Just before four this afternoon three ageing sisters appeared in the sky over London. Office workers stood respectfully on rooftops, pointing eastward as the first Concorde appeared. A second silver speck grew slowly in size to the south, and finally a third joined the procession across the capital. Nose down, landing gear down, engines blaring, the three planes cast their shadow across the city for the last time. I watched all three pass by, heading gracefully into the sun, towards Heathrow and into retirement. And then they were gone, and only a lump in the throat remained.
Birdwatching
I used to live under the Heathrow flight path, just a few miles away from the airport. Every evening at ten past seven I'd turn up the volume on my television to prepare for Concorde's daily flypast, awaiting the sudden arrival of a screaming silver bird in the sky, and then two minutes later return my TV to its normal volume. Anywhere else in the country a Concorde flypast would have been a special event, with crowds out on the streets to watch her pass over, but few of the locals round where I lived ever even stopped to look up. Their loss.
I used to live in Suffolk, where to spot any plane in the sky was a rare sight and Concorde was never seen. It still impacted on our lives though. On Tuesday 25th July 2000 a group of Suffolk students were on a summer trip to France and due to be staying in a small hotel in Gonesse, an obscure suburb of Paris. Their coach was still a few miles short of checking in when Concorde hit a metal strip on the runway at nearby Charles De Gaulle airport, burst into flames and crashed onto that very same hotel. Had the accident happened an hour later the terrible loss of life in that fireball would have been even greater, and would have included people I actually knew. Great loss.
I now live in London, rather further from Heathrow, but Concorde is still sometimes part of my sky. I remain one of those people who stops and stares every time she flies over, in the same way that an ornithologist would stop and stare at a passing osprey. Last year I took up position in Trafalgar Square for the Queen's Golden Jubilee flypast, not for the antique planes but for Concorde to fly directly overhead, flanked by nine Red Arrows. Most impressive. Today's final flypast sees three consecutive Concordes due to swoop into Heathrow at 4 o'clock this afternoon. I hope their final flightpath takes them over central London, because I'll be watching from my 7th floor office window just in case I'm allowed one last fleeting glimpse before the species becomes extinct. Our loss.
It's said that we English talk about the weather far too much. That's probably because we actually have weather in this country, where it can be cold and dry one day but mild and wet the next. We love to kick off our conversations by telling each other the meteorologically obvious ("sunny, isn't it?"). And can there be another country in the world where the weather forecast starts off with what the weather has been before going on to tell us what it will be? Ah, the weather, we do love it, even if it doesn't love us.
Every year the Tate Modern attempts to fill its giant Turbine Hall with a giant work of art. In 2000 they installed a couple of tall twirly staircases and a giant spider, sculpted out of steel by Louise Bourgeois. In 2001 there were lifts disappearing upwards through a series of darkened rooms courtesy of Juan Muñoz, and last year Anish Kapoor's giant red ring thing that somehow I completely managed to miss seeing. But now for 2003, rising for the first time last week, it's Olafur Eliasson's solar-inspired The Weather Project. And what better way to fill a huge space than with light?
I visited the Tate Modern yesterday for an early view of this new meteorological phenomenon. An enormous yellow sun now beams out from the eastern wall of the Turbine Hall. Clouds of fine mist hang in the air and the ceiling above is completely covered by mirrors, doubling the height of the sky. The whole place feels like a cathedral to the great sun god, which must be why half the population of London has come along to worship. Down on the floor a congregation has gathered, most gawping in awe and wonder at the great solar disc, others lying prostrate to gaze upon their distant reflection in the mirrors above.
If you walk right to the end of the hall to stand behind the sun, the illusion is shattered. Above your head is suspended a semicircle of yellow lamps, reflected in another mirror to form a ring of light. Look back into the hall and all you see now is a crowd behaving strangely, like a bunch of weather-obsessed primitives worshipping a scientific phenomenon they don't understand. But walk back into the light and the eclipse is over, the magic returns and you become a sun-worshipper again. Most impressive.
On leaving the Tate Modern yesterday it was back out into the autumn sunshine (10°C, northwesterly wind at 5mph, skies mostly clear, showers threatening later). There in the sky hung a distant small yellow globe, totally ignored by those exiting the gallery. Somehow the real thing couldn't hold a candle to the artificial sun inside. But then you can't walk round the back of the real sun to see how it works (well, not unless you're willing to wait for six months anyway). Let there be light. And do come and see it before it sets.
