do errands for their grannies, or they might have been comparing knife sharpness, I didn't pause to find out.
Bucknalls Lane If your flat takes longer than an hour to burn down, or if relatively little heat escapes through your newbuild walls, then you probably have the Building Research Establishment to thank [photo]. They're based in Garston, up the far end of Bucknalls Lane, and in the mid 1950s the M1 came burrowing right past their main entrance. All these government scientists carrying out thrilling state-of-the-art research into pre-stressed concrete, and suddenly a genuine concrete-churning project materialised immediately alongside. BRE's thoughts today are with sustainability, low energy houses and all that tedious quality review stuff, so I doubt if the current generation of administrators are quite so excited by the engineering marvel outside the main gate. [photo]
Junction 6: Waterdale The M1 had an architectural style all of its very own, with every bridge along the 53-mile length essentially built to the same design. Flat slablike tops, bold concrete curves, and a pleasing modernity throughout. In the days before computer-aided design, it helped to have one chunky blueprint to stretch or skew to fit the space available. At Waterdale the A405 ducks beneath what was the second junction on the motorway, but is now number six [photo]. It's a very simple (and fairly cheap) junction with a couple of single-lane slip roads curving round to/from the embankment above. Catenary lighting hangs messily along the centre of the dual carriageway, ensuring that this key stretch of the UK network is illuminated at all times. I guess there can't be too many amateur astronomers living in neighbouring Bricket Wood.
Junction 6a: (M25 Junction 21) You've probably driven through here. It's where the M1 meets the M25, a triple-level free-flowing junction where the country's two most iconic motorways intersect. But I bet you haven't been here on foot. I was amazed that it was even possible. First I had to follow a non-footpath along the edge of the A405 dual carriageway to a half-hidden signpost, then cross a ploughed field up a shallow incline into a wood. No clues thus far as to what was hidden on the other side. A sudden fence corralled me alongside the southbound M1, a mere stone's throw away, then down to an unexpected viewpoint beneath a stack of three intersecting overpasses [photo]. As the traffic sped by, both above and below, I felt like an insignificant infidel encroaching into the heart of an automotive temple. But don't knock the power of the pedestrian "right of way". The Department of Transport has had to construct a traversable route through and across this multi-lane canyon, resulting in a pair of narrow footbridges suspended higher than the tops of the lampposts below. These bridges can't be used by more than a couple of pairs of walking boots each day, but they provided an excellent grandstand view as well as a route of passage. First to cross was the M25 proper, a few hundred yards down from the centre of this complex half-cloverleafjunction[photo]. A trio of mighty painted arrows reminded me just how huge road markings have to be so that they're legible through a speeding windscreen [photo]. And then to bridge number two, invisible from the first, across a gentle twin-lane chicane used by southbound M1 traffic attempting to join the M25 eastbound. Less busy, although still strangely picturesque in its own way [photo]. Fifty years on, even a pedestrian can sometimes appreciate the brutal beauty of our motorway network.
38, de-bendied
At Clapton Pond, a man with a brush is busy sweeping leaves and rainwater into the gutter. Hopping aboard a dry double decker feels like a very good idea, and there should be a 38 along soon now that its frequency of service has been increased. The Saturday timetable at the bus stop promises "every 3-6 minutes", but it's been 8. Several buses have passed in the opposite direction, imminently terminating at the bendy-sized bus stand in the middle of the Clapton roundabout. But it takes a while for a Victoria-bound 38 to appear, with entrance today via a single door, and we all bundle inside.
A lengthy detour through Dalston is necessary to avoid Overground-induced roadworks. By the time we reach the Balls Pond Road, half of the timetabled 44 minutes for the entire route have already elapsed. The back seat is claimed by what looks like a stereotypical group of boisterous teens, although they keep their voices down and fail to turn up their mobile R&B to maximum volume. Meanwhile an unfortunate pushchair user fails to squeeze aboard downstairs - there's far less buggy space aboard these DB300s than was the case on the former Citaros.
Nearly there. Piccadilly Circus requires a five minute detour because a brand new road improvement scheme isn't quite ready yet. The removal of certain one-way restrictions means that future 38s will be able to sail past Eros rather more directly, and then they'll enter a new two-way bus lane in Piccadilly (with bus stops planted on a narrow island in the centre of the road). We follow a Routemaster plying route 9 - a reminder of the rather more characterful double deckers that used to service the 38 in the pre-bendy era. Alas all we've gained in the last four years appears to be a bigger front window and a rear platform you can't escape from at whim.
