For the second half of my visit to Tandridge I'm visiting the commuter section to the north of the M25. Many of the towns and villages are connected to London by bus or train, indeed had the boundary with Surrey been drawn differently then Caterham and Warlingham could very easily be part of the capital. But they're a bit dull, sorry, so allow me to start by visiting an unsung stately home instead. Try not to giggle. [14 photos][map]
Somewhere historic: Titsey Place
Stop that. The village of Titsey appears in the Domesday Book, and had an important strategic location on the Pilgrims Way at the foot of the North Downs. The manor house has been around for centuries and was owned by the great Tudor financier Sir John Gresham, the Richard Branson of his day, whose wares were furs and fabrics from the far east. Titsey Place lies in a beautiful location, wrapped round to the north by a bend in the chalk downs, the slopes entirely covered by trees. Too nice, as it turned out in the 1770s when the latest Sir John Gresham had the manor house rebuilt and moved the entire village out of the way! He didn't like seeing cottages and the church from his window, so had the whole lot shifted a few hundred yards to the east to open up a panorama. That view too is rather lovely, if you can ignore the noise of the M25 half a mile away screened only by trees. Clacket Lane Services are just out of sight, if that helps you to locate Titsey more precisely.
In 1804 the last Gresham heiress married a Leweson Gower (pronounced Leverson Gore), which introduced a whole new set of heraldic symbols around the house. Later descendants became Major Generals, poets, MPs and archaeologists - the latter made easier by having a buried Roman villa in the grounds. But the last of the dynasty died 20 years ago, and the estate passed into the hands of a Foundation... who open it up to the public every summer. No, I'd never realised either. You drive in, or walk, down a long lane from Limpsfield, eventually passing through a herd of cattle secured safely behind electric wires. This is the pedigree Titsey Herd, now 75 strong, and available for appearances at barbecues and restaurants as required.
Sunday visitors can pay to enter the walled kitchen garden, which is beautifully maintained, and currently ablaze with colour. A comprehensive variety of plants are neatly laid out within, and spill out into the estate beyond which is also open for roaming. The ornamental lake is fed by springs at the head of the Eden Valley, or take a pew on the south terrace to enjoy Sir John's village-free view. But come on Wednesday or Saturday, and pay a little extra, and a guided tour of the house is thrown in too. And this is fascinating. Nine rooms are open to view, and your volunteer guide will whisk you through in one hour flat topped off with copious facts and anecdotes. The history of the family is intriguing enough, because a banking fortune means you can do pretty much anything. Yes those are four real Canalettos on the dining room wall, purchased direct from the artist, while all the Georgian panelling in the Gallery Bedroom was shipped in from elsewhere. I enjoyed the variety of styles and decor, along with touches that indicated this is still very much a family home, even if the original families have all died out.
I struck lucky and got the least busy of the day's three tours - the other two would have meant schlepping round with a rather larger group. But I have no hesitation in recommending a visit to Titsey Place if you're a history/antiques/gardening/tearoom sort of person. Indeed the cream tea slipped down a treat, complete with choice of three types of freshly baked scone, because it seemed the right way to round off a visit. Your only issue may be getting here if you don't have a car because local buses are infrequent, and the nearest station is about an hour's walk away. I walked out via the woodland paths on the escarpment, these steep and indirect, but leading eventually to a lofty view south across the Weald. On a sunny summer's afternoon, high atop the North Downs Way, where better? OK, so it was raining by the time I finally reached Tatsfield, but this Surrey village is surrounded on three sides by London and so has a perfectly regularbus service. Titsey's just about accessible by Oyster, if you make a clean breast of it. by train: Oxted, by bus: 464, by local bus: 595
Meridian Interlude - Titsey Plantation Or you can exit Titsey to the southwest towards Oxted. The walking route again follows the North Downs Way, a long distance path I'm becoming increasingly enamoured with thanks to its linear elevation. This particular mile-long section runs along the foot of the escarpment, with thick woodland above, rapeseed fields below and dry chalk underfoot. On the map it looks straight, whereas the reality is a light wiggle, occasionally diverting around a toppled tree trunk blocking the path. Only the motorway broke the silence, otherwise it was just me and the butterflies and the occasional surprised rabbit. And then partway along I found the Meridian marker I'd been hunting for. I think the panel was meant to be at the very top of the field but midsummer growth had encroached somewhat, forcing someone to trim a deep notch in the hedgerow so it could still be seen. The plaque was installed by Surrey County Council and the Vanguards Rambling Club, the latter custodians of a 66 mile trail from Croydon to Newhaven. I'd seen nobody on either route, indeed I saw no other walkers whatsoever during two hours of traipsing Tandridge's byways. But here at this random spot due south of Greenwich, alone with nature, I'd not have had it any other way.
Somewhere random: East Surrey Museum
Not only is East Surrey apparently a thing, it also has a museum. You'll find it in Caterham, a few yards up the hill from the station, inside a building that looks suspiciously like a house. I think I surprised the steward at the weekend by being a visitor, whereas he was expecting another volunteer to keep him company during a long shift. This is a very local museum, with a focus on Caterham and district, despite claiming to be a repository for the whole of Tandridge. See Old Caterham in postcards, learn about the coming of the railways*, and see dug up bits from nearby Chelsham Roman villa. One room out back has the obligatory collection of ancient relics and stone age flints, including a 13th century water jug shaped like a grinning horse - he's nicknamed Rudolph and is the museum's mascot. Throw in a Children's Room with exhibits targeted at primary school groups and, well, the place has some charm but not much to show for it. by train: Caterham, by bus: 407
* Caterham itself seems to have little history** apart from that generated by the railways turning up. Their arrival in the 1850s turned a village into an end-of-the-line dormitory town, with pleasant villas to be occupied on the valley slopes. Steep contours have created an unusual situation further north where two railway lines run parallel yards apart on either side of the dip, with entirely separate stations and heading for different destinations. The two closest stations are Whyteleafe and Upper Warlingham, 37 minutes apart by train but only three minutes on foot.
** Obviously Caterham does have some history, as two boards by the floral roundabout explain. For example the Asprey Fountain, which was donated to the town by Charles the famous jeweller, and whose single lamp became the town's very first streetlight. The Metropolitan Asylum survived here in Caterham for over a century, its most famous resident being Joey Deacon (if you're of a certain age, you'll know his name well). The most recent heritage highlights, apparently, were the replacement of the station car park by a Waitrose in 1982, and the demolition of the Valley Hotel to create the Church Walk Shopping Centre. So no, sorry, not really much history at all*.
I'm continuing my outer orbit of London in Tandridge, East Surrey. It's possibly the least well known of the seventeen administrative districts touching the capital, even though it's quite big, and can be found clinging onto the bottom of Croydon. The northern strip is spacious suburbia, while to the south are a selection of minor towns and tiny villages amid rolling fields. Alas, Tandridge is not over-endowed with places of interest. I discovered this by downloading the council's "Your Guide to Tandridge" booklet off their website, only to discover that the majority of their "Places to Visit" were in fact in neighbouring districts. But I found a few worthy of investigation, and at least two of them turned out to be much more interesting than I was expecting.
