What does the View From The Shard look like in thick fog? I think you can guess, but I've been up to check anyway.
I've never seen the visitor entrance to the Shard as busy as it was yesterday, and I've been up a lot. Back in January Londoners were offered a special annual season ticket, and it cost less a single ascent, so I snapped up one of those and have been back several times since. I've been up in sun, in no cloud, in low cloud, in rain and at sunset, the latter twice, with fog the only significant weather phenomenon that'd so far eluded me. Generally any fog burns off well before 10am, which is when The View opens up to the public, which is good news for any normal visitor wanting to go up top. But when a veil of grey descended over the capital and lingered right through Saturday morning, I felt I had to dash.
Saturday morning, especially in the run-up to Christmas, is a particularly popular time to pre-book a slot up the Shard. Families roll in from the suburbs and further afield, usually as a treat or for a celebration, and given how much they've paid no weather forecast will put them off. But in this case the news was bad, with a member of staff placed out front to pass on the gloomy message. "There is no view."
Conditions have to be pretty terrible not to be able to see Tower Bridge, which is less than half a mile away. St Paul's and the Gherkin aren't that much further, so are easily seen even in driving rain, meaning the weather can be abysmal and the Visibility Guarantee still doesn't apply. But fog is another matter - this is after all the tallest building in Western Europe - and then there's no quibble.
Families with over-optimistic printouts queued up at the cashdesks to get their dates swapped. "Sorry, it's quite busy over Christmas and New Year, the next Saturday we can do for you is 14th January. Or you can go up now, and if the sky clears that's your view, but if it doesn't then when you come back down we'll give you a voucher for another time." It's an impressively flexible offer, and precisely what's needed at such a weather dependent attraction, but still leaves most families somewhat out of pocket. Most of those queuing with me had travelled miles to be here, with rail tickets now in need of being booked again, or a tank of petrol gone to waste.
But the queue for the security check was still longer than I'd ever seen it before. Many people didn't believe the view could be that bad, or wanted to go up anyway because they were here, and then they could have their proper visit later. They waited patiently to have their photo taken - not for security, but so they could be flogged a print later, presumably in front of a less grey backdrop. They picked up an audio-visual guide to tell them more about what they could see, even though they probably wouldn't be able to see anything. And then they queued patiently for the lifts.
The first lift whisks you up 32 floors, unexpectedly quickly, and invariably makes your ears pop. There's then an interior shuffle, on a landing with no windows, before a further 35-floor ascent. I took the ride with more passengers than I'd ever been crammed in with previously, including a family here to celebrate their son's 9th birthday. You can probably imagine the look on Tom's face when Mum broke into a chorus of "Happy Birthday To You", and the relief on his reddened brow when none of the surrounding strangers joined in. You can also probably imagine his disappointment on reaching the 69th floor and discovering that there was indeed no view whatsoever. "Awww Mum, these are the most expensive clouds ever!"
Having been up the Shard several times before I know how excellent the view can be. It's no understatement to say that all of London is laid out below, often beneath a ragingly impressive sky. But not in fog. The view beyond the windows was uniformly white and featureless, with no hope of seeing any feature other than one's reflection. There was no way of telling you were on the highest viewing platform in London, suspended 240m above the Thames, and no easy way to imagine unless you'd been up before. It was just like being in an aeroplane while it climbs through clouds, an essentially pointless panorama.
Being British, several visitors put a brave face on it. They wandered around the enclosed floor and around the open Skydeck, a few internal staircases higher, to confirm that no view existed in any compass direction. They rang their friends to tell them they were up the Shard in fog. They took family photos to confirm their predicament, and offered their cameras to members of the Shard's staff to take some too. Their children carried activity sheets entitled 'Spot London's Famous Landmarks', even though a blank sheet of paper would have been more appropriate. Many didn't stay for very long.
Others turned inwards and took advantage of the only alternative entertainment, namely the bar. The operators know they have a captive audience up here, and also that many have turned up for a celebration, so the most-prominently promoted drink is a plastic goblet of champagne. Ten quid, kerching, and they've made even more easy money out of your visit. Alternatively at this time of year there's mulled wine, and a variety of bottled beers and soft drinks, and the hot chocolate sells well too because it's cold outside. Almost all the lingering visitors bought a beverage of some kind, and many sat down on the astroturf with their backs to the cloud, and slowly sipped.
Except not everything was white. If you lookedup, the sky was blue, not immediately above but higher. The tip ofthe building was in full illumination, such is the difference 60m makes, and swirls of cloud dissipated somewhere inbetween. Also the sun was visible, low in the winter sky, as a faint bleached disc beyond the enveloping mist. At one point the light brightened to the stage where it cast shadows on the Skydeck, hinting that perhaps the cloud might lift after all, but then it dissolved away again. I watched as wisps of cloud ducked through the gash on one side of the observation deck and out of the other, and marvelled at being so close to the upper limit of the atmospheric interface. I know you can see this kind of thing up a mountain any time, but rarely in such comfort.
The ultimate fog experience is to be present when the top of the cloud level dips below the observation deck. One member of staff told me he'd been working here for two years and never seen it. Another said it had happened that very morning, but only for the first fifteen minutes after opening, and she'd be fortunate enough to be on duty up top at the time. The whole of London had been covered by a blanket of sunlit cloud, with just the tip of One Canada Square in Docklands poking through, which must have looked amazing. But by quarter past ten the cloud had lifted slightly, and the view had disappeared, and it looked like staying disappeared for the rest of the day. Damn, missed.
Anyway, that's the ninth time I've been up the Shard this year, which I'd like to claim as one of the best London bargains ever. From that initial £20.16 outlay each individual ascent has cost me £2.24, which is phenomenal value for money compared to other central London attractions. Even better I didn't have to book my slots in advance, I could simply turn up, and at no time has the place been so busy they've turned me away. I got the weather conditions I wanted, and pinpoint visibility, not to mention dusk in burning red, whereas the pre-bookers had to make do with whatever they were given. Plus I got to see the sun yesterday, which is more than almost every other Londoner did.
