diamond geezer

 Friday, June 22, 2018

Yesterday the Mayor of London launched "a new online property portal that offers Londoners a one-stop shop where they can search for an affordable home to buy in the capital."
n.b. It actually went live in April, but it launched yesterday.
n.b. Further phases of the portal will launch later this year.


"The portal aims to help Londoners who can’t afford to buy a home on the open market, with all homes funded through City Hall affordable housing programmes being advertised on the site and new properties being continually added."
n.b. This isn't for people who read the Evening Standard's Wednesday supplement. This is for people who can't get onto the housing ladder without a leg-up. That's a lot of people.

"The Homes for Londoners portal already lists over 1,400 shared ownership and 230 Help to Buy properties."
n.b. Yes, this is a drop in the ocean. No, it's not even a significant fraction of the 12,526 genuinely affordable homes started last year. But it's better than no portal.

So I thought I'd interrogate the portal to see what it could tell me. Here's a haphazard list of findings.

How many housing developments are included?
About 350. The number increased from below 350 to above 350 yesterday. Several of the developments include more than one property. Others are merely a single pre-owned flat.

Where are they?
Here's a map.



As you can see, they're not all in London. I've cropped out the pins in Tunbridge Wells, Maidstone, Hatfield and a small village near Stansted Airport. I'm not sure why developers outside the capital are being allowed to jump on the Mayor's bandwagon.

As you can see, some parts of London have more properties than others. The London boroughs of Richmond, Kingston, Redbridge and Havering only have 2 apiece, Bexley has 3, Sutton 4, Hillingdon 5, Bromley and Enfield and Barking & Dagenham 6, and Barnet 8. Outer London appears to be appallingly represented.

What's the cheapest?
Annoyingly, if you search for the cheapest property, the list includes all those with "price TBC", some of which look really expensive. I can only find three properties in London for less than £200,000. One's a 30 year-old flat in Thornton Heath for £195,000. One's for over-55s only in Mitcham. And the cheapest is a 1-bedroom flat in Bedfont, two miles from the nearest station, for £170,000. Don't all fight for it.

What's the most expensive?
The website says it's a 1-bedroom flat in North Harrow, for £2,502,222, but that's because there's an incorrect value in the database. As for the £895,000 house in Cricklewood, that's already reserved. As for the £850,000 property "in the old iconic St Ann's police station" near Seven Sisters station, I believe that's been sold. Which leaves this £817,000 2-bed apartment at West View Battersea at the top of the pile. Seriously, how much?

How is any of this affordable?
Shared ownership, that's how. You don't have to buy that West View Battersea home outright, you can buy 25% for £204,375. That sounds almost doable. The catch is that you'd need a "guidance household income between £72,869 - £90,000 per annum... plus savings of £40,875", and hey presto the whole thing's wilfully unaffordable again.

No really, how is any of this affordable?
Shared ownership, but you don't buy the most expensive property, obviously. How about a 2-bedroom flat at Weavers Quarter in Barking? It'd be £255,000 to buy outright, but a 30% share could be yours for just £76,500. Or a 2-bedroom flat back out in Bedfont, where 35% of £260,000 works out at just £91,000. They're a lot more promising. But because you have to pay a share of the mortgage and a chunk of rent, not to mention a monthly service charge, they still require "a guidance income of £37,000", which is well above the average wage.

Any good properties anywhere?
Blimey, a ground floor studio flat at the iconic Isokon Flats? A 50% share for only £200,000? That's many people's dream home. This isn't quite what I was expecting on here.

What about somewhere a bit more ordinary?
I thought I'd search my home postcode of E3. What's available on my doorstep? Nine properties.
» £108,750 for a 25% share of a 1-bed flat on St Paul's Way.
» £112,500 for a 25% share of a 3-bed flat at Bow River Village (or £165,000 for a 30% share) (or £200,750 for a 50% share of a 1-bed flat)
» £120,000 for a 25% share of a 2 bed apartment for the over 55's, overlooking Bromley by Bow station.
» £137,500 for a 25% share of a 2-bed flat on Fish Island.
» £201,250 for a 35% share of a 2-bed apartment not quite overlooking Victoria Park.
» £272,250 for a 55% share of a 2-bed flat down Devons Road way.
» Something not yet launched on St Paul's Way, all prices TBC.

What else can you find on the portal?
Have a dig. Take a look for yourself.

But it's not a lot, is it?
London has 2.4 million renters. This portal doesn't yet have 1500 properties. And most of the renters couldn't afford most of the properties anyway. The portal's a start. But unless you have the good fortune to be able to grab one of the handful of so-called bargains, the concept of affordability remains an unattainable dream.

 Thursday, June 21, 2018

A new section of the Thames Path has opened between Woolwich and the Thames Barrier. Previously, because of an industrial estate, the path had to track inland to the busy Woolwich Road. The industrial estate is still there, but a public right of way now passes through, with a couple of ramps to make the necessary connections at either end. It's good news.



