Day out:Bedford Bedford lies fifty miles north of London, in what used to be Bedfordshire but is now some mishmash of unitary authorities. It flanks the River Ouse, which makes a particularly scenic sweep through the town, and is about as good as it gets pretty-wise. Bedford's not really on the tourist trail, although the local council would like to think it is, and have a fewtreats up their sleeve for you. I visited three at the weekend, which I probably ought to have done when I lived here, except one only opened last month, one used to have an admission price and the other I once thought was too far to walk.
The Higgins Bedford
Towns all across Britain are at it. A newly-created arts/heritage facility with a one word title, probably the name of somebody important like a benefactor, built with the aim of boosting the town in the national psyche. Bedford's opened in June, bringing together the former art gallery and museum in a multi-million pound revamp. This had been the Cecil Higgins Art Gallery, so the new venue is called The Higgins, in honour of the brewing dynasty who left much of their art collection to the town. Several years have been spent knocking things through and sprucing things up, and now the general population are returning to see what's what. Outside is a new cultural quarter named Castle Quay, after the mound of earth which is all that's left of Bedford's medieval fortress. That and a scrap of wall uncovered from beneath a car park, which takes uninspiring pride of place outside a row of mostly empty restaurants. It must have looked a good bet pre-austerity, but The Higgins is the only attractive proposition hereabouts.
Entrance to the galleries is free, and there are a fair few to explore. First up is Settlement, which is the usual parade of historical artefacts from ice age fossils to medieval abbey parts. Nobody's got round to labelling the exhibits yet - it's on the list of things to do - which didn't impress one lady of the shires who was visiting. "Oh I don't like how they've done that, and that's not very clear is it, and ooh what a gorgeous piece of stonework." Adjacent is the art gallery section, which underwhelmed me but only because I was expecting more. Two rooms of local-project-work, plus just one of Pre-Raphaelite masters from the Cecil Higgins archive hung round a semi-gloomy cuboid. Meanwhile upstairs is a substantial gallery self-deprecatingly entitled 'Somewhere in England', that being the town's secret identity when the BBC moved all its music and religious programming here during WW2. Here Bedford's multifarious industries are celebrated, including brickmaking, tractor manufacture, Cardington's airships, Texas Instruments and even Meltis Berry Fruits. As a once-local, I was intrigued.
I can already tell you've switched off, because this is a municipal museum in a provincial town which you have no intent of visiting. But there is a classy section, non-geographically-specific, which might draw you in. For starters the Higgins family's Victorian house has been restored and filled with period furniture and middle class ornaments. A whistlestop tour of 500 years of 'Design' then features some impressive glassware and ceramics across several rooms. Another gallery features the amazing gilded furniture of William Burges, the extravagant Gothic revival designer who lived at TowerHouse in Holland Park (now owned by Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin). And then there's a permanent gallery devoted to Edward Bawden, the much-loved 20th century illustrator who donated his entire archive to the Cecil Higgins when he died. This summer the room hosts an exhibition of his Aesop's Fables ensemble, plus a series of line-drawn newspaper adverts to delight.
John Bunyan Museum
Bedford's most famous son is John Bunyan, the nonconformist preacher the town once locked up for 12 years. His Pilgrim'sProgress used to be the second best selling book in the world until JK Rowling came along, and has never been out of print since 1678. The story is an allegory following Christian's journey via the Slough of Despond to the Celestial City, crammed with characters with transparent names such as Hopeful and Hypocrisy. It's not going to set your Kindle alight, but many still come from all around the world to see the locality Bunyan disguised and made famous. The museum is located just round the back of The Higgins, adjacent to the Bunyan Meeting Free Church. The lady on the front desk seemed either surprised or delighted to see me - I think delighted because the museum was by no means empty. Upstairs a guide tried frantically to wave his hand in front of the motion sensor that would make John's waxwork effigy speak, which was almost eventually worth it. I saw the flute John made from a chair leg to pass the time in prison, and his Civil War sign-up papers, and finally got to follow the plot of his best-selling linear novel. Plenty to see, in not much space, and an illuminating circuit.
Elstow Moot Hall
Bunyan was born in the village of Elstow, a mile and a half south of Bedford town centre. It's not a lovely walk, until the path opens out to a half-timbered high street just before the ring road. Here I bumped into a wedding party waddling along the pavement from the one remaining pub, their nuptials at the free church rather than the 11th century abbey. On the village green is the Moot Hall, which Bedfordshire Council chose to restore for the Festival of Britain in 1951 (its logo remains on the village sign in the High Street). Thistwo-storey building was a 15th century marketplace, and opens these days only for a few hours on summer Saturdays. Downstairs is a Bunyan-packed exhibition space, while upstairs is a wood-beamed vaulted room filled with 17th century furniture. I was the only visitor, I suspect the only visitor all day, and I fear my £3 won't go far. Meanwhile at the tea gardens round the back of the Abbey a dozen sweetly-laid tables sat empty, waiting for non-existent tourists to order milkshakes, lunch and cakes. But then we're not a nation of day-trippers any more, we'd much rather be shopping or poking Facebook or hunting for a coffee. Sure, you won't be coming to visit Elstow and its Moot Hall any time soon. But if we all think like that, will its treasures still be open for future generations to enjoy?
There's not been a cinema in E3 for decades. There's not been a mental hospital in E3 for seven years. But this summer the remains of the latter are transforming into the former, for the benefits of the population at large, courtesy of the St Clement's Social Club. This group of volunteers have taken over St Clement's Hospital on Bow Road during a temporary pause before the site is turned over to redevelopment, and are busy establishing a social venue inside. As of this weekend the front gates are open, the site is free to access and you can come and poke your nose inside. I've been wanting to do that for years. Achievement unlocked.
St Clement's started out as the City of London Union Workhouse in 1849, where those with nothing came to throw themselves upon the mercy of the benefactors. In 1874 it switched to being an infirmary for the assessment of the mental health of inmates at other institutions, and in 1912 a facility for the chronically ill. When the NHS was created it became a psychiatric hospital, and remained so until 2005 when services moved out and everything was boarded up. Normally in such circumstances the end result is bland flats, but events at St Clement's have led down a somewhat unusual path. The site was made London's first Community Land Trust, which means its freehold will be held by the local community rather than guzzled whole by a developer. There'll be considerably moreaffordable housing than usual, some of it newbuild, the rest created within the hospital's existing landmark buildings. But not quite yet, hence one last summer to celebrate.
The St Clement's Social Club are opening up the site for a month, starting this weekend, with aspirations to host a cafe and some gardens. It's going well. Hundreds of volunteers, including a team of bankers shipped in by Barclays, have been busy tidying, clearing and planting. It feels somewhat incongruous to see a wonky NHS sign (pointing to Occupational Therapy, the Specialist Drug Unit and the Mind Advocacy Project) rising from a bed of pot plants. It's no Kew Gardens, and the hot weather's not helped, but the site looks rather less rundown as a result. The 'cafe' is a converted fairground burger van, conversion still underway, but they do already appear to have Meantime beer on tap so priorities first. Alongside, by the planters, the Tower Hamlets Cycling Club have set up a bike workshop, because it's that sort of place. Meanwhile there's a bar at the rear of the site, or more of a window really, dispensing wine, gin & tonic or sangria for £3 (n.b. not always open).