There's no news yet on whether the Shard will offer a 'Love London' card special offer next year. They've already hiked the cost of this year's to £40.95, and it expires on New Year's Eve, and I bet most people who bought one didn't make nearly as much use of theirs as they intended. I'm still not sure I'd pay full whack just to go up once, it does seem steep, but thousands obviously do. Don't get me wrong, it's been amazing, but now I've overdosed I feel no urgent need to ever come back. And I'm glad I've seen the View From The Shard in fog, if only to reassure you not to bother.
It's Super Shopping Saturday, the last big commercial splurge before Christmas. It's the day everyone heads to their nearest retail hotspot to clog the streets and grab armloads of gifts. But with more and more people doing more and more of their Christmas shopping online, London's suburban retailers have had to raise their game. Here's a must-read list of must-do Christmas activities you need to visit today.
STANMORE WINTERVILLE
Your choice of mulled red liquid or a tumbler of eggnog from one of the buxom ladies in the Santa hats.
FINCHLEY CHRISTMAS FOREST
Several dozen fir trees, two days away from shedding all their needles, have been plumped up and are ready for sale.
EDMONTON ICE PALACE
All your favourite Frozen characters are brought to life with full size cut-outs around an artificial tinfoil glacier.
ROMFORD SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS
Come watch everyone's favourite John Lewis advert on the TV screen in the pawnbrokers' window.
HILLINGDON ICE RINK
As soon as the car park freezes over, bring your skates and glühwein to this annual ice treat (pre-booking recommended).
ILLUMINATED CRICKLEWOOD
All the streetlamps on the High Road are being kept lit this winter, allowing you to do your Christmas shopping in comfort.
CROUCH END PATTY STOP
Everyone loves a burger, so these have cranberry sauce in, and that allows us to charge two quid extra.
WALTHAMSTOW WONDERLAND
Join the stallholders in their Yuletide tents selling a range of red and green pan scourers for all your gift needs.
SOUTHALL HYGGE PAGEANT
We've written the word 'hygge' on some mugs and soft cushions, and unbelievably these will probably sell.
WILLESDEN MUSEUM OF MARZIPAN
Come together round our virtual fireplace to enjoy a slab of almond paste with a craft gin cocktail.
BETHNAL GREEN CRAFT FAIR
Hand-blown metal and chipped glassware can be sourced from the workshops in the arches under the railway.
DAGENHAM FESTIVE SHED
Rudolph and friends appear in inflatable form, welcoming your children to Santa's laser and tinsel hideaway.
TWICKENHAM DESIGNERFEST
Grab your last minute presents from the grinning elves with the knock-off and the surprisingly thin giftwrap.
BRIXTON FRAGRANCE VILLAGE
A chance to buy aftershave and perfume you can't normally buy except on every other day of the year, in gift boxes.
PENGE GERMAN MARKET
Some chancer with a grill in a van is selling spruced-up hotdogs beside a blackboard chalked up with umlauts.
SIDCUP PARK GROTTO
Follow the twinkly light trail across the recreation ground to the hut where an old man will surprise your children.
CHEAM HANDICRAFT POP-UP
Will you choose the bobble hat workshop, the mince pie masterclass or two hours of watching our expert roll candles?
MITCHAM MYSTERY TRAIL
Use our bespoke app to guide you through the stripy tents by the ring road on a unique urban shopping experience.
PURLEY BAVARIAN CHALETS
By wrapping shop-bought gingerbread in crinkly plastic with a big red ribbon, a considerable mark-up can be charged.
NEW ADDINGTON BIG SWITCH ON
One of last year's X Factor contestants has been invited to flick the switch on the fairy lights in the bookies' window.
Maths is a dull subject and numbers are hard, but that hasn't stopped the Science Museum from opening a brand new gallery devoted to the subject.
The Winton Gallery opened last week in the space where the previous Mathematics gallery used to be. It's been paid for by a City hedge fund manager, and named after his hedge fund, so we can all see where his love of the subject has come from. But if algebra frightens you don't worry, there is no algebra here. Indeed there are barely any numbers in the updated exhibition, only objects. Anything that smacks of pure mathematics has been stashed away in a store room somewhere, and what's on show is very much applied.
The first thing that strikes you about the new gallery is how pink and full of aeroplane it is. The aircraft suspended from the ceiling is a 1929 Handley Page biplane, and the pink floaty curve thing is a model of the airflow around the wings and fuselage, divided up into three non-intersecting vortices. Apparently scientists used some branch of maths called aerodynamics to help make the plane safer, which is good news next time you fly abroad, but what's really important here is how many likes your abstract arty pink photo is going to get when you upload it to Instagram.
Because Dame Zaha Hadid designed the layout of the gallery with this symmetrical swoosh at its heart, there isn't as much room as you'd expect left over for actual maths. The remainder of the room consists of four quadrants each with a few objects in glass cases, and a fair amount of circulation space. It's ideal for running around in and occasionally ducking underneath, which should make the new gallery an enormous hit with small children, even those who yet haven't learned to count.
Various themes are used to link each part of the collection together, cunningly named with titles like Form and Beauty rather than Difficult Equations so as not to put visitors off. The architecture bit for example has a big Georgian doorcase topped off by unmentioned types of triangle, and a scale model of the Nat West Tower which apparently stays up thanks to geometrical magic. Meanwhile the money section has all sorts of obsolete calculatingdevices, plus a water-filled machine which supposedly mimics the economy, which probably helps explain why the country was so poor in the 1950s.
An actual National Lottery machine is on display, namely Guinevere, whose buttons were pressed by Noel Edmonds in that very first draw when he released the balls. I'm not sure where E.R.N.I.E. went - he was definitely here before, and now it seems there isn't room. But there is a mechanical 'tote' device from Wembley Stadium whose weights and pulleys calculated the odds using something called trigonometry, whereas today's betting is all done with electronics so doesn't use mathematics at all. Also some wag has put two dice in a plastic case and called it probability, whereas everyone knows luck and skill are far more important.