Heading west along the Thames from Woolwich, there's always been a point where you had to divert into a housing estate. It wasn't quite at the end of the housing estate either, so missing the turn meant doubling back, then meandering awkwardly to escape. The new ramp is a godsend, launching off from the end of the promenade, then nudging out above the river to negotiate its way round the back of a large industrial unit. Most of the £1.5m spent on the new connection will have been splashed here, I'll bet.



The connection has two groups of users in mind - those on bikes, and those on foot. The ramp's fairly gentle, so easily negotiable even by a bicycling child of primary school age. A motorised wheelchair'd cope adequately too. For those not speeding through, the ramp doubles up as a novel viewing platform, both across the river towards the Tate & Lyle sugar refinery and upstream towards the Thames Barrier. Looking down into the backyard of Evolution Car Spares and Brokk Specialist Hire is somewhat less enthralling.



After a quick bend inland the ramp descends at the far end of Warspite Road. It's only a brief intervention, 100 metres tops, but it dramatically improves access and shows the power of imagination combined with hard cash. The 'Missing Link' was being well used on its first afternoon too, not just by the cycling fraternity keen to unwrap their latest present, but also by local families with pushchairs, and quite possibly folk with the good luck to turn up on Day One who never realised there was a gap here before.



As you may have spotted, the new link is part of Q14, or Quietway 14. This is one of a network of backroad routes sketched out across the capital, aimed at directing cyclists away from busy traffic. As such, I have to say the signage for cyclists is better than that for pedestrians, as it often involves keeping an eye out for the next big arrow painted in the road. A case in point is the sharp right turn partway down Warspite Road, which I saw at least two people cycle past, having missed the small arrowed sign on a lamppost above some shrubbery.



I'd also like to note, with horror, that Q14 westbound is signed towards somewhere called "Greenwich Peninsular". There is no such place, not even in the fevered imaginations of the apartment floggers overlooking the O2. A peninsula is a tongue of land mostly surrounded by water, whereas peninsular is the related adjective and has no place here. Either whoever commissioned the signs can't spell, which is a possibility, or they genuinely believe that's what the area is called, which is perhaps worse. Whatever the reason, it's not a good look.



The next stretch is longer, and follows what used to be a dead end gated road on the Mellish Industrial Estate. A run of old brick warehouses runs down either side, the kind of workaday environment which keeps many a southeast Londoner in employment, in a variety of mostly manual or creative tasks... metalwork, ceramics, conservation, stained glass, a climbing wall, even a circus academy and Chinese Arts Centre. Until yesterday the workforce had this backwater to themselves, and now they have the public freely walking or wheeling through.



There's no pavement as such, only a painted strip of tarmac, in places made safer by the plonking of poles. If you like past-its-sell-by-date architecture it's a bit of a privilege to be here. The long decrepit building at the western end of Bowater Road is a particular treat, though now vacant and barriered off, so it should come as no surprise that a developer has big plans for the area. "A new creative-style urban quarter for South-East London" is on the cards, "delivering 400 residential units and creative workspace units, complemented by new public area and landscaped grounds." Come visit before they do that.



At the western end, a curving ramp provides the new access point, thereby opening up the estate. The entrance will be locked between 9pm and 6am, with anyone travelling at other times being directed via the previous circuitous detour. I spotted bunting above the gateway, so I suspect this is the point where The Mayor of London's Walking and Cycling Commissioner and Greenwich Council's Cabinet Member for Air Quality, Public Realm and Transport performed the official opening ceremony yesterday afternoon.



I'm not a cyclist, so I can't confirm the excellence or otherwise of the new missing link. I can, however, tell you what I heard cyclists saying as they rode past. "Bad gate!" said one, at the foot of Bowater Road. "Saucy!" said another, riding along the raised Thamesside platform for the first time. Meanwhile, in the largest cluster of Day One cyclists gathered to pick over everything they'd seen, the most animated gentleman was pointing at the ground and bemoaning "but there won't be any lines to show whose priority it is!" He had a look of the unsatisfiable about him.



And all of this joins up to the existing Thames Path round the back of the Thames Barrier. Not along the actual waterfront, but pushed further back inland, and linking upstream of the barrier via a freshly-scrubbed curving track. You can still see the chalk lines where the stencil application team aligned their lettering. From here it's 180 miles to the source of the Thames, if the fancy takes you. But if all you want is a walk or ride along the industrial estuarine river, the journey just got a fraction shorter, and a whole lot more interesting.

 Wednesday, June 20, 2018



I take a book and find a bench in my local park. Several are already occupied, one by a dozing pensioner, another by a man clutching a lager can. I'm sure he's the same man who asked me for 50p outside the supermarket yesterday. I find a clear space at the far end, on a bench that doesn't look like too many birds have flown over it. An overhanging branch will shield me partially from the blazing sunshine, during the intermittent periods when there is any.

