Today is the 960th anniversary of the Battle of Hastings.
To celebrate I've been out in search of every London property numbered 1066.
And I've found four, maybe two more, maybe forty-seven.
You might be surprised to see that some London streets have over 1000 houses. But they do, as you can see, in a few key locations. What you need is a long road, generally arterial, all of which has been numbered consecutively without being renamed midway. Often these are old and important, possibly even ancient, but some are interwar bypasses lined by suburban housing. Let's start with the house with the red door...
1066 Green Lane, Becontree RM8 1BT Borough: Barking and Dagenham Highest numbered property: 1148
This 1066 can be found on the massive council estate at Becontree, up in the northeastern corner near the fiveway junction by the leisure centre. It's a lowly pebbledash home erected circa 1930, no frills, bunched together with seven neighbours in a long dour terrace. Minimal windows, limited love. Entrance is through an arch into a porch shared with number 1068, with electricity meters out front and a front garden that's long been crazy-paved. Here the owners park a Ford car and a silver van with ladders on the roof, so likely self-employed, and also a have a skylight in the roof suggesting there are now more than the two original bedrooms. I checked back and the last time this property sold it was bought for just £85,000, now a ridiculously tiny sum but that's what ex-council houses went for in Barking & Dagenham in 2001.
Until the 1920s Green Lane was one of a handful of country lanes that ran through the estate, three quiet miles from Ilford to Becontree Heath. This section was once just past the end of the heath, close to where a footpath from Valence House cut across the fields, but since transformed into very little natural at all. Across the street are a Christian Fellowship that used to be a Pentecostal Church, a car wash that used to be a garage and a pub that now sells more meals than beer. The final house on the other side of Green Lane is immediately opposite but is only number 945, so if the Battle of Hastings had happened in 1065 or 1067 I wouldn't be here.
Just a mile away, round the corner from a Crossrail station, is a road that already existed by 1066. It's the Roman road that originally connected London and Colchester, here passing straight through Chadwell Heath. It's called High Road all the way from Ilford to the edge of Havering, and it turns out three miles is quite enough to get house numbers up into four figures. Only the Redbridge segment is numbered sequentially, indeed just up the road B&D starts and High Road starts again from 1, so we've been extremely fortunate it gets just far enough to enter the Norman era. In fact 1066 High Road used to be 47 Belstone Terrace, but around fifty years ago a lengthy renumbering exercise was undertaken extending east from the original 863 in Goodmayes. There's always a reason for a 1066.
This 1066 is immediately alongside the Wangey Road bus shelter, so close that the owners probably curse every time someone sits on their front wall. It's near the end of a long row of interwar houses, much like semis but bunched together in fours, just before it breaks for what used to be the Gaumont cinema. The front garden includes a trunky conifer that's shot up fast, some dangly fibre optics that look like they came from a garden centre and a stack of recycling tubs, from which I know they buy their milk at Sainsbury's. The house went up for sale in 2022 so it's possible to peer inside, confirming that the owners put a heck of a lot of effort into glitzy internal decor but didn't really give a damn about their back garden. And I thank them for replacing the pane above the front porch about ten years ago because that's where the number 1066 now glitters, prior to which you could only really work it out by sequencing the neighbours.
Another mile away, this time on the far side of King George Hospital, this 1066 is on the A12. Eastern Avenue is a key Essex-bound arterial, built in the 1920s as a bypass for the main road the previous 1066 was on. Back in those days they believed in ribbon development, a line of housing facing both sides of the dual carriageway, although at least here they added a parallel access lane for parking cars. Architecturally it's a hybrid, bottom half redbrick top half pebbledash, and just for a change it's one of a line of maisonettes. Annoyingly 1066 is on the top floor, annoying for them because they get the pebbles and annoying for Battle of Hastings purposes because access is at the side, not the front. If there is a 1066 on the door it's not visible from the road, although I'm sure delivery drivers cope by counting out the neighbours. And in news to depress anyone currently seeking a 2-bedder it last sold for £50,000, this way back in 1995, London's housing ladder now a battle very much lost.
It's likely no coincidence that the only three houses in London numbered 1066 are all in outer east London and all on important parallel 'A' roads. Only here was development late enough for residential roads to run to great length, also there's not much in the way of rivers and contours to get in the way. Bad luck to Forest Road in Walthamstow which only gets to 1051 and to Romford Road in Ilford which only gets to 1043.
The only 1066 south of the river is, just for a change, a shop. It was formerly a unisex salon and a yoga centre but since the pandemic it's been Gujrati Barber. It trades at the centre of a parade of a dozen shops on another main road, this time halfway between Streatham and Croydon. Yet again it dates from the late 1920s, as if this was the proper peak for four-figure roads (or else an intriguing coincidence). Inside is a pristine white room with mirrors, sinks and product along one side and slouchable chairs on the other, also a TV on the back wall so the Gujrati barber doesn't get bored. I don't know what you pay round your way but a haircut here is just £10, a skinfade only £12 and if you're under 10 or over 65 merely £8. Also this establishment is in direct competition with Bulley's Barbers across the road, a longerstanding groomer and also lowlier, its row of customer chairs not somewhere you'd want to wait for long.
It's not usually the case that both sides of a very long street are numbered in tandem but here the two barbers are 1063 and 1066 so it's all worked out perfectly. Also London Road's numbering starts by West Croydon station and manages to reach an amazing 1597 by the time it reaches the borough boundary in Norbury, so you could also come back here for the anniversaries of Agincourt, Bannockburn and Bosworth Field.
Just our luck, an extended run of shops and houses breaks here for a garage, and has done since Victorian times. Originally the garage was numbered 1066 but then it got knocked through to create a larger property that faces the road, currently occupied by the Autocare MOT Centre. Bring in your motor for service or repairs and it'll be seen to in the big blue shed, which as you can see is alas numbered 1064-1068. Technically Hastings, but invisibly bookended and thus invisible.
Another High Road but this time between Finchley and Barnet as part of the former Great North Road. Until 2012 there were sparse commercial premises here but someone saw the redevelopment potential and now wham, 46 luxury flats. These were marketed as Whetstone Square, a concierged community "with views over North Middlesex Golf Club", now with a carved rock plonked out front displaying a somewhat contrived shield. The house numbers above the entrance clearly state that this is 1060-1072 but each individual flat has a 1066 High Road address, because obviously if you were in the marketing department that's the number you'd pick. Potentially there are 46 Battles of Hastings here, but you can't see any of that from the street so that's one in the eye for Whetstone.
If it's the second week in October then something new must have appeared in the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern. And as ever the question is "has someone finally done something decent?"
Probably.
This is Hold by Tarek Atoui, a musical artwork comprising umpteen specially-constructed instruments. There are pipes and drums and mouthorgans and what look like bells but I think are actually horns, also mechanised mallets that occasionally hit things. There are also a lot of cables and loudspeakers because the instrumental music plays, very variedly, interspersed with wheezy strings and electronic sounds. It is, according to the Lebanese artist, a transformation of the Turbine Hall into "a sonic landscape connecting earth and sky".