During July's setting-up period, visitors are being allowed free rein to wander around approximately half of the site. Some realise this and have turned up deliberately. Others were passing and discovered the ever-closed gates open, including several bemused children on bikes with a new playground to explore. Yesterday a couple of the main buildings were unlocked and open, including the John Denham block overlooking Mile End Road. Warnings across the site warn that you're here at your own risk, but there is a certain thrill to entering gloomy institutional buildings formerly the realm only of the illegalurbanadventurer. One external wall tells "The Story of St Clement's" in taped-up photos, one of which I recognised because I took it. It's a shot of the front of the hospital illuminated in red to celebrate the launch of the Trust last December, and I assume one of the volunteers nicked it off Flickr. Hello if that was you, you only had to ask, and obviously I'd have absolutely definitely have said yes.
These first few weeks are just a warm-up, until the Shuffle Festival kicks off on August 8th. This is an eleven-day film festival, curated by director and all-round supremo Danny Boyle who just happens to live across the road. He's selected a series of crowd-pleasing films, plus a few of his own, and will be gracing some of the presentations with a personal Q&A. The festival kicks off with Shallow Grave (pretty much sold out, I understand) and continues with sure-fire crowd pleasers like The Long Good Friday and Withnail & I. Trainspotting's on the list, obviously, along with Rosemary's Baby and Attack The Block. Sunday 11th has been given over to films relating to mental illness, appropriately, plus Ruby Wax will be doing a turn. Many of the evenings end up with after parties and DJs, for those who'd like to make a full summer's evening on it. And yes, there's a full screening of Danny's Olympic Opening Ceremony on Tuesday 13th, and that one's free.
There'll be two cinemas on site, or at least two spaces where films will be screened. One's the Wentworth Stanley Hall, formerly the main place of assembly for patients, which was open for wandering yesterday. As for the outdoor cinema, that's still being set up but appears to be a few chairs in a minor courtyard beneath the clocktower facing a white sheet. Tickets are on sale via the festival's website, most for £10 or £15, but a small number of cheaper tickets have been held back for those who can prove they're residents of E3. Keep an eye on Twitter to see when the 'booking desk' is staffed, and nip down in person with proof of address and a fiver. I'll see you there.
Further local event news: Tower Hamlets council is running a Cockney Heritage Festival, on a fairly major scale, from this weekend to next. There are parties and singalongs and guided walks, indeed a lot of stuff aimed at the borough's older residents, as well as film screenings, talks and special events. The Festival peaks in Bow next Saturday with a tea dance at the art gallery, a fair in the church and a procession of Pearlies from the Bow Bells pub. [programme]
Further local development news: Last summer I told you the tale of CodyDock, the last link in the Lea Valley Walk preventing access along the river to Trinity Buoy Wharf. A group of volunteers have been trying to create a community hub and open up the riverbank, but funding has been stubbornly unforthcoming. Now at last the Mayor's Big Green Fund has thrown £240,000 to help kickstart the Lea River Park and "create a new connection between Cody Dock and Canning Town". This is marvellous and well-deserved news (and is potentially even better because that ghastly name, the "Fatwalk", appears nowhere in the press release).
It's Tate Modern that gets all the publicity, but Tate Britain's still there in Pimlico, on the river. You can get there by Victoria line (alight at the station with the pop art spotty yellow tiles) or you can get there by New Bus For London (I made that mistake, sweat dripping down my back on the top deck). Centuries of art are displayed round its walls, more of the classical than the modern strange stuff hung elsewhere. The front entrance is closed for renovation at the moment, so you have to go in via the posh ramp down the side, then back up again to view the main collection. Or fork out to visit the specials, £19 for three, including that fine British painter of the north.
Lowry and the Painting of Modern Life (26 June - 20 October)
Laurence Stephen, the rent collector from Salford, still draws the crowds. They've heard of him, they like his style, and they may even have bought that record about him in 1978. Even midweek they stream in, the cultured pensioner classes, grabbing their opportunity before the rest of the world floods the galleries on Saturday. Shuffle along, there's a lot of Lancashire to see. Lowry's canvases are white and bleak, packed with factories and mills, but with collective human interest. There's usually a crowd doing something - walking to work, heading to the football, watching an eviction, following a hearse, whatever. In one painting the scarlet fever van has turned up to take a child away to isolation hospital... which prompted my Dad to tell me that this had happened to him, except he was one of the minority who came home again. Chimneys belch and steam, with the predominant colours being grey, black and more grey. The one shade entirely absent from Lowry's palette appears to be green, and he doesn't much care for yellow either, which helps to tone these industrial landscapes down a few more notches. Many of his buildings break the rules of perspective, and his matchstalk men aren't exactly biologically accurate, but nobody minds. Actually Brian Sewell hates them, virulently, but you'd expect that, and the assembled hordes seem rather keener. I liked them, but as a representation of industrial hardship with a human edge, not necessarily the spotlight of truth.
Patrick Caulfield (5 June - 1 September)
The Tate have paired up the next two artists, possibly because neither is quite strong enough to flog the tickets alone. Caulfield is a product of the Sixties, and his sign-painter style has a certain attractive simplicity. His scenes are composed of bold blocks of paint, generally delineated by thick black lines. Lampshades are a favourite, and curvy chairs, and dining areas of many kinds in foreign countries - these recur through the years. It's almost comic book, but more competently drawn, with bright colours the exact opposite of what Lowry would have used. In later works Patrick taunts his audience by painting one small aspect of the painting, like a casserole dish or a lakeside window, in uncharacteristic picture-perfection, as if to say I could paint 'properly' but I choose not to. Patrick's sweeping canvases transfer well to postcards and memorabilia in the gift shop, and after you've seen the real thing, you just might.
Gary Hume (5 June - 1 September)
And in the three galleries nextdoor, a rather different proposition. Hume's canon is a little more recent, less geometric, much less precise. He uses sheets of aluminium as his canvas, marking out space with a fibre-tip pen and then smearing the gaps with large patches of gloss paint. His subjects are often hard to discern - it took a glance at the guide book to reveal that one pink panel hid the face of Kate Moss beneath Michael Jackson's nostrils. Round the corner there's a fine blackbird (you can see why that's been picked to appear on much of the merchandise), but the more general abstraction makes this a harder ensemble to love.
In this hot weather, always carry a bottle of water with you.
That's the advice repeatedly broadcast on the Underground as July's heatwave continues.
But it's a bit late to be telling us to carry a bottle of water when we're standing on a platform or boarding a train. There are no bottles of water to be had. Passengers can't suddenly carry a bottle of water if none are available.
So TfL boffins have been busy these last few weeks with a new project to bring soaring temperatures down. They've created a new brand of bottled water, called Underground Water. And they're going to start distributing it at stations today.
Underground Water is a whole new approach to the battle against soaring subterranean temperatures. Now you can carry a bottle of water with you at all times, whether you've remembered to buy one in advance or not. No longer need your tube train* feel like a mobile sauna, because you can guarantee ice cold Underground Water will cool you down. * Underground Water will also be provided for travellers on the New Bus For London. Please note that this is a special promotional offer to support the launch of this great vehicle, and absolutely not an admission that the air cooling system doesn't work and conditions aboard are hell on wheels.
Underground Water will be sold at station ticket offices* across the network. Just go up to the ticket office window and ask the member of staff for a bottle of Underground Water. From this morning they'll have unlimited stocks to supply. * If you're unfortunate enough to be at a station whose ticket office has closed, or is only open for a few hours a day and has now shut, don't worry. Listen out for the "In this hot weather, always carry a bottle of water with you" message being played out over the station loudspeakers. At this precise moment a member of station staff will appear with a tray of bottles of Underground Water and they'll be happy to hand one over. It'll be a bit like the interval at the cinema with the usherette and the ice creams, for those of you old enough to remember this. TfL wants all of its station staff to be more customer-facing, and the launch of Underground Water is an excellent way to ensure that they are.
