diamond geezer

Loop 17

2012-05-31T00:17:00.011+01:00

WALK LONDON
The London Loop [section 17]
Cockfosters to Enfield Lock (8½ miles)

London doesn't stop at Cockfosters, you know. The M25 and the border with Hertfordshire are a few miles to the north, across a number of surprisingly rural Green Belt valleys. London Loop section 17 explores this open space, across what remains of the royal deer park of Enfield Chase, from one side of the London borough of Enfield to the other. Enjoy the gap.

It's an inauspicious start. A badly signposted footpath leads off from the station car park at Cockfosters, and if you've not got a map you'll likely be lost in minutes. But the meadows around Church Wood are a welcome sight, and from here on the greenery continues non-stop. It's not long before the Loop crosses the drive up to Trent Park, which I told you all about earlier in the week, and was the main reason I was out this way. But the official route skirts the perimeter, passing through Trent Country Park, and is secure from any future closure the sale of land hereabouts might bring. On a sunny day it's a busy spot, with couples snogging in the long grass and families playing by the ornamental lakes. Ahead is the first hill climb, a gentle ascent into Oak Wood, where a ring of murky water lurks in the trees near the summit. This is Camlet Moat (pictured), a medieval earthwork which may have surrounded a hunting lodge or may be purely ornamental. A little further along (but off the official path) is a more obvious monument, a tall stone obelisk, brought here in the 1930s to celebrate the honeymoon of the Duke and Duchess of Kent.

And then things get much much quieter. Across the summit road lies the valley of the Salmon's Brook, almost entirely undeveloped and given over fully to agriculture. The land's council-owned, and currently home to fields of mostly ripening wheat. The path descends swiftly to the river, which is nothing special, but lined (at present) by a marvellous display of hawthorn blossom. Spend a mile or so following the brook, not that you can really see it, and admire the buttercups bringing a blaze of yellow to the meadowed slopes [photo]. So away from it all is this landscape that the occasional double decker red bus on the ridge is the only hint you're not in the middle of the countryside.

These streams run west to east in parallel fingers, and there's another ascent and descent to reach the next. On the way you'll pass through Brooke Wood, planted in honour of a local councillor 20 years ago, and already a densely shaded habitat. Near the stile on Cuckolds Hill there's a brief view directly into central London. That's the tiny Shard cluster over there, and that's the BT Tower far far further across the horizon than you'd ever expect. Down a long track you pass through Rectory Farm, with its clay pigeon shooting business, and which has probably the only "No Galloping" sign in the whole of London. The stream here is the Turkey Brook, which the Loop then roughly follows all the way down to the Lea. Then beneath the railway, absolutely nothing impressive, to touch the edge of civilisation again.

There are several greenhouses hereabouts, part of the horticultural cluster around Crews Hill. There's a cricket pitch to circumnavigate, where gents in white might be taking an entire day of ball-chucking terribly terribly seriously. And there's a marvellous park - Hilly Fields Park - which is a municipal treat for residents fortunate to live round about. The Turkey Brook is at its heart, much more scenic now, wiggling and meandering in lengthy shoals. Step off the tarmac path beneath a canopy of oaks to enjoy the pebbled shallows, or to let your dog get splashingly wet (if you've brought one with you). I'd say the enclosed grassy slopes of Hilly Fields Park exude a genuine charm that Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park can never hope to emulate.

Near the Rose and Crown, at the entrance to the park, is one of the original London Loop signboards, erected before early funds for the project ran out. Across the road (a rare road, thus far) you'll stumble across original route of the New River, the artificial channel driven from Hertford to Islington, severed and empty. But you're still following the Turkey Brook, along the "Mile and a Quarter Footpath", where beer-chested men sit with rods in flagrant breach of the fishing close season. The path ignores Forty Hall, the most interesting old mansion round these parts, but there is a brief glimpse of its chimneypots across the grass. And eventually you reach Maidens Bridge, which legend says is where Sir Walter Raleigh laid down his cloak for Queen Elizabeth. No, if you've ever stood here, just no, this is more a narrow bridge with traffic lights kind of location.

And that's the good bit over, sorry. The next passageway passes the New River proper, but it's buried. The A10 has to be crossed via a giant footbridge, which completely wrecks the rural ambience of the last seven miles. Alongside Turkey Street, the brook runs in a less than natural urban ditch. The main drag of Enfield Wash is a real shock, all takeaways and tanning salons, but thankfully the Loop turns swiftly left opposite the road where my Mum was born. You'll follow the Turkey Brook one last time along the northern edge of Albany Park, now a deep deep concrete channel to protect adjacent terraces from flooding, but still somehow a verdant home for wildlife. And at the railway line, that's it, the delights of Enfield Lock will have to wait for the start of section 18. The delights of Enfield Chase, however, will long remain.

» London Loop section 17: official map and directions; map
» Who else has walked it? Mark, Stephen, Oatsy, Paul, Tim, Tetra mesh, Richard
» See also section 3, section 4, section 5, section 9, section 15, section 20, section 24

Visit Ongar

2012-05-30T07:00:00.007+01:00

So if you're ever in Ongar, and with the coming of the railway that is fractionally more likely, what could you do? You could get straight back on the train, if you're in a hurry or have zero sense of adventure. You could walk down the High Street to the first pub, which is the Cock Tavern, and lose yourself in real ale. Or you could walk a little longer round Ongar...

i) Start at the noticeboard opposite the library. There's a useful map here with all the sights worth seeing, which should help orientate you. If you're especially prepared you can print out the Millennium Walk leaflet before you arrive. And it's easy to fit all of this in before the next train arrives.
ii) The tall building opposite is Budworth Hall, with its big clock added to commemorate Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee. There are no such grand building projects for the Diamond Jubilee, alas, but there is a heck of a lot of bunting down Ongar High Street. Thieves nicked 30 metres of it last week, which made the front page of the local paper. The other 97% is still flapping patriotically.
iii) The High Street's rather lovely, in a small town Essex way. It's wide and crooked, with an assortment of timber cottages and townhouses all the way down to the river. You probably don't have a Mr Grumpy's Old Fashioned Sweet Shop where you live, but Ongar does. Your local newsagent probably hasn't gone quite so monarchy-tastic in their window display as Senners of Ongar has. You probably don't have the choice of two proper butchers, in almost neighbouring shops, both open on a Sunday. Plus more pubs, and bijou boutiques, and a washeteria, and... Let's just say Mary Portas would adore the place.
iv) Up a charming lane on the left is St Martin's, Ongar's church. It looks proper old, and indeed the belfry and parts of the roof are medieval. However, if you arrive during a christening service you're not going to get inside to take a proper look. Thankfully Ian did on our behalf.
v) Make sure you walk down as far as the fire station, opposite which is a row of white weatherboarded cottages with a famous former resident. Explorer David Livingstone lived in the room marked with a plaque, above the passageway through to the United Reformed church. Livingstone Cottages, I presume.
vi) Walk back up the hill and turn right into Castle Lane. A few houses up is a plaque to former resident Jane Taylor, who's one of the most famous poets you've never heard of. She wrote the words to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, some say here, and is buried in the churchyard over the road.
vii) And finally, if you carry on into the field along the footpath, here's Chipping Ongar Castle. Don't get your hopes up. It's a motte and bailey, of which only the high mound is visible, and that not very clearly through the surrounding trees. A moated ditch still offers protection, as does a large fence. Best viewed, so I'm told, during the winter. And hey presto, at the end of the path, you're back at the library again.

If you have a spare hour, you should definitely take a walk to Greensted Church. Walk past Ongar Sainsbury's, across the river, then straight across the next field and keep going through the trees. It's only a mile, and if you time it right you might even spot a steam engine puffing across the horizon. You won't spot the church at Greensted-juxta-Ongar until you're almost on top of it, tucked away in its compact churchyard, all fresh-mown and floral. But the building is unexpected, being made almost entirely of wood. It's the oldest wooden church in the world, which is pretty damned impressive really for a backwoods hamlet in Essex [upright photo]. It's "Stave Built", including 51 chunky vertical timber planks dating from before the Battle of Hastings, which you'll see best if you walk round the back. Look closer and you'll see a lot of the other beams are more recently restored, but never mind that, it's lovely. Yes, you can go inside every day of the year, which is how churches ought to be, although it's a risky stance to take. A photo on the wall shows the 16th century painting stolen from here back in January, on a Sunday afternoon no less, carefully unscrewed from the wall and wandered off with. Visitors should walk off with jams and chutneys instead - the back of the church is almost market-like, with a wide variety of reasonably priced hand-made preserves on sale. I went for the lemon and lime curd, which I can confirm is gorgeous, although a closer look at the label reveals it comes from an estate in Leicestershire. As for the church's interior, that's a bit dark, with illumination coming through stained glass in small dormer windows. The pews are narrow and lockable, the chancel is compact, the beams overhead are proper oak, and it's all just very wonderfully woody. For a proper report, and sharp people-free photos, go and read what Ian's written. Or better still, pay a pilgrimage yourself.

EOR lowdown

2012-05-30T01:00:00.007+01:00

In case you're thinking of visiting the Epping Ongar Railway, here's where, how much, what and when.
≠ Where: North Weald station or Ongar station, or catch a heritage bus from Epping. The buses run roughly half hourly between roughly 10am and 6pm (see website for details)
≠ How much: £17.50 on special event weekends, £13 normally (and price during the winter to be confirmed) (50p cheaper if bought online)
≠ What: You can travel all day on your ticket, on as many services as you like. But be warned, the appearance of steam trains is not guaranteed (sometimes it's diesels only)
≠ When: Every weekend between now and the end of the year (except the first weekend in December, not that you would). Also bank holidays, Christmas week and the whole of the Olympics. If you're going to be in town for the Games, why not enjoy a day out via the tube at Epping? (It's not like the Central line is going to be hugely crushingly busy.... oh)

And then there are the special event days, brilliantly hidden on the website where you'd never spot them. Here are a few highlights...
≠ Sat 24 June: It's the Ongar Carnival! Ongar doesn't get thrillinger than this.
≠ Sun 1 July: It's the North Weald Bus Rally! Not on site but close by at the airfield, entry £9 (with linking buses).
≠ Sat 7 July: It's Olympic Torch Day! Except the torch drives by in convoy before 7am, and the first train isn't until 10:30.
≠ August Bank Holiday: It's the Big Steam Up gala weekend! There will be mixed traffic.
≠ Sun 16 Sep: It's Railwalk Sunday! With guided walks through the surrounding counytryside.
≠ Last weekend in September: It's End of the Tube! Celebrate the anniversary of tube shutdown in 1994.
≠ Fri 7 Dec: It's the grand switching on of Ongar's Christmas lights! OK, enough now...

Epping Ongar Railway

2012-05-29T01:00:00.004+01:00

It'll never again be a commuter railway. The new train service to Ongar is even less frequent than it used to be, and runs very off-peak, and costs rather more than a tube ticket did. But the Epping Ongar Railway breathes new life into redundant rails, and that's very much to be celebrated. What's more, it's the longest heritage railway in Essex and the closest one to London, which gives the EOR every hope of reeling in passengers. I explained some of what's on offer yesterday. Here's the rest of the attraction.

North Weald station used to be a lonely outpost, beyond Epping Forest, past the big air field. It's much brighter now, or at least it is on a sunny day near the start of summer. There are two platforms, because this was the only passing loop on the line, with the station building on one and the signal box on the other [photo]. A bright green footbridge links the two, a leftover brought in from Loughton down the line, but it's missing something crucial [photo]. But there are no actual stairs, so it's currently unusable. To reach the steam trains on platform 2 you have to walk back out of the station entrance, round a fresh path, across the gated crossing and back up a ramp on the other side. While the railway sources steps, the detour does at least give a brief but special view of parked-up trains [photo]. The signal box provides the best grandstand for viewing proceedings [photo]. It's been lovingly restored, as you might discover if you climb up and they're not too busy pulling levers. Otherwise, if departure time for the hourly train is approaching, best climb aboard.

