Today I'm two thirds of the way through my random exploration of the capital, with just a western strip and an eastern chunk still to go. My most recent visits have all been fairly peripheral. I haven't been in as close as Zone 1 during the last two years, nor even as close as Zone 2 since last summer. Is today the day I finally hit the central tourist hotspots of Westminster or Camden. Or am I heading back to Boris's beloved outskirts, dispatched somewhere attraction-lite like Kingston or Havering?
Once I've researched my randomly-chosen borough online I'll then head off and visit some of its most interesting places (assuming it has any). As usual I hope to visit somewhere famous, somewhere historic, somewhere pretty, somewhere retail, somewhere sporty and somewhere random. I might even take lots of photographs while I'm at it, if the borough's photogenic enough. Then after I've made my grand tour I'll come back tomorrow and tell you all about it. Let's see where I'm going this time...
Random borough (12): It's time once again for me to take another random trip to one of London's 33 boroughs). One third now complete, two thirds yet to visit. As I write I have no idea which one of the 22 remaining names will be revealed when I unfold the slip of paper I'm about to pick from my "special jamjar". I could pick any of London's other boroughs - inner or outer, urban or suburban, small or large, fascinating or dull. I just know it won't be Merton, Islington, Enfield, Sutton, Lewisham, Southwark, Kensington & Chelsea, Hackney, Hillingdon, the City or Bromley because they're the eleven (dark grey) boroughs I've picked out already. My last two visits have been to London's smallest borough followed by London's largest borough, so at least today's selection can't be quite so extreme.
Once I've researched my randomly-chosen borough online then I'll head off and visit some of its most interesting places (assuming it has any). As usual I hope to visit somewhere famous, somewhere historic, somewhere pretty, somewhere retail, somewhere sporty and somewhere random. I might even takelotsofphotographs while I'm at it, if the borough's photogenic enough. Then after I've made my grand tour I'll come back tomorrow and tell you all about it. Let's see where I'm going this time...
I wondered if there was any mileage in further 'Random' blog series.
Random grid reference: TQ269722 Springfield Park Wandsworth SW17
Technically the precise spot is a block of flats just over the wall, but I was in Springfield Park just last week and blogged all about it so there's no point in going back again.
Random Haringey Park Wood Green Common N22
After generating my random number I headed straight there, just down the road from Alexandra Palace station, but it was closed. This was annoying because according to Haringey's website "Works to improve Wood Green Common were completed in June 2025", but they very much aren't. The new Multi Use Games Area and outdoor gym remain sealed off behind metal barriers while workmen tweak poles and paving, and a lot of grass people could be using for recreation is out of commission for parking white vans.
Admittedly the small children's play area is open but best not wander in there unaccompanied, also Barratt Gardens is unaffected but the wisteria on the pergola has already done its thing. Works were supposed to take 22 weeks which seems very precise, but they're very much not over yet and might not even be ready before schools go back. Bad timing.
Random London bus route 169 Claybury - Barking
The first number the generator threw up was 347 which hasn't been a London bus route for the last six months, then 446 but that hasn't run since 1996. Third time lucky I got the 169 because that actually exists, but I wasn't convinced anyone wanted to read a road trip across Redbridge whose commentary would mostly have been "and then more shops".
Random diamond geezer comment number 51857, 5th December 2011
There are now over 180,000 diamond geezer comments, which is damned impressive thanks, and to trawl back to the 51857th I had to scroll down to 5th December 2011. This was on a post about Ben Pedroche's book Do Not Alight Here in which I followed his route to disused stations round Bow, Stepney and Limehouse. Mid-afternoon one of you commented...
Shame the old Bow Station was demolished. What a magnificent building! CornishCockney 5 Dec 2011 - 4:15 p.m
...and how exciting that Cornish Cockney also left the 184817th comment only yesterday!
My random number generator picked a very high number this time, and photo 18637 turns out to be from the very start of this year when I went to Lancing to walk the road of the year. This is the roundabout at the northern end of the A2025, and excitingly it's never appeared on the blog before.
If a list exists, a random item can be identified. In this case the 71212th postbox in the database can be found in the Norfolk village of Southrepps, not far from Cromer. It's an E2R lamp box, probably the 1970s design, with a 9am collection time. It used to sit proudly outside the Post Office but that closed in January 2024 due to the resignation of the postmaster and is now a private home. I could schlepp up to Southrepps to take a photo but why bother when Google StreetView exists, other than perhaps enjoying a beer at the VernonArms afterwards.
Random London pub Little Windsor Sutton SM1
There is no official list of London's pubs but there was once courtesy of CAMRA, back in 2019, so I used that and hoped that pub number 2598 hadn't closed post-pandemic. It hadn't, but I had no idea where it was because I've never been to Greyhound Road in Sutton before. The Little Windsor looks like a decent local with a teensy front patio, formerly Fullers but they've recently withdrawn. Alas their website no longer exists but on Facebook they claim to be "a traditional cosey pub providing excellent real ales and food", plus they host occasional gigs by solo singers. I reckon Random London Pub might actually work as a feature on someone beer-friendly's blog, but I would very much run out of stuff to say after admiring the green wainscotting and noting the availability of Mini Cheddars.
I was hoping to delve back into my early years but instead we go back just three years to a rare Bank Holiday Thursday. It was the first day of the Queen's Platinum Jubilee, and after a breakfast of porridge and a nice walk round Hampstead Heath I headed to the Olympic Park to watch the flypast. Wow!
I headed home to eat bacon sandwiches while fast-forwarding through Trooping The Colour, then stuck a turkey joint in the oven. Charles and Camilla appeared on EastEnders, almost acting properly, and my most successful tweet of all time passed three quarters of a million views, which would never happen nowadays.
I went multiply random here. First I picked a random year during the lifespan of the UK Singles chart (1982), then a random month (June), then a random week and got the Top 40 announced by Paul Burnett on 8th June 1982. It was the day Adam Ant toppled Madness from the chart summit if you remember. Finally I picked a random position in that Top 40 chart and got number 5 which was Tight Fit's follow up to The Lion Sleeps Tonight, the much superior Fantasy Island. A bit cheesy perhaps, but you can see where Steps got a lot of their ideas from. Retro Charts Radio is the perfect place to hear random Top 40 hits these days.
Random London station Bexley (zone 6)
By the time I'd been to Wood Green there wasn't time to go to Bexley, plus Bexley's a dull station in an interesting place so I'd have spent more time writing about the village instead. You can always read the Wikipedia page where you'll discover the station car park has 259 spaces, or perhaps wait for someone to add their own thrilling anecdote to the comments.
n.b. I reserve the right to come back and do Random Station: Bexley at some point in the future, should it ever come up again.
Random grid reference: TQ414890
North Circular Redbridge IG4
This is mid-dual-carriageway on the A406 just north of the Redbridge roundabout, so you can only really get to it with a car. There is a footpath alongside by the river Roding, and if only it had been TQ415890 that'd have been Roding Well Pumping Station, but TQ414890 is alas off-limits Ballardian beltway. Some ideas only work once, and the magic rarely works a second or even third time, sorry.
Wandsworth is in southwest London, close enough in parts to feel distinctly metropolitan, far enough in others to be proper suburbia. Much of its Thames-side fringe has recently been overtaken by a string of vulgar apartment blocks, whereas the interior is generally of solid Victorian stock. Wandsworth's also renowned for its extremely low council tax, usually amongst the very lowest in the country, which is one reason why the borough museum closed a few years back. Frugality might also explain why the council's website was bugger-all help in planning my whistlestop tour around the borough yesterday. But I found plenty of interest all the same.
Somewhere famous: Battersea/Nine Elms Several of the things for which Battersea is famous aren't necessarily in Battersea proper. They're in Nine Elms, a dreary slice of industrial riverside named after a line of trees (what else?). To investigate I took a walk along sun-baked Nine Elms Lane, starting at the edge of the borough just beyond Vauxhall. Some of the places I passed are famous, some could have been, and one will be. And hurrah, there were even kittens.
