n.b. All the photos in this post were taken this week.
The Smudge of Remembrance
Art on the Underground is proud to announce an arresting manifestation of remembrance which will be on display in the run-up to Armistice Day, which is in one month's time. Ghostly poppies have manifested on the front of Tube trains across the Capital, presenting customers with repeated opportunities to reflect and resonate at this important time of the year.
This key project is called The Smudge of Remembrance and has been comprehensively curated to create spectral moments of commemoration firmly rooted in the everyday.
The ghost poppies appear as faint outlines and bleached patches on the front of Tube trains. All are different, the variety of form being the result of diverse artistic choices and complex maintenance histories.
Some iterations are almost complete in shape and remind us of the futility of war but also its underlying strength. Some are less structured and force us to confront the injuries of indiscriminate combat. Others exist only as faint evidence of imperceptible removal, just as the victims of war have been taken from us in cruel and damaging ways. Together they form a cohesive body of art that forces us to come to terms with the sacrifices of the armed forces across a global dimension and senseless loss of life on an unforeseen scale.
One of the best places to see The Smudge of Remembrance is on the front of District line and other sub-surface trains. Sharp grey blotches and grubby blurs have been carefully installed in full public view, halfway between the headlamps and directly beneath the cabin window. Customers waiting on the platform will thus become incrementally aware of the iconic double petal shape as the train approaches, inevitably musing on its deeper significance and perhaps reflecting on how these strange outlines could possibly have been created.
The Smudge of Remembrance is a long-planned art commission and has been undertaken with long-term objectives in mind. Engineers first created a poppy-shaped sticker and affixed it to the front of rolling stock almost one year ago. Their bright red colour often blended in with the front of the train helping to camouflage preparations for the current artwork. The key engineering decision was to use an adhesive that would not fully and conveniently detach from the metallic surface after use, thereby ensuring that scarring and damage to paintwork would be the inevitable result.
Customers wishing to view the Smudge of Remembrance should be aware that it is only visible on select trains on select lines.
Some of the finest deformation can be seen on the Central line where large uneven white fragments were created when the poppy-shaped stickers were removed. "It may look like chemical carelessness," said Alan Bants, TfL's Head of Adhesive-based Detachment. "But in fact we experimented for many sessions to determine the optimal viscosity to create maximum damage on the train's patina and I for one am thrilled by the result."
The ghost poppies on the Piccadilly line are even more numerous, yet simultaneously even more spectral. Initially you might not notice them but look closer and the pallid remnants of the original sticker are always visible, no matter how carefully train maintenance crews may have attempted to remove them. "This is our long-lasting artistic triumph," said Rizwana Hamid, TfL's Head of Sustainable Durability. "Our adhesive has caused such intrinsic damage to the underlying surface that not even a deep clean can completely remove it."
Not all District line trains feature ghost poppies - some have actually been cleaned properly since last year. These roll into stations with a near pristine red frontage demonstrating that The Smudge of Remembrance is not a cultural inevitability, more an institutional choice. But sufficient rolling stock has been insufficiently scrubbed over multiple cleaning opportunities that ghost poppies remain a tangible and ongoing presence across the network, even eleven months after the last Remembrance Day.
"We couldn't have done this without a fundamentally cavalier attitude to exterior train cleansing at an institutional level," said Binky Reynolds, TfL's Head of Budget Optimisation. "One decent scrub since January and all our hard work would have vanished. Instead trains are still rumbling around inadequately cleaned and so our hard-earned ghost poppies remain on view for all to see, delighting and challenging customers in equal measure."
TfL are always keen to slap poppies on the fronts of trains for a lengthy period in October and November because it would be highly disrespectful to our war dead to do otherwise. This focused fervour helped to ensure that last year's stickers were affixed without due thought for how they would be removed, and indeed whether they could be removed, leaving behind visual detritus that lingered long beyond Remembrancetide. A limited cleaning schedule imposed by insufficient resourcing has then retained these leftovers in situ and the Smudge of Remembrance is the result.
Londoners are encouraged to seek out The Smudge of Remembrance over the next few days, and to meditate upon the millions of lives sacrificed to war that these poignant images reflect. Like the original stickers they too were untimely ripped. But best hurry because the next slew of red poppies will no doubt be slapped on soon, covering over the ghostly scars until they too are inadequately removed and the whole messy art project goes round again.
Do you ever look at the front of a bus and think "where the hell is that?"?
Wood End is the epitome of a nondescript place name, two words that could apply to almost anywhere in the country, but is an actual place in actual London. It even has a library, or rather it did but we'll get to that. You'll find it west of Sudbury, north of Greenford, east of Northolt and south of South Harrow, if that helps.
10 Things To See and Do in Wood End(each Thing better than the Thing before it)
1) Grab a service wash at Wood End Launderette
This is bottom of the heap so it's not that exciting. But feel free to bring your mixed cottons and pillowslips to Wood End Laundrette at 123 Wood End Lane, and perhaps even plump for a service wash with post-tumble ironing thrown in. The smell of detergent wafts out across the corner of Russell Road, evocative of washday for anyone of an appropriate age. Had you been here 100 years ago this would have been the entrance to Wood End Green Farm, one of the three farms in the hamlet of Wood End, but that's long been obliterated by suburban development. Yes they do duvets.
2) Return a book to Wood End Library
The borough of Ealing ought to have 14 libraries but currently has 13 because Wood End library, beside Wood End Primary School, has closed. More accurately it's been demolished and is being replaced by a stack of 11 flats because Ealing council have housing targets. In good news there'll be a replacement library space on the ground floor, but in bad news it'll be a fifth of the previous size so a far lesser facility. In even worse news the hoardings outside say "due to be completed by late 2023" but all that's visible from the street is a concrete shell awaiting cladding because the construction company went bust, so any borrowed books could be massively overdue by the time it's eventually finished.
3) Visit the split recreation ground
When Wood End's suburban avenues were being laid out in the late 1920s, two arrowhead-shaped gaps were left surrounded by back gardens either side of Russell Road. In February 1928 Ealing Council bought these from Corporate Development Trust Limited and created twin recreation grounds, as can be confirmed by the blurb on the information board in the larger of the two. These days they're called Woodend West and Woodend East, each accessible only by footpath and with a scrap of playground and a patch of grass to enjoy. They form a mundane but most unusual pair, and pigeons may not be fed in either.
4) Catch the train to Islip
Wood End's very own railway station opened in 1926 as a spur to developing housing locally, a catalyst which patently worked. It was initially named ‘South Harrow & Roxeth’ before being changed to ‘Northolt Park’ in 1929 in recognition of a nearby place of interest frequented by tens of thousands of punters, which is Thing Number Nine so I won't reveal it yet. These days it's run by Chiltern who don't bother with anything as posh as station buildings, only a locked shed and a couple of shelters, nor do they bother stopping trains very often either. The least served destination is Islip with just one train on weekdays at 10.49pm, although Marylebone is likely where most locals escape to.