Somewhere pretty: Oxted
I've always liked the name. Short and snappy, with an Anglo-Saxon feel, and of course that lovely X. This may just be because I grew up somewhere similar, but I'd always wondered what the place was like. Relatively small it turns out, indeed Croxley's technically bigger, but Oxted hosts the council offices and is administratively far more important. The main shopping street's split in two by the railway, with the west side shorter and more Mock Tudor. It's really rather nice, and includes cafes, a proper ironmongers and a second hand bookshop. Plus there's an adorable-looking cinema whose wooden beams might appear 16th century but are really 1929, ditto the Barclays Bank nextdoor. But then Tandridge is allegedly Housewife Central, with the highest proportion of economically inactive women in Britain, so it's as well they have somewhere to go.
I had feared that, bar the shops, there'd be little in Oxted to write about. Thank heavens then that I'd arrived on the one afternoon the town lets its hair down and parties... at the OxtedCarnival. Held every first Saturday in July since 1966, this annual shindig takes over Master Park at the bottom of the hill, and is unashamedly local. You might walk in from neighbouring Hurst Green or Limpsfield, but the carnival is really an opportunity for residents and organisations from Oxted to come together. The Rotary Club had a paddling pool full of rubber ducks to fish in, for example, while the Cystic Fibrosis tent housed a bottle tombola to put the nearest supermarket to shame. On the fringes an army officer, or a man dressed convincingly as one, waited patiently for anyone to approach so that he could talk to them about centenaries and stress. It being a bit early the bar tent hadn't quite taken off, and the Barn Theatre ladies were still declingfilming the sponges in their tea tent. But I swapped two pound coins for a tasty hotdog at the carnival committee's gazebo, this pure profit what with all the bread and squeezy ketchup having been kindly donated by Morrisons.
A very mild stir was caused by the arrival of Tandridge's Chairman of the Council, that's Councillor Elizabeth Parker, in a Ford Fiesta driven by her Consort Robin. He traversed the carnival in his hatchback and parked up on the grass by the ice cream van, because you're totally allowed to do that when your wife runs the place. Exiting the car in chains, Elizabeth was resplendent in cardigan and straw bonnet, but was outshone by the feathery attire of the town crier and her big bell. Meanwhile on the other side of the park, the carnival procession (theme 'Toys and Games) was lining up prior to its tour round the town. One local school had dressed up collectively as Angry Birds, while another group disguised as Duracell bunnies bounced around to music in the far corner. One float with guitarists and drummer was decked out as "Roxted" (see what they did there?), practising silently as the time for departure approached. And right on schedule out came Oxted's householders to watch the parade from their front verge, its musical soundtrack echoing all the way to the town's outskirts. And that's where the similarity between Oxted and Croxley finally struck me, one with its Carnival, the other its Revels. Each a community celebrating its individuality and togetherness annually in friendly style - I felt very much at home. by train: Oxted
Meridian Interlude - Oxted The Greenwich Meridian runs down the east side of Tandridge, approximately in line with the East Grinstead railway, including a direct hit on Oxted School and the Ellice Road Car Park. My target was the town's one public manifestation of the zero degree line, which is a centenary plaque on the front of Paydens the Chemists at the bottom of the parade. This is a splendid Tudorbethan pharmacy, its interior laid out rather how Boots used to be, with bottles and creams stacked neatly on shelves and a proper prescription counter at the rear. Look down low by the left of the front door and there's the meridian marker, cast in 1984, below a window display of small town pharmaceutical perfection. Lined up on the meridian itself are a strawberry-themed shower hat, a box of three rose-perfumed soaps and a St Moritz self tan applicator mitt. The first toiletry in the western hemisphere is an RHS Sweet Pea Body Balm, positioned close to the pièce de résistance - a bottle of blonde-pigtailed Matey bubble bath. It's the finest meridian marker I've seen in many a year. Meanwhile nextdoor, firmly in the eastern hemisphere, is Paydens Bookshop. Again it's everything you'd hope an local independent shop would be, with books giving way to an eclectic range of non-poncey stationery as you walk through. I succumbed, zero resistance.
Meridian Interlude - Lingfield
The Greenwich Meridian oh so nearly swipes through Lingfield racecourse, but not quite. Step a hundred yards or so past the entrance to the hotel car park and there, on the other side of the railway bridge, is a small stone monument set into the pavement. It was installed by the parish council to celebrate the millennium, and is oddly hard to read for a memorial so young. Still, it's better placed here than on the opposite side of the road outside the Lingfield & Dormansland Rifle & Pistol Club hut. I wonder if they have a meridian-sighted target lined up inside.
Somewhere sporting: Lingfield Park Yes, Lingfield's where the racing is. It boasts one of the handful of all-weather racecourses in Britain, always usable but not always used. Last Saturday was an off-day, save for a team of groundsmen tending to the non-artificial bits, and the Arpa & Hemanshoo Wedding in the Pavilion Suite. The owners have made sure that the course is almost, but not completely, invisible from the road outside. Stand outside the main gate, which is a peculiar wooden-topped glass box with some turnstiles inside, and you can see a fraction of the outer rail, while a bit of the parade ring is visible through the conifers a little further down the road. So that was well worth my train ticket and a lengthy yomp across Tandridge, I thought. A dedicated footpath leads from the far end of the northbound platform, via which those coming by rail arrive at the races. More typical visitors come by car, and park up in fields labelled No Trespassing at all other times. Ah but this is more than a racecourse, this is the Lingfield Park Resort, complete with golf course for swinging executives and a four star hotel with jockeytastic views. I imagine many a corporate conference takes place within, although the reality next weekend appears to be a Whitney and Beyonce Tribute for all you Ladies out there.
OK, so the sporting end of Lingfield proved rather dull, but the centre of the village was gorgeous. An unlikely mega-cluster of listed buildings swirls around the medieval church, itself Grade I, on the site of a Saxon structure. The current St Peter and St Paul's owes its existence to a dynasty of crusaders, and its most prominent feature is the ostentatious tomb of Sir Reginald de Cobham and his wife (resting her feet on a small dragon), plonked directly in front of the high altar. It's a fine building to explore, but first and foremost a place of worship rather than any fossilised heritage asset. Likewise the surrounding cottages, still very much family homes... and then there's The Guest House. Built in Wealden style for guests of the neighbouring college, this timber-framed beauty turns out to be full of books, and perchance the only 15th century public library in Britain. by train: Lingfield
12.15 Bow Roundabout
There is already mild travel chaos because the whole of Stratford High Street has been sealed off to traffic. A gang of hi-vis operatives are letting the occasional local vehicle through, to the annoyance of others, while buses are directed over the flyover to a makeshift turnaround area. Pity the inspector with the job of telling passengers there are no buses east for six hours, but he's grinning his way through the complaints.
12.30 Stratford High Street
The barriers (and advertising banners) have gone up at the junction with Warton Roadready to divert the approaching riders towards the centre of Stratford. They'll be riding the main road parallel to the segregated blue strip, not along it, which is a shame because I'd like to have seen the peloton tackling the Cycle SuperhighwayBus Stop Bypass Chicane. The events marshal alongside tells me that one of her relatives is cycling today, so I wish him luck, and she continues watching not many people, gathering slightly too early.