There's something 1920s Heath Robinson about it, in that you almost expect some ball will come rolling down the pipework and strike some percussive membrane before landing in a metal bowl. Alas it's rather more static than that, other than the mallets, all powered by electronic signals, long cables and a row of laptops on a table at the back. The eclectic orchestra includes Korean drums, Uzbek horns and Chinese polyphonic reed instruments, also apparently the dangly textile strips generate and transmit sound although that may just be artbolx. Other noises include ambient sound reworked through the loudspeakers, and yesterday I heard something bleepy, something double bassy and a lot that was whooshy.
Officially it opens today but the good thing about an enormous intervention in a public space is that you can easily see it the day before. Even better I got to see the artist himself wandering around adding some finishing touches, or perhaps engaged in a desperate race against time to get everything switched on. Some folk were also wiring up a drum kit because one of the performative aspects here is that musicians will sometimes be invited to play along. Tarek himself is participating this weekend alongside Emptyset, Mazen Kerbaj, Kenichi Iwasa and Aya Metwalli.
It's always nice when a Turbine Hall installation is interactive but here the best on offer is sit to on a stone slab, some of which have embedded speakers, and feel the vibrations. I didn't get to try this because downstairs was all sealed off, this the downside of going before it's all properly open. But I did get a good view of the assemblage from the upper mezzanine, also a chance to stand under the sugar/bamboo horns hanging alone up the other end of the hall, also sound carries so you can hear it anywhere.
The Turbine Hall is a tough space to fill and many former contributors have fallen flat. What Atoui gets right is to use the height, just as those floating aerobes did in 2021, and also to flood the space with sound, just as 2003's golden sun once flooded it with light. It's not quite a must-see, it's been years since we had one of them, but it does trounce the recent reindeer bones, manky skins, bottletops and Andean knots. And it's here until April so you've got ages to remember it's here, drop by and have a listen.
Update: I've been back today so I could walk amongst the instruments downstairs and listen to the actual noises (which were low and rumbly, nearer to white noise and melody-free). The installation was proving popular with visitors, many dozens walking around and listening while others lay on the slabs as directed to try to feel the vibrations. I tried but felt nothing, so maybe I was on the wrong block, maybe the sounds weren't bassy enough or maybe there's genuinely nothing to feel, it's an Emperor's New Clothes thing. But it turns out the slabs are the genius idea, they're what make people stop and pay attention, thereby becoming part of the whole and creating the 'community' the artist intended. He was there again, cutting a fine figure in white leather boots with Cuban heels, chatting to visitors and occasionally dashing over to a locked cabinet to nudge the soundtrack by tweaking a touchscreen. Three stars out of five feels appropriate, best since 2021.
Some transport stories are barely newsworthy, but still usefully fill space.
🚡 As part of Befriending Week in November, free return trips are being offered on the cablecar to lonely people who'd like to share a cabin. "Designed to spark conversation and tackle social isolation, passengers are encouraged to exchange questions and stories during the journey," also you get a free hot drink. The last slot sold out last night, sorry, so you could just try striking up a conversation with the person next to you on the tube and see where that gets you.
🏆 The Rail Delivery Group have just launched their annual World Cup of Stations with 20 nominations representing "the stations creating connections that matter". But on the voting website the vote comes before the citations, those citations have been abridged to 40 words of generalised waffle, and you have to click 20 times to read all the citations which doesn't encourage anyone to vote based on facts. Also the whole thing is presented in a scrolling frame so initially you can only see the top end of the voting list so I bet a station near the start of the list wins, just like Ashington did last year, and essentially it's a great idea egregiously delivered.
🚌 This Saturday the frequency of route 359 (Purley - New Addington) is being cut from every 45 minutes to once an hour. It was half-hourly ten years ago so this is a bit pants, especially for those down Purley Downs Road and on the Monks Hill Estate. Also it doesn't save any money, they're still using two vehicles to run the service, also according to the new timetable those buses will now spend 45% of their time sitting around at the termini which seems unnecessarily wasteful.
🍓 Berrylands station has reopened after they replaced both platforms with something less wonky. Access remains up a temporary staircase for now, but there are new shelters on both platforms, also the station signs are now in new GBR style.
🚕 TfL have launched their annual consultation on raising taxi fares. There are four options, three of which are "raise fares by 7.07%" and one of which is "don't raise fares", and no passenger is going to vote for the first three.
👜 TfL's latest TikTok video is 10 seconds of pulling branded goods out of a branded bag, because heaven forbid the priority should be transport when you can plug merch instead.
🚊 A recent FoI request asked how DLR services would be improved now that the new 'B23' units are finally coming into use. TfL generously produced a long list of future milestones so you can see how the rolling stock rollout should proceed.
10th Jan 2027: Stratford-Woolwich all new trains, also first new train on Bank-Lewisham
15th Feb 2027: restoration of Stratford-Lewisham services, also restoration of Canning Town-Beckton in peak hours
30th May 2027: Bank-Lewisham all new trains
31st Oct 2027: full length/new trains on Bank-Woolwich
09th Jan 2028: full length/new trains on Tower Gateway-Beckton
05th Mar 2028: Stratford-Beckton restored in peak hours, also full-length trains on Stratford-Lewisham
16th Apr 2028: full length trains on Stratford-Canary Wharf
05th Sep 2028: Stratford-Lewisham 2 trains per cycle
31st Mar 2029: Stratford-Woolwich 2 trains per cycle
04th Feb 2030: Stratford-Woolwich 15 trains per hour
While lying back in the bath recently, luxuriating, I wondered "I wonder how many more of these I'll have".
b = bathnumber
b = number of baths yet to come
We all have a bathnumber. We don't know what it is, nor can we measure it with any degree of certainty, but it is a precisely defined value. The number of baths you'll have in the future is not yet a set value but one day will be, thus it's possible to muse on what that final total might be.
Your bathnumber could be 2, 863 or 9701, indeed it could be any of a number of values, and you might have some idea which of those is closest to yours. But you can't be 100% sure what it is, except in certain unpleasantly fatalistic situations, because the future is not yet set. Your bathnumber can only be calculated retrospectively, counting backwards to today, but can still be estimated which is what today's post is about.
My initial estimate for my own bathnumber is that b = 4000.
I checked my life expectancy via the government's calculator and factored in how often I have a bath, then multiplied "number of years remaining" by "number of baths per year". I've rounded it off because writing the precise number would be ridiculous, and also rounded it down because I'll probably end up having fewer baths than that. But it's potentially a huge underestimate if I live longer than my allotted years, or a huge overestimate if I fall ill, move house or simply change my habits.
One of the main reasons I have a lot of baths is that I don't have a shower. My landlord never installed one so for the last 25 years baths have been the only viable option. I used to have a shower in my previous flat and under those circumstances I took a shower maybe three times more often than running a bath. Given the choice, my showernumber would probably be higher than my bathnumber. But when I have the time I totally prefer a bath over a shower, and given I don't have the latter it's just as well I have the time.
