geezer goes out... to ThreeMills for a British Waterways Open Day Prescott Lock - a new green gateway to the Lower Lea valley
With Olympic construction due to begin next year, a heck of a lot of building materials need to be delivered to the Lower Lea Valley in the run up to 2012. They could be driven in by road, but a far more environmentally-friendly solution would be to ship them in by boat. And so British Waterways are to build a brand new lock on the Bow Back Rivers, just south of the Olympic Park, with the aim of removing 1000 lorry journeys a week from the streets. The exact location of the lock is the Prescott Channel [photo], a quarter-mile navigation around the back of the Three Mills film studios. Don't worry, it's not named after our esteemed Deputy Prime Minister, just in honour of one of the men who had this cut-through constructed in the 1930s. The Prescott Channel is a quiet waterway - off the beaten track and rarely visited - and yet it's still somewhere you probably know very well. Because it's across this river, during the summers of 2000 and 2001, that Big Brother contestants were led to the studio following their eviction from the House. Because this is Davina's Bridge [photo].
Channel 4 built the first Big Brother house in a field on the eastern side of the Prescott Channel [photo]. But producers weren't convinced that the show would be a hit and only had planning permission for two years, after which Newham Council insisted that the house be pulled down and the site returned to a natural habitat. Five years later not a trace remains, just a locked-off patch of green wasteland [photo]. Peering through the gate it's hard to imagine that this is where Nasty Nick was unmasked, where Vanessa Feltz went slowly mad and where Marjorie the chicken pecked her way to fame. But the bridge [photo] is still there. The same bridge across which evictees ran the gauntlet of the press, and behind which fireworks erupted as Craig and Brian crossed to victory. But the bridge won't be there for much longer.
To ensure that Prescott Lock is in place before Olympic construction begins, the old bridge has to go. It'll be replaced, fractionally further upriver by a state-of-the-art tidal barrier, complete with sluice gates, fish ladder and pedestrian walkway. The new lock gates will be big enough to accommodate two 350 tonne barges, enabling building materials to sail up the Lea from the Thames into the heart of the Olympic redevelopment zone. There's also every expectation that a green transport network can be established as the regeneration of the valley continues. It'll then be possible to move waste and recyclables up and down the river by barge, rather than them continuing to be dumped into the water by couldn't-care-less local industries. As those responsible for the development delighted in telling me yesterday, the lock should have a sustainable future well beyond the closing ceremony of the 2012 Games.
One of the biggest problems seeping out into the Bow Back Rivers at the moment is biodegradable human pollution. Most of North London's sewage passes through the Abbey Millspumping station, just to the north, and the Victorian pipes are no match for modern levels of effluent. Fifty times a year, on average, sewage from Abbey Mills overflows out into Abbey Creek, down the Channelsea River [photo] and into the River Lea. I bet they didn't warn Big Brother contestants of this regular current of sludge sweeping right past their living quarters. And it's not one-way traffic. The Lea is a tidal river and so, less than 12 hours after every discharge, most of the sewage is washed back upriver to contaminate a much larger area of waterway. One extremely useful side-effect of constructing the Prescott Lock will be to block off this brown backwash and prevent it from reaching the Olympic Zone a short distance upstream. Longer term, however, only an upgrade of London's 150-year-old sewer infrastructure can solve the underlying issues with outfall pollution, and the cost of such a major project would dwarf even the Olympics.
Construction on the new lock begins in a few weeks time, which means the closure of even more local waterside pathways (this time for an 18 month period). Three different footpaths meet at the bridge and each will shortly be sealed off for security reasons. One heads north to Three Mills Green, and another west along a puddle-strewn track round to Three Mills itself [photo]. But the most charming of the three is the eastern footpath along the Channelsea River towards the Greenway. The water below may be a nasty shade of brown, the view across the river may be of a forest of gas cylinders and the land opposite may be the site of an old cyanide factory, but it's a lovely walk [photo]. Nesting moorhens waddle across the tidal mudflats, and catkins hang low from trees above the riverbank. You can walk along this path and not see a soul, save for scores of passengers peering from the windows of passing District line trains wondering what the hell you're up to [photo]. Before long, however, watching from the train is going to be the only way to keep track of how the construction of Prescott Lock is going. But British Waterways are certain that, once complete, it will kickstart the renaissance of this sub-Olympic corner of the Lower Lea Valley. Let's hope the future round here is green, and not brown.
How "vaguely sociable" was it? Sort of. A blazered gent and I had a nice chat with the British Waterways representatives who'd given up their Sunday to stand in a tearoom at Three Mills and talk in some detail about this new project. But I didn't stay for a cup of tea and a chat, sorry.
With the London Transport Museum in Covent Garden closed until the Autumn, the capital's bus and train enthusiasts have had nowhere to go recently. Thank goodness for the Museum Depot in Acton Town, home to hundreds of thousands of pieces of transport ephemera, which occasionally unlocks its doors for an official Open Weekend. And then they come, out of the shadows, both young and old, to spend the day staring at tube trains and old trolleybuses and stuff. There was a ridiculously long queue outside yesterday morning, but I'd bought my ticket in advance and so walked past the lot of them. Damn, that probably makes me a bigger geek than any of them.
Once inside there was a lot to see. Several bits of trains are lined up in the main body of the warehouse, from old Metropolitan milk wagons to prototype Crossrail carriages. You're only allowed inside a couple of them, which gave several parents a chance to show their precocious offspring the semi-luxurious conditions in which they used to travel. A number of old buses have been crammed in along one side. Nothing too modern, you'll be glad to hear. Proper buses (some red, others green) with friendly drivers and conductors, and comfy seats, and route information on the front blinds. unlike many of the visitors I didn't remember any of the trams and trolleybuses, but some of the 60s and 70s vehicles looked nostalgically familiar.
Elsewhere there are ticket machines, signals, escalators and engine parts, and racks of smaller items such as clocks and fire buckets. There are 3D models of tube stations, built to assist engineers when the labyrinth of tubes and tunnels beneath was being extended. There's a big shop, where yesterday grown men were queueing to purchase a limited edition Acton 2007 diecast Routemaster 1:76 scale model (already selling on eBay for £89). Upstairs there are rows and rowsof station signs ("Look Daddy, Arsenal! Arsenal!"), and old maps, and even some old furniture from London Transport HQ. If you like this sort of thing, you'd have loved it. Maybe next time.