It's a long train, or at least it was on the opening gala weekend, comprising a multifarious selection of rolling stock. Walk down a bit and you might well get a six-seater compartment to yourself. However, many people seemed to like to crowd the tables in the first carriage, possibly because it was a shorter walk, possibly because it said first class on the window, or more likely because it would be closest to the chuffing steam from the engine [photo]. As pressure builds, prepare for your journey east to Ongar. But don't expect amazing scenery out of the window. This is rural Essex, so all you're going to see is a succession of fields and hedgerows and mildly rolling contours. But this was a glorious sight at the weekend, with yellow fields of rape stretching off to the horizon and abundant white may blossom in close-up. Very little infrastructure intrudes. There are few paths, even fewer roads, and only three bridges along the entire five and a bit mile journey. When one of the only major landmarks along the way is a stumpy mobile phone mast shielded by a coppice, you'd not ride this way for the sightseeing.

Except there is one thing to watch out for, if you're that way inclined, and that's Blake Hall station. So middle-of-nowhere is this halt that they closed it down in 1981, over a decade before the shuttle itself disappeared. The platform was famous, even infamous, by the end of its life for having only six passengers a day. Looking out from the train window at this lonely spot, it's hard to imagine how there were ever that many. A small hamlet is semi-nearby, but the station's named instead after Blake Hall, a minor country house more than a mile to the north. It's the equivalent, in distance, of renaming Tottenham Court Road station "Buckingham Palace", and just as inconvenient. Blake Hall's platform has long been torn up, and the station building is now a private home [photo]. No trains stop here, nor ever will again, but the drivers give a warning whistle as they approach all the same. You'd think the noise might annoy the current resident, but one suspects that anyone who chooses to buy a former station building knows what they're doing, and the goods wagon on the patio alongside the outdoor swimming pool strongly suggests this to be the case.

Blake Hall marks the just-over-halfway point, as you can confirm if you're watching out of the window for the distance markers planted every 200 metres. Historically all metric distances on the London Underground are measured from a zero point at Ongar, even though it's not part of the network any more. Epping's 9.8km away, Aldgate East is about 40 and Chesham is nearly 90. From 3.0 down to zero, expect a long cutting and then more fields and trees as the rooftops of Ongar approach. By now the guard should have trawled through the carriages asking to see your ticket, which is probably a formality given that it'll have been checked earlier at the only other station along the line. It's a job though, isn't it, and there are far more people enjoying their jobs on a heritage railway such as this than you'd ever find on something taxpayer funded.

I'd only visited Ongar station once before, as part of a schoolboy day out way back in 1980, and I can confirm it's changed a lot since then. I remember a deserted platform and a ticket hall leading out to nowhere much, but this was hugely busier. The signal box at the end of the platform has been restored and brightly painted [photo]. The entire platform has been draped in Union Jack bunting (because the people of Ongar have gone officially Jubilee-bonkers) [photo]. Several old engines and bits of carriage lie decaying along the trackside waiting for restoration. The station buildings have been given a major spruce up, including some gloriously non-artificial hanging baskets [photo]. There's a small museum (well, more a room with some old signs and stuff in, but no complaints from me). There's even a shop, selling souvenirs and sandwiches and very reasonably priced cans of cream soda.

But the biggest difference of all was the number of people standing down the platform waiting to welcome us in. Some waved, some grinned, several got in each other's way as they tried to take photos. They bustled around as the driver topped up with water, and chatted to the fireman about the machinery in the cab. For ten minutes the place was alive as passengers boarded, or waited on the platform to watch the old girl steam out. A retired couple walking past the end of the road with their shopping stopped and gawped through the railings, at what's soon going to be a familiar sight [photo]. It was all rather glorious, and unexpected, and a tribute to the scores of volunteers who've pulled together to make this new reality possible. A whistle, a slow chug, and 4953 Pitchford Hall was soon heading off again across the viaduct and back to North Weald [photo]. I waited just a little longer as the noise died away, and the platform emptied, and Ongar was suddenly as quiet as I remembered it [photo]. At every good heritage railway, a true echo of the past remains.

» Ian Visits visited too... [report] [photos]

EOR

2012-05-28T01:00:00.007+01:00

They closed the line to Ongar in 1994. Many are amazed it lasted that long. A single track shuttle from Epping, with trains at peak hours only, serving a town of only six thousand inhabitants at the far end. Whatever the Central line was doing stretching this far into Essex, it was hard to tell. Funding and footfall were the problems. The shuttle ran entirely outside the capital so London Transport wouldn't subsidise it, so the service dropped to levels that weren't reliable, so Ongarians didn't use it. The town's been without a proper rail service for the last eighteen years. Until this last weekend, that is, when the Epping Ongar Railway celebrated its grand reopening.

www.flickr.com: my Epping Ongar Railway gallery

There are 40 photographs altogether [set] [detail] [slideshow]

They opened the line to Ongar in 1865. It wasn't part of the Central line in those days, but a branch line of the Great Eastern Railway. An extension from Loughton brought the railway into the heart of rural Essex, with trains from Ongar running overground all the way to Liverpool Street [map]. Only when the Central line was tunnelled out to Leytonstone did London Transport take over - that was in the late 1940s - which was also when the Epping to Ongar stretch was curtailed to a separate service. Steam trains (contracted out to British Rail) continued to run until 1957, when the more familiar electric trains started their lonely journeys. And it's to this former golden age of steam that the new heritage railway returns. You'll find no mention of the tube - no roundels, no hints of journeys to West Ruislip - the whole thing's done with proper trains.

The Epping Ongar Railway comprises a fine band of dozens of volunteers, and they've been toiling away for years to get the line open. They've not managed it all yet. Trains run only between North Weald and Ongar, a distance of about five miles, plus a shuttle west to Coopersale and straight back again. There's no link yet at Epping [photo], where the tracks beyond the Central line buffers remain overgrown and unused [photo]. A new platform is planned, maybe, one day, in an ideal world, if funding permits. It'd transform the nature of the attraction if EOR trains were properly linked to the tube network, making it much easier for Londoners to make their way out here. In the meantime they're using heritage buses to transport passengers from Epping station to North Weald, and then pick up the trains from there.

The bus in question is the 339, a former London Country service that used to run parallel to the railway [photo]. Tickets didn't used to cost £17.50, but for that you get unlimited bus and train rides for the day anywhere between here and Ongar, and a proper cardboard ticket just like in the old days. A number of the passengers on my bus were grandparents taking their grandkids for a grand day out, and they were having to explain patiently what a bus conductor did, and why he had to ding the bell when it was time to set off. The RT drew admiring glances as it rolled through Epping's streets. Sunday buses round here are normally infrequent modern cuboids with electronic displays, so the appearance of a 'proper' bus made many an elder resident stare. Mums halted their pushchairs to watch us pass, even kids on bikes did a sudden doubletake. Only the patrons of Costa Coffee in the High Street seemed immune, sipping and chatting on the front terrace entirely unmoved, but that's Essex car culture for you.

It was nearly fifteen minutes drive to North Weald station, which in itself is a reminder of how time-saving the old railway used to be. The new railway has a freshly tarmacked forecourt [photo], carefully fenced off to prevent visitors parking (best go to Ongar if you're coming by car). It was heritage vehicles only up the drive, including an old red and cream Morris van parked up near the bus stop [photo]. The fresh-laid turf alongside looked either much too dry or much too wet, the latter if it was being sodden by a particularly persistent sprinkler. Volunteers were positioned all about the place to meet and greet visitors and direct them towards the entrance [photo]. There were rather a lot of entrances, depending on where you went next. Inside the old station building were ladies selling tea and girls selling flapjacks, plus a very small ticket office window (exchange your electronic ticket for that cardboard rectangle here). Or you could walk directly onto the platform [photo], or veer left to cross the tracks to the opposite platform, whichever. Best not to disturb the alsatians behind the stationmaster's back door - their combined bark is far louder than the whistle of an approaching train. [photo]

The closest platform is for the shuttle service to Coopersale [photo]. This is the lesser of the two services, to be frank, but you need to ride it for your moneysworth. A diesel combo pulls out every half hour hauling a motley collection of old-ish carriages. Some Inter City stock, some compartmentalised first class, nothing like you'd normally travel in these days and all the better for it. It's not going to be a long journey, and you won't be getting out at the other end, this is just a brief run a couple of miles closer to Epping and back. The train runs past the Epping Forest Woodland Burial Ground, where mourners must have thought their loved ones would be interred in peace but now face steam and whistles four times an hour every weekend for the rest of the year. The train dips beneath the M11, the walls under the bridge brightly graffitied, then comes to a halt in the trees just before the Coopersale bridge. There is nothing to see, bar a few rooftops and the hint of someone's messy back garden. A short pause, a pair of whistles, and time to shunt back again.

If the steam train's in on platform 2, the diesel waits patiently before crawling back into platform 1 [photo]. I'm not sure it's usual practice but there was a bloke up the top of the signal on Sunday, either lifting the bar manually or struggling with a black plastic sheet, it was hard to be sure [photo] [photo]. It's a fun job if you can get it, no doubt, for anyone who fancies spending their weekend getting greasy in hi-vis overalls. Job done, the diesel eases in past the station building drawing to a halt by the footbridge [photo]. And look, I'm sorry I've written all this and still not got round to describing the main event, which is the long ride out to Ongar. But tomorrow, honest, and in the meantime you might like to spoil the surprise by ploughing through all my photos if you haven't already.

More photos from: Roy, Steve, Roger, Tony, Graham

Trent Park

2012-05-27T07:00:00.005+01:00

London has more stately-type homes than you might think. Some are still very stately. Some have been thrown open to the public. And some now perform a completely different function. Such is the case at Trent Park, a mansion in deepest Enfield parkland just to the north of Cockfosters. It started out as a hunting lodge, grew into a grand house and eventually mutated into a teacher training college. Today it's part of Middlesex University, the campus where all the arty drama students hang out. But at the end of July they're all moving out, as the university "rationalises its property portfolio", so this summer's the grand finale. In celebration Trent Park is throwing open its doors for a series of Open House weekends, some of which you've missed, and one of which is this weekend.

It's a bit of a trek to reach, as university campuses go. Cockfosters and Oakwood stations are both closest, if close is the word, although the university runs a minibus from the latter to rest students' legs. I walked from the former, up a long avenue of lime trees, through the grounds of the local country park. The squealing I could hear in the woods turned out to be safety-harnessed youth swinging from a Go-Ape zipwire, while their parents chilled out at the cafe up the drive. The view to the north is gorgeous, a rolling haymeadow speckled with buttercups dipping down to an unseen stream with verdant slopes beyond. In heatwave conditions the grounds are ideal for a stroll or a slouch, and it's easy to see why the rich and famous might have wanted a close-to-London bolthole here.

The area hereabouts, and for miles beyond, used to be part of an enormous woodland called Enfield Chase. George III partitioned it off and gave this chunk to his royal physician as quite an ostentatious way of saying thanks. The house started off small, then subsequent owners added extra wings and ornamental gardens, often bankrupting themselves in the process. The penultimate owner was Sir Philip Sassoon, MP and socialite, who became immensely rich on the death of his father in 1912. He cheated hugely by rescuing doors and windows from the demolition of a grand house in Piccadilly, and using them to reface the exterior of Trent Park classical style. A visit to Sir Philip's estate was always a glittering affair. You'd have enjoyed sumptuous cuisine. You might have bumped into George Bernard Shaw or Charlie Chaplin on the terrace. There were penguins in the ornamental lake. Even the deer had gilded antlers so they looked good from a distance.

We heard all about such fripperies on the Open House tour of the house. Once round the ground floor and then, if you waited really (really) patiently, down into the cellars too. One of the students took us round, all genned up and providing a most professional presentation. He pointed out the original front of the house, now the rear wall at the front of reception. He pointed out the bedrooms where Edward and Mrs Simpson stayed, separately allegedly, in the years when their relationship was a clandestine affair. He pointed out the obelisk on the hill opposite, seemingly ancient but imported specially in 1934 for the honeymoon of the Duke and Duchess of Kent (it lined up perfectly with their bedroom). And he pointed out the room in the basement where German-speaking spies listened in on conversations in the rooms above when this became a prison camp for captured WW2 officers. It's had a quite a history, this place.

The ambience was deftly augmented by the subtle appearance of further drama students in period costume, representing former inhabitants, wafting around between the rooms. One in a wig, then three ladies engaged in a deportment class - a very nice touch. But it was a little bit strange being taken on a tour of a mansion that's a university because all the rooms now have very different functions. The main saloon has a clunky overhead projector attached to one wall. A stack of municipal plastic chairs are stacked up next to a priceless fireplace. There are music stands lurking in the front porch. A long-abandoned stationery shop lurks in a messy alcove in the cellar. A nasty 1970s annexe has been tacked onto one wing. But much of Sassoon's sense of showmanship survives.