5) Buy one of Wood End's original cottages
Such was the impact of suburbanisation on rural Wood End that all that remains of the original hamlet is a single row of six cottages. These appeared halfway along Wood End Lane in 1906 and were named Wood End Cottages because there was nothing else to confuse them with at the time. Today they find themselves sandwiched between later semis at the widest part of the lane, by the 7-foot width restriction, and are the only homes hereabouts with bin-sized front gardens. The end cottage recently went on the market for £375,000 which feels somewhat excessive for a two-up two-down with less than 50m² floorspace but nothing else locally comes close.
6) Enjoy Curry Club at the Greenwood Hotel
Wood End has only two listed buildings, one of which is a large L-shaped estate pub built by Courage in the late 1930s. According to the Greenwood Hotel's citation the architecture "epitomises the restrained respectability of the suburbs in their inter-war heyday" and "the interior survives very well." Since 2016 it's been a Wetherspoons so most punters care more about the fact it's Curry Club tonight than the fireplaces, cornices and panelling, but at least the place is being looked after and as a public house it has zero competition locally.
7) Shop til you drop at Oldfields Circus
Wood End has a half-decent shopping parade, at least in terms of size and breadth if not necessarily quality. It bears off from half a leafy roundabout, is topped by 30s-style flats and includes one of London's many chippies called The Codfather. The largest shop is a Polish delicatessen, indeed there's an Eastern European flavour to several outlets, but also an Irish butchers, a Turkish takeaway and a Scotch-based off-licence. Morgan's Office Furniture is piled high with upturned chairs on top of other chairs, all the way to the back, while Golden Crust Bakery looks to be a proper throwback of hot buns and filled rolls that thankfully hasn't been Wenzel-ed yet.
8) Enjoy the view from Wood End Wireless Station
By WW2 the whole of Wood End was housing apart from a large patch on the hilltop which had been occupied by an RAF radio station in 1926. Most of that land has since succumbed to become a loop of townhouses but a small park remains in the centre, a greenspace known as Woodend Wireless Station, still with two serious-looking communications towers locked away at the summit. As a place to exercise your dog it's proper unusual. A sign on the compound confirms this is still used by Air Traffic Control and is known as Greenford Tx Comms Station. I suspect it's related to nearby RAF Northolt but from the top of the slope the procession of planes descending into Heathrow is clearly seen so maybe it's of wider strategic importance.
9) Visit the racetrack where George Formby rode Lucky Bert
The UK's first Pony Racing course opened here in 1929, complete with Art Decograndstand and a 1½ mile grass circuit. This looped through the former fields of Wood End Farm but they called it Northolt Park, hence the name of the station back in Thing Number Four. After a slow start it became ridiculously popular, drawing in half a million punters in 1938, some of whom came to see ex-jockey George Formby run an exhibition race, but the owners over-reached and sadly went bankrupt. After WW2 the government requisitioned the land for housing and created the Racecourse Estate, so all you can still see today are two strips of parkland and the original gates at the entrance to Dabbs Hill Lane. I could write more but northoltparkracecourse.wordpress.com has already sewn that up in brilliant detail so read that.
10) See part of St Paul's Cathedral at St Barnabas St Barnabas is Wood End's other listed building, designed pre-WW2 but not completed until 1954 so somewhat of an architectural anachronism. It has a lofty brickbellcote, a polygonal baptistry and "the design is redolent with medievalism", apparently. Best of all the doors were open when I arrived so I went in and hunted for a very specific chunk of marble I'd researched online. I didn't find it but I did meet the vicar emerging from the vestry so I asked him where it was and he didn't know. "It's from St Paul's Cathedral and I read about it on your church website." Still no recognition. "It's in the baptistry set in the wall near the foundation stone." So we went and looked, peeking behind a board dotted with mission posters, and there it was embedded in the wall. Best of all there was a framed letter hanging underneath signed by C. A. Linge, Clerk of Works at St Paul's Cathedral, dated 20th April 1953.
I'm still not sure the vicar was particularly excited to discover he had a block of white marble from St Paul's embedded in his baptistry, but if that isn't the best thing in Wood End I don't know what is.
The square after Piccadilly on the Monopoly board isGO TO JAIL. The accompanying picture may show a police officer blowing a whistle but the person who actually sends you to jail is a judge in a court room, so today's post is about criminal courts in London.
Supreme Court
Top of the heap is the Supreme Court which is based in the former Middlesex Guildhall in Parliament Square. It hears civil and criminal cases and was established as recently as 2009. It also has fabulous carpets as I once discovered on an Open House visit. Had you been there yesterday you could have heard the judges ruling on the Dartmoor 'right to roam' case, but that's civil rather than criminal so I didn't go there.
Court of Appeal
Second in the pyramid is the Court of Appeal based at the Royal Courts of Justice in the Strand. It too hears civil and criminal cases and was established in 1875. Again it's a fabulous place to visit for Open House should you ever get the chance. Courts 6, 7 and 8 were in operation yesterday hearing cases including "Application for leave to appeal against a confiscation order" and "Pronouncement of an application for leave to appeal to the Supreme Court". They didn't appeal so I didn't go there either.
Crown Courts Second tier: Central Criminal Court (the Old Bailey) Third tier: Croydon, Harrow, Inner London (Newington), Isleworth, Kingston, Snaresbrook, Southwark, Wood Green, Woolwich
My photo shows Snaresbrook Crown Court which is the busiest Crown Court in the UK handling over 7000 cases a year. It's based in the former Wanstead Infant Orphan Asylum, a truly Gothic pile which later became Royal Wanstead School before being converted into a Crown Court in 1974. It's set in lovely lakeside grounds, which helped when they needed space to add a five-court annexe in 1988. I got as far as the front steps but decided against going in and taking a seat in a public gallery to watch heaven knows what.
Magistrates' Courts North: Barkingside, City of London, Ealing, Hendon, Highbury Corner, Romford, Stratford, Thames (Bow), Uxbridge, Westminster, Willesden South: Belmarsh, Bexley, Bromley, Croydon, Lavender Hill, Wimbledon
All criminal cases start out at a Magistrates' court, although many are passed up to Crown Courts sharpish. There are no juries here, only JPs, who can hand out sentences of up to twelve months or dole out fines. My photo shows Thames Magistrates Court on Bow Road because that's the one I've walked past thousands of times without ever going inside. Maybe I will one day, hopefully of my own volition, but I wasn't convinced observing the reprobates before the bench would be overly enlightening. So I went somewhere much more famous.