How "vaguely sociable" was it? Not even slightly. OK, so if you came with family and friends then it was very sociable indeed, and you could spend all day saying things like "Ooh, I remember that" and "Look Johnny, Daddy remembers that". If you were a true transport aficionado you could go round meeting like-minded souls and telling them "Of course, the Class B was withdrawn in 1957 and replaced by the frankly substandard twin-valve Class F." But I went by myself, and kept myself to myself, and kept reminding myself that actually I'm nowhere near as borderline Aspergers as I sometime think I might be.
geezer goes out... after dark last night, looking up at the sky Total lunar eclipse - perfectly timed for the journey to the nightclub
Aww, did you see it? One bold bright full moon in a cloudless sky, slowly nibbled away and fading to red? I watched the first silver sliver disappearing high above the Blackwall Tunnel Approach Road. I observed a twin-horned crescent shining ominously between the towers of Canary Wharf. I saw the shadowy disc fading fast while stood on a deserted bridge in the middle of the Thames. I stared wistfully at the eclipsed copper moon hanging high above the nightclub car park. And then I went inside and missed all the rest of the lightshow. But it was great, wasn't it?
How "vaguely sociable" was it? Extremely. Easily my sociable night of the year so far (maybe that's not saying much, but this was proper chatty beery sociable). See, I do go out sometimes - once in a red moon.
geezer goes out... after dark tonight and looks up at the sky Total lunar eclipse - perfectly timed for the walk back from the pub
20:18 Saturday: The Moon enters the outer shadow of the Earth, or penumbra. It gets slightly dark. Nobody notices. 21:30: The Moon enters the inner shadow of the Earth, or umbra. Slowly the lower left corner is eaten away, still sort of visible but darker, then more and more disappears until the whole disc has gone. 22:44: Total eclipse. The Earth lies now directly between the Sun and the Moon, so no light can get through, so the Moon goes dark. Not black though, usually a sort of dark red colour, because some light is still getting through diffracted by the Earth's atmosphere. But quite moody-looking all the same. 23:57: Now the top left of the Moon edges back out into light shadow, and the eclipse is partial again. And slowly more and more partial. 01:11 Sunday: Back into the outer shadow, where the eclipse is again barely even noticeable. 02:23: That's it, all over, and the full Moon shines brightly once again.
If you miss this, then there's another total eclipse visible from the UK next February (but you probably won't be awake to see it at 3am on a Thursday morning). Miss that, and you'll have to wait for December 2010 (although the eclipse starts at sunrise, so it won't be as impressive as tonight's). It's an even longer wait for the next half-decent opportunity. So don't miss tonight.
• East (1-6 March): A six-day festival of food, history, performance, art and fashion. Although it looks suspiciously like "all the usual stuff that goes on in East London but under a fancy title" to me.
• London: A Life In Maps (closes Sunday): A brilliant retrospective of capital cartography, attended so far by ninety thousand appreciative visitors. If too many more turn up during this final weekend, however, expect South London to disappear behind a sea of bobbing heads.
• Barbican Arts Centre: It's 25 years old. It's 25 years old today! This concrete palaceof the arts is always a fascinating place for a wander (assuming you don't get lost, that is). Plenty of special activities this weekend, especially for kids.
• Open weekend atthe London Transport Museum Depot: Head to Acton Town to see tubes and buses and trams and signs and posters and other urban transport ephemera. Anoraks optional. Not open again until 2008. [photos][photos]
• City Hall: The Mayor's giant bike helmet is open on the first weekend of every month, but have you ever been inside? And up to the observation deck at the top? And down the fantastic central spiral staircase? And wondered how anyone ever gets any work done whilst sat in the goldfish bowl offices?
Three weeks ago, you may remember, I told you how utterly rubbish Visit London's official search engine was. Because it was utterly rubbish. I asked the site to tell me "What special events are taking place in London tomorrow?" and the search engine listed 854 events, the great majority of which weren't actually happening at all. So I thought I'd go back today to see if things have improved. And, what do you know, they have! Lots!
Let's try asking that same question again. What special events are taking place in London tomorrow? According to Visit London today, there are 181 special events taking place in London tomorrow. That may sound a lot, and indeed Visit London have a very broad definition of "special". But 181 is a much more realistic total, and 80% lower than the 854 they were offering three weeks ago. I am impressed.
Last time round, Visit London were insistent that a Tuesdays-only art course at Sotheby's happened every day of the week. Now it only crops up if your search includes a Tuesday. Likewise Cripplegate's 7-11 Club is now rightly restricted to Wednesdays, and Storytime at Pollards Hill Library only appears on the last Friday of the month. The search engine designers have pulled their fingers out and labelled everything properly, by date, including a special new "recurring events" category. I am impressed.
Last time round, searching Visit London still threw up events from several months past, such as Lewisham's Winter Festival and Christmas Market. No longer - all these anachronistic events have been deleted. I am impressed. The database still contains a few events ridiculously far into the future, such as next year's Lord Mayor's Firework Show (9 November 2008). I guess it's possible that some tourists really are interested in planning that far ahead, but the continued inclusion of events dated 2010 and 2012 is surely unjustifiable.
Last time round, searching for "free events" generated a list of absolutely no events whatsoever. This counter-intuitive result was a consequence of incompetent programming, which has now been fixed. Attempt the same search today and you'll discover 56 free special events taking place in London this weekend. I am impressed. There used to be a similar problem when searching for events with "wheelchair access" or "disabled toilets" - none whatsoever showed up. Visit London haven't fixed this problem, they've hidden it by removing all four accessibility categories from the search form. There's still absolutely no functionality for disabled visitors, but at least nobody's going to waste their time looking any more.
Last time round, the Visit London search engine had been rubbish for months and months and months. And now it isn't. At some point (very very recently) the site's programmers have knuckled down and sorted out the great majority of issues that were making the search facility nigh impossible to use. It's still not perfect, but it is at least now fit for purpose. I'm sure it's just a coincidence that all these changes have occurred during the last three weeks, because I'd hate to think that Visit London had to be shamed into action by having their site's flaws exposed in public. But credit where credit is due - I am impressed.
geezer goes out... to Sister Ray record shop, Berwick Street Onetwo - performance and record signing by Paul Humphreys and Claudia Brücken
Old pop stars never fade away, they just carry on making music for an increasingly small nucleus of hardcore fans. And we love them for it. Onetwo is the 21st century performance vehicle for two 1980s stalwarts - Paul Humphreys of sensibly electric OMD, and Claudia Brücken of intensely epic Propaganda. Together they make sensibly electric intensely epic music, as you might expect. Claudia's voice is as recognisable and captivating as ever, and Paul can still stand behind a synth and smile with the best of them. Last night's after-work crowd in a Soho record shop lapped up this upbeat and rather special performance, then queued to get the band's new album signed by the demi-gods of their adolescence. Because old pop fans never fade away either.
How "vaguely sociable" was it? Pretty good. Not only did I attend in company, but I also bumped into somebody else I knew while I was there. And I was reminded (by the odd icy glare) that it's not deemed good manners to be too chatty and sociable during a musical performance.
geezer goes out...In a gentle attempt to break out of my recent hermit-like state, I've decided to try "going out and being vaguely sociable" a bit more often. I started last night with a bit of urban planning, just to get the new month off to a flying start.
