diamond geezer

Breach

2009-07-10T07:00:00.020+01:00

And now a message to East Londoners who travel on the District line a lot. Bad luck, it's buggered this weekend. There's no service between Whitechapel and Barking/Upney due to track replacement work, which means the reappearance of the rail replacement buses. They were out in force a few weeks ago, chugging out to Newham and beyond, and they'll be back again in equally scary numbers tomorrow. Slight problem - the District line crosses the Lea Valley at a point where there are no parallel roads, so the buses are taking some major twirly detours to get from one side to the other. "Journey times may be increased by up to 45 minutes." Oh joy.

But it's worse than that. The eastern end of the District line is buggered every single weekend for the next three months. It's our turn to suffer, like Londoners on the Jubilee line have been suffering for the last umpteen months. Not quite so relentless perhaps, but a lot of extra inconvenience attempting to get here, there and back again until at least the middle of autumn.

Here's a fuller list of District line weekend closures, according to the pdf list provided on the TfL website. If a stretch of line is marked in green it's open, if it's red/italic it's closed. And yes, if the District line's closed then the Hammersmith & City is too. There is no escape.

11/12 Jul	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
18/19 Jul	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
25/26 Jul	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
1/2 Aug	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
8/9 Aug	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
15/16 Aug	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
22/23 Aug	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
29/31 Aug	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
5/6 Sep	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
12/13 Sep	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
19/20 Sep	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
26/27 Sep	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
3/4 Oct	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
10/11 Oct	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster
17/18 Oct	Tower Hill → W'chapel → Plaistow → Barking → Dag'm East → Upminster

It's the District line between Whitechapel and Dagenham East that's going to suffer the most. My local station at Bow Road will be closed on nine out of the next eleven weekends. There'll be no interchange with the Central line at Mile End on those same nine weekends (and no trains through Mile End at all on Sunday 18th October). Further out there are nine imminent weekends with no District line service through West Ham (three of those with no Jubilee line either). There'll be no trains at Upton Park when West Ham play their first weekend home match of the season against Tottenham on 23rd August. There's no alternative escape route at Barking because the Overground's closed every weekend for the rest of the year. And there are fifteen consecutive weekends where it's impossible to get from Dagenham to Tower Hill on one train. Thank goodness for c2c services which should still speed passengers through with no delays whatsoever... so long as you actually live near one of their stations.

Yes, I know the work's essential and it's got to be carried out some time. And yes, I know those of you living elsewhere don't really care, because you rarely feel the need to nip from Stepney to Becontree or from Plaistow up to town. But for those of us out East it means added hassle and wasted time, wiping the shine off our weekends for weeks to come. You wait until they start on your local tube line for months at a time, see how you like it then. May there be plenty of rail replacement buses to go round.

Oh, and one bit of good news. I've been moaning for ages that TfL don't have a single page on their website listing all of the forthcoming weekend's engineering works and station closures. Turns out that they do, it's just that it's hidden and nothing links to it. So let me link to it for you. It's http://www.tfl.gov.uk/tfl/livetravelnews/realtime/tube/tube-all-weekend.html. Go on, bookmark it now, you may be glad you did.

One & Other

2009-07-09T00:30:00.011+01:00

You may not remember the last project to appear on the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square. It was a red, yellow and blue glass sculpture resembling the floors of a building, entitled Model for a Hotel, and it was up there for a full 18 months. You can't fail to have noticed the latest project on the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square. It's one person an hour, dumped on top of the stone platform by a JCB and left to do whatever they choose. It's One and Other. And I know which of the two projects I prefer.

I've been along to Trafalgar Square twice since Anthony Gormley's latest presentation began, and on both occasions I've got absolutely drenched. You might have seen me on the webcam, shirt dripping wet, looking up at the better-prepared umbrella-carrier on the plinth above. I bet they had visions of a delightful sunny summer's afternoon in the centre of London, but instead they got the windswept drowned rat option. That's the danger of agreeing to take part in a public-facing art raffle - you never quite know what weather you're going to get.

On my first visit I got to see Rupert, a "symbolic modeller" from Derby, standing in his three-quarter length trousers doing nothing much. I only discovered he was called Rupert when I got home, because there's no hour-by-hour schedule or scrolling Twitterfeed in the Square. His 60 minute slot was typical of one particular type of plinther - those that are up there for the experience. Rupert just wanted to soak up the atmosphere, while others have simply chosen to sit and sketch, or sit and read, or stand and stare. Great for them, but not so thrilling for the rest of us. "Is that all he's going to do?" asked one disappointed lady passer-by who'd paused to watch. Yes, that was all, and how selfish of us to expect to be entertained throughout. Not every piece of individualistic art has to be a performance.

On the opposite side of the square, closer to Nelson's lions, is a large green two-storey portakabin. This project doesn't run itself, and all the organisers, crew and technical boffins have to be housed nearby. This is also where the participants await their turn, and presumably where they get a jolly good rub-down with a dry towel afterwards. Every hour, on the hour, a yellow truck with an extendable platform scoops up the next volunteer, chugs across the piazza and raises them to plinth-top level to be exchanged. If you need something while you're up there, be it a placard, a cup of tea or a spare raincoat, better make sure you're carrying it with you when you go.

On my second visit I got to see Bobbie, a former headteacher and a Lancashire lass. She was being rather more interactive, having brought copious notes to read from, and peered down from on high through half-rimmed reading glasses. It was rather like being back in school assembly, but without the hymn singing and sports notices (and rather more interesting too). Bobbie was an example of the other category of plinther - those with a message to get across. Not all deliver it as eloquently as she, and not all use words. Some resort to actions (Tai Chi, anyone?) or costumes (did you see that man in a cow suit over breakfast) or blatant advertising (no, just no), whichever they think best tells the world why they're here.

One and Other is two very different experiences. For those watching in real life it's an unlikely intrusion into the everyday, high above and very real. It's also very difficult to hear a word the plinther is saying. Trafalgar Square's a fairly noisy spot, not least because of the nearby fountain, so better to make your point visually or to utilise some form of portable amplification. Meanwhile for those watching elsewhere via the webcam, microphones ensure that every mumbled platitude can be overheard. Viewers also get the opportunity to watch the crowd interacting with the action - some staring up intently, others walking by without even stopping to look. And everybody's hour will be archived for posterity, all 3-months-worth of them. Maybe online is the more complete experience.

Last night I sat at home and watched Fran, a doctor from the West Midlands. She arrived on the plinth with a blue holdall within which her entire 60 minutes was carefully plotted. First a Shelter t-shirt and a stand to hang it from, then an oversized pack of playing cards. She fought the wind to attempt to construct a house of cards, utilising a handy grabber when some blew over the edge into the netting. The online crowd was critical... "can't believe she didn't think of tape before building a playing card sculpture OUTSIDE. #oneandother" At which point Fran produced some tape from her bag and set about constructing a rather sturdier habitation - all planned, all part of the charitable allegory. Quite the best use of an on-plinth hour I've yet seen (but then I've not seen many).

There are more than 2300 on-plinth hours still to go. Some participants will give it everything they've got, others will be there solely for themselves. Some will make you cringe, others may draw you in. Some will get the nightmare pub-chucking-out slot and struggle against London's finest hecklers, others will be up there at dawn performing to two pigeons and a roadsweeper. One could even be you, because they haven't selected the participants for August to October yet. Being a Londoner is a distinct disadvantage here, there's far too many of us chasing our allocation of places, whereas Northern Irish souls are currently "almost guaranteed" a spot. You might even get allocated a time well after the rest of us have lost interest, weeks after we've all stopped watching, months after the Twitterbuzz has died down. But somehow I doubt it. I think this one will run and run. Hope the rain holds off for you.

One and Other

2009-07-08T07:00:00.002+01:00

2400 people on a plinth.
On display, in the limelight.
Up there alongside Lord Nelson.
Standing around for 60 long minutes.
Acting up, showing off, getting wet.
Watching us, watching them.

One and Other.
Webcam, photos, Twitter.
What do you think?

Random borough (22d)

2009-07-08T00:22:00.004+01:00

Random borough: Wandsworth (mopping up)
Blimey, there was far more in Wandsworth than I expected.
I may have written too much about the place, but I omitted even more.
Here are a few additional delights I didn't get round to mentioning.

• The De Morgan Centre: Ooh, now this was a gorgeous surprise. Housed in the old West Hill Reference Library above Wandsworth Town Centre, this tiny museumette holds the decorative artwork of a most talented Victorian couple. Husband William De Morgan was one of William Morris's Arts and Crafts collaborators, and was the most wonderful ceramicist. The museum holds cabinetsful of lustrous glazed dishes and brightly tiled panels, often decorated with something natural, fantastical or maritime. Wife Evelyn De Morgan was a pioneering artist, and her classical and allegorical paintings are interspersed between the pottery around the gallery walls. Lovely. Small, but lovely.
Update (thanks Hedgie): The De Morgan Centre will be closing to the public on 25th July 2009. This is to prepare for the relocation of the collection to a new site, as yet to be confirmed. So hurry.
• The Wandle Trail: There's nothing quite so Wandsworthy as a walk/cycle along the banks of the River Wandle. But I did that three years ago, with photos, so not this time.
• Young's Ram Brewery: Opened in the 1500s in the heart of Wandsworth, closed in 2006, still looking pretty much intact at the moment, destined to become some ghastly twin tower shopping/office complex. More butchery than brewery.
• Clapham Junction: It's not in Clapham, it's in Battersea. It's not the busiest station in the world, passenger-wise, but it does see more trains than any other station in Europe.
• The Putney Sculpture Trail: Nine life-size bronze sculptures by Alan Thornhill, along the banks of the Thames, either side of Putney Bridge. Here's Punch & Judy (entwined outside a bankrupt restaurant).
• London Heliport: The only approved spot to land your chopper in the capital is on the banks of the Thames in Battersea. Beware Noel Edmonds.
• Balham (gateway to the south): Listen to Peter Sellers' 1958 travelogue tribute to Bal-Ham here.

Random borough (22c)

2009-07-07T00:22:00.017+01:00

Random borough (22): Wandsworth (part 3)

Somewhere historic: The Putney Debates
In 1647, during a lull in the English Civil War, the New Model Army bedded down in Putney for a few months. Amongst other things their thoughts turned to representative democracy, like you do, and an unlikely series of debates took place. Should every soldier, every land owner or even every free citizen, have the right to vote? Did the King have a divine right, or should the people demand equality under the law? Pretty basic stuff today, but ideas unrehearsed at the time. A manifesto was put forward entitled The Case of the Armie Truly Stated, and the voice of the common man was put forward by a disparate pressure group called the Levellers.

Day 1 of the debates kicked off in St Mary's Church on the banks of the Thames. Arguments were heard for both sides under the chairmanship of Oliver Cromwell, and continued for a fortnight. In the end nothing really changed - a resurgence of the Civil War saw to that. But the Putney Debates have come to represent an early outbreak of modern constitutional thinking because of one lucky coincidence - their transcripts survived. The paperwork was uncovered in Worcester College Library in the 1890s, and the stenographer's shorthand eventually deciphered allowing historians to look back at the thoughts and arguments of an underclass whose thoughts were not normally heard. A new exhibition in St Mary's continues to tell their story today.