This is the Old Bailey, or to give it its official title the Central Criminal Court of England and Wales. It hears criminal cases from the London area as well as anything important that gets passed its way, often the biggest cases of the day. And anyone over the age of 14 is allowed to go inside, take a seat inside a courtroom and observe proceedings, so I did. But it isn't necessarily easy. Visitors face airline-style security on the way in, obviously, but additional strict rules require that "Cameras, Recording Equipment, Radios and Telephones" are not permitted. This means you can't turn up with a mobile phone on your person, nor is there anywhere to deposit one, and it did feel strange travelling from home with an empty pocket. The list of unacceptables also includes food, sweets, liquids, perfumes and large bags, plus (in a relatively recent update) vapes, smartwatches and Fitbits, so do check carefully first.
The Old Bailey has 18 courts spread across three floors. The first four are the ornate historic ones, these where the larger cases are heard, and are accessed via the main on-street entrance. But I skipped those in favour of the other fourteen, these stacked up in a 1970s annexe built on the site of Newgate Prison, because these offered a wider range of cases to observe. Their entrance is tucked away in Warwick Passage, a weekdays-only alleyway which passes underneath the court building, and which also tends to gather a smaller queue than the biggie round the front. It's not a particularly nice place to wait, especially without the distraction of a phone to scroll through, but at least it's dry if it rains. The red CLOSED light above the door is switched off at 10am when the door quietly opens (and turned on again at 12.40pm before lunch and 3.40pm before the end of the day).
The public entrance, quite frankly, is not up to a decent standard. Expect to hold the door open for whoever's behind you in the queue. Expect to wait at the foot of the staircase until called up, individually. Expect to turn your pockets out and maybe even remove your shoes at the top of the stairs, because none of this security was foreseen in the 1970s so they've had to squeeze the detector arch onto the first floor landing. Don't expect a waiting room, everyone gets to linger on one of three tiny landings or in the stairwell until called through into the appropriate corridor. And don't expect any obvious indication of what case is in what court, they mostly expect you to know in advance, which it turns out family members/friends/acquaintances of the accused generally do.
So which courtroom to visit? The day's cases at the Old Bailey are postedonline, generally a day in advance, so you can scan down in advance and see what takes your fancy. Blimey, I thought, it's that case that's been in the news, and that other case that's been in the news, and another, and another... though never for a good reason. It thus feels a bit odd waiting on the landing alongside those with a particular interest in each case (Dad? Grandma? gang boss?), especially when you don't have a smartphone and have subsequently forgotten precisely what's on where. I felt like a complete impostor and somewhat reticent to tie my colours to one particular case, but the court official swiftly spotted I was here as an independent observer and offered a couple of options - "ABH or attempted murder?" And then I was ushered inside.
It looks just like it does on the telly only with more people in the room. A long bench for the judge, a bank of desks for the barristers, a couple of rows for the jury and a glass box for the accused. The public gallery meanwhile hangs above it all, concealing where the witnesses sit underneath, although you're no longer allowed to sit in the front row I presume for security reasons. Observers are also expected to sit quietly and not make any kind of obvious movement, and to stick around for at least half an hour, so an usher sits up the far end to keep an eye. I wish I hadn't unintentionally sat on the slightly squeaky seat. I've done juryservice before so this wasn't all new to me but it was interesting to observe the discussions the judge and officials have before the twelve jurors filed in. All rise!
I'd turned up mid-trial during quite a complicated case, which was a bit like starting to watch a crime drama at episode three. I still don't know precisely what the accused did, only what the outcome was because I spent my morning listening to the testimony of an expert witness. They were utterly professional and very explicit as they addressed their comments to the jury and educated them on a particular topic as applied specifically to this case. I learned plenty. The prosecution lawyer was meticulous, her questioning style providing clarity, whereas the defence lawyer who followed was showier and it was hard to see what his point was. I enjoyed the moment where he mis-addressed the judge and she threw back a jokey barb and all the courtiers laughed.
But gosh it's slow work. The accused had already been here for days and faced several more, their boredom plain to see as the minutiae of their alleged handiwork was picked over. Punishment, it seems, starts long before sentencing. But they did have a tablet to fiddle with, indeed everyone in the court appeared to have a laptop or tablet, essentially to swipe through several pages of evidence and to make notes on. We spent a very long time looking at the images on page 81, then page 82, then going back to scrutinise page 81 again, all additionally displayed on screens around the court so everyone could see. Technology has certainly moved on since I sat on the jury benches with a pad of paper.
I was struck by quite how many people were needed to keep the show on the road. The bank of bewigged barristers outnumbered the jury, for example, despite only two of them having anything to contribute during the morning session. Everyone has to be present for everything, however long it lasts, which ties up a vast amount of expertise (and salaries) potentially for no reward. At one point the judge admitted that the Old Bailey has staffing problems at present and they were having to shuffle personnel around, which meant not every trial was proceeding as expected. Given how long ago the crime under her scrutiny had originated, it seemed evident that our legal system is struggling to move forward at a reasonable rate.
As the digital clock on the judge's bench ticked round towards 1pm, the stomach of the man sitting behind me in the gallery started rumbling uncontrollably. The defence lawyer apologised for not quite finishing with the expert witness, who'd now need to come back after lunch, and negotiations then took place regarding how many of the afternoon's potential witnesses could be realistically called. I spotted the accused yawning again before the call went up to clear the public gallery and I was back out again on the institutional staircase. I have no idea whether they'll ultimately be found guilty, nor did I feel the need to come back and sample more. But I was reassured that the Central Criminal Court is painstakingly picking through some of the more heinous cases our legal system has to offer, and if you want to go and see it happening then anybody can.
I was out in the City at lunchtime, not far from St Paul's, and found myself amid a horde of businessfolk buying lunch. They were flocking to nearby shops, mainly specialist food outlets, for a calorific haul to tide them over into the afternoon. You could tell it was peak lunchtime because many places had queues coming out of the door, each comprising smart folk in suits and jackets, shirts and brogues, trainers and pullovers, all the workwear tropes. Such patience. Then they strode back to their offices carrying trays and bowls, many in paper carrier bags, to eat at their desks while catching up on events or completing urgent work tasks. It never used to be like that.
In my day we had a canteen. It was on the top floor with its own kitchen and everything, even a chef (or at least a restaurant manager as the official title had it). We'd go up every lunchtime and pick a meal from the heavily-subsidised menu, then sit down in the dedicated space and discuss news, gossip and various fruit-based topics while we ate. It provided a proper break in the middle of the day, enhanced workforce cohesion and was also carefully nutritionally balanced to be good for you. Everyone loved it because the food was patently cheap. I loved it because it enabled me to have a proper meal in the middle of the day so I didn't need to cook when I got home. And my workplace loved it because it kept us in the building and generally back at our desks quicker than if we'd been let loose to buy food elsewhere.