As part of the British Library's phenomenally successful London: A Life In Maps exhibition (closes Sunday), a series of related talks has been running on Wednesday evenings. The last of these was given yesterday by the man in charge of 2012 Olympic planning, and hence with the job of ensuring that our taxes deliver a lasting legacy to the Games. I think our money's in safe hands.
Planning for the 2012 Olympics isn't just about making sure that all the stadia open on time. It's also about ensuring that local communities benefit from all the millions being pumped into redevelopment and new infrastructure, helping one of the poorest corners of the country to reinvent itself. It's about making sure that government funding isn't just used to spend and spend, it's used as an investment for the future. And, as Jerome explained, this isn't a new idea - it dates back to the Victorians.
Over the last 150 years there have been several attempts to revitalise various areas of London via expensive grand schemes. The Great Exhibition of 1851 inspired the development of our Museum quarter on the fringes of Hyde Park, then delivered suburban acceptability to the newly established suburbs of Sydenham. The development of Alexandra Palace in the 1870s provided another nucleus of development in North London, even though the original building burnt down within a fortnight of its opening. The British Empire Exhibition proved the catalyst for the growth of the Wembley area, and the Festival of Britain in 1951 opened up the South Bank to culture and respectability. Even the Millennium Dome, though much maligned, is finally starting to bring prosperity to the former industrial wasteland of the North Greenwich peninsula. London's history has proven time and time again that substantial investment in green space brings significant added value to the surrounding area. When viewed in the context of long-term legacy, the 2012 Olympic Games are just another example of government-sponsored regional philanthropy.
The plan for 2012 is to "start with the park". Get that right, said Jerome, and everything else should follow. The ODA started their detailed planning by considering what they'd like the Olympic Park in Stratford to look like a few years after the Games have finished, and worked back from there. Sustainable venues such as the Velodrome will be built to last. Other 'unnecessary' venues will be dismantled soon after 2012, and these adaptable plots of land given over to other uses such as housing. It's expected that at least 9000 new homes will have been built around the Olympic Park by 2025 (which, sold off at a few hundred thousand pounds each, should pay back a substantial proportion of the Games' building costs). Initial estimates suggest that the population of this part of East London may eventually rise by between 100,000 and 150,000 people (approximately one-and-a-half Olympic Stadium-fuls). And that's a lot longer-lasting legacy than two weeks of athletics.
Jerome confirmed that the Olympic site in Stratford will be barricaded off in just four months' time. The ODA plan to erect 13km of security fencing to surround the site, allowing major remediation work to begin across the 300 hectares of land within. I've long been concerned that the unique nature of the Bow Back Rivers would be eradicated by the imposition of major building works, but Jerome had reassuring words that this ought not to be the case. The plan is to "enhance, not obliterate", and steps are already underway to populate a seedbank of the Lower Lea Valley's native species to ensure their survival. It won't look or feel the same after 2012, obviously, but it was good to hear that the Olympic Park won't be a bland featureless landscape of lawns and saplings cut through by ugly concrete channels. Come July we locals are to be locked out from our favourite backyard wilderness for at least five years, probably rather longer, before the full extent of Olympic regeneration can be revealed. But after Jerome's talk I'm now more hopeful that it'll be worth the wait.
How "vaguely sociable" was it? Not very. There were about 200 of us in the audience, but we all sat far enough apart so as not to have to chat to anyone else. I did try to return a dropped pencil to its owner on my way out, but that was the total extent of my evening's conversation.
During February 2003 on diamond geezer I kept myself busy by counting things. Ten different counts, to be precise, in a none-too thrilling daily feature called 'The Count' (a sort of 28-day tally chart). It may be deathly dull to the rest of you, but I've continued to count those ten categories again, everyFebruarysince, just to keep tabs on how my life is changing. Below are my counts for February 2007, accompanied by the previous statistics and some deep, meaningful pondering. Should you care, that is.
Count 1 (Blog visitors): Blimey, I've reached the giddy heights of 800-or-so visitors a day. That's ten times more than I had four years ago, back when I used to dream of having 100. But last February's massive total remains an unrepeated freak, thanks to a single mention on Blogger's front page. This year's February figure feels somehow more worthy. Total number of visitors to this webpage in February 2007: 23082
(2006: 42277) (2005: 9636) (2004: 6917) (2003: 2141)
Count 2 (Google searches): I'm only counting these in case too large a proportion of my visitors are coming here 'accidentally' rather than deliberately. And they're not. So that's alright then. Total number of Google referrals to this webpage in February 2007: 3919
(2006: 3473) (2005: 908) (2004: 947) (2003: 316)
Count 3 (Blog content): I'm always convinced every year that I'm writing far more than I was last year, but this turns out not to be the case. OK, so this is my most prolific February yet, but not by much. It looks like I'm really astonishingly consistent, generating about 500-600 words a day. Good, I'd hate to think my blogging was increasing out of control like an addiction or something. Total number of words in diamond geezer in February 2007: 17102
(2006: 15817) (2005: 16016) (2004: 16214) (2003: 14392)
Count 4 (Spam): Still surprisingly low, given the avalanche of speculative drivel that clogs the world's inboxes. My ISP manages to block most incoming spam, thankfully, although numbers slipping through are sadly on the increase. Those new blurred-image messages for US stock options seem most difficult to stop at the moment, along with the usual badly-spelt willy-strengtheners. But I should be glad to be averaging only four a day. Total number of spam emails I received in February 2007: 119
(2006:82) (2005: 54) (2004: 31) (2003: 30)
Count 5 (Nights out): Oh dear, I appear still to be an after-dark hermit, with 25 nights in this month and only three nights out. I've defined 'night out' to be 'sometime after 6pm', which has discounted a couple of otherwise appropriate contenders. And I've included sitting in an audience (eg at the cinema) as 'being sociable', even though it's not really. Otherwise my total would be down to just one, which is a bit grim really. Still, I'm expecting things to pick up from the middle of next month, maybe even approaching 2003 levels... The number of nights in February 2007 I went out and was vaguely sociable: 3
(2006: 2) (2005: 2) (2004: 7) (2003: 21)
Count 6 (Alcohol intake): That's right, my entire alcohol consumption for this month consists of a single bottle of Becks, which was consumed before 5pm on the very first day of the month. It may be healthy to be nigh teetotal, but it's also a sign of how stay-at-home I've become. Total number of bottles of Becks I drank in February 2007: 1
(2006: 7) (2005: 0) (2004: 17) (2003: 58)
Count 7 (Tea intake): Apart from one dodgy year when workplace kettle usage was banned, my tea consumption remains wonderfully consistent. As, incidentally, does my coffee intake (still zero). Total number of cups of tea I drank in February 2007: 137
(2006: 128) (2005:81) (2004: 135) (2003: 135)
Count 8 (Trains used): Again, very regular and fairly high. You can tell I live in London, can't you? Total number of trains I travelled on in February 2007: 100
(2006: 107) (2005: 117) (2004: 109) (2003: 103)
Count 9 (Exercise taken): I'd like to assure you that any apparent decline in escalator-climbing is due to the nature of my daily commute, not to any increasing levels of breathless unfitness. Honest. I still walk up every escalator I ascend (unless a fat tourist with an even fatter suitcase is blocking my upward progress, of course). Total number of escalators I walked up in February 2007: 31
(2006: 35) (2005:38) (2004: 72) (2003: 73)
Count 10 (Mystery count): At one point earlier in the month I thought that the legendary diamond geezer Mystery Count was most definitely going to reach 2 by the end of February. And then I'd have had to tell you what I was counting, like I promised. But these expectations proved wholly unfounded, and so the Mystery Count remains zero. Bad luck. Maybe next year... Total number of times that the mystery event happened in February 2007: 0
(2006: 0) (2005: 0) (2004: 0) (2003: 0)
When a sporting stadium is renamed after a big corporate sponsor, do you think "Ooh, I'd never heard of them before, but they must be a really fantastic company so I'll go out immediately and buy all their products"? Or do you think "sellout"? I know which one it is for me.
