If you didn't get tickets to the men's 100m final and are angry about it, you probably have very little understanding of the laws of probability. But if you didn't get any tickets to the Games at all, or did but fancy some more, then this is the week to take action. More than a million tickets will be available, most for the Paralympics rather than the Olympics, but still providing plenty of opportunity to get inside a venue and lap up the atmosphere. If you're still whingeing next week, either your cash reserves are too low or your expectations are too high.
Paralympic leftovers: Over a million tickets go on sale this morning at 11am. That's not great if you're at work in a non-internet environment but, this being the Paralympics, it's very unlikely that events will sell out really quickly. No specific details of session availability will be made available in advance, so you'll have to dig around on www.tickets.london2012.com to discover precisely what's available and at what price. But expect tickets to start at only £10, in a variety of events, with the greatest availability in Athletics. Yes, Athletics. If you fancy a trip inside the Olympic Park and inside the Olympic Stadium, then Paralympic Athletics is your golden ticket. Other venues in the Park with decent availability include the Aquatic Centre (yes, honest, for Swimming) and the Basketball Arena. Even the Opening and Closing Ceremonies have half-decent availability, although maybe at a price. The Paralympic Closing Ceremony is essentially a dressed-up Coldplay concert, if that's of any interest. At the other end of the availability scale, the Archery and Shooting in Woolwich are almost sold out already. At only £10 a ticket, these might well be events to target at 10:59am this morning before they all disappear. Also at only £10, day passes (with sport) will be available for the Olympic Park or for ExCel, which may be well worth considering. The full availability summary is here. Don't be sniffy, grab yourself a bargain.
Olympic leftovers: These go on sale this Wednesday at 11am. They're the same tickets that were available last week to ticketless applicants, or at least all of those that haven't yet sold out. Expect most of the leftovers to be in the expensive price brackets (for example no Athletics tickets below £400), or to be in Football (which not enough people genuinely care about). Again it's first come first served, and open to anyone, so best get in fast.
Fresh Olympic tickets: The following go on sale next Tuesday 29th May at 11am. a) Cycling Road Race: £15 or £10 gets you into special enclosures either at Box Hill or at Hampton Court. Or it's free (and ticketless) everywhere else between here and The Mall. b) Tennis: £10 gets you onto Henman Hill to watch Olympic matches on a big screen. c) Orbit: If you have a ticket to the Olympic Park, and only if, you can buy an ticket up the big red observation tower for £15. Tickets will probably be for a specific time on your particular day, but that's not yet confirmed. At least there'll be something decent to see from the observation deck this summer, which may not be the case when the tower reopens 18 months later. d) Olympic Park Pass: This is ideal if you only want to get inside the Olympic Park for the atmosphere, not the sport. Alas, expect ridiculously few of these to go on sale, no more than a few thousand a day.
And then soon, sometime between late May and July, everyone's tickets will start to arrive. They're being delivered by Royal Mail, and they'll need to be signed for. And that may cause a few problems...
» Your tickets are being sent to whatever address LOCOG had in their system on February 6th. If you've moved house since, bad luck. Royal Mail will still attempt delivery to your old address, and only your old address, unless you've previously set up a redirection service. » Anyone at the designated address can sign for your package. That's probably good news... unless you've moved house since, in which case it's very bad news. » Royal Mail will send email notification on the day your tickets are due to be delivered. But there'll be no earlier warning, so you won't be able to rearrange your schedule to be at home that day. » If you're not at home when the tickets are delivered, they go back to your local sorting office. You can arrange redelivery, but only to the same address. After 18 days at the depot your tickets go back to LOCOG. Once they've been returned, you can only pick them up at a London 2012 ticket office. These will be open at venues at Games time, including on the day of your event. » Only when your tickets arrive do you finally discover which seats you've been allocated. A list of seating plans is available here. If you opted for the cheapest tickets, don't be surprised to find yourself in the cheapest most far-flung seats.
It has to be said, the entire London 2012 ticketing system has been opaque, perverse and seemingly made-up by the organisers as they went along. Deadlines have slipped by months, understandings have entirely altered, and the actual sizes of ticket allocations have been suspiciously concealed. The whole enterprise has done nothing to engender feelings of fairness, that's for sure. But if you still fancy taking part, this week's your best chance to mop up what's left.
If London is to survive into the 21st century as a global business hub, then greater airport capacity is undoubtedly required. But where? A third runway at Heathrow would be hugely controversial, requiring the demolition of a Middlesex village and an increased aircraft noise across West London. The government has confirmed that they would never give consent. A new airport in the Thames Estuary would be an environmental catastrophe, requiring the desecration of important natural resources. The people of Kent would never tolerate such an intrusion. But there is another way, a simpler solution, the perfect compromise. We must build Plaistow International Airport. You know it makes sense.
10 reasons why London must build Plaistow Airport
1) A new Plaistow Airport would recognise the increasing importance of East London, and would provide ease of international access to Canary Wharf, the Royal Docks and the post-Olympic Park. 2) The airport could be the size of Heathrow without causing any significant environmental damage beyond the boundaries of the London borough of Newham. 3) It's only Plaistow. Nobody will care if we demolish it. 4) West London has suffered enough from aircraft noise. It's only fair that the eastern side of the capital now takes its fair share of relentless jet droning. Let's bring peace to Brentford, even if that means double-glazed misery for Bow. 5) The proposed airport has excellent transport links, with both the DLR and the Jubilee line running along the perimeter of the site. Drivers would have easy access to the new airport via the A13. The District line already runs right through the heart of the site, with two existing stations that could be redeveloped underground as Plaistow Airport Central and Plaistow Terminal 2. 6) Plaistow Airport would be 15 miles closer than Heathrow to our main European trading partners, saving millions of hours of excess flying time each year. 7) The only economic asset of any importance in the designated demolition zone is West Ham United football club, and they'll be moving to the Olympic Stadium soon anyway. 8) There are already too many benefit scroungers living in the Plaistow/East Ham area. As part of the government's plan to remove such parasites, tens of thousands could be forcibly relocated to purpose built estates in the Home Counties, for example on the Isle of Grain. 9) Heathrow and Plaistow are very similar words, which might help to cement a new airport brand identity in the minds of potential foreign travellers. BAA must grasp the opportunity to upgrade the area's pronunciation from the frankly common "Plah-stow" to the much more desirable "Play-stow". 10) It would be ghastly if London's powerbrokers weren't able to fly abroad fifteen times a year for business meetings and skiing holidays. Let's sacrifice Plaistow now, for the benefit of the Londoners who truly matter.
I got Reddited again yesterday. Which was uncomfortable.
Some people who never read the site but know what good website design is, discussed what good website design is and wondered why I didn't realise that.
» Web developer here. I think his points about making his site work best for big screens is probably a bit short-sighted, although without seeing his web stats maybe he's right. More and more websites are being built "mobile first" now, meaning they should look good by default on mobiles and small-screen devices, and "progressively enhance" to match the user's browsing context. You don't have to be a web genius to do this kind of stuff, there are a billion Wordpress themes that can do this. But if you're sweating over your content to make it engaging and well-written, why would you treat it with contempt and throw it onto a difficult to read and fairly ugly template, then respond to criticism by effectively saying "well, it works on my screen"? Just my $0.02 [guitarromantic]
» Agreed. These principles are unified under the handy term responsive design. [Deku-shrub]
» "I'm continuing to make the fatal assumption that you're all viewing my blog the same way I am, and it still looks fine to me. Only when I buy myself a smartphone and start to view my blog through different eyes might things begin to change. Until then, sorry, the terrible-looking site lingers on." » This is a pretty ignorant attitude to take, especially given the valuable free insight of people's impressions of his site. As guitarromantic pointed out, there are tons of wordpress templates and the like which are so easy to configure and at the same time able to keep the depth of content. If he's only doing the site for his own benefit, why bother publishing it online at all. [lookatmeme]
My occasional irony may have passed lookatmeme by.