New Covent Garden Flower Market: To enable Covent Garden to become a central London tourist trap, all the flowersellers had to move out. And its to Nine Elms that they fled, to a new 1970s market building blessed with chilled air conditioning and an isometric roof. The site had previously been a locomotive works, but go back even further and it was almost one of the most important stations in London. In 1838 the services of the London & Southampton Railway terminated here, and passengers had to continue into the centre of town by boat or road. Damned inconvenient, so the company extended their tracks to a new inner terminus and shut Nine Elms down. You've probably heard of Waterloo station, it's quite busy these days.
The US Embassy: Ah, this hasn't arrived yet. But Uncle Sam's new home is at the planning stage already, and everyone should eventually be moving out of Grosvenor Square to this unassuming Wandsworth location. It's a seemingly odd choice. At the moment the chosen spot is part of a relatively inaccessible industrial estate that's seen far better days. There are several anonymous warehouses, and a Bentley dealership, and an imposing 80s office block now boarded up with weeds growing across an extensive courtyard. My photo shows Ponton Road, which is to be diverted so that the new embassy building can be built slap bang across its former carriageway. Current plans feature "consular pavilions", "earth sculptures" and "public art opportunities", but expect an expensive hi-tech fortress within which visas will be denied and potential immigrants will be belitted. Happy future Independence Day.
Battersea Power Station: A 1930s coal-fired shouldn't gladden the heart but, even in its derelict state, this towering workhorse still has a special place in Londoners' hearts. It must be the chimneys, visible for miles around, and still mighty impressive from almost-up-close. Sir Giles Gilbert Scott's templeof power generated mega-megawatts for London before the off switch was finally flicked in 1983. Proposals for the building's rebirth have been many - a theme park, offices, a shopping mall - but planning dissent and failed funding have left the building roofless and decaying. The latest residential plan even selfishly suggests a short spur off the Northern line to serve tenants and shoppers, and bugger anyone living further west in Wandsworth or Battersea proper. Most worrying is the idea that the chimneys are in a precarious state and may have to be replaced, because I'd have no faith that once demolished they'd ever be rebuilt. Instead I cherish my memories of a tour of the interior in 2006 for a Chinese art exhibition, and I fear I may never get the opportunity again.
Battersea Dogs Home: And Cats, these days, before anyone adds a comment to correct me. The nation's favourite pet dispensary moved to Battersea in 1871, at which time it was known as The Temporary Home for Lost and Starving Dogs. Its operations have expanded somewhat since, and the Battersea site now includes kennels for nearly 300 dogs and even a suite of "Cat Socialising Rooms". The current building resembles a cross between a small prison and a Travelodge, but is (one suspects) slightly more comfortable inside. Passers-by along Battersea Park Road are still met by the unmistakable sound of hopeful barking attempting to tempt them inside. Late afternoon I watched as a smiling family emerged into the sunlight with a new addition, the lady of the house clutching a fragile puppy in her arms. Once across the road and into the car, a new home beckoned. Buster, Pippin and Beetroot still await their happy ending.
Battersea Park: And finally, one of London's very finest parks. It's blessed by a riverside location, and it's huge, and yesterday it was the perfect spot for thousands of Wandsworthians to strip down and toast their flesh. Unlike many other London parks, it's hard to get bored here. Take a look inside the Pump House Art Gallery, go for a pedal around the boating lake, or maybe potter around the children's zoo. My choices included watching the sun glinting on the 25-year-old PeacePagoda, going for a wander along the Tea Terrace, and enjoying a bit of cooling spray around the central fountains. Back in 1951 these synchronised gushers were a centrepiece of the park's contribution to the Festival of Britain, advertised as the "Festival Gardens" and boasting a large number of whimsical attractions. Most were swiftly withdrawn afterwards, but the Battersea funfair survived into the 1970s until doomed by a fatal Big Dipper accident. Traces of past glories remain, but these days the park's simpler pleasures are perfectly attractive.
Somewhere infamous: Wandsworth Prison The second biggest prison in the UK (after Liverpool, if you must know) is tucked away inside a pocket of suburbia to the southeast of Wandsworth town centre. The prison opened in 1851 as The Surrey House of Correction, arranged radiallly with six cellblock wings that still house prisoners to this day. In total 135 inmates have experienced irreversible 'correction' at Wandsworth, most of these on the gallows located in "The Cold Meat Shed". Many renowned miscreants have spent time within the prison's walls, including Oscar Wilde, Charles Bronson and Pete Docherty, although most inmates are only here before being packed off to somewhere else. One convict who refused to hang around was train robber Ronnie Biggs, who escaped from the exercise yard in an audacious breakout in 1965 and rapidly swapped South London for South America.
From the front in Heathfield Road the prison looks more like a Victorian brick castle, complete with turrets and central portcullis. The facade is brightened up by an unfeasibly high number of blooming flowers in black boxes, no doubt planted (but not watered) by the prisoners inside. Even the security cameras are bedecked by colourful hanging baskets, as if to soften up the reality of what goes on inside. If you're visiting a prisoner, entrance is up a small staircase to the left, whereas staff enter via a separate set of steps to the right of the cycle racks. There's also a (very) small museum, officially opened last year inside what looks like an old shed up the road. Entrance is by appointment only, so I wasn't able to look inside, but you might be more tenacious. Just be careful where you leave your car - a sign in the staff car park warns "no parking against wall after 5:30pm". They'll try anything to get out of Wandsworth, some people. by train: Wandsworth Common, Earlsfield by bus: 77, 219
Somewhere historic: The Putney Debates In 1647, during a lull in the English Civil War, the New Model Army bedded down in Putney for a few months. Amongst other things their thoughts turned to representative democracy, like you do, and an unlikely series of debates took place. Should every soldier, every land owner or even every free citizen, have the right to vote? Did the King have a divine right, or should the people demand equality under the law? Pretty basic stuff today, but ideas unrehearsed at the time. A manifesto was put forward entitled The Case of the Armie Truly Stated, and the voice of the common man was put forward by a disparate pressure group called the Levellers.
Day 1 of the debates kicked off in St Mary's Church on the banks of the Thames. Arguments were heard for both sides under the chairmanship of Oliver Cromwell, and continued for a fortnight. In the end nothing really changed - a resurgence of the Civil War saw to that. But the Putney Debates have come to represent an early outbreak of modern constitutional thinking because of one lucky coincidence - their transcripts survived. The paperwork was uncovered in Worcester College Library in the 1890s, and the stenographer's shorthand eventually deciphered allowing historians to look back at the thoughts and arguments of an underclass whose thoughts were not normally heard. A new exhibition in St Mary's continues to tell their story today.
I made the mistake of attempting to enter the church via the west door. Wrong, this is a church you enter via the café. They're rightly proud of their newextension at St Mary's, paid for out of a bequest by two dear old parishioners called Olive and Nora, enabling the church to reach out into the community via the medium of frothy caffeine. Past the tables and comfy sofas, past the orders of service and parish notices, and into the main body of the church itself. OK, so this is no normal ancient church. It was badly damaged by an arson attack in 1973 and subsequently remodelled, so the interior feels more like a theatre in the round than a place of worship. There's a particularly fine view from the new gallery down onto the central dais, from which the rector holds forth every Sunday. You may have heard Giles on Thought For The Day, he's a forthright cheery progressive, and he leaves St Mary's this month to take up a new post at St Paul's Cathedral.
The Putney Debates exhibition is crammed into a tiny alcove close to the entrance. There are several fact-packed display boards to read, plus an hour's worth of video to watch. Don't worry, there's also a seat, because this could take some time. I pressed button 1 to hear more about Putney's constitutional legacy from various luminaries including Tony Benn, Lady Antonia Fraser and our Giles. I wasn't quite convinced that the debates lay the foundations for modern civil liberties, but as an early symbol of emerging democracy they remain unmatched. A quotation from a Roundhead army captain has been inscribed in gold on the south wall where you might expect to find a line from scripture. "I think that the poorest he that is in England hath a life to live, as the greatest he". How very apposite. And plenty to ponder over a caramel milkshake in the café on the way out. by tube: Putney Bridge
Somewhere pretty: The Alton Estate, Roehampton When the London County Council sought to rehouse ten thousand inner London slum dwellers in the late 1950s, their eyes alighted on what was then the westernmost tip of the capital. Beyond Roehampton Lane, in the parkland grounds of several former Georgian mansions, they plotted the construction of a vast council estate to the very latest architectural specifications.The Alton Estate was designed in two contrasting halves. Alton East was softly Modernist with a mixture of low- and high-rise housing, and nothing particularly extraordinary. But Alton West was built to a more Brutalist functional agenda, reflecting Le Corbusier's recent success in Marseille with l'Unitéd'Habitation. The first Alton residents loved it.