Here's a list of Britain's top 10 most sold-out stadia(unless, of course, you know better)
1) Ricoh Arena (Coventry City): You what? Ricoh are obviously a sponsor selected for their millions rather than for their name. Does "Ricoh Arena" make you think football stadium? Of course it doesn't. You probably can't even pronounce the name properly. I reckon Ricoharena sounds more like a seedy hotel complex on the Costa Brava, or maybe a dodgy Spanish dance involving smearing oneself over the nether regions of ones partner. But hey, Coventry have decided (in their shareholders' infinite wisdom) to name their new stadium after a photocopier manufacturer whose "software solutions are designed to enhance your document lifecycle". If this is the future of football, God help us all. 2) Emirates Stadium (Arsenal): Because there's nothing one associates more with top class football than long haul Middle East air travel, right? Wrong. Arsenal's chairman admitted to having mixed feelings about selling naming rights for the Gunners' new stadium to an airline, but said £100m was too good to resist. I bet it was. No wonder most true supporters continue to call the new place Ashburton Grove or, even better, Highbury. 3) Reebok Stadium (Bolton Wanderers): One of the first (and boldest) stadium rebranding opportunity scenarios. You wonder if Bolton fans are wholly delighted by their sci-fi-tastic modern stadium, or secretly embarrassed to be associated with a sportswear manufacturer who are not quite cool enough. 4) JJB Stadium (Wigan Athletic): Whatever happened to naming your stadium after the street in which it's located? Doesn't pay enough sponsorship money, I guess. In this case maybe Robin Park didn't sound quite serious enough, but it's still surely better than being named after a discount warehouse for hoodies. 5) KitKat Crescent (York City): Yes really. York's tiny ground at Bootham Crescent was renamed after a chocolate bar as part of a two-year sponsorship deal with confectionery giants Nestlé Rowntree. Who then promptly sacked 645 local factory workers. There's brand loyalty for you. 6) The Brit Oval (Surrey County Cricket Club): Surrey have always seemed willing to prostitute their naming rights to whoever pays them the most money. Over the last few years their world-famous cricket ground has been called the Fosters Oval (strewth), the AMP Oval (who?) and now the Brit Oval (after an insurance company you'd not otherwise have heard of, and maybe still haven't). 7) Walkers Stadium (Leicester City): It could have been worse. Leicester's new stadium was nearly called the Walkers Bowl, which is both hideously American and far too easily satirised (a "bowl of crisps"? please no). Leicester supporters with a modicum of self-respect prefer to call their new stadium Filbert Way, so I'm told, which at least doesn't make anyone think of over-perky jug-eared potato munchers. 8) Grattan Stadium (Bradford Bulls): That's a rugby ground named after a mail-order catalogue full of lingerie, ladies shoes and garden furniture. Good grief. I'll let the stadium's PR give the case for the defence... "Known the world over as the home of the awesome Bradford Bulls, Grattan Stadium is a unique and unforgettable destination ideal for a wide range of on-field and indoor sporting, cultural and corporate events." They just don't get it, do they? 9) Madejski Stadium (Reading): I suppose it's acceptable to name a football stadium after the chairman if he's poured millions into the club and brought it rare success. But it's still sheer unbridled megalomania, isn't it? 10) The McDonalds Double Quarter Pounder Stadium (2012 Olympics): It's OK, I've made this one up. Seb & Co have yet to announce the key domestic partners for the London 2012 Olympics, and the IOC wouldn't allow such blatant advertising anyway. But I bet some deranged PR executive somewhere is trying to change the rules to make it happen.
I SPY LONDON the definitive DG guide to London's sights-worth-seeing Part 17:Hampton Court Palace
Location: East Molesey, KT8 9AU [map] Open: 10am - 6pm (closes 4:30pm in winter) Admission: £12.30 5-word summary: 500 years of royal magnificence Website:http://hrp.org.uk/hampton Time to set aside: a day
You've probably never considered visiting Hampton Court during the winter months. The gardens aren't at their best in February, the renowned flower show is still months away and the palace isn't centrally heated throughout. But this might just be the best time to visit, mercifully free from packs of tourists and staircase-blocking coach parties. Plus there's absolutely tons to see, far more than you probably expect, and it's not all bluff Tudor monarchs and armoured codpieces. Hampton Court wasn't originally a royal palace, not until Henry VIII confiscated it from his disgraced archbishop Thomas Wolsey in 1528. But over the last five centuries it's been repeatedly embellished, extended and rebuilt, so that the palace now comprises several different architectural styles. It certainly has a turreted chimneypot skyline like no other [photo].
Most visitors start their exploration of the palace from the central Clock Court[photo], maybe meeting up with a costumed guide, or else following one of the many audio-wand walks around the building. One of the oldest surviving parts of the palace is close by - the Tudor Kitchens. This mass catering establishment has been recreated for today's visitors as if preparing for a genuine 16th century banquet. The roast boar and savoury pies cooked here would have been served in the Great Hall upstairs, and gobbled down beneath the richly decorated hammer-beam roof. Nextdoor are Henry VIII's state apartments (or at least those which Sir Christopher Wren left alone when modernising the rest of the building a couple of centuries later). Palace guides enjoy leading hapless visitors through the gallery supposedly haunted by Henry's headless Wife-number-5, and this is also where the famous oil painting of The Field of the Cloth of Gold is hung. Close by is the magnificent Chapel Royal, where Henry married his last wife and baptised his only son, and which is still used for regular Sunday services to this day.
And that's only a small part of what there is to see. The southern and eastern sides of the palace, around the Fountain Court and cloisters, house the state apartments of King William III and his wife Queen Mary. You know the sort of thing - chains of vast rooms and long galleries packed with panelled walls, stern-looking portraits, giant tapestries and ornate 4-poster beds, all set out beneath impossibly ornate roofs. And, if you're willing to climb up several rear staircases to reach them, you might be able to take a look inside one of the old grace and favour apartments on the upper floors, close to the seat of the 1986 fire which devastated several of the historic rooms beneath (now restored).