» I guess this guy is not aiming his website to bring him any famous nor the capacity to claim he got crazy amount of readers. Hence his regular posts turning down marketing offers for free stuff. He probably just discovered that he was reddited and gave his 2 cents about the comments he read. My personal opinion is it seems to be a rather popular blog among londonish network websites and people obviously follow his posts for their interest to the content itself. My advice : Read it through a RSS reader, you'll get rid of the interface stuff and would be able to focus on content :) [whyoji]
» I read his blog everyday, it has great content (most of the time) but if you look through it you can see that he clearly likes writing and is not trying to build an audience or make money. [somabc]
» I've been reading DG for many years now, and for the most part have been doing so through something like Google Reader. It makes it infinitely more legible, and I have to admit that I've not even thought about the design of the site in a long long time. Equally, I can think of loads of my feeds where I have no idea what the current site design actually looks like. Nice, clean Google Reader interface for me, thanks. [gooneruk]
» I have to say, my initial post mostly directed at the specific post that was linked which was so badly formatted I gave up trying to read it. The rest of your site isn't as bad as I suggested it is. [eastlondonmandem]
» I look forward to tomorrow's post where he addresses all the concerns we make today. [somabc]
» Oh god it's never-ending! [Xenc]
» It's funny because you're blaming mobile browsers, yet your site is hard to read on my 22" 1080p screen. All that's down to poor typography, and general design wise, it's very 1990's. Could be much worse, but it's still not very readable. There are plenty of typography guidelines out there, particularly with regards to line length. [foetuseofexcellence]
As July gets closer, public access around the Olympic Park is being inexorably closed off [map]. Additional fences are going up, gates are clanging shut, and final cups of coffee are being served. Yes, it's the turn of the Greenway past the Olympic Stadium to be sealed off, with lockdown commencing at 8am tomorrow morning [photo]. If you want to get up close to the stadium you've only got today, after which any view will have to be from rather further away.
Part of me is very pleasantly surprised that they kept the Greenway open for so long. It runs right through the heart of the Olympic Park, with long-term building sites on either side, and yet some kind soul decided that the public would be permitted to retain access. Initially there were security guards with dogs posted here, then they threw up high metal fences and left electronic sentinels to do their job. At first the public barely came, just those of us who live round here and people cycling through. It took a cafe and observation deck in a stack of lime green containers to draw the wider population in [photo]. But by the end, on a typical weekend afternoon, you could barely move for inquisitive souls and tour parties corralled by Blue Badge Guides. A crowd by the map board, several families slurping drinks, even the occasional purchase at the London 2012 shop. Not any more.
The View Tube served its last bacon sandwich yesterday afternoon. They waved the final customer out onto the decking, locked the doors and then filed off to the kitchen for a last round of washing up. Somebody inside popped up to the observation deck for a zoom lens photo, one final opportunity to record the changes taking place a few hundred metres across the ring road [photo]. A small group of foreign tourists stood outside by the railings and pointed across at the Olympic panorama, while a mother sat patiently as her two small children let off steam. The View Tube's flowers were looking nice, especially those planted in the leftover canoe, although several beds look set to burst into bloom only after everyone's gone [photo]. And in the long metal shelter, half-shuttered, the London 2012 shop was closing down. Staff stood counting the leftover keyrings (yes, rather a lot) and packing their stock away into "Made in China" boxes [photo]. Then it was onto the trolley to be pushed carefully down the ramp, and under the railway, and forever off the site.
The mute security guards are still there at the bottom of that ramp. They've shifted position a few times over the years as the main road into the Olympic Park has been rerouted, but remain ever alert in case some Greenway pedestrian might veer off the zebra crossing and sneak into the park. Closing down the path tomorrow means the guards can finally leave their stations and go protect something more important instead. The new perimeter gate is already up and ready, a few feet to the north of the railway, and a favoured spot for rats from what I saw last night.
A short dead-end alleyway will remain beneath the arches, twisting round to Pudding Mill Lane DLR. This remains open until early July, and then suffers the same fate as the View Tube. It's all for the construction of the South Spectator Entrance and associated transport hub, which can now continue without interruption from an annoying public right of way. I'll recommend Pudding Mill's platform to you as the best remaining spot from which to view the Olympic Park, at least for the next eight weeks, but it's not as good as the Greenway panorama, sorry. The final backstage mega-prefabs will be erected unscrutinised, and the last spruce-up of the parklands will be unseen [photo]. You have 24 hours to get in and see what your taxes have paid for, unless of course you're fortunate enough to have tickets for the main event. Whatever, pencil in your next View Tube cappuccino for sometime around Christmas... assuming anyone's still interested in the aftermath of the Games by then.
Future closures » Saturday 19th May: The Greenway past the Olympic Stadium (reopens in December) (sheesh, a seven month closure, that's bad) » Tuesday 3rd July: The Lea Navigation Towpath from Hackney Marshes to the Bow Flyover (reopens 10th September) » Saturday 14th July: Pudding Mill Lane DLR (reopens 13th September)
Photos of the Olympic Stadium from the Greenway, 2007-2012 My full set of 45 photos, taken monthly-ish, is now complete (slideshow)
Reddit, if you don't know, is a long-standing online community where users add links to an ever-bubbling noticeboard. If they like something they vote it up, and if they don't they vote it down. What with Redditors being just a trifle nerdgeeky, they liked my list of station usage data and voted it up. Hey presto, well over a thousand of them clicked over, which was nice.
And then they went back to their own site and left comments. "I thought Clapham Junction was the busiest train station in the U.K." said one. "It's the busiest because lots of trains go through it, but this list is busiest in terms of passengers using the stations" said another. "Stratford... it's crazy busy. I travel from there every morning. Sometimes I've been on a completely packed train to the point that West Ham and Canning Town folks can't really get on at all," added a third. And then somebody said this.
» What a terrible looking site. [eastlondonmandem]
Oh, I wasn't expecting that. The feedback continued.
» content over form isn't necessarily a bad thing [Scary_] » Pretty sure it's been the same since 1999. The content is great, but I agree that it could do with a facelift. [Larwood] » OK - the aesthetics might not be "modern", but is that really a reason to change? The Golden Syrup tin hasn't changed since it was designed and is now considered a classic. [geekchic]
There then followed a wildly tangential geekbitchfight debating the merits (or otherwise) of Javascript and Ajax, because that's what Reddit's like sometimes. But I was left thinking, oh, does my website really look crap?
I'm still using a Blogger template from ten years ago. It used to be a vile shade of green, which I soon updated to silver (or, OK, grey). But other than that it's still pretty much the same layout and design as ten years ago, mildly tweaked, with added bits embedded here and there. It's fairly simple underneath, and I understand how it all fits together, so who cares if it's little more than two ashen strips with text in? I'm betting you're here for what I've written, rather than how it looks, so I place all my effort there.
But, looking afresh, I'm probably doing myself no favours. Those thousand plus people who surfed in yesterday, many for the first time, may well have formed a snap judgement on my site based on one page of ugliness. They won't be back. And yet perhaps leaden grey clunkiness is the least of my problems, maybe it's screen size. It used to be that most people accessed the web via a computer with a big screen, but today the driving impetus is portable miniaturisation. I don't yet have a smartphone, so it struck me that perhaps my blog might look godawful on a mobile, even to the point of illegibility. Ulp. So I unearthed a few emulators online and, ah, oh dear, maybe that's not good at all.
On an iPad, seemingly, no problem. I stuck diamondgeezer.blogspot.com into a iPad simulator and it looks fine, even quite swish, with all the greys and blacks and indigos blending well. But on an iPhone, if theseemulators are anything to go by, it's not so hot. My dark grey sidebar's only 180 pixels wide, which is nothing on a normal screen, but on a thin mobile screen it's much too over-dominant. There's not enough space to the left for the main text, so far as I can see, which then becomes much too titchy to easily read. Or maybe I have a scrolling problem. Using this emulator the text comes up full size but runs straight off the edge, back and forth, which you'd need the patience of a saint to coherently read. In the upcoming futureworld of mobile browsing, it seems, my blog is several different types of unreadable. Sorry.
To confirm this sorry state of affairs I tested my blog for mobile-readiness using a couple of validationsites. They weren't best pleased. I'm doing lots of things wrong, apparently, which makes my blog almost as mobile-unfriendly as it gets.