After today two more Open House weekends are scheduled. One's the 23rd and 24th of June, and the last is the opening weekend of the Olympics, if you're looking for somewhere entirely non-sporting to escape to. And then the students move on and the staff move out, which must be gutting, given the alternative accommodation is a purpose-built campus in Hendon. It has no rolling haymeadows, no Japanese Water Garden, no outdoor pool and no room once painted by Winston Churchill. Instead the entire fifteen thousand square metre estate is up for sale, which'll make the university a tidy profit, such is austerity funding. There are no clues yet as to who'll buy the place up. Enfield council's hoping for a major educational or institutional use, but my money's on a very very posh hotel. The place was used for entertaining before it was a college, and could easily slip back into luxury spa experience mode. So if you want to see historic Trent Park, get down sharpish, else you can always wait three years and come back for cocktails.

Twelvetrees

2012-05-26T07:00:00.008+01:00

I thought I'd go back and look at the Twelvetrees gasometers closer up. You can't get right up close from Three Mills, you have to start on the Blackwall Tunnel Approach Road. Follow Twelvetrees Crescent over the river and past the barrier into the business park (it says private no entry, but stuff that, you're not a car). There on the left, past a pipe-packed British Gas facility, you can't miss them. Seven in total, tightly bunched, doing not much except standing around looking gorgeous.

They don't make energy-storage infrastructure like this any more [photo]. Tall and imposing, with metalwork manufactured far more intricately than necessary because that was the Victorian way. They were erected between 1872 and 1878 on behalf of the Gas Light and Coke Company, London's 19th century equivalent of British Gas. The surrounds are all made of cast iron, while the central telescoping drums are all made of steel. Viewed up close you can see the connecting bands are decorated - a different repeating pattern on each storey [photo]. If you want to stand alongside and sound knowledgeable, you should point out that the lower part of each column is Doric, while the upper part is simplified Ionic. They're a set of gasholders with genuine classical influences - Boris would be so very proud.

Gasholders aren't the modern way, and now only those that have been listed (like these seven) are likely to survive. There are plans afoot to add a visitor attraction here, to make the gasholders some sort of sports facility destination, but these appear to have stalled on the drawing board about two years back. Certainly there's no current sign of access being granted, artificial sports pitches being laid or well-meaning ladies with clipboards handing round questionnaires about sustainability. And hurrah for that. Standing here in the evening sunlight, admiring the maze of columns and ladders, it's hard not to be impressed with this lot just the way they are.

A list of London's gasholders: Battersea, Beckton, Bromley, Bromley-by-Bow, Cambridge Heath, Edmonton, Fulham, Kenni ngton, Kensal Green, Kings Cross, Kingston, Ladbroke Grove, Lower Sydenham, Mitcham, Motspur Park, New Barnet, New Southgate, North Greenwich, North Kensington, Romford, Rotherhithe, Southall, Tottenham, Wood Green. help me out with this!

Immediately across the road from the Twelvetrees gasholders, hidden from view by a shield of trees, lies a secret garden. I say secret, even though it's shown on maps and everything, because I've somehow never known it existed despite living less than a mile away. The path's not signposted or anything, neither is it obvious from the 323 bus stop that anything this intriguing might lurk within a clearing in the trees.

It's a war memorial, a war memorial in three parts. On the left is a domed pergola, clearly intended for trailing plants, but any such foliage is long gone. In the centre is a large plaque, rather bolder than those on either side, etched with the names of a hundred or so fallen men. And on the right, blimey, it's a memorial gas lamp. An ornate octagonal iron casing sits on a tall white column, topped off with spikes and crown-like flourishes. And within the glass, 24 hours a day, a gas ring burns. There must be a dozen or so vents, and if you watch carefully you can see the gas gently flickering as it burns in permanent memory.

Across the grass, unseen by any casual passer-by, is a statue of a kindly-looking gowned man. You'd think might be nationally important, but he turns out "only" to be Sir Corbet Woodall, Governor of the Gas Light and Coke Company during the Great War. Industrialists merited their own statuary back then, not that anybody seems to care today. Indeed the building down by the road used to be the London Gas Museum - yes there really was such a thing - but that was closed over ten years ago and the exhibits dispersed elsewhere. The surrounding area may now have become a bland business park full of cavernous warehouses, but at least the company's gasholders still stand as a fitting reminder of the capital's industrial past.

Abbey Creek

2012-05-25T01:00:00.014+01:00

Not every path near the Olympic Park area is being closed off. In an unexpected reversal of fortune, one path that's been closed off for the last five years has recently been reopened. That's the footpath along the edge of Abbey Creek, a minor backwater between the Greenway and Three Mills. It's less than half a mile long, but by golly it's packed with interest. If you're in the area this summer, and they haven't closed it off again, this might make an interesting ten minute diversion.

WALK EAST LONDON
Greenway to Three Mills (600m) [map]

Look for the snail. That graffitied metal spiral nestling in the undergrowth off the Greenway is actually a chunk of redundant pumping machinery from Abbey Mills nextdoor [photo]. This is where the path turns off, two paths in fact, one high and one low. Ignore the upper past the perimeter of the Pumping Station and fork left down to an unlikely seating area. I say unlikely because there's hardly a glorious view. Sit on the benches and you can look out over a concrete office block, or if the tide's out a tyre-strewn expanse of mud. On a good day there might be birds that aren't seagulls flapping in the reeds, on a bad day, well, that could be very bad indeed. A row of fourteen outfall pipes emerge immediately beneath your feet, used in emergencies to disgorge raw sewage into the river system of the Lower Lea valley [photo]. In an average year 16 million tonnes of the stuff escape here, which is why Thames Water are currently digging London's deepest ever tunnel to divert the discharge to Beckton. More of this later.

It's not been possible to walk any further since 2007. A makeshift fence around the first bend has blocked the way, and I've lost count of the number of times I've wandered down just in case it had been removed. Finally, and without fanfare, it has, reopening the favourite footpath beyond. It's a narrow meandering track, nothing wheelchair accessible, and all the more characterful for it. The foreshore of Abbey Creek is a mass of marshy green, all verdant low-level leaves, leading down to a distant muddy channel [photo]. As the path swings round the channel deepens, now a concrete chasm filled by the tide twice daily. Again, try not to imagine it full of sewage, and concentrate instead on the railway line beyond. The District line runs along the southern edge of the creek, so maybe you've looked back the other way between West Ham and Bromley-by-Bow and wondered what that overgrown wilderness was. Now visitable. [photo]

But suddenly the way is blocked, the path overgrown. There's been subsidence, crumbling or something, which is technically the reason this route's been sealed off these last five years. But rejoice because a detour's been driven through the hedge into the neighbouring field, and this is a very special field indeed. It might look like a building site, and most of it now is, but a dozen years ago this was the site of the very first Big Brother house. Craig, Nasty Nick and Brian, they all lived in a makeshift Channel 4 prefab on the site, with cameras and excitable Davinas all around. A fence blocks off the majority of the space, behind which are diggers and machinery and obscuring piles of earth [photo]. The eviction walkway used to run along here, not quite the part accessible today, but still closer to the action than by rights ought to be the case. Live broadcasting was often interrupted, back in 2000 and 2001, by loudmouth viewers yelling secrets from the public right of way along the water's edge. It's one of the reasons the show moved to Borehamwood, this inescapable lack of East End privacy. But that path's subsidence means public access now encroaches for a hundred metres or so into a patch of overgrown wasteland where television history was made. No plaque is evident, nor ever will be.

Emerging from the trees, the path ends beside the Prescott Channel. There are so many bits of waterway around here, all part of the artificial Bow Back Rivers, and this one hides a secret. When the Euston Arch was demolished in the 1960s, chunks of broken stone were chucked into the water here. About 30 have since been recovered, courtesy of pre-Olympic dredging, but not sufficient to recreate the monument should anyone ever have the urge. Rather more money has been spent building Three Mills Lock, a ship-sized affair through which virtually nothing ever passes [photo]. British Waterways pledged it'd be used for delivering construction materials to the Olympic Park, but completed it too late, so one refuse barge a week is now more the tally. This would be a scandalous white elephant were it not for the huge increase in real estate values the lock delivers upstream, cancelling out tidal flow and removing large areas of E20 from the threat of flooding. Meanwhile across the water, across the railway, stand the Bromley-by-Bow gasholders [photo]. There are seven of these Victorian beauties, each a ring of cast iron classical columns, and Grade II listed to ensure that this heritage cluster survives. [photo]

There used to be a low footbridge here, nothing special, that is until Davina McCall arrived. This was the bridge early Big Brother evictees crossed, a staple of Friday night TV, where the media waited with cameras poised to grab a flashlit snap of disappointment. You'd know it if you saw it... but now you'll never get the chance. The footbridge was removed to provide headroom for lock-bound traffic, and has now been replaced by a much taller footbridge in approximately the same position [photo]. It's utterly charmless, with cheap-feeling bouncy staircases, but it does provide a much better vantage point from which to gawp down on the surrounding area. Look at that, the Big Brother field is now almost entirely wiped away, razed and ready for the construction of the Lee Tunnel [photo]. If the even more expensive Tideway Tunnel is ever built (beneath the Thames from Acton), that'll most likely end right here in Marjorie the chicken's henhouse.

On the far bank, that's Three Mills Studios. As well as BB's studio interviews, many's the TV show or movie that's been filmed within its security perimeter. They sometimes store props round the back, which can be seen fairly clearly from up on the bridge. On my most recent trip I was intrigued to see a headstone-style chunk of fibreglass set in the middle of a grassy platform supported by scaffolding. The inscription remained a mystery until a judicious zoom revealed unexpected wording: "This stone was placed here to mark the source of the River Thames". But that's nearly 200 miles away! It seems someone's built a perfect replica of a famous monument from a Gloucestershire field, in portable form, complete with rocky space in front (from which a water feature might gush) [close-up]. Completely coincidentally, I'm sure, hundreds of LOCOG staff are busy preparing for the Olympic Opening Ceremony at Three Mills at the moment. I wonder where this very British prop might pop up next.

You can't turn left to walk the next bit, around the waterside edge of Three Mills Studios. That's also been sealed off for five years, quoting instability as the reason, and nobody seems to have any impetus whatsoever to open the route back up. But you can turn right past the backlot, past the lock gates, up to Three Mills Green. And that's the end of this "couldn't do it since 2007, can do it now" walk. Ten minutes tops, but so much of interest packed in along the way. I've missed it.

Legible Bow

2012-05-24T07:00:00.005+01:00

We're getting new signs along Bow Road. Not for road traffic, not even for cyclists, but for us pedestrians up on the pavement.

This is the latest rollout of the Legible London project, first seen only in the centre of town, but now increasingly evident in the outer suburbs. Bow Road's been specially targeted, apparently, because of you know what.

With the world watching London in the summer of 2012, we're working with Tower Hamlets to introduce our Legible London maps and signs around Bow Road. It'll help visitors walking to the Olympic Park during the Olympic and Paralympic Games.

Which is interesting, because none of the recommended travel routes for getting to the Games involve using Bow Road. None of the stations hereabouts are designated venue stations, and you can't get to the Olympic Park without crossing the human-crushing Bow Roundabout. You might walk this way if you were local, you might walk this way if you were lost, you might walk this way if the rest of the transport network had shut down, but probably not otherwise. Whatever, whichever, the signs are a great thing to have.

Even without the Games, this part of East London is busy. It's home to a major hospital, a university, two Tube stations, a DLR station and two large parks. So Legible London will improve pedestrian signing both for now and for the future.

There is no major hospital on Bow Road. There used to be, but it's been closed for seven years and is about to be turned into flats. There are major hospitals much further down the A11, but they're not on Bow Road. Neither is there a university, technically there's only one tube station, and even the large parks are some walk away. Presumably someone's chosen to use the phrase "around Bow Road" in a vague arbitrary woolly neighbourhood sort of way. You might not want to put such a person in charge of wayfinding and mapmaking.

It coincides with the Barclays Cycle Hire scheme moving into the area, and this will make Legible London even more useful across the borough. We plan to have these Legible London maps and signs in place by Christmas 2011.

The tall enamel maps appeared couple of months ago, but the sign outside Thames Magistrates Court only went up on Monday. Merry Christmas everybody. Never mind if it's a bit late, Bow Road's very pleased to be becoming more accessible. And if this investment stops yet another lost soul asking me how to walk between the tube station and the DLR, it'll be job well done.