Don't rest yet, there's still loads to see outside. There's Capability Brown's Great Vine for a start, not especially impressive in winter but still the oldest productive vine in the world [photo]. Inside the Lower Orangery are nine priceless (but overlooked) Italian Renaissance canvases depicting the Triumphs of Caesar (I suspect the security guard stationed in here gets very lonely). Round the corner is the famous Royal Tennis Court - a wooden chamber where Henry VIII used to play, and the oldest surviving tennis court anywhere in the world [photo]. And then there are the gardens[photo], acres and acres of them, beautifully laid out in a variety of imposing formal styles. Some lead down to the Thames, others run alongside an artificial channel through the grounds. Look east into the Home Park (above the heads of the swans on the Long Water) and you can just make out the Golden Jubilee Fountains shooting water 100 feet into the air some three quarters of a mile away.
The infamous Hampton Court Maze is located in the northern part of the palace grounds. This was Britain's first hedge maze, planted as long ago as 1690, and crams half a mile of paths into a third of an acre. The labyrinth is considerably more complicated than the sign pictured here suggests, although not so complex that you need fear getting trapped inside forever. Study the map by the entrance as much as you like - it won't help you much once you get disoriented inside. The sanctuary of the centre never seems too far away when viewed through a patchy yew hedge, but selecting the correct route at each junction is far harder than you might expect [photo].
Expect to have to fight your way past yelping children and scattered families, and maybe enjoy directing them down one of the dead ends just for a laugh. Listen out too for a permanent audio art installation called "Trace" which has been embedded around the maze, playing various enigmatic sound effects as you pass by. Just try not to be too disappointed when you finally reach the centre only to discover a few occupied benches, a big tree and far too many over-pleased mummies with pushchairs. It's much easier to get out, thankfully, through a simple exit gate back into the surrounding gardens. You might be ready to go home at this point, but I bet you still won't have seen everything this a-maze-ing palace has to offer. [sorry, I couldn't resist it] by train: Hampton Courtby bus: 111, 216, 411
Why are homes still built with too few electrical sockets? My flat is less than 10 years old, but it's still woefully under-supplied. Take my main living room, for example. Whoever fitted out my flat decided that six wall sockets (in three pairs) would be sufficient. They were wrong. As you can see from the following audit of my plugged-in electrical appliances, I've already used most of these sockets several times over.
Socket 1 → 4-way adapter → TV set video recorder DVD player digital radio Socket 2 → 2-way adapter → Freeview box aerial booster
That's a total of 16 electrical items powered by six sockets - an average of nearly three appliances per plughole. And my current set-up leaves no room for temporary plug-ins, such as recharging my mobile or powering my vacuum cleaner, which often proves a bit awkward. At least I haven't (yet) been forced to plug a 4-way adapter into a 4-way adapter in order to satisfy my craving for power, but that day may come.
Six sockets just aren't enough to support basic electrical needs in 21st century Britain. Even were I to cut back to absolute essentials (TV, video, Freeview, aerial booster, hi-fi, laptop, wi-fi, telephone) that would still be too much to plug directly into my walls without running out of sockets. My kitchen's supply isn't much better, neither is the single socket beside my bed adequate for all I'd like to use it for. Goodness knows how the true gadget freaks amongst you cope with what you have.
Why can't builders install a sufficient number of power outlets in our homes, as standard? It might help us to avoid the wired hell of tangled flexes and electrical spaghetti that currently clutter our living spaces. Surely a few more holes in the wall would make practical sense, and make our lives a little safer too? Because as technology advances, this current imbalance can only get worse.
Silver discs(February 1982)
A monthly look back at the top singles of 25 years ago
My ten favourite records from February 1982 (at the time) Soft Cell - Say Hello, Wave Goodbye: If you're of a certain age, this bittersweet warbling ballad no doubt tugs uncontrollably at your heartstrings and brings an emotional tear to the eye. If you're rather younger, you've probably only ever heard David Gray's coffee table version. Your loss. [ToTP]
"Standing in the door of the Pink Flamingo crying in the rain" XTC - Senses Working Overtime: The only Top 10 hit from one of my very favourite bands, lifted from the quintessential English Settlement album. Here Andy Partridge looked at the everyday world through fresh eyes (and fresh ears, fresh noses, etc). Swindon never sounded so good. [video]
"And all the world is football-shaped, it's just for me to kick in space" The Jam - A Town Called Malice / Precious: Not so much a double A side as a double A+ side. The band were even allowed to perform both songs on the same edition of Top of the Pops which was unheard of, but then they had just crashed straight in at number 1 in the era before records smashed in regularly at number 1. [video]
"To either cut down on beer or the kids' new gear, it's a big decision in a town called Malice " Depeche Mode - See You: By rights the band should have faded after Vince Clarke left, but they had another unexpected songwriter up their sleeve and so survived. A bit twee maybe, but this puts all their later darker stuff into proper contrast. [Tube]
"You can keep me at a distance if you dont trust my resistance, but I swear I wont touch you" China Crisis - African and White: Soft, hook-laden propaganda direct from the dark continent (ie Liverpool). This, the first of their mostly-underrated single output, stalled at number 45 in the charts.
"Afrikaner, african and white, you're closer than you really ever know" Bow Wow Wow - Go Wild In the Country: All praise to Malcolm McClaren for rescuing 14-year old Annabella Lwin from her after-school job in a dry cleaners and creating this nugget of angry pop energy. Woof! [video]
"Swinging from the trees, naked in the breeze, but I got no boiled chicken, I wanna go hunting and fishing" Thompson Twins - In the Name of Love: This storming track from the South London collective took US dance clubs by storm, but we Brits proved harder to impress. The opening synth fanfare found its way into the middle of Love On Your Side a year later, but only a few of us remembered where we'd heard it first. [live]
"Hey you, I've seen your face before, it's you in the picture which hangs on my bedroom wall" Leisure Process - Love Cascade: I'm probably the only person who remembers this turntable hit, from a briefly-flowering electro-duo much loved on evening Radio 1 at the time. The band featured session saxophonist Gary Barnacle, later to perform behind Level 42, Kim Wilde and Jamiroquai.
"Make way, here comes our love cascade, our triumphs on parade, why were we so afraid?" Blue Rondo A La Turk - Klactoveesedstein:A ridiculous yet charming audio trifle, although people were no doubt too embarrassed to ask for it by name in record shops which probably is why it faded without trace. The band were named after a jaunty Dave Brubeck jazz track which, to be honest, was probably much better.
