A New Year means new digits, and new digits mean a series of posts about the number 24. I've chosen to start with London's oldest unchanged bus route, the 24's north/south run from Hampstead down to Pimlico. Rest assured I won't be writing a full travelogue because I did that back in 2012 when the route celebrated its centenary. Even if you're no enthusiast, bear with me through this write-up because it takes an unexpected seasonal turn in the middle.
Route 24: Hampstead Heath to Pimlico Length of bus journey: 7 miles, 50 minutes
Welcome to South End Green near the Royal Free Hospital. This is where you end up if you arrive in Hampstead by Overground rather than by tube, near the foot of the Heath surrounded by some quite nice cafes. Bus drivers have their own Victorian shelter to hide inside plus convenient underground conveniences, while their empty vehicles loiter on the cobbled stand. I was inordinately pleased to get this doubled-up photograph, although I see it's essentially exactly the same as I took last time only with newer buses.
It's not a busy spot early-ish on New Year's morning, not this soon after thousands of collective hangovers, but the sober and the elderly are already out jogging, walking their dogs or buying their daily paper. Absolutely nobody is keen on heading into town at this time so I get the entire bus to myself for the first four stops. Some of the more over-optimistic residents of Agincourt Road have forgotten that today's bins aren't being collected until tomorrow. On Southampton Road Camden's streetsweepers are out clearing up the night's excesses. How is this bus still playing that bloody Hold the handrails message six years after that misguided project was aborted?
This ride is noticeably downhill, courtesy of the former river Fleet, descending all the way to the Chalk Farm Road. Here the doors of Camden Market are already flung open but few takers have yet arrived, and locally it's mainly only the coffee shops that've bothered to open. Southbound through Camden the 24 alas takes the dull backstreets route, skipping the normally busy shopping extravaganza, eventually re-emerging onto the main drag at Mornington Crescent. HS2 cuts across the Hampstead Road like a massive scar, a broad diagonal building site where as yet not enough building has taken place. Routes 27 and 29 also come this way and I fear there may be little more to blog about in three or five New Years' time.
As central London approaches the top of the BT Tower is wishing everyone a happy and peaceful new year, should anyone think to look up. There are, briefly, more people queueing to get into Lidl than are camped on dirty mattresses outside. At Tottenham Court Road a tourist with a giant red case and a Lego branded carrier bag alights to catch the fast train to the airport. This is also where the driver presses the This bus is on diversion message, even though that's not happening for another four stops. Flustered passengers alight early, then watch as the 24 continues gaily down the Charing Cross Road towards the actual obstruction at Trafalgar Square.
For today is the day of the annual London's New Year's Day Parade, a dazzling mile-and-a-half-long stream of floats and marching bands. Its mendacious website claims it's "more fondly known by Londoners as LNYDP", although what most Londoners would actually say if asked is "what is that I have never heard of it". This may be because it takes place while many are comatose, or perhaps because it's only screened locally on TV channel London Live, another concept wildly unfamiliar to the population. But here it is anyway, flooding from Piccadilly down to Whitehall and entirely blocking the path of any undiverted bus.
The parade is an explosion of sheer American razzamatazz, populated predominantly by high school and college pupils flown across the Atlantic especially for the event. Most are brightly costumed with a musical instrument in hand, or armed with pom poms and grinning from ear to ear. Inbetween come the open topped buses, the Pearly Queens and the costumed donkeys, plus a handful of outer London boroughs attempting to fit in and generally missing the vibe. A giant inflatable policeman usually appears, this year held aloft by members of the D'Evelyn High School Tour Choir, because that's the kind of thing foreign audiences associate with London. But mostly it's marching bands with chocolate box plumage and twirly flags, delighting the many millions of earlybird Americans watching on PBS.
2024's weather proved dry enough for the costumes to dazzle without drooping and just warm enough for spandex to be a practical possibility. But not everyone had dressed flamboyantly. The performers on one float were all in black, which it turned out was because one of them was the one and only Chesney Hawkes, doomed to sing The One And Only on repeat all the way from Hyde Park to Horseguards. This is not the kind of thing you normally get to enjoy on the route of the number 24 bus. But after he'd gone it was back to the coloured hats, the spangled banners and the bracing brass as the saccharine pageant continued. If the USA ever chooses to invade London it needn't be with tanks, it could be with tubas on a post-hangover bank holiday.
And yes there are crowds, particularly tourists who happen to be in town anyway and families for whom the LNYDP is a free spectacle which'll occupy the kids for a couple of hours. Branded puffer jackets and Gryffindor scarves are a common sight. Those who've planned ahead and paid up can sit in the grandstands, for which read rows of seats on trailers, which line an improbable proportion the length of Whitehall. Here MCs attempt to keep the watchers entertained, a pop-up shop sells unnecessary souvenirs and the parade participants offer an extra special flourish as they enter the final funnel. Here an inflatable Mayor marks the end of the pizazz, adding precisely zero gravitas to the Cenotaph setting.
With Parliament Square sealed off a horde of New Year visitors were taking advantage of the lack of vehicles to wander willy nilly and take photos, mostly selfies with Big Ben. Westminster Abbey seemed to have a decent tourist throughflow even though Coronation year is now officially over. Even Victoria Street was half closed, with the parade's organisers taking advantage by using it as an official coach park. At least fifteen executive coaches were lined up on either side, each with a sheet in the window denoting high school of origin and a resting driver up front awaiting the buglers' return. And after all that seasonal chaos, just before Westminster Cathedral, the displaced 24 was back on route and I was able to jump back on board.
I joined the poor sods who'd stayed aboard since Soho and been taken on a lengthy joyride over Lambeth Bridge, most of whom alighted almost immediately at Victoria station. From here the 24 is mainly a local bus taking residents and hotel guests back to the environs of Pimlico. After the nice restaurants and an Argos come the capacious stucco terraces and anonymous guest houses, plus a cabman's shelter whose drinks offer has upgraded to include lattes, smoothies and iced tea. The route terminates in a one-way loop around a giant postwar council estate called Churchill Gardens, which feels a world away from the iconic heritage of bustling Westminster.
Drivers lay over in a leafy slot on the Thames embankment, immediately opposite the landmark towers of Battersea Power Station... and blimey that's changed since I last rode the 24 in 2012. Now the parade's over you could safely take a ride yourself, and appropriately it's a 24-hour route so come anytime.