The ground around the bench is scattered with fag ends and discarded plastic. Were I carrying out a survey, Boost Energy drinks would be the most popular throwaway, followed by bottles of smartwater and Lucozade Sport, accompanied by a broad selection of empty cups. In the shrubbery, an empty carrier bag hints that much of the litter comes from the local minimarket, with the drinks on special offer selling best.

A small brown bird hops into the flowerbed in front of me. The roses are evidently past their prime, or perhaps the council haven't been coming round to water them often enough during this dry spell. A magpie screeches, hidden somewhere within the branches of the central lime tree, then flies away. The lavender bushes are thick with bright flowers, and bobbing with bees. Turns out I had no need to go all the way to the edge of Sutton for perfect purple.

On nearby grass, a woman sits crosslegged squinting into her smartphone, then whips out a cigarette and focuses on that instead. She doesn't stay long. Another younger woman arrives and rests briefly on the adjacent bench, addressing her invisible courtiers by phone. To my right a red-faced man turns up with a Lakeland bag, takes out a crinkled magazine and flicks through. He places a newspaper beside him, then un-Velcros his sandals. He's here for the long haul.

Planes taking off from City Airport whine overhead, heard before they are seen. At times they pass over every three minutes, at other times the intermission is considerably longer. A more intrusive noise comes from the building site behind me where a further set of infill apartments is under construction. Something is being repeatedly sawn, something is being occasionally lifted, and the voices of men up a ladder on the second floor periodically intrude.

Butterflies dart around the flower beds. I spy ants on the tarmac beneath my bench, and crawling up it too. Someone yells "come on darling" shrilly behind the brick perimeter wall, and I toss up whether they're addressing a child or a pet. Eventually three very small dogs emerge through the archway, followed by a pair of women entirely dissimilar in height, width and hair colour. The sun comes out. The sun goes in.

An old man shuffles out onto his ground floor patio, resident in a flat which didn't exist a few years ago. He moves towards the railings and starts scraping mossy gunk out from underneath, then flicking it into the corner of the park. An upturned clothes horse rests on the balcony above, and above that a smart bicycle, propped against the handrail. At the other end of the development, as yet incomplete, every window is concealed behind unpeeled blue sheeting.

The latest arrival on the overshadowed bench to my left is a young lad with a lanyard round his neck. He whips out a cigarette paper and something to fill it with, then spends some considerable time inserting one into the other. The remainder of his break he spends smoking, and checking his phone, before heading back to work the way he came. Sammy the golden retriever enters soon after, ahead of a lady out exercising more dogs than she could surely own herself.

On the other side of the floral beds a podgy man in a grey hoodie and a dirty t-shirt is stood in a corner where he thinks he can't be seen, relieving himself into the shrubbery. The sound of sawing from the building site increases. A child rides by on the back of their mum's pushchair. The red-faced man on the bench to my right reaches deep into his bag for a can of Coke, then makes a start on his newspaper. A breeze whips up, and the pages flick by.

As World Cup kickoff time approaches, a young man in a baseball cap walks by clutching two bottles of beer in each fist. I can tell the match has begun when some overanimated exclamations, in what's likely to be Polish, start to emerge from a flat down the far end. Only one balcony owner has made an effort with hanging baskets and window boxes. A fly lands on my sleeve. Birdsong is briefly audible. Two pigeons promenade round the flower beds, then soar away.

Another young man arrives on the most popular bench, and sets down a bottle of Boost Energy drink by his feet. He checks his phone. He twiddles lovingly with his cigarette papers. He flicks his lighter several times. Then his friend turns up, similarly equipped, and they kickstart an extended ritual of filling, rolling, tapping and (eventually) igniting their leafy stash. Every step of the process is laboured, as if auditioning for the Great British Spliff Off.

A light shower of fluff and leafy bits is falling from the tree above me. A blackbird hops through a carpet of shrivelled rose petals. The red-faced man has moved onto his giant crossword. It sounds like Senegal have scored again. On the lawn, a dad lifts his small daughter up so her mother can take photos. Something on the building site drops with a clunk. Two particularly hard-looking lads in hoodies appear to be sitting where the fat-bellied man relieved himself.

The twin tokers are now onto their second roll-up, and eventually their third. Great care is being taken to share ingredients, and pat down the contents, and keep the paper tubes burning. It looks like these guys' lighters are getting a hell of a workout. Occasionally one has a video clip he wants to share with the other, but mainly they're here for a prolonged chat and a smoke - very much the old fashioned way of keeping entertained.

I fear I'm now lingering in the park solely to check whether these two will abandon their plastic bottles when they depart. They look like regulars, and they've brought the precise two brands which form most of the park's litter, and definitive evidence would confirm my unspoken narrative. But neither of them budge. Not to worry. I've been making the most of my two hours sitting here, in mostly-peace and almost-quiet, which has allowed me to read from chapter 29 to chapter 77.

Finally the two stoners stop smoking, and simply sit there, yabbering on. The more studious of the pair then whips out an aerosol and sprays himself on the neck, on his hands, and across his jacket. He evidently doesn't want any of the noses back at home to uncover his dirty little afternoon secret. Suitably camouflaged, the two wander off... taking their bottles with them. I suspect other users of the bench are not so careful. The park ticks over. The park welcomes all.

 Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Random Station: WOODMANSTERNE
London Borough of Croydon
Southern, zone 6
Hinterland: 3.6km²


The village of Woodmansterne is in Surrey, but its station lies quarter of a mile inside London, which is how I've managed to randomly select it. Its hinterland covers a slice of the Chipstead Valley west of Coulsdon, and spreads uphill into the borough of Sutton. On the right day it's delightful, and yesterday was the right day. Here are 12 local delights peaking, I think you'll agree, with number nine.

Four from the London borough of Croydon

Woodmansterne station



Nobody would consider building the Tattenham Corner line today, linking leafy estates and green belt, but the commuters of the Surrey fringe (and local estate agents) greatly value its presence. Woodmansterne station sits in the notch of the dry valley between Coulsdon Town and Chipstead, a single island platform accessed via a key community-linking footbridge. It also retains a ticket office opposite the entrance, despite seeing fewer passengers than every single Underground station (although I don't believe it stays open until midnight any more, as the notice outside claims).

Coulsdon West



The suburbs flanking the hills overlooking the station are more Coulsdon than Woodmansterne. Avenues of half-timbered semis climb steeply to rows of Dulux white detacheds, a bit like Metroland but with proper contours. Ocado and Asda vans ply the slopes. Brightly-blazered children caper home after school. The local nailbar is sandwiched between a bike shop and The Smugglers Inn Free House. The newspaper of choice outside the Londis on Chipstead Valley Road, always a good social indicator, is The Times.

Mother Kitty's



If a website ever claims to have a definitive list of London's Most Hidden Secret Cafes, and doesn't include Mother Kitty's, they are wrong. Potential diners first have to find Rickman Hill Recreation Ground, the last greenspace in Croydon before the road goes private, then think to walk round the blind corner to where the changing rooms used to be. Lara's done up the interior as a vintage cafe and soft play space, named after the adjacent woodland, where parents can soak marshmallows in coffee while their littl'uns romp. As for the "sandwitches" offered on the chalkboard outside, I'm just about willing to believe they were a Hallowe'en treat, never erased.

Cane Hill



The Third Surrey Pauper Lunatic Asylum opened on a hill above Coulsdon in 1883, and soon had 2000 patients. As Cane Hill Hospital it survived until the 1990s, after which the buildings were emptied, left to fall into dereliction and then either demolished or lost to arson. Today it's being reborn as Cane Hall Park, a collection of three, four and five bedroom Barratt homes, an ideal stockholder bolthole sweeping down towards Coulsdon South station. The Woodmansterne side is part of the final phase, as yet utility-free, barriered off and covered with piles of sand.

Four from the Surrey borough of Reigate and Banstead

The Midday Sun



Just beyond the rail bridge, this longstanding pub is now a lacklustre eatery from the Hungry Horse chain. Expect white van drinkers, chip-shovelling families, two-for-one burger Fridays and, if you come on the first Monday in July, a full-on Psychic Experience. The 166 bus used to terminate outside, and still circles round to pull in beside the little wooden shelter, like it's 1970, before continuing on its way.

Woodmansterne



What a lovely little village Woodmansterne is. Set round a crossroads on a hill, it manages to support a parish church, a primary school and, somehow, a fish and chip shop called the Codfather. It even merits two convenience stores, although the second hand golf club shop is a bit niche, and the wellness clinic has folded. I'm also willing to bet that The Woodman pub is the best local in the catchment area, especially if you're a dog. All this and three Oyster-enabled buses an hour to the proper shops, it's a true Surrey sanctuary.

Woodmansterne village sign



I particularly love the village sign, not your usual heraldic rectangle, but gouged from the wood of a felled tree trunk on the green. The villagers love their open spaces, this being a tiny corner of the much larger Woodmansterne Recreation Ground, opposite a pristine cricket ground, round the corner from the Walcountian Blues Lacrosse Club, the Old Walcountians Rugby Club and the Purley Walcountians Hockey Club. "New members of any standard are afforded a very warm welcome."

Woodmansterne Community Garden



Just past the scout hut, a little wooden gate leads into the haven of a community garden. The Residents' Association, the Women's Institute and a local aggregates company helped put it together. The shrubbery in the formal garden is currently peaking, while the pond looks like it's disgorged its frogs and the orchard awaits autumn. And I mention this not because you ought to visit, but because there are always little treasures to discover when you're out exploring.