"I've gotta find out what it means, it's got to mean something, it's not just a dream " Funboy Three and Bananarama - It Ain't What You Do It's The Way That You Do It: Siobhan, Sara and Keren piggy-backed into the limelight on the back of this finger-clicking 1939 jazz classic, and never went away again. The trio became the UK's most successful all-girl band ever, and the song title has entered the vernacular. [video] [ToTP]
"You can try hard, don't mean a thing, take it easy and then your jive will swing"
10 other hits from 25 years ago: The Lion Sleeps Tonight (Tight Fit), I Can't Go For That (Hall and Oates), Centrefold (J Geils Band), Maid of Orleans (Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark), Easier Said Than Done (Shakatak), Fool If You Think It's Over (Elkie Brooks), Cardiac Arrest (Madness), You're The One For Me (D Train), Queen of the Rapping Scene (Modern Romance), Theme From Hill Street Blues (Mike Post) ...which hit's your favourite? ...which one would you pick?
One of the best things about reading blogs is being able to answer back. Not that you want to answer back every time, but it's good to know that you can. If someone writes something on their blog that you feel the urge to respond to, then respond. Open up the comments box (or click onto the comments space on the page) and type away. Sometimes the comments are the best bit of a blog, a place where entertaining debate and conversation can flourish. Comments are rare and precious things, always earned, never to be taken for granted. Oh yes, the ability to interact is one of the things that makes reading blogs worthwhile.
So it's a bit annoying to come across a blog where you can't answer back. Sometimes it's the decision of the blogger themselves not to allow comments, in which case fair enough. But more often than not it's the decision of the blogging platform instead. You want to leave a comment? Bad luck you can't, because you're not a member. It's members only round here. We're a community we are, so you can only leave a comment if you're one of us. So either sign up and join us, or bugger off and leave us alone. It's not exactly friendly and inclusive, is it?
I discovered a new gated blogging community yesterday. They're called Vox, and they're a new-ish part of the Six Apart stable. I discovered them via a seriously large promotional plug in yesterday's Metro (all over most of page 21) in which the newspaper announced the launch of their own Metro UK Vox blog. Ooh how exciting. There's only one post on Metro UK at the moment, which is a heartfelt plea to the paper's readers to sign up and join the Metrospective community. Only 4 people have bothered so far but hey, it's early days yet. And look, you can only leave a comment on the Metro blog if you're a Vox member.
Want to post a comment? Sign in or Join Vox to post a comment
Not much chance of me, or you, or anybody from the outside world ever commenting on anything, then. Other blogging communities can be just as restrictive. Want to leave a comment on a Yahoo! 360° blog? Sorry, members only. Want to leave a comment on a MySpace blog? Sorry, only if you've signed in. Want to leave a comment on a LiveJournal page? Sorry, LJ-ers only. [And will the bastards at LiveJournal allow me to sign up for an account? Will they hell. Their ridiculously overprotective software has somehow decided that my IP address is home to a pre-teenage child, and I can therefore only open an account if "my parents" give their consent via an ID check using a credit card or photocopied birth certificate. Fat chance, corporate suckers... so that's my usage of the LJ service permanently barred. Sigh.]
So, every interesting Vox, MySpace, Y!360° or LiveJournal post that I read must remain forever uncommented. These big blogging platforms are stifling debate by restricting interaction only to those already on the inside. Great if you're writing a blog you want only your five best mates or your Auntie Jane to read, but bloody useless for anyone with higher aspirations. If you want the wider world to stumble upon what you've written and maybe acknowledge its innate creative brilliance then you don't need protective social networking, you need open comments. Like what most of the rest of us have. I love that fact that anybody can leave me a comment, even an anonymous comment, on the spur of the moment without having to register a carefully verified online identity.
So I'm sorry Metro, but I suspect that your chance of creating a vibrant Vox-powered network of urbane opinionated commuters is virtually zero. And if you disagree perhaps you'd like to leave me a comment here and tell me so, because I can't leave you one.
Just released, figures which reveal London's most visited tourist attractions. And what do you know - the Tate Modern is the most popular attraction in the capital with nearly 5 million visitors last year (that's an impressive 13600 visitors a day or, if you like, 26 visitors a minute). According to the official list, a total of 14 attractions welcomed more than a million visitors in 2006 (up from 13 the year before). And right down at the bottom of the pile was the Theatre Museum, whose visitor numbers were so feeble that the place was forced to close down last month. Great headline-grabbing stuff, this rank-ordering.
But hang on a second, there must be more than 23 visitor attractions in London, surely? Where's Buckingham Palace? Where's Madame Tussauds? Where's the London Eye? It turns out that the above list is restricted only to attractions with current membership of ALVA - the Association of Leading Visitor Attractions. If you didn't take part in the organisation's latest survey then you're not on the list. It's not exactly definitive is it? I'm perfectly willing to believe that Tate Modern is the genuine number 1, but I have very little faith that Tate Britain is really number 10.
Still, at least the visitor numbers are fascinating. It's striking how much more popular the National History Museum is than its scientific neighbour. It's instructive that the Tower of London is the only attraction in the top half of the list which charges for admission. It's mysterious how the Houses of Parliament seem to have so many visitors when they're only open to the public during the summer recess. And blimey, more people visited my blog last year than visited HMS Belfast - surely that can't be right?
The full ALVA list also contains attractions outside London, which means that even the Tate Modern is eclipsed by the success of Blackpool Pleasure Beach - Britain's most-visited in 2006, with 5.7 million dropping in. All the rest of our top attractions are still in the capital, however, right down until Edinburgh Castle appears as the UK's number 14. Meanwhile, at the very bottom of the full UK list, a rather more folorn picture is painted:
It's quite sad that only 50 people a day head down to deepest Camarthenshire to "discover the spellbinding story of the Welsh woollen industry". Similarly it's a shame that only 50 people a day head for a small village south of Dumfries to "open the door on fashion and society through the ages". That's as many visitors daily as the Tate Modern gets in two minutes. For every mega-attraction in central London, it seems there are several carefully-crafted mini-museums in the provinces which never get the support they deserve. Let's hope that a few more tourists frequent these overlooked treasures in 2007.
I confess. I have an unnatural desire to collect leaflets. Not the sort that low-paid migrants attempt to force into my hand in the street. Not the sort that tumble out of the middle of magazines and newspapers when I open them. Not the sort that local curry houses and pizzerias poke through my letterbox three times a week. But the sort of public information leaflets that are often left lying around in libraries, stations and hotel foyers - the sort that I select for myself rather than having them thrust upon me. Ooh I love leaflets.
I don't know why, but I find it very difficult to walk past a stack of leaflets without at least looking to see what they are. Maybe there'll be a special 2-for-1 offer in there, or a useful map, or a suggestion for something to visit or somewhere to go. I always keep my eye open walking through tube stations to see if London Underground have brought out anything new and interesting (er, no, just the usual engineering work info and Oyster promos). I'll often make a diversion into a tourist information centre just to see what freebies they have for me to take away (I may have no intention of visiting Stonehenge in the near future, but some information about it might be useful). It's amazing how many leaflets you can stuff into a pocket or bag before people start giving you funny looks.