There's been a tangible pro-military shift in public opinion of late. The army is no longer full of soldiers, but of heroes. A poppy is no longer an expression of individual conscience, but a nationwide expectation. No civilian is afforded greater importance than a bereaved parent. And woe betide anyone who causes "offence" by failing to display respectful behaviour towards Our Lads, because that's the media's new expected norm. As pride replaces honour, it's almost as if Army Worship has replaced Christianity as our new national religion.
And so ends diamond geezer's seventh annual tube week. I continue to be amazed by how much interactive interest the London Underground inspires, even amongst people who rarely or never use it, so thanks for all your comments. And I'm also surprised, every year, that I don't run out of new tube-related stuff to write about. I mean, seven years on and I still haven't written a tube week post about disused stations. Maybe next year...
Tubewatch (30) Extended Circle
Here's the official poster already appearing at tube stations. Let's check out its claims....
Tube geek (30) Interchange
Case in point. This is a section of the latest tube map showing four different central London interchange stations. Baker Street is a well-known five-line intersection, while Marylebone is an interchange to National Rail services. But the other two stations depicted here look rather different to their incarnation on the previous tube map. Paddington used to be shown as two distinct stations, with the Hammersmith & City out on a limb, but now it's only one. The H&C station remains a long (and awkward, and congested) walk from the rest, along the edge of mainline Platform 8 and up some not-really wide enough stairs. But now, to the uninitiated at least, it appears on the map like a simple and straight-forward interchange. You know, and I know, that only an idiot would change between the H&C and District lines here. But I bet that many tourists have acted like idiots at Paddington since this new map was released.
More to the point, Edgware Road. On the last tube map two quite distinct stations were depicted, one for the Bakerloo and the other for the Circle/District/H&C. No indication was given that changing to or from the Bakerloo line was possible, let alone a good idea. And now the whole thing - two stations on either side of a busy flyover - is marked as a single point of interchange. Sure you could change here, if you like a trip in a lift and a long yomp across dual carriageway sliproads. But there's no logical reason why anybody should, not when swapping at Baker Street or even Paddington is so much easier.
I had a go from Edgware Road (Circle/District/H&C) to Edgware Road (Bakerloo). There's a potentially helpful sign above the former station's exit, telling interchangers to start by finding a set of traffic lights. That's easier said than done. The aforementioned traffic lights are the wrong end of a one-way street, so not one single red amber or green light points back up the road towards the station. Only if you spot the illuminated pedestrian signals will you be certain which way to go. Turn right at M&S, past a not terribly beautiful Hilton, and thence to the Marylebone Flyover. There are pedestrian crossings now, but the only way to cross used to be via an other-worldly subway. It's very empty down here today - just a rather lonely-looking newsagents kiosk, a wholly unlikely art gallery and signs still pointing towards the "Metropolitan line". Negotiating all that lot, either above or below ground, takes at least two minutes from station to station. No fun with luggage, or a pushchair, or in pouring rain. The Bakerloo line station's gorgeous, especially the ticket hall with its green-glazed ticket windows. But with a judderingly slow lift journey still to go, this is a cross-London trek you're far better off not making.
Tube quiz (30) t-shirts
If you're looking for a Christmas present idea for the tubegeek in your life, and don't mind forking out a lot of money for a bit of white fabric, then you might consider ordering a personalised tube map t-shirt from the London Transport Museum website. Damned clever idea. You move a zoomable square around the tube map until it encloses the area you'd like to select. Then you decide whether you'd prefer a t-shirt, mug or mouse mat, and click 'create product'. The website shows you what it would look like and, should you be smitten, you can then buy it and go walking down the street with half the Victoria line on your chest. I shan't be splashing out myself, but I have had a go at creating something suitably quirky. Here's my Oxford Circus mug, here's my attempt at a more symbolic t-shirt, and here's something rather cleverer (not my idea, I'm afraid).
There used to be litter bins on tube stations, as can be deduced by anybody who visits the Bakerloo line platforms at Charing Cross. A rather splendid black and white mural of the Gunpowder Plotters was installed here 30 years ago, slap bang in the middle of which is a slot for the disposal of litter. Or at least there was. It's far too dangerous to permit such a useful facility today lest some evil passenger insert gelignite rather than an empty Ribena carton through the slot. And so the Ugly Squad have come along and bolted a featureless white rectangle over the hole, simultaneously preventing terrorism and wrecking the artwork underneath. This design aberration perfectly sums up the tube's litterbinlessness - "No you can't have a bin, and who cares how much of a mess is created as a result."