Fairhaven Water Gardens

2012-05-24T01:00:00.010+01:00

Broadland Day Out: Fairhaven Water Gardens
It may happen, one day, that you find yourself beyond Norwich in the watery bit of East Anglia in need of somewhere to visit. It may happen that you fancy somewhere gentle, with greenery and floral bits, and the possibility of a boat ride later. In which (very specific) case, I can wholeheartedly recommend a trip to the Fairhaven Water Gardens - a historic aristocratic playground now thrown open to the public. Access is up a lane beyond South Walsham village, then you park up in a field and walk down to the gift shop. Just over a fiver gets you inside, past the plant stall, with all areas fully wheelchair accessible. They stick a board out the front to let you know what's in flower. Rhododendrons and azaleas are big at the moment, but especially special are the candelabra primula. These damp-loving plants are lovely - concentric rosettes of blooms on long stalks in a variety of shades of pink. Here they're to be found clustered along the edge of various artificial waterways, seemingly very special at first, then eventually so commonplace as to make sightings almost blasé. The Gardens, and especially the primula, attract Norfolk's photographers in number, which sometimes leads to polite queueing at favoured sunlit spots.

Most twisting walks lead to the shores of South Walsham Inner Broad, where a regular tourist boat service chugs off from a pier beside a thatched boathouse [semi-pretty photo]. Most trips are brief, out to the next broad and back, but twice a day Captain John steers the launch much further up the Fleet Dyke as far as the River Bure. Past yachts and cruisers, past lads beering it up, past retired couples sailing into the wind. Past swans and herons, past gaggles of geese, past grebes and whatever baby grebes are called (other than aww, cute). To St Benet's Abbey, formerly one of the most important religious sites in East Anglia, now razed and ruined (apart from a scaffolded gatehouse). The land is reeded and marshy, far from any road, yet still abuzz with relentless river traffic [pretty photo]. As getting away from it all goes, you can't beat a broad.

Olympic scraps

2012-05-23T00:01:00.015+01:00

Olympic update
Grab some scraps

If you fancy proper Olympic tickets, even if you've never ever applied for any before, and you're at your keyboard at 11am this morning, what's available? These are the leftovers after people with no tickets nipped in last week, so don't expect anything amazing. But plenty of expensive tickets remain, plus a few bargains if you know where to look. An overview has been published dividing the sports into good, low and no availability, but this needs to be read in conjunction with the press release to make full sense of the data.

Ordered by availability
» Sports with absolutely no tickets at all, so don't bother looking: Athletics, Canoe Slalom, Cycling (Track & BMX), Equestrian, Gymnastics (Rhythmic), Modern Pentathlon, Swimming, Tennis, Triathlon, Opening & Closing Ceremonies
» Sports with fewer than 1000 tickets (all at £40+): Gymnastics (Trampoline), ~~Shooting~~
» Sports with a fair number of expensive seats (£45+), but no cheap ones: ~~Cycling (Mountain Bike)~~, Gymnastics (Artistic), Rowing, Sailing, Water Polo
» Sports with some cheap seats (but mostly expensive ones): Judo, Wrestling
» Sports with lots of tickets (but mostly expensive ones): Archery, Badminton, Basketball, Beach Volleyball, Canoe Sprint, Diving, Handball, Hockey
» Sports with lots of tickets, including cheap ones: Boxing, Fencing, Football, Table Tennis, Taekwondo, Volleyball, Weightlifting
» Special offer £10 tickets: ~~Olympic Park Pass~~

Rule 1: You can purchase up to 4 tickets per session.
Rule 2: You can purchase up to 4 sessions.
Rule 3: ...unless you fancy football tickets, in which case you can buy at least 20 tickets, maybe 30, because they're increasingly desperate to shift these.

Six top tips for desirable leftovers
1) Basketball, Diving, Handball, Hockey: You'll have to be quick to get them, but these are the last £20 tickets for an event in the Olympic Park.
2) Archery: They're not playing cricket at Lords, they're firing arrows. That'd be different. A few £20 tickets remain.
3) Boxing, Fencing, Judo, Table Tennis, Taekwondo, Weightlifting, Wrestling: OK, so these are at ExCel, probably the least exciting of all London's Olympic venues. But £20 lets you watch some sports you'd probably never see otherwise.
4) Volleyball: Earl's Court's being knocked down after this, probably. Last chance to see.
5) Olympic Day Pass: There aren't many of these. They're only available for Monday 30 July to Thursday 2nd August, which is before the Athletics starts. You don't get to watch any events. But you do get five hours to wander around inside the Park, which is huge, and you'll remember that for the rest of your life. Ten quid gets you in. If you hurry.
6) Paralympics Games: World class athletics, dead cheap tickets, massive availability... just click onto the other tab, and you can snap up almost whatever you want.

Rule 4: You can log in before 11am to find out which sessions have tickets available...
Rule 5: ... but you can't find out which sessions have cheap tickets available until 11am.
Rule 6: Be patient. You may get stuck in Ticketmaster's churning queue for up to 30 minutes.
Rule 7: The longer you wait, the less will be left.

Sheer unexpected hopelessness: "The London 2012 ticketing website will not be available from 11pm on 23rd May until 9am on 24th May. This is due to planned and scheduled update work taking place." [announcement at 9pm on 23rd May]

Saturday night at the theatre

2012-05-22T07:00:00.005+01:00

Saturday Night at the Theatre
Date: April 2012
Venue: London fringe
Author: Mike Leigh
Play: A modern classic

We arrive early. The theatre has its own restaurant attached, tonight with a specially themed menu, so a pre-performance dinner has been booked. Prawn cocktail, obviously, then chicken Kiev, what else, and finally chocolate fondue. It's the only way to kick off a seminal Seventies evening, and the cuisine is as gloriously mainstream as you'd hope. The crowd assembles in the bar, its walls lined with posters from past glories hereabouts. There's even one couple we know, and haven't seen in years, so we say hello while we wait to file in.

The theatre is compact, little more than a few raked benches squished in front of a low stage. The set is perfectly dressed - a symphony in browns and oranges, from the tacky ornaments on the rear bookcase to the disturbingly floral wallpaper. Even the rippled glasses lined up on the coffee table, almost certainly free gifts from the local petrol station, are just like my living room used to have. We shuffle along a rear bench, squeezed in between fifty-somethings and trendy youths who couldn't possibly remember this from first time round. And when Donna Summer is finally switched on, we're off.

That woman who used to be that bloke's wife in that soap opera hogs the stage. She wafts around the set in a lime green dress, daring the audience to accept her in place of the iconic actress who made the role famous. It takes a while, but with force of personality (and a knowing smirk) she soon succeeds. That woman from that never-ending BBC3 sitcom, she's the less confident neighbour, you know the one. She plays her part with goofy aplomb and straight-faced understatement, earning many a laugh from the audience. And the lady who's the posh neighbour, once I've wiped her many TV drama performances from my mind, brings the awkwardness of her character completely to life. Elsewhere on the sofas a considerable amount of facial hair is on show, but that seems somehow normal because male grooming has come full circle since 1977.

We all of us know all of the words. When the "cheesy pineapple one" appears, we're mouthing along. When the first "little top-up" is offered, we know several more are on their way. And when Demis Roussos lights up the record player, we grin in anticipation of what's coming next. The tray of cheesy pineapple ones proves irresistible to one member of the audience who slips one off the coffee table on his way out at the interval. We spend twenty minutes or so in the bar downing wines and cocktails far superior to anything the suburban partygoers might be sipping on stage. Then, before the second half begins, a stage hand nips out and politely harangues the audience. "Please don't eat the props. You know who you are."

The remainder of the play is a relentless joy. The characters carp and snipe to the expected crescendo, firing off each line with increasing frustration and bitterness. And even though we all know how it's going to end, our familiarity never gets in the way of enjoyment. The final round of applause is heartfelt, even prolonged, and nobody steals any olives on the way out. It comes as no surprise to hear, a few days later, that the play is heading off to the West End for a longer run. Beverley would be so very proud.

Saturday Night at the Theatre
Date: May 2012
Venue: Norfolk village hall
Author: Alan Ayckbourn
Play: A relative unknown

We arrive early. A few of the cast are wandering around in the car park, taking the air before the curtain goes up. There are no soap stars here, and nobody hassling for autographs. The audience is slow to arrive, filling up seats at the front of the hall and leaving rather a lot free at the rear. Tickets have been available at the village shop for weeks, but Saturday night TV appears to have won out. Punters below the age of sixty are rare, below forty almost non-existent. Programmes are free, although donations are requested, and raffle ticket purchase is encouraged. The kitchen doubles up as the bar, serving canned beer for two quid and shandy for one. Grab your glasses, we're about to begin.

A cable strung across the fire exit powers the speakers with some introductory music. The lights go up - new lights, of which the village hall committee are very proud. And then the actors are on, diving into the fast-learned script with comic timing. The play's a strange one, and not from Ayckbourn's inner repertoire. This is good, because the evening will be a proper voyage of discovery for almost the entire audience. Only the prompter in the front row has seen it through before, and they'll only be needed twice when a slight pause threatens to become a hiatus. The scenery's been kept simple, as suits best for a limited run, and it's no surprise (for Ayckbourn) when a bed makes repeated appearances.

I know none of these actors because I'm a stranger here, but to locals these are familiar faces. They all had different roles in the pantomime, remember, and different again in the serious play they did last year. Today they're doctors and technicians and disabled media moguls precisely as the script demands, the parts shared out in line with talent and bodies of best fit. Some have minor roles, cameos even, requiring a quick change between scenes to walk on again as somebody new. Others have the major parts, a considerably more taxing requirement, yet memorised and delivered as well as might ever be hoped for.

During the interval, the audience takes the opportunity to socialise. Unlike the West End where everyone's a stranger, here everyone knows the councillor, the newsletter editor and the lady from down the lane. Chatter is curtailed so that the raffle can be drawn. It wouldn't be a Norfolk community event without a raffle - the most acceptable means hereabouts for recycling unwanted gifts to a worthy cause. Everyone perused the prizes on the table on their way in, and is now hoping that their coloured strip of tickets might win them their favoured choice. The basket of fruit goes first, then the bottle of whisky, and even the gift pack of foot scrub goes earlier than might have been expected. Only when the last ticket has been drawn, and the final bottle claimed, can the second half continue.

The scenes run faster now, with quicker changes, tightly honed. The pace hots up to a frenetic conclusion, yet still providing food for thought rather than belly laughs. And then it's all over, with only a single brief curtain call for the audience to show its genuine appreciation. There'll be no West End run, but why travel that far when there's a talented troupe on your doorstep?

London 2012 ticket update

2012-05-21T07:00:00.003+01:00

Olympic update
Last chance tickets?

If you didn't get tickets to the men's 100m final and are angry about it, you probably have very little understanding of the laws of probability. But if you didn't get any tickets to the Games at all, or did but fancy some more, then this is the week to take action. More than a million tickets will be available, most for the Paralympics rather than the Olympics, but still providing plenty of opportunity to get inside a venue and lap up the atmosphere. If you're still whingeing next week, either your cash reserves are too low or your expectations are too high.

Paralympic leftovers: Over a million tickets go on sale this morning at 11am. That's not great if you're at work in a non-internet environment but, this being the Paralympics, it's very unlikely that events will sell out really quickly. No specific details of session availability will be made available in advance, so you'll have to dig around on www.tickets.london2012.com to discover precisely what's available and at what price. But expect tickets to start at only £10, in a variety of events, with the greatest availability in Athletics. Yes, Athletics. If you fancy a trip inside the Olympic Park and inside the Olympic Stadium, then Paralympic Athletics is your golden ticket. Other venues in the Park with decent availability include the Aquatic Centre (yes, honest, for Swimming) and the Basketball Arena. Even the Opening and Closing Ceremonies have half-decent availability, although maybe at a price. The Paralympic Closing Ceremony is essentially a dressed-up Coldplay concert, if that's of any interest. At the other end of the availability scale, the Archery and Shooting in Woolwich are almost sold out already. At only £10 a ticket, these might well be events to target at 10:59am this morning before they all disappear. Also at only £10, day passes (with sport) will be available for the Olympic Park or for ExCel, which may be well worth considering. The full availability summary is here. Don't be sniffy, grab yourself a bargain.