I made the mistake of attempting to enter the church via the west door. Wrong, this is a church you enter via the café. They're rightly proud of their new extension at St Mary's, paid for out of a bequest by two dear old parishioners called Olive and Nora, enabling the church to reach out into the community via the medium of frothy caffeine. Past the tables and comfy sofas, past the orders of service and parish notices, and into the main body of the church itself. OK, so this is no normal ancient church. It was badly damaged by an arson attack in 1973 and subsequently remodelled, so the interior feels more like a theatre in the round than a place of worship. There's a particularly fine view from the new gallery down onto the central dais, from which the rector holds forth every Sunday. You may have heard Giles on Thought For The Day, he's a forthright cheery progressive, and he leaves St Mary's this month to take up a new post at St Paul's Cathedral.

The Putney Debates exhibition is crammed into a tiny alcove close to the entrance. There are several fact-packed display boards to read, plus an hour's worth of video to watch. Don't worry, there's also a seat, because this could take some time. I pressed button 1 to hear more about Putney's constitutional legacy from various luminaries including Tony Benn, Lady Antonia Fraser and our Giles. I wasn't quite convinced that the debates lay the foundations for modern civil liberties, but as an early symbol of emerging democracy they remain unmatched. A quotation from a Roundhead army captain has been inscribed in gold on the south wall where you might expect to find a line from scripture. "I think that the poorest he that is in England hath a life to live, as the greatest he". How very apposite. And plenty to ponder over a caramel milkshake in the café on the way out.
by tube: Putney Bridge

Somewhere pretty: The Alton Estate, Roehampton
When the London County Council sought to rehouse ten thousand inner London slum dwellers in the late 1950s, their eyes alighted on what was then the westernmost tip of the capital. Beyond Roehampton Lane, in the parkland grounds of several former Georgian mansions, they plotted the construction of a vast council estate to the very latest architectural specifications.The Alton Estate was designed in two contrasting halves. Alton East was softly Modernist with a mixture of low- and high-rise housing, and nothing particularly extraordinary. But Alton West was built to a more Brutalist functional agenda, reflecting Le Corbusier's recent success in Marseille with l'Unité d'Habitation. The first Alton residents loved it.

Alton West is spread across the banks of a wooded hollow beyond the edge of Richmond Park. Into this landscape were dropped zonal clusters of identikit habitation - cuboid apartment blocks, flat-roofed terraced maisonettes, even meandering rows of prefab bungalows. Each provides a distinct neighbourhood identity within the wider community, with a more rural feel the further west along Danbury Avenue you go.

Rising above them all, along the brow of the hill, are five imposing eleven-storey slab-blocks. They're aligned in parallel, staggered diagonally, each perched up on matchstalk pillars to provide residents with a grandstand view. Grade II* listed, obviously, although I'd be surprised if anyone from English Heritage would choose to live here.

The estate's got its problems. Stairwells and corridors have seen better days. The rolling grassland setting is ideal for a summer picnic (so long as you check carefully for dogmess before you sit down), but far less attractive on a dark winter's evening. The far end of Danbury Avenue is fairly remote, and residents wait expectantly at the central bus stop for carriage up to civilisation and beyond. The library, added as an afterthought in 1961, had to be squeezed in beneath an austere apartment block. And Wandsworth planners recently decided that the shopping parade and eastern flats need to be replaced by something more modern, more regenerative, less 'council'. Maybe a mistake. Alton will never be Arcadia, but this pioneering architectural experiment has laid down strong communal foundations.
by bus: 170, 430 on film: Fahrenheit 451

Random borough (22b)

2009-07-06T00:22:00.018+01:00

Random borough (22): Wandsworth (part 2)

Somewhere retail: The London Sewing Machine Museum
When I mentioned the London Sewing Machine Museum in passing last week, little did I imagine I'd be walking through its hallowed portal over the weekend. The museum's only open for three hours a month, so the chances of ever finding myself in the vicinity were quite frankly minimal. But when eleven-to-one shot Wandsworth emerged from my random jamjar on the first Saturday of the month, I decided I had to visit. It took two attempts to get inside because the website doesn't reveal any precise opening times (two til five, as it turned out). But I'm so glad I made the effort, because the experience was unforgettable.

To Tooting Bec station, then a brief stroll north along the Balham High Road. There are two large sewing-machine related buildings to pick from (I know, what are the chances?) but ignore the Sewing and Craft Superstore at number 300. You want the premises of the Wimbledon Sewing Machine Company Limited at 312, a very ordinary-looking two-storey block industrial block [photo]. The ground floor houses the workshop, still very much a going concern, with scores of tabletop machines laid out amid shelves piled high with thread and spare parts [photo]. The working week ends Saturday lunchtime, and once a month manager Ray hangs around afterwards to welcome visitors to his upstairs collection. It's a whopper.

Even in the downstairs lobby there's a strong hint that somebody around here is obsessed with sewing machines. A variety of old machines and assorted ephemera litter the floor, balcony and stairwell, each lovingly presented. An antique industrial machine spooled-up and ready to sew, a metal advertising panel for the French branch of Singer, even a 1981 receipt for spaceprobe insulation. Climb higher, because you ain't seen nothing yet.

On the first floor I entered a room filled with more sewing machines than I'd ever seen in my life [photo]. Shelf after shelf, with more laid out on tables across the floor, every space filled, every machine dutifully labelled. This room's home to the more workaday machines, mostly black, once commonplace in homes and factories across the country. Before all our clothes arrived via imported sweatshops, Britons were clothed only thanks to these machines and the skill of their operators. I looked in vain for the precise model my Mum used to own, although the Silko reels and coffin-top carrying cases seemed eminently familiar. A brief video in the far corner told the story of the museum, information which was also detailed in a 13-page stapled handout freely available to take away.

One of the curators wandered over for a chat - friendly but intense - and his devotion to the cause shone through. Much of the collection has been sourced from closed-down businesses and household clearouts, and it was clear that the loss of even a single chucked-away machine hurt him deeply. He directed me through to the second room at the rear (ohmigod, a second room) where the antique machines were housed (blimey, hundreds more). Glass cases this time, in front of plush curtained walls to emphasise the rarity of their contents. Many of these were delicate machines for delicate Victorian ladies, the highlight being one especially ornate Wheeler & Wilson device given to Queen Victoria's eldest daughter as a wedding present [photo]. Members of the International Sewing Machine Collectors' Society would be so overwhelmed they'd need several visits to take everything on board.

The collection has breadth and diversity - it's not all sewing machines. Threads and needles and pattern books, obviously, plus a delightful wind-up marionette merrily sewing away beneath a glass belljar. One corner has been given over to recreating Ray's dad's sewing machine shop along the Merton Road, a poignant display of labelled merchandise from an era I can almost remember myself [photo]. There are antique clocks too, plus a proper barrel organ that plays music hall tunes which the curator willingly demonstrated to the watching crowds. Not terribly large crowds, admittedly, but the Australian trio and myself were duly appreciative.

I learnt several things during my hour in the museum. Firstly not to take my clothes for granted - somebody somewhere sweated to put all those seams in my trousers, and my great-grandparents would have thought nothing of doing it themselves. Secondly that anything can be made interesting if presented with sufficient love and flair - even a floorful of domestic appliances. Thirdly that the museum's owners are enormously generous of their time and resources - admission is free, but owner Ray still popped in with a tray of chilled wine glasses mid-way through the afternoon. And finally that you really ought to visit, especially if handicrafts, technology or the quirkier side of London float your boat. 2pm, Saturday 1st August - start forming the queue now.
by tube: Tooting Bec by bus: 155, 249, 355

Somewhere sporty: Tooting Bec Lido
Perfect day for it. A dip in Britain's largest freshwater swimming pool, all one million gallons of it, was packing them in on Saturday at the eastern end of Tooting Bec Common. Opened as the Tooting Bathing Lake in 1906, this outdoor pool evolved into a lido in the Thirties and is a notable survivor of Wandsworth council's relentless cutbacks. The public are allowed in between May and September, while the South London Swimming Club have exclusive access during the often-freezing winter months. One 100 yard-long swimming pool, one much smaller paddling pool, a café and a bit of grass for sunbathing on - these are simple pleasures. Not that I was getting inside for a look. The lido's deliberately screened behind an earth bank and various rows of trees, so that snooping is pretty much impossible. Turnstiles bar the way at the entrance, as well as a sulky guard, and on Saturday morning additional security was being called in to cope with the burgeoning crowds. Alas I hadn't brought a towel or my trunks (do swimmers still wear trunks or is everything baggy Speedos these days, I wouldn't know), so getting inside would have been pointless. All I could see through the gap was the bright blue shallow end and a gushing weddingcake fountain. A walk around the perimeter proved difficult, not least because the lido was built right up close to the East Croydon mainline. But I did eventually catch sight of a few of the Lido's trademark primary-coloured changing booths through the trees, across the railway. Sorry, I wasn't attempting too look like a pervy stalker lurking in the undergrowth. But why should swimmers have all the fun?
by train: Streatham by bus: 249, 319

Random borough (22a)

2009-07-05T00:22:00.018+01:00

Random borough (22): Wandsworth (part 1)

Wandsworth is in southwest London, close enough in parts to feel distinctly metropolitan, far enough in others to be proper suburbia. Much of its Thames-side fringe has recently been overtaken by a string of vulgar apartment blocks, whereas the interior is generally of solid Victorian stock. Wandsworth's also renowned for its extremely low council tax, usually amongst the very lowest in the country, which is one reason why the borough museum closed a few years back. Frugality might also explain why the council's website was bugger-all help in planning my whistlestop tour around the borough yesterday. But I found plenty of interest all the same.

Somewhere famous: Battersea/Nine Elms
Several of the things for which Battersea is famous aren't necessarily in Battersea proper. They're in Nine Elms, a dreary slice of industrial riverside named after a line of trees (what else?). To investigate I took a walk along sun-baked Nine Elms Lane, starting at the edge of the borough just beyond Vauxhall. Some of the places I passed are famous, some could have been, and one will be. And hurrah, there were even kittens.

New Covent Garden Flower Market: To enable Covent Garden to become a central London tourist trap, all the flowersellers had to move out. And its to Nine Elms that they fled, to a new 1970s market building blessed with chilled air conditioning and an isometric roof. The site had previously been a locomotive works, but go back even further and it was almost one of the most important stations in London. In 1838 the services of the London & Southampton Railway terminated here, and passengers had to continue into the centre of town by boat or road. Damned inconvenient, so the company extended their tracks to a new inner terminus and shut Nine Elms down. You've probably heard of Waterloo station, it's quite busy these days.

The US Embassy: Ah, this hasn't arrived yet. But Uncle Sam's new home is at the planning stage already, and everyone should eventually be moving out of Grosvenor Square to this unassuming Wandsworth location. It's a seemingly odd choice. At the moment the chosen spot is part of a relatively inaccessible industrial estate that's seen far better days. There are several anonymous warehouses, and a Bentley dealership, and an imposing 80s office block now boarded up with weeds growing across an extensive courtyard. My photo shows Ponton Road, which is to be diverted so that the new embassy building can be built slap bang across its former carriageway. Current plans feature "consular pavilions", "earth sculptures" and "public art opportunities", but expect an expensive hi-tech fortress within which visas will be denied and potential immigrants will be belitted. Happy future Independence Day.

