It's official, Bow Roundabout is getting pedestrian crossings! And about time too.
TfL launched a consultation in February, which reported yesterday, and the confirmed result is that everything proposed in the consultation will happen. As such you could consider the 'consultation' to be nothing but a five month hiatus, slowing down a project they had every intention of proceeding with anyway. Or you could see this as a vital public check, and what's more they were never going to make any changes until local Cycle Superhighway upgrade work kicked off in the winter anyway.
I've reported on the plans in some detail before, so for further commentary you should re-read that post rather than me retread old ground here. Plus that post even gets a mention in TfL's consultation response, there's a link to it in Appendix E as an example of "Press release and local media coverage". But the long and the short of it is that seven new pedestrian crossings will be added, linked by a spine walkway across the centre of the roundabout, but with the unfortunate side effect that road traffic should expect to have to wait a bit longer to get through. Construction is planned to begin later this year and finish in summer 2016.
Here's a pretty, but not especially helpful, illustration to show what the scheme might look like. There'll be a 34-storey building to the right of the picture by the time the project is complete.
And here's TfL's summary of what the Bow Vision Interim scheme will achieve (along with a smidgeon of commentary)
• New signalised pedestrian crossings on Bow Road (one of these they could add today, the other is genuinely new and will make life much safer, but has the potential to disrupt traffic coming off the roundabout every time someone presses the button)
• eastbound cycle ‘early-start’ facility lengthened (this is not exciting, trust me)
• New signalised pedestrian and cycle crossings on Stratford High Street (one of these they could add today, another will slow down traffic unless it's directly synchronised to the traffic lights at the roundabout, and the other is genuinely new and will make life much safer, but has the potential to disrupt traffic coming off the roundabout every time someone presses the button)
• and improved access to the River Lea towpath (via two pedestrian/cyclist crossings, and that black tarmac zigzag in the picture above)
• Existing traffic islands on Stratford High Street merged into one large kerbed island (this creates "additional public realm", but it's underneath the flyover, so it's nowhere you'll be keen to hang out)
• eastbound contraflow lane removed (these lanes are a potential killer if you're a pedestrian, because you never think to look both ways, so it'll be good to see this one go)
• Bow Roundabout kerbline cut back to widen carriageway (sheesh, how many times? This'll be at least the fourth attempt TfL have had at shaving the edges of the roundabout, maybe the fifth)
This map might, or might not, makes things rather clearer. The flyover runs from Bow (left) to Stratford (right).
The new scheme is intended to provide a perfectly safe way of crossing the roundabout no matter which side pedestrians start from or want to get to. But what it doesn't necessarily do is to provide a direct route. For some crossings the new safe route will be fairly straight-forward, and I'd expect local residents to follow as directed. For example, when I'm walking from my house (top left) to my doctors (bottom left), it'll be a joy to have two safe and direct crossings to follow once the improvements are complete. And when I'm walking from my house (top left) to Tesco (bottom right), I'll happily switch from four unsignalled crossings (today) to four signalled crossings (next year). But east/west crossings will instead become irrationally indirect, which isn't so good, essentially because the new links form a tree rather than a loop.
For example, suppose I'm walking from my house (top left) to the River Lea towpath (top centre).
At present this takes two road crossings. The first of these (the red arrow) is ridiculously unsafe, as traffic could be swinging off the roundabout onto the A12 dual carriageway at any time, and vehicles are notoriously poor at signalling their intention in advance. But the second of these (the green arrow) is already perfectly safe as it crosses the slip road at traffic lights. TfL plan to remove both the red and green pedestrian crossings as part of the junction upgrade. Instead I'll be directed to use four new signal controlled pedestrian crossings instead (the yellow arrows), linked by walking along the orange arrows, a route which you'll see takes me a long way out of my way. Will I really want to follow the approved route every time, which'll involve pressing four buttons and waiting for the lights to change each time? Or will I be happy to take my chances via the original red/green route, where both crossings will still be technically present, but now with their dropped kerbs removed? I suspect the latter.