Olympic leftovers: These go on sale this Wednesday at 11am. They're the same tickets that were available last week to ticketless applicants, or at least all of those that haven't yet sold out. Expect most of the leftovers to be in the expensive price brackets (for example no Athletics tickets below £400), or to be in Football (which not enough people genuinely care about). Again it's first come first served, and open to anyone, so best get in fast.

Fresh Olympic tickets: The following go on sale next Tuesday 29th May at 11am.
a) Cycling Road Race: £15 or £10 gets you into special enclosures either at Box Hill or at Hampton Court. Or it's free (and ticketless) everywhere else between here and The Mall.
b) Tennis: £10 gets you onto Henman Hill to watch Olympic matches on a big screen.
c) Orbit: If you have a ticket to the Olympic Park, and only if, you can buy an ticket up the big red observation tower for £15. Tickets will probably be for a specific time on your particular day, but that's not yet confirmed. At least there'll be something decent to see from the observation deck this summer, which may not be the case when the tower reopens 18 months later.
d) Olympic Park Pass: This is ideal if you only want to get inside the Olympic Park for the atmosphere, not the sport. Alas, expect ridiculously few of these to go on sale, no more than a few thousand a day.

And then soon, sometime between late May and July, everyone's tickets will start to arrive. They're being delivered by Royal Mail, and they'll need to be signed for. And that may cause a few problems...

» Your tickets are being sent to whatever address LOCOG had in their system on February 6th. If you've moved house since, bad luck. Royal Mail will still attempt delivery to your old address, and only your old address, unless you've previously set up a redirection service.
» Anyone at the designated address can sign for your package. That's probably good news... unless you've moved house since, in which case it's very bad news.
» Royal Mail will send email notification on the day your tickets are due to be delivered. But there'll be no earlier warning, so you won't be able to rearrange your schedule to be at home that day.
» If you're not at home when the tickets are delivered, they go back to your local sorting office. You can arrange redelivery, but only to the same address. After 18 days at the depot your tickets go back to LOCOG. Once they've been returned, you can only pick them up at a London 2012 ticket office. These will be open at venues at Games time, including on the day of your event.
» Only when your tickets arrive do you finally discover which seats you've been allocated. A list of seating plans is available here. If you opted for the cheapest tickets, don't be surprised to find yourself in the cheapest most far-flung seats.

It has to be said, the entire London 2012 ticketing system has been opaque, perverse and seemingly made-up by the organisers as they went along. Deadlines have slipped by months, understandings have entirely altered, and the actual sizes of ticket allocations have been suspiciously concealed. The whole enterprise has done nothing to engender feelings of fairness, that's for sure. But if you still fancy taking part, this week's your best chance to mop up what's left.

Plaistow Airport

2012-05-20T01:00:00.005+01:00

If London is to survive into the 21st century as a global business hub, then greater airport capacity is undoubtedly required. But where? A third runway at Heathrow would be hugely controversial, requiring the demolition of a Middlesex village and an increased aircraft noise across West London. The government has confirmed that they would never give consent. A new airport in the Thames Estuary would be an environmental catastrophe, requiring the desecration of important natural resources. The people of Kent would never tolerate such an intrusion. But there is another way, a simpler solution, the perfect compromise. We must build Plaistow International Airport. You know it makes sense.

10 reasons why London must build Plaistow Airport

1) A new Plaistow Airport would recognise the increasing importance of East London, and would provide ease of international access to Canary Wharf, the Royal Docks and the post-Olympic Park.
2) The airport could be the size of Heathrow without causing any significant environmental damage beyond the boundaries of the London borough of Newham.
3) It's only Plaistow. Nobody will care if we demolish it.
4) West London has suffered enough from aircraft noise. It's only fair that the eastern side of the capital now takes its fair share of relentless jet droning. Let's bring peace to Brentford, even if that means double-glazed misery for Bow.
5) The proposed airport has excellent transport links, with both the DLR and the Jubilee line running along the perimeter of the site. Drivers would have easy access to the new airport via the A13. The District line already runs right through the heart of the site, with two existing stations that could be redeveloped underground as Plaistow Airport Central and Plaistow Terminal 2.
6) Plaistow Airport would be 15 miles closer than Heathrow to our main European trading partners, saving millions of hours of excess flying time each year.
7) The only economic asset of any importance in the designated demolition zone is West Ham United football club, and they'll be moving to the Olympic Stadium soon anyway.
8) There are already too many benefit scroungers living in the Plaistow/East Ham area. As part of the government's plan to remove such parasites, tens of thousands could be forcibly relocated to purpose built estates in the Home Counties, for example on the Isle of Grain.
9) Heathrow and Plaistow are very similar words, which might help to cement a new airport brand identity in the minds of potential foreign travellers. BAA must grasp the opportunity to upgrade the area's pronunciation from the frankly common "Plah-stow" to the much more desirable "Play-stow".
10) It would be ghastly if London's powerbrokers weren't able to fly abroad fifteen times a year for business meetings and skiing holidays. Let's sacrifice Plaistow now, for the benefit of the Londoners who truly matter.

Re-reddit

2012-05-19T07:00:00.010+01:00

I got Reddited again yesterday. Which was uncomfortable.

Some people who never read the site but know what good website design is, discussed what good website design is and wondered why I didn't realise that.

» Web developer here. I think his points about making his site work best for big screens is probably a bit short-sighted, although without seeing his web stats maybe he's right. More and more websites are being built "mobile first" now, meaning they should look good by default on mobiles and small-screen devices, and "progressively enhance" to match the user's browsing context. You don't have to be a web genius to do this kind of stuff, there are a billion Wordpress themes that can do this. But if you're sweating over your content to make it engaging and well-written, why would you treat it with contempt and throw it onto a difficult to read and fairly ugly template, then respond to criticism by effectively saying "well, it works on my screen"? Just my $0.02 [guitarromantic]

» Agreed. These principles are unified under the handy term responsive design. [Deku-shrub]

» "I'm continuing to make the fatal assumption that you're all viewing my blog the same way I am, and it still looks fine to me. Only when I buy myself a smartphone and start to view my blog through different eyes might things begin to change. Until then, sorry, the terrible-looking site lingers on."
» This is a pretty ignorant attitude to take, especially given the valuable free insight of people's impressions of his site. As guitarromantic pointed out, there are tons of wordpress templates and the like which are so easy to configure and at the same time able to keep the depth of content. If he's only doing the site for his own benefit, why bother publishing it online at all. [lookatmeme]

My occasional irony may have passed lookatmeme by.

» I guess this guy is not aiming his website to bring him any famous nor the capacity to claim he got crazy amount of readers. Hence his regular posts turning down marketing offers for free stuff. He probably just discovered that he was reddited and gave his 2 cents about the comments he read. My personal opinion is it seems to be a rather popular blog among londonish network websites and people obviously follow his posts for their interest to the content itself. My advice : Read it through a RSS reader, you'll get rid of the interface stuff and would be able to focus on content :) [whyoji]

» I read his blog everyday, it has great content (most of the time) but if you look through it you can see that he clearly likes writing and is not trying to build an audience or make money. [somabc]

» I've been reading DG for many years now, and for the most part have been doing so through something like Google Reader. It makes it infinitely more legible, and I have to admit that I've not even thought about the design of the site in a long long time. Equally, I can think of loads of my feeds where I have no idea what the current site design actually looks like. Nice, clean Google Reader interface for me, thanks. [gooneruk]

» I have to say, my initial post mostly directed at the specific post that was linked which was so badly formatted I gave up trying to read it. The rest of your site isn't as bad as I suggested it is. [eastlondonmandem]

» I look forward to tomorrow's post where he addresses all the concerns we make today. [somabc]

» Oh god it's never-ending! [Xenc]

» It's funny because you're blaming mobile
browsers, yet your site is hard to read on my
22" 1080p screen. All that's down to poor
typography, and general design wise, it's very
1990's. Could be much worse, but it's still
not very readable. There are plenty of
typography guidelines out there, particularly
with regards to line length. [foetuseofexcellence]

Nice to know, thanks.

Olympic lockdown

2012-05-18T08:00:00.009+01:00

Olympic update
Lockdown approaches

As July gets closer, public access around the Olympic Park is being inexorably closed off [map]. Additional fences are going up, gates are clanging shut, and final cups of coffee are being served. Yes, it's the turn of the Greenway past the Olympic Stadium to be sealed off, with lockdown commencing at 8am tomorrow morning [photo]. If you want to get up close to the stadium you've only got today, after which any view will have to be from rather further away.

Part of me is very pleasantly surprised that they kept the Greenway open for so long. It runs right through the heart of the Olympic Park, with long-term building sites on either side, and yet some kind soul decided that the public would be permitted to retain access. Initially there were security guards with dogs posted here, then they threw up high metal fences and left electronic sentinels to do their job. At first the public barely came, just those of us who live round here and people cycling through. It took a cafe and observation deck in a stack of lime green containers to draw the wider population in [photo]. But by the end, on a typical weekend afternoon, you could barely move for inquisitive souls and tour parties corralled by Blue Badge Guides. A crowd by the map board, several families slurping drinks, even the occasional purchase at the London 2012 shop. Not any more.

The View Tube served its last bacon sandwich yesterday afternoon. They waved the final customer out onto the decking, locked the doors and then filed off to the kitchen for a last round of washing up. Somebody inside popped up to the observation deck for a zoom lens photo, one final opportunity to record the changes taking place a few hundred metres across the ring road [photo]. A small group of foreign tourists stood outside by the railings and pointed across at the Olympic panorama, while a mother sat patiently as her two small children let off steam. The View Tube's flowers were looking nice, especially those planted in the leftover canoe, although several beds look set to burst into bloom only after everyone's gone [photo]. And in the long metal shelter, half-shuttered, the London 2012 shop was closing down. Staff stood counting the leftover keyrings (yes, rather a lot) and packing their stock away into "Made in China" boxes [photo]. Then it was onto the trolley to be pushed carefully down the ramp, and under the railway, and forever off the site.

The mute security guards are still there at the bottom of that ramp. They've shifted position a few times over the years as the main road into the Olympic Park has been rerouted, but remain ever alert in case some Greenway pedestrian might veer off the zebra crossing and sneak into the park. Closing down the path tomorrow means the guards can finally leave their stations and go protect something more important instead. The new perimeter gate is already up and ready, a few feet to the north of the railway, and a favoured spot for rats from what I saw last night.

A short dead-end alleyway will remain beneath the arches, twisting round to Pudding Mill Lane DLR. This remains open until early July, and then suffers the same fate as the View Tube. It's all for the construction of the South Spectator Entrance and associated transport hub, which can now continue without interruption from an annoying public right of way. I'll recommend Pudding Mill's platform to you as the best remaining spot from which to view the Olympic Park, at least for the next eight weeks, but it's not as good as the Greenway panorama, sorry. The final backstage mega-prefabs will be erected unscrutinised, and the last spruce-up of the parklands will be unseen [photo]. You have 24 hours to get in and see what your taxes have paid for, unless of course you're fortunate enough to have tickets for the main event. Whatever, pencil in your next View Tube cappuccino for sometime around Christmas... assuming anyone's still interested in the aftermath of the Games by then.

Future closures
» Saturday 19th May: The Greenway past the Olympic Stadium (reopens in December) (sheesh, a seven month closure, that's bad)
» Tuesday 3rd July: The Lea Navigation Towpath from Hackney Marshes to the Bow Flyover (reopens 10th September)
» Saturday 14th July: Pudding Mill Lane DLR (reopens 13th September)

Photos of the Olympic Stadium from the Greenway, 2007-2012
My full set of 45 photos, taken monthly-ish, is now complete (slideshow)

Reddit?

2012-05-17T07:00:00.007+01:00

I got Reddited yesterday. Which was nice.

Reddit, if you don't know, is a long-standing online community where users add links to an ever-bubbling noticeboard. If they like something they vote it up, and if they don't they vote it down. What with Redditors being just a trifle nerdgeeky, they liked my list of station usage data and voted it up. Hey presto, well over a thousand of them clicked over, which was nice.

And then they went back to their own site and left comments. "I thought Clapham Junction was the busiest train station in the U.K." said one. "It's the busiest because lots of trains go through it, but this list is busiest in terms of passengers using the stations" said another. "Stratford... it's crazy busy. I travel from there every morning. Sometimes I've been on a completely packed train to the point that West Ham and Canning Town folks can't really get on at all," added a third. And then somebody said this.