1.00 Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park
Crowds have already taken up position on the bend in the road by the Copper Box, the most fortunate few on the embankment beneath the mirrored letters. In the North Park the Tour de France Spectator Hub is in full swing. It's not what I expected, just a big screen, a TfL truck and a slightly upmarket burger van. But hundreds are sprawled on the grass already, watching the action live from Saffron Walden, and all about to get wet in the first of the day's unscheduled showers.
1.15 Westfield Stratford
It's becoming apparent that, here on Westfield Avenue, spectating Le Tour is very much a one-sided beast. Stewards and metal barriers stand firm to prevent passage from one side to the other, except at designated crossing points and times. Most of those who've poured out of the station, or the shops, wait meeklyon one side of the road, while the viewing space along the other is mostly empty. There'll be some stuff to watch along shortly.
1.30 Montfichet Road
The Caravane is here! Police bikes and gendarmes lead the charge, followed by a motley assortment of vans and trucks and fibreglass rabbits advertising things thatFrench consumers buy. We shouldn't really be interested, but it's surreal watching a four pack of fruit juice hurtling towards you at 50 kilometres per hour, and anyway, there are freebies! What's more, there are only a dozen or so of us down the road so we each have a good chance of grabbing whatever the grinning stooges chuck. I pick up what turns out to be a pop-up-frisbee, and a cheap keyring advertising a cross channel ferry. The bloke beside me gets the squeezy plastic cow, but I get the sachet of zero sucre sans colorant Parfum Grenadine, which later leaks out into my trouser pocket and leaves an embarrassing red stain. Not every vehicle is French. A Yorkshire dale rushes by, the two gentlemen on board firmly intent on not throwing any teabags my way, but I have more luck with the giant-bag-of-oven-chips-on-wheels. It's only a small book of matches, but hey, I'm a winner.
1.45 Montfichet Road
"I'm sorry Sir, but you'll have to move on." A young lad who can't be long out of school, but who's wearing the official hi-vis of power, comes over with the bad news. Apparently we're not allowed to stand here any more because there aren't barriers, although it's OK if we keep moving, or if we decamp to the busy section at the top of the slope. The gentleman beside me takes issue - he's a recently retired police officer from Yorkshire, and this is the third consecutive day he's been following Le Tour. He attempts to argue with the boy, wondering what possible jurisdiction he might have, then firmly stands his ground. I don't experience this jobsworth attitude anywhere else during the day except at Westfield, and I wonder if it's something to do with this being private public realm.
2.00 Stratford Broadway Back onCycle Superhighway 2, the Caravane has passed. The top freebie accessory is the Carrefour cap, worn by the discerning to ward off an impending shower. Every school in Newham is closed for the day, so there are a fair few children out along the course, and as well as a number of gentlemen in suits taking time off from their usual office job hereabouts. The corner of West Ham Lane is being described as a hairpin bend, which seems to be overselling the angle somewhat, but the pub inside the V is doing a roaring trade. The rain comes down heavier, and heavier, testing the resilience of anyone who's not managed to find shelter in a shop or doorway.
2.30 West Silvertown
There is an unexpectedly good view of the route from the stairwell at West Silvertown station. I count as many as 50 stewards and police in hi-vis of various colours strung out along Silvertown Way. So many people appear to have been given official jobs for the day that I expect to see London's unemployment figures take a temporary dip. A businessman with a suitcase appears at my side and asks when the peloton is expected. He has a flight at four and was hoping to catch the cyclists as they speed by, but I have to disappoint him, they're running late and have yet to reach Epping. He'll be in the air before they reach The Mall.
3.00 Silvertown Way
Most of the route is lined by spectators, even out here in the outer reaches of the Royal Docks. Elevated highways give a great view of the cycle track, so long as you have the patience to wait. Some have brought tablets to follow the race from afar, yelling out as each new village is reached, others have settled down with a picnic. Those with cameras keep them poised, snapping every approaching Skoda support vehicle in case it turns out to be the herald of something important.
3.30 Lower Lea Crossing
All the workmen at City Island, and at Crossrail's Leamouth site, have been allowed time offsite to watch Le Tour pass. They mass on the central reservation, or else take a grandstand seat atop the nearest crane. A trio of helicopters appear somewhere in the distance over Stratford, indicating that some action might maybe be getting sort-of closer. Meanwhile an angry raincloud grows darker over Docklands, and it's a race to see which gets here first.
3.45 Plaistow
I still can't believe that the Tour de France came to Plaistow. Sorry Plaistow, but I failed to visit you during your brief moment of glory.
3.55 Lower Lea Crossing
The rain is driving down in sheets, and I am extremely wet. Typical, it's been mostly sunny all afternoon but now, as the stream of gendarmes and motorbikes swiftly intensifies, conditions are unseasonably hostile. I spot two actual cyclists in amongst the flow of vehicles... they must be in the lead... oh they've gone. But then comes the peloton of legend, an unexpectedly long chain of cyclists hurtling up the dual carriageway and across the Lea, and passing in a blur. There's no time to recognise who's who and which jersey is which as the procession hurtles by, with a hundred thighs splashing up a volley of spray. They're all gone in fifteen seconds, followed by an infeasibly large number of support vehicles with spare bikes on the roof, but that brief moment is what we'd all waited to see. The world's largest annual sporting event just touched the heart of Newham, and its passing will long be remembered.
It is ridiculously difficult to cross the Thames by road in East London. There are no bridges along the 15 mile stretch from the City to the Dartford Crossing. There are only two tunnels, one at Rotherhithe and one at Blackwall, on either side of the Isle of Dogs. And there's a dinky little ferry at Woolwich, which tries its best but can't keep up with demand. It is therefore a no-brainer that more river crossings are needed, which is why TfL are today launching a consultation for more.
One of these is the Thames Gateway Bridge from Beckton toThamesmead - a project which, like Crossrail, has been on London's drawing board for decades. It appears in the AbercrombiePlan of 1944, then again in the aborted Ringway projects of the 1960s. In the 1990s it came close to being built, but protestersobjected strongly to a link road being driven through Oxleas Wood and the project was dropped. Ken Livingstone brought the plans back ten years ago, with special lanes for public transport, but Boris scrapped the idea on cost grounds when he became Mayor. More recently a Gallions Ferry was suggested as a replacement for Woolwich, but the public laughed at that idea and said "but why can't we have a bridge?" So now Boris is all keen again, despite localopposition, and today's consultation looks likely to lead to eventual completion.