Alton West is spread across the banks of a wooded hollow beyond the edge of Richmond Park. Into this landscape were dropped zonal clusters of identikit habitation - cuboid apartment blocks, flat-roofed terraced maisonettes, even meandering rows of prefab bungalows. Each provides a distinct neighbourhood identity within the wider community, with a more rural feel the further west along Danebury Avenue you go.
Rising above them all, along the brow of the hill, are five imposing eleven-storey slab-blocks. They're aligned in parallel, staggered diagonally, each perched up on matchstalk pillars to provide residents with a grandstand view. Grade II* listed, obviously, although I'd be surprised if anyone from English Heritage would choose to live here.
The estate's got its problems. Stairwells and corridors have seen better days. The rolling grassland setting is ideal for a summer picnic (so long as you check carefully for dogmess before you sit down), but far less attractive on a dark winter's evening. The far end of Danebury Avenue is fairly remote, and residents wait expectantly at the central bus stop for carriage up to civilisation and beyond. The library, added as an afterthought in 1961, had to be squeezed in beneath an austere apartment block. And Wandsworth planners recently decided that the shopping parade and eastern flats need to be replaced by something more modern, more regenerative, less 'council'. Maybe a mistake. Alton will never be Arcadia, but this pioneering architectural experiment has laid down strong communal foundations. by bus: 170, 430 on film: Fahrenheit 451
Somewhere retail: The London Sewing Machine Museum When I mentioned the London Sewing Machine Museum in passing last week, little did I imagine I'd be walking through its hallowed portal over the weekend. The museum's only open for three hours a month, so the chances of ever finding myself in the vicinity were quite frankly minimal. But when eleven-to-one shot Wandsworth emerged from my random jamjar on the first Saturday of the month, I decided I had to visit. It took two attempts to get inside because the website doesn't reveal any precise opening times (two til five, as it turned out). But I'm so glad I made the effort, because the experience was unforgettable.
To Tooting Bec station, then a brief stroll north along the Balham High Road. There are two large sewing-machine related buildings to pick from (I know, what are the chances?) but ignore the Sewing and Craft Superstore at number 300. You want the premises of the Wimbledon Sewing Machine Company Limited at 312, a very ordinary-looking two-storey block industrial block [photo]. The ground floor houses the workshop, still very much a going concern, with scores of tabletop machines laid out amid shelves piled high with thread and spare parts [photo]. The working week ends Saturday lunchtime, and once a month manager Ray hangs around afterwards to welcome visitors to his upstairs collection. It's a whopper.
Even in the downstairs lobby there's a strong hint that somebody around here is obsessed with sewing machines. A variety of old machines and assorted ephemera litter the floor, balcony and stairwell, each lovingly presented. An antique industrial machine spooled-up and ready to sew, a metal advertising panel for the French branch of Singer, even a 1981 receipt for spaceprobe insulation. Climb higher, because you ain't seen nothing yet.
On the first floor I entered a room filled with more sewing machines than I'd ever seen in my life [photo]. Shelf after shelf, with more laid out on tables across the floor, every space filled, every machine dutifully labelled. This room's home to the more workaday machines, mostly black, once commonplace in homes and factories across the country. Before all our clothes arrived via imported sweatshops, Britons were clothed only thanks to these machines and the skill of their operators. I looked in vain for the precise model my Mum used to own, although the Silko reels and coffin-top carrying cases seemed eminently familiar. A brief video in the far corner told the story of the museum, information which was also detailed in a 13-page stapled handout freely available to take away.
One of the curators wandered over for a chat - friendly but intense - and his devotion to the cause shone through. Much of the collection has been sourced from closed-down businesses and household clearouts, and it was clear that the loss of even a single chucked-away machine hurt him deeply. He directed me through to the second room at the rear (ohmigod, a second room) where the antique machines were housed (blimey, hundreds more). Glass cases this time, in front of plush curtained walls to emphasise the rarity of their contents. Many of these were delicate machines for delicate Victorian ladies, the highlight being one especially ornate Wheeler & Wilson device given to Queen Victoria's eldest daughter as a wedding present [photo]. Members of the International Sewing Machine Collectors' Society would be so overwhelmed they'd need several visits to take everything on board.
The collection has breadth and diversity - it's not all sewing machines. Threads and needles and pattern books, obviously, plus a delightful wind-up marionette merrily sewing away beneath a glass belljar. One corner has been given over to recreating Ray's dad's sewing machine shop along the Merton Road, a poignant display of labelled merchandise from an era I can almost remember myself [photo]. There are antique clocks too, plus a proper barrel organ that plays music hall tunes which the curator willingly demonstrated to the watching crowds. Not terribly large crowds, admittedly, but the Australian trio and myself were duly appreciative.
I learnt several things during my hour in the museum. Firstly not to take my clothes for granted - somebody somewhere sweated to put all those seams in my trousers, and my great-grandparents would have thought nothing of doing it themselves. Secondly that anything can be made interesting if presented with sufficient love and flair - even a floorful of domestic appliances. Thirdly that the museum's owners are enormously generous of their time and resources - admission is free, but owner Ray still popped in with a tray of chilled wine glasses mid-way through the afternoon. And finally that you really ought to visit, especially if handicrafts, technology or the quirkier side of London float your boat. 2pm, Saturday 1st August - start forming the queue now. by tube: Tooting Bec by bus: 155, 249, 355
Somewhere sporty: Tooting Bec Lido Perfect day for it. A dip in Britain's largest freshwater swimming pool, all one million gallons of it, was packing them in on Saturday at the eastern end of Tooting Bec Common. Opened as the Tooting Bathing Lake in 1906, this outdoor pool evolved into a lido in the Thirties and is a notable survivor of Wandsworth council's relentless cutbacks. The public are allowed in between May and September, while the South London Swimming Club have exclusive access during the often-freezing winter months. One 100 yard-longswimming pool, one much smaller paddling pool, a café and a bit of grass for sunbathing on - these are simple pleasures. Not that I was getting inside for a look. The lido's deliberately screened behind an earth bank and various rows of trees, so that snooping is pretty much impossible. Turnstiles bar the way at the entrance, as well as a sulky guard, and on Saturday morning additional security was being called in to cope with the burgeoning crowds. Alas I hadn't brought a towel or my trunks (do swimmers still wear trunks or is everything baggy Speedos these days, I wouldn't know), so getting inside would have been pointless. All I could see through the gap was the bright blue shallow end and a gushing weddingcakefountain. A walk around the perimeter proved difficult, not least because the lido was built right up close to the East Croydon mainline. But I did eventually catch sight of a few of the Lido's trademark primary-colouredchanging booths through the trees, across the railway. Sorry, I wasn't attempting too look like a pervy stalker lurking in the undergrowth. But why should swimmers have all the fun? by train: Streatham by bus: 249, 319
Random borough (31): Hammersmith & Fulham(part 2½) Sorry, this one's a cheat. The Earl's Court Exhibition Centre may be partly in Hammersmith & Fulham, but the tube station's a few hundred yards away in Kensington & Chelsea. Never mind, just this once, because TODAY IS THE 100th ANNIVERSARY OF ESCALATORS ON THE LONDON UNDERGROUND. Please stand on the right, and walk on the left.
Somewhere cheating: Earl's Court station's escalators The first escalators on the London Underground were installed at Earl's Court station in 1911. They were tested in September, but first rolled for public use on Wednesday 4th October. Previously, if you wanted to change between the District and Piccadilly lines, you had to use the stairs or take the lift. But this important interchange had been specially selected for the first railway-based appearance of the motorised people-mover we all take for granted today. There had been a pioneering attempt at a "double spiralcontinuous moving track" escalator at Holloway Road five years earlier, but that prototype never really got off the ground. Diagonally speaking, Earl's Court was where it all began, starting 100 years ago today.