Sir Isaac Newton doesn't get a mention, which serves him right for being old and irrelevant. But Florence Nightingale does - it seems she wasn't just good at nursing, she invented graphs as well. Visitors with long memories will enjoy the corner about how computers started, including several big boxes full of programming, and software like Lotus 1-2-3 on floppy discs which helped kickstart the Big Bang. Sadly there are no buttons to press, because everyone likes pressing buttons, but several exhibits get touchpad displays to explain more, should this be of any interest.
Yes, the Longitude problem gets a mention, because it always does. Yes there are old weights and measures, because they're obligatory in every historical museum. Yes there's an Enigma machine, because codebreaking is sexy and can change the world. But no, there are no longer several shelves of polyhedra made out of coloured cardboard like there were in the gallery's last incarnation, because that smacks too much of a dusty maths classroom. And as for the lovingly-curated history of punched cards which used to cover one corner of the room, compiled from photos, diagrams, graph paper and inkjet-printed labels, I bet that'll never see the light of day again.
The strangest thing about the mathematics gallery is how it doesn't feel much like a mathematics gallery at all. Most of the objects you could easily imagine elsewhere in the museum, in some differently themed gallery - the aeroplane in Flight, the astronomical clock in Time, the early microcomputer in Communication and the hospital survival predictor in Medicine. It's almost as if the person who put the exhibition together was trying to tell us that maths underpins everything, whereas that's clearly ridiculous because nobody ever uses long division after they leave school.
That nerdy kid in your maths class with the spectacles would definitely enjoy the new Winton Gallery. What's more they're probably in a really well paid job by now, like finance or computing or engineering or risk management or architecture or oceanography or any number of the careers hinted at by the new displays. If you're the parent of an inquisitive child, who knows, a visit might even help persuade them that maths could be an exciting part of their future. Because it turns out that what's really important about numbers isn't how hard they are, but what we do with them.
Asked by: Bob Blackman (Harrow East) Asked on: 08 December 2016 Department for Transport
To ask the Secretary of State for Transport, what representations his Department has received from (a) the Mayor of London and (b) Transport of London on the cost of the Croxley Rail Link; and whether the Government plans to provide additional funding to support the development of that link.
Answered by: Andrew Jones Answered on: 13 December 2016
Since taking over management of the Croxley Rail Link in November 2015, Transport for London (TfL) has been reviewing the main work contracts. From discussions between officials in the Department and in TfL, we are aware that, as a result of prices received from the supply chain, the costs of the scheme are currently higher than the agreed budget. We understand TfL is considering how best to deal with this.
At a meeting with the Mayor on 5 December the Secretary of State for Transport re-confirmed the importance that the Government attaches to the scheme which will deliver significant transport benefits and significantly boost economic growth in Watford and the wider north west London area. Indeed, the Government, together with local councils and the Local Enterprise Partnership, has already committed substantial funding to this scheme and nearly 85% of the total budgeted cost.
Under the terms of the funding agreement in place for the scheme, TfL committed to the agreed budget of £284.4m and so agreed to meet any costs incurred over that budget. Conversely, they would retain the full amount of any cost savings. The Department will not be providing any additional funding for the scheme and expects TfL to complete it as agreed.
Friday update:London Reconnections now has a (very) full report on what's going on. In brief, the project's finance was transferred last year to TfL's Growth fund, which is used to support housing development and regeneration in London, except the project's not in London, which is awkward, and its costs may just have risen by £70m, which is even more awkward, so TfL would really like to cancel the project, but they may not be allowed to, but they might anyway. Don't get your hopes up.
Five years ago today the Department for Transport confirmed £76m of central government funding that would finally allow the Croxley Rail Link to go ahead. Five years later I thought I'd go down and see how things were getting on. That'll be an interesting post, I thought, which (after a bit of digging) turned out to be an understatement. So here's my report from the site of the Metropolitan line extension, or MLX, a project which has just been reclassified/delayed/sidelined/scrapped by TfL. I'm sure someone'll tell us which soon.[25 photos]
Five years ago the Croxley Rail Link was scheduled to be up and running by January 2016. If you stand at the bottom of Baldwins Lane, where the new railway is due to branch off across a new viaduct, it's very clear this hasn't happened. The precise point of departure is above the backlot of the Croxley Car Centre, a business still very much in trading, and a familiar sight since I used to walk this way to school. Meanwhile the shield of trees on the opposite embankment has been stripped away in readiness to proceed, but long enough ago that some regrowth has already sprouted back. All that's happened here recently is that a sewer beneath the current railway bridge has been fractionally diverted, to nudge it out of the way of the new link when it comes, leaving a jagged tarmac scar across the road. This 30m-long trench is the only significant piece of infrastructure work to have taken place on the MLX project in the last three months.
The 400m viaduct will then sweep across the premises of Cinnamond Group Ltd, a long-standing company who offer windows, conservatories and full-scale demolition services, though they won't be completely levelled themselves. One of the new piers is scheduled to be plonked slap bang in the middle of their existing entrance off the Two Bridges roundabout, so their lorries will need a less convenient way in, which they're not best pleased about. The viaduct then crosses the A412, very close to the existing pelican crossings, before slicing through a children's playground. This'll be closed while construction takes place, whenever that might be, but reinstated afterwards (as a facility more exciting than the existing swing'n'slide combo).
Close by is the site of Croxley Green station, former terminus of the disused railway line the MLX aims to follow. An ancient Network South East sign and noticeboard stood here until 2013, now belatedly removed. The locked gate at the foot of the stairs up to the platform has vanished too, replaced by a large temporary barrier lodged across the gap in the fence, making it much more difficult for any trespassers to sneak through. The old station embankment is not part of the upgrade plan so has been left to decay, and was part of a land swap Herts County Council hoped to use to help pay off TfL. Not so fast, said TfL, you might think this earthwork has a notional value of £1.8m, but in reality you acquired it from National Rail for £1, so it's worthless to us. Continued obsolescence looks the most likely outcome.
The intended route of the new railway swings past the corner of the Sea Scouts hut, which survives, then soars across the Grand Union Canal. Several narrowboats are tied up here, at homely moorings their owners used to think were permanent, but at least a couple will be forced to move on and take their huts, gnomes, signs and gardens with them. On the far side of the parallel River Gade the deforesters have been hard at work, removing trees and undergrowth along the broad path trains may one day follow. The land looks ready for occupation by diggers, should that instruction ever be given, but for now it's fenced off behind a few disjoint temporary barriers. A sign attached to the railings warns Keep Out, and offers an 0343 phone number to ring "if you have any questions about the Metropolitan Line Extension". I was sorely tempted.