Being a long standing scheme, the Thames Gateway Bridge has one enormous plus - nothing needs to get knocked down. Indeed most of the main roads on either side of the crossing have been built already, with connecting infrastructure ready and waiting should the Thames span ever be built. To the north, slip roads and a flyover exist on Royal Docks Road to give traffic from the North Circular a clear run. A diagonal strip of land lies empty to the south of the DLR depot on Armada Way, which'd join up with Atlantis Avenue before launching into space. And on the opposite side there's absolutely nothing, just a vast former waste tip, previously part of the Woolwich Arsenal's gunpowder testing grounds. Another clear strip of undeveloped land runs between existing estates to join up with what could be a major roundabout to the north of Plumstead. Everything is lined up ready, at least for the bridge itself. [11 photos]
Before the bridge arrives, if indeed it does, its southern end is a remarkably remote spot. A string of flats runs along the waterfront from Woolwich, becoming increasingly less expensive as the curve continues. This is the unloved West Thamesmead development, built about 20 years later than the rest of Thamesmead, and geographically entirely separate. The 380 bus wiggles round the top end of this amenity-free estate, or you can save your money by lugging carrier bags of groceries home up the Thames Path to your designated box. The final block is Bridge House, named after the road that doesn't yet exist, and currently with a large England flag draped from one balcony. Living here ought to be really quiet, except the block lies directly below the flightpath for City Airport, so planes on approach come screaming overhead at annoying regular intervals.
After Bridge House the land opens out, first with a cultivated green strip which will one day be Gallions Reach Park. Not to be confused with the shopping centre of the same name, this reclaimed ecopark includes 800 trees and five conical-shaped hillocks to add character. It ought to be a pleasant place for recreation, except three years after its creation it's still undergoing a "period of establishment", and remains firmly fenced, gated and locked. All looked fine to me, and a woeful waste of resources, but maybe the developers are worried local youth might overrun the place and decapitate the saplings. Having observed a few, they might just be right.
And beyond the thin park, wilderness. The Thames Path runs ahead towards Tripcock Ness with woody waterfront to one side and fenced-off thicket on the other. Acres and acres of former waste dump are covered by undergrowth currently dripping with purple blooms, so much so that if Buddleia World was ever a viable theme park, this would be the perfect spot. This is also very much the foxes' domain - three eyed me up as I walked along the path, and I heard more cavorting beyond. And it's along the precise line where park becomes overgrown thicket that the Thames Gateway Bridge would be built. The roadway has to pass high enough that ships can pass underneath, so I suspect the riverside path would survive, but what a difference from today to have concrete and traffic soaring overhead.
For the best view, head back to the housing estate and find Gallions Hill. This is a high mound of recycled excavated material, rising way above rooftop level, with a spiral path leading gently up from street level. More adventurous souls, and one suspects every local child, much prefer the "straight up the side" route, stepping over low rails and a bench to reach the summit. I was fortunate and got the hilltop to myself, while a gang of lads mustered in a front garden below and a youth in trackie bottoms played a game resembling football with two bull terriers. And the 360° view was truly excellent, that is assuming you like flat estuarine views of residential and light industrial sprawl. Downstream is Thamesmead proper, with Rainham and Erith in the distance, and to one side the wooded scarp of Lesnes Abbey Woods. Upstream are Woolwich and Docklands, with a sea of intermittent tower blocks rising across the less glamorous half of Royal Greenwich. And to the north is that undeveloped strip of green, where one day could run the approach road to East London's first bridge.
It sounds too good an opportunity to miss, the chance to link communities and businesses across the Thames, and no doubt that's what TfL's consultation will find. But there is a catch, and it's the same catch that derailed the very same bridge 20 years ago, which is traffic. Although the existing road network on the northern side of the Thames should be resilient enough to absorb the considerable additional throughflow which would be generated, the road network to the south is insufficient. Sure there's a decent dual carriageway off towards Erith, and thence to Dartford, but no such speedy getaway exists through Plumstead. Traffic heading for south London and in particular the A2 would enter a grid of entirely unsuitable local roads, which would then mean greatly increased congestion and air pollution... or would require a massive bypass. Will the road lobby force through their bridge and damn the consequences, or will narrow streets and ancient woodland once again hold them back?
Since when? You kept very quiet about that!
Since 4.30am this morning. And TfL have been anything but quiet. They ran a public consultation, they stuck posters up on buses, they stuck posters up on bus stops, they made announcements on buses, they sent out press releases, they put adverts in the paper, and they've been tweeting little else for days.
It's OK, I've got the exact money, not a £20 note.
No really, we're not taking cash any more, it's inefficient. You Luddites with cash slow the bus down by boarding slowly, plus all the coins have to be collected and counted back at the depot. By getting rid of cash we speed everyone's journeys, plus we can make some backroom staff redundant, so that's good.
And people actually agreed to this?
No, two thirds of the people who replied to the consultation said they wanted to keep cash as a means of payment, but they were wrong so we ignored them.
So how am I supposed to travel on your bus, then?
Do you have an Oyster card, madam? They're very popular we find, and the vast majority of Londoners own one.
Oh I might have an old one somewhere. Let me dig down in my handbag.
I hope you do, madam, the fare's 95p cheaper with Oyster, You were wasting a serious amount of money paying by cash when you could have been swiping in at a fraction of the cost.
Here you go! But I'm not sure there's much money on it.
That's OK. We have a special new feature called 'One More Journey' which allows you to make one more journey on a bus even if you don't have enough credit on your Oyster card. You'll have to top your account up before you can use the card again, but that should get you home.
Actually you're only my first bus, I need two buses to get home.
Sorry madam, but we don't accommodate that possibility. Maybe you can top up your card after you get off the first bus and before you get on the second. Or maybe you could walk the last bit.
OK, let me tap in... oh, what does that beep mean?
It means there's no money at all on your Oyster card. Sorry, but we don't allow 'One More Journey' in this situation because you are digitally bankrupt. I'm afraid you're going to have to go and find a local Oyster agent and top your card up.
Do you know where the nearest Oyster agent is?
No dear, I'm only the driver. They don't get us to memorise all the newsagents along the route when they send us out. But there's a parade of shops about five stops down... oh I forgot, you can't get on the bus can you? Plus the shops might not still be open, so that's a fat lot of good.
Excuse me, I'm this lady's husband and I'd like to pay her fare for her. Here's my card.
I'm sorry sir, but you can no longer pay someone else's fare on their behalf. I know it used to be possible to pay two or more cash fares, say if you'd brought a family member or friend with you, but that was yesterday. Today every passenger has to pay separately. Your card has already been used to pay your fare, so it can't pay another, end of.
So what am I supposed to do then? Get a taxi?
There's no need for that, madam. Those clever people at TfL have another solution - the contactlesscard.
I don't have a contactless card.
Contactless cards are the future. They're bank cards with a special chip inside which records a small payment when brought withn close proximity of a reader. They're especially popular on credit cards, rather than debit cards, I understand. And TfL waited until contactless cards had been rolled out to the majority of the population before withdrawing the option of cash on buses, because they're thoughtful like that.
But I don't have a contactless card.
Well get with the program, grandma. TfL can't be held responsible for minority interests such as people without plastic money. You're still in the dark ages having circular bits of metal in your pocket, and society can't be expected to tolerate your old school ways any more when there are considerable efficiencies to be made. Going cash-free will save millions every year, and then Joanna Lumley can have her bridge.
So how the hell do I get home if I can't give you £2.40?
Are you sure you're a real person? You're coming across as a hypothetically awkward character dreamt up solely for the purposes of creating a negative narrative. Data from earlier in the year proved that only 1% of passengers are still paying cash... and that's dropped to 0.7% since the introduction of 'One More Journey' last month. I think you're being deliberately obstinate because you don't really exist.
Oh well yes, obviously I have a contactless card.