There were two wooden escalators, in parallel, constructed by the Otis Elevator Company of New York. They climbed at an angle of 26½°, raising passengers a total of 38 feet from the lower Piccadilly to just below the District. A row of decorative uplighters ran up the centre between the two, and a big sign had to be erected at the bottom warning riders not to sit on the handrails. When stopped there were 57 steps to climb; when running the ascent took 25 seconds. The steps were oak, because oak was fireproof, while the balustrades were a rather lovely slice of teak. And these weren't quite the escalators we know now, with safety combs at the end, but instead had a 'shunt' landing at the top which forced passengers to step off sideways. No, I can't quite picture that either, I'm merely duplicating the descriptive text from somewhere else.
Had you been at Earl's Court 100 years ago you'd probably have been very nervous of the new mechanical apparatus. Underground managers recognised this, and hired one of the most famous pub quiz answers in tube history. His name was Bumper Harris, a one-legged railway employee, and he was paid to ride the escalators up and down all day to show passengers how safe they were. Inspired marketing, you might think. Except that some people saw a man with an artificial limb and worried that he might have been horribly injured by the escalator mechanism itself, so shied off and took the lift instead. Not to worry, Earl's Court's escalators were a big hit with most other passengers - indeed some visited the station purely for the opportunity to change lines in a manner that had never been possible before.
These were "Type A" escalators, of which 22 were eventually installed across the network (mostly on the Bakerloo line). All ran at 26½°, unlike subsequent escalator shafts which ran at 30° to get passengers to the surface fractionally faster. The last Otis Type A continued in use on the Central line at Liverpool Street until 1953 when it was finally replaced. Meanwhile the terminating "comb", which stops your feet being swished into the mechanism, had first arrived in 1924 (at Clapham Common, if you must know). Cleated wooden escalators survived until the King's Cross disaster of 1987, and now there's only one, at Greenford (one of two stations on the London Underground where escalators take passengers up from street level to the platform) (the other, as of last year, being Stratford) (which also reputedly has the tube's shortest escalators, a mere 4m in height). But I digress. If deep-level escalator trivia appeals, then Clive's twopages should satisfy. The tube's five longest escalators: Angel (27.4m), Leicester Square (24.6m), Holborn (23.4m), Green Park (22.7m), London Bridge (21.9m)
It is of course the done thing to celebrate 100th anniversaries early, so I've already been to Earl's Court for my celebratory ride. Two things struck me as nigh identical to 1911. One was theshaftitself - a bit narrow perhaps, but still rising at 26½°. And the other was Bumper Harris. OK, not exactly the great man himself, but it seems TfL still employ staff to ensure that the Earl's Court escalator is safe. One on duty at the bottom, another at the top, in case rush hour passenger numbers between District and Piccadilly get too great and throughflow has to be restricted. But the Otis Type A is long gone, after a century that's seen escalator usage climb from the unique to the commonplace.
My heart leapt a little when I saw TfL had issued a press release yesterday about escalators. Even better, about safety on escalators, with the news that specially-trained Guide Dogs will now be allowed to ride London's escalators without being carried. Surely they've announced this with the October 4th anniversary in mind, I thought, because cute dogs and one-legged historical characters are a PR match made in heaven. Not so. The copy mentions "disabled people" and "antiquated byelaws" but nothing of Bumper Harris or the Earl's Court centenary. Instead the press release is dated 3rd October and the new regulations come into effect on 5th October, with the actual 100th birthday falling limply inbetween. Positive and forward-looking, to be sure, but a wholly missed opportunity to celebrate the tube's pioneering heritage. Something to muse on this morning, a century on, as you ascend gracefully from the bowels to the surface.
Somewhere random: Jubilee Greenway (section 1) To get a flavour of western Westminster, I took a stroll along London's newest Strategic Walking Route. The first part, that is, not the entire 60km, starting at Buckingham Palace and pausing at Little Venice. I had to printout instructions before I went, because the Jubilee Greenway's virtually invisible on the ground. But I got to enjoy a bit of royalty, a lot of park, some Georgian back-terraces, several hotels and a stretch of canal. I even walked some streets I've never walked before. Here are some highlights (plus a major highlight)...
» Buckingham Palace: It always amuses me that Londoners don't give the Queen's place a second look, but tourists can't seem to drag themselves away. Late each morning, thronging behind the barriers, peering through the bars, trying to catch a glimpse of a few furry soldiers. They wait, and they wait some more, then snap snap flash as the marchpast fleets by. I left them to it. » Hyde Park Corner: I popped into the delightfully amateur information booth at the edge of the park for some information. They didn't have it, but instead a lady in there thrust her mobile phone at me and asked if I could dial 999. Nothing serious, nothing life-threatening, it was just that she didn't understand how to dial a number that wasn't already pre-programmed into her mobile's memory. It took me a minute. And then I left her to it. I wonder whether she got the Royal Parks police or the proper lot. » Hyde Park: Reclining on grass, browning flesh, rows of unclaimed deckchairs, the vibrant summer colours of the formal gardens, kids on scooters, ducks in the shade, toes dipped in the Diana fountain, swans poking their necks under pondweed, ice cream anyone? [Albert memorials photo] » Serpentine Gallery: This year's temporary pavilion was in the middle of being erected over the weekend. It's incredibly red. And then I ventured inside the main gallery to see the Wolfgang Tillmans exhibition. Interesting enough, but I was out again within ten minutes. » Bayswater: A lot of Westminster is residential, and this is one of the better-off quarters. Big houses, lots of flats, and a definite Middle-Eastern flavour too. Plus a big secret...
Somewhere especially random: 23-24 Leinster Gardens This can't come as news to any of you, it's probably the most famous bit of obscure tube trivia around. But there are two houses in a Bayswater sidestreet which aren't really houses at all, and all to keep the neighbours happy. When the Metropolitan railway was built in the 1860s, via the cut and cover method, several buildings along the route had to be demolished. Most were replaced but a few stretches of open tunnel were needed so that the engines could vent their steam at selected spots. One such gap was here on the line between Bayswater and Paddington, although residents of leafy Leinster Gardens weren't best pleased at a gap being knocked in their elegant façade. So some five-feet-thick false frontage was constructed, almost perfectly matching the rest of the street, and two fake addresses took their place between numbers 22 and 25. [photo]
Even though I knew what I was looking for, I still walked straight past and had to double back to double check. Oh they're good, apart from a few blatant clues that all here is not what it seems [photo]. The windows don't open, they're painted grey, leaving a lifeless impression across several panes on five storeys. And the front doors, there's no way to make those open, neither are there any letterboxes either because nobody lives inside. I was particularly fooled because one of the dummy houses had scaffolding outside, and there were workmen lifting up obviously genuine construction materials to a flat on an upper floor. Closer inspection revealed that the building works were nextdoor, and the neighbours had been sensible enough to erect their scaffolding in front of a house whose residents couldn't complain.
But for the the ultimate proof there's nothing here, you have to head for the street round the back. To Porchester Terrace, where Victorian residents weren't quite so forceful in their demands. Here the railway thunders undisguised beneath a low-ish brick wall, and the fake facade of Leinster Gardens is clearlyseen. Six girders keep the neighbouring houses apart, and Circle line passengers pass safely between the two. They've been Transforming the Tube for nearly 150 years now, and residents of W2 are evidently well pleased.
» Paddington: For a supposedly tourist-friendly walking route, the Jubilee Greenway doesn't take the most gorgeous way through town. But I guess it's got to get from the park to the canal somehow, and round the ugly edge of the station will have to do. » Little Venice: Ah that's better. This waterway junction retains a lot of period charm, and there's a nice floating cafe if the urge to nibble strikes. From here the Jubilee Greenway follows the Regent's Canal towpath for the next seven miles, which I presume will save the organisers money by reusing existing resources. But I broke off at Lisson Grove for...
Somewhere sporty: Lord's Blimey, that's both of London's major cricket grounds covered on this blog in under a week, who'd have thought? This one's older, even taking into consideration it's actually the third Lord's Cricket Ground over the years. The first lies under council housing on the Lisson Grove estate, and the second had to shift when the Regent's Canal ploughed through in the early 19th century. The Marylebone Cricket Club played their first match on their latest ground in 1814 (beating Hertfordshire by an innings and 27 runs), and the first Test match came along 80 years later. Lord's may only busy for a few days a year, and the owners could surely make a huge amount more money if they sold the land for building, but still the MCC rolls on.