What I don't know is how much longer I'll be living in this flat. My landlord could decide to kick me out in a few months or could let me stay forever, I have no current idea. Who knows where I'd end up next, but if it had a shower I might end up taking far more of them, and if it didn't have a bath my bathnumber would drop dramatically. My landlord might also suddenly decide to install a shower in my current flat, which seems unlikely given he's had 25 years and never has, but it can't be completely ruled out.
What I also don't know is whether my bathing habits will change. I used to run a bath every morning before I went to work and now I don't, so that's nudged my bathnumber down. If energy bills tripled I might decide that taking fewer baths was a good economy measure. If the climate changes I might choose to have more baths, or I might choose to take fewer, depending. And crucially I might one day move in with someone else, either because I want to or because I have to, at which point their bathing habits would start to significantly affect my own.
What I really don't know is how my health might change. At the moment hopping in and out of the bathtub is easy but that may not always be the case which could limit my bathnumber pretty sharpish. There may come a day when I simply can't get in any more, or when nobody else is willing to lower me in instead. That might not end bathtimes completely, because who's to say I won't end up with one of those special accessible baths they advertise in Sunday supplements and in the commercial breaks on Countdown? But a huge variety of medical events could well take away my bathing choices, either over a declining period or suddenly, abruptly, bringing about The Last Bath I Will Ever Take far sooner than I'd like.
I can't take these factors in isolation, I should expect them to combine. I might move to a house with a shower AND find I can't I can't get into a bath like I could, in which case my bathnumber would plummet. Or I might enter a new relationship AND decide to bathe more often in their snazzy tub with jets, which would significantly elevate my bathnumber instead. The options and combinations are far too complex to predict, however likely I might think a certain total now is.
Thinking more generally about this, your bathnumber is most strongly influenced by two factors...
...whether you want to have a bath and whether you can.
want
If you're a shower person rather than a bath person your bathnumber will be lower.
If you feel the need to wash more frequently your bathnumber will be higher.
etc
can
If you can't get into a bath any more your bathnumber will be lower.
If you don't have a shower in your house your bathnumber will be higher.
etc
Your bathnumber is also very closely associated with 'the last bath you will ever have'.
It might still be decades away, in which case you could rack up thousands of baths before the final soak. Or it might come early, it might come unexpectedly, indeed it might come tomorrow (although let's hope that it doesn't). And just because it might be close doesn't necessarily mean your future total is low. A tub lover with failing health, for example, might still have a much higher bathnumber than a shower fanatic with decades to live.
Also bear in mind the possibility of an unexpected bath here and there, even in an unpromising future. Who's to say you won't find yourself in a hotel one day with the most appealing bathroom ceramics, or that a nurse won't one day lower you into a warm bath when you thought you might never have one again. The future is unwritten and there are all kinds of scenarios in which one-off baths still happen, or indeed entire changes of bathtub circumstance.
Conversely an uncertain future could always terminate your ablutions in an entirely unexpected manner, reducing your bathnumber overnight. What if in 2027 power cuts knock out your boiler, or in 2028 droughts get critical, or in 2029 the successor body to Thames Water outlaws baths entirely, or in 2030 bubblebath is found to cause cancer, or in 2031 your home burns down, or in 2032 you win the lottery, or in 2033 weather conditions dramatically deteriorate, or in 2034 the American President drops an atomic bomb on Manchester, or in 2035 AI takes over and reduces humanity to slaves, or in 2036 aliens arrive and turn us all to grey goo?
Obviously that won't happen, probably, but it's the wider uncertainty of external events that makes bathnumbers so potentially volatile. The chance of your personal circumstances being identical in 10 years' time is low, in 20 years even lower, and generally that means a lower bathnumber than otherwise anticipated. For example my own bathnumber is likely lower than the 4000 I originally estimated, perhaps markedly so, dammit.
In summary, then...
• Not everybody likes baths and not everyone can have them
• Your bathnumber is all about how many baths you fit in before The Last Bath You Ever Have
• Your bathnumber is proportional to the variability of your future
• Your bathnumber almost certainly won't be what you expect it to be
I'm not suggesting that on your deathbed you'll think "oh, so it was 2167 after all", only that it's a theoretical possibility. I'm certainly not proposing that you count all your future baths, merely to confirm what today's total really was.
But I am suggesting that estimating your bathnumber is an intriguing way to consider your habits, your circumstances, your health, your mortality and the the unpredictability of your future. There are no certainties here.
Also be aware that your bathnumber is a decreasing function, so every time you climb into a nice warm bath it drops by one.
You have a finite number of baths in your future. And one day that bathnumber will be fixed.
As we head towards the awkward end of the alphabet London's suburban pickings get slimmer. I discounted Upney as too well known, Upper Belvedere as too focused and Uxendon as too obscure, instead plumping for a decent-sized U with an ultra-prosaic name. This Barnet neighbourhood is so named for the exceptionally obvious reason that it's under a hill, this hill, hence Underhill.
In the stagecoach era Barnet Hill was one of the first major obstacles on the Great North Road, thus a number of coaching inns were established up top as an ideal place to change the horses. In the 1720s another was built at the bottom, this the Old Red Lion, where additional horses known as the 'Hercules Pair' could be hired to assist with the challenging ascent. In 1823 Thomas Telford was charged with making improvements, his solution to bypass the steepest climb by digging up a huge amount of adjacent soil to create the gentler embankment we see today. A small hamlet grew up around the pub, this called Underhill, until eventually cars replaced carriages and houses replaced fields. Suburbanisation was kickstarted by the arrival of a railway terminus across the street in 1872, now the top end of the Northern line. The station served the town above so was called High Barnet, but in terms of contours it'd more appropriately be called Underhill because it is.
In the 1930s the Red Lion was repurposed and rebuilt as an estate pub, and remained a tenable business until 2015 when the owners gave nine days notice of closure. It was pretty soon replaced by a terrace of six modern brick townhouses, which took ages to sell, and alas even the inn sign was swiftly uprooted so no evidence of the historic watering hole remains. What killed pub viability was the local football team moving out, this being Barnet FC who were established just round the corner in 1907. Underhill Stadium was always a lowly affair, the kind of place where black and gold souvenirs were sold from a portakabin and the grandstands were made from corrugated metal. Facilities became increasingly inadequate when the team found themselves in Division Two, so when negotiations over the lease became fractious the chairman decided to move the club to a fresh site in the borough of Harrow instead. The Underhill site was duly sold on to become the Ark Pioneer Academy, thus headteacher Su now oversees 1100 pupils where The Bees once thrashed Burton Albion ten nil.