Each 500ml bottle of Underground Water will cost £1*. * Whilst it would be nice to hand out bottles for free, this is not an acceptable option in a time of austerity. If you want something cheaper, bring your own.
* Oyster pay-as-you-go users will be able to touch in for a bottle at the reduced price of 80p. Emirates Air Line users will be asked to pay £3.20, in line with the existing surcharge for aerial travel.
Underground Water will be available in ten exciting sugar-free vitamin-enhanced flavours, according to which line you are travelling on*. * Please note: all trains on the Metropolitan line are fully air-conditioned, so there is no blackcurrant flavour.
* Please note: all trains on the London Overground are fully air-conditioned, so there is no tangerine flavour.
Stamford Brook: Tropical lime Caledonian Road: Highland spring water Bayswater: Sparkling lemon Chig Well: Spa water with a hint of orange Stock Well: Blueberry and soda Canada Water: With a dash of maple syrup Barbican: Alcohol-free water Cutty Sark: Iced tea London Bridge: Slightly murky with floating bits Waterloo: Bog standard still water
All Underground Water bottles are fully recyclable and should be disposed of in the bins provided. * TfL does not encourage the wanton destruction of our planet through the pointless purchase of bottled water when quite frankly tap water in a reusable canister would cool you down just as much without accruing unnecessary carbon debt.
Londoners, why not grab a bottle of Underground Water on your tube journey today? And as a special introductory offer, all bottles are free today before 12 noon. So don't forget to go up to the ticket office at your local station this morning and ask for a free bottle of Underground Water to keep you cool. Because, in this hot weather, you should always* carry a bottle of Underground Water with you. * While stocks last.
Day out:York York is a historic northern city - handsome, compact and full of tourist-friendly things to do. It's also a very expensive city to enjoy. Most its attractions cost a pretty penny to get inside, with the National Railway Museum an honourable free exception. There is a special sightseeing smartcard, called the York Pass, which permits entry for nothing if you pay up front, but even that's a bit pricey. I got 20% off the one-day cost by travelling to York with Grand Central trains - that's £28.80 rather than £36. But even then I only got my money back* by visiting attractions briskly and by not stopping for a sit-down lunch. Check your wallet is deep enough before you arrive.
York Minster [£10] This great cathedral is second in the Anglican pecking order only to Canterbury, and in terms of size the largest in Northern Europe. Pay nothing and you can get in to see a tiny corner near the cash desk, pay extra and you can add a trip up the tower. Everything's a little loftieror grander or more ancient than your usual cathedral, even the scaffolding currently covering the eastern end. To counter the disappointment of visitors hoping to see the enormous medieval stained glass window, an interactive exhibition has been staged which offers considerably more insight than you'd typically get staring at the designs from afar. It's hard to believe it's 30 years since the south transept was gutted by fire, such is the quality of the workmanship above, and there's also been major restructuring of the foundations below. A new exhibition opened this spring in the crypt, entitled York MinsterRevealed, which greatly increases how much there is to see and enjoy here. The cathedral is built on the site of the Roman garrison at Eboracum, whose stonework can now be seen beneath a glass floor, in a fascinating juxtaposition. This underground display tracks 2000 years of history, with considerable aplomb, but is easily missed if you don't think to walk down the steps near the exit. All this, plus the everyday life of a working cathedral, makes the Minster a must-visit.
Jorvik [£9.75]
Excavations below York's shopping streets in the seventies revealed the presence of the old Viking town buried in damp clay. Starved of oxygen a surprising amount had survived intact, included timbers that'd normally have rotted away and thousands of everyday artefacts. The York Architectural Trust stepped in and created a visitor attraction onsite, or more rightly a "visitor experience", which has been upgraded a few times over the years. You walk down to part of the uncovered site where the edges of wooden buildings, posts and fences can be seen beneath a glass floor. The basement's dimly lit, which makes trying to read the laminated information sheet very difficult, but most visitors just stand around and watch the films instead. And then the ride! You're ushered (but not crammed) into a six-seat car which dangles its way through a recreation of a Viking settlement. Hairy faces smile and wink, children play by the riverside and a rat nibbles on meat outside the butchers. It's immersive and educational, swinging through wooden houses and market streets, while a commentary in the language of your choice belts out from speakers in your headrest. Upon alighting you get to see the uncovered artefacts, or at least some of them, including pots and skeletons and (unusually) some perfectly preserved human faeces. Staff dressed for the part explain the stories behind various exhibits, and the emphasis is always on science, evidence and entertainment. Impressively done.
York Castle Museum [£8.50, or £10 the pair] You'll know this as the museum with an entire Victorian shopping street inside. That street is Kirkgate, and several dozen shopfronts have been created to display the museum's collection of products and wares. In the pharmacists and grocers you can chat to the shopkeeper, in Terry's chocolate shop you can buy sugar mice, and occasionally an audio thunderstorm breaks out with 'rain' splashing the cobbles. This is the best bit of the museum, but there's tons more to see on the sinuous route around two distinct buildings. Some is very Yorkshire-based, but more is about the human experience in cities and villages over the years. I enjoyed the rooms stuffed with period toys, and the prisoners' tales in the old gaol, and especially the The Sixties exhibition (where every visitor of a certain age stopped and smiled and nostalged). Well worth a visit. Yorkshire Museum [£7.50, or £10 the pair]
This is the companion museum to the above, situated in attractive gardens near the Minster. The emphasis is more on history, from Roman times through the city's turbulent medieval past, with exhibits ranging from chunks of stone from abbeys to tiny exquisite goldsmithery. A surprisingly large part of the museum is given over to biology, in particular prehistoric creatures. I learnt a great deal from the displays on Extinction, but I didn't stay long, and I was unconvinced this museum is worth the full entrance fee.
Clifford's Tower [£4.20]
This is a motte and bailey castle, although only the motte remains (the bailey would now appear to be car park). Climb the steep steps up the grassy mound to enter the tower and then, oh, there's not much within is there? Staff keep younger visitors amused by seating them on a throne and crowning them, for the benefit of family photos, but for everyone else the main attraction is the walk round the ramparts. A one-way system operates from the gatehouse, up to an impressive 360° panorama from the top of the walls. The weather being perfect I spotted the Humber Bridge in the distance, as well as the Dales and of course the towers of the Minster closer by. But more a viewpoint than a place to linger.
Fairfax House [£6]
York has a number of fine houses, from the Arts and Crafts home of chocolate magnate Noel Terry to a medieval merchant's hall. That I ended up in this one is purely by chance - I was passing, and it was on the York Pass list. This is a Georgian townhouse, very finely restored after spending several decades as a cinema and then a dance hall. It was built by Viscount Fairfax, a local landowner who hoped it would help springboard his daughter into Yorkshire society. Alas she wasn't really interested, and swiftly moved back to the country, starting two centuries of decline which ended only when the York Civic Trust took over. Their volunteers were the friendliest I met all day, one per room, and each keen to tell the story and to point out the finer features of the furniture collection and decor. A genteel treat.