I arrived on a busy day. England v Australia, fifth and final one day match, and the ground packed out by keen cricketeers. Those unable to get inside appeared to have taken up residence at the Lord's Tavern, a not-very-old pub on the southern perimeter, and were watching the action from a few yards away on a big TV. From inside the ground came a sudden brief cheer, loud and sharp in a way that a football yell isn't. This turned out (I discovered later) to be the local crowd's reaction to "Smith c Anderson b Broad 15". A similar cheer, slightly noisier, greeted "Hussey c Anderson b Broad 79" a couple of minutes later. And then it was lunch, or whatever the end of an innings is called in a fixed over game, and the grandstands rapidly emptied of people. They streamed down the steps and around the perimeter passageway, heading to whatever bar or restaurant or urinal most took their fancy. A few passed out of the ground through the Grace Gate to grab a beer or food elsewhere, although it was hard to be sure precisely whereabouts nearby they might be going [photo]. Panama hats appeared to be very popular, especially amongst gentlemen of a certain age, and frequently coupled with a blazer for good measure. But the crowd was relatively mixed, if clearly skewed towards the middle and upper classes. When they finally got back to their seats it was to watch England lose by 42 runs, but to win the series. I'm sure the final cheer was both heartfelt and polite. by tube: St John's Wood
In recent years, TfL have made sterling efforts to encourage visitors to London onto the tube, the river, hire bikes and (especially) the cablecar. But only rarely have they gone out of their way to suggest that tourists take the bus, leaving the market clear for the high-priced open top sightseeing brigade. So you may be interested to hear of a new initiative on the TfL website, under the Experience London umbrella, introducing a series of 'bus leisure routes' for tourists.
These aren't special extra buses, there'd be no money for that. Instead these are five existing routes, rebranded 'bus leisure routes', each backed up by a downloadable pdf telling tourists how to ride. Take your pick.
Bus leisure route 9, for example, starts at Somerset House and heads to Holland Park, ticking off three palaces and six museums along the way. Bus leisure route 17 whisks you from King's Cross to London Bridge via four historic hostelries. Bus leisure route 22 covers Fulham Palace to Piccadilly, featuring the King's Road and Royal Academy. Bus leisure route 139 skips from Waterloo to Abbey Road via Hamleys, Selfridges and Lord's Cricket Ground. But I picked at random, which is why I'm now going to tell you of my experiences on bus leisure route 35, from Brixton Market to Columbia Road.
Bus leisure route 35: London's Markets
Brixton Market Bus stop T: Brixton Station
We're off to a cracking start. Brixton Market is just the kind of non-central gem a visitor to London could easily miss. The online blurb confirms that the local speciality is African and Caribbean produce, and contains a hint that change is afoot, noting that Granville Arcade has recently rebranded as ‘Brixton Village’. Faultless so far.
Borough Market Bus stop G: Union Street
Bus stop M: London Bridge
Next stop Borough Market. But what the linear map completely fails to mention is quite how far this is from Brixton on a number 35 bus. The 133 does the journey more directly, and gets there faster. Most Londoners would surely take the tube instead. But this is bus leisure route 35, so we're taking the 35, even if that means crawling via Camberwell for 40 minutes. If you're a temporary visitor to London, I'm unconvinced that sitting pointlessly on a busy double decker is the optimal use of your time. I can't say I enjoyed the experience. Bus leisure route 35 does pass two well known markets along the way, namely East Street Market in Walworth (birthplace of Charlie Chaplin) and the Elephant & Castle shopping centre (while stocks last), but I guess they're not sufficiently iconic to get a mention. And even when you do finally reach Borough Market, it turns out that one of the suggested bus stops (Union Street) is a bit of a hike, whereas the other (London Bridge) is almost outside. After an unproductive four mile journey, thank goodness the food offering is tip top.
Leadenhall Market Bus stop M: Fenchurch Street
Bus Stops L/N: Threadneedle Street
Here's a very different kind of market, more a collection of upmarket shops, but under a fabulously decorated roof, and of course it's been in Harry Potter. Leadenhall Market is easily reached by bus leisure route 35, three stops across the Thames, and the onboard display even announces the correct stop as 'Fenchurch Street for Leadenhall Market'. There's just one catch at present, which is that long-term roadworks are forcing a diversion via Bank so the 35 no longer stops outside. Will Old Broad Street do? It's not clear, but expect a walk.
Lloyd's of London Bus stop M: Fenchurch Street
Bus Stops L/N: Threadneedle Street
After a four mile hiatus earlier in the route, markets three and four turn out to be in the same place. The trail map's good, because it suggests you should walk from one to the other rather than take the bus, estimated walking time 2 minutes. But the linear map's misleading, because it shows the two attractions at different stops, rather than the same one. Also, see how creatively our trail curators are interpreting 'market' here, Lloyd's being a building with a distinctly financial flavour. It is an amazing architectural confection, but there's not really very much to do here apart from briefly look at it.
Spitalfields Market Bus Stop L: Liverpool Street Station
Bus stop H Primrose Street
Again the map offers two bus stops to get off at, but the second one is closer. The first stop is actually announced as 'Liverpool Street Station for Petticoat Lane Market', but alas Petticoat Lane's Sunday revels haven't been deemed worthy of inclusion. Thankfully Spitalfields is another excellent London market, or at least one an international visitor would consider as such, with its focus on designer goods rather than cheap kitchen scourers. Bus leisure route 35 has again hit the spot.
Brick Lane Bus stop H: Primrose Street
But here the trail loses it somewhat. Brick Lane is only five minutes walk from the far side of Spitalfields Market, as the text on the map carefully points out. But bus leisure route 35 goes nowhere near Brick Lane - the 67 and 205 go closer, and the 8 would be a better bet. This is the point on the trail where wishful thinking disconnects with reality, because bus routes don't magically link specific categories of tourist attraction. It's all got a bit contrived... and then it gets contriveder.
Columbia Road Flower Market Bus Stop X: Shoreditch Town Hall
Shoreditch Town Hall is the stop where the bus terminates, so you have to alight here and walk for 10 minutes to reach Columbia Road. The alternative is to carry on walking from Brick Lane, which is 15 minutes, depending on which end of Brick Lane you start. Visitors would have been better off catching the 26 or 48 from Liverpool Street, but the map isn't allowed to tell you that because it has to maintain the bus leisure route 35 mystique. What the text does correctly warn is that Columbia Road Flower Market only operates on Sundays, as does Brick Lane Market... except Sunday's the only day Borough Market isn't open, so it turns out there isn't a day of the week you can tick off the whole list in one go.
I did not enjoy my journey on bus leisure route 35. One outlier in Brixton and everything else on the eastern border of the City does not make for a happy ride. If I'd taken you on bus leisure route 22 instead, I'd have been moaning about how the last seven places all occur after the point marked "Get off the bus here and walk to the remaining locations". If I'd taken you on bus leisure route 9, I'd have been more positive, but less happy that the bus stopped at the wrong end of Exhibition Road for all the museums. If I'd taken you on bus leisure route 17, I'd have been raving about the pubs, but pointing out that the listed "Heritage" felt a bit random. And if I'd taken you on bus leisure route 139, I'd have groaned at how lowest common denominator touristy it all was, but actually I suspect that means it's the most successful of the lot.
It's great to see buses getting a bit of promotional love from TfL for a change. But the contrived nature of these bus leisure route journeys leads me to suspect that they could end up wasting tourists' time as much as opening their eyes to some proper treats. I'm also disappointed that the quintet doesn't include TfL's most obvious slamdunk tourist bus, the heritage Routemaster service which shuttles between Trafalgar Square and Tower Hill, passing St Paul's Cathedral along the way. Bus leisure route 15 should be getting far more attention from TfL than it currently affords, and I eagerly await its appearance in this peculiar portfolio.
This was going to be my post on 9th September, the day after this blog's 20th anniversary, but the Queen put paid to that. Better late than never.