The alleyway down the side of the stadium remains, that's Priory Grove. It leads to a St John Ambulance depot and a former scout hut/community centre where you can now practice grappling, fighting and self-defence three nights a week. At the far end the path opens out into the top end of Barnet Playing Fields, immediately alongside the huge chunk the academy nicked for their sports pitches. Ridiculously Barnet FC now want to occupy most of the remainder to build a New Underhill stadium, having tired of The Hive in Canons Park in favour of returning to the town they're actually named after. If the mercurial chairman gets his way nine acres of green space would be replaced a 7000 seater, plus car park, plus coach park, leaving just a top wedge that's already part-sealed off due to an infestation of oak processionary moths. Thankfully the council refused planning permission last year, but the intention remains and we're only one decision away from a football reinfestation instead.
For now the playing fields are mostly used for kickabouts, playgrounds, sports practice and walking your dog round the perimeter paths. The Barnet Table Tennis Centre is also here, in case you'd ever wondered where that is. The grass stretches down to a meandering tree-line boundary within which flows the Dollis Brook. It's relatively minor here, no more than about two metres wide, but its waters were still capable of scouring the incredibly obvious valley on whose slopes Underhill rests. One thin stripe of suburbia was squeezed between the playing fields and railway in 1933, including an arc of 16 brick almshouses overlooking the greensward. The estate is an isolated dead end so TfL kindly send an hourly bus to the bottom and back, this the 389, London's shortest route and 2nd-least used service. I can confirm it now uses electric vehicles (a real step-up from the muck they used to send out), also the driver has to negotiate some very closely parked vehicles at the foot of the hill, also the loop had at least six passengers yesterday.
All of this area is classic Underhill, and the wording on a modern Ordnance Survey map would agree. But over the last century the name has also crept west along the only road to precede development which is Mays Lane. This once tracked all the way to Arkley at a safe distance from the river, serving a sparse handful of cottages and a couple of farms. Some of the fields near Underhill once hosted the biannual BarnetFair, a livestock jamboree established in 1588 which by the mid 19th-century was said to be England's largest cattle market. Later horse racing became the priority but that ended when High Barnet station swallowed up the site, and these days the event is probably best known as rhyming slang for hair, even with the 'Fair' left unsaid. The other pre-suburban intrusion, this time south of Mays Lane, was a sewage farm established in 1874 to help remove High Barnet's effluent. This survived until 1957, for many years supporting the fertilisation of plots of oats and vegetables, after which the Dollis Valley housing estate was built across the site and oh my word.
They built 600 homes here in the 1960s, the most appealing being the lowrise three-bedders closest to the river. These were arranged to take full advantage of the green setting with front gardens opening onto the meadow, hiding all the ugly garages and road access round the back. The remainder of the accommodation was in long five-storey blocks of flats, these having aged far less well to the extent that the council is sequentially replacing them with something modern. There are now eight streets of sleek brick townhouses, desirable as anything, one of which has the impossible name of Unicorn View. But once you get halfway down the estate the last phase of concrete flats remains, decanted and decaying, because council and developer fell out over affordability quotas. Some inadequate understanding has been reached, but for now to walk down Dollis Brook Drive is to experience all aspects of postwar housing in one depressing sweep. The interface from whipsmart to derelict is particularly sharp, suddenly entering a world of dumped mattresses and damp curtains behind smashed glass, beyond which the secluded setting of the riverside homes is grimly diminished.
Hundreds of Underhill's older houses stretch down several steep avenues to the north of Mays Lane, these your more typical interwar semis. They run in parallel and are inadequately connected, in one case enclosing a long stripe of tennis courts accessible only from top and bottom. Manor Road came first and thus leads to Underhill's commercial heart, a row of six shops including Mays Lane's Co-op. The quirkiest is Coopers of Barnet, a true Aladdin's cave of hardware including garden tools, haberdashery, suitcases and every hue of plastic container strewn across the pavement. Almost as offbeat is May's Pet's, an infuriatingly-apostrophied grooming parlour and treat shop, where the traditional small ads in the window include a plug for Louise's Avon catalogue and an irresistible plea... Can You Offer A Home For A Few Stick Insects A Fascinating Low Maintenance Pet Come In The Shop And Meet Them. I can also confirm that at The Local Offey the lottery is working now, and this is why you should always shop local.
I did wonder if this could still be Underhill, being over half a mile from The Old Red Lion, but one of the other shops is the Underhill Barbers so yes it definitely can. Even more convincingly the neighbouring establishment is Underhill School and has been since 1932, where they fully embrace the letter U with a stated ethos of Understand · Uplift · Unite. It seems the Underhill name has spread far along the valley, this because it's still appropriate for thousands of residents who have to schlep up a steep-ish slope to reach the proper shops and services up top in High Barnet. But if you go too much further along Mays Lane the neighbourhood definitely become Ducks Island instead, a completely different suburb and very much non-U, so best stop here.
Here's something you won't be able to do in a couple of weeks time.
Ride a bus down Oxford Street.
Pedestrianisation begins on Monday 26th October, with buses removed forever on the evening of Sunday 25th.
So I've been out to do it now, before I never can again.
Importantly it's not the whole of Oxford Street, only the middle half from Selfridges to Great Portland Street, but that is the key shopping bit and includes both sides of Oxford Circus. n.b. I did a full analysis of the changes in November so won't repeat myself but you can read more detail there, or see the consultation here.
You can get a preview of the upcoming Mayoral tubthumping campaign by looking at the posters plastered over the corner of Oxford Circus station.
» One says Oxford Street. But Better.
» One says More Street. Less Road.
» One says Good News Speed Walkers.
» One says The Crowds Are Staying. The Traffic Isn't.
» And one says "Busy ol' street isn't it? Bag-laden shoppers flowing past stores with a dizzying choice of trainers. Caffeine-deficient commuters making beelines to chains that sound French but aren't. Tourists suddenly stopping to eye tiny souvenir models of Big Ben. Ever thought it'd be better with... more space? Space to stroll. Space to saunter, even. Space to avoid even the most stubborn of pigeons. Great idea! Let's do that. A new pedestrianised Oxford Street is on the way. Less traffic. More space. Still busy, just better." Sheesh.
It should be great for pedestrians and for businesses seeking better footfall, all arriving just in time for Christmas. But it won't be good for taxis, bicycles or buses, all of which will be prohibited from passing through and forced to find an alternative route.
I'm particularly interested in how bus timings are going to be affected.
And to measure that properly you need data from before the change as well as data after.
I have thus been out with a stopwatch to see how long buses currently take to drive down the affected stretch.
And I'll go back afterwards to see if it's a bit worse or a lot worse.
At present routes 7, 94, 98, 139 and 390 use central Oxford Stret, stopping outside John Lewis and Selfridges.
In future two routes are being cut back to Marble Arch to get them out of the way, and three will need to be diverted.
The diversions will go via five different streets rather than one, so you'd expect slower journeys in future.
What I did
• I went to Oxford Street late on a weekday morning.
• I rode the 94, 98, 139 and 390 in both directions, eight journeys in total.
• I rode from the stop before the closure to the stop after.
• I timed the journey and counted how many times a red light stopped us.