Cassiobridge is due to be the first new station on the MLX, perched above Ascot Road where the viaduct meets the disused railway alignment. You'd never know from looking. An overgrown public alleyway runs up the embankment, behind all the new flats where Sun Printers used to be, passing a locked gate at the top. Peer through and you'll see the entire railway corridor has had an extreme lawnmowering, leaving ample room for the installation of a couple of platforms on either side. But there are none, the land's merely been made ready for construction, which when the proposed opening date is still four years off should come as no surprise.
The best view of what's going on comes half a mile down the line at Hagden Lane. This is where Watford West station used to be, closed in 1996 and nature left to take its course. When I visited in 2011 the entire line was a forest, with thickly-spaced trees rising well above bridge level... and now all that has gone. Again all the undergrowth has been professionally stripped back, as it has along the entire line, revealing the old tracks, a denuded cutting and the long lost station platform. There are even six lampposts still in situ, painted in Network South East red, because the project hasn't yet required their removal. But I was struck by how much time and money has already been pumped into preparing the disused railway line for use, the first stages of the transformation now complete.
New station number two will be the clumsily named WatfordVicarage Road. Unsurprisingly this is on Vicarage Road, a ten minute walk from a well-known Premiership football ground, but that's not the reason it's been sited here. There'd need to be a good reason, because the road crosses the former railway at a narrow bridge with one-way traffic controlled by traffic lights, which is hardly ideal. Down below are the remains of Watford Stadium halt, used by Division 1 crowds in the Eighties, its platform recently uncovered from beneath a shroud of trees and still with lampposts standing tall. And it's on the far side of this, beyond a very minor housing estate, Watford's redevelopment whirlwind has swept in.
Blimey, I really hadn't been expecting all this. Last time I was here in 2013 a desolate track led under the old railway to the Cardiff Road Industrial estate, an unwelcoming collection of automotive businesses and breakers yards. It was still possible to hike up the embankment at this point and walk along the disusedtracks, stepping carefully round and through thickets and branches, across an offshoot of the River Colne and into an abandonednetherworld. Today the path beneath the bridge is firmly fenced off and the former industrial estate has been wiped away, and every obstruction that enveloped the tracks above has been removed.
For this is the edge of the new Watford Health Campus, a 20 year plan to fill 72 acres of underused land with new hospital facilities, business outlets and hundreds of homes, and very much the darling project of the town's elected Mayor. This section of the railway marks the southern perimeter of the site, and having a new Underground station close by is a key part of delivering all the benefits the new scheme will bring. The tracks bend round at a former junction, still visible from open land just off the Ebury Way cycle route, then pass out into a broad pre-landscaped building site where they become indistinct.
A shiny new link road to Watford General Hospital has just been opened, called Thomas Sawyer Way, complete with expensive bridge to cross the non-existent railway. I was surprised how underused it was, but that's because ambulances are the only vehicles allowed through the 'link' at the Vicarage Road end and ordinary Watfordians are only permitted as far as the hospital car park. Numerous metal warehouses are being erected at what will soon be Trade City, followed later by affordable housing on land nearer to the new station. Imagine the impact if that station were cancelled, and all sorts of important planning and investment decisions made over the last five years turned out to be based on an incorrect version of the future.
The final stretch of the new extension passes fresh gabion walls, then vanishes up the side of an old redbrick industrial estate to one last bridge under Wiggenhall Road. This is where the Metropolitan line extension will join the existing Overground line, sharing tracks in timetabled gaps on the run up to Watford High Street and Watford Junction. Six trains an hour are planned at peak times and four off-peak, which could be a gamechanger for the infrastructure of South West Herts. Those living near the existing Watford Met station might be delighted if the project were to fail. But if what lies ahead for the MLX is more than just delay, it's cancellation, that'd surely be an opportunity fumbled, a dream wasted, and an open goal missed.
But what might be more important is what the 80-page document doesn't contain. One major Underground project, I'm sorry to say, has completely disappeared. It should be in this list and it isn't.
The Metropolitan line extension to Watford Junction appears to have been cancelled.
There is mention of the Bakerloo line extension, which Sadiq is attempting to fast-track. There is mention of the Northern line extension to Battersea, even if somebody at City Hall can't spell. And there is mention of the London Overground extension to Barking Riverside, which will unlock the development of tens of thousands of homes. But of the Metropolitan line extension there is no mention at all.
The previous version of the TfL Business Plan was published in March by the outgoing Mayor. It specifically mentioned the Metropolitan line extension, indeed the project had its own paragraph. The new draft Business Plan has nothing.
The 'vision for the London Underground' in the previous version specifically mentioned the Northern and Metropolitan line extensions. The new draft Business Plan mentions only the Northern and the Bakerloo.
In the appendix to the new draft Business Plan we learn that the Northern line extension is due to cost £612m over the five years from 2017 to 2022. We learn that the Barking Riverside extension is due to cost £82m over the same period. But the list doesn't mention the Metropolitan line extension at all, even though contributory funding from Hertfordshire County Council and the DfT is already confirmed.
The Metropolitan line extension was due to link the existing Watford branch to Watford Junction via a new viaduct and a disused railway line. Trains would no longer serve the current terminus at Watford Met, but two new stations would be built at Cassiobridge and Watford Vicarage Road. Or at least that was the plan.
The Metropolitan line extension was given the go-ahead by government five years ago this week, with Hertfordshire County Council originally in control. They found running the project difficult, with the end result that budgets rose and timescales slipped. Last year full responsibility for the extension was handed from HCC to London Underground, with the project due for completion by the end of 2020.
And now it seems that London Underground have decided not to proceed. They might have kicked the project so far into the future that it falls outside the scope of a five year business plan, but that seems unlikely. They might have decided there's insufficient money for the extension, and published the draft Business Plan hoping nobody will notice. Or they might have accidentally forgotten to mention it, and all is still on track.