York's Chocolate Story [£9.50] This is York's newest attraction, launched last year, which aims to tell the story of the city's most important manufactured product. The Rowntrees and the Terrys were two local Quaker families, pioneers in the British chocolate industry, and far ahead of their time in treating their employees fairly and equally. The attraction is part theatre, part hands-on experience, as your tour group is led round two floors of the building by a slightly Wonka-esque guide in an apron. Our guide managed to coax a tour group that was half French schoolkids without losing their attention, which is high praise. Upstairs is the history bit, nicely delivered, with surround cinema, interactive screens and several chocolate samples. And downstairs there's the chance to make your own chocolate lolly, and watch an expert make posh chocolates, and take away both to eat. I was won over by the video wall of Rowntree/Terry TV adverts, where I fervently hope nobody else noticed me singing along to the 1971 classic "Smartie people are happy people" like a brainwashed loon. Nothing especially highbrow, but eighty minutes well spent in the company of (slurp) chocolate.
The National Railway Museum could perhaps be better named. For a start I'd query the Railway bit. There is plenty of stuff other than trains and carriages, but most visitors turn up for the engines, and most of the exhibits are on wheels. And then there's the National bit. Being located in York, a high proportion of the exhibits have an East Coast mainline bent, and there's not so much from further afield. So perhaps the attraction's title should be the LNER Locomotive Museum. They'd still come.
The National Railway Museum has a bit of a special on at the moment. There aren't normally queues snaking out of the front door, and zigzagging outside the entrance, and diverting round the staff car park, and doubling back up a side alley. But then it's not every month they have a big anniversary to celebrate. It's 75 years since Mallard broke the speed record for a steam train, thundering down an incline outside Grantham, and her 126mph peak still stands. Sleek blue Mallard is usually kept here at the NRM, but this July they've brought in her five sistersfor a fortnight to stir the hearts of steamlovers everywhere. That includes one from the US, one from Canada and one nominally from South Africa, briefly back in their spiritual home in Yorkshire.
This 'Mallard 75' event ends today, hence rather a lot of people turned up yesterday. It being midweek, the majority of these were gentlemen who remember the age of steam first time round. Some of their wives came round too (or at least sat on the sidelines and waited patiently, or even brought the dog as an excuse not to be allowed inside the museum). Crowds thronged the turntable area in the Great Hall, their main objective to take a photo with one, two, ideally six of the locomotives in shot. This proved somewhat tricky, given that everyone trying to take a photo kept getting in the way of someone else trying to taking a photo, but still they flocked round. If you were patient you could join a queue to step up to the footplate - Mallard's queue being the longest, obviously, for those who insisted on boarding the genuine article. As for the Mallard simulator, that cost £5 extra, except the virtual reality had broken down yesterday so that wasn't an option.
Elsewhere the locos ranged from a replica Rocket to a Japanese bullet train, the latter providing somewhere cosy to sit down for those who'd had enough of standing. A footbridge runs between nowhere, introduced solely to provide a good elevated view. A model railway lurks in an alcove, and there's a busy cafe at the back where they sell non British Rail sandwiches. I particularly liked the small temporary exhibition on railway catering, entitled Moveable Feast, which featured everything from uniformed silver service to the wrapper of the last microwaved beefburger sold on a GNER train. Did they really once make Inter City 125 Toblerones, and how long is it since high tea (tea, bacon, egg, sausage, tomato, fried potato, buttered toasted tea cake, bread and butter, fruit cake and jam) cost 75p?
In another hall are the royal trains, because Kings and Queens are just like us except they get entire carriages to themselves with beds, telephones and comfy sofas installed. The Flying Scotsman is in a separate shed, being worked on as part of a major rescue and restoration project, and due to be display-worthy in a couple of years' time. The museum's storage warehouse is also open to the public so you can browse through all sorts of railway ephemera from buffet car chairs to nameplates. There are rather a lot of nameplates affixed to the walls, because often this is all that's survived from a once-mighty locomotive. And for the true railway-o-holic there's even an outdoor balcony where you can watch the trains pulling in and out of York station, and check the real-time signalling too. Each to their own.
I confirmed, wandering round, that my main interests lie with the non-train stuff. Give me the bits about infrastructure and organisation every time, rather than a belching funnel or a gleaming engine. And I confirmed yesterday that this puts me in a minority, certainly amongst those who frequent the National Railway Museum, who'd much rather coo and fuss around a locomotive. But at least access to this fine museum remains free of charge, so you can come along and make up your mind for yourself. Or just come and spend the day in full-on worship mode - you'll know if that's you.
The Victoria line was built with interchange in mind. All but one of the 16 stations link to another line, or maybe several, making ease of transfer the priority. But just how long do those connections take? I've worked my way down the line with a stopwatch to find out.
n.b. I only walked these one way (walking the other way might be different). I walked from platform to platform (apart from at mainline termini). I timed from the moment I left one platform to the moment I arrived on the other. I walked to the nearest platform, which may not be the platform you need. I did this experiment off-peak. I always walked down escalators, but never up. I walk quite fast. I am not sad, honest.
Walthamstow Central (Greater Anglia → Victoria) [1m10s] The original route down to the Victoria line is direct from National Rail platform 2 (although now there's another entrance direct from the bus station). Head down the steps, through the ticket barriers and down the escalator. If arriving here by tube, it's quickest to sit at the front of the train.
Blackhorse Road (Overground → Victoria) [1m20s] Up to the cheap-looking footbridge, follow the passage into the ticket hall, then double back and head down the escalator.
Tottenham Hale (Greater Anglia → Victoria) [1m15s] It's dead easy to step up to the ticket hall from the northbound National Rail platform (but a rather longer up and over from the southbound). There's a nice row of plants above the escalators.
Seven Sisters (Victoria → Greater Anglia) [2m30s] To interchange here, best sit at the Brixton end of the train. Exit is via a twisting passage with two-way flow, full of awkward blind spots. Then double back in the ticket hall and follow a straight passage to the National Rail platforms. Think functional, not beautiful.
Finsbury Park (Victoria → Piccadilly) [5s] Fabulously swift passage to parallel platform. Thank you, Victoria line designers. Finsbury Park (Victoria → First Capital Connect) [1m10s] Woo, spiral staircase! 50-or-so steps lead up to a grim passage below the National Rail platforms.
Highbury & Islington (Victoria → Overground) [2m25s] A slower than usual yomp, because they're refurbishing an escalator at the moment, but it's never quick. A lot of up and down is involved. Highbury & Islington (Victoria → First Capital Connect) [5s] A simple short passage across to the gloomy Moorgate-bound platform.
King's Cross St Pancras Sorry, but this is indeed as complex as you're expecting... (Victoria → Piccadilly) [50s] Don't follow the signs! Take the sneaky staircase accessed from the 'Euston Road' end of the platform. (Victoria → Northern) [1m5s] Ditto. (Circle → Victoria) [1m50s] Not such a bad journey, via the original main escalator link. (Victoria → King's Cross mainline) [4m] That's four minutes if you follow the signs, and trek the evil long route via the new passages and the Northern ticket hall. Worst interchange on the entire list... (Victoria → St Pancras High Speed) [6m] ...apart from this, which is worse... (Victoria → Other St Pancras services) [8m] ...and this, which is godawful. This proves that either a) only mugs follow the official signs or b) St Pancras really is a very long way from the Victoria line.
Euston (Victoria → Northern) [15s] So long as you want the southbound via Bank, dead quick. Not so quick otherwise. Euston (Victoria → Mainline services) [3m] That's from the bowels of the station to the main concourse, probably battling behind lots of slow people with suitcases.
Warren Street (Northern → Victoria) [1m30s] This is the interchange that feels the most old-school, past some lovely cream and black tiles (and via two escalators).