98
east
Marble Arch → M&S
1.3km
7m 40s
(5 red lights)
390
east
Marble Arch → M&S
1.3km
7m 00s
(5 red lights)
98
west
M&S → Marble Arch
1.2km
10m 10s
(8 red lights)
390
west
M&S → Marble Arch
1.4km
9m 50s
(8 red lights)
These are the buses that stay on Oxford Street, not Regent Street.
On average it took 7 minutes to go east and 10 minutes to go west.
The difference is almost entirely explained by the queue to get through the traffic lights at Oxford Circus. Westbound traffic only gets 10 seconds to slip through, significantly less than other directions, then it's 1½ minutes before the lights go green again. On my journeys it took three attempts to get through these lights, then the experience was much the same in both directions. Without this snarl-up it would have been 7-8 minutes both ways.
94
east
Marble Arch → Hamleys
1.1km
8m 10s
(5 red lights)
139
east
Portman Sq → Hamleys
1.3km
8m 30s
(7 red lights)
94
west
Hamleys → Marble Arch
1.1km
8m 10s
(8 red lights)
139
west
Hamleys → Portman Sq
1.9km
12m 20s
(10 red lights)
These are the buses that turn into Regent Street at Oxford Circus.
On average, if we ignore the outlier, it took 8 minutes to make these journeys.
The outlier is the 139 heading west because its bus stops are stupid. For some reason the 139 doesn't stop by Oxford Circus, only halfway down Regent Street, so the stop before the imminent closure is a long way away. I suspect this made sense before TfL rationalised the bus stops on Oxford Street because you could get off just round the corner. Now you can't, and it's definitely annoying for passengers who ding the bell by the Apple Store but are unable to get off. It's going to be even more annoying when Oxford Street closes because there'll then be a 900m gap from Regent Street to Henrietta Place, and if that doesn't really piss off thousands of future tourists I'll be amazed.
I'm aware that this is not especially reliable data. It's all down to traffic conditions and passenger numbers, also the luck of the draw with a dozen traffic lights. For example one of my journeys was delayed by a passing fire engine, several by taxis picking up passengers and two had the wheelchair ramp deployed. That said one of the wheelchair rides was the shortest journey of the lot, so anomalies don't always muddy the timings. Also I only made eight journeys and for really reliable data you'd want to do a lot more, but I spent two hours of my life on this and quite frankly eight journeys was enough. Also I did end up with some relatively consistent results so I'm happy I did enough.
My conclusion then is that in decent traffic conditions it currently takes about 7-8 minutes to ride this part of Oxford Street. I can now use this fact later in the month to compare with timings after the closure and see what's happened, even if that means riding lots more buses on tortuous routes several more times.
Before then TfL have further roadworks to undertake, not to beautify the pedestrianised strip but just to make sure the traffic changes work. They have four new bus stops to add to replace the four being de-bussed. They have extra bus stands to add up several side streets. They have new signs to fix, roads to block and taxi ranks to shift, and the follow-up may take some time. Their Oxford Street works webpage says "disruption will be kept to a minimum, with limited works during the Christmas period", so don't expect to see the final results until well into next year.
But if you want to ride a bus to see the Christmas lights sorry, the road will be closing before they're switched on, so the best you can see is some dangling stars and you've only got two more weeks for the experience.
Welcome to Heathrow but the side most passengers never see, the cargo-loading logistics backside. Past massive secure sheds trading whatever, first on the local Bedfont Road then switching to the more circuitous Southern Perimeter Road. Two rivers run parallel for a mile and a half, the Longford and the Duke of Northumberland's, each shamelessly shifted out of the way by airport construction. Walk along or walk between, perhaps pausing for refreshment at The Rising Sun or Esso garage, as global jet engines scream alongside.
These roads aren't made for pedestrians - if not aiming for Spout Lane why would you even be here? The Poyle Interchange includes the westernmost point in Greater London, then it's time to follow the M25's clockwise carriageway as far as the M4 stack interchange. The Bigley Ditch threads through in tiny meanders, first the river's former course and then the unengineered original, at least until a Third Runway erases the lot. Maysfield Lake, Thorney Mill, Fray's Island. Across the Slough Arm of the Grand Union and around a GB-shaped lake called Little Britain. Never the main River Colne, always a separate braid, here along the industrial backway into Uxbridge.
A brief buzz beside The Swan & Bottle, a stone's throw from the High Street, then off down the appropriately-named Shire Ditch. On crossing the A40 it's time to leave suburbia behind, it's now all meadows, former gravel pits and floodables. Here are Denham Country Park, vast lakes and, swinging in from the right, the sleek viaduct of future HS2. So few ways in or out unless you're waterfowl, until footbridges at Black Jack's Mill finally offer a hill to climb to Harefield. Canoe slalom by The Coy Carp at Coppermill, also office space to hire, also finally a snatch of canal towpath. At the sewage works bear off round Springwell Lake to get ridiculously close to Rickmansworth, then at Mill End cut back across heron-infested Stocker's Lake.
Here ends twelve miles spent tracking waterways, the Colne having provided an ideal western boundary for the capital. Now once again it's woods and paddocks, fields and farms, regaining vehicular connectivity at Woodcock Hill. Around Bishop's Wood and right up close to Mount Vernon Hospital, although mainly the car parks. From Batchworth Heath an ancient footpath has somehow been preserved amid Metro-land avenues, weaving two miles east between trees, school playgrounds and endless wooden fences. Initially Northwood then more rightly Northwood Hills, rising to 134m at the summit of Potter Street Hill.
Harrow
Coal tax post, private road to Pinner Hill golf course, "you are being recorded by security cameras". To one side is the first hole (a par 5) and to the other the southernmost wedge of beechy Oxhey Woods. The London Loop is now up to section 14, slipping through a wooden gate to dodge South Oxhey's patriotic council estate in favour of stud farm and livery.
Pylons emerge from Hatch End substation in three directions, one across the West Coast Mainline towards Oxhey Lane. Three holes at the Grims Dyke golf club have a tee in Middlesex and a hole in London, while three others swing vice versa. Then yet another golf course at Hartsbourne, no splits this time, before careering into the top of the common at Bushey Heath. The top of Stanmore Hill, also the very last London postcode alphabetically speaking which is WD23 1NX. The top of Stanmore Common, first the woody bit then open heathland that can be an excellent viewpoint. Listen to the roar of the M1 motorway, here running parallel to the A41, past Centennial Park to J4 at Elstree.
Barnet
A mile spent just off the M1's hard shoulder, at least as far as Scratchwood woods if not Scratchwood services. A nudge towards Borehamwood, splitting a static caravan park diagonally in half. Big Morrisons. At Stirling Corner an unexpected bend north up the A1 to encompass Rowley Green and Arkley, borderline attractions including a driving range, Poor Clare Monastery and an ice cream farm. Keeping a decent distance from Chipping Barnet, merely a bump past Byng Road Fields and yet more golf courses, these the 14th and 15th on the perimeter so far. Barroneau's has become the dog meadow at Wrotham Park. At Hadley Highstone, somewhere in the valley of the Monken Mead Brook, is the site of the Battle of Barnet.