Here's why I don't think the omission is an accident.
Every three months TfL hold a Community Liaison Group to discuss the Metropolitan line extension with a panel of local stakeholders, and the minutes of these meetings are posted on the project's webpage. In the latest minutes, dated 5th October 2016, we learn that the project is being held up while TfL try to find a new construction partner.
Nothing has happened on site since that liaison meeting except some minor work relating to the diversion of two sewers and a few BT cables. I've even been down and looked. Much vegetation has already been cleared and the trackbed has been levelled, but no construction vehicles are present and no start on the key connecting viaduct has been made. While TfL reconsider their finances and escalating costs, any work of any physical significance has been put on hold.
Most tellingly, the minutes contain this exchange between Philip Brading (Three Rivers councillor, and Chair) and Paul Judge (TfL's acting lead for the Metropolitan line extension project).
In other words, when the councillor asked in October whether the new Mayor was still interested in the project, he was told to wait for publication of the Mayor's Transport Strategy. We now have that document, in the form of the TfL Business Plan, and the Metropolitan line extension gets absolutely no mention whatsoever. The only logical conclusion is that the Metropolitan line extension is no longer a priority, and has been dropped.
If that is the case, it's enormously disappointing. A project that's been on the drawing board for 40 years, and funded for five, has slipped silently back into oblivion. It's also perhaps not unexpected. Sadiq's fare freeze has put TfL's finances under enormous pressure, so it was always looking likely that a major project would have to be cut. And it's also highly embarrassing. Sadiq has made a big thing of being trustworthy enough to take over suburban rail services around the capital, and here he is scrapping a project just outside London transferred to him by the local county council.
As a Croxley boy, born and bred, I'd very much like to be wrong. I'd like to hope that the omission of the Metropolitan line extension from the draft TfL Business Plan is nothing more than an administrative error, but it appears to be more deliberate than that. Who deleted it, and why, and when were they thinking of telling us?
✉ Today sees the official start of the first direct railway service between London Marylebone and Oxford. But unofficially the first trains ran yesterday, because the second Sunday in December is St Timetables Day when all the schedules change. A couple of years ago Chiltern Railways spent a few million joining their mainline to the previous Bicester spur, and today's fresh connection to Oxford is the end result. I didn't get the first train because that was always going to be full of Men Who Like New Track, but I followed close behind and had a splendid easy scenic hour-long ride.
✉ Bicester Village must be the only station in Britain where on-train announcements are made in English, Chinese and Japanese. It's probably also the only station whose name has been changed from XXX Town to XXX Village, such is the dominance of the adjacent designer outlet park. The train cleared out quite a bit after that. Next up is Islip, a proper village with a fortuitous service, and then Oxford Parkway. Until yesterday this car park was the end of the line and you needed to board a bus for the last bit. Now fresh rails and two new platforms deliver all souls to Oxford proper, avoiding the often nightmarish traffic, in a far-sighted triumph of infrastructural planning. A man in a top hat greeted us as we alighted.
✉ What a wonderful museum the Ashmolean is. Not only is it Britain's oldest, but in 2009 the Queen opened a huge extension and the end result is magnificent. The space is divided between art and archaeology, with rather more of the latter, and the end result is like walking round a modern cross between the British Museum and the V&A. As well as reams of Roman and Greek treasures, the Ashmolean intelligently celebrates the contributions of several civilisations from further east, and all the Chinese and Japanese tourists thronging Oxford's streets would do well to look inside.
✉ Every December for the last ten years a sea of dressed-up Santas has run through Oxford in support of a local hospice. They run on a Sunday morning, to minimise disruption, and they run early, so by the time I arrived most of them had finished their two mile stint. What was amazing was then seeing the centre of Oxford overrun by two thousand red-suited participants, either milling around waiting for the shops to open or heading home. There were Santas queueing at bus stops, Santas swarming over the Christmas market, Santas filling the windows in Starbucks, and whole families of Santas wandering aimlessly dangling their celebratory carrier bags. Oxford when the students have gone home is a very different city.
✉ It's Interview Time at the University, when potential students arrive for a brief stay and try to impress enough to come back properly next year. They wheel their suitcases across unfamiliar cobbles, in expectation or in awe, and try to locate the historic rooms where they'll be lodging overnight. A few of this year's students have stayed on to make them welcome, while all the others have been cast out so sufficient beds are free. I remember my parents dropping me off here a third of a century ago, for brief immersion into a peculiar world of tradition, drinks parties and open-ended questions. I must have answered them OK, because they invited me back, but none of the other 24-hour friends I'd made ever resurfaced.
✉ In common with the majority, my college was closed yesterday to all visitors, even old students. I could have nipped in through the back gate, past the stairs down to the washing machines, but better not. Instead I crossed the street to reminisce about the student accommodation I lived in during my first year, designed by no less an architect than the bloke who dreamt up the Skylon. I was disturbed to see that my room appears to have been turned into a communal kitchen as part of a recent refurbishment, although anything that got rid of the previous kitchen with its clunky electric ring has got to be an improvement. A potential student with a wheelie suitcase was looking lost, so I claimed former knowledge, and she then walked off in the opposite direction. I bet she wondered who the old bloke was.
✉ The Cowley Road has changed a lot since my year spent living out of college. The shops have perked up rather, or maybe it's just that consumerism has moved on, selling trifles that no previous student or local resident would have needed. Burgers are now served sitting down, the Thai restaurant that once seemed novel now seems commonplace, and there's a betting shop where the Chinese takeaway used to be. Checking out the prices in the estate agent's window beneath my former boxroom I'm disturbed to see that rents are now so high they'd have wiped out my entire grant in one month flat. I bet the pelican crossing beneath the window still keeps the current occupant awake at night. Glory days.
✉ I never walked to Iffley when I lived here, nor ever realised what was at the end of the Iffley Road, but a mention in Bill Bryson's latest book persuaded me I should go. Head south and Oxford's suburbs slowly merge into a medieval village, with Cotswold stone cottages and a pub along one meandering street. It's not quite as lovely as an actual Cotswold village, but an impressive survivor given its location, and St Mary's has been described as the finest Norman church in Britain. The interior has lofty Romanesque arches, and several of its stained glass windows are genuine 12th century, rounded off with some splendid John Piper infill. By dropping in between Sunday services I got the entire building to myself.