Oxford Circus (Victoria → Bakerloo) [20s] Another splendidly quick parallel platform passage. They designed this line so well, those 1960s planners. Oxford Circus (Victoria → Central) [1m50s] A long trek down a long passage past a busker. Interestingly it's much quicker walking in the opposite direction, from Central to Victoria, which takes only half the time [55s]
Green Park (Victoria → Jubilee) [1m20s] This is the 'quick' interchange at Green Park, via steps and a single escalator. Green Park (Piccadilly → Victoria) [1m40s] This involves a long passage, but it's still a minute shorter than the really long interchange at Green Park, which is (Jubilee → Piccadilly) [2m40s]
Victoria (Victoria → National Rail) [2m] This requires ascent by escalator into a hellish ticket hall filled with milling tourists, then further steps up to reach the mainline concourse. Victoria (Circle → Victoria) [1m10s] A fairly quick descent, so long as you're at the right end of the platform.
Pimlico There is no interchange here.
Vauxhall (Victoria → South West Trains) [3m10s] A long escalator, a long passage, and then entry into the back of the station where there appears to be absolutely no guidance as to what mainline trains are leaving when from which platforms. A poor experience.
Stockwell (Victoria → Northern) [8s] That's the fifth brilliant connection to an adjacent platform. I say again, the Victoria line was designed with interchange in mind. Don't expect anything anywhere near as good from Crossrail.
Brixton (Victoria → Southeastern) [4m] Riding up the escalator, then walking up the steps into Brixton, takes 1m40s. There are then no signs pointing towards the National Rail station concealed round the corner, which is atrocious signage (unless I missed something) (I don't think I missed anything).
Route 588: Hackney Wick - Stratford City Location: through the Olympic Park Length of journey: 2 miles, 15 minutes
Now here's an odd bus. It's the very first TfL service to run through the Olympic Park. It's a double decker, with scenic views. It's a temporary service for 2013 only. It started operation this weekend, two weeks before Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park opens to the public. It's had barely any publicity, as if someone really doesn't want you to use it yet. And, not surprisingly, it has almost no passengers. Welcome to the 588.
Come December, when the Eastway has been remodelled to take two-way traffic, the 388 will be extended from Hackney Wick to Stratford. Until then the 588 runs the last bit, shuttling between the bus terminus on Eastway and the bus station at Stratford City. The idea is to provide a public transport link between Hackney and the shops at Westfield, which will be an excellent idea once the bus goes all the way and residents get to hear about it. In the meantime three drivers are being employed to transport air from a quiet corner of E9 to E20, from 5am until 1am, and passengers are conspicuous by their absence.
Stop number 1 is near the former Public Baths on the Eastway - a relatively out-of-the way location. Someone's been round to add a '588' plate to the bus stop, and a sign that says buses now travel "towards Homerton Hospital or Stratford City". But there's no timetable posted for the 588, nor does its route appear on the map in the shelter, so the waiting public are none the wiser. It's the same story at every other stop down the line, or at least it has been over the 588's first weekend. The secret bus arrives, the secret bus picks up nobody, the secret bus departs.
The first bit of the route is a detour, because the quick route straight ahead remains one-way traffic. Three stops to the north of the A12 are served, the last of which used to be called Olympic Park North but is currently labelled Hackney Marsh. It's your last chance to climb aboard before Westfield, but don't expect anyone to get on here either. The bus then joins the queue of cars waiting to drive through the park to the mega-mall's multi-storey. The 588's notional 10 minute running time is already looking somewhat optimistic.
No buses have run down Waterden Road since July 2007, when the three bus garages along here were forced to relocate pre-Olympics. Their depots later formed the backdrop for the Games and those nice green lawns sloping down to the river. Even Waterden Road has been relocated, a little to the west of where it was, now running alongside the back of the International Broadcast Centre. Cars have been allowed to travel this way for months, because big retailers need customers, but only now is there a footpath running alongside for the use of pedestrians. It's just not open yet.
This weekend's event in Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park was the Wireless Festival, headlined by Justin Timberlake and Jay-Z. Thanks to the 588 I've almost been, or at least I've peered over the perimeter wall at the circus-style tents, gents loos and drinks concessions. The main entrance is opposite the Copper Box, where barriers funnel festival-goers through their patdown and ticket check. This stream of humanity crosses Waterden Road at a hand-controlled Stop-Go junction, causing the bus yet further delays. Even a year after the Olympics this is still a very entertainment-oriented spot.
Two bus stops outside the Copper Box await their first passengers, probably in a fortnight's time, but are currently covered up. That big mirrored RUN sculpture remains outside, one of the few leftovers from the Olympic Park allowing comparison of 2013 roadspace with 2012walkway. And then the road turns left toward Westfield, crossing the bridge across the narrow centre of Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park. To the north the parklands look lush and inviting, though without the signature wild flower meadows we all loved last summer. And to the south there's the Stadium, the Orbit and the Aquatic Centre, the latter now shorn of its wings, again with attractive greenery in the foreground.
On entering the Westfield complex the 588 should run straight ahead, past two new bus stops outside John Lewis and the bar area. The latter stop looks particularly bereft, with no timetables on the post, and the bus shelter inconveniently situated a dozen yards away. But the 588 can't travel this way when QEOP is in full-on festival mode, so at the weekend it was diverted round the northern side of the mall past Stratford International station. There are new bus stops here too, still shrouded in yellow "Bus stop not in use" coverings, awaiting their first services at the end of August. Ooh, International Way has finally opened to traffic, and it's even possible to walk up Celebration Avenue into what used to be the Athletes Village. London's post-Olympic legacy is silently, inexorably, opening up for business.
At the last stop in Stratford City bus station the 588 opens its doors, even if there are no passengers aboard to alight. And then the driver waits patiently for the appointed time in case anybody else wants to travel back the other way. It's not looking likely. Again there's no 588 timetable here, nor does the 588 appear on any map, so when the bus pulls up to start its journey not a single shopper from the waiting horde gets on. They'll get the hang eventually, especially when they realise the 588 is the ideal service for taking a picnic to the Park. But for now it potters off empty, three or four times an hour, reclaiming the Lower Lea Valley for precisely nobody. Why not book your top deck ride today?
On the hottest day of the year, I headed west to a place of sun worship. To Stonehenge, the prehistoric stone circle, via Salisbury, the medieval city. The heat was unrelenting, the shade was minimal, but this entire corner of Wiltshire was most pleasant.
Stonehenge: You can see the stones from the A303. From the traffic jam on the hill, just before the fork with the A344, many's the holiday-bound journey enlivened with a cry of "blimey, it's Stonehenge!" But a line of cars is not the best way of enhancing the visitor experience at a World Heritage Site, so long-term plans are underway to tidy up the surrounding infrastructure, with 2013 the year everything changes. The A344 was stopped-up three weeks ago, with the aim of returning this road past the stones to grass, and a new life as a permissive footpath. Now road access is only possible from the west, via the Longbarrow Roundabout and Airman's Corner, as Stonehenge temporarily becomes a diversionary dead end. And not a moment too soon, if the current visitor experience is anything to go by.