Enfield
Welcome to Hadley Wood, though skirting the playing field to climb to the cottages on Waggon Road. Sheer woodland drop above the East Coast Mainline burrowing beneath through 200 yards of tunnel. A return to proper open countryside along an arable footpath crossing Slopers Pond Farm. Next come Stagg Hill and The Ridgeway, both converging on the Potters Bar Interchange. And then, extremely simply, it's seven miles along the hard shoulder of the M25 motorway. A few woods, mostly fields, some of which are destined to become Crews Hill new town. The northernmost point in Greater London. Plantations, cemeteries, the age-old aqueduct of the New River.
A world class £700m film/TV studio campus across Theobald's Park Farm, except construction was officially scrapped last year. News International's enormous printworks, home to 19 triple-width Manroland full colour presses. The Holmesdale Tunnel with a lacklustre linear park on top, ending at the southern end of Waltham Cross High Street. Huge distribution centres, one for Tesco, one for Sainsbury's. And at the River Lea finally a watery turnoff, this following the Relief Channel rather than the Navigation. Gunpowder Park, Sewardstone Marsh, Patty Pool Mead. Here comes the largest reservoir in London, named after King George V because they finished it in 1913, which contains almost 7 billion kettlesworth.
Waltham Forest
A terrace called The Borders, outlier of the E4 postcode district. Gilwell Close, and indeed it is. A footpath climbing to the top of Yardley Hill, also the 379's circular Hail & Ride. Woods, mud, golf course, woods. A small bite out of Epping Forest, not including Chingford Plain. Primrose Woodmouse and, around Connaught Water, Mrs Crustybread. From the Cuckoo Brook to the River Ching, but at Whitehall Plain enough of that.
Redbridge
It's time to slice through Woodford Wells, unless these streets are actually Buckhurst Hill. An ancient trackway straight across Knighton Wood And Lords Bushes, the latter on the left. The junction where the Central line splits, then the anti-clockwise platform at Roding Valley where the shops aren't. All the way to the far end of the rugby ground before joining the River Roding and wiggling south from the manky footbridge. A near straight line across the M11 into one of the other Woodfords, the one with the Guide Dog Training Centre. Repton Park, the luxurious ex-psychiatric hospital with the viral swimming pool. The top of Tomswood Hill boasts a long distance panorama, then a sharp divide between smart detached piles and council streets. The periphery of the Limes Farm Estate, which Chigwell Urban District would have preferred not to build.
Cut-throughs to the tube, beyond which is the outer edge of Hainault's massive depot. Grange Hill station but this time the clockwise platform. A much modified boundary to accommodate all of Hainault's extensive postwar estate and none of the nice Essex lanes. There are still 25 miles to go but, astonishingly, Latchford Place is the last residential street. Instead a long bridleway pierces deep into Hainault Forest Country Park via the heavily wooded higher ground, to just beyond the summit of Cabin Hill.
Havering
The final borough, but it's a long one. First the 11th, 12th and 13th fairways at Hainault Forest Golf Club, then muddy fields north of Havering-atte-Bower. The fledgling River Rom is followed by Straights Plantation (which isn't quite). The lodge to Pyrgo Palace, then broad inaccessible fields to one of London's least-visited corners, the outskirts of Noak Hill. The boundary was once a complex weave along the Weald Brook but since the construction of the M25 simply follows the motorway for five miles, with just a brief indentation at J28 for Brentwood. Putwell Bridge, Gardens of Peace, Nags Head Lane Sewage Works. Footbridges on the alignment of former footpaths, built at great expense for hardly anyone. Round the outside of J29 for Cranham, then at the Southend Railway a perverse burst outside the M25 for the first and last time. Fields that could be mega data centres because Havering could hide them here and nobody would notice, indeed Thurrock have already squeezed in several solar farms.
The easternmost point in Greater London in a far-flung field just off Fen Lane. Back across the M25 in North Ockendon at Dennises Lane. Next the most contorted wiggle of all, first to take in just half of Belhus Wood Country Park as far as Running Water Brook, then back to Damyns Hall, then back on a quadruple twist through Cely Woods, and if people actually lived here they'd think it proper weird. The final golf course is Ingrebourne Links, the final park is Kennington, the final landfill is Aveley and the final car boot sale is Willow Farm. Nothing round here is contoured, or indeed lovely. Multiple articulated lorries park offroad by the A13 Wennington interchange. Purfleet Industrial Park, then High Speed 1, then the line to Tilbury. One last thrust across Rainham Marshes, dodging the RSPB reserve to reach the Thames riverside at Aveley Bay which may be London's only beach.
An invisible line out to the centre of the estuary opposite Crayford Ness, but that's where we kicked off which means this 160 mile guided tour of the greater London boundary is complete.
From mid-Thames at Crayford Ness, skirt the Darent Industrial Park and head up Dartford Creek beneath the guillotine of the mighty flood barrier. One side Crayford Marshes, one side Dartford Marshes. Fork up the Cray rather than the Darent, then switch to the minor Stanham River. The first road crossed is the A206, the first two railway lines head to Dartford. Maiden Lane is the first suburban street (one side London one side Kent), while cars entering Gable Close are surveilled by the first ULEZ camera. Cross Watling Street to follow the backs of semi-detached gardens, not for the last time, then squeeze out through the lights on Station Road. Obviously Dartford council hides its tip here. Span the A2, old and new, then skirt the edge of Dartford Heath to the joys of Joydens Wood. A church, some deneholes and a two mile invisible zigzag through ancient woodland dodging the Fæsten Dic. Silence. Horses. Golf.
Bromley
A mile of Swanley Bypass, half a mile of Chatham Main Line, three miles of open fields. The start of the "how on earth is this actually London?" stretch, and more importantly "why?". A line drawn to keep Crockenhill outside and Crown Wood inside. Skeet Hill Lane, a lot of arable, then the divide between the hamlets of Maypole and Well Hill. Mostly paddocks all the way to J4 of the M25, the spur to Hewitts Roundabout. Knockholt station is not in Knockholt, also London Road ends at the border.
A pavement alongside the A21, then the recently-blogged cul-de-sac of Turnpike Drive in Pratt's Bottom. Horses Field is swiftly followed by Birthday Woods. Here comes the remotest section of the Greater London boundary, so distant from infrastructure that when I tried to visit every grid square in London I came here last. Coppices and stiles. New Years Lane and New Years Wood, between them a cottage with a trigger-happy barking dog. Field boundaries stalked by pylons and not by footpaths. Cudham Lane South where the R5 and R10 buses rarely stop to serve outliers who'd be stupid not to have a car. A sharp wooded drop down Hogtrough Hill. The ridge of the North Downs, a mile and a half with occasionally-excellent views and the odd reclusive bungalow.