The size of the document's markup exceeds 10 kilobytes. Er, yes. My mark-up's 167.6KB, apparently, so it takes an age to load. Too long, or too data-expensive, for most people to bother.
There are more than 20 embedded external resources. Er, yes. I let readers see up to a fortnight's posts all in one go, which is a lot of photos for one page. No problem on a broadband PC, but a fatal choking error in your pocket.
A "javascript:" link is used. Er, yes. My comments pop-up via Javascript, but mobiles hate pop-ups with a vengeance.
There are nested tables. Er, yes. My entire template is a two-column table, rather than a seamless CSS stylesheet, which is appallingly old-school.
The document does not validate against XHTML Basic 1.1 or MP 1.2. Er, no. And the list of failures goes on, and on, and on.
What I ought to undertake is a complete template redesign. Something swish and modern, something off the shelf, rather than a creaking internet dinosaur that's unfit for purpose. Websites like Londonist and Ian Visits have already upgraded to mobile-friendly templates where you can only view one post at a time, never two, which makes them much easier to load. London Reconnections now has an alternative mobile format which strips away the sidebar and leaves the main content perfectly legible, just like magic. Or perhaps I could retreat to dumbdown geezer, my April Fool from last year, which I deliberately slimmed down to simplistic levels for readability's sake. As another Redditor says...
» It could do with a lot more contrast in the content area, as well as a smaller column size for the main content (we aren't reading on 1024x768 any more!) [r3m0t]
But stuff that. I want to flaunt the depth of my content, not hide it away. I'm a webpage purveyor, optimised for the big screen. I'm a child of 2002, still doing landscape while the world's going portrait. I'm a miserable coding stick-in-the-mud, happy with what I've got until someone proves it's broken. I'm continuing to make the fatal assumption that you're all viewing my blog the same way I am, and it still looks fine to me. Only when I buy myself a smartphone and start to view my blog through different eyes might things begin to change. Until then, sorry, the terrible-looking site lingers on.
London's ten busiest tube stations (2011) 1) Waterloo (84.1m)2) Victoria (82.3m)3) King's Cross St Pancras (77.11m)4) Oxford Circus (77.1m)5) ↑1 London Bridge (65.4m)6) ↓1 Liverpool Street (63.4m)7) ↑* Stratford (48.6m)8) Bank/Monument (47.8m)9) Canary Wharf (46.6m)10) ↓3 Paddington (46.5m)
London's ten busiest tube stations that aren't also National Rail stations (2011) 1) Oxford Circus (77.1m)2) Bank/Monument (47.8m)3) Canary Wharf (46.6m)4) Piccadilly Circus (40.6m)5) Leicester Square (38.8m)6) Bond Street (36.0m)7) ↑1 Holborn (32.0m)8) ↑1 Green Park (31.8m)9) ↑1 Hammersmith (District & Piccadilly) (28.9m)10) ↑* Baker Street (27.0m)
London's ten busiest tube stations outside Zone 1 (2011) 1) ↑1 Stratford (48.6m)2) ↓1 Canary Wharf (46.6m)3) Hammersmith (District & Piccadilly) (28.9m)4) Finsbury Park (24.3m)5) ↑1 Brixton (22.5m)6) ↓1 Shepherd's Bush (21.6m)7) Camden Town (21.0m)8) ↑* Highbury & Islington (16.3m)9) Ealing Broadway (16.1m)10) ↓2 North Greenwich (15.7m)
London's ten least busy tube stations (2011) 1) Roding Valley (220000)2) Chigwell (460000)3) ↑1 Grange Hill (490000)4) ↓1 Chesham (620000)5) Theydon Bois (740000)6=) Moor Park (820000)6=) Croxley (820000)8) ↑1 Chorleywood (910000)9) ↓1 Fairlop (920000)10) ↑* North Ealing (940000)
London's ten busiest National Rail stations (2010/11) 1) Waterloo (92m)2) Victoria (74m)3) Liverpool Street (56m)4) London Bridge (52m)5) Charing Cross (37m)6) Euston (34m)7) Paddington (32m)8) King's Cross (26m)9) ↑* St Pancras (22m)10) ↓1 Cannon Street (21m)
London's ten busiest National Rail stations that aren't central London termini (2010/11) 1) East Croydon (20.1m)2) Clapham Junction (19.7m)3) ↑2 Stratford (17.5m)4) ↓1 Vauxhall (16.5m)5) ↓1 Wimbledon (16.2m)6) Putney (9.9m)7) Surbiton (8.3m)8) ↑* Highbury & Islington (7.63m)9) Richmond (7.6m)10) Finsbury Park (7.3m)
The UK's ten busiest National Rail stations that aren't in London (2010/11) 1) ↑1 Glasgow Central (25.0m)2) ↓1 Birmingham New Street (24.7m)3) Leeds (24.5m)4) Manchester Piccadilly (21.3m)5) Edinburgh Waverley (20.0m)6) Glasgow Queen Street (19.7m)7) Liverpool Central (18.0m)8) ↑1 Brighton (14.5m)9) ↓1 Reading (14.4m)10) Gatwick Airport (13.1m)
Whatever you do, don't book a ticket to the Olympic Park with Water Chariots. £95 for a short boat trip isn't sustainable transport, it's daylight robbery.
Water Chariots, you mayremember, are the bespoke canal-based travel service for the London 2012 Games. They have exclusive rights to run passengers up the Lea to the Park, either from Limehouse or from Tottenham Hale. They have an exclusive 15 year licence. They were helped by £300,000 of public money, provided as an investment from British Waterways, the London Thames Gateway Development Corporation and the Olympic Delivery Authority. They hoped to have a fleet of 26 barges, but they've only fitted out 15. And they're charging £95 return for a two mile journey through the backside of Tower Hamlets. No, they are nothaving a laugh.
» from Limehouse to our exclusive entrance at Old Ford Lock: 40 minutes » from Tottenham Hale to Eton Manor Gate (the Park’s Northern entrance): 70 minutes
Olympic Games: Adult - £95 return | Child (Under 18) - £50 return (Price includes a complimentary glass of champagne or soft drink prior to embarkation) Paralympic Games: Adult - £50 return | Child (Under 18) - £25 return (Price includes a complimentary soft drink prior to embarkation)
Oddly enough, this is not what was promised last summer when Water Chariots launched. Their website was very light on detail but did eventually admit that Olympic tickets would cost £20 each way, i.e. £40 return. I know this to be true because I blogged about it at the time, and came to the conclusion that £40 return was unnecessarily eye-watering expensive. Now, suddenly, that price has more than doubled, in a transparently money-grabbing "well, we might as well take them for everything we can get" kind of a way.
Water Chariots' chairman Peter Coleman is unapologetic. He's selling the WC experience as a once in a lifetime day out, hence the glass of fizz and maybe a jazz band along the way. "It'll be a Henley-on-Thames toe-tapping type of day," he says, clearly targeting his services at the cash-rich demographic who think Henley's exclusive regatta is a value day out. Many of these people won't have lowered themselves to visit Poplar or Hackney before, and may not realise that East London's canals aren't quite as picturesque as the Berkshire Thames. For example, most of the journey from Limehouse will be along the Limehouse Cut, which isn't a gorgeousscenicexperience however you dress it up. There's a very pleasant bit through Three Mills, but you could see that for nothing from the towpath, no exclusive boat is required.
Water Chariots are keen to promote their Olympic offering as a guaranteed jam-free service. There'll be no getting crushed on the Central Line with the plebs, nor (for the target audience) the hassle of hiring a taxi and then getting stuck in a queue at the Bow Flyover. Instead passengers will need to travel to Limehouse or to Tottenham Hale to pick up their slow chugging barge. Corporate parties with cash to burn might choose to arrive at Limehouse by high speed water taxi from Westminster (for only £1810 return), while visitors with helicopters will be pleased to hear that a shuttle link is available to the Tottenham Hale departure pontoon. The rest of us non-VIPs will be forced to travel direct to the Park using our free Olympic travelcards, spending nothing but our time.