Our canteen had a proper serving counter and a choice of main meals, one obviously vegetarian, plus a selection of cooked vegetables of diverse provenance to enhance variety. Chips only appeared on Fridays, always in combination with 'fish and', which I suspect gave cooking staff an easy end to the week. A separate counter offered lighter bites, a salad bar kept those with lighter palates satisfied and there was always soup if nothing else appealed (or if you had to be back at your desk sharpish). We took it very much for granted, muttering repeatedly about whether they'd given us enough potatoes, pouring an extra ladle of custard over the pudding and revelling once a year when they pulled out all the stops to deliver a proper Christmas dinner. But it didn't last.
The rot set in when a proper coffee shop opened on the ground floor. This started taking trade away from the canteen whose coffee was serviceable but not frothy, and although it wasn't direct lunchtime competition it must have had a considerable financial impact. Or perhaps the rot set in when they cut the number of non-veg main courses from two to one. This meant you either liked today's meal or you didn't, and that meant you were more likely to be unhappy and to start to look elsewhere. Or perhaps the rot set in more gradually as younger employees shunned the canteen in favour of spicy bowls and fried chicken purchased elsewhere, preferring choice over convenience, returning to eat their spoils at tables alongside those of us still loyal to a plated option.
There's no canteen at work these days, so I'm told, because a steady terminal decline set in. First they downgraded to lighter meals, enabling them to lose several staff, then it all went a bit soup, salad and sandwiches, then it vanished altogether. The pandemic won't have helped, nor the subsequent increase in working from home, making a subsidised workplace canteen too inefficient a use of company funds. And so 'going out for lunch' became the new default, there being no easy way to stay in, and my company's employees joined hordes of other companies' employees in the queues for rammed sourdough, spicy trays and noodly bowls. Palates have changed for sure, but the economic default has also moved on from in-house subsidy to full-price external traders.
I looked round Paternoster Square (where these photos were taken) and watched the suited crew queueing patiently wherever lunchtime food was offered. Queues at itsu, queues at Nusa, queues at Hop, all offering their own take on southeast Asian cuisine. Elsewhere Middle Eastern options, Indian options, Mexican options. Then Pret, Nero and Paul for wraps and baked goods, also Sainsburys and the Co-Op for the basics. The broad spread of outlets means you can easily join a different queue every day of the week, which is ace, but the queues are longer than anything my canteen generated and the price is higher too. I paid less than £4 for my proper sit down meal, admittedly several years ago, but you won't get even half a cold bowl of bits for that today.
Perhaps the absolute pinnacle of lunchmarket-targeting is Farmer J, an impressively generic purveyor of wholesome fare for worthy stomachs. Its signature dish is the 'fieldtray', a simply-compiled mix of base (rice, grains or salad), main (meat, salmon or vegetables) and two sides (e,g. kale, miso slaw or tahini aubergine). The end result isn't specific to any national cuisine, the multiplicity of options provides variety and all the vegetables are locally sourced. Presentation reminds me of an airline meal, and perhaps portion size too, but it slips back easily to the office and can be rapidly forked down. In fact it turns out 'Farmer J' is a former banker from Notting Hill called Jonathan who took a punt on the lunchtime market and hit the spot so it's all a carefully-constructed illusion, but at £12 a time a surprisingly successful one.
Obviously you could still make your own lunch at home and bring it in, but Tupperware doesn't impress folk these days and many consider all that preparation to be far too much effort. Obviously you could just buy sandwiches or a meal deal if you're on a budget, but then you get to look defeatist in the breakout zone surrounded by exotic tubs and bowls. Obviously some locations have proper streetfood rather than all this manufactured muck, but grabbing some kind of spicy package is more of a zeitgeist default than it ever used to be. And obviously some places still have canteens, especially the biggest workplaces, but nipping out for lunch is the new default amongst those who would previously have stayed in. And so we find thousands of hungry office workers thronging the streets, trays in hand or bags a-dangling, as the private sector cheerily soaks up the lunchtime market. You get a lot more choice without a canteen, but you pay a lot more for the privilege.
It's time once again to go on a pointlessly challenging train journey.
How many zone 1 stations can you travel through without repeating any?
That's the question. We're looking for the longest zone 1 journey with no repeated stations.
And there are 72 zone 1 stations altogether, so it's going to be a long journey.
It's perhaps best to think of the question as "which stations do you miss out?"
You can already see that Hoxton and Shoreditch High Street aren't going to be included because they're entirely isolated.
Also Tower Gateway and Fenchurch Street aren't going to work. Also you can only do Aldgate or Aldgate East, not both.
Also Pimlico/Vauxhall and Battersea Power Station/Nine Elms are very much dead ends, so you can't do those unless you start or end there. "unless you start or end there" is going to be quite important in what follows, so every time it comes up I'll replace it with an asterisk.
A few rules. Once you've been through a station you can't come back to it. Interchange can only take place at stations, walking between them is not allowed. Bank and Monument are different stations, as are Moorgate and Liverpool Street, as are the two Edgware Roads. In fact the Edgware Road thing doesn't matter because it's impossible to visit both of them*.
What's important strategically, it turns out, is stations that are only on one line. What's even more important is when three or more of these branch off from the same interchange. For example Holborn connects to Russell Square, Chancery Lane and Covent Garden but your route can only connect two of these*. Similarly at Notting Hill Gate you can't do all three of High Street Kensington, Bayswater and Queensway*, one has to be sacrificed.
I had a go at doing it and managed to visit 59 zone 1 stations. It took three and a half hours.
There's more than one way to do it, but I picked a route which ended in a newsworthy place so that my final photo would be interesting. And I started at Battersea Power Station for the aforementioned dead end reason. Deep breath.
Battersea Power Station: It's not ridiculously busy if you visit on a Sunday before all the shops open. 00:00Northern Thankfully I wanted the Charing Cross branch. Waterloo: First of the long interconnecting hikes. 00:09Bakerloo Fabulous, a forward-facing seat in a carriage all to myself. Elephant & Castle: Had to dodge past a slow pushchair on the stairs. 00:18Northern Rather a lot of Arsenal supporters on this train. London Bridge: Happy 25th birthday (today!) to the Jubilee line platforms which opened here on 7th October 1999. 00:25Jubilee ...although this journey wasn't possible until 20th November. Southwark: I'm the only person who turns right at the top of the escalators. Waterloo East: The two staff supervising the intermediate barriers - one tube, one rail - look very bored. 00:35Southeastern Managed to grab a seat after everyone from Strood had piled out. Charing Cross: In via the rail terminus, out via the tube. 00:47Northern One of the tube's shortest journeys so it would've been hugely quicker to walk. Embankment: They're still making that stupid platform announcement about taking off hats and scarves. 00:52District The number of Chelsea fans now exceeds the number of Arsenal fans. Victoria: Also a strong showing for purple-shirted NFL fans heading to Tottenham. 00:59Victoria That's the first hour done, with 15 stations visited.