Battersea Power Station: A 1930s coal-fired shouldn't gladden the heart but, even in its derelict state, this towering workhorse still has a special place in Londoners' hearts. It must be the chimneys, visible for miles around, and still mighty impressive from almost-up-close. Sir Giles Gilbert Scott's temple of power generated mega-megawatts for London before the off switch was finally flicked in 1983. Proposals for the building's rebirth have been many - a theme park, offices, a shopping mall - but planning dissent and failed funding have left the building roofless and decaying. The latest residential plan even selfishly suggests a short spur off the Northern line to serve tenants and shoppers, and bugger anyone living further west in Wandsworth or Battersea proper. Most worrying is the idea that the chimneys are in a precarious state and may have to be replaced, because I'd have no faith that once demolished they'd ever be rebuilt. Instead I cherish my memories of a tour of the interior in 2006 for a Chinese art exhibition, and I fear I may never get the opportunity again.

Battersea Dogs Home: And Cats, these days, before anyone adds a comment to correct me. The nation's favourite pet dispensary moved to Battersea in 1871, at which time it was known as The Temporary Home for Lost and Starving Dogs. Its operations have expanded somewhat since, and the Battersea site now includes kennels for nearly 300 dogs and even a suite of "Cat Socialising Rooms". The current building resembles a cross between a small prison and a Travelodge, but is (one suspects) slightly more comfortable inside. Passers-by along Battersea Park Road are still met by the unmistakable sound of hopeful barking attempting to tempt them inside. Late afternoon I watched as a smiling family emerged into the sunlight with a new addition, the lady of the house clutching a fragile puppy in her arms. Once across the road and into the car, a new home beckoned. Buster, Pippin and Beetroot still await their happy ending.

Battersea Park: And finally, one of London's very finest parks. It's blessed by a riverside location, and it's huge, and yesterday it was the perfect spot for thousands of Wandsworthians to strip down and toast their flesh. Unlike many other London parks, it's hard to get bored here. Take a look inside the Pump House Art Gallery, go for a pedal around the boating lake, or maybe potter around the children's zoo. My choices included watching the sun glinting on the 25-year-old Peace Pagoda, going for a wander along the Tea Terrace, and enjoying a bit of cooling spray around the central fountains. Back in 1951 these synchronised gushers were a centrepiece of the park's contribution to the Festival of Britain, advertised as the "Festival Gardens" and boasting a large number of whimsical attractions. Most were swiftly withdrawn afterwards, but the Battersea funfair survived into the 1970s until doomed by a fatal Big Dipper accident. Traces of past glories remain, but these days the park's simpler pleasures are perfectly attractive.

Somewhere infamous: Wandsworth Prison
The second biggest prison in the UK (after Liverpool, if you must know) is tucked away inside a pocket of suburbia to the southeast of Wandsworth town centre. The prison opened in 1851 as The Surrey House of Correction, arranged radiallly with six cellblock wings that still house prisoners to this day. In total 135 inmates have experienced irreversible 'correction' at Wandsworth, most of these on the gallows located in "The Cold Meat Shed". Many renowned miscreants have spent time within the prison's walls, including Oscar Wilde, Charles Bronson and Pete Docherty, although most inmates are only here before being packed off to somewhere else. One convict who refused to hang around was train robber Ronnie Biggs, who escaped from the exercise yard in an audacious breakout in 1965 and rapidly swapped South London for South America.

From the front in Heathfield Road the prison looks more like a Victorian brick castle, complete with turrets and central portcullis. The facade is brightened up by an unfeasibly high number of blooming flowers in black boxes, no doubt planted (but not watered) by the prisoners inside. Even the security cameras are bedecked by colourful hanging baskets, as if to soften up the reality of what goes on inside. If you're visiting a prisoner, entrance is up a small staircase to the left, whereas staff enter via a separate set of steps to the right of the cycle racks. There's also a (very) small museum, officially opened last year inside what looks like an old shed up the road. Entrance is by appointment only, so I wasn't able to look inside, but you might be more tenacious. Just be careful where you leave your car - a sign in the staff car park warns "no parking against wall after 5:30pm". They'll try anything to get out of Wandsworth, some people.
by train: Wandsworth Common, Earlsfield by bus: 77, 219

Random Borough (22)

2009-07-04T08:00:00.005+01:00

Random borough (22): Time once more for me to take another random trip to one of London's 33 boroughs. As I write I have no idea which one of the 12 remaining borough names will be revealed when I unfold the slip of paper I'm about to pick from my legendary (but unseen) "special jamjar". I could pick any one of the other London boroughs - inner or outer, urban or suburban, small or large, fascinating or dull. I just know it won't be Merton, Islington, Enfield, Sutton, Lewisham, Southwark, Kensington & Chelsea, Hackney, Hillingdon, the City, Bromley, Lambeth, Tower Hamlets, Haringey, Hounslow, Brent, Redbridge, Ealing, Harrow, Croydon or Waltham Forest, because they're the twenty-one (dark grey) boroughs I've picked out already.

Today I'm two thirds of the way through my random exploration of the capital, with just a western strip and an eastern chunk still to go. My most recent visits have all been fairly peripheral. I haven't been in as close as Zone 1 during the last two years, nor even as close as Zone 2 since last summer. Is today the day I finally hit the central tourist hotspots of Westminster or Camden. Or am I heading back to Boris's beloved outskirts, dispatched somewhere attraction-lite like Kingston or Havering?

Once I've researched my randomly-chosen borough online I'll then head off and visit some of its most interesting places (assuming it has any). As usual I hope to visit somewhere famous, somewhere historic, somewhere pretty, somewhere retail, somewhere sporty and somewhere random. I might even take lots of photographs while I'm at it, if the borough's photogenic enough. Then after I've made my grand tour I'll come back tomorrow and tell you all about it. Let's see where I'm going this time...

Old post, fresh comment

2009-07-04T00:02:00.004+01:00

Some days the comments are more interesting than the blog. Some days new comments on yesterday's post are more interesting than today's. And some days somebody slaps a really interesting comment on a really ancient post where you'd never ever notice it (unless you were me). Here's two you missed.

Henry Allingham on Harrington Hill
Post from Monday, June 22, 2009
Comment from Friday July 3, 2009
"My great-grandparents lived at 39 Harrington Hill in 1911, having moved to the area from a tiny village called Radwinter in Essex sometime before 1887. The family lived in, or near, Harrington Hill from that time to at least 1930, when my great-uncle was still living at no. 39. Other members of my family also migrated from Essex, from about 1871, when Clapton at the time was a small village, just outside Hackney, and boasted just one farm. I'm running a family history project centred on Harrington Hill, so if anyone would like to read it and/or participate, visit my website or email me at drbabs1@me.com. Great bit of gazeteering btw - now I definitely have to revisit (I was born in the Sally Army Mothers' Hospital in 1953, as was my father before me in 1921). Cheers." (from Dr Babs)

The Kray Brothers in Bow
Post from Friday, August 29, 2003
Comment from Wednesday July 1, 2009
"From birth to 5 years of age I lived with my family in a small flat at the top of a very large house. This was 8, Wellington Way Bow. It largely remained empty whilst I was very small. I used to ride my tricycle or pedal car around huge downstairs rooms and corridors. Then it all changed and became a club. From my upstairs bedroom window I would look down and see rows of roulette tables, snooker tables and the air thick with smoke. One day the owner visited arriving in a large American car - I was so impressed. For some reason we had to meet him. I only remember that he was smiling and pressed a huge half crown coin into my hand. It was only last year, 50 years later that I realised I was living above one of the Krays gambling clubs." (from Len Holman)

Stalking

2009-07-03T07:00:00.009+01:00

I have this red iris thing that grows in a pot on my balcony.

Every year around this time it suddenly puts on a growth spurt, pushes up several thin reedy leaves and then ejects one slender stalk higher and taller than the rest. At the end of this stalk hang a series of seven or so crimson buds which, over the period of less than a fortnight, gradually unfurl, bloom and wilt. It looks gorgeous, but only briefly, and then fades swiftly away.

This year the flowery stem stretched out rather further than usual, then promptly sagged under its own weight and drooped headlong into the rosebush alongside. In attempting to remove the flowers from their thorny hideaway I managed to damage the stalk, creating a nasty torn fold that would never repair. Damn. My prize bloom, now at risk of rapid extinction, drooped even more precipitously below the horizontal. Rather than watch the flowers die unattached and unloved, I snipped off the stalk at its point of damage and placed the single stem into a vase I've had for eight years but never used. It looks a bit lonely, but at least I get to admire its beauty indoors for a brief period before the petals fade away.

The plant's entire flowery lifecycle is now displayed across seven simple blooms, from the tip of the stalk down to the cusp of the container. Two darkly budding, the next tentatively opening, one in the centre bright and resplendent and proud, then two past their prime, and finally one hanging soggy and limp. Nature's annual miracle is being played out on my windowsill - severed, captured, defiant. I keep staring at it, wondering how much longer it can survive, then looking back to the balcony where it ought to be the dominant feature. By next week I expect to be chucking the whole withered has-been into the bin, and feeling a slight twinge of guilt as it departs.

Fingers crossed that next year's single-stemmed flowershow survives intact, outside where it belongs.

What happened next?

2009-07-02T07:00:00.012+01:00

What happened after... Are You Being Served?

Lee and Carla opened Mollie Sugden's Hairdressing at the top end of Brick Lane a couple of years ago. I don't believe that the late comedy goddess ever visited the salon to have her purple rinse touched up. But it's good to know that her name lives on.

What happened after... Geoff went to Epping?
You remember Geoff, he's the one zipping round America visiting places named after tube stations, in an epic road trip entitled Underground : USA. After Epping (Maine) Geoff went to Putney (Vermont), and since then he's managed 15 or so other appropriately-named backwaters. But then disaster. Overnight in North Carolina some Greensboro lowlife stole his PC, camera, GPS and video-editing stuff out of the back of his car (yeah yeah, he knows), throwing the remainder of the trip into doubt. But that was Monday, and since then the online community has pulled together in a life-affirming way and raised more than $4500 towards replacement gadgetry. Hurrah. So the journey continues. It's Finchley and Hampstead next, and still seven weeks to go. [blog] [twitter] [facebook] [map] [helpgeoff]

What happened after... Smoke #13?
Obviously, eventually, Smoke #14. The latest edition of this irregular London fanzine is now available, and the 52-page glossy offering features the usual mix of "words and images inspired by the city". All hail editor-in-chief Matt and his eclectic selection of contributors. Look, the cover even manages to make Camberwell appear glamorous. Most of the articles have an articulate literary bent, more descriptive than factual, and there's usually an arty angle to the images and illustrations. In this issue you can read about night-biking on the Regent's Canal, bus queues on Tulse Hill, windows that look like monkeys, London's campest statues, post-war Leytonstone and Narroway shopping. If you live in West London you might be disappointed by the geographical spread of articles, but who cares, the whole magazine's more about atmosphere than location. Perhaps these snippets here will give you a better idea. And then £2.90 (stockists here) or £3.30 (mail order here) will earn you a proper collectable copy.