Westerham Heights, the highest point in London, a stone's throw from the highest point in Kent. Garden centre facing off against Indian restaurant. An unnervingly quiet country lane where Kent becomes Surrey at a dip in Rag Hill. Paddocks and woodland on steep slopes dividing lower Tatsfield from upper Biggin Hill. Waran Food and Wine on Lusted Hall Lane, the first time in 20 miles it's been possible to buy a Mars Bar. Two farms, a detour round superfluous fields, then back north across hundreds of ploughed acres and woodland named after animals. Skid Hill Lane is home to the monthly Keston Gun Club Clay Shoot and absolutely nothing else and was once a Roman Road, hence its boundariness.
Croydon
The Greenwich Meridian crosses the playing fields of Meridian High School. The postwar suburb of New Addington, where Fairchildes Avenue is the only residential street to abut the Surrey boundary. Down Hutchinson's Bank to run parallel to Featherbed Lane within deep woodland. Well-hidden Scout camp offering archery, laser tag and a Tomahawk Instructor Course. Holes five and six of one golf course lead to hole 2 of another. Round Selsdon Wood, following Baker Boy Lane and Farleigh Border. Then Oaken Shaw, Mossyhill Shaw and Mosehill Shaw as this full-on rural excursion continues. Hamsey Green has a pond, the first decent shopping parade and the start of the London Loop's best section. Out onto Riddlesdown past a large secondary school and summer harvestables (the views!), then steeply down the side of a huge chalk quarry of geological importance. Public footpath level crossing on the East Grinstead line.
Across the dry valley (and the A22), then switch to the Caterham line almost as far as Whyteleafe station. Skirt the edge of Kenley Aerodrome behind three of the WW2 blast pens. The dividing line between where folk in Caterham-on-the-Hill live and where they walk their dogs, which is mainly the airfield and Coulsdon Common. Bus stop, coal tax post and Sea Cadets. Steep descent into Happy Valley - glorious! - then back up the other side into Piles Wood. Arbitrary right turn on bridleway straight across the lower reaches of an arable field to the southernmost point in Greater London.
On Ditches Lane a full mile along the hedge on the left-hand-side, dodging all the rat-running vehicles not expecting to see anybody here. Farthing Downs arguably has a better view than Happy Valley or Riddlesdown but alas the boundary heads downhill before the car park. Drive Road but not Pretty Lane. Straight across adjacent railway cuttings deep in chalk, funnelling the fast track to Brighton and the slow. Three stiles lead to a domain of very big detached houses, all securely on the Surrey side. Gateway to a private road, then the edge of Rickman Hill Rec and tumble down the Cinder Path to Chipstead Valley. The 434, the 166 and the 463, all separately demarcated. Narrow bridge beneath the Tattenham Corner line and along the back of the back gardens on Winifred Road.
Sutton
Around Prospect Plantation, tucking behind the Methodist Church before demarcating Corrigan Rec. The blandly-named Big Wood, opposite all the outlying playing fields a private school can muster. Inaccessible paddocks and greenhouses. Off-road bend to permit the Mayfield Lavender Fields to be part of Secret London. Bridleway between fields and golf course, then between women's prison and suburbia, then between Banstead Common and a cancer hub. Where the 280 terminates, opposite the station insufficient trains stop at. Paths into deep heathland or dental realignment, your choice. Along some Brighton Road to the start of a dual carriageway it's horrible to cross on foot. Two golf courses, only one of which is in Surrey because why should London always miss out? Huge houses named after golfing terms.
The almost-enclave of Cuddington, where Higher Drive is one of London's longest unbroken residential streets. Shabby lane with ancient lampposts. Playing field for rugger and cricket types. The wealthy backside of Cheam, whose residents may or may not stoop to drink at The Grumpy Mole. A woodland edge is the dividing line between ultra-historic Nonsuch Park and merely Cheam Rec. Another London Road, this time the A24. Suburban fringe where Sparrow Farm once stood, including perverse deviation to Richlands Avenue. A mile along the Epsom railway, the true division hereabouts, finally crossing just behind The Brook gastropub in Worcester Park.
Kingston
The Baptist church is in, the rest of The Avenue is out. A long unbroken run behind Highdown to not-quite Ophelia's stretch of the Hogsmill River. Tales of the riverbank, swinging behind a converted mill and a Toby Carvery along Old Malden Lane. Huge sports ground on floodable land where housing was never advised, including football pitches and a professional kart race circuit. Tolworth proper dodged in favour of Tolworth Court Meadows, field upon field of recently grazable space. Bear off down the Bonesgate Stream past skatepark, basketball court and semi-feral council estate.
Here beginneth the six mile circumnavigation of Chessington, mostly rural but with a short bungalowed burst to start. Castle Hill is ancient and small, Horton Country Park is huge and stretches all the way to luxury apartments in a former psychiatric hospital. The London side is a lengthy sequence of fields, so many of them stubbly post-harvest, the boundary delineated by the treeline of Ashtead Common. Coal tax post, inevitably. At the tip of the epiglottis is The Star, Malden Rushett's livelier pub, then curl back past a gun club, Telegraph Hill and the thick timbers of Princes Covert. Chessington World of Adventures comes clearly into earshot, but comes no closer than the foot of the car park.
Beyond the big lake a two-mile alignment to the Esher bypass, the actual A3, but only walkable it as far as the primary school. By now Chessington has become Hook, a sharp left turn at the allotments avoiding Hook Junction in a dash for Love Lane. Suburbia restarts, appropriately in Surbiton, here brushing up against the cul-de-sacs of Long Ditton. The boundary bulges around Victoria Park to ensure it's all the capital. The river is approached through Seething Wells, the former waterworks and current student accommodation also all on the London side. Cue the Thames...
Richmond
For almost four miles the edge of London is the middle of the Thames. First Hampton Court Park then the royal palace itself, chimneys a-dazzle, passing a couple of islands along the way. Hampton Court Bridge is the sole fixed crossing on the periphery, conveniently placed for the station, Turks Pier and The Mute Swan. Of the six islands in the stream, three are Surrey's and three aren't. The corner of Bushy Park is visible from St Alban's Riverside, though likely no deer, then it's Garrick country with his villa and Temple to Shakespeare. The Hampton Ferry ceases crossings after the clocks go back but the canoe club go out in all weathers. Reservoirs and water treatment works shield much of the Middlesex shore, then a row of waterside mansions mean the Thames is done and it's time to cut inland. This is still waterworks country so paths are few and fences secure, with only some of Kempton Nature Reserve occasionally accessible. The first half of the mile along the Shepperton railway is in Richmond...
Hounslow
...but beyond the Staines Reservoirs Aqueduct it's all Hounslow. Bunny Lane once ran alongside Kempton Park racecourse but that's long severed, sorry. The busy dual carriageway by the steam museum is about to transform into the M3, but instead slice past the layby cafe and follow the very minor Felthamhill Brook. Zigzag past Kenyngton Manor Rec and the rugby club to Groveley Hall, the hut where the 2nd Sunbury Guides hold court. Feltham's farthest-flung cul-de-sacs lead to the Chertsey Road and the Sunbury Research Centre, for many decades home to BP's research division (but they plan to move out next year). Straight across the corporate playing field, for now, then negotiate a former gravel pit past a dozen Ashford cul-de-sacs.