Tempted to take a trip? Now calculate how early you'll need to turn up. First of all, Water Chariots warn us "Please note LOCOG recommend you arrive at the Olympic Park 2.5 hours before your session time starts." I don't recognise that recommendation, especially when Water Chariots claim to have an exclusive VIP entrance to the Olympic Park at their disposal, but let's assume that it's true. The half-hourly journey from Limehouse takes 40 minutes, and on top of that Water Chariots suggest you arrive 40 minutes early for your scheduled departure "in order to clear security and enjoy your glass of champagne." All of which means that if your Olympic Park session begins at 10am, Water Chariots would like you to turn up at their pontoon two miles away at ten to six in the morning. They are, quite clearly, talking rubbish.
And don't think that your £95 guarantees you special treatment. For security reasons, you can only travel on the boat specified on your timed ticket, and times of departure cannot be changed after you've booked. All passengers' names must be submitted in advance, and there's a £10 surplus charge should you need to amend one. All tickets are 100% non-refundable in all circumstances. If security warnings from government cause the service to be suspended, for example in the case of terrorist threats, no refunds will be given. Lifejackets will be provided, but only if you request them in advance. And these are open-sided boats, so if it rains then protective drop-down canvases will seriously impair your view. This is a boat service with terms and conditions very much favouring the company's bank account and not yours.
Meanwhile, Water Chariots appear to have completely given up on their previously stated ambition of providing pleasure trips along the River Lea outside the Olympic period. These were supposed to begin last summer, but never materialised, and there's no sign of them appearing before or during the Games either. Instead good money has been spent on a water-bus-stop and jetty at Three Mills that looks like it may never be used. After the Games, so we're told, some of the fleet of 15 will be converted into self-hire vessels, not all of them local, and some may run on London's canals "to popular attractions such as London Zoo", because that's where the tourists are. If a scheduled Olympic Park waterbus ever materialises - and I have my doubts - nothing we've so far seen hints that prices aboard will be either appropriate or affordable.
Water Chariots appear to have aimed themselves unashamedly at a wallet-milking audience of VIPs and corporate clients, exploiting the Games as a one-off opportunity to make money. Their 120 return trips a day should rake in considerable profits, potentially millions of pounds over a four week period. You may well be wishing you'd thought of the idea yourself. But as for any lasting legacy hereabouts, don't hold your breath.
You'll be wanting an update, I'm sure, on latest progress towards the construction of the ArabFly Dangleway. In case you've forgotten, that's the cross-river cablecar which'll link a South London private entertainment venue to an East London private exhibition venue. The skyline connection which'll be of far greater interest to tourists than commuters. The sponsored aerial pod-link which the Mayor is part-funding from the public purse. That ArabFly Dangleway. How's it coming on? Nearly complete, since you ask.
It's now a cablecar with cables, indeed has been for a while. But it's also now a cablecar with pods, lots of them, strung out across the Thames like baubles on a Christmas decoration [photo]. They've been testing the system recently, first a little, now a lot, to prepare the Dangleway for opening whenever that might be. Officially the word is "summer", because officially there's absolutely no suggestion it might be running before the Olympics. Unofficially, it'll blatantly be ready before the Olympics, because the cars are already running empty, and because the Dangleway has no other justifiable reason for existence. There's more on the latest round of testing from Ian Visits here. And below.
ArabFly North Greenwich: We have a station. It's still hemmed in behind blue boarding, but the curving two storey building is now built and surfaced. Pods land and halt behind the plastic screening [photo], then slowly edge round to launch off into the air again [photo]. You'll be climbing the stairs to the boarding zone this summer, yes you will, a bit like embarking on a ride at a theme park. That's after your four minute walk from the tube station, or your four minute walk from the nearest bus stop, unless anyone decides to add a new bus stop anywhere closer in the next couple of months. A fair few spectators were standing around this weekend, wandering slightly further from the Dome than any tourist rightly has need, to gawp at the novel sideshow appearing in the sky. A lone bloke with a camera, a Dad with daughters on silver scooters, a couple making their way back to their parked car, all seemed duly impressed. I kept looking for the mountain, because cablecars always feel like they should go up something rather than over, but this is no ordinary engineering structure. And it's all reassuringly unbranded so far, bar the name of the sponsor emblazoned across the slender base of each pod, although I doubt that'll last. [photo]
ArabFly Dangleway: Up it goes, up and swiftly up, to that first gentle rattle over the top of the high tower [video]. It didn't look too bumpy up there, from what I saw, although the pods are small and potential passengers need to expect some swaying during their journey. This being a test run there were plenty of stops and starts, and each stop brought gentle rocking as the momentum in each pod slowly dissipated. If you don't have a head for heights, and especially if you don't think you'd cope with being suspended by a cable in a not entirely stable way, then I'd recommend taking your potential panic attack elsewhere. Dangleway workers must be made of sterner stuff. I watched two orange-clad figures take a ride out in a maintenance gondola, stopping at the North main tower to clamber out and tweak some part of the overhead mechanism. The view from up there must be impressive, so long as you keep your eyes on the river and the middle distance, and definitely not on the industrial wasteland immediately inland. The area on the northern bank of the Thames is especially hideous, which may not be what tourists to London are expecting.
Dangleway fact: When the system's up and running at speed, I observed a new pod emerging from the station every 21 seconds. Dangleway fact: I counted a maximum of 24 pods in the air at any one time, that's 12 in each direction. Dangleway conclusion: 12 visible pods means 13 gaps. If each gap is 21 seconds travel, then it'll take somewhere between 4½ and 5 minutes to cross from one station to the other.
ArabFly Dangleway: Down come the pods, across the DLR, a dual carriageway and a Thai restaurant [photo]. The latter could definitely do with any increased trade the Dangleway might bring - it was nigh empty at the height of lunchtime yesterday, as it's been every time I've passed. Also hoping for a boost will be The Crystal, a brand new visitor attraction sponsored by Siemens and based on (stay awake there) sustainability. Its jagged form is substantially complete, now being fitted out inside, and it too should be ready to receive Olympic visitors in July. Planes from London City Airport scream overhead, ascending fast, but rest assured they're still high enough not to slam catastrophically into the cable as they pass. Time your Dangleway journey right, however, and an oncoming jet could be quite a sight. [photo]
ArabFly Royal Docks: The descending cable runs low across the walkway at the end of the Royal Victoria Dock, slanted at a fairly steep angle for passengers coming in to land [video]. The station's pretty much identical to that at the North Greenwich end, although it's easier here to stare into the machinery around the inner platform [photo]. And there's just as little of interest outside. A hotel or three, a Londis and a brand new Tesco Express, plus blocks of characterless apartments perched above their own private gyms. Turn left and there's a pub, the Tidal Basin Tavern, long since closed and boarded up. Turn right and a six minute walk will take you to the western entrance of the ExCel exhibition centre. That's walking fast, and that's longer than the cablecar ride across the Thames. Tourists may struggle to find something to do if there's no exhibition on, apart from admire the giant cranes lined up along the wharfside. Or more likely turn back and admire the miniature pods strung out across the dock and river, before forking out again for the return journey [photo]. You'll be doing just that within the next couple of months, I'll bet. But whether or not you'll come again a second time, that'll be the key measure of the Dangleway's success.
The last time London introduced a cable-related means of public transport, it didn't last. Trolleybuses first appeared in 1931 as a replacement for trams, their overhead connectors offering better manoeuvrability than rails. Soon London had the largest trolleybus network in the world... but it didn't last. A decision was made to replace trolleybuses with go-anywhere diesel vehicles, many of them Routemasters, and wires strung above our roads gradually disappeared. The very last London trolleybus ran on Tuesday 8th May 1962, from Wimbledon to Fulwell via Raynes Park, Kingston and Hampton Court. That'll be 50 years ago this week, which was the cue for a celebratory event yesterday at the bus garage where that last journey ended. A little event for London, but a big event in Fulwell.