Four from the London borough of Sutton

Mayfield Lavender Farm



Hell yes. For nine months a year this is just a big field, but in mid-June it bursts into gorgeous purple, and the cameraphones of the world descend. Only the lavender planted in the central section is on the turn at the moment, but for those who have come to walk, kneel and nestle that's sufficient for a whole gallery of carefully composed selfies. I can't top this post I wrote about the place three years ago, except to say maybe wait a couple more weeks (and if you enter via the public footpath you won't be asked to pay the £2 entrance fee). [12 photos]

The Oaks



Immediately across the road was The Oaks estate, now a municipal park, but originally home to the Earl of Derby. He gave his name to the most famous race at Epsom, and his estate gave its name to the second. You'll not find his mansion here now, the Second World War did for that, but its outline is marked by a white line in the grass beyond the bakehouse. Today's visitors can enjoy a stroll through the walled garden or a cooked breakfast from the Tea Rooms, although the walls of the latter are adorned with pugs in tiaras, so maybe best eat outside.

Little Woodcote



North of Woodmansterne, 79 semi-detached weatherboarded cottages were built on former lavender fields in 1920 to provide smallholdings and employment for soldiers returned from the war. Somehow they've survived, if mostly no longer used for their original purpose, although some are still occupied by families scraping a living off the land by selling logs, hiring out horses or flogging cuttings from polytunnels. Anyone who's walked London Loop section 6 will have passed by (although for the full-on oppressive Little Woodcote experience you need to take the Telegraph Track to Carshalton).

Clockhouse



Sutton's most isolated estate is bolted onto Coulsdon, and named after the farm it replaced. Economically it's going downhill, with the Jack and Jill pub closed unexpectedly last month, and the sole shop left trading in the parade an unbranded convenience store. I headed for Big Wood in the far corner, Sutton's largest wooded area, tempted by the promise of fine views over London. But poor signposting by the entrance almost led me up the drive of a shack with dogs running free, then I met an unaccompanied staffie by the non-exit into a private sports ground, and basically I couldn't get out of Big Wood quickly enough. Mercifully Woodmansterne station was a brief stroll downhill, for a quick getaway.

 Monday, June 18, 2018

During excavations for the construction of Bucklersbury House in 1954, an ancient Roman temple was uncovered. Initially archaeologists weren't quite sure what it was, but on the last day of the dig they uncovered a marble head wearing a conical cap, confirmimg that this was a temple to the god Mithras. This being the austere fifties, people queued round the block to see the remains, which were later shifted to the roadside off Queen Victoria Street. And here the temple remained, increasingly unloved, until financial company Bloomberg decided to return it to its original location, several metres beneath their new office block.



The London Mithraeum is the result, a very 21st century take on some 3rd century brickwork, tucked away in a corporate basement in the heart of the City. It opened last November, to another onslaught of visitors, but the initial rush has now died down sufficiently to allow me to walk in off the street rather than having to book ahead. The street you have to walk in off is Walbrook, between Bank and Cannon Street stations, immediately alongside the still-not-yet-finished Waterloo & City line entrance. Entry is free, which is one advantage of the landowner being a rich American corporation.



The reception desk is a tiny lectern - very much like walking into a posh restaurant - where a frothily exuberant guide was waiting to greet me. He didn't even ask if I'd pre-booked, just bubbled about the space and the museum and the art gallery, then offered me a printed guide and a Samsung tablet. He was particularly animated about the art exhibit which currently fills the ground floor space, a bunch of vinyl-plastered walls portraying portmanteau historical facades, which the blurb describes as a "uniquely immersive installation". He led me through it in fifteen seconds flat, which felt sufficient.



The chief ground floor attraction is a Roman Artefact display, incorporating 600 items uncovered during the latest rebuild. The site is particularly rich in Roman remains because it lies beside the lost river Walbrook, which kept the soil moister than most, preserving stuff better. The objects are arranged inside a single glass case, in precise correspondence to the graphic on the tablet handed over earlier. To identify each item just touch what you're interested in, then swipe to read a description of what it is. Coins, brooches, comb, pots, nails, a wooden oar, crucible and tongs, writing tablet, etc, etc. It's very clever, but time consumingly manipulative, so scanning through everything isn't really an option.



In good news, non-visitors can explore exactly the same display at case.londonmithraeum.com. In bad news, the site is optimised for users of tablets and smartphones, so laptop users may end up wishing to throttle the too-clever-by-half website designers.

When you're done, head downstairs (or there's a lift, if you prefer). The lower level is a waiting area to keep visitors semi-occupied before venturing into the Mithraeum proper. A new 'temple experience' begins every 20 minutes, so you might be waiting here for a while. Thankfully there are seats, plus a rolling archaeological commentary delivered by the ubiquitous Joanna Lumley. Three visitors at a time can use a trio of touchscreen terminals to explore more about the history of the dig, and the temple, and the religion behind it. We don't know for certain what rituals were enacted here, but we do know they were for men only, and that initiation into the cult probably involved wine, tattoos and chicken. Little changes.



At the appropriate time, expect to be ushered down some more steps and into a dark rectangular room. A walkway leads all round the perimeter, while a glass-edged platform juts over the centre of the temple at one end. Word of advice, the end of the platform is the best vantage point after the wall of eerie mist descends. Expect a lot of chanting, in Latin, rather than any attempt at explaining what it is you're looking at... and the experience is all the better for it.