TfL can rightly claim that their improvements will create safe paths at every arm of the Bow Roundabout, and were I in a wheelchair I'd use (and be duly grateful for) each one. But the creation of risk-free pathways brings with it a time penalty, as desire lines are ignored in the quest for perfect safety. TfL aren't allowed to build merely better infrastructure, they have to build 100% safety-compliant infrastructure, and if that means everyone takes longer to get where they're going, so be it. TfL's owntable of data suggests that some Cycle Superhighway journeys will take one minute longer as a result of the change, and at times motorists and bus passengers may be delayed by two. They don't provide data on how much longer pedestrians will take as a result of this extra-staggered crossing, but seemingly that's not important so long as we're guaranteed safe passage to the other side.
Nevertheless, these proposals represent a significant transfer of transport superiority away from wheels and towards feet. In previous announcements TfL had made it perfectly clear that no crossings could be introduced if they affected traffic flow. The A12 is a significant trunk artery, went the argument, so they couldn't possibly add signals that might affect vehicles attempting to enter or depart. So there still won't be traffic lights on the A12 slip roads, but at certain times the seven other crossings will introduce holdups on all arms of the roundabout by creating a domino effect. Indeed in the future I'll be able to stall traffic simply by pressing a button, which might then back up onto the roundabout, which might then block the paths of other vehicles, which might then temporarily mess the whole junction up. And all this is assuming I need to wait for the green man anyway, because you know how it is when a gap in the traffic appears, you dash across, and then the lights change behind you several seconds after you've gone, and all the pointlessly delayed drivers scowl.
It might seem somewhat churlish to be whingeing about the introduction of something I've been campaigning for for the best part of a decade on this blog, namely the introduction of pedestrian crossings at the Bow Roundabout. It might also seem odd to be lambasting the downsides of a solution that significantly resembles something I recommended in 2011. But just because something's being done doesn't mean it's being done optimally, and just because new lights are going in doesn't mean we're all going to use them. Will Bow's pedestrians switch to the new nanny-level crossings, or will we continue take our chances on the existing desire lines and reach our destination significantly faster? Assuming we get to the other side at all, that is, but then I've been nipping across these slip roads since the turn of the century and none of my close shaves have killed me yet.
I find this an interesting, and more widespread dilemma, in that making public infrastructure 'better' often involves making certain aspects of it worse. But that's because there are always various transport interests to balance out, and someone has to judge the needs of one group against the drawbacks to another. Indeed solving the Bow Roundabout issue for everyone for good will take a lot more than just seven sets of traffic lights, it'll need a coordinated plan that essentially starts again from scratch.
I'm not quite sure how I'd never been to The Proms before. Indeed it's been a few decades since I was even inside the Royal Albert Hall, such are my inadequate attempts at full cultural integration. But I'd been meaning to go, and my Dad had been suggesting it for years, so when I spotted the 2015 ticket window opening up I sprang to attention.
You have to be quick. I got home from work on the designated day to find various Proms already fully booked, though thankfully not the one I'd set my eye on. Even so it had only a paltry number of tickets left, all with a Restricted View, the upside of which was that they were particularly cheap. £7.50's not bad for a top notch concert, I thought, so I stumped up and waited for my ticket to arrive in the post.
I plumped for a classical dead cert, The Planets by Holst, which I'm pretty sure I was taken to hear at the RAH when I was small. Musically it's got a bit of everything, from fierce to stirring to ethereal drift, plus I knew the suite really well so I'd not get bored. But the Prom also included a couple of pieces that would be more challenging, one a French avant garde number, the other a BBC original commission, making the overall programme more representative of the season as a whole.
The Royal Albert Hall is really big. I know this is fairly obvious, but it pays to go for a walk once round the outside before you go in. All kinds of people will be pouring in, this being the Proms, not just your usual jacketed hoorays and blonde grandmothers. The longest queue is for the five pound Arena Day Tickets, where summer blouses and yellow plimsolls are more than likely to make an appearance. Who else but the BBC could fill this hall nightly across the summer with such a broad cross section of the public?