Trolleybus 50, it was called. Any excuse for bus lovers to come and stare, and ogle, and take photos, and generally immerse themselves in all things omnibus. Normally it's part of the parking area in front of the bus garage, but yesterday a dozen vehicles were lined up around a small quadrangle, including that very final very last trolleybus [photo]. There's still a sign in the back window reading "THE END", and a medallion of the Queen hanging from the front window of the top deck. You could climb aboard and, if you were patient enough to wait, climb the back stairs to the upper seats for that true trolleybus experience [photo]. Alongside was London's very first trolleybus, affectionately known as a Diddler, which also made a commemorative run on that last day in May 1962. Completing the trio was a rare post-war trolleybus, complete with adverts for Co-Op 99 tea, its red and black paintwork polished and gleaming. [photo]
It was busy, this event, busier than you'd expect. Several locals had turned up, but the place was especially packed with People Who Like Buses. They're a hardy breed, many not a little obsessed, and will travel anywhere if there's a chance of a heritage vehicle to stroke. They're not averse to standing around in pairs discussing route discrepancies ("yes, the 108B terminated just before the Blackwall Tunnel") or, more likely, praising one model over another ("I do like the RM, don't get me wrong, but for me it doesn't have the smooth lines of the RT"). They tend to be older, and are almost invariably men, but younger bus-spotters are continually rising slowly in the ranks. And they were clearly annoying one another yesterday, entirely unintentionally, by standing in front of the various vehicles and blocking clear line of sights. Gentlemen with cameras stood patiently, and not quite so patiently, waiting for close-up starers and casual passers-by to get out of their bloody camera shots thank you. You wait months to see these lovely buses, and then you can't quite capture them for posterity because too many other folk have come to mingle too.
There were other vehicles to see too, not just trolleybuses [photo]. A couple of single deckers - an old red RF and Cobham Bus Museum's Leyland Tiger - drew admiring glances. Plus awholerow of double deckers, one of which was a green London Country RML, just like used to roll past my house when I was very small, which caused a pang of mild nostalgia [photo]. Another bus was available for actual rides - a short hop up the road to Hampton Hill [photo]. Proper enthusiasts could buy books and photos of buses, oh so very many photos of buses, or even walk away with a genuine SW London bus blind for only a fiver. I'm sure many a wife exclaimed "What the hell have you bought that for? It's not going up in here!" when their bus obsessed husbands arrived home. But let's not overlook the event's mainstream accessibility. Nicholas Owen the newsreader came along to open proceedings, and there was even an outside broadcast from the DJs at Epsom Hospital Radio. You'd have enjoyed it, unless you'd have absolutely hated it, and you'll know which. All hail to the trolleybus, once workhorse of our streets, now a minor object of worship down Fulwell way. Other people's photos:Alan, wirewiping, Peter, Hoosier Sands, Debster!
It's National Mills Weekend this weekend, the annual second weekend in May when many of the nation's windmills and watermills fling their doors open to the public. If you're bored with nowhere to go today, maybe there's one near you. I thought I'd try my luck at Brixton Windmill, recently restored to full working order. I tried on National Mills Weekend last year, only to be told by a volunteer that there were unexpected building repairs to be made and the place was shut. Good news this year, no hitches... and, by the looks of it, no queues. Perhaps that's not surprising, given that Brixton Windmill's well off the beaten track in a small park behind the prison, and pretty much invisible from any major local thoroughfare. There was nobody buying plants or postcards from the lovely ladies on the Friends stall, just a woman by the mill door wielding the signing-in book. Guided tours only she said, so come back in about fifteen minutes, and go and buy some tea and cakes while you're waiting. I came back and joined the next group, only to be told by the same woman in a not entirely smiley manner to go back outside again because only five people per tour were allowed. Could I come back in about fifteen minutes, and go and buy some tea and cakes while I was waiting? I sort of lost interest at this point and gave up, despite the kindnesses of some of the other volunteers, but you might well have more luck. The trick it seems is to book a tour online in advance, because that way you get to climb the ladders righttothetop of the windmill in a very small select group. Turning up on spec only gets you to the first floor, if you're lucky, and you don't mind having tea and cakes while you wait. I doubt I'll be waiting again.
I wasn't blogging ten years ago. There wasn't any Twitter either. But what if I had been? Here's what you missed.
Wow! The view from the top of the Empire State Building is amazing, but there's something missing downtown. Off to the big hole later. posted by diamondgeezer [11:45 AM May 1st, 2002]
Friday, May 03, 2002
Just back from the opening night of Spiderman! We saw it at Loew's Theatre on 42nd Street, on opening night, in the very city in which much of the movie was filmed. They gave us a questionnaire to fill in, and a free pencil, and I had nothing but good things to say afterwards. On the way home we took the Roosevelt Tramway, just like in the movie, but didn't end up dangling over the water being rescued by a superhero in spandex. Earlier on we did the Guggenheim, second time lucky after discovering it's closed on Thursdays, and had a pink lemonade in Central Park. I've taken lots of photos today. I'm using my cutting edge digital camera, which is nearly full but I can't download anything until I get back to London. Shame I'll lose all my photos in that hard drive blue screen of death in a few years time, but who needs visual memories anyway?
The plane's half empty but I still didn't get a window seat. Nearly managed 1hr sleep, but got woken by turbulence. Breakfast over Ireland. posted by diamondgeezer [05:30 AM May 5th, 2002]
Yay, Arsenal beat Manchester United to take the Cup and League double. It's par for the course, obviously. posted by diamondgeezer [10:03 PM May 8th, 2002]
Sunday, May 12, 2002
I hate barbecues. I hate them especially when I'm there at the start, at the time everyone was supposed to arrive, but nobody has. I got to help out moving the plastic furniture, because someone rightly worked out I'd be a liability at the grill. Then the briquettes ran out, which slowed down the cooking, and there was a lot of standing around nibbling crisps with people I don't know. Someone brought a German Shepherd puppy, which was interminably frisky, and far more interested in being sociable than I was. Eventually I risked a hotdog, but thought better of the charred chicken because I can't afford not to go to work tomorrow. At least there was a good view sat up the end of the garden by the summerhouse, looking down over Brighton and the Channel. Couldn't wait to get away. I hate barbecues.
Unimpressed by Attack of the Clones. A long love story with too many air chases and too little plot. But blessedly little Jar Jar. posted by diamondgeezer [09:47 PM May 16th, 2002]
I just signed up for this broadband thing. It had better be good. posted by diamondgeezer [07:10 PM May 23rd, 2002]
Friday, May 31, 2002
I took the day off specially. Sometime between eight and six, they said, but they couldn't be more specific than that. So I got up at the usual time, sneaked out to buy a paper before I didn't dare leave the house again, and waited. I'd finished reading it by nine, and nothing doing yet. If only I had a displacement activity, you know, maybe one of these new-fangled blog things, maybe that could have kept me busy. There was mild excitement when the doorbell went, but it was only the postman with something he didn't think I'd be in to sign for. At least I was around to watch the opening of the World Cup, although the opening ceremony was nauseating, and South Korea/Japan wasn't exactly a thriller to kick off with. By four I'd rung the depot to check my delivery was on the lorry, and it was, so I waited some more. Tidied a bit. Stuck the washing on. Paced up and down. And nothing. So at just before six I rang the depot again, only to get a recorded message saying they were now closed until Wednesday. Bloody Jubilee weekend, innit? I hope we never get another one.
Lynne is the first evictee from Big Brother 3, so Jade survives! posted by diamondgeezer [10:25 PM May 31st, 2002]
Maybe it's just as well I waited, and you missed out.
PR folk continue to send me PR emails asking if I'll join their PR bandwagon and promote their PR agenda. And I continue to turn them down, because I never do that sort of thing. Here are some of the choicer pleadings I've wilfully turned down recently.
Rebecca fired off an email last month offering me £50 worth of free taxi rides if I was willing to review her London taxi app. I wasn't willing, as you'll have noticed, and politely told her so. Ignorant of my response, her colleague Joan decided to introduce herself last week. Here's her request, which is an almost perfect misfire on every level.