What happened at... the end of the Story of London?
The June-long celebration of London's history has now finished, concluding with a weekend of building-related events. Ian went to the SoL event at Three Mills (but not many other people did) and to the SoL-related event at Crossness (although they were opening anyway). Dave Hill believes that the festival could have used its small budget to greater effect. And in case you're wondering what you missed, bad luck, because Boris has already taken down the entire website. If the festival runs again next year, I hope the publicity (and the listing of events) is a darned sight better.

Official Confectionery and Ice Cream Supporter

2009-07-01T07:00:00.008+01:00

Olympic update
Cadbury and sponsorship

When the London 2012 team start getting defensive about one of their sponsors, you know there's a problem.

Chocolate makes you fat; London 2012 is all about encouraging healthy living and getting everyone inspired to do more sport.

So as the first London 2012-branded Cadbury Dairy Milk bars soon appear on the shelves, people will no doubt start asking questions: How can we responsibly partner with a chocolate company? Surely we're sending out the wrong message? Aren't we just encouraging obesity at a time when it's already such an issue?

Well, you've got to admit, this does look like a bloody stupid link-up. On one hand the London 2012 Olympics attempting to promote sport for all and healthy living, especially for kids. And on the other hand a purveyor of sugar-loaded fat-drenched cocoa. Thank goodness Deborah, one of the 2012 Organising Committee's top copywriters, is on the case.

Well, no. Chocolate does make you fat, but only if you eat too much of it.

Brilliant. Likewise Marmite makes you fat, but only if you eat too much of it, and a diet of deep fried Mars Bars and cheese-coated chips makes you fat, unless you eat too little of it. Sorry Deborah, but as arguments go, that one's vacuous.

So firstly, and most importantly, Cadbury and all their variety of treats are, well, just that – they're treats, marketed as treats (think Cadbury Fudge), and intended to be enjoyed as part of a healthy lifestyle.

That's not right, is it? When you see Cadbury's products advertised, the idea of "treats" and "health" is rarely at the forefront of the company's brand message. That percussive gorilla in the Phil Collins adverts may be burning up calories whilst waving his drumsticks around, and that lady in that bathtub getting oral pleasure from a thrusting Flake may be treating herself to some vigorous healthy exercise later, but the emphasis is always on chocolate rather than health. Good try Deborah, but I'm not buying this one either.

Cadbury are up-front about this on their website. Where they tell you about their products, there's a clear nutrition section which says: 'We would like you to enjoy your treats as part of a healthy and well-balanced diet. By using the links and tools below you will find information about our products that will help you to understand the part they play in your diet and therefore how you can enjoy them sensibly.'

I had a look at the flashy purple website for Cadbury's Dairy Milk. Even when I spotted the the "Nutrition" option, it was six more clicks before the "links and tools" finally revealed that 56.7% of each bar is sugar. Even sneakier, the on-screen graphic gave only the calories, sugar and fat in one chunk, leaving me to try to work out (no clues!) how many chunks the bar might contain. No Deborah, this is not up-front, this is very carefully hidden away. Do Cadbury's shout? No, Cadbury's whisper.

So not 'buy all of these delicious things we make, now, in great quantities', but 'buy sensible, eat responsibly and you'll be able to enjoy'.

How many mass market companies do you know who advertise in the hope that you won't buy many of their products? If Cadbury were truly serious about healthy eating they'd market their Creme Eggs as "Cardiac Bullets", rather than hiding a tiny purple sentence on the bottom of their packaging - "to be enjoyed as part of a healthy, active lifestyle". Cadbury may claim they want us to be "treatwise", but chocolate and health will always be uneasy bedfellows.

That very much fits in with our thinking – the idea of healthy living sitting within our wider aim of creating a sustainable Games.

And that's why London 2012 and Cadbury are supposed to be a perfect match, is it? Oh please. Attempting to prove corporate symbiosis by matching mission statements is the last resort of the failed PR copywriter. But everybody's doing it. Look, here's Todd Stitzer, Cadbury's CEO, with an absolutely desperate example of the genre.

Since John Cadbury opened a chocolate shop in Birmingham in 1824, we have strived to be a company that is both performance driven and values led – a philosophy that is at one with the long held ethos of the Games: inspiration, optimism and community.

Deborah continues by promising that Cadbury aren't out to flog chunks of brown fat to children, they're far more interested in long-term sports sponsorship and engendering a sense of community. Yeah right. And she concludes thus:

Cadbury genuinely believe in the wider, positive change the Games can bring about, and want to help that happen. They want to spread the powerful message of the Games to the hundreds of thousands of people who buy their bars.

Buy one of the newly-branded 2012 bars of Dairy Milk and all you'll notice is a purple version of that logo nobody likes. It's extremely unlikely that you'll suddenly think "ooh, once I've gobbled down this slab of artery-blocker I really must go for a healthy jog to burn off all its calories, and then pledge to make running a sustainable permanent change to my lifestyle going forward."

No, the reason for Cadbury's Olympic sponsorship is really very simple. When you and I go to the Stadium in 2012, we might want a bar of chocolate. And if the weather's anything like it is this week, we're almost certainly going to want a choc ice. All that Cadbury have done is to pay £20m for the exclusive rights to sell chocolate and ice cream at the 2012 Games, and the London Organising Committee are allowing them some elevated publicity in return. And I like my ice cream, so I'm perfectly OK about an Olympic deal that saves taxpayers some money. But please Deborah, please Todd, all you're doing is setting up an international sweetshop, so please don't try to dress up your sponsorship deal as anything more meaningful than that.

L is for Linley Sambourne House

2009-06-30T07:00:00.005+01:00

L	LONDON A-Z An alphabetical journey through the capital's museums Linley Sambourne House

Location: 18 Stafford Terrace, Kensington W8 7BH [map]
Open: by timed tour only (two on Wednesdays; four at weekends)
Admission: £6
Brief summary: preserved (and character-full) Victorian townhouse
Website: www.rbkc.gov.uk/linleysambournehouse
Time to set aside: an hour and a half

You may be thinking "who?" and "where?" and "you what?", but by the end of this review I hope you'll be asking "why haven't I been?"

Linley Sambourne was a cartoonist for Punch magazine, and a privileged social climber. His position owed more than a little to luck, gaining his apprenticeship in 1867 via a friend of the family who just happened to know Punch's editor. A forty year career followed, rising up the ranks to become the magazine's chief cartoonist with a recognisably Victorian style. It wouldn't surprise me if there's still a doctor's waiting room somewhere with some of his work piled on a table.

Success allowed Linley to establish a family home in Kensington. 18 Stafford Terrace was a tall townhouse with a scullery in the basement and maid's room in the attic, with the floors inbetween bedecked in the very latest middle-class style. Most similar properties have long been gutted and modernised, but the Sambourne house has survived pretty much untouched thanks to the efforts of the Victorian Society. This august preservation body held its very first meetings here at number 18 fifty years ago. The place later passed into the care of the Greater London Council, and today the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea are in charge. Rest assured, the building's in good hands.

You'll only get to go round the house if you time your visit for one of the ten weekly tours. Some of these are fairly ordinary, but a few are costumed affairs led by a talented actress and they're the tours I'd recommend. Booking in advance is advised, although I just turned up and got lucky. You might not want to be so reckless. Entrance is via the mini-shop in the basement, and the tour begins with a 10 minute video introduced by Linley's great-grandson, the Earl of Snowdon. From there a RBKC operative will lead you back out into the street and up to the front door, beyond which awaits your host for the next hour.

Our chaperone was Mrs Reffell, the Sambourne's engaging and chatty cook, although on other occasions I suspect the tour guide is a character from above stairs. Never once stepping out of character, she led us around the interior from one room to the next, recounting stories and anecdotes about the family of the house. In the dining room we heard of the dinner party the Sambournes had enjoyed 'last night', and were also treated to intimate snippets of social gossip. That Mr Oscar Wilde, they'd been round to his recently, whereas Mr William Morris and his wife weren't quite the consummate hosts they'd expected. Mrs R pointed out the expensive Morris wallpaper her employer had pasted up and told us (scandalously) how much it had cost. All the facts and anecdotes were historically accurate, of course, and had been lifted from Marion Sambourne's diary.

Up in the attic we entered Linley's airy studio. A back catalogue of sketches and prints filled several shelves, all of the boxes the genuine article, as was the old wooden desk and assorted objects thereon. A central easel supported a somewhat saucy cartoon, composed (as with all LS's later work) by photographing live models with his new-fangled camera and then copying the result. Often the live model was a member of the family, press-ganged into standing in the garden in some ridiculous costume or holding some important accessory in their hand. The bathroom doubled up as a dark room, and a display of prints across the east wall confirmed that the master of the house had a particular fancy for snapping semi-clad females. Mrs Reffell ushered us out of there fairly swiftly, simultaneously thrilled and embarrassed by her master's fruity fetish.

More rooms to see, ending up in the perfectly preserved first floor drawing room. Again various points of period detail were highlighted and set in context, like the elegant vine painted on the mirror by the front window which was actually covering a crack and had been added to save buying a replacement. Delightful, and the hour was over too soon. Mine was a (very) lightly-attended tour, but the actress playing part of Mrs Reffell made every effort throughout to involve us all in the experience. "Do you have a bicycle, sir?" "Are those really your normal clothes, madam?" We responded with good-natured bonhomie, slightly out of place as visitors from the future, but very much the welcomed guests. The more you join in and interact, the more you'll enjoy it. And you will enjoy it. Why haven't you been?
by tube: High Street Kensington

If you can't get there in person:
• Behind Closed Doors - meet the staff in this video preview
• House Tour - a photographic journey around number 18

L is also for...
» Leighton House Museum (closed for refurbishment until later this year)
» Little Holland House (Arts and Crafts in Carshalton)
» London Canal Museum (I've been)
» London Fire Brigade Museum (by appointment) (Ian's visited)
» London Motorcycle Museum (a gem in Greenford) (I've been)
» London Sewing Machine Museum (opens 1st Saturday afternoon of the month) (photos)
» London Transport Museum (anybody not been?)

» All my A-Z posts (so far) on a single page

Edgware Road

2009-06-29T07:00:00.006+01:00

TfL have been playing with the Circle line over the weekend. They've been practising for December, when the orbital route is split apart and all the trains start/finish their journeys at Hammersmith instead. The Circle will be broken at Edgware Road which then becomes a key interchange hub. But can this ageing station cope? I'm not convinced.

Here's how the new split-Circle arrangements at Edgware Road should work:

Platform 1: All eastbound trains (from Hammersmith) [Circle] [H&C]
Platform 2: Start/end of the line for orbital Circle line trains [Circle]

Platform 3: District line trains to Wimbledon [District]
Platform 4: Westbound trains to Hammersmith [Circle] [H&C]

It ought to be simple. Each of Edgware Road's four platforms will have its own dedicated service, so all passengers need to do is go to the correct platform and wait. But over the weekend, without even any temporary signage in place, it didn't feel simple at all. Now wonder the member of TfL platform staff I spoke to described his weekend experience as a "nightmare".