Great. I should now give you a long sermon about card clash, because contactless cards and Oyster don't mix, and we haven't found a suitable solution to that problem apart from lecturing our customers to be extra careful. But we've already established that your Oyster card is blank, so your contactless card should work perfectly. Please, just wave it in front of the reader.
Hmm, what was that beep for?
Ah, I'm sorry madam, but your card requires a security PIN check. From time to time your card issuer requires that you enter your PIN as a security check, but if this happens when boarding a bus then you won't be able to use your contactless payment card to pay for your journey.
Typical. No wonder I've never used it before.
Well that'll be the problem, then. For security reasons, some cards need to have been used for a chip and PIN transaction before they can be used in a contactless environment, so your virgin plastic is essentially useless on a bus.
This contactless technology's still sub-optimal, isn't it? Who outlawed cash payments before the system was rolled out properly?
There is an official solution to your problem, madam, which is to make a chip and PIN transaction at another retailer and then try your card again on another bus journey. Perhaps you could go and buy a coffee or something and then come back?
But I'm standing in the middle of a housing estate after dark and there are no shops nearby and even if there were they'd be shut.
Well you should have topped up your Oyster card earlier, like a responsible citizen. If you want to use a London bus then you need to follow the rules, and as of today the rules say you need an electronic payment card of some kind to pay your fare. Honestly, you can't just amble around the capital with no money to your name.
But I have £2.40 I'd like to give you, it's just that you won't take it any more. What do you expect me to do?
You're only an imaginary character so you can bugger off and walk home. Thank goodness no real passengers will be inconvenienced by today's move. Right, next please...
I'd not have stumbled upon the event by accident. It's tucked up a sideroad, off a sideroad, the location revealed only by a single temporary board set out on the pavement. Had I not been here on the right day during the right four hour slot, there'd have been no sign.
A series of information boards has been set up in a cramped anteroom, the sort of place where it looks like former employees once drank tea. Only 30 such workers still exist on site, which is being used as the excuse to knock the place down and replace it with flats. The new development will have greater space for commercial activity, but that looks likely to mean jobs for baristas and service professionals rather than people who actually get their hands dirty and make stuff.
One of the consulting team engages me in conversation, carefully checking how far I live from the site to see if they've hit the jackpot with "a local". She directs me towards the information panels, and I try hard to pretend I'm seeing them for the first time rather than having already read the lot in an online pdf. I am interested and engaged, and so is she, as we discuss how the outlines on the masterplan will translate into reality.
The proposed flats aren't precisely illustrated, but depicted using precedents from similar developments. Nevertheless it's clear that what the architects propose are yet more boxy cuboid blocks, each irregularly regular, of the style by which the 2010s will one day be characterised. Roads and walkways will become residential canyons, enough that the essential character of the surrounding area will be hidden from view, creating a bland heritage-free Anywheresville. I'd like to say this out loud, but instead I ask another insightful question and nod at the reply.
I check the percentage of affordable housing, which is higher than many developments hereabouts, which makes it harder to whinge how pitifully inadequate it seems. I also express pleasure at the existence of actual houses along the waterfront, although disappointingly there are only seven, and the mock-up illustrations make them look ghastly. They lose their sparkle completely when I discover that their gardens will be private water frontage, causing the newly-opened towpath to divert inland.
A second member of the consulting team comes over for a chat. She's free now that the only other attendees have left, and is a member of the architectural practice that's put the package together. Both knowledgeable and charming, she bats back everything I ask... cycle facilities yes, new car-free bridge yes, landscaped public realm of course. It's easy to find fault online, but much harder face to face.
It appears the team have done the best they can within constrained parameters, given the need to pack in 300 homes and match the requirements of the surrounding neighbourhood. The end result may be a characterless residential zone, but the current reality hereabouts is no more appealing, and if London needs more housing then it absolutely needs to go places like this. I become resigned to the plans' imperfection.
The previous visitors have left a positive comment on the post-it board, which the team read out after they've left with a genuine smile. They offer me a chocolate if I'll write something too, not that I needed encouraging, so I head over and start scrawling. It's hard to compose a balanced appraisal in biro on a floppy yellow rectangle, but I try, and make sure there's some veiled criticism as well as praise. They'll probably ignore it.
Because this wasn't a proper consultation anyway, merely a public engagement exercise. Stacked flats are pencilled in for this corner of East London, so stacked flats it'll be. And the planning application'll be submitted unchanged later this summer anyway, now with the "community engagement" box ticked, which is all us stooges were there to do.
I walk away, increasingly aware that I failed to be quite as constructively negative as I'd planned. I also suspect that walking down this road in four years' time I'm likely to look up at the completed project and be disappointed by the uninspiring architecture. I might even feel a slight pang of guilt, but that'd be unfair, because I never really had any say. And they never even gave me a chocolate.
When exactly is Crossrail due? I ask, because the completion date seems to have been slipping ever further into the future.
In 2004 I wrote..."2012: Crossrail (optimistic view); 2013: Crossrail (pessimistic view)" (2012, ha!)
In 2006 I wrote... "Crossrail is coming. Very slowly, admittedly, but by 2013 it's hoped that rail travellers will be able to zoom underneath central London and out into the suburbs far faster than is possible today." (2013, ha!)
In 2007 I wrote... "If everybody in the UK contributed five pounds to the Crossrail project... we might just have ourselves a transport lifeline by 2015." (2015, ha!)
In 2009 I wrote... "Work on the grand east-west rail link finally kicked off yesterday, at Canary Wharf, when Boris and Gordon joined together for the first dig. There'll be a brand new station here by 2012, although there won't be any trains for another five years after that. (2017, ha!)
In 2011 I wrote... "Crossrail has been on the drawing board so long that some feared it might never be completed. The completion date keeps slipping back, once 2012, more recently 2017, and now 2018 if we're lucky." (2018? well...)
And in 2014 I can write... "Crossrail's coming in stages, with the first proper bit at the end of 2018, and the whole thing by 2019. Hopefully." (2019, sigh)
TfL's Rail and Underground Panel are meeting next Thursday, and item number 7 on the agenda is a Crossrail update. And although the information in their briefing paper may be nothing new, I thought I'd blog it here, because it would be good to check in six years time whether all of this has actually happened.
The first big thing to happen, on Boris's watch, is on May 31st 2015. That's the date that the "Crossrail Train Operating Company" starts operations, taking over existing Shenfield-Liverpool Street services. Don't get excited, it's only a change of owner, nothing else happens until 2017.
Stage 1: May 2017 - Introduction of new rolling stock on Great Eastern – start of ‘Crossrail’
Here's the moment that TfL's purple Crossrail roundel appears for the first time, on the side of brand new rolling stock. The crappy old trains on the Shenfield line will be retired and replaced by 200m-long monsters, greatly increasing capacity. And even that's three years away.
Stage 2: May 2018 - Heathrow to Paddington - surface
Here's the next chunk of Crossrail, and you'll notice it doesn't join up with the first. Essentially this is the Heathrow Express route, or rather Heathrow Connect, plus an additional short spur to West Drayton. Don't get excited - no new tunnels have opened yet, and trains run only every 15 minutes. And this is four years away.