Eventually, incrementally, the lights go up, and you can take a walk round the outside. Most of what you're seeing is what was actually dug up back in 1954, then relocated, then returned to whence it came. The main points of interest are a square well in one corner, and a couple of steps leading up to a raised platform where the altar used to be. I've seen more interesting Roman remains in London, to be fair, hence the necessary focus on a theatrical presentation. Indeed the majority of the group I went in with departed the temple space long before the allotted twenty minutes were up.



And the reason the London Mithraeum is a mostly virtual experience is that all the best finds were carted off to the Museum of London. Its director led the original dig, so to see the bust of Mithras in his Phrygian cap you need to visit the museum over near Barbican and head to the back of the Roman gallery. Here too are Minerva and Mercury, and a stunning marble frieze depicting Mithras slaying a bull, which would have formed a focus of worship in the temple. Two heavenly twins stand to either side, the signs of the zodiac spin round the rim, and a scorpion is making a grab for the bull's testicles. What a cult.



But closed on Mondays, sorry.

 Saturday, June 16, 2018

Purple is happening.



Yesterday was the Farringdon station Open Day, an opportunity for a few fast-fingered members of the public to descend into the actual station where actual Crossrail trains will be actually running in less than six actual months time. We had to enter down the fire escape. By the time you get here, the escalators should be finished.



This is the western ticket hall. Those escalators lead down from the Thameslink ticket hall, at ground level, while behind the stairs will be a direct connection to platform 4. The diamond pattern on the sloping concrete roof is a nod to the station's close proximity to Hatton Garden. Simon Periton's diamante artwork continues around the walls.



Arriving passengers will be funnelled to the rear of the ticket hall where they'll have to double back to join the escalators down to the platform. The back wall doesn't have diamonds on it, so I fear will be the ideal location for an enormous advertising screen, which nobody heading on or off the escalators would be able to miss.



These three escalators will be the transition between the bespoke Farringdon up top, and the generic Crossrail platforms down below. All the lower levels at the central stations will be looking very much like this, so best get used to it.



This is the central concourse between the platforms. At some stations it'll go all the way along, but here at Farringdon it stops after a couple of side tunnels. Something similar happens up the far end, linking to Barbican tube station, but we weren't allowed that far along.



The central concourse is broad and clear with panelled concrete walls, including a layer above head height with spotty indentations. There are no sharp corners here, only softly contoured curves. Here at Farringdon the signage urges departing passengers to walk down to the second entrance, so that arrivals can pour out through the first.



The totem pole signage is unusual, or at least it is to us now, but expect to see it at every central Crossrail station. The elegant symmetry is perhaps an architectural nod towards classic tube stations like Gants Hill. Directions for incoming passengers are on the pole, and directions for outgoing passengers are on the arms.



And yes, the two Crossrail platforms at Farringdon won't be numbered, they'll be labelled A and B. I've seen exactly the same labelling at Custom House, again with A for eastbound and B for westbound, so I suspect this lettering of platforms may be a cross-Crossrail thing.



All the signs are up, including the roundels on the platform, a Legible London map to guide you towards the correct exit, and the "Way Out" arrows pointing to either Farringdon or Barbican. Even the line diagrams are in place, despite the fact the routes they show won't be fully operational until the end of 2019.



What really struck me was the vivid purple colour, apparently tweaked to match the precise colour of the Queen's outfit when she came to open the line. We've not seen this shade on the tube before, so it really stands out. Look at all these interchange connections that'll be possible for the first time. Look very specifically at Tottenham Court Road. Spotted it?



Intriguingly the line diagrams installed at Farringdon have failed to include the Central line connection at Tottenham Court Road. Have the designers messed up? Or is this a deliberate concealment to discourage passengers from changing trains at Tottenham Court Road and nudge them on to Bond Street instead. I suspect the latter. But be it error or white lie, it's not a good look.



And then there are the platforms. The tracks are hidden behind long glass walls, a bit like the Jubilee line on steroids. Doors will open when the trains arrive, and adverts may or may not appear on the panels inbetween. I think the Next Train Indicators are going along the top.



The platforms are very long, but we were restricted to one end. The fitting out didn't look particularly finished elsewhere, almost as if they'd got our end ready first so it would look good on Open Day. But six months should be long enough to get the remaining walls ready, and all the other stations finished, and the trains tested, and everything, probably. Just don't expect to be getting down Bond Street for an Open Day any time soon. [13 photos]

 Friday, June 15, 2018

As London evolves, an increasing number of locations are being recreated as pseudo-public spaces. One of these is the 67 acre development at King's Cross, to the north of the station, where former industrial land is being transformed into a new city quarter. As part of this rebirth the development company are keen to encourage the rest of us to see the new King's Cross as a coherent whole, and to position it on our radar for future activity.

One way they're doing this is by offering a King's Cross DIY Walking Tour, which you can skim through on your smartphone (or download an out-of-date version here). I walked a circuit to see what the places chosen and locations visited might reveal about the future of life and leisure in modern London. To be fair, I think the opening paragraph pretty much gave the game away.