Bedfont Lakes Country Park comes in two parts entirely severed by the Staines-bound railway line and none shall cross. The South Side is humbler than the sprawling dogwalk paradise to the north, also it has the cafe and the owl sculpture. Beyond Clockhouse Lane are huge tessellating lakes, the boundary predating them so cutting across three. On the Staines Road a logistics hub with data centre, a mosque, a lowly cafe and the Mr Bubbles carwash. Then the full western perimeter of the hydrocarbon heaven that is Esso's West London Terminal, its field of smelly silos ideally located to serve Heathrow's greedy needs. But the airport's in Hillingdon, just across the Bedfont Road, which means we're now halfway round the entirety of Greater London... a good place to pause.
Yesterday I went to Forest Hill, Ewell, Cheam and Norbury.
It's only been a year since WH Smith's high street stores rebranded meaninglessly as TG Jones, but they've already started closing. This is what happens when venture capitalists rationalise their portfolio via a restructuring plan, they shut things, because it's not about community service it's about value for investors. Uxbridge went in July, Brixton in August, Greenford and Worcester Park in September, Pinner goes next Wednesday and Orpington and West Wickham later this month.
This is TG Jones in Forest Hill which was due to shut last week but has had a stay of execution until the end of the month. The upstairs Post Office will also have to close until somewhere else can be found for it, this the inevitable consequence of a policy that shacked up public service in private spaces.
It's a bit grim inside, although this may not solely be a result of impending closure. The range of available goods is somewhat limited, including not much stationery, a handful of jigsaws and one skipping rope. Diaries and Christmas cards are half price (though it's a very limited selection), whereas cards for landmark birthdays are fairly plentiful should you have one coming up. Even the confectionery rack is 20% off, although that may just reduce prices closer to normal. Magazines are however clearly labelled "not included in this clearance offer", plus good luck finding copies of Athletics Weekly, Women's Health or Airgun World once this place closes.
I spent a lot of time in Rickmansworth's WH Smiths when I was a child and much more in Watford's, hunting down a treasured book, treating myself to a geometry set or flicking through the singles and cassettes in the mezzanine record department. Alas Watford's TG Jones is closing on 27th January and Rickmansworth's closes on October 17th, so perhaps I ought to go back beforehand in case there are any local specials. Also remember that just because you no longer rely on these shops many people do, not least the staff who are about to be turfed out of a job. They sounded stoic in Forest Hill as they restocked the shelves, not publicly negative but you could tell something here wasn't right. Alas no longer Smith Nor Jones.
London's TG Jones Doomed: Cheam, Colliers Wood, Croydon, Eltham, Forest Hill, Harrow, Muswell Hill, Orpington, Pinner, Southgate, Streatham, Temple Fortune, Wandsworth, West Wickham Not yet doomed: Barnet, Beckenham, Bexleyheath, Brent Cross, Bromley, Chiswick, Ilford, Kingston, Lewisham, Richmond, Romford, Ruislip, Sutton, Teddington, Twickenham, Wallington, Westfield, Westfield
I hadn't spotted these two road signs in Ewell before. They're on the north site of the gyratory around Bourne Hall, the library complex that looks like a flying saucer. Several large ponds also exist here at the source of the Hogsmill, hence the abundance of wildfowl, hence two signs warning drivers not to run them over. Aww, aren't they cute?
But not official. The official roadsign for "Wild fowl likely to be in road ahead" is a single duck, as exemplified in the DfT's Traffic Signs Manual Diagram 551.2, with zero ducklings following after. Similarly the only animals to appear on approved roadsigns are cattle, horses, deer, frogs, ducks and hedgehogs, never swans and definitely not cygnets. Someone local has felt the need to add these convincing fakes, but when and why?
I checked on Streetview because this is a great way to answer various roadsign questions. The duck/duckling sign appeared sometime between 2012 and 2015, which is ages ago, whereas the swan/cygnet sign appeared between 2022 and 2024. Thus they're not contemporary they're a decade apart, which is intriguing. Even more intriguing is that the swan sign has been attached in front of another sign, that for 'frail pedestrians', entirely obscuring it. Someone has unilaterally decided that warning motorists about wildfowl is more important than warning motorists about old people and I would seriously question that decision, however lovable the cygnet sign is.
A new arrival on Cheam Broadway is this tanning salon.
It's called TAN-GERINE Tanning.
And I wouldn't have called it that.
Why make yourself bright orange?
When this blog started I used to have a feature called theCreativeLounge in which I invited readers to come up with clever and appropriate names for things. We did new planets, bottled waters, businesses in Diss, modern surnames, chemical elements, London Eye sponsorship, allsorts, just like we were a top-drawer marketing team. So let's see if we can do better with a name for a tanning salon...
Welcome to the Creative Lounge
Take a seat. Take a deep breath.
Now, try flexing your creative muscle...
I started you off, now I've added some of your best ideas. Any more?
Tanning salon names (appropriate)
Goldrush, Tan Tricks, Foxy Brown, Sun Deck, Glow Getters, Hot Tropic, Cheamgleam, Tan-go!, Umberland, Tanfastic, ?
Tanning salon names (inappropriate)
Bronze Meddle, Crispy Bakin', Golden Shower, Brown Nosing, Charredonay, Tan Gents, Let Us Spray, Mixed Grill, Melanomarama, Toast of the Town, Deep Fried Nice, Pay As You Burn, Trumptan, Brassed Off, ?
This is the display of crisps in the window in the front of Norbury Local at 1522 London Rd.
It's typical of many a minimarket cornershop, a wide choice of largish snackbags at quite high prices.
I'm particularly intrigued that some manufacturers now print prices in the corner of the bag, perhaps to ensure they make a profit, perhaps to stop the retailer adding too much of a mark-up, perhaps because people buy more crisps when it's clear how much they cost. But perhaps it's simply taking advantage of people who want a quick snack, because these prices are way above what you'd pay in a supermarket.
30g bag of McCoy's crisps here: £1.35 (4.5p per gram)
45g bag of McCoy's crisps at Waitrose: £1.25 (2.8p per gram)
6 25g bags of McCoy's crisps at Sainsbury: £1.75 (1.2p per gram)
70g bag of Walker's crisps here: £1.49 (2.1p per gram)
6 25g bags of Walker's crisps at Tesco: £1.75 (1.2p per gram)
70g bag of Doritos here: £1.49 (2.1p per gram)
150g bag of Doritos at Morrisons: £2.50 (1.7p per gram)
5 30g bags of Doritos at Asda: £2.15 (1.4p per gram)
Admittedly when you want a street snack you don't want to buy a multipack, but even so the mark-up on these crisps is pretty high for what's essentially an identical product, just a different size. Pay for convenience, pay over the odds.
Welcome to the Creative Lounge