Stage 3: Dec 2018 – Trains run through Central Section
Just in time for Christmas shopping, five Christmases hence, Crossrail opens up via Paddington through the heart of London. This is where Bond Street, Tottenham Court Road and Farringdon become super-important stations, as does Whitechapel. But only one of the branches to the east opens. At first all trains will head via Canary Wharf and Woolwich to Abbey Wood, while the Shenfield branch remains disconnected above ground to Liverpool Street.
Stage 4: May 2019 - Central Section passenger service connected to Great Eastern Surface Section
At last, Crossrail does pretty much what you're expecting. The link from Stratford to Stepney opens, and finally Crossrail has a choice of eastern destinations, with half the trains going to Shenfield and half to Abbey Wood. Finally we have big trains in big stations linking west, east and southeast London, massively increasing capacity. And this is five years away.
Stage 5: Dec 2019 – Full service operating including Reading
And this is the final bit, extending beyond Slough to Maidenhead and Reading. The completed Crossrail will have 24 trains an hour through the central portion between Paddington and Whitechapel, that's a train every 2½ minutes. This means Shenfield and Abbey Wood will each get a train every 5 minutes - that's 12 an hour, quite some boost on today. But only 10 trains an hour will run west of Paddington, that's four to Heathrow, two to West Drayton and four to Reading/Maidenhead.
And that final completion date is still five and a half years away. It's so far in the future that London's next Mayor will be cutting the ribbon during the last six months of their term of office. How optimistic must we have been ten years ago to think that Crossrail could possibly have been built by 2012, when in reality it'll only be in full operation by 2019.
Anyway, let me just plant this here...
In 2014 TfL wrote... "Construction of Crossrail 2 could commence by 2020 and be complete by 2030."
It's not just the Carpenters Estate that's taking years to move from development opportunity to redevelopment. All across East London sites are sitting waiting to become flats, hotels, whatever, just as soon as someone gets the planning permission and the investment together. And sometimes they're sitting waiting for a very long time. I've been round to catalogue a few that've finally started to appear.
If you visited the Dome at the turn of the century, and walked out back to the banks of the Thames, you'll have entered the reedbeds and piazza of the Meridian Quarter. The plan was to create a sustainable wetland environment, except the area got fenced off in 2001 and was eventually reappropriated as a dumping ground for stuff the O2 wasn't using. Plans to redevelop the site were finally announced in 2010, including "a 452-key Hotel in a building of varying heights" and, adjacent, "100 units of serviced residential apartments in a 24-storey tower". Four years later, hey presto, both buildings are finally arising from the foreshore. The apartment block has a few more storeys to go, lifting it almost to the height of the Dome's yellow spikes alongside. The hotel is a little lower and rather more spread out, with the skeleton of a few lower storeys spread out down below. How much of an eyesore the place is depends on which angle you look from - it's not too obtrusive from East India Dock, but the view of the Dome from Canary Wharf is now permanently disfigured. One pleasing thing is that the new complex doesn't quite straddle the meridian - the zero degrees line has been left uncovered, hopefully for some kind of public space. But blimey, isn't the pace of development on the North Greenwich peninsula slow? A decade and a half since the site was cleared, most of the potential residential opportunities remain as car park or fenced-off brownfield.
Plans have been afoot to redevelop the Leamouthpeninsula, where the Lea meets the Thames, for well over a decade. This narrow meander-bound site would have been flats long ago were it not by far the least accessible place in Tower Hamlets. Canning Town station is incredibly close, but on the other side of a river, so redevelopment rests on somebody, anybody, adding a bridge. Planning permission was granted in 2004 - I even entered a competition to give the bridge a name - but bugger all then happened on the interconnectivity front. A few years later all the post-industrial leftovers were knocked down, and then tumbleweed. Last year the site's developers finally announced the creation of 'City Island' and popped over to Malaysia to formally launch the sale of 1700 flats, although tellingly the brochure didn't feature any images of the levelled desert as it is now. This summer the first couple of buildings have started to appear, no more than three storeys of concrete skeleton so far, but every luxury riverside village has to start somewhere. Most excitingly a bridge has suddenly turned up. It's big and tubular and red, and at present it's parked up on the southern side awaiting eventual installation. I guess it was best transported in before the rest of the peninsula was covered with flats, but it'll be three years before anyone can walk out of Canning Town station's mothballed entrance to cross it.
Was: Some old white building by Stratford bus station (until 2012) Plans for: a 26 storey residential tower Is: an 18 storey part-clad structure Will be:Stratford Plaza(2015)
From an insignificant husk of a building to the tallest tower in central Stratford, never underestimate the development potential of a scrap of land in an utterly prime location. It's taken years, but this one's now rising one floor at a time, topped off by a thicker oval ring at the top for construction purposes. Residents will have a grandstand view of the City and the Olympic Park, or the bus station and Forest Gate, so that'll be nice for some of them. I still can't get used to Stratford becoming London's latest skyscraper nexus, but I'll have to because several more are planned, most particularly up Stratford High Street and around Westfield. Care to guess how the future inhabitants of Stratford Plaza's apartments stack up? You won't be surprised, merely disappointed, to hear that 80% of the 200 flats went to investors from Hong Kong, Singapore and Malaysia, and the remaining 40 went to UK buyers. Time was when Newham's poorest residents were shoved into tower blocks, now they can only look up and dream of the days when the council catered for its people.
Was: Greasy spoon and bikers hideaway on Hancock Road, beside the A12 (until 2012) Plans for: a 35 hectare "homezone" with 680 mostly-flats (blogged September 2011) Is: a razed brownfield site, recently surrounded by a perimeter of marketing boards Will be:Bow River Village(Spring 2015)
On July 2nd 2007 the gates of the Olympic Park clanged shut. Businesses were forced to leave, roads were sealed off, and the work of building international stadia began.
Seven years later almost all of those gates have gone:
• The gates on White Post Lane have gone, and traffic flows freely across the Lea.
• The gates on Temple Mills Lane have gone, as the Athletes Village opens up.
• The gates on Warton Road went three years ago, creating a new entrance to Westfield.
• I was there when workmen hung the gates across Waterden Road, but they're long gone too.
• Even the gates on Marshgate Lane have gone, while Crossrail builds all around.
But one set of gatesis still there, just as it was before the Olympics, firmly locked and seemingly forgotten. It even has a London 2012 logo tied to the bars and the remnants of two blue hoardings to either side. This is the Olympic cul-de-sac that legacy abandoned. This is CarpentersRoad.
Carpenters Road used to be the main road north from Stratford High Street. It ran past various automotive trading units and concrete mixing depots towards the foot of Waterden Road and Hackney Wick. The top end of the road is open again, slightly realigned, and forms an integral park of Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park's road network. But the bridge beneath the railway remains closed, dark and partly overgrown, leaving the bottom end a severed stump.
And the area which loses out is the Carpenters Estate. This lurks mostly out of sight to the north of Stratford High Street, covering 23 acres of land with tower blocks and low-rise council housing. It's nowhere anyone with money would live, apart from a handful of new apartment projects nibbling away on the fringes. And Newham Council would very much like to knock the whole lot down and start again, indeed have been trying since long before the Games, but have thus far been entirely unsuccessful.