Green Park: It's such a long twisty slog between platforms, almost hatefully so. 01:08Piccadilly Grrrr to the man with the rucksack and binbag who squeezed aboard at the last minute. Earl's Court: Maximum Chelsea density on the platforms here. 01:26District It took a while for an Edgware Road train to arrive. Notting Hill Gate: I unexpectedly found myself waiting alongside a vicar with a bagful of vestments. 01:35Central I decided to sacrifice Bayswater to get the three stations between here and Bond Street. Bond Street: These interconnecting Crossrail passageways are ridiculously long. 01:48Crossrail I initially expected to be riding a lot of purple trains but no, just the one. Paddington: For this challenge I'm counting Paddington as one tube station. It doesn't help to make it two. 01:53Bakerloo Obviously you go to Baker Street via Marylebone because that's one extra station. Baker Street: That's the second hour done, with 31 stations visited.
02:02Hammersmith & City I decided to sacrifice Regent's Park, although I could have gone that way and ended up somewhere different. King's Cross St Pancras: Managed to nip past a bloke with a guitar before he obstructed the escalator. 02:14Northern Squeezed in beside a young lad carrying a bouquet of tulips. Moorgate: Importantly I'm not using Crossrail so Moorgate is entirely distinct from Liverpool Street. 02:24Metropolitan Any of three lines would have done but this turned up first. Farringdon: Still not using Crossrail so Farringdon is entirely distinct from Barbican. 02:29Thameslink City Thameslink station is closed on Sundays but I passed through so I'm totally claiming it. Blackfriars: This interchange took five minutes because I alighted on the wrong side of the river. 02:43Circle The longest of all my tube journeys, curling lengthily through the City. Liverpool Street: That's the third hour done, with 47 stations visited.
03:00Central I didn't get a chance to sit down because Sundays are no longer quiet. Holborn: Chuffed to discover I still remember precisely where to be to alight opposite the platform exit. 03:09Piccadilly I didn't get a chance to sit down because Sundays are madness. Piccadilly Circus: Now mopping up the big name stations in the heart of the West End. 03:16Bakerloo A quick zip under Regent Street. Oxford Circus: It's never quick switching to the Central line here. 03:24Central We spent longer waiting at a red signal than travelling between stations. Tottenham Court Road: Ha, once again I was at the right end of the train for a swift exit. 03:28Northern My twenty-third train was my last, bringing the zone 1 challenge to a close. Euston: Oh that looks a lot better with the blazing giant advertising screen switched off.
Altogether I managed to visit 59 zone 1 stations in 3 hours 31 minutes without passing through any more than once.
It's probably easiest if I list all the zone 1 stations I didn't visit.
Didn't visit Impossible: Hoxton, Shoreditch High Street, Tower Gateway, Fenchurch Street Dead ends: Pimlico, Vauxhall Bypassed: Aldgate East, Edgware Road (District & Circle) Chose to ignore: Bayswater, Regent's Park, Russell Square, Sloane Square, Temple
I don't think 59 can be beaten although, as I said, there are other ways to do it.
Further stats
» I used all ten tube lines that were running yesterday and also three rail services.
» I spent 45% of my time on trains, 27% interchanging and 27% waiting on platforms.
» My average wait was 2 minutes.
» I walked 2½ miles (or 6500 steps).
» My phone says I climbed the equivalent of 45 flights of stairs.
As usual you have no need to do any of this, indeed I had no need to do any of it either. But I do now know how well zone 1 stations are connected, which is very well, even if you can't quite visit all of them.
Piccadilly leads from the West End to the west of town and is one of London's older roads. The eastern half was originally called Portugal Street and grew significantly in importance when Green Park was created, closing a previous road connection. The modern name comes from a tailor named Robert Baker who made his fortune in the 17th century selling a fashionable frilled collar called a piccadil, then spent that fortune on a big mansion on the outskirts of town nicknamed Pickadilly Hall. The street subsequently grew up posh and proper, ensuring that the final yellow on the Monopoly Board is both heritage-packed and very famous.
Indeed there's so much along Piccadilly that you could easily write a entire month of blogposts about it, which is exactly what I did in August 2004 so I'm not keen to churn through the whole lot again. What I will do, however, is cut and paste a few snippets from 2004 and take a look at what's changed over the last 20 years, starting here with this vinyl-based anachronism.
Piccadilly: "The street is numbered from Piccadilly Circus down to Hyde Park Corner and back again, from 1 (Tower Records) to 149 (Apsley House) on the north side and back from 150 (The Ritz) to 230 (Virgin Megastore) on the south." Now: 230 Piccadilly is now a Hard Rock Cafe. 1 Piccadilly remains empty.
Piccadilly Circus: "After Shaftesbury Avenue was built in 1886, tenants of the new buildings realised they could sell advertising space on their façades and so the area became famous for its illuminated advertising boards. It's a far cry from the first ad for Bovril (comprising just 600 light bulbs) to the mesmerising electronic displays to be found here today." Now: A dazzling digital display has curved across the top of Boots since 2017, occasionally entirely Coca-Cola based, occasionally segmentally luxurious.
The Criterion(224 Piccadilly): "Apart from the box office the whole of the Criterion Theatre lies underground, and the stage is currently home to the Reduced Shakespeare Company." Now: The current theatrical offering is I Wish You Well: The Gwyneth Paltrow Ski-Trial Musical, and I would argue tastes have gone downhill somewhat since 2004.
The first Lyons teashop(213 Piccadilly): "The fast food revolution started right here in 1894, when good service and fine quality ensured Joseph Lyons' teashops were an instant hit. 213 Piccadilly is now a dull boring British Airways travel shop." Now: Was consolidated into a modern development, the St James's Gateway Scheme, in 2013. Now occupied by Barbour International, the greenjacket floggers. Nothing of the original building remains.
Simpson of Piccadilly(203 Piccadilly): "Built in 1936 this six storey store sold traditional clothing for ladies and gentlemen with reverential customer service. Waterstones the booksellers moved in five years ago opening the largest book store in Europe - well worth a browse but somehow not quite the same as having your inside leg checked." Now: Still Waterstones, and although they've restructured the ground floor still very recognisable to a 2004 browser.
St James's Church(197 Piccadilly): "One of the few churches outside the City to be designed by Sir Christopher Wren. A couple of years ago I saw Dame Judy Dench buying her charity Christmas cards here. Respect." Now: A great place to hide in the event of a furious cloudburst, although smells somewhat of incense. The lunchtime food market in the churchyard sells global streetfood that millennial palates weren't yet ready for.
BAFTA(195 Piccadilly): "You'd never guess from outside that the 19th century facade houses two preview theatres at second floor level, one of which is big enough to seat 213 people. Members and their guests only thank you." Now: I finally got insidein 2015 when they held a hush-hush open weekend... up two marble staircases, past multiple replica bronze masks and into the boardroom where photographs of Bagpuss and newsreader Jon Snow adorned the walls. I doubt they're still there.