Hi! Nice to meet you! I believe the follow-up to your “Random Borough” project should have something to do with food or drink... Maybe ordering “a random drink” at different bars, or going to a random restaurant each time and ordering the same dish (shepherd's pie!). The foodies of the world (including me) will definitely appreciate it! I thought you’d also like the idea of free transportation for your next adventures in London :) I work at <London taxi app> -- a black cab ordering app, and we’re giving away cab rides to some of the best bloggers and journalists in London. We’d love to know what you think and maybe your readers would too.
I had to point out to Joan that a) I'm not a foodie, b) I don't have a smartphone, c) I never travel by taxi and d) I never promote stuff. Also, surely one "No thanks" email should be enough? Joan's promised never to contact me again. I live in hope.
Richard had also failed on a previous attempt to attract my attention, so he tried the direct approach.
PROMOTE THIS YOU "BLOGGER" <http://artpromotionthing.com/art-london-app-features.html>
The direct approach proved EQUALLY UNSUCCESSFUL.
Jorge missed the point.
I know you don't want marketing emails. Does this include informative editorial requests? I want some coverage on Bishopsgate and the financial quarter. If it's appropriate, can we discuss?
No Jorge, we so couldn't.
Sarah was entirely mistaken.
Good to chat to you just now and as explained, delivery diet brand, <Diet Brand>, has uncovered some shocking truths about British snacking behaviour - not least that more than one in ten of us (12%) would rather snack than have sex.
I had to point out to Sarah that we hadn't chatted just now, because I'd have told here where to stick her entirely pointless survey. "Apologies", she said, but "predictive email struck and meant to send it to someone else." A bit worrying that, I thought, given that we'd never exchanged emails before.
Another Sarah contacted me with a potentially amazing offer.
Hey Diamond Geezer, We really like your website and presentation style, we thought you may be interested in this opportunity as you have been covering the Olympics... <Top Olympic Sponsor> is looking for a talented blogger to send to the London 2012 Olympics, and to report on the Games in your own unique style. It's an all-expenses-paid trip. We think you'd be a great candidate.
Oddly enough, an all-expenses trip to London didn't excite me as much as Sarah hoped. And she wasn't offering me the job, she was merely pointing out auditions for the first round of a global competition. But I don't do video blogs, Sarah, I write stuff. And my new <Top Olympic Sponsor> camera is so <expletive deleted> that I have zero brand love for your company. You're better off without me, and I'm better off without you.
Finally, here's a novel approach I hadn't seen before. Victoria tweeted me last week with the offer of a free ticket to a black tie royal gala dinner!
This is for an Olympic fund raiser taking place tonight at the Royal Albert Hall, in support our top Team GB athletes. It features performers such as <boy-band member> and <former Spice Girl>, in the presence of <balding young prince> and <his radiant wife>. Most attendees had to shell out well over £100 for a ticket, whereas I can have one for nothing, apparently, so long as I brush up nicely and write kind things. I have absolutely no intention of going, because I have principles and it all sounds socially hideous. But you might have no such scruples. It strikes me that Victoria has no idea what I look like, so if one of you went in my place she'd be none the wiser. Would you like to attend this tonight? DM me your number and I'll get you on the list :)
And to any other PR folk out there, the usual message. Please, you're wasting your time, so don't bother.
Getting to the Olympic Park: Once you exit Stratford station, you'll be in no doubt as to where the Olympic Park is. Not only are there giant pink signs, but there are also several human beings specially hired to point the way. And they really do point. Everyone's been given an oversized padded foam hand, labelled "Olympic Park", which they wave whenever a potential spectator walks by. As far as I know, nobody's been given a padded foam hand labelled "Station" for the walk back, but the giant pink signs should be perfectly adequate for that too. Over the weekend, it has to be said, the number of human finger pointers was entirely excessive, but I'm sure they'll be rather more useful in the summer.
Security: You won't believe how incredibly friendly Olympic Security is. Normally, at airports, security gates are operated by dour disciplinarians and joyless bastards. Not here. Everyone smiled, everyone was pleasant, and almost everyone said Hello. It was lovely the first couple of times, then slightly disconcerting, and eventually just a little bit forced. Still, it was far better than the grumpy guilt-assumed alternative. Spectators for Tuesday's event had been asked to arrive with at least 90 minutes to spare, which seemed like complete overkill when I breezed up to the scanning zone facing no queue whatsoever. My bag spent longer in the X-ray scanner than I was expecting, possibly because the guard was checking the water bottle I'd brought didn't breach regulations, or possibly because I'd dared to smuggle a non-Cadbury's chocolate snack inside. That's perfectly acceptable, and I was waved straight in. However I can confirm that wearing a "Dow Chemicals Poisoning The Olympic Games" t-shirt wipes the smiles away and gets you instantly chucked out, so don't even try.
Inside the Park: It's big, the Olympic Park, well over a mile from top to bottom, so do factor in a long walk if you're attending an event at the far end. No such trouble on Tuesday, just the fairly brief walk across two bridges to the Stadium. From the first bridge, over the Waterworks River, there was a fine view of the Water Polo Arena sloping gently down above a row of fibreglass crayons. Then past the nose of the Aquatic Centre - still not looking as impressive as it might with those two grandstand seating wings attached. And over bridge two, across the City Mill River, another long view up the spine of the park. The greenery's a little bit formal, a little bit new, and definitely not the unkempt waterside that used to be here five years ago. And yes, at the far end, that arena-sized brown prefab is indeed the largest McDonalds in Europe. Blimey. It's not open yet, but when it is you'll be able to drop inside for all the usual stuff you can buy at a high street McDonalds only masses more of it. Don't worry, there'll be plenty of alternative eating options throughout the Park (but nobody else is allowed to serve burgers).
The Orbit: It's tall, isn't it, the Great Red Coiltrumpet, especially when you're almost underneath. The lift'll head straight up the central core, which looks very open, except when shielded by the helter skelter stairs down. It looks like you'll be able to see inside the Olympic Stadium from the double decker observation deck at the top, but don't quote me on that if I've misjudged. The base of the Orbit is still inaccessible at the moment, and will be until the start of the Games, but tickets go on sale at the end of the month for Olympic Park ticketholders. Will the view, and the 30 minute trip, be worth £15? I'll tell you in July.
Stadium Island: To cross onto the concrete ring around the stadium requires passing through another ticket check. Once you're through, you then have the whole of the circuit at your disposal. Around the edge are a ring of slanting prefabs, most acting as vending units, some as toilets. None of the food units are branded, only McDonalds are allowed to do that, and so are given bland descriptive names instead - "Pan-Asian" "Bar" "Taste of India" "Sweet Treats" etc etc. The crowd on Tuesday was small, so we had only two choices - "Coffee" and "Jacket Potato". This taxed many spectators who'd not thought to bring food of their own (perfectly legal), because the only hot option was a £5+ spud in a box with some salad. The choice'll be much better, if not cheaper, in the summer. Meanwhile, over at the coffee booth, there was a special offer for anyone paying with a Visa contactless card. Wave your plastic in exchange for a £2.60 muffin, or whatever, and you got a special voucher for a free gift. Take that voucher to "Visa Customer Services" nextdoor and it was exchanged for... roll of drums... a branded bag-for-life featuring a London 2012 skyline. Inside the bag, in a supreme act of pointlessness, was a leaflet suggesting you might want to get a Visa contactless card, despite the fact you must already have one. That and a chocolate Wenlock on a stick, such is the generosity of the Games' corporate sponsors.
The Olympic Stadium: It looks like any other stadium when you're walking around the edge - a very long perimeter beneath towering grandstands. Like any other stadium except there are no gates - the rivers around the arena act as the necessary security barrier - so you can wander pretty much at will. Dotted round the edge are several toilet blocks, emblazoned with bold graphic identities, and all sustainably temporary too. Ladies, rejoice, because someone's recognised your facilities take up more space than the gents, so there are two female blocks for every male. I can only tell you about the gents, however, where there are 30-ish urinals, eight hand-washing taps and only two driers, so expect either queues or poor hygiene. The exterior of the stadium is zoned by colour, to help you remember where your seat is. You might for example navigate via the yellow toilets, or aim for the red stairs - it's simple, but extremely effective, and translucently pretty too. The media have their own entrance aligned with the finishing line, where a separate (and ugly) staircase also allows entry to anyone with a corporate box. The rest of us mere ticketholders get to walk through the rim of the stadium and then up or down stairs to our seats, ready for the action to begin. And, sorry, you non ticket-holders, you don't get to do any of this at all. Enjoy front of house on the telly, but backstage'll have to remain a mystery.