Let me illustrate this with an up-to-the-minute example of 'next train' indicator cretinousness, which is happening as we speak at Mile End station. The platforms at Mile End have been a complete dump for the last couple of years because they were mid-strip-out when Metronet collapsed and the tube upgrade programme ran out of money. Recently, finally, the station's modernisation has kicked off again, which appears to involve the construction of a suspended ceiling across the top of Mile End's cavernous platforms. It's unnervingly low, indeed so low that the ceiling is in some places lower than the top line of the existing 'next train' indicators. Which means that passengers arriving down the stairs onto the westbound Central line platform can no longer see where the next train is heading. The second train's fine, but not the first, because a metal bar at new-ceiling-height now blocks the view [enlarged photo]. Cretins, I tell you, absolute bloody cretins.
The blue shaded areas are the sections of each platform from which a 'next train' indicator can be seen. Maybe not easily, and maybe requiring a step to one side and a shuffle, but visible all the same. Good news, that's pretty much the entire length of the westbound District line platform, as well as most of the eastern half of the station (the end furthest away from the station entrance). But there's a long-term problem with the (yellow) 'Way out' signs, because they're positioned right up close to the four 'next train' indicators in the centre of each platform. They have to be there, it's Health and Safety, because everybody needs to know how to get out. But they act as an opaque shield to the destination information immediately behind, which means that the 'next train' can't be viewed from any of the areas I've shaded red. Bloody useless, but nothing new.
Took a while. I had to let five Central line trains go past before a "Woodford via Hainault" train finally rumbled along. I was taken on a circuitous route around the London borough of Redbridge, eventually rumbling across the M11 and over a river whose name you can probably guess. I was surprised that there were still as many as nine passengers in my particular tube carriage as Roding Valley station approached. But I wasn't surprised when the doors opened and I was the only person on the entire train to step out onto the platform.
Or maybe all the CCTV is a revenue protection scheme. Roding Valley is one of the few ungated stations on the tube network, meaning it's perfectly possible for the criminally-minded to slink in or out without waving an Oyster card. Instead the two entrances are protected by an enamel sign warning of a £50 penalty fare, which is a lot cheaper to install than a full-time member of staff. Incidentally these are also step-free entrances, recently enabled, meriting Roding Valley a rare wheelchair blob on the Central line tube diagram. Just be aware that it's not possible to wheel from one platform to the other via the footbridge - a 500m trek along local backstreets is required.
I needn't have worried. While I was snapping away the station manager popped over for a chat and was politeness personified. He said he'd seen somebody else taking photos of the tree-flanked platforms earlier, and wondered what the attraction was. He was also particularly keen to show me Roding Valley's unique front-of-station topiary - the hedge beside the bike rack that's been clipped and coerced into the shape of a steam locomotive. There's more than enough spare time inbetween trains for him to ensure its immaculate upkeep, and if I come back next year it might even have four new wheels. As head gardener he also maintains the station's hanging baskets, in season, and pointed out the three "second place" certificates displayed proudly on the station wall. Woodford's the local station to beat, apparently. Maybe next year.
Westminster (30); Brent (20); Camden (17); Hammersmith & Fulham, Hillingdon (15); Ealing (14); Barnet (13); Kensington & Chelsea (12); City of London (11); Harrow, Redbridge (10); Islington (9); Hounslow, Lambeth, Tower Hamlets [Essex] (8); Southwark (7); Haringey, Newham, Wandsworth (6); Barking & Dagenham, Merton, [Herts] (5); Enfield, Havering, Waltham Forest (4); [Bucks] (3); Hackney, Richmond (2); Greenwich, (1); Bexley, Bromley, Croydon, Kingston, Lewisham, Sutton (0)
Here's the Docklands chunk of the latest tube map. It's noticeably simpler than used to be the case, with no East London line replacement buses, a single-blob interchange at Canary Wharf and a slimmer-than-before curve through North Greenwich. But now this elegant layout and spacing are under threat. Look at the gaps through which the restored Thames has somehow got to weave its way. First between Rotherhithe and Wapping (squish), then bending sharply south to the left of Canary Wharf. From here it's all the way down to squeeze between Island Gardens and Cutty Sark, then all the way back up and over the top of North Greenwich before flowing right back down again. Tight fit indeed. There's always been an unwritten rule on the tube map that station names must never be written across the Thames, but I wonder if they'll have to break that this time. Or maybe those IoD DLR stations will have to be compressed even closer together... which would be far easier if (cough) all the blue accessibility blobs were removed from the map.