Hatchards(187 Piccadilly): "The oldest surviving booksellers in London, founded in 1797 and with customers including Disraeli, Oscar Wilde, Lord Byron and me. Visiting is reminiscent of being inside a rambling old house, with six floors of little rooms curling round a central staircase." Now: Unchanging. Still more than happy to sell you a hardback for the shelves in your study. Jeffrey Archer dropped by for a chat last week and left a pile of signed copies.
Fortnum & Mason(181 Piccadilly): "The ground floor of this grand retail outlet is full of exclusive foodstuffs, none of them in any way essential, all traditionally packaged (or at least that's what the tourists think), with the store's trademark duck-egg bluey-green prevalent throughout." Now: Has already nudged into Christmasmode because brandy biscuits and cognac butter won't go off. Hampers start from £100 and Advent Calendars peak at £390. Still employs a fawning footman to hold the side door open.
The Royal Academy(Burlington House): "The whole of Piccadilly used to be lined by palatial houses such as this but Burlington House is the only reminder of just how grand this street used to be. Really really grand." Now: The latest exhibition is a retrospective of the colourfully cartoonish works of Sir Michael Craig-Martin RA (also to be seen, more cheaply, on the walls of Woolwich Arsenal DLR).
French Railways House(178 Piccadilly): "Voulez-vous acheter un billet pour le voyage de train en France? Visite ici. Le bâtiment a été conçu par Erno Goldfinger, l'architecte célèbre avec un bureau dans Piccadilly." Now: Irrelevant in this digital age. Recently demolished and due to be replaced by a pastiche office block Erno would have spat at.
The Ritz(150 Piccadilly): The capital's most exclusive hotel, so the management would have you believe, towers over Piccadilly like a giant ocean liner. Take your pick from the Ritz Hotel, the Ritz Restaurant or the Ritz Club, and please don't forget to wear a tie (ladies, this probably doesn't apply to you). Now: Afternoon tea now costs £76, up from £32 in 2004, and will be rising to £79 in January. You do get six types of sandwich for that, including cucumber with cream cheese, dill and mint on granary bread, and egg mayonnaise with chopped shallots and watercress on brioche roll.
Green Park: "You couldn't fault this open space under the Trades Descriptions Act - it's green and it is indeed a park. Includes fine avenues of lime and plane trees plus a couple of fountains and a lot of deckchairs, but otherwise the park is pretty featureless." Now: Also famously flowerless, apart from the daffodils in spring and a carpet of bouquets should the monarch snuff it. Easier to reach since the tube station went step-free for the Olympics.
The In And Out Club(94 Piccadilly): Nicknamed the 'In and Out Club' because of the large black letters painted on the gate posts to help direct incoming traffic. Members moved out five years ago and the building was subsequently snapped up by an Arab buyer with plans to transform it into a 100-room hotel. Now: Astonishingly the building is still smothered under scaffolding (because conservation work is slow and painstaking). The planned hotel now has two extra rooms, plus seven super-prime private residences.
The Japanese Embassy(101 Piccadilly): "The only embassy on Piccadilly and home to His Excellency Mr Masaki Orita, Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary. You can also pop inside to view the Japanese art exhibited in the foyer gallery or make enquiries at the Japan Information and Cultural Centre." Now: Popping in now requires photo ID. Cultural activities moved to Japan House in Kensington in 2018. Mr Hayashi Hajime is the current AE&P.
The Hard Rock Cafe(134 Piccadilly): "The very first Hard Rock Cafe opened here in Piccadilly in 1971 when Americans Isaac Tigrett and Peter Morton opened up a glorified burger restaurant in an old car showroom close to Hyde Park Corner, slowly covering the walls with rock'n'roll ephemera." Now: Tourists flock, Londoners keep well away. Eric Clapton's red guitar remains on show. Foodstuffs on offer include Moving Mountains® Burgers, One Night In Bangkok Spicy Shrimp, Apple Cobbler and the Lionel Messi children's menu.
The InterContinental hotel(145 Piccadilly): "145 Piccadilly was bought by Albert and Liz Windsor in 1927. You probably know them better as King George VI and the Queen Mother, but at the time they were merely second in line to the throne and completely ignorant of their later destiny. Elizabeth II's first home is now the InterContinental Hotel, a particularly ugly 70s block which would look more at home in some eastern European capital." Now: I see now that the hotel was designed by Frederick Gibberd who planned Harlow New Town so I hate it less. All rooms are advertised as showcasing "quintessential London views" even if they only face the service yard, not Hyde Park.
Apsley House(149 Piccadilly): "This grand house was once the first to be encountered after the tollbooth at Knightsbridge and so earned the alternative address "No. 1 London". Wellington bought it after returning victorious from his military campaigns in France, seeking a London base from which to launch a glittering political career." Now: English Heritage still run the place but ticket prices have increased from £4.50 to £11.30. Out front Hyde Park Corner is just as chaotic but less exhaust-choked.
In good news the last entrance into the Olympic Park has finally opened. About time too.
This is the connection from Stratford High Street alongside the City Mill River. It was open during the Olympics and Paralympics as the 'Greenway Gate', the quiet way in at the southern end of the Park. And then on 9th September 2012 it closed and hasn't been open again until now, 4400 days later. Praise be.
The new link starts just beyond the bridge over the Waterworks River, where a broad shallow concrete ramp bears off from the Greenway and slopes down towards the railway. It's massive and has just been sitting there unused for ages. At the foot of the slope the City Mill River sneaks in beneath the Greenway, this the point where the original footpath emerged until it was sealed off (permanently) in 2007.
The way ahead passes under the Anglia mainline and showcases some splendid Victorian brickwork, smoothly arched. Here the river flows behind a metal guardrail and a strip of fluorescent lights has been installed, possibly a decade ago, making this a safe route for cycling even after dark. The path soon emerges into the Park close to the View Tube with a connection up to Sidings Street and with the Olympic Stadium immediately ahead. It's both a much-missed and long-awaited link.
In bad news another entrance into the Olympic Park has just closed.
It starts in exactly the same place. It's the almost-parallel southern entrance along the Waterworks River, the one that passes the allotments. This closed on Tuesday, I think to facilitate building works, I think for the long-delayed Bridgewater Triangle neighbourhood. If that's the case it could potentially be closed for years. I see they've already hacked down the vegetation beside the river.
It turns out the new entrance has been opened to mitigate the closure of the old entrance ensuring that Stratford High Street is still connected to the Olympic Park, just via a slightly different river. If we're very lucky they might leave both open when all these works are finished, but given past form I wouldn't raise your hopes.
Four months of major roadworks were supposed to begin at the Bow Roundabout on Monday. So how's that going?
Monday 30th September
No roadworks have begun.
Tuesday 1st October
Still bugger all.