I throw half of these leaflets away when I get home. They turn out not to be really interesting after all, or completely irrelevant once the event they're describing has passed, or advertising somewhere twee that I shall never visit. But that still leaves an awful lot of leaflets lying around which I can't bear to dispose of. I have piles and piles of maps (the most useful of which are probably the 19 free London Cycle maps which between them provide full street by street coverage of the capital). I have full details of all the tourist attractions in the Eastbourne, Stornoway and Bedford areas, just in case I should ever return and have a couple of hours to spare. And I can tell you all about the special arrangements on the tube for next weekend, or on Millennium Eve, or during the Queen's Coronation (one of you sent me that last leaflet, I didn't pick it up at the time, honest).
What I really need is a decent filing system so that I have some hope of locating a leaflet from my assembled collection should I ever need it. How will I ever find that special Olympic leaflet in amongst the museum mini-guides and steam railway timetables? How will I ever stumble upon that must-visit historic monument if its leaflet lies buried in a heap of craft village vouchers and regional tourist maps? I guess I could try to replace as many of these leaflets as possible by their online pdf equivalent, but somehow an electronic Adobe-powered leaflet is never quite the same. And I'd really miss the thrill of collecting even more semi-useless glossy pamphlets the next time I'm out and about. Because I am a leafletoholic. And proud of it.
Shrove Tuesday is a traditional Christian feast day, celebrated all over the world for several centuries. Everybody loves a good pancake, not least because they're the perfect food for using up all your excess milk, butter and eggs before the 40-day fast of Lent begins. But be warned. Frying pancakes on Shrove Tuesday may endanger both you and your family. Because pancakes can kill. Take heed, citizen.
Planning your Shrove Tuesday menu: First of all, ask yourself do you really want to cook pancakes? Sure they taste yummy and sweet, but think too of all the vein-clogging that lies ahead. Wouldn't it be better to forego these stodgy batter treats this year and plump for a healthier meal instead? Perhaps a nice carrot, or a some tasty salad, or even a crunchy Ryvita biscuit. The Food Standards Agency is already in negotiations with the Church of England to have today renamed either Pineapple Day or Coconut Tuesday. Wish us luck.
Preparing the ingredients: Pancakes are made using a very simple recipe, requiring minimal preparation. But have you considered the nutritional advantages of replacing some of the ingredients with a healthier alternative? Instead of ordinary plain flour, try brown rice flour - it's full of bowel-loosening fibre. Instead of full-fat milk, slim down to the tasteless skimmed stuff. Instead of butter, use a low-lipid salt-free vegetable oil or margarine. And instead of eggs, acknowledge the undoubted benefits of a soft paste made from hummus and aubergine. Shop carefully - it could save your life.
Cooking the pancakes: You never can be too careful when cooking pancakes. Do not under any circumstances leave your children alone in the kitchen with a big non-stick frying pan, in case they sneak this vicious weapon outdoors and use it to initiate murderous street violence. And do not under any circumstances flip too vigorously when tossing your pancakes, in case one sticks to the ceiling and you end up falling off a stepladder while trying to retrieve it. Always complete a full risk assessment before attempting to initiate in-house pancake generation.
Garnishing your pancakes: A squeeze or two of lemon on your pancake is a good thing (and, in large enough doses, counts as one of your five daily servings of fruit and vegetables). But don't be tempted to use artificial Jif from a yellow plastic receptacle because this contains several spoonfuls of evil carbohydrate. And don't sprinkle extra sugar over your pancakes either, because there's already enough sugar in that maple syrup you've just smothered everywhere, and your teeth will surely rot, and all your local NHS dentists have already run out of money this financial year. Plain is best.
Eating your pancakes: Don't. Just don't. It was a lot of fun cooking them, but don't under any circumstances allow these fat-filled concoctions to enter your digestive system. You might as well just roll up each pancake and insert it down a major artery. Sorry, not even running in one of those pancake-flipping race events will expend sufficient calories to cancel out a batter-bloated stomach. So play safe, and just chuck the lot in the bin. Oh go on then, maybe just one pancake. But if your waistline expands and you drop dead seconds afterwards, don't say we didn't warn you.
Please note that other religions are available - many of which only promote feast days based on the principles of healthy eating. When selecting a religion for your family always consider the importance of nourishing the soul via a fully sustainable diet regime - preferably not including pancakes, chocolate eggs or (especially) roast turkey.
10 places in Kensington and Chelsea that now cost drivers £8 to visit
1) Hyde Park (we'll all think twice about popping down to the Serpentine with our Fortnum & Mason hampers now) 2) Portobello Road market (how is one expected to carry polenta and antiques home without forking out for a taxi?) 3) That lovely boutique on the Kings Road which sells bijou objets d'art (increased delivery charges will surely put essential services such as this out of business) 4) The Royal Albert Hall (thankfully the charge applies only to matinée performances) 5) Rupert and Olivia's private school (how will the au pair ever be able to afford to pay the newly-extended Congestion Charge every day?) 6) Sloane Square (obviously one could use public transport instead of one's car, but buses and trains are full of common people) 7) All the museums in South Kensington (does Mayor Ken not realise that the price of school coach trips will now have to rise?) 8) The Notting Hill Carnival (it's a damned shame the charge doesn't apply on Bank Holidays, because we'd rather those noisy sound systems and steel bands stayed away) 9) Harrods (although anybody who shops here can easily afford to pay £8, so it's not much of a disincentive to drive is it?) 10) Connaught Square (ha, that's slipped Tony Blair's new house just inside the zone with only a few months to spare)
10 places to which Kensington and Chelsea residents can now drive once they've paid their £8
1) Mayfair, 2) Marylebone, 3) Westminster, 4) Soho, 5) Southwark, 6) Lambeth, 7) Covent Garden, 8) Bloomsbury, 9) Clerkenwell, 10) the City (so traffic in the original zone is now sure to increase, because it doesn't cost K&C residents anything extra to drive there. Damn)
10 places to which we can still drive for nothing
1) Paddington, 2) Park Lane, 3) Victoria, 4) King's Cross, 5) Tower Bridge, 6) Elephant and Castle, 7) Vauxhall, 8) Earl's Court, 9) Shepherd's Bush, 10) the rest of Britain (for now)
geezer goes out... to Three Mills for a British Waterways Open Day
With Olympic construction due to begin next year, a heck of a lot of building materials need to be delivered to the Lower Lea Valley in the run up to 2012. They could be driven in by road, but a far more environmentally-friendly solution would be to ship them in by boat. And so British Waterways are to build a brand new lock on the Bow Back Rivers, just south of the Olympic Park, with the aim of removing 1000 lorry journeys a week from the streets. The exact location of the lock is the Prescott Channel [photo], a quarter-mile navigation around the back of the Three Mills film studios. Don't worry, it's not named after our esteemed Deputy Prime Minister, just in honour of one of the men who had this cut-through constructed in the 1930s. The Prescott Channel is a quiet waterway - off the beaten track and rarely visited - and yet it's still somewhere you probably know very well. Because it's across this river, during the summers of 2000 and 2001, that Big Brother contestants were led to the studio following their eviction from the House. Because this is Davina's Bridge [photo].