"King’s Cross is an extraordinary piece of London; a diverse and exciting destination with places to work, shop, be entertained and call home."
1) King’s Cross Visitor Centre: Behind the closed front door of the so-called visitor centre is a mostly empty foyer, and a receptionist dressed to impress. I bet she hopes visitors have come to enquire about restaurants or property, rather than circling once round the 3D model and walking away with some free literature.
The tour suggested: "Why not grab a coffee or some lunch at Dishoom or Spiritland nextdoor?" Because I've just started a walking tour, that's why... and because a salt beef sandwich with gherkin and English mustard would set me back £9.50.



2) Lewis Cubitt Square: I was promised a piazza which, "in warmer months, hosts evening concerts, festivals and weekend markets". I got an empty rectangle, adjacent to a building site, where a naked toddler ran through the fountains chased by a dog. Despite it being June, no events are scheduled for the rest of the month.

3) Everyman on the Corner: My smartphone led me to a "bespoke-designed, 32 seat cinema", which was shut, with no information whatsoever outside to tell me what might be showing and when.
The tour suggested: "If you don't have time now, pop back and take in the latest hand-picked films from the comfort of a sofa". Of course I don't have time now, this is stop number 3 on a walking tour. Also, I never ever want to go to a cinema where it's the done thing to hail a waitress mid-film to order guacamole and a bottle of prosecco.

4) Lewis Cubitt Park: Modern developers' idea of a "park" appears to be a rectangle of turf between apartments, where those whose balconies face the wrong way can come down and sprawl in appropriate weather.
The tour suggested: "Head up to the viewing platform and take in the view." The view was of a semi-obscured lawn whose outdoor pool has been removed, a lot of towers, and a backlot with some bins. The top of the viewing platform was so quiet that a couple were making out on the decking, wholly unimpressed that an actual viewer had turned up.



5) The Global Generation Skip Garden: That's a garden full of skips, not an outdoor gymnasium of some kind. The skips are brimming with herbs and other plants, and surrounded by a collection of artfully ramshackle buildings. In one, I saw some office types watching a Powerpoint presentation about "co-creation", "fire exits" and "public realm", the poor sods.
The tour suggested: "You can sample delicious food, grown and prepared in the garden." I passed on beetroot soup and a roll for £5, and a lot of salads, but this was the most interesting location so far.

6) Platform Theatre: A niche theatre is part of the cultural offering of any upstart urban destination. This one's attached to Central St Martins nextdoor. Alas, the place was closed, with zero information out front, and it turned out the next events were two weeks away.

7) Handyside Gardens: Passing through a gate, I found a thin sliver of raised beds and play equipment where various local parents were occupying their offspring. I also found the developer's estate agent's window, flogging apartments for scary amounts per week.
The tour suggested: "The historic train shed to the right is now home to a Waitrose store, cookery school and cafe." A deliberate refocusing on commercial activity rather than heritage? That's new King's Cross pretty much summed up.



8) Wharf Road Gardens: This canalside strip, with raised grass beds, has an air of artificiality about it.
The tour suggested: "Watch this video and learn about a brand new part of the King's Cross neighbourhood." This is a new abomination in digitally delivered walking tours - the in-app video which turns out to be a lengthy plug for how fabulous living here would be. Battersea Power Station do exactly the same thing on their app, coincidentally also at stop 8.
The tour also suggested: "While you're here, kick back on the grass with an ice cream from Ruby Violet." Ruby Violet is a £3-per-scoop ice cream vendor. I'm sure it's good stuff, but King's Cross isn't for the financially challenged.

9) House of Illustration: Ah, Quentin Blake's intelligent repository of drawing-related exhibitions. It's £8.25, if you're nipping in.

10) The Lighterman: A canalside pub with a slightly prefabricated feel, and split level balconies to keep the dining crowd separate from mere drinkers. Don't expect to wander inside without being given the once-over by the door staff.
The tour suggested: "If you have time to stop for a bite on your way round, this would be a good moment." Who stops for food halfway round a hour-long walk? This tour seems obsessed with nudging visitors into a restaurant.



11) Canalside Steps: These astroturfed steps have been here ever since the N1C postcode was freshly minted. A lot of people now "take a break and watch the boats go by", many of them students from Central St Martins up top, but rightly popular with everyone else too.

12) Camley Street Natural Park: This is easily the best free thing to do round here, although it predates the King's Cross development, and some of it is currently closed. Maybe that's why the walking tour doesn't want you to visit it, merely see it from the towpath on the other side of the canal, from which there is no direct connection.



13) Gasholder No 8: Ah, the "iconic" wrought iron form of a Victorian gasholder, which the developers were forced to keep so they turned it into a park. Again "park" means a patch of grass, in this case surrounded by benches beneath a shiny canopy, but the overall effect here is pretty impressive. You could do worse than rest awhile.