I popped up to Old Ford to see what's happened with route 8 terminating one stop early. A temporary stand has been created at the Fish Island bus stop on Wick Lane, where I found three parked buses and another just arriving. Normally they'd have continued to Bow Garage and its proper layover facilities but drivers have no such luck until February. The Fish Island bus stop is closed, suggesting route 339 hasn't been able to stop here since 6th September. As yet absolutely none of this is necessary because the roadworks haven't started.
Wednesday 2nd October
32 temporary traffic lights have arrived. Half of them are in place and the other half remain plonked in the centre of the roundabout. All are covered with orange hoods, i.e. not yet operational. It looks like an electric forest.
The westbound Bow Flyover bus stop now has a yellow hood because it's officially closed. There is no reason for it to be closed because traffic is still passing unimpeded but they've closed it anyway. A poster says "Buses are not stopping here due to Urban Realm Work going on this Bus Stop", whatever that means. It's due to reopen at 6pm on Friday 29th November.
Thursday 3rd October (11am)
All 32 temporary traffic lights are now in place. None are in use. A contractors' enclosure has been created under the western arm of the flyover. Thus far it mostly contains plastic barriers and a portakabin. The contractor is Tarmac Kier JV. The highway upgrade is titled 'Bow Road Roundabout Phase One'. The end date is given as 16th January 2025.
Thursday 3rd October (11pm)
Ooh, workmen have laid out cones blocking one lane on every approach to the roundabout. Ah, this is because they're setting up the temporary traffic lights. A hardhatted bunch are tweaking a control box under the flyover to make sure the connections are set up properly. At this time of night no traffic is being slowed or disrupted.
Friday 4th October
Ah, they've removed all the cones and traffic is flowing freely again. All the temporary traffic lights are now connected by yellow wires at height. None are in use. No roadworks have begun. All the bus mitigation thus far has been pointless.
Bus mitigation that's thus far been pointless
• Reducing the frequency of route 25 (5 weeks)
• Reducing the frequency of route 205 (5 weeks)
• Reducing the frequency of route 276 (5 weeks)
• Reducing the frequency of route 277 (5 weeks)
• Reducing the frequency of route 425 (5 weeks)
• Curtailing services on route 8 to Old Ford (4 weeks)
• Closing Bus Stop OT (Fish Island) on route 339 (4 weeks?)
• Closing Bus Stop P (Bow Flyover) on routes 25, 108, 276, 425 and D8 (5 days)
And these are TfL-organised roadworks so they really ought to know what's going on.
In this series I'm taking the train one stop beyond the Greater London boundary, getting off and seeing what's there. Today that means Moor Park, one stop beyond Northwood on the Metropolitan line, a Hertfordshire halt which exists thanks to a golf club and is the only Underground station to serve a private residential estate. There's nothing ordinary about Moor Park.
John Betjeman summed up Moor Park perfectly in his seminal documentary Metro-land - a posh game of golf with a palatial clubhouse and a jobsworth gatekeeper restricting access to a plebby outsider. His duff tee shot was taken outside Moor Park Mansion, a Neo-Palladian pile built in the grounds of a Tudor palace called The More, hence the name. Prior to 1923 it was a true stately home, then Lord Leverhulme bought it and had the 18 hole course laid out across a hump of Capability Brown landscaping. If you fancy a round there's currently a waiting list for male members though not for women, or a hefty green fee for smartly dressed visitors. Alternatively volunteers from The Arts Society show groups round the mansion monthly, preceded by refreshments, though it's autumn now so not until next year. I've only ever followed the public footpath that crosses four fairways and that was unwelcoming enough.
But Moor Park isn't the golf club that earned the station, that was Sandy Lodge. This is the other side of the railway line and its creation was inspired by the sandy soil here which greatly appealed to links player J Francis Markes. Initially the Metropolitan Railway only deigned to give it a halt (Sandy Lodge), but then Lord Leverhulme sold them a lot of land for housing and so it gained a proper station (Moor Park & Sandy Lodge). The course still has its own exit, a lone staircase which emerges onto a footpath through woodland to emerge by the eighteenth green. The clubhouse is alongside, a rustic sprawl where the Captain parks at one end and the Lady Captain at the other. I would like to know how much the house across the road spends on topiary because their enormous hedges curve in absolutely pristine form, like someone popped out and strimmed them just this morning.
The station in its current form dates from 1961 when they four-platformed it. Many's the time my family switched to the fast trains to save a few precious minutes on the way up to London, but that tends not to work these days and the Marylebones haven't stopped here since 1993. The connecting subway is where many of the artworks from 2008's roundel centenary exhibition ended up, and judging by their faded state they show no sign of moving. The proper frontage is quite low key, like a sports pavilion with a slanted skylight, plus a looping drop-off zone where wives would once have released their stockbrokers. What you won't normally find is a single decker because private estates don't get public bus services, Moor Park never has, but here's a replacement bus for the tube that usually fills the gap.
Moor Park has a single brick-fronted parade of shops plus a separate chalet for an estate agent because property is king round here. Locals can enjoy a traditional butcher, a haute couture dress shop and a beauty lounge, plus two takeaways, a chemist and a post office. The Daily Mail takes top left position in the rack outside the newsagents, for what it's worth. The most important unit is the office of the estate management company, Moor Park (1958) Limited, whose influence can be felt on every street and on every sign across the neighbourhood. It's never just NO LITTER, it's always NO LITTER by order of Moor Park (1958) Ltd. This even stretches to the bays of parking spaces in front of the shops where Vehicles Must Clearly Display A Valid Green Moor Park Emblem In The Windscreen At All Times.
And what of the houses? Most are little mansions in themselves, detached very much the default, in cosy gabled style. When first put on the market in the 1920s they cost from £1000 to £3200 and were advertised as "blending utility of accommodation with attractiveness of elevation". Mains drainage, electric light and gas connections were all listed as plusses, as of course was the proximity to golf. Plots have never been permitted to be subdivided so the leafy avenues still feel spacious, almost timelocked, although a few modern palaces are scattered here and there. Nothing feels overly regimented, there being plenty of variety, and reassuringly nobody's locked behind the usual security gates because these are not permitted. Other rules firmly discourage all bonfires, forbid the use of solar panels if they can be seen from the roadway and prohibit the employment of professional gardeners between 1pm on Saturday and 8am on Monday. Parking is never a problem.
Pedestrians, however, are more of an afterthought. Moor Park (1958) Limited don't maintain pavements so residents are responsible for the verges in front of their houses and tend to prioritise their own driveways instead. Walking the streets thus can involve a lot of shingle and gravel underfoot, or indeed no path at all, the official advice then being to walk on the right side of the road. Drivers don't get it all their own way though, with a speed limit of 20mph imposed via ANPR cameras making calculations on entry and exit. These cameras have mostly taken the place of Metro-land's jobsworth border guards, but a liftable barrier remains in force at the western end of Sandy Lodge Road to deter cutters-through from Tolpits Lane or Rickmansworth. Here I spotted two security cars used for officious oversight, ready and waiting, both with the right to stop unauthorised vehicles not displaying that pesky green emblem and query the purpose of their visit.