Many people were gutted when they failed to get tickets to the 100m finals at the Olympic Stadium. Losers. Yesterday I got to watch not one but ten different 100m finals at the Olympic Stadium. What's more, I only had to pay a fiver for the privilege. These London Prepares test events, seriously, they're sometimes betterthan the real thing.
Yesterday's test event was the London Disability Athletics Challenge - a name dreamt up because they couldn't say "Paralympics" because it wasn't. Athletes with a variety of disabilities turned up, or indeed didn't, because there were a lot of no-shows during the day. It was billed as an international event, and included sizeable contingents from the Netherlands, Canada and Brazil, although the majority of athletes appeared to be British. Even so, we occasionally demonstrated a tendency to get thrashed, as for example in one women's race where Finland finished first and we filled all the remaining eight places.
You couldn't fail to be impressed by the perseverance, skill and stamina of the athletes. The wheelchair racers in their low-slung chariots, hands spinning, careering forward. The amputees running, not bouncing, on carbon fibre springy limbs. The visually impaired athletes paired off with guide runners who helped keep them in the correct lane, even when it curved round a bend. And then the athletes with no visible disability, but who must have had something, except it wasn't possible to tell. All the races are described by a category, for example T12, T44 or F32-34. Nobody in the commentary box explained what these meant, and nowhere in the programme or fixture list were the codes explained, so were were left to concentrate on each athlete's ability, rather than their disability.
The crowd were well up for supporting everyone who participated. One of the Olympic sponsors, a well known credit card company, had kindly given every spectator a free concertina of cardboard on the way in. This "Clap-Banner" could be used in lieu of applause, if moving your palms together was too much effort, which for many it seems it was. The thwacking started as athletes powered by, and the noise resembled a forest of artificial chirping insects. Alas not a terribly loud noise, not when there's an entire stadium to fill and only two thousand spectators present.
One of the joys of a 3% capacity audience was the opportunity to sit in whatever seat you wanted. Large sections were roped off, obviously, but there was still significant scope to take a front row seat, or shift under cover when it rained, or go and sit on the opposite side of the stadium to see what things looked like from there. One of the best areas was block 156, square on to the 100m start at trackside, although it was impossible to see who was winning once a race had begun. Block 140 was ideal for watching the longjump, if nothing much else. Blocks 102-115 gave a great overview of the home straight, closer than the row of corporate boxes strung out on the mezzanine above, although the curve of the stadium still left you at some distance from the action. It was even possible to stand in the ring of disabled spectator spaces, assuming they weren't already occupied, without getting moved on by a grumbling attendant. That won't happen again.
You had to feel sorry the athletes taking part in the discus or the seated shot put. They were having a great time chucking stuff and competing for points, but none of us were watching. The announcer kept referring to their latest ranking, as and when appropriate, but we were all fixated on the track. At least the shot-putters got their moment in the limelight when they were selected as one of three events to simulate a medal ceremony. Special music played and out they processed in their wheelchairs to line up behind the special step-free podium. As their names were called they propelled themselves up the ramp to have their prize presented... but no, it wasn't a medal. Instead each winning participant received a cuddly Mandeville mascot (available in John Lewis in Westfield for £19.99), and very pleased they looked too. Each ceremony then played out with the appropriate national anthem, with God Save The Queen being heard just the once. I can reassure you that, at a Disability Athletics event, not everybody stands.
An army ofvolunteers kept everything ticking over, a significant number of whom appeared to be either about 20 years old or about 60. In they trooped at the start of each event, like clockwork, because that's how it has to be. If the starting blocks needed to be moved, two volunteers per block lined up and simultaneously moved them. A line of youngsters brought in one plastic box per competitor, for the offloading of gear, then calmly marched out again. Each set of athletes was led in behind a lady carrying a placard above her head ("Women's T36 200m final", or whatever), to ensure that everyone ended up at precisely the right point in the stadium as and when. If the test event was testing the organisation, the organisation was only rarely found wanting.
Six hours of events, we got, which was damned good value in such an iconic location. Only one of the Athletics events in the summer will last that long, with most stadium spectators in their seats for less than half that. We got to experience overcast chill and rain, but also sunshine. We watched 50 different events, including those ten different categories of 100m finals I mentioned at the beginning. We saw three world records broken (one by the athlete who came third, which seems perverse, but that's how categories of disability work). We marvelled at the non-able-bodied doing things better than we able-bodied folk could manage. And the friend I went with only fell asleep once.
When Paralympic tickets go back on sale on 21st May, maybe you should consider grabbing some. It's not the headline act this summer, that's for sure, but you'll get to see world class sport all the same. Plus, if you're still cursing loudly at missing out on stadium or 100m finals tickets, your passport to the Olympic Park may be cheaper than you think.
Olympic update
Part of me is very pleasantly surprised that they kept the Greenway open for so long. It runs right through the heart of the Olympic Park, with long-term building sites on either side, and yet some kind soul decided that the public would be permitted to retain access. Initially there were security guards with dogs posted here, then they threw up high metal fences and left electronic sentinels to do their job. At first the public barely came, just those of us who live round here and people cycling through. It took a cafe and observation deck in a stack of lime green containers to draw the wider population in [photo]. But by the end, on a typical weekend afternoon, you could barely move for inquisitive souls and tour parties corralled by Blue Badge Guides. A crowd by the map board, several families slurping drinks, even the occasional purchase at the London 2012 shop. Not any more.
The mute security guards are still there at the bottom of that ramp. They've shifted position a few times over the years as the main road into the Olympic Park has been rerouted, but remain ever alert in case some Greenway pedestrian might veer off the zebra crossing and sneak into the park. Closing down the path tomorrow means the guards can finally leave their stations and go protect something more important instead. The new perimeter gate is already up and ready, a few feet to the north of the railway, and a favoured spot for rats from what I saw last night.
On an iPad, seemingly, no problem. I stuck diamondgeezer.blogspot.com into a iPad simulator and it looks fine, even quite swish, with all the greys and blacks and indigos blending well. But on an iPhone, if these emulators are anything to go by, it's not so hot. My dark grey sidebar's only 180 pixels wide, which is nothing on a normal screen, but on a thin mobile screen it's much too over-dominant. There's not enough space to the left for the main text, so far as I can see, which then becomes much too titchy to easily read. Or maybe I have a scrolling problem. Using this emulator the text comes up full size but runs straight off the edge, back and forth, which you'd need the patience of a saint to coherently read. In the upcoming futureworld of mobile browsing, it seems, my blog is several different types of unreadable. Sorry.
London's ten least busy tube stations (2011)
London's ten least busy National Rail stations (2010/11)
Whatever you do, don't book a ticket to the Olympic Park with Water Chariots.
Tempted to take a trip? Now calculate how early you'll need to turn up. First of all, Water Chariots warn us "Please note LOCOG recommend you arrive at the Olympic Park 2.5 hours before your session time starts." I don't recognise that recommendation, especially when Water Chariots claim to have an exclusive VIP entrance to the Olympic Park at their disposal, but let's assume that it's true. The half-hourly journey from Limehouse takes 40 minutes, and on top of that Water Chariots suggest you arrive 40 minutes early for your scheduled departure "in order to clear security and enjoy your glass of champagne." All of which means that if your Olympic Park session begins at 10am, Water Chariots would like you to turn up at their pontoon two miles away at ten to six in the morning. They are, quite clearly, talking rubbish.