✉ The Thames Path runs past Iffley Lock, and a chain of (partly-flooded) water meadows. This is the furthest point on a popular constitutional stroll from the centre of town, which perhaps explains the survival of the Isis Farmhouse, a pub inaccessible other than by towpath. In summer the outdoor tables overlooking the banks are full, whereas winter opening hours are rather shorter and yesterday only a couple of couples braved the weather. Now that term is over hardly any rowers are out on the river, being shouted at by an encouraging cyclist, and the long row of architecturally-intriguing college boathouses stands empty awaiting next year's glories.
✉ The train's £25 return, off-peak, whether you choose to travel the new way via High Wycombe or the old way via Reading. An easy day out, and with plentyto see, even in December.
One of London's newest tourist attractions can be found in Stratford, a short walk from Westfield and the big slide at the Orbit. It's the Olympic Stadium, now more properly known as London Stadium, in the heart of Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park. Tours began running daily in August, matchdays excepted, and I think it's fair to say they haven't been publicised especially widely.
The target audience is interesting. The stadium is the home of London 2012, so you might expect a significant Olympic slant, and indeed there's some of that. But it's also the home of West Ham United, so what you're really getting is a look behind the scenes of a Premiership football club. What's more it's a club with 120 years of history, but only four months of them here in Stratford, so there's not a great deal of backstory in situ.
This is a multimedia tour, so you wander around with headphones and a dangly screen to discover more about the thirteen locations on the trail. A number of red-jacketed hosts are located along the way to tell you more, officially known as Tour Experience Makers, who as well as knowing their stuff are also keen to take a souvenir photo.
Turn up on the day and a tour costs £19, book online in advance and it's £17, and I took advantage of a recent festive offer which knocked another 25% off that. Judging by how much there was to see, which is a lot but not that much, I think I got the right deal.
To start the tour, pre-booked or otherwise, you turn up at the Stadium Store on the south side of the outer podium. A sign outside indicates 'Tours' downstairs via the lift, but ignore that, the window you want is in the main West Ham shop just to the right of the tills. Here you get a plastic token, and then you have to walk a third of the way round the perimeter of the stadium to present this at the main hospitality entrance. This is where all the VIPs entered for the Olympics, and where the players and West Ham elite enter today, so watch out for Baroness (Karren) Brady at the turnstile.
Your multimedia gizmo is the key to the tour so make sure you understand how it works, particularly how to go back if you ever press something too early. And then you're off up the escalators, rising through the glitzy atrium past the medal wall to enter the secret world of the VIP lounge. This is Royal East, the drinking spot for esteemed members and their guests before, during and after a big game. You can tell it's important because of the champagne bottles arranged behind the bar and because a lot of the decor is coloured gold. The nicest touches are the big gold rings suspended from the ceiling, à la Opening Ceremony, while various designs around the walls purport to celebrate the team's East End roots. Rather less necessary, I'd suggest, is the advertising screen which blares out every couple of minutes with an advert for Heineken.
Hurrah, it's time to step out into the posh seats and look down over the interior of the stadium. It does look good from up here, with the new roof holding up the trademark triangular floodlights, now pointing down within. The pitch doesn't seem too far away either, although there is a surprisingly large ring ofhiddenspace before the temporary seating over the athletics track begins. The chairman's enclosure is nextdoor - his lot get padded red seats, everyone else gets plastic white. And while everything around now screams football, squint a bit and you can almost imagine the Queen up here, parachute discarded, as the Games began below.
That's it for upstairs, bar sight of a few other (lesser) bars on the way down. You're then down at car park level, joining the route the players take before a match, before turning off into the changing rooms. The showers are tiled claret, white and blue, obviously. The changingarea feels low key in comparison, merely a horseshoe of booths for hanging clothes, each with a power point and USB port for in-match charging. The far end's quite bleak, with bins and drinks and a big electronic clock to count down to the whistle, but I guess the empty floor space is needed to accommodate all the testosterone and banter. The tour doesn't visit the away team changing room. but I'm told it's not as nice.
One genuine Olympic leftover remains, which is the warm-up track where the athletes limbered up before racing. Only six lanes wide and barely long enough for a sprint, this critical facility was squeezed into a breezeblock void under the lower seating, now opposite the corridor running past the changing rooms. This change of focus is welcome because it allows the audio-visual guide to deviate from football, although the three files on offer are more audio- than -visual and lacking somewhat in oomph. It also provides the main upselling opportunity of the tour, as staff encourage your party to stand in front of a green screen clutching a variety of medal-winning props, which (for £10) can later be turned into framed photos, keyrings or fridge magnets. I declined, no pressure.
Next up is the opportunity to visit the Flash Interview Rooms, a suite of seven cubbyholes where players and managers go to stand in front of a wall of sponsors' logos and pontificate about how the match went. That's the lowlight of the tour, whereas considerably more atmospheric is the walk down the tunnel to pitchside, emerging into the stadium bowl at ground level. Explore the exclusive section where the substitutes and managers sit, then take a seat on the plush airline-style seats in the dugout and marvel at quite howfar away the touchline seems.
What fills this chasm is the athletics track, safely hidden away beneath red and green carpeting, and hugely more evocative than all the West Ham dressing plonked on top. You're actually standing on the home straight where dozens of London 2012 medals were won, but the multimedia guide chooses to feature West Ham performances instead - presumably because the copyright was easier.
Altogether the tour took me an hour and a half, but only because I'd watched everything the electronic device had to offer, so don't be tempted to skip ahead too quickly. On departure from the stadium expect to be offered a voucher for a free personalised tour certificate and some money off in the cafe, which sounds generous but is really a ploy to lead you back into the bowels of the West Ham store. If you're a fan, this will be exactly what you want - the opportunity to buy a plethora of replica shirts and hammer-shaped memorabilia, perhaps as that ideal Christmas gift. I waited for my certificate to be printed and left.