I was heading for the very back row of the Circle, perched just below the balcony at almost vertigo-inducing heights. Way down below were the serious Prommers, standing, then the stalls, then a double ring of boxes, mostly full, and then us. They hadn't been kidding about the Restricted View. From my seat I could see the second but not the first violins, the brass rather than the woodwind and, so long as the Chinese dad in front of me leaned back, the female conductor. He didn't lean back much.
As the orchestra readied to begin the seats beside me were taken by a courting couple, he an Albert Hall regular, she seemingly a classical virgin. But when the baton was raised she suddenly realised with some horror that the entire auditorium was about to fall silent while she had a bag of crisps balanced on her lap. Her Tyrells Lightly Sea Salted then sat there temptingly but unavailable for the entire first piece, until eventually she could take no more and reached in... crinkle, crinkle, crunch. I hope he dumped her after the performance, but in truth I blame the RAH for selling the irresistibly noisy snack in the first place.
I think it's fair to say that most of the audience hadn't come for the first half selection. Up first were Pierre Boulez's Notations, a selection of five brisk compositions written intermittently over half a century, from 1945's Fantasque to 1997's Strident. It sounded more like the orchestra was having fun than playing a tune, zipping here and there in turbulent motifs, and showcasing various instruments with a flurry. More traditional in format, if not in style, was the première of Luca Francesconi's violin concerto, Duende. As with any concerto this was essentially an opportunity for the soloist to show off, here quivering around the very highest notes on the fingerboard like a demented humming bird, while the orchestra buzzed underneath. Her virtuoso performance earned considerable applause. And then ice creams and more red wine, anyone?
The Planets is Holst's masterwork, not least because not one of the seven movements hits a duff note. They're each based on astrological persona, not astronomical reality, and were composed over a two year period precisely a century ago. The suite begins with Mars and heads in towards the Sun, then returns to Jupiter and departs the solar system. As a kick-off The Bringer of War hit a relentless note, and made clear the huge advantages of listening to a live reverberating orchestra rather than a tinny laptop stream.
Jupiter was the biggest crowd pleaser, its bucolic jollity ideally suited to Last Night of the Proms sensibilities (where I believe it was indeed played in 1997). The ensemble delivered a blisteringly emotional performance, inspiring the audience to break protocol and applaud loudly at the end. But Uranus might just have been my favourite, twisting and cavorting like an outtake from the Sorcerer's Apprentice, and finally giving the organist something to do with a crashing chord right at the end.
Neptune brought the suite to an atmospheric end, the members of the orchestra gradually putting down their instruments so that the Elysian Singers could sing the final haunting notes... until interrupted by the bawling cry of a small child throughout the crucial fade-out sequence. His father eventually dashed with him for the exit, but not before the ethereal effect had been ruined for all of us in the hall and by the thousands listening live on Radio 3. Don't bring your pre-toddler to a Prom - they won't appreciate it, and neither will we.
But as the final applause lifted the roof, the seven year-old boy in the row in front of me beamed with delight. He'd been banging his little fists to Mars, and drifting off gently to Venus, and bobbing slightly from side to side during Jupiter, and had clearly enjoyed an eye-opening first night at the Proms. I hope he comes back. I'm damned glad I did.
Living Walls of Camden Of all the things you could do at the weekend, how about a walking tour of Camden's social housing? The Camden Tour Guides Association ran a two hour tour on Saturday to celebrate the borough's 50th birthday, part of a lengthy celebration that this borough is taking more seriously than most. And Camden has a housing record to be proud of, building tens of thousands of homes over the years, and embracing an astonishing diversity of architecture. Over 85% of Camden's population live in flats, we were told, which is the highest proportion in the country, so it's just as well they tend not to build nasty shoeboxes. You could tell it was going to be a good tour when one of the London Assembly members had booked in to attend, and I for one was wondering where precisely our route was going to go. There are socialhousinggems all over the borough, as this map indicates, but kicking off outside the Old Town Hall on the Euston Road meant we surely couldn't tick off very many.