Time once again for diamond geezer to go totally tubular with another week devoted to the London Underground. Prepare for five days of quizzes, quirks, commentary and obscure statistics. Six years ago I looked at the busiest stations and journeys where it was quicker to walk. Five years ago I investigated tube line colours and the easiest interchanges. Four years ago I discussed overcrowding and precisely where the underground is underground. Three years I wrote about accessibility and why people never move down the platform. Two years ago I examined the agonies of Bank/Monument and taking your bike on the tube. And last year I spent the entire week wondering why 'next train' indicators are installed by cretins. I hope there's still something left to write about this year. Mind the doors.
Location: Malet Place, University College London WC1E 6BT [map]
The first short gallery, which is not entirely typical, houses fragments of carved stone. Few are wholly intact, but several slabs are carved with strip upon strip of exquisite hieroglyphics. As languages go, the Egyptian's intricate pictorial script may have been woefully inefficient (and entirely inappropriate for web-based communication), but it doesn't half look good. Another narrow gallery is located alongside, opening out into a larger space beyond, and all bursting with rammed-full glass cases. Don't expect glittering mummies and whopping sarcophagi, these tend to be much smaller more commonplace tomb-raided treasures. Votive tablets, serpentine caskets, and signet rings once worn by Nectaneto II - that sort of thing. Every item in the museum is labelled with a painted serial number plus a short written description, and here you'll find regular reference to dynasties, cartouches and "faience pendants". Ssh, try not to mention that all these objects were thieved from their country of origin by Empire-building 'collectors'.
A second, lower, gallery contains an unfeasibly high number of different kinds of pot, plus a few hundred tiles for good measure. If Egyptian earthenware is your thing then there's even a table for personal study, or alternatively where visitors under the age of 10 can colour in some pictures in crayon. One one particular wall there's a rack of torches - do take one, because the lighting's kept low throughout the museum to preserve the exhibits from permanent decay. And don't forget to check out the rear staircase, where yet more objects (including a fair number of ornamental cats and a sandstone jackal's paw) have been stashed. No space in this historical repository is underused.
Frank Winfield Woolworth opened his first UK shop in Liverpool on 5th November 1909. He'd arrived in the city by liner six months earlier, fresh from establishing a successful chain of five and dime stores in the US. The idea needed translating a bit for the English market (thruppence and sixpence were the initial prices charged over here) but Frank's underlying raison d'être remained the same. Buy quality in bulk, pile it high, and they will come. And so they did, to 25 Church Street that Friday morning, to see what lay behind the curved glass frontage. "The handsome premises were thronged the whole time they were open," reported the local paper on the day of opening, even though not a single item was sold. American tradition dictated that day 1 was for viewing only, although visitors were also treated to complimentary tea in the refreshment room and a variety of circus acts. A bit gaudy, thought some, but Liverpool loved FWW and stripped the shelves bare. Within five years another 40 stores had opened across the country, and a retail empire was born.
And so today there'll be centenary celebrations in Woolworths stores across the nation. Bunting will flap, brass bands will play, and there'll be special merchandise at Edwardian prices... except, damn, no there won't. Woolworths spontaneously combusted earlier this year and now exists only as an insignificant online brandname. What a pity that Frank's company didn't live long enough to still be trading today, and maybe even receive a special telegram from the Queen.
Junction 5: Berrygrove
Meriden Estate
Junction 6: Waterdale
A sudden fence corralled me alongside the southbound M1, a mere stone's throw away, then down to an unexpected viewpoint beneath a stack of three intersecting overpasses [photo]. As the traffic sped by, both above and below, I felt like an insignificant infidel encroaching into the heart of an automotive temple. But don't knock the power of the pedestrian "right of way". The Department of Transport has had to construct a traversable route through and across this multi-lane canyon, resulting in a pair of narrow footbridges suspended higher than the tops of the lampposts below. These bridges can't be used by more than a couple of pairs of walking boots each day, but they provided an excellent grandstand view as well as a route of passage. First to cross was the M25 proper, a few hundred yards down from the centre of this complex half-cloverleaf junction [photo]. A trio of mighty painted arrows reminded me just how huge road markings have to be so that they're legible through a speeding windscreen [photo]. And then to bridge number two, invisible from the first, across a gentle twin-lane chicane used by southbound M1 traffic attempting to join the M25 eastbound. Less busy, although still strangely picturesque in its own way [photo]. Fifty years on, even a pedestrian can sometimes appreciate the brutal beauty of our motorway network.