The official phrase is "actively decant". Residents have been offered sums of money to move out, mostly into other Newham properties, and the tower blocks are now substantially empty. All three are full of asbestos, which makes renovation uneconomic, but demolition's not much easier and so they still stand. For a number of years majorplansexisted for University College London to create a new campus here, replacing residential outright with educational, but negotiationscollapsed last year and the estate's future is uncertain. Wholly, entirely, ridiculously uncertain, it seems.
Less than half the number of people now live on the Carpenters Estate as lived here a decade ago. Wander the streets and you pass neatly boarded up windows above, below and to one side of flats still occupied by tenants. Some blocks are almost entirely evacuated, others mostly full, making for a strange and somewhat depressing environment. Imagine walking home every day past randomly sealed-off properties, a permanent reminder that the council wants you out too but can't quite decide how to do it.
There's still life. Various businesses survive tucked away in the corners, including a building contractor relocated from the Olympic Park proper. The Carpenters Arms continues to serve pints, and all-day food, from a blue-and-yellow fronted hostelry on the main road. Carpenters Primary thrives, surrounded by welcoming mosaics and flowerbeds facing onto Friendship Way. This school was the recipient of much attention from London 2012 bigwigs and sporting stars, part of a commendable community outreach programme, but current students face an uncertain future most probably elsewhere.
Walking the half-empty streets at the weekend, I saw one sure sign that development prospects have stalled. TfL had been due to direct bus services through the Carpenters Estate once the southern half of Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park opened. The D8 was pencilled in to be diverted up Carpenters Road in May, and a brand new bus shelter awaits overlooking the primary school. But the D8 can't run this way unless the road beneath the railway is unlocked, and there's no sign of that, so services have remained stubbornly along their previous alignment. Now suddenly two permanent D8 bus stops have been erected on Warton Road, helping to fill a long gap where for three years there'd been none, as if TfL have finally acknowledged that Carpenters Road won't be opening up anytime soon.
And so the pre-Olympic gates remain, sealing off the estate from prosperity to the north. If you could drive through the gloom past the buddleia you'd emerge at the foot of QEOP's Loop Road, with the Aquatic Centre immediately ahead. All the wealth of Westfield is merely footsteps away, indeed still is if you exit via the footbridge across the Jubilee line by Stratford station. Thousands of Londoners would love to live here if the housing stock were upgraded, on the doorstep of a transport hub and Europe's largest shopping mall. Private developers should be licking their lips at the prospects of 23 acres of newbuild apartments because East London redevelopment opportunities don't come much more prime than this.
But if you're sitting there Googling estate agents and mulling a mortgage, then you are the demons the residents of the Carpenters Estate fear most. They'd far rather remain somewhere they've put down roots, somewhere affordable, somewhere called home, without the threat of richer folk swooping in. As yet there's no sign that Newham has an economically viable plan for any form of upgrade, which should delay the moment of social cleansing a little longer. A wave of affluence is approaching but, while the Olympic gates remain locked shut, this semi-boarded-up village is going nowhere fast.
This week sees the inaugural Roman Road Festival in Bow, E3. It exists partly because Tower Hamlets Council gifted £10000 to every ward in the borough, and Bow West and Bow East ganged together to help create this. You'll be pleased to hear they also chose to fund youth football, timebanking and increased antisocial behaviour patrols, but this week's community celebration is the highest profile project. The festival aims to showcase heritage and entertainment from the area in conjunction with local businesses, bringing footfall and an increased sense of community to the Roman Road.
There are balloons. There's also a surprisingly packed programme of events, 44 in all, stretching from last Sunday to next. Meet-ups are taking place every weeknight this week, including an origami workshop tonight, a pop-up evening of short sci-films tomorrow, and an E3-based UnPub quiz on Friday. July 6th sees an all day street fair including craft stalls, street food and live music, which is the sort of thing you can organise on a Sunday when the famous market's closed. And everything kicked off a couple of days back with a day long programme of walks, tours and exhibitions, some based in cafes and laundrettes, others out on the street. Several of Sunday's events even survived without being decimated by the rain. I attended one of the intermediately damp ones.
At 3pm a small crowd gradually flickered into existence outside the front of Bow Idea Store. Some had turned up deliberately, but most were drawn in by the unusual sight of a red-robed queen and a man in a toga. A Live History Trail was imminent, as the drama group's spokeswoman explained, the intention being to act out a few key scenes from Bow's past and to walk up and down the Roman Road a bit in the process. And Bow has some pretty good history, all told, plenty enough for an amateur dramatic ensemble to get its teeth into.
The first playlet featured a Roman soldier, given that the old road from London to Colchester ran this way, although Roman Road didn't earn its name until a sarcophagus was uncovered close by in 1844. I always like it when a local event throws up some fact I never knew about my neighbourhood, so this afternoon's was already a winner. Bow's biggest brush with royalty came in the 12th century when Queen Matilda took a tumble while crossing the Lea at Old Ford. She ordered a stone bridge to be built to save future travellers from the same fate, a bow-shaped bridge that later gave the area its name. A charming vignette told the story, occasionally drowned out by a passing plane, or interrupted by some punter wandering through to change a library book.
The crowd was really quite mixed by this point. One mum who'd been passing stopped with a gasp when she saw a woman with a crown, clearly unfamiliar with the concept of real life drama, and hung on to watch the next bit. An old couple sitting outside Cafe Creme finished off their frothy coffee and chocolate cake and smiled at the playful patter. Three local lads, one with boxers showing, paused awhile to see what the man in the felt hat was doing (he was being Mr Samuel Pepys, erstwhile visitor to Bow). The performance certainly touched those who saw it, though few of the unintentional audience could be persuaded to follow the actors up the street when time came to move on.
Unusually, but pleasingly, Bow's history is rich in strong female characters. As well as the aforementioned Queen, we're famed for the matchgirls strike of 1888 and the campaigner Annie Besant who brought it to the public's attention. The Suffragettes also had a very strong local presence, hence our walk down the street was accompanied by a Votes For Woman placard and a bit of a singsong. The two lead actors also enjoyed booming down the Roman Road, am-dram style, and cajoling passers-by to join us. Alas the most likely-looking pair of new spectators weren't tempted by a short suffragette scene round the back of a carpet shop and slipped inside a pub to watch the World Cup instead.
And then came the unexpectedly poignant segment of the tour, with a visit to W.F. Arber & Co at number 459. This printshop opened in 1897 and has been a family concern ever since, with octogenarian Gary the third generation to man the presses. His grandfather printed handbills for Sylvia Pankhurst, and jobs are still completed on pre-war machinery using movable type. Or rather they were until May. Gary's livelihood has been thwarted by the twin prongs of increased business rates and CCTV-imposed parking fines - he's no fan of the current council. Retirement finally beckoned, a big CLOSED sign went up in the window, and various ancient printing presses were lugged off to Norfolk for safekeeping.