The first stop was Flaxman Terrace, a very early example of social housing, indeed only the second block to have been erected by St Pancras Borough Council. That was back in 1908, in an era when a caretaker's house would automatically be included in any development. Spacewise things were rather smaller than we expect today, and the 84 flats have since been remodelled into about half that. We'd be spending most of our time across the road in Somers Town, an underrated community sandwiched between Euston and King's Cross (and under threat of partial demolition from the arrival of HS2). Take Levita House, for example. This Grade II listed building is tucked away beyond the British Library, and was constructed by the London County Council around 1930. Its architect George Topham Forrest wanted to bring something of the continent to inner London, and based this dense seven-storey block on modernist Viennese public housing. We peered in through the gated arch and tried not to disturb the locals.
The LCC was Britain's most successful deliverer of affordable homes, knocking up over 200,000 mostly-flats over its 75-year lifetime. At their peak they employed 350 architects on London-wide projects, with a completion rate that puts today's privately-focused market to shame. One of their last was on Churchway, after which (in 1965) they handed over the reins to Camden who got on with their new more modern design. And blimey, Oakshott Court. This fills one whole block at the heart of Somers Town, and looks more like a stepped Mediterranean terrace than a council house development. Two perpendicular banks of flats meet in the top corner, with apartments stacked so that every tenant has a southerly aspect, and there's even room for brightly planted gardens to be squeezed inbetween. Compared to any 21st century shiny box in the sky it looks like heaven. The site has form as social housing too, dating back to 1784 when a 15-sided block called ThePolygon was right built here. In its early years this slum was the birthplace of Frankenstein author Mary Shelley, although it's her campaigning mother Mary Wollstonecraft who's commemorated by a brown plaque, as we were shown on the tour.
Further quality council blocks were pointed out ("see that urn up there?"), although Camden's other most startling projects are much further north and we missed those. Instead the walk drifted more into "we know some interesting facts about this area and can twist them into the general theme of housing" territory, which was fine, this being a fascinating part of town, but not quite what I'd been expecting. Then to finish we wandered up Camley Street to a brand new staircase down to the canal, and followed the towpath (in parts floating to avoid building works) past the most recent model for Camden's housing. Tightly packed apartment towers are being erected on the site of a former gasworks, and the moneyed will eventually be able to live in flats inside three restored gasholder frames. The development's not going to make a dent on Camden's thirty thousand strong housing list, that's for sure.
It had been an illuminating tour, both geographically and historically, not least regarding changing attitudes towards rented accommodation. Where the state once propped up those unable to afford market rates, and built homes to be proud of, now the gap between provision and need is becoming unbridgeable. And above all it re-opened my eyes to Somers Town, which I thought I'd explored but in reality anything but. So next time you're half an hour early for a train from St Pancras or Euston, why not forego that coffee and a pastry in favour of a brief wander round the neighbouring backstreets?
And while I'm in the area, have you spotted the Ladybird book exhibition that's currently taking place at The House of Illustration? I visited (and enjoyed) when it was in Bexhill earlier in the year, and now this marvellously retro display has come to London. It'll cost you £7 to get in, whereas on the south coast it was free, but this time no expensive train ticket is required. Peter and Jane await your presence.
It's three years today since the opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympic Games.
Here's what's still not open...
• the Olympic Stadium (OK, so the Anniversary games are on, and the Rugby World Cup is on its way, but West Ham don't get in for another year)
• the surrounding 'island' (and its riverside footpaths)
• the loop road round the back of the Olympic Stadium...
• ...and the associated footpath linking to the Greenway
• two footpaths south to Stratford High Street
• a chunk of the Greenway (for which we can still blame Crossrail)
• the replacement allotments (south) near Marshgate Lane
• much of Here East (formerly iCity, formerly the Press and Broadcast Centre)
• the Canal Park (the grass'll grow eventually, surely)
• the majority of the surrounding offices and flats
• Sweetwater, East Wick, Marshgate Wharf, Pudding Mill
I'm not quite sure how I'd never been to The Proms before. Indeed it's been a few decades since I was even inside the Royal Albert Hall, such are my inadequate attempts at full cultural integration. But I'd been meaning to go, and my Dad had been suggesting it for years, so when I spotted the 2015 ticket window opening up I sprang to attention.