The existing Visitor Centre, if you can call it that, is a cluster of prefabs burrowed down below road level out of sight of the stone circle. Cars and coaches pull into an extensive car park on the plain, then disgorge their hordes towards the ticket booths. The crowds are mostly foreign tourists, what with Stonehenge being on the international tourist trail, many of them youth parties or far Eastern snappers. They queue restlessly on the slope - yesterday in beating heat - to pass through an inadequate number of turnstiles at the bottom. Arrive in an organised party or on the tour bus and you can overtake, else you may be waiting here for some time. Refreshments are provided by the Stonehenge Cafe, which might sound romantic but is in reality a cramped counter service with a tiny kitchen behind dispensing limited beverage and baked options to a disorganised queue. As for the shop, on the other side of the barrier, that's tiny compared to the numbers trying to cram in and buy magnets, postcards and pop-up Stonehenges. It's not been possible to build anything better, or more permanent, this close to the circle, due to incredibly strict planning regulations, but thankfully this circle of hell has less than six months to live.
Access to the stones is via a subway beneath the road that's no longer a road. That's the only shelter on site which isn't great if it rains or, as yesterday, in unrelenting 30° heat. Beyond is the first "woo" view of the stones, which are now revealed as a ring of rocks in the middle of a grassy field. It used to be possible to walk up to and into and around the stones, but they were roped off in the 1970s (except for special occasions such as solstices and early morning visits). Now only the first section of path curves inside the original earthwork circle, allowing visitors to get sort-of close, and with the added advantage that it's possible to take photos without backpacking teenagers clogging the shot. Everyone stops to take a photo, more usually a dozen, because that's the true reason they're here. Some want the stones untainted, whilst others are more keen that every single shot features themselves, their friends or their family. Indeed it's hard to walk far without some international tourist offering you their camera and asking if you'll shoot them. They pose, you click, and then they pointedly study their digital screen to check that your handiwork passes their quality threshold.
Most visitors carry with them an audio guide, dished out in their chosen language, which dispenses the Stonehenge story at seven locations around the circumference. The commentary explains how the stones might have got here and what their orientation might mean, but the underlying tone always seems to be "we just don't know". But it's intriguing to stare across at the henge, from a variety of angles, and wonder what inspired our ancestors to build something so strange and magical. What's not made especially clear is what we see today has involved considerable modern intervention, propping up fallen stones and replacing lintels. Various holes remain empty, and the central circle is incomplete in a way that relies more on gravity and reconstruction than prehistoric intention. There's no rush wandering round, and the grassy outer perimeter offers far more space to linger and admire the surrounding landscape. The area around Stonehenge is littered with earthworks and barrows, some you can walk to afterwards. Or you can just queue for an ice cream then follow your tour guide back to the coach, another British icon ticked off, then Bath next?
Up by Airman's Cross a new Visitor Centre is under construction. It's an extensive but low structure, sheltered in a hollow, with an undulating wooden canopy. Inside there's a lot of scaffolding, and not yet much content, while round the back is a patch that's destined to be the new car park. If all goes to schedule it'll open in December, in time for the winter solstice, although it looks like there's a heck of a lot to be done before then. The canopy will shield two large pods and a ticket office, and attractions will include a 360° virtual experience allowing participants to "walk within the stones". The road east to Stonehenge will then be closed, and visitors will ride a motorised shuttle for the mile and a half journey to the henge. All the existing prefabs will then be swept away, replaced by below-ground toilets, and the car park will be appropriately relandscaped. If you're planning a visit, best wait a little until Stonehenge is renewed among the fields and the circle of hell is wiped away.
Old Sarum: There are two Sarums, one New by the river (which became Salisbury) and one Old a couple of miles north. The original was an Iron Age hillfort, approximately circular in shape and perfectly sited for all-round viewing, appropriated and enlarged by William The Conqueror. At the heart of Old Sarum was the royal castle, surrounded by a deep ditch, and around this was a bustling city plus cathedral. It's hard to imagine today. The ruins of the castle remain, plus the outline of the cathedral in the outer ward, but elsewhere nature has taken over. A carpet of long grass, alive with bumble bees and butterflies, extends across the acres of the medieval city. Lie back and watch the parachutists floating down onto Old Sarum Airfield nextdoor, or stare from the ramparts at the replacement city in the valley.
Salisbury: Five rivers meet at Salisbury, where the water meadows provided fertile ground for resettlement. The 'new' cathedral, founded in 1220, has the highestspire in Britain and a loftyGothicstyle. It's also the proud owner of one of the only four copies of Magna Carta in existence, and it's free to get in, although donations of £6.50 are encouraged. Yesterday I arrived in time to listen to the choir rehearsing for Evensong, which was lovely, but alas too late in the day to gain access to the Chapter House and admire King John's vellum. The CathedralClose is the largest in the country, surrounded by a motley collection of fineheritagebuildings (including the former home of Edward Heath, now an unlikely visitor attraction - at least until funding dries up). Elsewhere the city centre is as picturesque as you'd hope, especially if you're a foreign tourist for whom this is your sole experience of provincial England. For a quieter experience follow the Town Path across the water meadows for views of the cathedralwith sheep in the foreground, to HarnhamOldMill where yesterday local youth were leaping into the millstream to cool down.
Stonehenge Tour: So, how do you get here? Salisbury is less than 90 minutes from London by train, with regular bus tours running to Stonehenge from outside the station. From June to August they run half-hourly, at other times hourly, with a stop off at Old Sarum on the way back. The £20 fare includes admission, just don't ask for the £24 "plus cathedral" ticket advertised on the website otherwise your driver will pour scorn on you because "churches are free". Yesterday's driver was a grumpy jobsworth, scowling at passengers "crowding him" as they boarded, and issuing health and safety instructions in the Stonehenge car park like a primary schoolteacher. For the best views sit on the right hand side of the bus, or at the front, and don't expect to be able to hear the recorded commentary on the way round - the volume's set too low to be audible. It'll be a shorter ride from December, though maybe you'd be better off waiting until high summer 2014 before making your pilgrimage.
• I went round the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy in Piccadilly. This is the annual showcase where would-be exhibitors bring their art along and if the committee like it, and it fits, it becomes part of "the hang". There's lots to see, and if you don't like one picture you'll probably like one of the dozen surrounding it. The paintings have a wide variety of subjects, not just flowers and landscapes, plus there are drawings, photographs, sculptures and architectural models. Not so many kittens this year, I thought, but pelicans and badly-painted zebras are catching up on the rails. A red dot signifies that a member of the public wishes to purchase to artwork, or a print. The painting with the most red dots added was a blank white canvas surrounded by red dots - a good joke, but it's been done now thanks, so don't try submitting it again next year. Grayson Perry's sixclass-based tapestries are in the final room, and well worth a look if you haven't seen them yet.
I also went round the Mexican art exhibition upstairs. That doesn't take so long.
• I popped into Woolfson & Tay. It's still a very nice independent bookshop, and it was good to see it attracting customers into the backstreets of South Bank Southwark.
• I walked past the bottom of the Shard. It would have been a lovely day for a trip to the viewing platform, for anyone who had £29.95 to spare. Only the 'sunset' session was fully booked - every remaining slot had tickets to spare.
• I got hot and sticky, because it was a hot and sticky kind of day.
• I listened to the new Pet Shop Boys album, Electric, which is released on Monday. It's very dancey, and it's easily their best effort since the 90s. I'm currently torn between Fluorescent, Thursday and Love is a Bourgeois Concept as the best track.