Sunday, it turned out, was the final day of clearing out the old workshop. Mr Arber appeared at the door with his wife, tired from clearing and chucking out, to regale our party with anecdotes from the past. He told us how George Lansbury used to pop in to get his printing done - George was the latest character in our history trail, and a surreal performance then played out in front of the knackered retiree. Gary wanted to get back to his pile of boxes, but graciously stayed and acknowledged the heartfelt cheers of the crowd, very much aware that they were present at the closing of a chapter. Yesterday was moving out day, and as of today there is no Victorian printshop on the Roman Road, the era has passed. (the Gentle Author has chronicled Arber's in loving prose and photos for posterity, see 2010, 2010, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2014) (or listen to a 14 minute interview with Gary here)
It had started to rain before we took our leave, and the downpour became more inclement as we approached the last stop on the journey, The Albert pub. Spectators took shelter by the coffee cart and pop-up bike repair tent to watch final performances recounting the Blitz and Bow's Olympic rebirth. There was a definite sense that some of Bow's more middle class residents had gathered to extol the area's heritage while the remainder of the community pushed buggies home, sped by on bikes or drank up in the pub. But as first days of inaugural festivals go, I think the organisers will have been well pleased by the turnout, and E3 is slightly richer as a result.
Or you can exit Titsey to the southwest towards Oxted. The walking route again follows the North Downs Way, a long distance path I'm becoming increasingly enamoured with thanks to its linear elevation. This particular mile-long section runs along the foot of the escarpment, with thick woodland above, rapeseed fields below and dry chalk underfoot. On the map it looks straight, whereas the reality is a light wiggle, occasionally diverting around a toppled tree trunk blocking the path. Only the motorway broke the silence, otherwise it was just me and the butterflies and the occasional surprised rabbit. And then partway along I found the Meridian marker I'd been hunting for. I think the panel was meant to be at the very top of the field but midsummer growth had encroached somewhat, forcing someone to trim a deep notch in the hedgerow so it could still be seen. The plaque was installed by Surrey County Council and the Vanguards Rambling Club, the latter custodians of a 66 mile trail from Croydon to Newhaven. I'd seen nobody on either route, indeed I saw no other walkers whatsoever during two hours of traipsing Tandridge's byways. But here at this random spot due south of Greenwich, alone with nature, I'd not have had it any other way.
Beyond London (3): Tandridge (part 1)
I had feared that, bar the shops, there'd be little in Oxted to write about. Thank heavens then that I'd arrived on the one afternoon the town lets its hair down and parties... at the Oxted Carnival. Held every first Saturday in July since 1966, this annual shindig takes over Master Park at the bottom of the hill, and is unashamedly local. You might walk in from neighbouring Hurst Green or Limpsfield, but the carnival is really an opportunity for residents and organisations from Oxted to come together. The Rotary Club had a paddling pool full of rubber ducks to fish in, for example, while the Cystic Fibrosis tent housed a bottle tombola to put the nearest supermarket to shame. On the fringes an army officer, or a man dressed convincingly as one, waited patiently for anyone to approach so that he could talk to them about centenaries and stress. It being a bit early the bar tent hadn't quite taken off, and the Barn Theatre ladies were still declingfilming the sponges in their tea tent. But I swapped two pound coins for a tasty hotdog at the carnival committee's gazebo, this pure profit what with all the bread and squeezy ketchup having been kindly donated by Morrisons.
The Greenwich Meridian runs down the east side of Tandridge, approximately in line with the East Grinstead railway, including a direct hit on Oxted School and the Ellice Road Car Park. My target was the town's one public manifestation of the zero degree line, which is a centenary plaque on the front of Paydens the Chemists at the bottom of the parade. This is a splendid Tudorbethan pharmacy, its interior laid out rather how Boots used to be, with bottles and creams stacked neatly on shelves and a proper prescription counter at the rear. Look down low by the left of the front door and there's the meridian marker, cast in 1984, below a window display of small town pharmaceutical perfection. Lined up on the meridian itself are a strawberry-themed shower hat, a box of three rose-perfumed soaps and a St Moritz self tan applicator mitt. The first toiletry in the western hemisphere is an RHS Sweet Pea Body Balm, positioned close to the pièce de résistance - a bottle of blonde-pigtailed Matey bubble bath. It's the finest meridian marker I've seen in many a year. Meanwhile nextdoor, firmly in the eastern hemisphere, is Paydens Bookshop. Again it's everything you'd hope an local independent shop would be, with books giving way to an eclectic range of non-poncey stationery as you walk through. I succumbed, zero resistance.
Yes, Lingfield's where the racing is. It boasts one of the handful of all-weather racecourses in Britain, always usable but not always used. Last Saturday was an off-day, save for a team of groundsmen tending to the non-artificial bits, and the Arpa & Hemanshoo Wedding in the Pavilion Suite. The owners have made sure that the course is almost, but not completely, invisible from the road outside. Stand outside the main gate, which is a peculiar wooden-topped glass box with some turnstiles inside, and you can see a fraction of the outer rail, while a bit of the parade ring is visible through the conifers a little further down the road. So that was well worth my train ticket and a lengthy yomp across Tandridge, I thought. A dedicated footpath leads from the far end of the northbound platform, via which those coming by rail arrive at the races. More typical visitors come by car, and park up in fields labelled No Trespassing at all other times. Ah but this is more than a racecourse, this is the Lingfield Park Resort, complete with golf course for swinging executives and a four star hotel with jockeytastic views. I imagine many a corporate conference takes place within, although the reality next weekend appears to be a Whitney and Beyonce Tribute for all you Ladies out there.
After Bridge House the land opens out, first with a cultivated green strip which will one day be Gallions Reach Park. Not to be confused with the shopping centre of the same name, this reclaimed ecopark includes 800 trees and five conical-shaped hillocks to add character. It ought to be a pleasant place for recreation, except three years after its creation it's still undergoing a "period of establishment", and remains firmly fenced, gated and locked. All looked fine to me, and a woeful waste of resources, but maybe the developers are worried local youth might overrun the place and decapitate the saplings. Having observed a few, they might just be right.
I attend the public consultation event.
Was: East Greenwich Gas Works (1886-1976)
Was: Pura Foods Ltd vegetable oil refinery, Leamouth peninsula (until 2006)
Was: Some old white building by Stratford bus station (until 2012)
Walking the half-empty streets at the weekend, I saw one sure sign that development prospects have stalled. TfL had been due to direct bus services through the Carpenters Estate once the southern half of Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park opened. The D8 was pencilled in to be diverted up Carpenters Road in May, and a brand new bus shelter awaits overlooking the primary school. But the D8 can't run this way unless the road beneath the railway is unlocked, and there's no sign of that, so services have remained stubbornly along their previous alignment. Now suddenly two permanent D8 bus stops have been erected on Warton Road, helping to fill a long gap where for three years there'd been none, as if TfL have finally acknowledged that Carpenters Road won't be opening up anytime soon.
This week sees the inaugural Roman Road Festival in Bow, E3. It exists partly because Tower Hamlets Council gifted £10000 to every ward in the borough, and Bow West and Bow East ganged together to help create this. You'll be pleased to hear they also chose to fund youth football, timebanking and increased antisocial behaviour patrols, but this week's community celebration is the highest profile project. The festival aims to showcase heritage and entertainment from the area in conjunction with local businesses, bringing footfall and an increased sense of community to the Roman Road.