20 years of blogging takes a lot of filling. Since 2002 I've published 9496 different posts, which is at least one a day for over 1000 weeks (bar a few Christmas breaks in the early days). That's acres of screenspace to pack with maybe six million words, several thousand photos and a ridiculously high number of weblinks. It's fortunate I live in London which is possibly the world's most interesting city, but filling the blog has required an eclectic spread of content, indeed a non-stop torrent of inspiration because an empty template doesn't fill itself.
Here then are 20 of my biggest content-fillers over the last 20 years, i.e. themed series that went on for ages or came back time after time, presented as a clickable index. Maybe bookmark it for a future rainy day.
1) Open House(2002-2022)
London's finest architectural showcase has appeared on this blog every September since 2002 because it's the ideal opportunity to look at, and more importantly inside, hundreds of fascinating buildings. I usually get several posts out of it - the total must be approaching 100 by now - although I've been less enamoured with it of late. The absence of a detailed printed guide and a revamped website with a search facility resembling a brantub has made it much harder to spot this year's bighitters and one-offs, not to mention trickier to knock up an itinerary, plus I've been to a lot of the good ones already and blimey they were great.
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2) Single Life(2002-2019)
This was my first 'hit', a paean to the pros and cons of being coupled up. I wrote it three years after jettisoning from a long-term relationship, and came back and posted a slightly longer version (with added misbehaviour) every year thereafter. I paused after 10 years, having healed a bit, and I post it a lot less often these days. But unless one of you finally gets it on with me in the near future expect to read it again in 2024 for my (sob) 25th anniversary.
3) Quizzes and puzzles(2003-2022)
A recurring theme on this blog is that I like to throw in a quiz or a puzzle every now and then, usually when you're least expecting it. I enjoy how my readership come together to generate a full solution, one guess at a time, sometimes in minutes and occasionally over several hours. There are far too many of these one-off posts to catalogue here, but you can always track them down by going to my annual index post (see sidebar →) where I list all those from each year.
4) The Count(2003-2022)
This was just me countingthings, nothing interesting, although by describing the final tally as 'The Mystery Count' I unintentionally unleashed a beast which continues to bemuse and baffle. It also elevated the humble bottle of Becks to cultural significance, and basically everyone should try counting things for a month every year otherwise how on earth do you discover how your life is evolving?
5) Local History Month(2003-2019)
This is possibly the longstanding series I'm most proud of. A new theme every summer in multiple parts involving a relentless focus on somewhere local, and all without trying to scare the audience away. I particularly enjoyed the long walks following boundaries or lines of latitude and the really long walks following certain rivers. One series which might have helped cement this blog's reputation was my travelogue along the River Fleet, especially because this was back in 2005 when historic internet content was hard to source so it was tricky to be definitive, but I still got a monthsworth out of it. Go local, go deep.
» August 2003:Where I live(famous places within 15 minutes of my house)
» August 2004:Piccadilly(a walk down Mayfair's most famous street)
» August 2005:the River Fleet(tracking the subterranean river)[photos]
» August 2006:Betjeman's Metro-land(Baker Street to Verney Junction)[photos]
» August 2007:Walk London(following bits of London's six strategic walks)[photos]
» August 2008:High Street 2012(the Olympic highway from Aldgate to Stratford)[photos]
» August 2009:Walking the Lea Valley(50 miles from Luton to Leamouth)[photos]
» August 2010:Not-London 2012(Exploring Olympic venues outside the capital)[photos]
» July/August 2012:The OlympicGames(at the end of my street)[photos]
» September 2013:Walking the New River(a 400th birthday stroll)[photos]
» August 2014:London Borough Tops(the highest point in 33 boroughs)[photos]
» August 2015:Round Tower(a walk round the edge of Tower Hamlets)[photos]
» August 2018:51½°N(crossing London on a line of latitude)[photos]
» August 2019:Ten false starts(a clutch of single-post series)
6) Tube Week(2003-2012)
Here's where I started letting my nerdy side run riot. A whole week of tube-related content including reportage, facts and a daily quiz, and then somehow the same again for nine more years. I threw in an Overground Week in 2017 but haven't been back to this feature since, and maybe I should given that some of you would simply salivate at the thought. There must be more alphabetical challenges, quirky gatelines and Next Train Indicators installed by cretins out there by now.
» 2003200420052006200720082009201020112012
7) Riding a bus route(2003-2022)
I spotted early that a great way to blog about London was to describe what you could see from a bus (and the characters aboard it too). I started with a week of Cube Routes (1, 8, 27, 64, 125, 216, N343), followed that up with Square Routes and Prime Movers, then tackled chains of buses across and around the capital. I've also featured an alphabetof buses, London's ten shortest routes, even a trek along the North Circular, but the really fun one is my 'birthday bus ride' which I started at 42 and most recently reached the 57 to Kingston. London's bus routes offer an endless stream of potential content that's nowhere near exhausted.
9) Bow Road Update(2004-2005)
When Metronet arrived to upgrade my local tube station I got somewhat obsessive in recording what they were doing. This soon turned into recording what they weren't doing, because Bow Road was a guinea pig station and Metronet proved to be an entirely incompetent infraco. So slow and substandard was their transformation that I blogged about if relentlessly and eventually Evening Standard journalist Andrew Gilligan rang me up to get the full story. His subsequent expose was dismissed by the Chairman of Metronet thus: "Articles which refer to an unnamed passenger's account having travelled through a station quite frankly are not worthy of any detailed examination", so that told me. But Metronet went bust shortly afterwards so I'm claiming the last laugh there.
10) My new Z470xi mobile (2007)
Oh this was fun. I suddenly accelerated my blogposts by a week, claiming I had a mysterious new phone, and then unfolded an increasingly-desperate tale of impending apocalypse on and under the streets of London. I never told you what I was doing, just left you to work out I'd gone full-on fictional, and at the very end of the month went totally silent as if the worst had come to pass. I'm not sure I could get away with anything like this again, but it was very enjoyable to write.
11) London Loop(2007-2017)/Capital Ring(2011)
I walked both of these walks in short bursts, not necessarily in order, and spread my rambles over a number of years. My reports on each section are therefore all over the place, and the older ones are also much less detailed than the newer ones because I've ramped up the amount I write over the years. What's been useful is that a lot of you have walked these paths too so mentioning 'London Loop section X' provides a useful hook on which to hang many blogposts from the suburbs. Hurry up Ramblers, I'm ready to walk your new routes.
12) AnorakCorner(2007-2022)
I first started taking an interest in Underground and National Rail passenger numbers in 2007, knocking up lists of most- and (more excitingly) least-used stations on each network. Back then these statistics often went unnoticed for days, even weeks, whereas now the release of the annual National Rail passenger count is a full-on bandwagon-rolling press jamboree. I'd like to think that interest in "the least used station in administrative area X" might have started here, but I may just be deluding myself. Latest versions are here (each with links back to all the older versions): [rail][tube][bus]
13) PR emails I have received(2009-2022)
Even though I don't reprocess press releases or pump out sponsored posts, marketing minions still send me emails hoping that I might. I then delight in summarising their weasel phrases, with all brand names withdrawn, and totally ripping the piss. I don't receive as many as I did, thank god, but even last week I received a missive from Gene which ended "Reply something if you're interested. We're humans and love to help each other, don't we?". No Gene, not when they're as lickspittly mercenary as you.
14) Lost Rivers(2010)/Unlost Rivers(2015-2019)
After I totally failed to write a book on lost rivers for Penguin Random House I went ahead and wrote it anyway, but published it in monthly chunks on this blog instead. "Look," I said to myself, "I could have researched and catalogued the Tyburn, Neckinger and Bollo Brook with full pictorial evidence after all." Since then I've also gone on to walk many an unlost unculverted river, from the Dollis Brook to the River Shuttle, and in good news I still have several more to go. London blogging doesn't get much more quintessentially psychogeographical than this.
15) Beyond London(2014-2017)
After I'd emptied my jamjar I went on to explore the 17 local authority areas immediately outside Greater London. I started in Dartford and ended in Thurrock, heading out on a Saturday to visit four sites of interest and then forcing myself to write about them. Travelling was sometimes hard because transport's less good beyond London, but my explorations really helped in knitting together a mental picture of what the inner Home Counties look like. Also I don't think I'd ever have thought to go to Lowewood Museum, Stoke Poges and Titsey Hall otherwise.