» What a terrible looking site. [eastlondonmandem]

Oh, I wasn't expecting that. The feedback continued.

» content over form isn't necessarily a bad thing [Scary_]
» Pretty sure it's been the same since 1999. The content is great, but I agree that it could do with a facelift. [Larwood]
» OK - the aesthetics might not be "modern", but is that really a reason to change? The Golden Syrup tin hasn't changed since it was designed and is now considered a classic. [geekchic]

There then followed a wildly tangential geekbitchfight debating the merits (or otherwise) of Javascript and Ajax, because that's what Reddit's like sometimes. But I was left thinking, oh, does my website really look crap?

I'm still using a Blogger template from ten years ago. It used to be a vile shade of green, which I soon updated to silver (or, OK, grey). But other than that it's still pretty much the same layout and design as ten years ago, mildly tweaked, with added bits embedded here and there. It's fairly simple underneath, and I understand how it all fits together, so who cares if it's little more than two ashen strips with text in? I'm betting you're here for what I've written, rather than how it looks, so I place all my effort there.

But, looking afresh, I'm probably doing myself no favours. Those thousand plus people who surfed in yesterday, many for the first time, may well have formed a snap judgement on my site based on one page of ugliness. They won't be back. And yet perhaps leaden grey clunkiness is the least of my problems, maybe it's screen size. It used to be that most people accessed the web via a computer with a big screen, but today the driving impetus is portable miniaturisation. I don't yet have a smartphone, so it struck me that perhaps my blog might look godawful on a mobile, even to the point of illegibility. Ulp. So I unearthed a few emulators online and, ah, oh dear, maybe that's not good at all.

On an iPad, seemingly, no problem. I stuck diamondgeezer.blogspot.com into a iPad simulator and it looks fine, even quite swish, with all the greys and blacks and indigos blending well. But on an iPhone, if these emulators are anything to go by, it's not so hot. My dark grey sidebar's only 180 pixels wide, which is nothing on a normal screen, but on a thin mobile screen it's much too over-dominant. There's not enough space to the left for the main text, so far as I can see, which then becomes much too titchy to easily read. Or maybe I have a scrolling problem. Using this emulator the text comes up full size but runs straight off the edge, back and forth, which you'd need the patience of a saint to coherently read. In the upcoming futureworld of mobile browsing, it seems, my blog is several different types of unreadable. Sorry.

To confirm this sorry state of affairs I tested my blog for mobile-readiness using a couple of validation sites. They weren't best pleased. I'm doing lots of things wrong, apparently, which makes my blog almost as mobile-unfriendly as it gets.

The size of the document's markup exceeds 10 kilobytes. Er, yes. My mark-up's 167.6KB, apparently, so it takes an age to load. Too long, or too data-expensive, for most people to bother.

There are more than 20 embedded external resources. Er, yes. I let readers see up to a fortnight's posts all in one go, which is a lot of photos for one page. No problem on a broadband PC, but a fatal choking error in your pocket.

A "javascript:" link is used. Er, yes. My comments pop-up via Javascript, but mobiles hate pop-ups with a vengeance.

There are nested tables. Er, yes. My entire template is a two-column table, rather than a seamless CSS stylesheet, which is appallingly old-school.

The document does not validate against XHTML Basic 1.1 or MP 1.2. Er, no. And the list of failures goes on, and on, and on.

What I ought to undertake is a complete template redesign. Something swish and modern, something off the shelf, rather than a creaking internet dinosaur that's unfit for purpose. Websites like Londonist and Ian Visits have already upgraded to mobile-friendly templates where you can only view one post at a time, never two, which makes them much easier to load. London Reconnections now has an alternative mobile format which strips away the sidebar and leaves the main content perfectly legible, just like magic. Or perhaps I could retreat to dumbdown geezer, my April Fool from last year, which I deliberately slimmed down to simplistic levels for readability's sake. As another Redditor says...

» It could do with a lot more contrast in the content area, as well as a smaller column size for the main content (we aren't reading on 1024x768 any more!) [r3m0t]

But stuff that. I want to flaunt the depth of my content, not hide it away. I'm a webpage purveyor, optimised for the big screen. I'm a child of 2002, still doing landscape while the world's going portrait. I'm a miserable coding stick-in-the-mud, happy with what I've got until someone proves it's broken. I'm continuing to make the fatal assumption that you're all viewing my blog the same way I am, and it still looks fine to me. Only when I buy myself a smartphone and start to view my blog through different eyes might things begin to change. Until then, sorry, the terrible-looking site lingers on.

Anorak Corner

2012-05-16T06:00:00.000+01:00

Anorak Corner (the ann ual up date)

London's ten busiest tube stations (2011)
1) Waterloo (84.1m) 2) Victoria (82.3m) 3) King's Cross St Pancras (77.11m) 4) Oxford Circus (77.1m) 5) ↑1 London Bridge (65.4m) 6) ↓1 Liverpool Street (63.4m) 7) ↑* Stratford (48.6m) 8) Bank/Monument (47.8m) 9) Canary Wharf (46.6m) 10) ↓3 Paddington (46.5m)

London's ten busiest tube stations that aren't also National Rail stations (2011)
1) Oxford Circus (77.1m) 2) Bank/Monument (47.8m) 3) Canary Wharf (46.6m) 4) Piccadilly Circus (40.6m) 5) Leicester Square (38.8m) 6) Bond Street (36.0m) 7) ↑1 Holborn (32.0m) 8) ↑1 Green Park (31.8m) 9) ↑1 Hammersmith (District & Piccadilly) (28.9m) 10) ↑* Baker Street (27.0m)

London's ten busiest tube stations outside Zone 1 (2011)
1) ↑1 Stratford (48.6m) 2) ↓1 Canary Wharf (46.6m) 3) Hammersmith (District & Piccadilly) (28.9m) 4) Finsbury Park (24.3m) 5) ↑1 Brixton (22.5m) 6) ↓1 Shepherd's Bush (21.6m) 7) Camden Town (21.0m) 8) ↑* Highbury & Islington (16.3m) 9) Ealing Broadway (16.1m) 10) ↓2 North Greenwich (15.7m)

London's ten least busy tube stations (2011)
1) Roding Valley (220000) 2) Chigwell (460000) 3) ↑1 Grange Hill (490000) 4) ↓1 Chesham (620000) 5) Theydon Bois (740000) 6=) Moor Park (820000) 6=) Croxley (820000) 8) ↑1 Chorleywood (910000) 9) ↓1 Fairlop (920000) 10) ↑* North Ealing (940000)

London's ten busiest National Rail stations (2010/11)
1) Waterloo (92m) 2) Victoria (74m) 3) Liverpool Street (56m) 4) London Bridge (52m) 5) Charing Cross (37m) 6) Euston (34m) 7) Paddington (32m) 8) King's Cross (26m) 9) ↑* St Pancras (22m) 10) ↓1 Cannon Street (21m)

London's ten busiest National Rail stations that aren't central London termini (2010/11)
1) East Croydon (20.1m) 2) Clapham Junction (19.7m) 3) ↑2 Stratford (17.5m) 4) ↓1 Vauxhall (16.5m) 5) ↓1 Wimbledon (16.2m) 6) Putney (9.9m) 7) Surbiton (8.3m) 8) ↑* Highbury & Islington (7.63m) 9) Richmond (7.6m) 10) Finsbury Park (7.3m)

London's ten least busy National Rail stations (2010/11)
1) Sudbury & Harrow Road (18500) 2) ↑1 Angel Road (28600) 3) ↓1 South Greenford (31900) 4) ↑1 Sudbury Hill Harrow (47000) 5) ↓1 Birkbeck (47600) 6) ↑2 Morden South (79800) 7) ↑2 Emerson Park (82100) 8) ↓2 Drayton Green (105000) 9) ↑1 Castle Bar Park (125000) 10) ↑* South Ruislip (136000)

The UK's ten busiest National Rail stations that aren't in London (2010/11)
1) ↑1 Glasgow Central (25.0m) 2) ↓1 Birmingham New Street (24.7m) 3) Leeds (24.5m) 4) Manchester Piccadilly (21.3m) 5) Edinburgh Waverley (20.0m) 6) Glasgow Queen Street (19.7m) 7) Liverpool Central (18.0m) 8) ↑1 Brighton (14.5m) 9) ↓1 Reading (14.4m) 10) Gatwick Airport (13.1m)

The UK's ten least busy National Rail stations (2010/11)
1) ↑1 Tees-Side Airport (18) 2) ↑* Dorking West (22) 3) ↓2 Coombe Junction (38) 4) ↑* De nt on (52) 5=) Breich (68) 5=) ↓2 Red dish South (68) 7) ↓3 Barry Links (74) 8) ↑* Sampford Courtenay (76) 9=) ↓4 Sugar Loaf (84) 9=) ↑* Elton & Orston (84)

» Tube passenger data here (total annual entry and exit frequencies)
» Rail passenger data here (total annual entry and exit frequencies)

Water Chariots

2012-05-15T01:00:00.010+01:00

Whatever you do, don't book a ticket to the Olympic Park with Water Chariots.
£95 for a short boat trip isn't sustainable transport, it's daylight robbery.

Water Chariots, you may remember, are the bespoke canal-based travel service for the London 2012 Games. They have exclusive rights to run passengers up the Lea to the Park, either from Limehouse or from Tottenham Hale. They have an exclusive 15 year licence. They were helped by £300,000 of public money, provided as an investment from British Waterways, the London Thames Gateway Development Corporation and the Olympic Delivery Authority. They hoped to have a fleet of 26 barges, but they've only fitted out 15. And they're charging £95 return for a two mile journey through the backside of Tower Hamlets. No, they are not having a laugh.

» from Limehouse to our exclusive entrance at Old Ford Lock: 40 minutes
» from Tottenham Hale to Eton Manor Gate (the Park’s Northern entrance): 70 minutes

Olympic Games: Adult - £95 return | Child (Under 18) - £50 return (Price includes a complimentary glass of champagne or soft drink prior to embarkation)
Paralympic Games: Adult - £50 return | Child (Under 18) - £25 return (Price includes a complimentary soft drink prior to embarkation)

Oddly enough, this is not what was promised last summer when Water Chariots launched. Their website was very light on detail but did eventually admit that Olympic tickets would cost £20 each way, i.e. £40 return. I know this to be true because I blogged about it at the time, and came to the conclusion that £40 return was unnecessarily eye-watering expensive. Now, suddenly, that price has more than doubled, in a transparently money-grabbing "well, we might as well take them for everything we can get" kind of a way.

Water Chariots' chairman Peter Coleman is unapologetic. He's selling the WC experience as a once in a lifetime day out, hence the glass of fizz and maybe a jazz band along the way. "It'll be a Henley-on-Thames toe-tapping type of day," he says, clearly targeting his services at the cash-rich demographic who think Henley's exclusive regatta is a value day out. Many of these people won't have lowered themselves to visit Poplar or Hackney before, and may not realise that East London's canals aren't quite as picturesque as the Berkshire Thames. For example, most of the journey from Limehouse will be along the Limehouse Cut, which isn't a gorgeous scenic experience however you dress it up. There's a very pleasant bit through Three Mills, but you could see that for nothing from the towpath, no exclusive boat is required.

Water Chariots are keen to promote their Olympic offering as a guaranteed jam-free service. There'll be no getting crushed on the Central Line with the plebs, nor (for the target audience) the hassle of hiring a taxi and then getting stuck in a queue at the Bow Flyover. Instead passengers will need to travel to Limehouse or to Tottenham Hale to pick up their slow chugging barge. Corporate parties with cash to burn might choose to arrive at Limehouse by high speed water taxi from Westminster (for only £1810 return), while visitors with helicopters will be pleased to hear that a shuttle link is available to the Tottenham Hale departure pontoon. The rest of us non-VIPs will be forced to travel direct to the Park using our free Olympic travelcards, spending nothing but our time.

Tempted to take a trip? Now calculate how early you'll need to turn up. First of all, Water Chariots warn us "Please note LOCOG recommend you arrive at the Olympic Park 2.5 hours before your session time starts." I don't recognise that recommendation, especially when Water Chariots claim to have an exclusive VIP entrance to the Olympic Park at their disposal, but let's assume that it's true. The half-hourly journey from Limehouse takes 40 minutes, and on top of that Water Chariots suggest you arrive 40 minutes early for your scheduled departure "in order to clear security and enjoy your glass of champagne." All of which means that if your Olympic Park session begins at 10am, Water Chariots would like you to turn up at their pontoon two miles away at ten to six in the morning. They are, quite clearly, talking rubbish.