14) Gasholders London: Except the real reason we've come out this far is to see some flats. The Gasholders development sees three blocks of very expensive apartments each shoehorned inside a cylindrical skeleton, indeed some are already occupied, with self-satisfied residents looking down at you from on high.
The tour suggested: First they autoplayed a minute-long video, in which some architects were quite smug, and then they directed me to the sales website in case I was wealthy enough to be able to afford one of the 145 luxury hutches.

15) The Plimsoll Building: Another shameless plug, this time for a thirteen storey "world class residential experience". Their website says "Contact us if you are interested in buying an investment property, a London pied à terre or a new build apartment you can call home", as a hint to the overall unaffordability.



16) Granary Square: We've been here already, but this time the tour focuses on the 1000 fountains. A security guard will probably be watching should you consider a mild frolic.

17) The Granary Building: Allegedly this old warehouse is "the heart of historic King's Cross", or at least that's what the developers' marketing team would like you to now believe. They have done a bloody good job of renovating it, however, and the art college inside is second to none.

18) Restaurants at Granary Square: The tour's dining obsession continues, namechecking a coffee shop, a tea shop, a bistro, and exactly the same two eateries they plugged back at stop 1. A salt beef sandwich with gherkin and English mustard still costs £9.50.



19) Coal Drops Yard: Expect Time Out and the Evening Standard to simultaneously orgasm when this place opens in October. A new shopping destination is arriving, its focus on fashion, craft and culture, with "a mix of iconic brands and artisan shops". Coal Drops Yard will be vast, and out of your price bracket, targeted more at the Putney and Kensington set, or those with a nearby penthouse to fit out. I expect it to do brilliantly.
The tour confesses: "Designed by Heatherwick Studio, the group responsible for the Olympic Cauldron and London’s new Routemaster buses." Best not mention the Garden Bridge debacle, eh?

20) Gasholders Sales Gallery: Hang on what? We're being directed out of our way, along the canal, to "discuss available apartments" in a glitzy prefab? But if you do yomp out to see it, you'll discover the Sales Gallery is now closed. How long, I wonder, since this online tour was updated?

21) KERB: Likewise, the viewing platform at the top of King's Boulevard, which the tour now urges you to climb, has long been removed. They've also got the wrong location for the twice weekly KERB streetfood market, which is now held three times a week, indeed should we be trusting anything this placemaking tour is trying to say?

22) King's Boulevard: Here we're invited to look beyond the hoardings to see Google's new groundscraper going up. There's still nothing to see.

23) NIKE Central King's Cross: The tour is now shamelessly store-dropping, in the hope that a sleek trainer shop will get your juices flowing.
The tour suggests: "Drop in to receive expert advice for the best products for your running technique and training style." Perhaps you'll walk out with an even more expensive pair, they hope.



24) Pancras Square: A single oak tree marks the entrance to a triangular courtyard with a sloping water feature, surrounded by office blocks, cafes, restaurants and a library. The walls appear to have been deliberately aligned to block out all sunlight, even in mid-June. It's very popular.

25) German Gymnasium: This is a lovely old building, sandwiched between St Pancras and King's Cross - the first purpose-built gymnasium in England. But it's now a D&D restaurant, so going inside's not really an option, especially given you've already eaten two salt beef sandwiches, a bowl of beetroot soup, a bagful of groceries from Waitrose, a £3 scoop of ice cream, plus a full-on burger lunch at the Lighterman.

26) Battle Bridge Place: Here we find IFO (Identified Flying Object), the giant birdcage which lights up in neon colours after dark. Its appearance serves only to highlight how little public art we've been served up earlier in the walk, indeed I was surprised by the overall paucity of the sculptural offering.



27) Great Northern Hotel: The curving frontage of this former railway hotel follows the line of the buried Fleet River, not that the tour mentions this. Instead it suggests you might be interested in the Manhattan-style bar and the fine dining restaurant, Plum + Spilt Milk, because that's more target audience.

28) The Western Concourse: And finally, our tour ends inside the freshly-bedazzled concourse of King's Cross station. The spectacular domed roof rightly gets a mention, but the tour of course feels the need to add "a host of new shops, eateries and bars", as well as the queue-clogged tourist magnet that is Platform 9¾.

It probably only takes an hour, the King's Cross Walking Tour, assuming you don't stop to splash out along the way. It's good at leading you round an evolving part of central London, and showing you what's there. But having completed it, what struck me is that it wasn't a walk, it was a two mile-long advert by a development company which needs visitors' cash to thrive and grow. I finished with a chain of ideas for places to eat and drink, plus a sense of what living round here might be like if I had the disposable income, but little sense of joy.

In particular I thought I saw the soul of the emerging New London, a commercial environment hell bent on encouraging consumption, where the only things worth doing cost, and the only places to stop and pause are with a drink in hand. Whilst there's nothing inherently wrong with a shopping and dining experience, indeed it's what an increasing number of Londoners seem to want, King's Cross seems to be at the vanguard of squeezing out everything else until spending's all that's left.


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