• I went to Rough Trade East in the evening for the launch of St Etienne's London Trilogy DVD. The whole of the band were there to celebrate their three London films being released together for the first time, courtesy of the BFI. That's Finisterre (the film-poem), What Have You Done Today, Mervyn Day? (the pre-Olympic drama-documentary) and This Is Tomorrow (a celebration of the Royal Festival Hall's refurbishment). We didn't watch those, but we did watch all of the DVD's extras, including two shorts about closed-down classic cafes, a day in the life of Hendon FC's lamb-costumed mascot, a revisit of the Lower Lea Valley seven years on, and ten minutes on South Bank - a Teeside town suffering economic (but not yet residential) collapse. They do like to document normality on the cusp of disappearance, do St Etienne. In the Q&A we learned that a fourth London film is in production, this time based on archive film from 1950-80, and that Sarah, Paul and Bob are currently working on the music. We learned that their 2005 album is named after Turnpike House because their filmmaker Paul Kelly lived there at the time. And we discovered that Sarah had missed her son's Sports Day victory to come and sit in a hot sticky Brick Lane record shop, so thanks Sarah. The DVD costs £5 less if you buy it at Rough Trade, and currently comes packaged with a set of four signed postcards.
• I took my DVD out drinking in the West End. I think I was the only person there with shopping. I asked for a bottle of Becks but they pulled me a pint. I didn't last until closing time.
Walk north from King's Cross station, along two-year-old King's Boulevard, and a new neighbourhood is arising. I swear those office blocks weren't there the last time I walked this way, but now there are a couple of latticed skeletons rising several floors behind the barriers. This is St Pancras Square, a semi-public piazza surrounded by six major office buildings, numbered with some lack of excitement from One to Six. One St Pancras Square has been rebranded the 'Gridiron', I guess because that sounds heritage-evocative, but the reality will be rather less exciting. Google are setting up a London HQ on the (whole of the) other side of the street, although that's not gone up yet and should be complete by 2016. The street's busy enough though, with students from Central St Martins and office workers from the existing King's Cross North, plus a fairly regular dash of street food vans.
A jagged stripeof silver has been stuck across the walls of Central St Martins and adjacent buildings around Granary Square. It may not make visual sense, but it's not meant to unless you see it from the right position, and that's several feet above the ground. Look to the corner of the road by the canal and you'll see a viewing platform (called 'Viewing Platform') consisting of some steps around a couple of metal containers. Climb up and there's a great view of the surrounding area, and also of that jagged stripe. From up here the geometric shapes stuck to various buildings line up to make a whole, and if you stand in exactly the right place they join up perfectly. You can judge that by trying to fit the silver shapes on the lampposts in the foreground into the right spot to fit the gaps in the background. It's a very clever trick of perspective and will make you smile if you get it right... but it's only here until October.
Also temporary is the view across St Pancras Square towards the two stations, the BT Tower and the City. As the building site rises these new offices will start to conceal the London skyline beyond, and this'll become just another office block and cappuccino quarter where tens of thousands come to work. Nip in quick to see the prequel, and to enjoy Felice Varini's "dazzling ensemble of geometric forms" across the buildings.
In amongst the commuters and long distance travellers at King's Cross station, one group of visitors is going nowhere. They've come to see a platform that isn't here, and even if it was here they wouldn't be able to see it. Platform 9¾ played a big part in the Harry Potter novels, even though JK Rowling later admitted she'd got the terminus wrong and meant Euston instead. In the early days of Pottermania station staff kept visiting muggles occupied by sticking up a sign saying 'Platform 9¾' near Platform 9, and stuck half a trolley in the wall. Plenty of people came along to take photos, but you didn't usually have to wait too long because it was stuck out by the Cambridge platforms, not the mainline. In the restructure of King's Cross station it's been moved to the new whoop-de-doo entrance area, on a wall between the bookshop and the currency exchange. It's not an exciting wall, and it's not inbetween platforms 9 and 10 either. One day it will be, when King's Cross's Platform 0 is renumbered 1, and all the other platforms hike up one. But for now the tourists don't care, they just want their photo taken by the sign. The queues were short to start off with, then a rope appeared, and so did an 'official photographer'. It's a very different experience at Platform 9¾ today. And very popular.
The queue slinks back, and round, and pokes out into the concourse. I'd say there are three dozen waiting, almost all of them between the ages of 16 and 25. They've willingly submitted to queueing for an organised attraction, because they're tourists and they have no idea this used to be free and easy. At the front is a small group of folk wearing wine-red waistcoats. One is the photographer, and he stands a little off to the side to get an unobtrusive shot. Another (on this occasion) is the scarf holder, who has the none too taxing job of holding a long strip of knitwear back horizontally and then letting go, to make a good photo. And another is the whipper-upper, who chivvies the crowd, and moves them forward, and explains to each in turn how the process works. "Is anyone here from Finland?" he asks, and two hands go up. It's that sort of queue.
When it's your turn a scarf is wrapped around your neck, then you're ushered forward and invited to grab hold of the bar on the half-a-trolley. And raise one foot into the air. And look to your left. And smile. All trace of originality has been snuffed out because everyone gets shaped into this single pose, but the uniformity helps move the conveyor belt forward. If you have a significant other there's nothing to stop them standing beside the official photographer and taking a photo of your own. It's even encouraged, because this isn't some evil cartel operation. But on a given signal the scarf holder lets go, and the scarf flutters momentarily in the air, and that's the moment when the official photographer clicks to take the money shot. And if you want to see that, you need to go visit the shop. Oh yes, there's a shop, the Platform 9¾ Shop, just to the left below the stairs to The Parcel Yard.
It's not a big shop, indeed it's rather narrow. It's been set out to look a bit like Ollivanders in Diagon Alley. And it opened lastDecember, so it's pretty well established now. £8 gets you a copy of your photo, which is less than I think I was expecting, if you queue again at the counter in the centre. Ooh look, they also have scarves just like the one some waistcoated bloke just tied round your neck, but they cost over £30. The walls of the shops are completely packed with official Harry Potter merchandise, from Marauders Maps and Chocolate Frogs to more expensive cashmere 'house' sweaters. Head down the back and you'll find a display of wands, quite evocatively laid out, but essentially little more than carved bits of something woodlike stashed in a nice box, for £30. It's clear that the photo is merely a hook to get visitors inside where there's then every chance they'll spend a fair bit more. The shop's run by the same bloke who runs the London Film Museum, and he's clearly tapped his market well, but those commuters aren't missing much by walking past.
St Clement's started out as the City of London Union Workhouse in 1849, where those with nothing came to throw themselves upon the mercy of the benefactors. In 1874 it switched to being an infirmary for the assessment of the mental health of inmates at other institutions, and in 1912 a facility for the chronically ill. When the NHS was created it became a psychiatric hospital, and remained so until 2005 when services moved out and everything was boarded up. Normally in such circumstances the end result is bland flats, but events at St Clement's have led down a somewhat unusual path. The site was made London's first Community Land Trust, which means its freehold will be held by the local community rather than guzzled whole by a developer. There'll be considerably more affordable housing than usual, some of it newbuild, the rest created within the hospital's existing landmark buildings. But not quite yet, hence one last summer to celebrate.
Patrick Caulfield (5 June - 1 September)
This great cathedral is second in the Anglican pecking order only to Canterbury, and in terms of size the largest in Northern Europe. Pay nothing and you can get in to see a tiny corner near the cash desk, pay extra and you can add a trip up the tower. Everything's a little loftier or grander or more ancient than your usual cathedral, even the scaffolding currently covering the eastern end. To counter the disappointment of visitors hoping to see the enormous medieval stained glass window, an interactive exhibition has been staged which offers considerably more insight than you'd typically get staring at the designs from afar. It's hard to believe it's 30 years since the south transept was gutted by fire, such is the quality of the workmanship above, and there's also been major restructuring of the foundations below. A new exhibition opened this spring in the crypt, entitled York Minster Revealed, which greatly increases how much there is to see and enjoy here. The cathedral is built on the site of the Roman garrison at Eboracum, whose stonework can now be seen beneath a glass floor, in a fascinating juxtaposition. This underground display tracks 2000 years of history, with considerable aplomb, but is easily missed if you don't think to walk down the steps near the exit. All this, plus the everyday life of a working cathedral, makes the Minster a must-visit.