2014: Dartford, Sevenoaks, Tandridge, Reigate & Banstead, Epsom & Ewell
2015: Mole Valley, Elmbridge, Spelthorne, Slough, South Bucks
2016: Three Rivers, Hertsmere, Welwyn Hatfield, Broxbourne, Epping Forest
2017: Brentwood, Thurrock
16) Bus Stop M(2015-2017)
My local bus stop should never have reached legendary status, but a chain of muck-ups during the installation of a segregated cycle superhighway lane brought it to unexpected prominence. If only they hadn't closed a bus stop by moving its pole 200m up the road and then forgetting to update all the electronic data that went along with it, maybe 20% of the debacle could have been avoided. I'm pleased to say Bus Stop M's a lot more stable now - it even has its own Countdown display - although nobody's ever replaced the spider map someone removed in 2020, and I'd be much obliged if someone at TfL could print one out and slap it back up.
19) Unblogged(2018-2022)
I've now brought you four years of these snippety summary posts, one per month, listing one thing per day I never told you about at the time. Sometimes it's quite trivial, sometimes it's something that would never have deserved a post of its own and sometimes it's deliberately obtuse because I have no intention of telling you what it really is. A special hello to the misguided optimists who, having read the phrase "questions will not be answered", go ahead and ask one anyway. One day I will learn to write these unblogged posts as the month progresses, but I always seem to end up rushing it all at the end.
20) The Olympics(2002-2022)
I can't finish without mentioning the Olympics, an ultra-local project which tentativelyemerged at the start of my blog, peaked in the middle with the Gamesthemselves and is still reverberating through the Lower Lea Valley today. The 2012 Olympics has undoubtedly generated more column inches on this blog than any other single topic, thanks to the simple accident of me unintentionally living nextdoor, so brace yourself for a lot more. The five-ring circus never goes away.
Random borough (22): Time once more for me to take another random trip to one of London's 33 boroughs. As I write I have no idea which one of the 12 remaining borough names will be revealed when I unfold the slip of paper I'm about to pick from my legendary (but unseen) "special jamjar". I could pick any one of the other London boroughs - inner or outer, urban or suburban, small or large, fascinating or dull. I just know it won't be Merton, Islington, Enfield, Sutton, Lewisham, Southwark, Kensington & Chelsea, Hackney, Hillingdon, the City, Bromley, Lambeth, Tower Hamlets, Haringey, Hounslow, Brent, Redbridge, Ealing, Harrow, Croydon or Waltham Forest, because they're the twenty-one (dark grey) boroughs I've picked out already.
Random borough (12): It's time once again for me to take another random trip to one of London's 33 boroughs). One third now complete, two thirds yet to visit. As I write I have no idea which one of the 22 remaining names will be revealed when I unfold the slip of paper I'm about to pick from my "special jamjar". I could pick any of London's other boroughs - inner or outer, urban or suburban, small or large, fascinating or dull. I just know it won't be Merton, Islington, Enfield, Sutton, Lewisham, Southwark, Kensington & Chelsea, Hackney, Hillingdon, the City or Bromley because they're the eleven (dark grey) boroughs I've picked out already. My last two visits have been to London's smallest borough followed by London's largest borough, so at least today's selection can't be quite so extreme.
Wandsworth is in southwest London, close enough in parts to feel distinctly metropolitan, far enough in others to be proper suburbia. Much of its Thames-side fringe has recently been overtaken by a string of vulgar apartment blocks, whereas the interior is generally of solid Victorian stock. Wandsworth's also renowned for its extremely low council tax, usually amongst the very lowest in the country, which is one reason why the borough museum closed a few years back. Frugality might also explain why the council's website was bugger-all help in planning my whistlestop tour around the borough yesterday. But I found plenty of interest all the same.
New Covent Garden Flower Market: To enable Covent Garden to become a central London tourist trap, all the flowersellers had to move out. And its to Nine Elms that they fled, to a new 1970s market building blessed with chilled air conditioning and an isometric roof. The site had previously been a locomotive works, but go back even further and it was almost one of the most important stations in London. In 1838 the services of the London & Southampton Railway terminated here, and passengers had to continue into the centre of town by boat or road. Damned inconvenient, so the company extended their tracks to a new inner terminus and shut Nine Elms down. You've probably heard of Waterloo station, it's quite busy these days.
The US Embassy: Ah, this hasn't arrived yet. But Uncle Sam's new home is at the planning stage already, and everyone should eventually be moving out of Grosvenor Square to this unassuming Wandsworth location. It's a seemingly odd choice. At the moment the chosen spot is part of a relatively inaccessible industrial estate that's seen far better days. There are several anonymous warehouses, and a Bentley dealership, and an imposing 80s office block now boarded up with weeds growing across an extensive courtyard. My photo shows Ponton Road, which is to be diverted so that the new embassy building can be built slap bang across its former carriageway. Current plans feature "consular pavilions", "earth sculptures" and "public art opportunities", but expect an expensive hi-tech fortress within which visas will be denied and potential immigrants will be belitted. Happy future Independence Day.
Battersea Power Station: A 1930s coal-fired shouldn't gladden the heart but, even in its derelict state, this towering workhorse still has a special place in Londoners' hearts. It must be the chimneys, visible for miles around, and still mighty impressive from almost-up-close. Sir Giles Gilbert Scott's temple of power generated mega-megawatts for London before the off switch was finally flicked in 1983. Proposals for the building's rebirth have been many - a theme park, offices, a shopping mall - but planning dissent and failed funding have left the building roofless and decaying. The latest residential plan even selfishly suggests a short spur off the Northern line to serve tenants and shoppers, and bugger anyone living further west in Wandsworth or Battersea proper. Most worrying is the idea that the chimneys are in a precarious state and may have to be replaced, because I'd have no faith that once demolished they'd ever be rebuilt. Instead I cherish my memories of a tour of the interior in 2006 for a Chinese art exhibition, and I fear I may never get the opportunity again.
Battersea Dogs Home: And Cats, these days, before anyone adds a comment to correct me. The nation's favourite pet dispensary moved to Battersea in 1871, at which time it was known as The Temporary Home for Lost and Starving Dogs. Its operations have expanded somewhat since, and the Battersea site now includes kennels for nearly 300 dogs and even a suite of "Cat Socialising Rooms". The current building resembles a cross between a small prison and a Travelodge, but is (one suspects) slightly more comfortable inside. Passers-by along Battersea Park Road are still met by the unmistakable sound of hopeful barking attempting to tempt them inside. Late afternoon I watched as a smiling family emerged into the sunlight with a new addition, the lady of the house clutching a fragile puppy in her arms. Once across the road and into the car, a new home beckoned. Buster, Pippin and Beetroot still await their happy ending.
Battersea Park: And finally, one of London's very finest parks. It's blessed by a riverside location, and it's huge, and yesterday it was the perfect spot for thousands of Wandsworthians to strip down and toast their flesh. Unlike many other London parks, it's hard to get bored here. Take a look inside the Pump House Art Gallery, go for a pedal around the boating lake, or maybe potter around the children's zoo. My choices included watching the sun glinting on the 25-year-old Peace Pagoda, going for a wander along the Tea Terrace, and enjoying a bit of cooling spray around the central fountains. Back in 1951 these synchronised gushers were a centrepiece of the park's contribution to the Festival of Britain, advertised as the "Festival Gardens" and boasting a large number of whimsical attractions. Most were swiftly withdrawn afterwards, but the Battersea funfair survived into the 1970s until doomed by a fatal Big Dipper accident. Traces of past glories remain, but these days the park's simpler pleasures are perfectly attractive.
The second biggest prison in the UK (after Liverpool, if you must know) is tucked away inside a pocket of suburbia to the southeast of Wandsworth town centre. The prison opened in 1851 as The Surrey House of Correction, arranged radiallly with six cellblock wings that still house prisoners to this day. In total 135 inmates have experienced irreversible 'correction' at Wandsworth, most of these on the gallows located in "The Cold Meat Shed". Many renowned miscreants have spent time within the prison's walls, including Oscar Wilde, Charles Bronson and Pete Docherty, although most inmates are only here before being packed off to somewhere else. One convict who refused to hang around was train robber Ronnie Biggs, who escaped from the exercise yard in an audacious breakout in 1965 and rapidly swapped South London for South America.