Case study: arriving at Edgware Road platform 2 on a terminating Circle Line train
"Last and final stop. This train terminates at Edgware Road. Please cross to platform 1 to complete your eastbound journey. All change please, all change." It's hard to see that the driver could have done more to inform passengers about what was going on. Even so, only 80% of the train's passengers disembarked. The rest sat where they were, either because they "knew" that Circle line trains didn't terminate here or because English wasn't their first language and nobody had warned them in advance that the Circle was no longer a Circle. Eventually most of the non-movers twigged, but some sat tight in blissful ignorance. Meanwhile the first westbound passengers clambered on board, ready for their Circle line journey to High Street Kensington and Victoria. An over-stretched member of TfL staff moved down the platform, knocking on each carriage in turn and yelling "All change, all change please!" Passengers duly disembarked, even those who'd just got on because they actually knew what they were doing. A fluster of animated conversation with the member of staff ensued, and the westbound passengers re-boarded the train they'd boarded correctly in the first place.

One particular Spanish couple stood baffled on platform 2, trying to work out what to do next. They had a pair of large suitcases in tow, no doubt fresh from the Heathrow Express at Paddington, and their command of English wasn't great. "Tower Hill?" they mumbled. TfL-Bloke directed them towards Platform 1 and told them to catch the next Circle line train. Absolutely right, mate. Alas the first train to arrive was an eastbound Hammersmith and City train, and the Spanish couple needed a lot of persuasion not to climb on board. Meanwhile the westbound Circle line train on platform 2 closed its doors and set off. It struck me that this train was actually going to Tower Hill, but the couple had been advised to get off it and wait for a train going round the other way. This should have been good advice because the clockwise journey's normally quicker, but not in this case. A lengthy wait ensued and no eastbound trains arrived at all. Circle line trains will run less frequently under this new revised timetable (six an hour, rather than seven an hour) so expect to wait up to 10 minutes in the future. The "next train" indicators provided no useful information. The system at Edgware Road is supremely useless - ancient boxes with weedy red text, and seemingly unable to announce any arrival until a minute before it happens. If they're not upgraded before December when Edgware Road becomes a key Circle line hub, I'd expect customer annoyance and dissatisfaction to be high.

Another Circle line service arrived on platform 2, and another few hundred people crossed to platform 1 to complete their eastbound journey. Meanwhile some of those already waiting on platform 1 crossed back to platform 2, thinking an eastbound Circle line train had finally arrived. Wrong, it terminated here, all change please. The new influx of passengers waited semi-patiently, adding an extra five minutes to all of their journeys, before the next eastbound train finally appeared. This was another Hammersmith and City line train, to Whitechapel, and it was already fairly full. Within seconds it was a lot fuller. The Spanish couple looked around for assistance, but within such a large crowd there was none. They tried checking their tube map, but it didn't actually show the weekend's temporary service and wasn't much help. Eventually, just before the doors closed, they clambered aboard and set off in cattle class conditions. I hope they changed trains before Aldgate East, because it's no fun lugging a pair of suitcases across from one platform to the other, and it's a mighty inefficient way to get to Tower Hill. They should have waited. One minute later a Circle line service finally arrived, going precisely where they wanted to go, and it was nigh empty. Ah, if only they'd picked a different weekend to travel, one when they'd not been forced to change trains at Edgware Road. Alas, come December, none of us will have that option.

Circle+ (anti-clockwise)

2009-06-29T00:10:00.002+01:00

The extended Circle line (anti-clockwise)
Edgware Road → Hammersmith (via Liverpool Street)

Edgware Road (platform 2) round to Tower Hill: All absolutely normal. The train said CIRCLE LINE on the front. Given that nobody this far out would be travelling beyond Paddington, nobody could possibly be confused.
Aldgate: Somewhere round the bend from Tower Hill, the destination on the front of the train changed. It no longer said CIRCLE LINE, it said HAMMERSMITH (via Shepherd's Bush). The 'Next train' indicator, however, still read 'Circle Line via King's Cross'.
Liverpool Street to Baker Street: The front of the train said HAMMERSMITH (via Shepherd's Bush), and the 'next train' indicators on the platforms also said 'Hammersmith'. There were absolutely no trains labelled CIRCLE LINE. I wonder how many passengers over the weekend waited patiently for a Circle Line service that never ever arrived.
Baker Street: An A3 poster had been slapped over the line map on this platform, advising passengers of the "Restricted service this weekend, no Circle line service from this platform". I suspect that most people never read it. (Oh, and btw, same again next weekend!)
Edgware Road (platform 4): The train driver did sterling work reading out all the important options for those changing lines. Going to Hammersmith? Stay on. Going to Paddington? Stay on. Going to Wimbledon? Get off and cross (easily) to platform 3. Going to High Street Kensington? Erm, well, maybe the next train's from platform 3, or maybe it's up and over the steps to platform 2, I'm not sure, listen for announcements. This is likely to become a much-despised connection in the future, trying desperately to work out which train's leaving next from one of two non-adjacent platforms.
Paddington (H&C): In the past, most passengers trying to get from King's Cross to Paddington would have arrived at Paddington (District & Circle) station. It's well positioned for the Mainline concourse, and connects easily with Bakerloo line services. In future, after the Circle line splits, everybody's going to end up at Paddington (H&C) station instead. This is a nasty small station with inadequate exits, located a long way away from most of the mainline services, and requiring considerable unpleasant yomping of heavy luggage. Expect a higher number of missed connections in the future.
Royal Oak to Hammersmith: Fantastic. The split-Circle arrangement brings twice as many trains to Hammersmith, so West London residents are the true winners here. For the rest of us, alas, this change means all change. Prepare to hate it.

Hammersmith & Circle

2009-06-28T07:00:00.005+01:00

You won't have spotted it on the TfL website (it's ridiculously well hidden). You won't have spotted it in the 27/28 June service changes leaflet available at stations (it's in millimetre-high text on the map, concealed in the key). You might have spotted it in TfL's weekly engineering works email:

Circle line: Customers travelling between Bayswater and Baker Street in either direction will need to change trains at Edgware Road as there will be no through service.

But I wonder, even now, if you've spotted the significance. It's all because later this year TfL are planning to break the Circle line apart at Edgware Road, sending anti-clockwise trains to terminate at Hammersmith instead. No more round-and-round services, not after December. And this weekend they're having a practice to see how it works. Or, indeed, if it works. Yesterday, to find out for myself, I became one of the very first passengers to ride the nu-Circle line in its entirety. And once was enough.

An extended Circle line journey
Hammersmith → Edgware Road (via Liverpool Street)

Hammersmith: You don't usually see Circle line trains at Hammersmith [photo], and for good reason - there's no orbital track at a station with buffers. But there were Circle line trains departing every ten minutes yesterday, even though they were very hard to spot. There were no signs and no announcements admitting that anything untoward was going on, nor that there might be a yellow cuckoo in the pink H&C nest. No clues either on the "next train" indicator, because this only shows which of the three platforms is leaving first, not where that train is going. Doesn't normally matter, does it? Every train departing Hammersmith is going to Paddington, King's Cross and Whitechapel, then maybe on to Plaistow or Barking. But times are no longer normal. Rears of trains are not to be trusted, so the only way to find out where they're heading is to walk right up to the far end, to the driver's cab, and to read the destination shown on the front. It definitely said WHITECHAPEL on the front of mine when I boarded. But I think the driver tweaked it before he set off, because I stayed on the train right to the end and we didn't go to Whitechapel, we went to Edgware Road. Twice.
Wood Lane: There are no "next train" indicators here, nor at any station between Hammersmith and Paddington. That's probably why passengers waiting on the platform were giving us funny looks as a CIRCLE LINE train pulled in. No, really, it's true. Just climb aboard and stop worrying, because I bet you're not going any further than Liverpool Street anyway.
Paddington: That's Paddington H&C. I'd be visiting the other Paddington underground station later. It would have been quicker to walk (or indeed crawl).
Edgware Road (platform 1): In we pulled for the first time. Eventually we'd be pulling into the adjacent platform [photo], in the same direction, after a whistlestop tour of Central London. But not for another hour. One 'normal' circuit of the age-old Circle line ahead.
Baker Street: It was only at this point that I noticed something strange. Audio silence. Usually there's a disembodied voice announcing the names of each station and where the train's heading, but on this service there was nothing. Quite pleasant, actually, but very odd.
King's Cross St Pancras: Onward, ever onward. All the next train indicators on all the platforms along this northern rim were showing the train as a CIRCLE LINE service, because it was, and absolutely no passengers were confused by anything at all. The clockwise nu-Circle line journey's none too confusing round here, thankfully.
Liverpool Street: But did we get an announcement confirming that the next stop was Aldgate, not Aldgate East? Did we hell.
Aldgate: See, I told you we weren't going to Whitechapel. Anybody who'd boarded at Hammersmith expecting this to be a normal H&C service would be pretty annoyed at this point. But nobody in their right mind would do that, would they, not when the District Line offers a more direct service.
Tower Hill: After a long pause at Aldgate, the train chugged round to Tower Hill and lots of people got on. Then, when the doors closed and we set off, the driver was finally able to switch on the on-board announcements. "This is a Circle line train via Liverpool Street and King's Cross. The next station is Aldgate." Oops. Most of the newly-boarded foreign passengers (and there were many) looked troubled by this and hurriedly checked their maps. Damn, it looked like they must have got on the wrong train at Tower Hill, damn. One Japanese gentlemen even stood up to alight at the next station, thinking he'd need to catch a train back the other way. And then the train arrived at Monument instead. He quickly deduced that the rogue announcement must have been driver error, not passenger error, and sat back down again.
Cannon Street: "This is a Circle line train via Embankment and Victoria. The next station is Mansion House." That's more like it.
Embankment: Busy along here, huh? I was glad I'd grabbed a seat 23 stations ago, because everybody boarding here was having to stand.
Westminster: The train still said CIRCLE LINE on the front, but here we got the first admission from our driver that this might not be a normal Circle line service after all. "Customers are reminded that this Circle Line service terminates at Edgware Road. To continue your onward journey please cross to Platform 1 at Edgware Road." A bit premature, maybe, but we'd had absolutely no clues before this (and wouldn't get another before Paddington).
South Kensington: Ohmigodohmigod. My carriage was suddenly invaded by a troupe of French schoolchildren, fresh from a visit to the London Transport Museum. I had to endure several uncomfortable minutes of Gallic giggling, and bottles of water being passed in front of my face, and being stared at intently by a boy called Clement.
Gloucester Road: "This is a Circle line train via High Street Kensington and Paddington." True!
High Street Kensington: "This is a Circle line train via Paddington and Baker Street." False! The driver was forced to switch off the on-board announcements after this, because the system couldn't yet cope with the new premature stopping arrangements.
Bayswater: Hurrah, Clément et ses amis est descendu. And the train still said CIRCLE LINE on the front, even though it was terminating at EDGWARE ROAD.
Paddington: One stop from the Circle's end, and the driver finally got round to mentioning that we weren't going much further. "Customers are reminded that this train terminates at Edgware Road." Bad luck for all those suitcase-laden souls who'd arrived at Paddington on mainline trains from the West, because they'd only be able to travel one stop before having to change trains again. This proposed Circle line severance isn't going to please everybody.
Edgware Road (platform 2): An hour and twenty minutes after setting out I was back at Edgware Road "where this train terminates. All change please, all change." And that's where things got messy...

I'll tell you tomorrow about what an organisational nightmare Edgware Road was.
Plus I'll tell you why the anti-clockwise nu-Circle line is likely to be even more confusing.