You'll know this as the museum with an entire Victorian shopping street inside. That street is Kirkgate, and several dozen shopfronts have been created to display the museum's collection of products and wares. In the pharmacists and grocers you can chat to the shopkeeper, in Terry's chocolate shop you can buy sugar mice, and occasionally an audio thunderstorm breaks out with 'rain' splashing the cobbles. This is the best bit of the museum, but there's tons more to see on the sinuous route around two distinct buildings. Some is very Yorkshire-based, but more is about the human experience in cities and villages over the years. I enjoyed the rooms stuffed with period toys, and the prisoners' tales in the old gaol, and especially the The Sixties exhibition (where every visitor of a certain age stopped and smiled and nostalged). Well worth a visit.
This is York's newest attraction, launched last year, which aims to tell the story of the city's most important manufactured product. The Rowntrees and the Terrys were two local Quaker families, pioneers in the British chocolate industry, and far ahead of their time in treating their employees fairly and equally. The attraction is part theatre, part hands-on experience, as your tour group is led round two floors of the building by a slightly Wonka-esque guide in an apron. Our guide managed to coax a tour group that was half French schoolkids without losing their attention, which is high praise. Upstairs is the history bit, nicely delivered, with surround cinema, interactive screens and several chocolate samples. And downstairs there's the chance to make your own chocolate lolly, and watch an expert make posh chocolates, and take away both to eat. I was won over by the video wall of Rowntree/Terry TV adverts, where I fervently hope nobody else noticed me singing along to the 1971 classic "Smartie people are happy people" like a brainwashed loon. Nothing especially highbrow, but eighty minutes well spent in the company of (slurp) chocolate.
Come December, when the Eastway has been remodelled to take two-way traffic, the 388 will be extended from Hackney Wick to Stratford. Until then the 588 runs the last bit, shuttling between the bus terminus on Eastway and the bus station at Stratford City. The idea is to provide a public transport link between Hackney and the shops at Westfield, which will be an excellent idea once the bus goes all the way and residents get to hear about it. In the meantime three drivers are being employed to transport air from a quiet corner of E9 to E20, from 5am until 1am, and passengers are conspicuous by their absence.
Most visitors carry with them an audio guide, dished out in their chosen language, which dispenses the Stonehenge story at seven locations around the circumference. The commentary explains how the stones might have got here and what their orientation might mean, but the underlying tone always seems to be "we just don't know". But it's intriguing to stare across at the henge, from a variety of angles, and wonder what inspired our ancestors to build something so strange and magical. What's not made especially clear is what we see today has involved considerable modern intervention, propping up fallen stones and replacing lintels. Various holes remain empty, and the central circle is incomplete in a way that relies more on gravity and reconstruction than prehistoric intention. There's no rush wandering round, and the grassy outer perimeter offers far more space to linger and admire the surrounding landscape. The area around Stonehenge is littered with earthworks and barrows, some you can walk to afterwards. Or you can just queue for an ice cream then follow your tour guide back to the coach, another British icon ticked off, then Bath next?
Salisbury: Five rivers meet at Salisbury, where the water meadows provided fertile ground for resettlement. The 'new' cathedral, founded in 1220, has the highest spire in Britain and a lofty Gothic style. It's also the proud owner of one of the only four copies of Magna Carta in existence, and it's free to get in, although donations of £6.50 are encouraged. Yesterday I arrived in time to listen to the choir rehearsing for Evensong, which was lovely, but alas too late in the day to gain access to the Chapter House and admire King John's vellum. The Cathedral Close is the largest in the country, surrounded by a motley collection of fine heritage buildings (including the former home of Edward Heath, now an unlikely visitor attraction - at least until funding dries up). Elsewhere the city centre is as picturesque as you'd hope, especially if you're a foreign tourist for whom this is your sole experience of provincial England. For a quieter experience follow the Town Path across the water meadows for views of the cathedral with sheep in the foreground, to Harnham Old Mill where yesterday local youth were leaping into the millstream to cool down.
• I went to Rough Trade East in the evening for the launch of St Etienne's London Trilogy DVD. The whole of the band were there to celebrate their three London films being released together for the first time, courtesy of the BFI. That's Finisterre (the film-poem), What Have You Done Today, Mervyn Day? (the pre-Olympic drama-documentary) and This Is Tomorrow (a celebration of the Royal Festival Hall's refurbishment). We didn't watch those, but we did watch all of the DVD's extras, including two shorts about closed-down classic cafes, a day in the life of Hendon FC's lamb-costumed mascot, a revisit of the Lower Lea Valley seven years on, and ten minutes on South Bank - a Teeside town suffering economic (but not yet residential) collapse. They do like to document normality on the cusp of disappearance, do St Etienne. In the Q&A we learned that a fourth London film is in production, this time based on archive film from 1950-80, and that Sarah, Paul and Bob are currently working on the music. We learned that their 2005 album is named after Turnpike House because their filmmaker Paul Kelly lived there at the time. And we discovered that Sarah had missed her son's Sports Day victory to come and sit in a hot sticky Brick Lane record shop, so thanks Sarah. The DVD costs £5 less if you buy it at Rough Trade, and currently comes packaged with a set of four signed postcards.
In amongst the commuters and long distance travellers at King's Cross station, one group of visitors is going nowhere. They've come to see a platform that isn't here, and even if it was here they wouldn't be able to see it. Platform 9¾ played a big part in the Harry Potter novels, even though JK Rowling later admitted she'd got the terminus wrong and meant Euston instead. In the early days of Pottermania station staff kept visiting muggles occupied by sticking up a sign saying 'Platform 9¾' near Platform 9, and stuck half a trolley in the wall. Plenty of people came along to take photos, but you didn't usually have to wait too long because it was stuck out by the Cambridge platforms, not the mainline. In the restructure of King's Cross station it's been moved to the new whoop-de-doo entrance area, on a wall between the bookshop and the currency exchange. It's not an exciting wall, and it's not inbetween platforms 9 and 10 either. One day it will be, when King's Cross's Platform 0 is renumbered 1, and all the other platforms hike up one. But for now the tourists don't care, they just want their photo taken by the sign. The queues were short to start off with, then a rope appeared, and so did an 'official photographer'. It's a very different experience at Platform 9¾ today. And very popular.
When it's your turn a scarf is wrapped around your neck, then you're ushered forward and invited to grab hold of the bar on the half-a-trolley. And raise one foot into the air. And look to your left. And smile. All trace of originality has been snuffed out because everyone gets shaped into this single pose, but the uniformity helps move the conveyor belt forward. If you have a significant other there's nothing to stop them standing beside the official photographer and taking a photo of your own. It's even encouraged, because this isn't some evil cartel operation. But on a given signal the scarf holder lets go, and the scarf flutters momentarily in the air, and that's the moment when the official photographer clicks to take the money shot. And if you want to see that, you need to go visit the shop. Oh yes, there's a shop, the Platform 9¾ Shop, just to the left below the stairs to The Parcel Yard.