And don't think that your £95 guarantees you special treatment. For security reasons, you can only travel on the boat specified on your timed ticket, and times of departure cannot be changed after you've booked. All passengers' names must be submitted in advance, and there's a £10 surplus charge should you need to amend one. All tickets are 100% non-refundable in all circumstances. If security warnings from government cause the service to be suspended, for example in the case of terrorist threats, no refunds will be given. Lifejackets will be provided, but only if you request them in advance. And these are open-sided boats, so if it rains then protective drop-down canvases will seriously impair your view. This is a boat service with terms and conditions very much favouring the company's bank account and not yours.

Meanwhile, Water Chariots appear to have completely given up on their previously stated ambition of providing pleasure trips along the River Lea outside the Olympic period. These were supposed to begin last summer, but never materialised, and there's no sign of them appearing before or during the Games either. Instead good money has been spent on a water-bus-stop and jetty at Three Mills that looks like it may never be used. After the Games, so we're told, some of the fleet of 15 will be converted into self-hire vessels, not all of them local, and some may run on London's canals "to popular attractions such as London Zoo", because that's where the tourists are. If a scheduled Olympic Park waterbus ever materialises - and I have my doubts - nothing we've so far seen hints that prices aboard will be either appropriate or affordable.

Water Chariots appear to have aimed themselves unashamedly at a wallet-milking audience of VIPs and corporate clients, exploiting the Games as a one-off opportunity to make money. Their 120 return trips a day should rake in considerable profits, potentially millions of pounds over a four week period. You may well be wishing you'd thought of the idea yourself. But as for any lasting legacy hereabouts, don't hold your breath.

Dangleway update

2012-05-14T07:00:00.006+01:00

You'll be wanting an update, I'm sure, on latest progress towards the construction of the ArabFly Dangleway. In case you've forgotten, that's the cross-river cablecar which'll link a South London private entertainment venue to an East London private exhibition venue. The skyline connection which'll be of far greater interest to tourists than commuters. The sponsored aerial pod-link which the Mayor is part-funding from the public purse. That ArabFly Dangleway. How's it coming on? Nearly complete, since you ask.

It's now a cablecar with cables, indeed has been for a while. But it's also now a cablecar with pods, lots of them, strung out across the Thames like baubles on a Christmas decoration [photo]. They've been testing the system recently, first a little, now a lot, to prepare the Dangleway for opening whenever that might be. Officially the word is "summer", because officially there's absolutely no suggestion it might be running before the Olympics. Unofficially, it'll blatantly be ready before the Olympics, because the cars are already running empty, and because the Dangleway has no other justifiable reason for existence. There's more on the latest round of testing from Ian Visits here. And below.

ArabFly North Greenwich: We have a station. It's still hemmed in behind blue boarding, but the curving two storey building is now built and surfaced. Pods land and halt behind the plastic screening [photo], then slowly edge round to launch off into the air again [photo]. You'll be climbing the stairs to the boarding zone this summer, yes you will, a bit like embarking on a ride at a theme park. That's after your four minute walk from the tube station, or your four minute walk from the nearest bus stop, unless anyone decides to add a new bus stop anywhere closer in the next couple of months. A fair few spectators were standing around this weekend, wandering slightly further from the Dome than any tourist rightly has need, to gawp at the novel sideshow appearing in the sky. A lone bloke with a camera, a Dad with daughters on silver scooters, a couple making their way back to their parked car, all seemed duly impressed. I kept looking for the mountain, because cablecars always feel like they should go up something rather than over, but this is no ordinary engineering structure. And it's all reassuringly unbranded so far, bar the name of the sponsor emblazoned across the slender base of each pod, although I doubt that'll last. [photo]

ArabFly Dangleway: Up it goes, up and swiftly up, to that first gentle rattle over the top of the high tower [video]. It didn't look too bumpy up there, from what I saw, although the pods are small and potential passengers need to expect some swaying during their journey. This being a test run there were plenty of stops and starts, and each stop brought gentle rocking as the momentum in each pod slowly dissipated. If you don't have a head for heights, and especially if you don't think you'd cope with being suspended by a cable in a not entirely stable way, then I'd recommend taking your potential panic attack elsewhere. Dangleway workers must be made of sterner stuff. I watched two orange-clad figures take a ride out in a maintenance gondola, stopping at the North main tower to clamber out and tweak some part of the overhead mechanism. The view from up there must be impressive, so long as you keep your eyes on the river and the middle distance, and definitely not on the industrial wasteland immediately inland. The area on the northern bank of the Thames is especially hideous, which may not be what tourists to London are expecting.

Dangleway fact: When the system's up and running at speed, I observed a new pod emerging from the station every 21 seconds.
Dangleway fact: I counted a maximum of 24 pods in the air at any one time, that's 12 in each direction.
Dangleway conclusion: 12 visible pods means 13 gaps. If each gap is 21 seconds travel, then it'll take somewhere between 4½ and 5 minutes to cross from one station to the other.

ArabFly Dangleway: Down come the pods, across the DLR, a dual carriageway and a Thai restaurant [photo]. The latter could definitely do with any increased trade the Dangleway might bring - it was nigh empty at the height of lunchtime yesterday, as it's been every time I've passed. Also hoping for a boost will be The Crystal, a brand new visitor attraction sponsored by Siemens and based on (stay awake there) sustainability. Its jagged form is substantially complete, now being fitted out inside, and it too should be ready to receive Olympic visitors in July. Planes from London City Airport scream overhead, ascending fast, but rest assured they're still high enough not to slam catastrophically into the cable as they pass. Time your Dangleway journey right, however, and an oncoming jet could be quite a sight. [photo]

ArabFly Royal Docks: The descending cable runs low across the walkway at the end of the Royal Victoria Dock, slanted at a fairly steep angle for passengers coming in to land [video]. The station's pretty much identical to that at the North Greenwich end, although it's easier here to stare into the machinery around the inner platform [photo]. And there's just as little of interest outside. A hotel or three, a Londis and a brand new Tesco Express, plus blocks of characterless apartments perched above their own private gyms. Turn left and there's a pub, the Tidal Basin Tavern, long since closed and boarded up. Turn right and a six minute walk will take you to the western entrance of the ExCel exhibition centre. That's walking fast, and that's longer than the cablecar ride across the Thames. Tourists may struggle to find something to do if there's no exhibition on, apart from admire the giant cranes lined up along the wharfside. Or more likely turn back and admire the miniature pods strung out across the dock and river, before forking out again for the return journey [photo]. You'll be doing just that within the next couple of months, I'll bet. But whether or not you'll come again a second time, that'll be the key measure of the Dangleway's success.

Trolleybus 50

2012-05-13T00:50:00.007+01:00

The last time London introduced a cable-related means of public transport, it didn't last. Trolleybuses first appeared in 1931 as a replacement for trams, their overhead connectors offering better manoeuvrability than rails. Soon London had the largest trolleybus network in the world... but it didn't last. A decision was made to replace trolleybuses with go-anywhere diesel vehicles, many of them Routemasters, and wires strung above our roads gradually disappeared. The very last London trolleybus ran on Tuesday 8th May 1962, from Wimbledon to Fulwell via Raynes Park, Kingston and Hampton Court. That'll be 50 years ago this week, which was the cue for a celebratory event yesterday at the bus garage where that last journey ended. A little event for London, but a big event in Fulwell.

Trolleybus 50, it was called. Any excuse for bus lovers to come and stare, and ogle, and take photos, and generally immerse themselves in all things omnibus. Normally it's part of the parking area in front of the bus garage, but yesterday a dozen vehicles were lined up around a small quadrangle, including that very final very last trolleybus [photo]. There's still a sign in the back window reading "THE END", and a medallion of the Queen hanging from the front window of the top deck. You could climb aboard and, if you were patient enough to wait, climb the back stairs to the upper seats for that true trolleybus experience [photo]. Alongside was London's very first trolleybus, affectionately known as a Diddler, which also made a commemorative run on that last day in May 1962. Completing the trio was a rare post-war trolleybus, complete with adverts for Co-Op 99 tea, its red and black paintwork polished and gleaming. [photo]

It was busy, this event, busier than you'd expect. Several locals had turned up, but the place was especially packed with People Who Like Buses. They're a hardy breed, many not a little obsessed, and will travel anywhere if there's a chance of a heritage vehicle to stroke. They're not averse to standing around in pairs discussing route discrepancies ("yes, the 108B terminated just before the Blackwall Tunnel") or, more likely, praising one model over another ("I do like the RM, don't get me wrong, but for me it doesn't have the smooth lines of the RT"). They tend to be older, and are almost invariably men, but younger bus-spotters are continually rising slowly in the ranks. And they were clearly annoying one another yesterday, entirely unintentionally, by standing in front of the various vehicles and blocking clear line of sights. Gentlemen with cameras stood patiently, and not quite so patiently, waiting for close-up starers and casual passers-by to get out of their bloody camera shots thank you. You wait months to see these lovely buses, and then you can't quite capture them for posterity because too many other folk have come to mingle too.

There were other vehicles to see too, not just trolleybuses [photo]. A couple of single deckers - an old red RF and Cobham Bus Museum's Leyland Tiger - drew admiring glances. Plus a whole row of double deckers, one of which was a green London Country RML, just like used to roll past my house when I was very small, which caused a pang of mild nostalgia [photo]. Another bus was available for actual rides - a short hop up the road to Hampton Hill [photo]. Proper enthusiasts could buy books and photos of buses, oh so very many photos of buses, or even walk away with a genuine SW London bus blind for only a fiver. I'm sure many a wife exclaimed "What the hell have you bought that for? It's not going up in here!" when their bus obsessed husbands arrived home. But let's not overlook the event's mainstream accessibility. Nicholas Owen the newsreader came along to open proceedings, and there was even an outside broadcast from the DJs at Epsom Hospital Radio. You'd have enjoyed it, unless you'd have absolutely hated it, and you'll know which. All hail to the trolleybus, once workhorse of our streets, now a minor object of worship down Fulwell way.
Other people's photos: Alan, wirewiping, Peter, Hoosier Sands, Debster!

Brixton Windmill

2012-05-13T00:05:00.001+01:00

It's National Mills Weekend this weekend, the annual second weekend in May when many of the nation's windmills and watermills fling their doors open to the public. If you're bored with nowhere to go today, maybe there's one near you. I thought I'd try my luck at Brixton Windmill, recently restored to full working order. I tried on National Mills Weekend last year, only to be told by a volunteer that there were unexpected building repairs to be made and the place was shut. Good news this year, no hitches... and, by the looks of it, no queues. Perhaps that's not surprising, given that Brixton Windmill's well off the beaten track in a small park behind the prison, and pretty much invisible from any major local thoroughfare. There was nobody buying plants or postcards from the lovely ladies on the Friends stall, just a woman by the mill door wielding the signing-in book. Guided tours only she said, so come back in about fifteen minutes, and go and buy some tea and cakes while you're waiting. I came back and joined the next group, only to be told by the same woman in a not entirely smiley manner to go back outside again because only five people per tour were allowed. Could I come back in about fifteen minutes, and go and buy some tea and cakes while I was waiting? I sort of lost interest at this point and gave up, despite the kindnesses of some of the other volunteers, but you might well have more luck. The trick it seems is to book a tour online in advance, because that way you get to climb the ladders right to the top of the windmill in a very small select group. Turning up on spec only gets you to the first floor, if you're lucky, and you don't mind having tea and cakes while you wait. I doubt I'll be waiting again.

May 2002

2012-05-12T07:00:00.013+01:00

I wasn't blogging ten years ago. There wasn't any Twitter either.
But what if I had been? Here's what you missed.

Wow! The view from the top of the Empire State Building is amazing, but there's something missing downtown. Off to the big hole later.
posted by diamondgeezer [11:45 AM May 1st, 2002]

Friday, May 03, 2002

Just back from the opening night of Spiderman! We saw it at Loew's Theatre on 42nd Street, on opening night, in the very city in which much of the movie was filmed. They gave us a questionnaire to fill in, and a free pencil, and I had nothing but good things to say afterwards. On the way home we took the Roosevelt Tramway, just like in the movie, but didn't end up dangling over the water being rescued by a superhero in spandex. Earlier on we did the Guggenheim, second time lucky after discovering it's closed on Thursdays, and had a pink lemonade in Central Park. I've taken lots of photos today. I'm using my cutting edge digital camera, which is nearly full but I can't download anything until I get back to London. Shame I'll lose all my photos in that hard drive blue screen of death in a few years time, but who needs visual memories anyway?