In conclusion, if you're coming to enjoy Olympic goosebumps, these are in relatively short supply. What you're getting with a London Stadium tour is a look behind the scenes at West Ham United, in an arena that once held some famous athletics. More to the point you're getting a tour of a modern football stadium without (as yet) a lot of football backstory. Having done the Arsenal stadium tour, this felt surprisingly similar - the executive bar and terrace, the changing rooms, the pitch - only without quite so much silverware on show. I'm glad I've been, but if you're not sure you'd enjoy it, save your money.
I got in early. Not as early as some, but still early enough to be user number 54943, and for this to be one of the first million tweets.
Concerned that this might be pointlessly addictive. posted by diamondgeezer [10:15 AM Dec 10th, 2006]
I fear I nailed it on that very first tweet.
My next was more mundane.
Having a nice cup of tea posted by diamondgeezer [11:10 AM Dec 10th, 2006]
Everything was more mundane on Twitter in those days, the general idea being to tell a handful of followers what you were doing. That soon changed.
Along came links, and replies, and pictures, and adverts, and Twitter became less about what people had to say for themselves and more about what they'd seen other people say.
Twitter is now full of people noticing stuff and bringing it to your attention. It's full of people commenting on stuff and hoping you agree. It's full of carefully crafted marketing collateral obligingly retweeted. It's full of people showing off what they're doing so all their followers will be impressed. It's full of people chatting, often hidden from sight, but forgetting they're doing it entirely in public. It's full of happiness and joy, but also trolls and hate. And all in 140 characters or less.
Worryingly it's also created millions of filtered bubbles offering only opinions with which we already agree. Along with Facebook it may have helped to polarise society and deliver electoral shock. It is both brilliant and dangerous.
I'm a big fan. But then I'm not a particularly typical Twitter user.
Since starting out ten years ago I've tweeted less than 3000 times. That might sound a lot, indeed it's an average of one tweet every 30 hours, but most regular users are tweeting a heck of a lot more than that. I know this because I've checked all the people I follow on Twitter to see how often they tweet. The average is 8 times a day, not once, which means most of these people have tweeted tens of thousands of times since joining up. I'm not typical, I'm almost mute, because I'm not offering a running commentary on my life.
Since starting out ten years ago I've gained over 7000 followers. This is indeed a lot, indeed it's an average of more than two a day, which seems ridiculous for someone who doesn't tweet a lot. I actually have more followers than tweets, which for an unverified tick-free account is quite rare. And OK, so about a third of my followers turned up in the aftermath of the post-Leave Romford skinhead t-shirt debacle in the summer, which isn't exactly proper. But I am duly honoured by that total, and blimey.
I only follow 80 people. This is ridiculously low, I've discovered, again by comparing myself to all the people I follow on Twitter. Most of them follow over 400 different accounts, often well over, and a quarter of them follow more than 1000. This means that every time they log in they're simply dipping into a stream, and much of what their followers tweet passes by unseen. I'm very much not typical because I make sure I read every single thing my 80 people tweet. It is a very carefully curated list.
In total, 58 of the 80 people I follow follow me back, which is nice. Ten of the 80 were on Twitter before I was, and 50 joined before the site got really popular in 2009. Less than ten of them are nationally famous, which I suspect is a lower celeb-total than most. I've met 30 out of the 80 in person, which isn't bad, and been in the same room as another eight. More to the point there's at least another ten I'd really like to meet but never have, which just goes to show how disconnected from the real world this echo chamber of Twitter acquaintances really is.
I don't 'like' tweets much. I've only 'liked' about two tweets a month since I started, but then it turns out 'liking' is a variable thing. Several people never 'like' anything, while others 'like' stuff all the time as a silent way to show agreement, not simply appreciation. One person I follow has 'liked' 114000 tweets, which is an average of 30 a day, but hell why not, because it's free. I doubt I'd ever get on with Facebook, I don't 'like' enough.
But mostly, like I say, I don't tweet much. In particular I very rarely tweet what I've blogged. Most bloggers announce every fresh post with a tweet, because it's a great way to tell people there's something new to read. I don't do that, because I assume you've worked out by now that if it's 7am there's probably something new to read. If I had tweeted every fresh post since December 2006 I'd have tweeted an extra 4470 times, but I decided against because I thought it might have drowned out all the other stuff. So today, let's change that...
Ten years since I joined Twitter, I've started up a new Twitter account. It's specifically for tweeting when there's a new diamond geezer post to read, indeed that's all it'll ever do. It's called @diamondgzrblog, it's started up already, and you're very welcome to follow it.
How it works is clever. It checks my RSS feed every few minutes, and if a new post appears it tweets a tweet. Only the title of the tweet is included, which might be rather brief and uninformative. But each tweet also includes up to four pictures from the post, if there are any, and this might give a bit more of a flavour. It won't be pretty - the intention is not to create a carefully crafted promotional tweet, merely to issue a notification. Also I fear a lot of you will be asleep when it slips forth, but hey, it's better than nothing, and someone might just retweet it later.
And if you follow @diamondgzrblog then I can get on with tweeting not very much not very often on @diamondgeezer. I'll carry on attempting quality over quantity, and hope that this continues to work out. And whilst Twitter may one day evolve into a useless flabby platform wrecked by ill-judged features, let's hope it doesn't, and I'll still see you on there in another ten years' time.
Tenyears agotoday (sorry, it's a bit of retrospective week), one of East London's oldest railway lines closed down. On Saturday 9th December 2006 the very last purple and yellow Silverlink train passed through Stratford station, headed down to Canning Town, then wiggled through (and under) the Royal Docks to North Woolwich. The line wasn't especially well used, nor overly mourned, but that wasn't the reason they got rid. The North Woolwich spur was sacrificed so that three other projects could thrive, so I've been back to see how the transformation has been going. Spoiler - it's been going pretty well.
Stratford - the Overground Ten years ago the Overground was a funded pipedream. The Mayor had launched the orange roundel back in September and declared his aim for an orbital railway around London, but it'd be a year before there were any Overground trains. The North London line was a key part of the plans, but with trains to terminate at Stratford rather than running all the way through to North Woolwich. This required two new high level platforms to the north of the station, a switch which occurred in 2009, a couple of years before Westfield opened alongside.