As well as private golf courses and private housing the other major land use hereabouts is private schooling. Merchant Taylors' arrived in 1933 after four centuries in the City, attracted by the convenience of the Met line for ferrying in its pupils. Their establishment now covers 285 acres, most of which is covered by sports pitches as befits the ethos of a £8,922-a-term education. I see their first team thrashed us in the Cup at cricket last term so I hope we wreak appropriate revenge in the rugby next week. Their linked prep school is the other side of the railway, its pupils resplendent in their navy/tangerine striped blazers and blessed with a unique historical resource on site. This was the location of the aforementioned Manor of the More, a Tudor palace said to rival Hampton Court and where Catherine of Aragon lived after England's first divorce. Alas by 1598 it was all in ruins and now lies under a metre of imported topsoil beneath the school's outer sports pitches, so don't expect to see anything, even if you could see anything which you can't.
There are no parks in Moor Park because that would be an extravagance, but there is a long strip of sandy woodland alongside the railway line where dogs can be satisfactorily exercised. These trees also serve the not unimportant purpose of shielding the estate from passing trains, because it would never do for everyone else to know what was here. Moor Park is indeed easily ignored, and indeed necessarily avoided which is just the way the 1958 crew likes it. Were it not for the tube station it would be practically invisible, but then of course without that it wouldn't be here. "See how exclusive thine estate, Moor Park," as the Poet Laureate once said.
You know how when you come out of Canary Wharf tube station, main entrance, there's always been a big empty dock in front of you? Well, not any more.
A team of hardhatters and eco-engineers has been busy over the last few months and what's there now is a floating promenade surrounded by copious greenery and timber benching. It opened yesterday and is really very impressive. So long as you don't read anything about it.
What we have here is a wooden walkway just over 100 metres in length, and just a tad doglegged to give it some character. It allows you to step off the original dockside promenade and dawdle across the dock itself, maybe a metre above the water, via a series of larger pontoons. They've thought hard about access too so you can enter on the level, down a ramp or in a small lift as well as via steps. To either side are trees and flowers, some poking out of the water but the majority in little floating habitats, even adrift on the occasional island. Unsurprisingly it's already proving very popular.
There are a few benches below the DLR tracks, a larger bank of timber seating sprawled out to one side and a separate rack of seats resembling a grandstand facing the end of the dock. These are the ideal place to stop for a gossip, to sit and rest or (as I discovered when I turned up at lunchtime) to scoop a tub of food into your mouth while scrolling on your phone. During the first few weeks a dash of live music is being provided, yesterday a chanteuse called Charlotte wearing a red beret who strummed well-known standards for cheery foot-tapping. As interventions go it's going to be a huge hit.
For added wow they've added about 20 green sculptures in the shape of people, dotted here and there beside the walkways and out on the individual islands, each made from flowering shrubbery called ligustrum. The designers have also included several clusters of trumpet-like spotlights erupting from the water to aid passage after dusk, which should mean they don't have to lock the place away overnight. The barriers along the edge of the walkway are very low though, no more than ankle height, and I do wonder how long it'll be before someone has a very damp accident or a sign goes up saying children must be supervised.
You won't actually see any of this as you leave the tube station, however, because the largest bank of seating is elevated above the original dock wall and gets in the way. Rest assured that the fire exit from the Jubilee line is still down there, shielded below the highest platform, although the nearest security guard might shoot you a look if you show too much interest. A fair few security guards have been scattered about the place to keep decorum, plus on my visit a hi-vised chap with a very sniffy dog whose presence might have unnerved a few local traders.
What's impressive is how it already looks like it's always been here, like it was always meant to be.
It's hardly Eden, there are no apples for a start, neither is it an 'oasis' brimming over with sustainable greenery. I also bridled at mention of "rejuvenating with yoga" and letting nature "enhance your wellbeing", suggesting this might be some kind of verbose greenwashing. At least the actual Eden Project are involved, although it turns out they can write utter rubbish too.
» "Eden Dock – a first-of-its-kind urban oasis" (I'm unconvinced this is innovative on a global scale)
» "creating more opportunities for people to connect with nature" (to be fair, that's not exactly difficult)
» "Eden Dock will enhance the way people experience the Wharf" (they also say that about pizza restaurants)
» "providing access to beautiful waterside spaces and nature like never before" (they're very much overselling it)
» "the area now boasts floating forests" (floating forests my arse, more a few sparse saplings)
» "The figures show nature and people living together in harmony, reflecting how Eden Dock weaves nature into its urban surroundings through ecological innovation" (just like the guff they write in art galleries)
The press release also includes a lot of talk about "biodiversity gain", this being one of the new buzzphrases in urban realm planning. All you have to do is add some different trees, plant different flowers or attract different insects and hey presto you can justifiably claim to have increased the biodiversity, despite not actually doing much. In this case the dock was originally only water and now it has some plants - box ticked.
Canary Wharf also carried out some spurious research, surveying 2000 office workers last month to reach the following conclusions:
» 73% of office workers prefer to work in a location near water and green spaces.
» Over two in three office workers (69%) find creative and innovative ideas come easier if they’ve been around green spaces or water.
» Three in four (73%) people actively seek out green spaces or water to relax.
» 99% of people say engaging with nature helps them in some way, with 65% feeling more relaxed after spending time outside.
This is not the slamdunk they hoped for. Office workers at Canary Wharf were already "near water" before the greenery arrived, so providing statistics on "being around green spaces or water" tells us absolutely nothing new. Also the fact that "99% of people say engaging with nature helps them in some way" isn't a discovery, it's common sense, and all I'm saying is perhaps they wasted their money on the survey.
I also stopped to look at the three information boards along the dock, most of which were great, indeed it took a minute for the person in front of me to finish reading and get out of the way. However the 'Banana' Wall board has a go at raising the spectre of slavery and somewhat blows it.
Across the water from where you're standing is the 'banana' wall. However this fun-sounding name has a far darker history. Now known as Middle Dock, the 'banana' wall was once part of the West India Export Dock. This was built between 1803-1806, paid for in part with the profits of enslaved people.
It isn't the 'banana' wall that was funded by the slave trade, it was the entire docks. The board should really be pointing out that the whole of Docklands has a 'far darker history', not specifically a pioneering curved wall built by clever engineers, but has instead shoehorned in a tickbox slavery reference where it doesn't fit. I could show you where a reference would have been much more appropriate, on another board, but let's just move on and say this could have been done a lot better.
In summary the new walkway is excellent and you will likely love it when you see it. Just don't try reading about it because Eden Dock is best enjoyed in a state of innocence.