The plane's half empty but I still didn't get a window seat. Nearly managed 1hr sleep, but got woken by turbulence. Breakfast over Ireland.
posted by diamondgeezer [05:30 AM May 5th, 2002]

Yay, Arsenal beat Manchester United to take the Cup and League double. It's par for the course, obviously.
posted by diamondgeezer [10:03 PM May 8th, 2002]

Sunday, May 12, 2002

I hate barbecues. I hate them especially when I'm there at the start, at the time everyone was supposed to arrive, but nobody has. I got to help out moving the plastic furniture, because someone rightly worked out I'd be a liability at the grill. Then the briquettes ran out, which slowed down the cooking, and there was a lot of standing around nibbling crisps with people I don't know. Someone brought a German Shepherd puppy, which was interminably frisky, and far more interested in being sociable than I was. Eventually I risked a hotdog, but thought better of the charred chicken because I can't afford not to go to work tomorrow. At least there was a good view sat up the end of the garden by the summerhouse, looking down over Brighton and the Channel. Couldn't wait to get away. I hate barbecues.

Unimpressed by Attack of the Clones. A long love story with too many air chases and too little plot. But blessedly little Jar Jar.
posted by diamondgeezer [09:47 PM May 16th, 2002]

I just signed up for this broadband thing. It had better be good.
posted by diamondgeezer [07:10 PM May 23rd, 2002]

Friday, May 31, 2002

I took the day off specially. Sometime between eight and six, they said, but they couldn't be more specific than that. So I got up at the usual time, sneaked out to buy a paper before I didn't dare leave the house again, and waited. I'd finished reading it by nine, and nothing doing yet. If only I had a displacement activity, you know, maybe one of these new-fangled blog things, maybe that could have kept me busy. There was mild excitement when the doorbell went, but it was only the postman with something he didn't think I'd be in to sign for. At least I was around to watch the opening of the World Cup, although the opening ceremony was nauseating, and South Korea/Japan wasn't exactly a thriller to kick off with. By four I'd rung the depot to check my delivery was on the lorry, and it was, so I waited some more. Tidied a bit. Stuck the washing on. Paced up and down. And nothing. So at just before six I rang the depot again, only to get a recorded message saying they were now closed until Wednesday. Bloody Jubilee weekend, innit? I hope we never get another one.

Lynne is the first evictee from Big Brother 3, so Jade survives!
posted by diamondgeezer [10:25 PM May 31st, 2002]

Maybe it's just as well I waited, and you missed out.

Promote this you blogger

2012-05-11T07:00:00.009+01:00

PR folk continue to send me PR emails asking if I'll join their PR bandwagon and promote their PR agenda. And I continue to turn them down, because I never do that sort of thing. Here are some of the choicer pleadings I've wilfully turned down recently.

Rebecca fired off an email last month offering me £50 worth of free taxi rides if I was willing to review her London taxi app. I wasn't willing, as you'll have noticed, and politely told her so. Ignorant of my response, her colleague Joan decided to introduce herself last week. Here's her request, which is an almost perfect misfire on every level.

Hi! Nice to meet you!
I believe the follow-up to your “Random Borough” project should have something to do with food or drink... Maybe ordering “a random drink” at different bars, or going to a random restaurant each time and ordering the same dish (shepherd's pie!). The foodies of the world (including me) will definitely appreciate it! I thought you’d also like the idea of free transportation for your next adventures in London :) I work at <London taxi app> -- a black cab ordering app, and we’re giving away cab rides to some of the best bloggers and journalists in London. We’d love to know what you think and maybe your readers would too.

I had to point out to Joan that a) I'm not a foodie, b) I don't have a smartphone, c) I never travel by taxi and d) I never promote stuff. Also, surely one "No thanks" email should be enough? Joan's promised never to contact me again. I live in hope.

Richard had also failed on a previous attempt to attract my attention, so he tried the direct approach.

PROMOTE THIS YOU "BLOGGER"
<http://artpromotionthing.com/art-london-app-features.html>

The direct approach proved EQUALLY UNSUCCESSFUL.

Jorge missed the point.

I know you don't want marketing emails. Does this include informative editorial requests? I want some coverage on Bishopsgate and the financial quarter. If it's appropriate, can we discuss?

No Jorge, we so couldn't.

Sarah was entirely mistaken.

Good to chat to you just now and as explained, delivery diet brand, <Diet Brand>, has uncovered some shocking truths about British snacking behaviour - not least that more than one in ten of us (12%) would rather snack than have sex.

I had to point out to Sarah that we hadn't chatted just now, because I'd have told here where to stick her entirely pointless survey. "Apologies", she said, but "predictive email struck and meant to send it to someone else." A bit worrying that, I thought, given that we'd never exchanged emails before.

Another Sarah contacted me with a potentially amazing offer.

Hey Diamond Geezer,
We really like your website and presentation style, we thought you may be interested in this opportunity as you have been covering the Olympics... <Top Olympic Sponsor> is looking for a talented blogger to send to the London 2012 Olympics, and to report on the Games in your own unique style. It's an all-expenses-paid trip. We think you'd be a great candidate.

Oddly enough, an all-expenses trip to London didn't excite me as much as Sarah hoped. And she wasn't offering me the job, she was merely pointing out auditions for the first round of a global competition. But I don't do video blogs, Sarah, I write stuff. And my new <Top Olympic Sponsor> camera is so <expletive deleted> that I have zero brand love for your company. You're better off without me, and I'm better off without you.

Finally, here's a novel approach I hadn't seen before. Victoria tweeted me last week with the offer of a free ticket to a black tie royal gala dinner!

@diamondgeezer Would you like to attend this next Friday? DM me your number and I'll get you on the list: http://t.co/d22YMIim

This is for an Olympic fund raiser taking place tonight at the Royal Albert Hall, in support our top Team GB athletes. It features performers such as <boy-band member> and <former Spice Girl>, in the presence of <balding young prince> and <his radiant wife>. Most attendees had to shell out well over £100 for a ticket, whereas I can have one for nothing, apparently, so long as I brush up nicely and write kind things. I have absolutely no intention of going, because I have principles and it all sounds socially hideous. But you might have no such scruples. It strikes me that Victoria has no idea what I look like, so if one of you went in my place she'd be none the wiser. Would you like to attend this tonight? DM me your number and I'll get you on the list :)

And to any other PR folk out there, the usual message. Please, you're wasting your time, so don't bother.

Inside the Olympic Park

2012-05-10T01:00:00.000+01:00

www.flickr.com: my Olympic Stadium Test Event gallery

There are 40 photographs altogether, from Tuesday's London Disability Athletics Challenge
(including 10 new ones, all from outside in the Olympic Park, which is what I'm going to tell you about today)

Getting to the Olympic Park: Once you exit Stratford station, you'll be in no doubt as to where the Olympic Park is. Not only are there giant pink signs, but there are also several human beings specially hired to point the way. And they really do point. Everyone's been given an oversized padded foam hand, labelled "Olympic Park", which they wave whenever a potential spectator walks by. As far as I know, nobody's been given a padded foam hand labelled "Station" for the walk back, but the giant pink signs should be perfectly adequate for that too. Over the weekend, it has to be said, the number of human finger pointers was entirely excessive, but I'm sure they'll be rather more useful in the summer.

Security: You won't believe how incredibly friendly Olympic Security is. Normally, at airports, security gates are operated by dour disciplinarians and joyless bastards. Not here. Everyone smiled, everyone was pleasant, and almost everyone said Hello. It was lovely the first couple of times, then slightly disconcerting, and eventually just a little bit forced. Still, it was far better than the grumpy guilt-assumed alternative. Spectators for Tuesday's event had been asked to arrive with at least 90 minutes to spare, which seemed like complete overkill when I breezed up to the scanning zone facing no queue whatsoever. My bag spent longer in the X-ray scanner than I was expecting, possibly because the guard was checking the water bottle I'd brought didn't breach regulations, or possibly because I'd dared to smuggle a non-Cadbury's chocolate snack inside. That's perfectly acceptable, and I was waved straight in. However I can confirm that wearing a "Dow Chemicals Poisoning The Olympic Games" t-shirt wipes the smiles away and gets you instantly chucked out, so don't even try.

Inside the Park: It's big, the Olympic Park, well over a mile from top to bottom, so do factor in a long walk if you're attending an event at the far end. No such trouble on Tuesday, just the fairly brief walk across two bridges to the Stadium. From the first bridge, over the Waterworks River, there was a fine view of the Water Polo Arena sloping gently down above a row of fibreglass crayons. Then past the nose of the Aquatic Centre - still not looking as impressive as it might with those two grandstand seating wings attached. And over bridge two, across the City Mill River, another long view up the spine of the park. The greenery's a little bit formal, a little bit new, and definitely not the unkempt waterside that used to be here five years ago. And yes, at the far end, that arena-sized brown prefab is indeed the largest McDonalds in Europe. Blimey. It's not open yet, but when it is you'll be able to drop inside for all the usual stuff you can buy at a high street McDonalds only masses more of it. Don't worry, there'll be plenty of alternative eating options throughout the Park (but nobody else is allowed to serve burgers).

The Orbit: It's tall, isn't it, the Great Red Coiltrumpet, especially when you're almost underneath. The lift'll head straight up the central core, which looks very open, except when shielded by the helter skelter stairs down. It looks like you'll be able to see inside the Olympic Stadium from the double decker observation deck at the top, but don't quote me on that if I've misjudged. The base of the Orbit is still inaccessible at the moment, and will be until the start of the Games, but tickets go on sale at the end of the month for Olympic Park ticketholders. Will the view, and the 30 minute trip, be worth £15? I'll tell you in July.

Stadium Island: To cross onto the concrete ring around the stadium requires passing through another ticket check. Once you're through, you then have the whole of the circuit at your disposal. Around the edge are a ring of slanting prefabs, most acting as vending units, some as toilets. None of the food units are branded, only McDonalds are allowed to do that, and so are given bland descriptive names instead - "Pan-Asian" "Bar" "Taste of India" "Sweet Treats" etc etc. The crowd on Tuesday was small, so we had only two choices - "Coffee" and "Jacket Potato". This taxed many spectators who'd not thought to bring food of their own (perfectly legal), because the only hot option was a £5+ spud in a box with some salad. The choice'll be much better, if not cheaper, in the summer. Meanwhile, over at the coffee booth, there was a special offer for anyone paying with a Visa contactless card. Wave your plastic in exchange for a £2.60 muffin, or whatever, and you got a special voucher for a free gift. Take that voucher to "Visa Customer Services" nextdoor and it was exchanged for... roll of drums... a branded bag-for-life featuring a London 2012 skyline. Inside the bag, in a supreme act of pointlessness, was a leaflet suggesting you might want to get a Visa contactless card, despite the fact you must already have one. That and a chocolate Wenlock on a stick, such is the generosity of the Games' corporate sponsors.

The Olympic Stadium: It looks like any other stadium when you're walking around the edge - a very long perimeter beneath towering grandstands. Like any other stadium except there are no gates - the rivers around the arena act as the necessary security barrier - so you can wander pretty much at will. Dotted round the edge are several toilet blocks, emblazoned with bold graphic identities, and all sustainably temporary too. Ladies, rejoice, because someone's recognised your facilities take up more space than the gents, so there are two female blocks for every male. I can only tell you about the gents, however, where there are 30-ish urinals, eight hand-washing taps and only two driers, so expect either queues or poor hygiene. The exterior of the stadium is zoned by colour, to help you remember where your seat is. You might for example navigate via the yellow toilets, or aim for the red stairs - it's simple, but extremely effective, and translucently pretty too. The media have their own entrance aligned with the finishing line, where a separate (and ugly) staircase also allows entry to anyone with a corporate box. The rest of us mere ticketholders get to walk through the rim of the stadium and then up or down stairs to our seats, ready for the action to begin. And, sorry, you non ticket-holders, you don't get to do any of this at all. Enjoy front of house on the telly, but backstage'll have to remain a mystery.