Channel 4 built the first Big Brother house in a field on the eastern side of the Prescott Channel [photo]. But producers weren't convinced that the show would be a hit and only had planning permission for two years, after which Newham Council insisted that the house be pulled down and the site returned to a natural habitat. Five years later not a trace remains, just a locked-off patch of green wasteland [photo]. Peering through the gate it's hard to imagine that this is where Nasty Nick was unmasked, where Vanessa Feltz went slowly mad and where Marjorie the chicken pecked her way to fame. But the bridge [photo] is still there. The same bridge across which evictees ran the gauntlet of the press, and behind which fireworks erupted as Craig and Brian crossed to victory. But the bridge won't be there for much longer.
To ensure that Prescott Lock is in place before Olympic construction begins, the old bridge has to go. It'll be replaced, fractionally further upriver by a state-of-the-art tidal barrier, complete with sluice gates, fish ladder and pedestrian walkway. The new lock gates will be big enough to accommodate two 350 tonne barges, enabling building materials to sail up the Lea from the Thames into the heart of the Olympic redevelopment zone. There's also every expectation that a green transport network can be established as the regeneration of the valley continues. It'll then be possible to move waste and recyclables up and down the river by barge, rather than them continuing to be dumped into the water by couldn't-care-less local industries. As those responsible for the development delighted in telling me yesterday, the lock should have a sustainable future well beyond the closing ceremony of the 2012 Games.
Construction on the new lock begins in a few weeks time, which means the closure of even more local waterside pathways (this time for an 18 month period). Three different footpaths meet at the bridge and each will shortly be sealed off for security reasons. One heads north to Three Mills Green, and another west along a puddle-strewn track round to Three Mills itself [photo]. But the most charming of the three is the eastern footpath along the Channelsea River towards the Greenway. The water below may be a nasty shade of brown, the view across the river may be of a forest of gas cylinders and the land opposite may be the site of an old cyanide factory, but it's a lovely walk [photo]. Nesting moorhens waddle across the tidal mudflats, and catkins hang low from trees above the riverbank. You can walk along this path and not see a soul, save for scores of passengers peering from the windows of passing District line trains wondering what the hell you're up to [photo]. Before long, however, watching from the train is going to be the only way to keep track of how the construction of Prescott Lock is going. But British Waterways are certain that, once complete, it will kickstart the renaissance of this sub-Olympic corner of the Lower Lea Valley. Let's hope the future round here is green, and not brown.
How "vaguely sociable" was it? Sort of. A blazered gent and I had a nice chat with the British Waterways representatives who'd given up their Sunday to stand in a tearoom at Three Mills and talk in some detail about this new project. But I didn't stay for a cup of tea and a chat, sorry.
Once inside there was a lot to see. Several bits of trains are lined up in the main body of the warehouse, from old Metropolitan milk wagons to prototype Crossrail carriages. You're only allowed inside a couple of them, which gave several parents a chance to show their precocious offspring the semi-luxurious conditions in which they used to travel. A number of old buses have been crammed in along one side. Nothing too modern, you'll be glad to hear. Proper buses (some red, others green) with friendly drivers and conductors, and comfy seats, and route information on the front blinds. unlike many of the visitors I didn't remember any of the trams and trolleybuses, but some of the 60s and 70s vehicles looked nostalgically familiar.
Aww, did you see it? One bold bright full moon in a cloudless sky, slowly nibbled away and fading to red? I watched the first silver sliver disappearing high above the Blackwall Tunnel Approach Road. I observed a twin-horned crescent shining ominously between the towers of Canary Wharf. I saw the shadowy disc fading fast while stood on a deserted bridge in the middle of the Thames. I stared wistfully at the eclipsed copper moon hanging high above the nightclub car park. And then I went inside and missed all the rest of the lightshow. But it was great, wasn't it?
The Count 2007
I SPY LONDON
You've probably never considered visiting Hampton Court during the winter months. The gardens aren't at their best in February, the renowned flower show is still months away and the palace isn't centrally heated throughout. But this might just be the best time to visit, mercifully free from packs of tourists and staircase-blocking coach parties. Plus there's absolutely tons to see, far more than you probably expect, and it's not all bluff Tudor monarchs and armoured codpieces. Hampton Court wasn't originally a royal palace, not until Henry VIII confiscated it from his disgraced archbishop Thomas Wolsey in 1528. But over the last five centuries it's been repeatedly embellished, extended and rebuilt, so that the palace now comprises several different architectural styles. It certainly has a turreted chimneypot skyline like no other [photo].
Most visitors start their exploration of the palace from the central Clock Court [photo], maybe meeting up with a costumed guide, or else following one of the many audio-wand walks around the building. One of the oldest surviving parts of the palace is close by - the Tudor Kitchens. This mass catering establishment has been recreated for today's visitors as if preparing for a genuine 16th century banquet. The roast boar and savoury pies cooked here would have been served in the Great Hall upstairs, and gobbled down beneath the richly decorated hammer-beam roof. Nextdoor are Henry VIII's state apartments (or at least those which Sir Christopher Wren left alone when modernising the rest of the building a couple of centuries later). Palace guides enjoy leading hapless visitors through the gallery supposedly haunted by Henry's headless Wife-number-5, and this is also where the famous oil painting of The Field of the Cloth of Gold is hung. Close by is the magnificent Chapel Royal, where Henry married his last wife and baptised his only son, and which is still used for regular Sunday services to this day.
The infamous Hampton Court Maze is located in the northern part of the palace grounds. This was Britain's first hedge maze, planted as long ago as 1690, and crams half a mile of paths into a third of an acre. The labyrinth is considerably more complicated than the sign pictured here suggests, although not so complex that you need fear getting trapped inside forever. Study the map by the entrance as much as you like - it won't help you much once you get disoriented inside. The sanctuary of the centre never seems too far away when viewed through a patchy yew hedge, but selecting the correct route at each junction is far harder than you might expect [photo].
Silver discs (February 1982)
Soft Cell - Say Hello, Wave Goodbye: If you're of a certain age, this bittersweet warbling ballad no doubt tugs uncontrollably at your heartstrings and brings an emotional tear to the eye. If you're rather younger, you've probably only ever heard David Gray's coffee table version. Your loss. [ToTP]
PANCAKE DAY - a Government Health Warning
10 places in Kensington and Chelsea that now cost drivers £8 to visit
To ensure that Prescott Lock is in place before Olympic construction begins, the old bridge has to go. It'll be replaced, fractionally further upriver by a 
I SPY LONDON