In 1647, during a lull in the English Civil War, the New Model Army bedded down in Putney for a few months. Amongst other things their thoughts turned to representative democracy, like you do, and an unlikely series of debates took place. Should every soldier, every land owner or even every free citizen, have the right to vote? Did the King have a divine right, or should the people demand equality under the law? Pretty basic stuff today, but ideas unrehearsed at the time. A manifesto was put forward entitled The Case of the Armie Truly Stated, and the voice of the common man was put forward by a disparate pressure group called the Levellers.
The Putney Debates exhibition is crammed into a tiny alcove close to the entrance. There are several fact-packed display boards to read, plus an hour's worth of video to watch. Don't worry, there's also a seat, because this could take some time. I pressed button 1 to hear more about Putney's constitutional legacy from various luminaries including Tony Benn, Lady Antonia Fraser and our Giles. I wasn't quite convinced that the debates lay the foundations for modern civil liberties, but as an early symbol of emerging democracy they remain unmatched. A quotation from a Roundhead army captain has been inscribed in gold on the south wall where you might expect to find a line from scripture. "I think that the poorest he that is in England hath a life to live, as the greatest he". How very apposite. And plenty to ponder over a caramel milkshake in the café on the way out.
When the London County Council sought to rehouse ten thousand inner London slum dwellers in the late 1950s, their eyes alighted on what was then the westernmost tip of the capital. Beyond Roehampton Lane, in the parkland grounds of several former Georgian mansions, they plotted the construction of a vast council estate to the very latest architectural specifications.The Alton Estate was designed in two contrasting halves. Alton East was softly Modernist with a mixture of low- and high-rise housing, and nothing particularly extraordinary. But Alton West was built to a more Brutalist functional agenda, reflecting Le Corbusier's recent success in Marseille with l'Unité d'Habitation. The first Alton residents loved it.
Rising above them all, along the brow of the hill, are five imposing eleven-storey slab-blocks. They're aligned in parallel, staggered diagonally, each perched up on matchstalk pillars to provide residents with a grandstand view. Grade II* listed, obviously, although I'd be surprised if anyone from English Heritage would choose to live here.
When I mentioned the London Sewing Machine Museum in passing last week, little did I imagine I'd be walking through its hallowed portal over the weekend. The museum's only open for three hours a month, so the chances of ever finding myself in the vicinity were quite frankly minimal. But when eleven-to-one shot Wandsworth emerged from my random jamjar on the first Saturday of the month, I decided I had to visit. It took two attempts to get inside because the website doesn't reveal any precise opening times (two til five, as it turned out). But I'm so glad I made the effort, because the experience was unforgettable.
On the first floor I entered a room filled with more sewing machines than I'd ever seen in my life [photo]. Shelf after shelf, with more laid out on tables across the floor, every space filled, every machine dutifully labelled. This room's home to the more workaday machines, mostly black, once commonplace in homes and factories across the country. Before all our clothes arrived via imported sweatshops, Britons were clothed only thanks to these machines and the skill of their operators. I looked in vain for the precise model my Mum used to own, although the Silko reels and coffin-top carrying cases seemed eminently familiar. A brief video in the far corner told the story of the museum, information which was also detailed in a 13-page stapled handout freely available to take away.
The collection has breadth and diversity - it's not all sewing machines. Threads and needles and pattern books, obviously, plus a delightful wind-up marionette merrily sewing away beneath a glass belljar. One corner has been given over to recreating Ray's dad's sewing machine shop along the Merton Road, a poignant display of labelled merchandise from an era I can almost remember myself [photo]. There are antique clocks too, plus a proper barrel organ that plays music hall tunes which the curator willingly demonstrated to the watching crowds. Not terribly large crowds, admittedly, but the Australian trio and myself were duly appreciative.
Perfect day for it. A dip in Britain's largest freshwater swimming pool, all one million gallons of it, was packing them in on Saturday at the eastern end of Tooting Bec Common. Opened as the Tooting Bathing Lake in 1906, this outdoor pool evolved into a lido in the Thirties and is a notable survivor of Wandsworth council's relentless cutbacks. The public are allowed in between May and September, while the South London Swimming Club have exclusive access during the often-freezing winter months. One 100 yard-long swimming pool, one much smaller paddling pool, a café and a bit of grass for sunbathing on - these are simple pleasures. Not that I was getting inside for a look. The lido's deliberately screened behind an earth bank and various rows of trees, so that snooping is pretty much impossible. Turnstiles bar the way at the entrance, as well as a sulky guard, and on Saturday morning additional security was being called in to cope with the burgeoning crowds. Alas I hadn't brought a towel or my trunks (do swimmers still wear trunks or is everything baggy Speedos these days, I wouldn't know), so getting inside would have been pointless. All I could see through the gap was the bright blue shallow end and a gushing weddingcake fountain. A walk around the perimeter proved difficult, not least because the lido was built right up close to the East Croydon mainline. But I did eventually catch sight of a few of the Lido's trademark primary-coloured changing booths through the trees, across the railway. Sorry, I wasn't attempting too look like a pervy stalker lurking in the undergrowth. But why should swimmers have all the fun?
There were two wooden escalators, in parallel, constructed by the Otis Elevator Company of New York. They climbed at an angle of 26½°, raising passengers a total of 38 feet from the lower Piccadilly to just below the District. A row of decorative uplighters ran up the centre between the two, and a big sign had to be erected at the bottom warning riders not to sit on the handrails. When stopped there were 57 steps to climb; when running the ascent took 25 seconds. The steps were oak, because oak was fireproof, while the balustrades were a rather lovely slice of teak. And these weren't quite the escalators we know now, with safety combs at the end, but instead had a 'shunt' landing at the top which forced passengers to step off sideways. No, I can't quite picture that either, I'm merely duplicating the descriptive text from somewhere else.
It is of course the done thing to celebrate 100th anniversaries early, so I've already been to Earl's Court for my celebratory ride. Two things struck me as nigh identical to 1911. One was the shaft itself - a bit narrow perhaps, but still rising at 26½°. And the other was Bumper Harris. OK, not exactly the great man himself, but it seems TfL still employ staff to ensure that the Earl's Court escalator is safe. One on duty at the bottom, another at the top, in case rush hour passenger numbers between District and Piccadilly get too great and throughflow has to be restricted. But the Otis Type A is long gone, after a century that's seen escalator usage climb from the unique to the commonplace.
Somewhere random: Jubilee Greenway (section 1)
» Buckingham Palace: It always amuses me that Londoners don't give the Queen's place a second look, but tourists can't seem to drag themselves away. Late each morning, thronging behind the barriers, peering through the bars, trying to catch a glimpse of a few furry soldiers. They wait, and they wait some more, then snap snap flash as the marchpast fleets by. I left them to it.
This can't come as news to any of you, it's probably the most famous bit of obscure tube trivia around. But there are two houses in a Bayswater sidestreet which aren't really houses at all, and all to keep the neighbours happy. When the Metropolitan railway was built in the 1860s, via the cut and cover method, several buildings along the route had to be demolished. Most were replaced but a few stretches of open tunnel were needed so that the engines could vent their steam at selected spots. One such gap was here on the line between Bayswater and Paddington, although residents of leafy Leinster Gardens weren't best pleased at a gap being knocked in their elegant façade. So some five-feet-thick false frontage was constructed, almost perfectly matching the rest of the street, and two fake addresses took their place between numbers 22 and 25. [photo]
Blimey, that's both of London's major cricket grounds covered on this blog in under a week, who'd have thought? This one's older, even taking into consideration it's actually the third Lord's Cricket Ground over the years. The first lies under council housing on the Lisson Grove estate, and the second had to shift when the Regent's Canal ploughed through in the early 19th century. The Marylebone Cricket Club played their first match on their latest ground in 1814 (beating Hertfordshire by an innings and 27 runs), and the first Test match came along 80 years later. Lord's may only busy for a few days a year, and the owners could surely make a huge amount more money if they sold the land for building, but still the MCC rolls on.