ArabFly Dangleway: Up it goes, up and swiftly up, to that first gentle rattle over the top of the high tower [video]. It didn't look too bumpy up there, from what I saw, although the pods are small and potential passengers need to expect some swaying during their journey. This being a test run there were plenty of stops and starts, and each stop brought gentle rocking as the momentum in each pod slowly dissipated. If you don't have a head for heights, and especially if you don't think you'd cope with being suspended by a cable in a not entirely stable way, then I'd recommend taking your potential panic attack elsewhere. Dangleway workers must be made of sterner stuff. I watched two orange-clad figures take a ride out in a maintenance gondola, stopping at the North main tower to clamber out and tweak some part of the overhead mechanism. The view from up there must be impressive, so long as you keep your eyes on the river and the middle distance, and definitely not on the industrial wasteland immediately inland. The area on the northern bank of the Thames is especially hideous, which may not be what tourists to London are expecting.
ArabFly Dangleway: Down come the pods, across the DLR, a dual carriageway and a Thai restaurant [photo]. The latter could definitely do with any increased trade the Dangleway might bring - it was nigh empty at the height of lunchtime yesterday, as it's been every time I've passed. Also hoping for a boost will be The Crystal, a brand new visitor attraction sponsored by Siemens and based on (stay awake there) sustainability. Its jagged form is substantially complete, now being fitted out inside, and it too should be ready to receive Olympic visitors in July. Planes from London City Airport scream overhead, ascending fast, but rest assured they're still high enough not to slam catastrophically into the cable as they pass. Time your Dangleway journey right, however, and an oncoming jet could be quite a sight. [photo]
Trolleybus 50, it was called. Any excuse for bus lovers to come and stare, and ogle, and take photos, and generally immerse themselves in all things omnibus. Normally it's part of the parking area in front of the bus garage, but yesterday a dozen vehicles were lined up around a small quadrangle, including that very final very last trolleybus [photo]. There's still a sign in the back window reading "THE END", and a medallion of the Queen hanging from the front window of the top deck. You could climb aboard and, if you were patient enough to wait, climb the back stairs to the upper seats for that true trolleybus experience [photo]. Alongside was London's very first trolleybus, affectionately known as a Diddler, which also made a commemorative run on that last day in May 1962. Completing the trio was a rare post-war trolleybus, complete with adverts for Co-Op 99 tea, its red and black paintwork polished and gleaming. [photo]
It's National Mills Weekend this weekend, the annual second weekend in May when many of the nation's windmills and watermills fling their doors open to the public. If you're bored with nowhere to go today, maybe there's one near you. I thought I'd try my luck at Brixton Windmill, recently restored to full working order. I tried on National Mills Weekend last year, only to be told by a volunteer that there were unexpected building repairs to be made and the place was shut. Good news this year, no hitches... and, by the looks of it, no queues. Perhaps that's not surprising, given that Brixton Windmill's well off the beaten track in a small park behind the prison, and pretty much invisible from any major local thoroughfare. There was nobody buying plants or postcards from the lovely ladies on the Friends stall, just a woman by the mill door wielding the signing-in book. Guided tours only she said, so come back in about fifteen minutes, and go and buy some tea and cakes while you're waiting. I came back and joined the next group, only to be told by the same woman in a not entirely smiley manner to go back outside again because only five people per tour were allowed. Could I come back in about fifteen minutes, and go and buy some tea and cakes while I was waiting? I sort of lost interest at this point and gave up, despite the kindnesses of some of the other volunteers, but you might well have more luck. The trick it seems is to book a tour online in advance, because that way you get to climb the ladders right to the top of the windmill in a very small select group. Turning up on spec only gets you to the first floor, if you're lucky, and you don't mind having tea and cakes while you wait. I doubt I'll be waiting again.
Getting to the Olympic Park: Once you exit Stratford station, you'll be in no doubt as to where the Olympic Park is. Not only are there giant pink signs, but there are also several human beings specially hired to point the way. And they really do point. Everyone's been given an oversized padded foam hand, labelled "Olympic Park", which they wave whenever a potential spectator walks by. As far as I know, nobody's been given a padded foam hand labelled "Station" for the walk back, but the giant pink signs should be perfectly adequate for that too. Over the weekend, it has to be said, the number of human finger pointers was entirely excessive, but I'm sure they'll be rather more useful in the summer.
Inside the Park: It's big, the Olympic Park, well over a mile from top to bottom, so do factor in a long walk if you're attending an event at the far end. No such trouble on Tuesday, just the fairly brief walk across two bridges to the Stadium. From the first bridge, over the Waterworks River, there was a fine view of the Water Polo Arena sloping gently down above a row of fibreglass crayons. Then past the nose of the Aquatic Centre - still not looking as impressive as it might with those two grandstand seating wings attached. And over bridge two, across the City Mill River, another long view up the spine of the park. The greenery's a little bit formal, a little bit new, and definitely not the unkempt waterside that used to be here five years ago. And yes, at the far end, that arena-sized brown prefab is indeed the largest McDonalds in Europe. Blimey. It's not open yet, but when it is you'll be able to drop inside for all the usual stuff you can buy at a high street McDonalds only masses more of it. Don't worry, there'll be plenty of alternative eating options throughout the Park (but nobody else is allowed to serve burgers).
Stadium Island: To cross onto the concrete ring around the stadium requires passing through another ticket check. Once you're through, you then have the whole of the circuit at your disposal. Around the edge are a ring of slanting prefabs, most acting as vending units, some as toilets. None of the food units are branded, only McDonalds are allowed to do that, and so are given bland descriptive names instead - "Pan-Asian" "Bar" "Taste of India" "Sweet Treats" etc etc. The crowd on Tuesday was small, so we had only two choices - "Coffee" and "Jacket Potato". This taxed many spectators who'd not thought to bring food of their own (perfectly legal), because the only hot option was a £5+ spud in a box with some salad. The choice'll be much better, if not cheaper, in the summer. Meanwhile, over at the coffee booth, there was a special offer for anyone paying with a Visa contactless card. Wave your plastic in exchange for a £2.60 muffin, or whatever, and you got a special voucher for a free gift. Take that voucher to "Visa Customer Services" nextdoor and it was exchanged for... roll of drums... a branded bag-for-life featuring a London 2012 skyline. Inside the bag, in a supreme act of pointlessness, was a leaflet suggesting you might want to get a Visa contactless card, despite the fact you must already have one. That and a chocolate Wenlock on a stick, such is the generosity of the Games' corporate sponsors.
You couldn't fail to be impressed by the perseverance, skill and stamina of the athletes. The wheelchair racers in their low-slung chariots, hands spinning, careering forward. The amputees running, not bouncing, on carbon fibre springy limbs. The visually impaired athletes paired off with guide runners who helped keep them in the correct lane, even when it curved round a bend. And then the athletes with no visible disability, but who must have had something, except it wasn't possible to tell. All the races are described by a category, for example T12, T44 or F32-34. Nobody in the commentary box explained what these meant, and nowhere in the programme or fixture list were the codes explained, so were were left to concentrate on each athlete's ability, rather than their disability.
One of the joys of a 3% capacity audience was the opportunity to sit in whatever seat you wanted. Large sections were roped off, obviously, but there was still significant scope to take a front row seat, or shift under cover when it rained, or go and sit on the opposite side of the stadium to see what things looked like from there. One of the best areas was block 156, square on to the 100m start at trackside, although it was impossible to see who was winning once a race had begun. Block 140 was ideal for watching the long jump, if nothing much else. Blocks 102-115 gave a great overview of the home straight, closer than the row of corporate boxes strung out on the mezzanine above, although the curve of the stadium still left you at some distance from the action. It was even possible to stand in the ring of disabled spectator spaces, assuming they weren't already occupied, without getting moved on by a grumbling attendant. That won't happen again.
An army of volunteers kept everything ticking over, a significant number of whom appeared to be either about 20 years old or about 60. In they trooped at the start of each event, like clockwork, because that's how it has to be. If the starting blocks needed to be moved, two volunteers per block lined up and simultaneously moved them. A line of youngsters brought in one plastic box per competitor, for the offloading of gear, then calmly marched out again. Each set of athletes was led in behind a lady carrying a placard above her head ("Women's T36 200m final", or whatever), to ensure that everyone ended up at precisely the right point in the stadium as and when. If the test event was testing the organisation, the organisation was only rarely found wanting.