AFD

2009-06-27T07:00:00.007+01:00

Today for the first time in the UK, it's Armed Forces Day.

The first Armed Forces Day is 27 June 2009, and is an opportunity for the nation to show our support for the men and women who make up the Armed Forces community: from currently serving troops to Service families, and from veterans to recruits.

And I'm sorry, but I don't care.

Let me clarify that statement. I have enormous respect for anyone who chooses to serve in our Armed Forces. I always pause on Remembrance Sunday to remember the fallen soldiers who protected our freedom during two World Wars. And I give thanks that I live in a country where national service remains optional. But I've really never felt the urge to stand up in public and support our lads for all the killing, and avoidance of killing, that they do. I'll do respect, but I can't do pride.

And yet so many people support our Armed Forces unequivocally. If anybody even mentions 'Our Lads', they're ready with a volley of praise. When there's a foreign war on, they're the ones with a Union Flag fluttering from the bathroom window. And when a platoon of local troops returns from foreign service, they're out on the street cheering everyone back at the homecoming parade. I'm not mocking their pro-military attitude in any way. But I just don't get it myself.

• I'VE GOT MY FLAG AND BEERS READY. GOD BLESS ALL OUR TROOPS. (Brian Morgan via Facebook)
• Proud of every one of them. They are not praised enough for what they do or have to put up with. Good Luck to them all. (Sue Jenkins via Facebook)
• Long overdue, having stood and watched an American Vet take their flag down at Disney with MASSIVE support from everyone there its about time UK recognises past and present servicemen. (Mick Warner via Facebook)
• We should all be proud of all our Armed Services. They all do an amazing job and are an inspiration to us all. If only the thugs on the street had half the guts these brave men and women have the world would be a much better place!!! (Gwen Anderson via Facebook)

OK, I can understand this reverence if you've been in the forces yourself, or if a member of your family has enlisted and is serving abroad. But what draws folk with no military connections to become devoted flag-wavers for our armed forces? Why do so many follow the tabloid line that Our Lads are to be venerated alongside celebrities and footballers? What is it about this one particular public service that inspires such elevated levels of pride in so many, whereas (for example) our doctors and nurses slog on week after week unrecognised?

The military has a great friend in Sun readers - shown in your fantastic response to homecoming parades and the excellent Help for Heroes campaign. I know you'll join me and give the first Armed Forces Day your support, so that it is the success our troops, their families and veterans deserve. (Gordon Brown, writing in today's Sun)

Sorry, but I won't be out at any of today's special events in a show of appreciative congratulation. To be honest I don't see the need for a special Armed Forces Day at all. But thanks for being there all the same.

Science Museum 100

2009-06-26T01:00:00.005+01:00

Happy 100th birthday to the Science Museum.
They had cake on Wednesday evening. Bet you missed it.

It's not the building that's 100, nor the collection inside, but the museum's name and identity. For it was on June 26th 1909 that the "Science Museum" formally split itself off from the V&A across the road. Originally the South Kensington Museum, this repository started off as a museum of the industrial and decorative arts, funded from the success of 1851's nearby Great Exhibition. The steady accumulation of apparatus and instruments during the 19th century created a growing technological nucleus, until eventually the separation of the artistic and scientific collections became necessary. And it's the centenary of that divide which is being celebrated today.

If you've not been down to the Science Museum since you were a kid, you may not have realised that it's changed. If you have offspring of your own, however, you're probably more than familiar with the place. The heart of the collection's still reassuringly familiar, but there's now a lot more now to appeal to a younger more interactive generation. Oh yes, the Science Museum is a sprightly centenarian, and no mistake.

Once you've got past the two shops near the entrance, most people start by exploring the Making the Modern World gallery. This is a timeline of world-changing artefacts extending the length of the ground floor (with a darkroom of space artefacts positioned anachronistically along the way). Ten exhibits have recently been picked out as special Centenary icons, and these are marked by a special plaque on the floor alongside. You're invited to stand in awe in front of each amazing object in turn, and then vote for which of the ten you believe to be the most groundbreaking afterwards.

First up is the steam engine, invented two centuries before this museum was born, and then the rather younger V2 rocket, whose engine transformed the way we think about warcraft and propulsion. A few of the ten are included because of what they represent, not because the example on show is anything particularly special. An electric telegraph, a Model T Ford, a model of the DNA double helix. But a few are the breathtaking genuine article. That's Stephenson's Rocket, the first proper steam locomotive, so close that you can almost touch it (please don't). The specks in that tiny brass case are mouldy samples used by Alexander Fleming to isolate penicillin in the 1930s. And that squat cone-shaped metal box at the far end of the gallery, the one with the seriously burnt bottom - that's been round the Moon, that has. It's the actual Apollo 10 capsule, part of a dress rehearsal for the lunar landings 40 years ago, and here it is for you to view in deepest Kensington. What's not to love?

Keep going and you'll reach the newest part of the museum, the high and airy Wellcome Wing. There are some push-button futuristic screen bits on the upper floors, but this extension's really about making money. Buy your tickets for the IMAX 3D cinema here ('U' certificate only), or maybe stop off to purchase the results of an experiment involving coffee beans, lactose and boiling water. Just don't go looking for the excellent Launchpad in the basement - they've moved the hands-on physics extravaganza up to the third floor. Note to interested adults: you'll have more fun (and get fewer funny looks) if you take an eight-year-old with you.

But you'll find the genuine Science Museum tucked away on some of the other floors, away from the major attractions. Many of these areas haven't been upgraded in years, and visiting cub scout groups show their displeasure by nipping hurriedly through the heritage displays in seconds. The Mathematics section, for example, still looks as if a bunch of 1950s geometry teachers made some 3D shapes out of coloured card and then bunged in a few slide rules and pairs of compasses for good measure. The Computing area, once cutting edge, is now lodged firmly in a historical era of cogs, valves and chip-fitted Sinclair calculators. And the Maritime galleries contain an unfeasibly large collection of diving helmets, oil-rig drill-bits and propeller shafts. The number of model ships gathered here verges on the obsessive, and on entering yet another aisle to see yet another British Empire steamboat in a glass case it's easy to imagine that you're still seeing the museum as it was 100 years ago.

If you've not been back to the Science Museum lately, maybe this weekend would be a good choice. Three days of special centenary events kick off today and run through until Sunday, and will no doubt attract large crowds. Alternatively, why not wait and sneak in midweek before the school summer holidays begin. Then maybe you can go stand on the flat-packed plastic suspension bridge without being knocked over, or go play on the pulleys in the Launchpad when nobody's looking, or just go and admire the very finest technological exhibits laid out in all their glory. The Science Museum is for kids, but it's not just for kids. And 100 years on, its history is still the future.

Bow bus update

2009-06-25T07:00:00.007+01:00

Warning: minority interest post
Bow's buses are changing. Changing a bit, anyway. And I know that some of my readers actually live round here, and occasionally catch buses, and might care, so here's the heads-up.
Other readers may want to come back tomorrow, when I'll be visiting somewhere you've actually been.

Route 8: Bow Church - Victoria
It's five years this month since London's beloved Routemasters were withdrawn from Route 8, which kicks off in Bow. Five years on something else is being withdrawn, at the end of service tomorrow, and that's the last mile of the route. Number 8s have been chugging down to Victoria since 1992, but from Saturday they'll be stopping short and terminating at Oxford Circus. There's a good reason for this curtailment, apparently, which is that Oxford Street is seriously over-stuffed with buses. By stopping the number 8s short there'll be 20 fewer buses an hour clogging up the 500 metres of road between Oxford Circus and Bond Street stations, and every little helps. To make up for this break of service, and to ensure that buses still serve the middle of Mayfair, another route is being extended. Buses on Camden route C2 (which currently terminate at Oxford Circus) will now continue down to Victoria, carefully avoiding Oxford Street along the way. East London residents will then need to take two buses to get to Victoria, not one, which'll cost a few pay-as-you-go users twice as much. On the plus side, however, a shorter journey for the 8 ought to make the service more regular and reliable.

Route N8: Hainault - Victoria
The N8's also being cut back from Victoria to Oxford Circus. Need to get a night bus from Victoria to East London? Sorry, but from Saturday no single bus will take you further than Liverpool Street.

Route 15: Blackwall - Paddington
The 15 may not stop in Bow, but many of the fleet are currently based at Bow Bus Garage in Fairfield Road. Not after tomorrow, though. From Saturday they're all being transferred to West Ham Garage, a huge new complex built as overspill to make up for lost garages within the Olympic Park. Yes, I know, who cares. But...

Route 15 (heritage): Tower Hill - Trafalgar Square
TfL still run two Routemaster services, one of which is on route 15. Ten old buses are used to run the timetable, and the entire stock is currently held at Bow Garage. This means that the buses have to run empty into town from Bow in the morning, and trundle back to Bow at night. So if I'm ever outside my house at quarter past nine in the morning, there's often a big red Routemaster trundling by on its way to the City. The sight never fails to make me smile, because it means that RMs linger on in Bow even five years after they were officially culled. But not any more, not after tomorrow. On Saturday these heritage Routemasters are also being relocated to West Ham Garage. Off will come the "BW" plate outside the driver's cab, to be replaced no doubt by a less local "WH". And I'll never see these characterful workhorses chugging round Bow Church again, which is a damned shame. Ding ding.

Route 25: Ilford - Oxford Circus
It's five years tomorrow since bendy buses were first introduced on Route 25. Sorry, they're not changing at all. By rights the 5-year contract ought to be ending this weekend, but a two year extension means Boris can't remove Bow's bendies until at least 2011.

Route 205: Mile End - Paddington
And one bit of good news for local residents, but you'll have to wait a bit. At the moment there's only one bus that goes down Bow Road to central London and that's the 25. From 29th August there'll be another, because the 205 is being extended from Mile End to Bow Church. At last, a choice of bus that isn't bendy. At last, a choice of central London destination that isn't Oxford Circus. And (even better) the 205's a 24 hour service, so if you're staggering east to E3 after a heavy night out and the bendy 25s are full, at last there's an alternative. You lose some, you win some.

Air con

2009-06-24T07:00:00.006+01:00

Was it a bit warm on your tube train yesterday? Aww, poor you. Then you'll probably have been over-excited by this report in yesterday's Evening Standard, which I've reproduced below. Don't be over-excited. Here's why.

Cooler summer for commuters as Mayor unveils aircon Tube
That's a very carefully worded headline. It says nothing untrue, but you've probably read far too much into it. The cooler summer won't be this summer. Only a minority of commuters will benefit. And all Boris did was unveil the first fruits of a project launched by Ken. Don't be over-excited. And don't read too much into it.

The Tube has its first air-conditioned train.
That's one train. The Tube may have 500-or-so trains, but so far only one has air-conditioning. And it's not in service yet.
Mayor Boris Johnson said passengers will be "terrifically impressed".
Emphasis there on the word "will".

He said: "For thousands of clammy Tube passengers some relief is finally in sight.
The Tube has millions of clammy passengers. Alas, relief is only "in sight" for thousands.
We have now begun testing the first of 191 super cool and spacious new trains."
You know why the new trains are spacious, don't you? It's because there'll be fewer seats, so you'll be more likely to have to stand. Cool, but not necessarily comfortable.