Ten years later the new Overground platforms are a bustling fiefdom, and testament to the good sense of introducing the orbital Overground franchise. It might once have seemed incredible that quite so many people would want to travel this way, but now it seems incredible that they didn't before, such is the transformation wrought. New rolling stock and a more frequent, reliable service are to thank, which goes to show what a bit of integrated forward planning can achieve. Grab your seat in the standing-room only carriages, and the delights of Willesden, Richmond or even Clapham Junction await.
But isn't the rest of the station congested? And one of the reasons for this is that the old railway line to North Woolwich has been transferred to a different use. All the other tracks through Stratford station run through roughly parallel, but the North London line runs perpendicular underneath, essentially dividing the station in two. Most of the upper platforms straddle both halves, making it important to go down the correct staircase, whereas the other platforms are only in one half or the other, which makes for a lot of going up and going down again. If only the old Low Level line had been filled in rather than given to the DLR, getting about the station could have been a heck of a lot easier. Was never going to happen, obviously.
Stratford to Canning Town - the DLR Since 1999 this section of the North London line had doubled up alongside the Jubilee line, making it technically defunct. But it would have been a waste to have spare railway lines in East London and not use them, so they were reused, with plans drawn up before winning the Olympics made this essential. The DLR would throw out another branch from Canning Town up to Stratford, then curl round to a brand new station at Stratford International to connect with Eurostar. Along the way it'd fill in the gaps and stop at three new stations, serving insignificant bits of Newham previously skipped.
The Eurostar connection never happened, alas, so Stratford International remains woefully inappropriately named. But the new DLR branch opened in 2011, and five years later the section south of Stratford is actually quite busy. I've often wondered why. Anyone trying to get to West Ham or Canning Town could get there a lot quicker on the parallel Jubilee line, plus the trains are a lot more frequent than one every ten minutes. As for the three intermediate stops, Stratford High Street always feels woefully underused, while both Abbey Road and Star Lane serve grateful, but minor, local communities. There is no way that the green light would be given to these stations today, given the lack of new housebuilding alongside, but thankfully 2006 was a less mercenary time.
And so the DLR stops and starts where once the North London line held sway. Passengers now have the opportunity to travel direct to City Airport, rather than to a minor halt nearby, and can travel all the way to Woolwich rather terminating on the wrong side of the river. That's great. But the aftermath of the old line is still causing problems at Canning Town where trains arrive on a separate alignment, requiring inefficient interchange. Which platform's the next train to Woolwich leaving from, is it down here, or is it across and up and up again? A futuristic station modelled in the 1990s has been made less practical by changes in the 2000s, and passengers in the 2010s are paying the price.
Canning Town to North Woolwich - Crossrail Above all, shutting the eastern end of the North London line was a clever move designed to allow a far more important railway through. The groundwork had been laid the year before by extending another finger of the DLR to City Airport and the south side of the Royal Docks, so that residents wouldn't be disconnected when the old railway closed. Its path would then be reused by Crossrail, saving an inordinate amount of money by avoiding tunnelling, and allowing the new Custom House station to be built above ground. A fresh tunnel would then be dug beneath the Thames to extend Crossrail to Woolwich, although the DLR would get there ten years earlier.
Back in 2006 it was thought Crossrail would be up and running by now, indeed at the time the intended completion date was 2013! Not a chance. We do now have a rock solid deadline, and a phased introductory schedule, with the first trains through the central section running TWO YEARS FROM TODAY. In the meantime construction workers continue to swarm around every future station, flyover and portal, and tens of thousands of jobs will disappear when construction is complete. A fair number of those will be along what used to be the line to North Woolwich.
The first bit of reused track runs either side of Custom House. Trains running east from Canary Wharf will emerge on the old railway alignment via the Victoria Dock Portal, currently a twin bore of activity, topped off by a utilitarian box covered in brightly coloured slats in shades of orange and mostly purple. A short distance away the new Custom House station is substantially complete, though no less busy, and connected to an unsuspecting neighbourhood via a new broad footbridge. It's probably no coincidence that all the shutters are down at the first five shops on Normandy Terrace, while across the road is an Ibis hotel that hints at an markedly less lowbrow alternative future.
Past Prince Regent station Crossrail is taking advantage of the old line's tunnel beneath the dock, but because it's Victorian there's been lots to do. Several workmen are wandering on and beside the tracks, on both sides of the Connaught Tunnel, plus there's yet another worksite beneath the bridge in the middle. Along with all the usual security notices on the hoardings I was amused to see one targeted at Dairy Crest deliveries (DO NOT leave milk unattended!!!!) and broadcasting a telephone number for the milkman to ring instead.
Beyond the other end of the tunnel Silvertown station has been wiped from existence, and fresh rails now sweep up and under the one remaining footbridge. A small collection of shops survives, the sandwich bar I suspect kept in business only by Crossrail workers pausing for lunch, but it's sad to see the flats which replaced the local pub sitting with empty whitewashed spaces underneath, their retail potential vastly overrated. The long straight strip of railway which follows divides local housing from the enormous Tate and Lyle factory, previously fenced off with wire, but now sealed behind concrete walls six to ten feet high. Passengers travelling this way in two years time will no longer be able to see much of Silvertown, merely a barren security barrier and the sky.
Finally, a short distance from what used to be the North Woolwich terminus, another portal leads Crossrail back down below ground. Woolwich proper awaits, leaving a strip of former railway line which might one day be flats, if foundations allow. That fate has already befallen the sidings at the end of the line, courtesy of an undistinguished set of five-storey blocks called The Sidings Apartments, with 74 hutch-like spaces already under occupation. Where the modern station used to stand is an empty space, an abandoned lamppost and a sealed-off forecourt colonised by buddleia. And the old station building stands empty, as it has for many a year since the museum closed, silently decaying until somebody works out what to do with a mid-19th century listed shell.
Crossrail may have failed to rescue the far end of the North Woolwich line but, ten years on, the rest is very much reborn.
'North' London quiz