Mr Johnson, who boarded the new air-conditioned train at an Oxford test track, said: "Having taken it for a test run myself I can vouch that passengers are going to be terrifically impressed."
The test track's actually in Leicestershire, not Oxford. Here's a website about the Old Dalby track, including some photos taken this week. And the first train started test runs there in March, it's just that Boris didn't visit until yesterday.

He said the air conditioning "will keep passengers comfortable whatever the weather".
"more comfortable", maybe. It'll be lovely to sit in an air conditioned train during a heatwave, but that won't stop your fellow passengers from ramming into the carriages like cattle.

All the trains to have air-conditioning will operate on the subsurface lines.
That's really important to know, because there are only four sub-surface lines. Passengers on the other seven lines will continue to overheat for the foreseeable future.
The first will run on the Metropolitan line, to be followed by the Circle, District and Hammersmith & City.
The correct order is actually Metropolitan first (starting 2010), then Circle and Hammersmith & City (starting 2011), and finally District (starting 2013). The final upgraded train won't be in service until 2015, at least six summers hence, and ten years after plans to introduce aircon were first agreed.

However, the cooler trains won't be in service until next summer.
You're still reading far too much into this, aren't you? Please, don't expect the entire Metropolitan stock to change overnight. The new air-conditioned trains can only be introduced at a rate of one every 10 days, so during 2010 you'll still be more likely to get on board an old hot one than a new cool one.

And for commuters using the deep level lines, such as the Victoria, Central and Northern, it will be years before they get relief from the sweltering conditions. These lines were built long before air conditioning was developed and there is no space for such bulky equipment in the narrow tunnels.
Oh this is so important. The deep level trains are staying hot and sweaty, and don't kid yourself otherwise. This aircon-lessness isn't because Boris doesn't care, and it isn't because there's not enough money, it's because upgrading them would be wholly impractical. Deep tube tunnels are narrower than the subsurface tunnels, so the trains have to be smaller, so there's no room to cram aircon equipment and passengers into the carriages. When you're feeling hot and sweaty down the Bakerloo, blame the Victorians, not the Mayor.

The Mayor said: "Cooling the deeper lines remains a considerable challenge. A crack team of Transport for London engineers is focused on that and is concentrating on the Victoria line in particular."
Don't get your hopes up. The crack engineers are focusing on the stations, not the trains. Brand new Victoria line carriages are arriving imminently, and they won't have any aircon at all.

The Tube's 3.5 million daily users face yet another long, hot and very sweaty summer with in-train temperatures expected to reach as high as 47C which can cause some passengers to pass out.
Do let us know when this long, hot and very sweaty summer begins, won't you? It's Midsummer's Day already, and I can't say my daily commute's come anywhere close to Death Valley meltdown yet.

Measures to keep the ageing network cool have been hit by funding cuts. Instead Tube bosses will resurrect their old campaign of advising passengers to carry bottled water with them, not board a train if they feel unwell and to get off at the next stop if they start to feel ill.
Faced with the choice of a multi-million pound rolling stock upgrade or a few bottles of water, guess what, TfL's plumped for the water. And that's absolutely the right choice, if you ask me. It gets unpleasantly hot on the underground for a few weeks every year, but far better to put up with that and spend the money on something that'll be of benefit all year round. Something like new signalling, or modernised stations, or repaired track - something genuinely useful. Tube passengers really need to pull themselves together and stop moaning about something which makes a few summer hours not quite as pleasant as they could be. Air con - it'll be nice to have, but it's hardly the end of the world without it.

Street Pianos

2009-06-23T07:00:00.004+01:00

Have you seen one yet? One of the Street Pianos? They're dotted around central London, out in the open, waiting for you to turn up and play. 30 upright pianos, of the kind you might find in a church hall or a Victorian parlour, left out in the elements for the enjoyment of the capital's populace. Don't worry, they've all got a plastic cover for protection, so if it rains they shouldn't get soaked.

The project's entitled Play me, I'm yours, and the whole thing's a performance artwork devised by multidisciplinarian Luke Jerram^*. London's not the first place he's tried this. Pianos have previously been scattered across Sao Paulo, Sydney, Birmingham and (oh yes) Bury St Edmunds. Apparently Bristol's next, and they'll be getting fresh instruments because all of London's are being donated to local schools and community groups. Assuming they don't all get nicked, that is.

You can find the 30 musical locations on the Street Pianos website. Each piano has its own page where you can see photos and post comments, and maybe even upload details of a keyboard-related singalong you've got planned. Don't worry if you don't have any music, there's a songbook attached to every instrument. All the classics are included - Hey Jude, The Lambeth Walk, I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing, Nellie The Elephant. It's lovely idea, especially if you can actually play, or sing, or at least drunkenly tinkle.^**

The City's pianos were installed at the end of last week, so I trooped round over the weekend to see how they were being used. Here's what I found...

• St Mary Axe (opposite the Gherkin): It being the weekend, all the local City workers had gone home and the piano lurked unnoticed beneath a tree.
• Leadenhall Market: Another weekend deadspot, but I found it easily enough outside a shuttered fishmongers. I thought I'd have a play, so I tapped out the first phrase of Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head with one finger. My only audience was a workman up a ladder who'd been busy dropping paint scrapings onto the keyboard. Thankfully he failed to sing along.
• Liverpool Street Station (main exit): I didn't find this one. I'd made the mistake of printing out the map on the website which led me to the wrong "main exit". Ah well.
• London Wall: I didn't find this one either, because the pin on the website map was in completely the wrong place. If only I'd read the dedicated webpage before I left the house I'd have found it, but I didn't. Take heed, oh piano hunters.
• Royal Exchange Buildings: Another piano not quite where the map said it was, but I found this one by the tube station entrance. So did a passing group of four European tourists who lifted the plastic cover and attempted to take arty photos of one another playing. They also managed a recognisable chunk of Do Re Mi.
• Brown's (Old Jewry): This one's a grand piano, but it's a bit of a cheat. It's not in the street, it's inside a restaurant. It's only available to play between 9am and noon, before paying lunch punters arrive. And it's accessible weekdays only. I saw nothing.
• St Mary-le-Bow Churchyard: Another lonely sidelined instrument, being stared at (but not used) by coffee-drinking punters in the cafe nextdoor. Rather more popular midweek, it appears.
• St Mary Aldermary: Piano inside church. Closed Fridays, closed weekends, closed after 3:30pm (and closed during lunchtime services). Don't wait until the weekend to explore this project, you'll be disappointed.^***
• Paternoster Square: Blatantly positioned, and an object of intermittent interest. "Oh I've heard of this," said one woman to her significant other, before walking past. A couple of families stopped to allow their small children to climb up onto the stool and pretend to play. I hung around for five minutes, but no tunes emerged.
• St Paul's Churchyard: Big churchyard, didn't find it, couldn't hear it either.
• Millennium Bridge (north side): At last, a crowd. Piano + footfall = atmosphere.^**** A group of boys had stopped by (more public school than inner city estate), and one got busy showing off his classical skills to the assembled youngsters. Piano + talent = rare. But he played nothing anybody else knew. Piano + singing = non-existent.

*This is not a Boris-inspired part of the Story of London Festival (Luke seems quite keen that people realise this).
** London's Street Pianos will be available for creative mayhem until July 14th.
*** Michael toured the City pianos over the weekend, and found them similarly underused.
**** The piano in Soho Square looked rather livelier last night. Could be a winner, this.

Harrington Hill

2009-06-22T07:00:00.008+01:00

If you were hunting down the perfect place to live to a ripe old age, you probably wouldn't pick Hackney.

Hackney is one of the most health deprived areas in the country. The majority of the borough falls within the top 30-40% of health deprived areas in the country and rates poorly on most health indicators. Average life expectancy is 77.7 years which is below both the London and England averages. On a national scale, the borough ranks 218th out of 352 local authorities for women and 316th for men.

So it might come as a surprise to discover that the world's oldest man was born and raised in Hackney. He's 113-year-old Henry Allingham - last survivor of the Battle of Jutland, last surviving founding member of the Royal Air Force and one of only two surviving WW1 veterans. Henry was elevated to the official status of "world's oldest man" last Friday, on the death of the previous Japanese incumbent. You might have seen him laying a wreath at the Cenotaph last November, because he still gets about a bit and commands the respect of a grateful nation. Admittedly Henry doesn't live in Hackney any more. His family crossed the Lea to Walthamstow when he was only 12, and today he lives in a servicemen's home near Brighton. But he's a Hackney boy deep down. So I thought I'd hunt down his childhood home to investigate the secret of his longevity.

Henry Allingham was born in Clapton on June 6th 1896 (that's D-Day, but 48 years too early). According to the Hackney council website - and they ought to know - Henry's childhood home was on Harrington Hill. That's not at the "Murder Mile" end of Lower Clapton, it's in leafier riverside Upper Clapton. North of the pond, north of the station, in a sloping hinterland of residential avenues and more recent apartment infill. Much has changed round here, and Henry wouldn't recognise many surviving buildings from his time in the street, but there's still a bit left if you look carefully.

Harrington Hill's a surprisingly steep street leading down to the banks of the River Lea, which you'll probably have spotted if you've ever walked along Walthamstow Marshes near the railway arches. At the water's edge on High Hill Ferry is a tiny white-topped pub, the Anchor and Hope - inaccessible from the footpath opposite but still very popular during the summer months. It was closed when I arrived, but one elderly 'resident' had made his home on the bench outside. He was fast asleep beneath a grotty black sleeping bag, and I'm assuming the bicycle (with a pannier full of blue plastic bags) propped up alongside was his too. I wouldn't give much for his life expectancy, but in this world-beating street who knows?

The road's amazing in one respect, which is for the number of different architectural styles crammed into its 200 metre descent. Alas most are not lovely. I hope that Henry grew up in one of the four remaining Victorian cottages halfway up on the southern side. They're sturdy terraced homes, at least two up and two down, with brickwork cornices and characterful porches. Nextdoor are two pale modern imitations, with tiny windows and pre-built loft extensions, each with a parking space in lieu of a front garden. And everyone else in Harrington Hill lives in a flat.

Immediately behind the pub are the five-storey brick blocks of the High Hill Estate. They were built by the London County Council in the 1930s, and replaced older Victorian stock prone to repeated flooding. And these are the relatively nice flats. A blander late 20th century block rises opposite, presenting a featureless face of wall and window to the street. Further up are a pair of older buildings with chimneystacked roofs, their exterior white paint peeling, divided up into non-luxury living spaces within. And near the summit, blocking the view east from the primary school playground, rises a particularly charm-free eight-storey tower. It's fortunate that Henry escaped when he did, else some 1970s housing officer might have allocated him a fully-plumbed prison cell in the sky.

To get a proper flavour of Henry's childhood home, check out Baker's Hill which runs parallel down to the Lea. Two chunks of Victorian terrace survive intact, admittedly now with proper fitted kitchens and inside toilets to make home life considerably easier. And one other feature remains mostly the same, which is the great view out across the flat green expanse of Walthamstow Marshes. Maybe it's Harrington Hill's refreshing riverside location that's the true secret of Henry's longevity (or maybe I'm reading too much into the whole thing). Whatever, I hope that locals at the Anchor and Hope will raise a glass to the continued good health of an improbable child born right up their street. Live long in Hackney, and prosper.

Croxley Revels

2009-06-21T08:00:00.013+01:00

Metro-land revisited
The Croxley Green Revels

"Onward, onwards, north of the border, down Hertfordshire way.
The Croxley Green Revels - a tradition that stretches back to 1952.
For pageantry is deep in all our hearts
and this, for many a girl, is her greatest day"
John Betjeman at Croxley Green ("Metro-land", BBC, 1973)

You may never have been to the Croxley Green Revels, but you've probably seen John Betjeman waxing semi-lyrical about it [two minutes into this YouTube clip, if you haven't]. He stopped by in the early 70s to observe the Queen of the Revels in procession round the village, then gently mocked the fair's pomp and faux-heritage before rushing on to some architectural delight in Chorleywood. I, on the other hand, have been to the Croxley Green Revels many times, because this is the village where I grew up. I don't appear in the documentary but I'd have been there somewhere, standing out in my front garden to watch the procession go by, or stuffing my face with an ice cream cornet on the village green afterwards. Yesterday I went back to Croxley on Revels afternoon, after a couple of absent decades, to see if anything much had changed. And, reassuringly, not really.

Quarter to two along New Road, and families still emerge into their tiny terraced front gardens to watch the parade go by. Some stocky dads lean over the fence with lager in hand, others seat their children in canvas chairs at the roadside to get the best view. In my day the Queen of the Revels used to lead the parade on the back of a haycart, sat amongst a court of giggling teenage girls wearing cloaks made out of glossy curtain fabric. Nowadays the chosen form of transport is an electric blue Ford Consul, and the royal party has been downgraded to one miniature princess with three attendants from the local primary schools. The usual motley selection of dressed-up lorries follow on behind, no less imaginatively themed than before although rather fewer in number than I remember. Most of the participants are schoolkids or churchgoers, with smiling OAPs and vintage penny-farthing riders interspersed for good measure. Be patient, normal through traffic will be restored just as soon as the lady in the Fairtrade banana costume has waddled through.

Everyone in the village (if you can call a dormitory suburb with twelve thousand residents a village) then wanders up to the top of the Green for all the fun of the fair. No big wheels or waltzers here, this is a rather tamer affair set around a central arena. Various community organisations are out in force running their own stalls, from crockery smashing with the Scouts to the local church's pancake tent. Spend your pennies wisely and you might go home with a pot plant, a Victoria sponge or even something big and inflatable. I was pleased to find a few lambs penned up in one corner as a reminder of the area's rural past, and relieved not to win a box of lavender smellies in the Macmillan Cancer tombola. Splat a teacher, fish for a rubber duck and queue for a barbecued burger - this event hasn't changed in years.

The focus of the afternoon is always the central arena. This is where the Revels princess gets crowned, and also where she reads a speech from a scroll to "my people in Croxley Green". Neither her tiara nor her proclamation has changed since 1972, I noted reassuringly (even if her throne now looks suspiciously like a garden chair with a bit of gold material thrown over it). Page boy Owen, however, was no doubt relieved that his headgear was a jaunty top hat rather than the embarrassing black floppy felt number of yesteryear.

Several of Croxley's more active associations get to showcase their activities in the arena during the afternoon, giving mums and dads a chance to ooh and ahh at the assembled tiny dancers and taekwondo white belts. And this is also where the maypole dancing takes place. This rural tradition is taken very seriously in Croxley Green, far more so than in most other UK villages, so much so that my upper junior class was drafted into forming the ribbon-twirling squad back in the 1970s. I was very good at it, apparently, but thankfully no cinefilm of my pole dance survives. These days the Brownies perform the honours, and yesterday they did a fine job of skipping in circles until a disastrously tangled "Double Braid" proved their undoing.

Almost everything about the event felt somehow familiar, even down to the happy crowds of young and old milling around the Revels site. But one thing had undoubtedly changed, and that was who they all were. I walked around all afternoon barely recognising anybody, not a soul, that I once knew. All my old schoolmates had moved on, or at least grown up and disguised their features behind wrinkled brows, middle age spread and grey-specked hair. I couldn't be sure, but maybe that was them watching their kids performing in the maypole dancing or footballing display - a generation removed, a tradition maintained. Croxley's community may have transformed, but this New Elizabethan custom shows no sign of dying out yet.

Revels 1975
• The 1975 Revels Queen on her horse-drawn cart (beautifully decorated, Mum)
• The Queen and her entourage tour the streets of Croxley Green
• All the fun of the "Knock Down The Cans" stall
• Watching a dodgy clown making balloon animals

Revels 2009
• Period boneshakers in the Procession round the village
• The Revels Princess reading out her proclamation
• Brownies managing not to mess up the maypole dancing
• Revels crowds haven't changed much since the 70s

Gallowatch: expenses

2009-06-20T08:00:00.007+01:00

Gallowatch: Even though the expenses scandal has been going on for weeks, thus far my MP appears to have escaped the worst of it. Surely the Right Honourable George Galloway, member for Bethnal Green and Bow, must have a few dodgy skeletons in his financial closet. Could reporters at the Telegraph possibly have missed something during their six week scrutiny? Can citizen journalism bring down the career of Gorgeous George? Or is this smooth operator clean as a whistle? I thought I'd find out.

It's long been possible to track GG's Parliamentary attendance record. From this we discover that George has only spoken in three Westminster debates this year, and only bothered to turn up and vote four times. More wasteful of time than of money, it would seem. And now it's possible to uncover similarly detailed information about his reimbursed costs. All of George's Incidental Expenses have been published and are in the public domain (admittedly with big black bits crossed out), so I've had a delve to see what I could find.

Ohmigod, George is a secret stationery fetishist. Two packs of gel pens at £12.27 each. A black stapler at £3.56. Two pairs of 54p scissors. Seventy-five quid's worth of black, blue and red rollerballs. Two packs of glossy photocopier paper, at £8 a time. Ten wirebound A5 jotta pads, totalling £18.20. A Scotch Magic Tape Strip refill, or two, at £1.46 each. This man seems to have a hotline to Banner Office Supplies.

And he loves buying computer equipment. An £1199 computer in February 2007. An £1199 laptop in December 2007. Various Dell printer cartridges for £365 + VAT in July 2006. A hundred quid keyboard in April 2006. But nothing scandalous.

And he bought a fanheater for £16.99, because February 2006 was chilly.

And he travels in taxis. Various taxi receipts for about £12 each. All of nine times in two years, if I read the archives properly.

And he buys mystery things that cost £66.37, only I have absolutely no idea what they are because everything relevant has been ██████ out. Imagine what criminally wasteful overspend this might be. Or most probably not.

And he spends pays someone to maintain his website. £1575 to create it, then 12 hours a week at £30 an hour thereafter to maintain and update it. Ten thousand quid in six months. That's rather a lot, by the sound of it, given what a not-terribly dynamic website it is. As a constituent, I wouldn't say he's using his communication allowance terribly effectively.

But, all things considered, George's history of backdated claims is distinctly underwhelming. And I for one am appalled. How dare my MP spend so little! When everyone else in the Commons is haemorrhaging public money left, right and centre, how dare my East End representative be so restrained. Why aren't we feeling the ripple effect of Parliamentary wastage here in Bethnal Green and Bow? If only my MP represented his constituents more diligently, surely he'd be able to extort considerably more cash from the Westminster gravy train. But he hasn't. George's financial timidity is a reflection of his political inactivity, and this makes me very angry indeed. MP's expenses - it's a scandal alright.

Midsummer events guide

2009-06-19T00:20:00.005+01:00

There's a lot of stuff going on in London this weekend. It's like all the organisers sat down at Christmas and thought "When's the optimum weekend of the summer? Must be the weekend with the longest day. Let's time our event for then, the weather's bound to be great." And the summer solstice flicks round just after dawn this Sunday, so there's an event pile-up either side. To help you to pick carefully, here are 20 highlights in dg's midsummer events guide.

Saturday only
» Bank of England Open Door: Twice a year the Old Lady throws open her doors for a half-hour interior tour. See the Governor's Office, and the room where they decide mortgage rates, and explore the museum afterwards. The queues won't be as bad as for Open House Weekend in September, but better arrive early anyway (part of the City of London Festival, which kicks off today)
» Henry VIII's Tudor River Pageant: Watch 500-year-old Hal ride up the Thames from the Tower [10am] to Hampton Court [3pm] (approx flotilla timings here), then join his Coronation Knees-up within the royal palace (admission £18) (feasting continues Sunday)
» The Big Event (& Tea Dance): celebrations, processions and carnivality to mark the reopening of renovated Camberwell Park [2pm-7pm] (includes "mass ukulele jam")
» Tottenham Carnival: Parade [11am] then festivities [from noon] in Bruce Castle Park
» Proactive Festival: Interactive sports and cycling round the Emirates Stadium [noon-6pm] (bring an under-stimulated child)
» Croxley Green Revels: A Metro-land tradition that stretches back to 1952, as immortalised by Betjeman (I've been, several times)

Saturday and Sunday
» Paradise Gardens: annual arty pleasure garden in Victoria Park, featuring circus big top, tea dances, a shed-sized nightclub, live music, Carter's Steam Fair, a village fete, Pearly Queens, street theatre, sideshows, beer and the Ken Fox Wall of Death (always delightfully diverse) (2007 report)
» Street Pianos: A plot to place tinkly instruments on street corners. The 15 City of London pianos should be in place this weekend, with 15 more appearing a bit further out next week (but not much further out)
» Story of London lectures: Two solid days of historical London lectures, at King's Place (the lectures cost £9.50 each, or £60 for all 12, which is a bit steep I reckon)
» Hendon Pageant: Remembering 1944 at the RAF Museum, with all sorts of re-enactments and historic vehicles (try to arrive via wartime-bedecked Colindale tube station) (& there's a Battle of Britain flypast at ten to four on Sunday afternoon)
» A Grand Victorian Fayre: Polo, pig-sticking, soldiers and dance, in the grounds of Kenwood House [11:30am-4pm]
» King Henry's Tudor Joust: More Coronation+500 festivities, this time with knights on horseback, in the grounds of Eltham Palace (admission £12)
» Waterloo Weekend: English Heritage are recreating Wellington's famous battle with vegetables, at Apsley House, as well as doing some more normal historical stuff (11am-5pm) (admission £7)
» Bow Arts Trust Open Studios: My local artist collective invites you to see their warren-like workspace [1pm-5pm]
» Taste of London: Gourmet foodie nibbles in Regent's Park (at a price)

Sunday only
» Exhibition Road Music Day: Celebrate European Music Day with live performance in the middle of the street alongside the museums, and maybe join in a bit [from 10am]
» Enfield Festival of Cycling: Meet Dr Bike, and get cycling [11am-5pm]
» A Step in Time: Living History drop-in weekend at the recently-restored Valentine's Mansion [11am-4pm]
» Gladstonbury Live Music Festival: That's free entertainment in Gladstone Park, Dollis Hill, not the big tentfest in Somerset [1pm-7pm] (photos from last year)

next week
» Greenwich+Docklands International Festival: Spectacular arty marvellousness (do go and see something amazing) (Thu 25 - Sun 28 June)