Friday, October 10, 2003
Tube watch (5)This week terminates here I wasn't sure whether an entire week devoted to the London Underground was a good idea or not. As it turns out, I needn't have worried. Either you lot out there are as obsessed with the tube as I am, or you've kept coming back to see how much lower I could sink. I'm stopping now and going back to whatever 'normal' on diamond geezer is, but I think I have enough material to try hosting another tube week sometime. Just not soon, OK?
To finish, here are some tube-related websites I've discovered this week, or used to aid my research: • Geoff's selection of silly tube maps, including a rude version, an upside-down version, a German version, a geographically realistic version, a motorway version, a blank version and a version without the Central line. • Rodcorp's Walklinesmap, showing all the stations less than 500m apart at ground level. • Owen's Mappers Delight page, which links to more than 30 different webpages about the London tube map. • A London Underground report from a few years ago, with a zoom-in-able ultra-detailed geographical tube map on the back cover, plus tons of journey-related statistics. • Clive's UndergrounD line guides - his anorak is bigger than mine. • The official London Underground webpage, with a lot of statistics hidden beneath the surface. • Transport plans for the London area, which hasn't been updated for a couple of years but is fascinating all the same. • The h2g2Ultimate Guide to the London Underground, an eclectic selection of facts, observations and trivia. • Tube Prune, the Underground seen from a tube driver's point of view. • Proposals to introduce Business Class and Cattle Class on the new-tube. • Tons of stuff on disusedtube stations (but that's for next time...)
Tube geek (5)Speed It can take forever to drive across London. The streets are crowded, there are traffic lights every 200 yards and half the roads are in fact only bus lanes. The Underground is therefore a quicker way to get around, as you can always tell when your train hurtles round a sharp curve throwing you into the lap of an unsuspecting fellow-traveller. However, your tube train probably isn't going as fast as you might think. Even if the driver does manage to get the speed up to 40mph, it's never long before he has to slam the brakes on again to stop at the next station. And then another station, and another, stop, go, stop, go, getting nowhere fast.
I've had a go at finding London's fastest, and slowest, tube lines. I've measured the longest possible journey on each tube line (for example, on the Northern line that's High Barnet to Morden, via Bank). Then I've used London Underground's route finder to find out how many minutes that journey takes, and used that to calculate an average speed. Two of the longest lines come out on top, maybe because the distances between the stations are greater, although the equally long Piccadilly and District lines come a lot further down the list. The poor old Circle line is the slowest, its infrequent trains held up by services on other lines in endless queues round a never-ending loop, but it's still faster than your average car (just about).
Speed limit on roads in central London: 30mph
Central: 34 miles in 81 minutes (25 mph) Metropolitan: 28 miles in 70 minutes (24 mph) Jubilee: 24 miles in 62 minutes (23 mph) Waterloo & City: 1½ miles in 4 minutes (22½ mph) Victoria: 13 miles in 36 minutes (22 mph) Northern: 23 miles in 69 minutes (20 mph) Bakerloo: 14 miles in 43 minutes (19½ mph) Piccadilly: 32 miles in 100 minutes (19 mph) District: 27 miles in 88 minutes (18½ mph) Hammersmith & City: 17 miles in 58 minutes (17½ mph) East London: 4 miles in 15 minutes (16 mph) Circle: 13 miles in 56 minutes (14 mph) Average speed on roads in central London: 11mph
Tube quiz (5)All change (Just the one problem today, but it's a really tough one) The problem: There are 12 tube lines in London, plus the Docklands Light Railway. Your challenge is to identify a journey that travels along each of these 13 lines once, and travels exactly one station along each line.
Note: No walking from one station to another is permitted. You may not use transport other than these 13 lines (no buses, taxis, Thameslink, etc). After travelling one station along any line, you must change to another line.
Example: Start at Farringdon, travel on the Circle Line to Kings Cross, travel on the Northern line to Euston, travel on the Victoria line to Warren Street... and now you're stuck because you've already travelled on both the lines passing through this station.
The solution: As far as I know, this problem has a unique solution (apart from a couple of different options for the first and last stations on the route).
A hint to get you started: If you think about it, there's a couple of one-stop journeys that must be part of the correct route.
Chance of you lot coming up with the correct answer: Very small. Go on, prove me wrong. (Bloody impressive James, spot on: Well done. And all while the rest of us were asleep.)
Thursday, October 09, 2003
Tube watch (4)Ten ways to reduce tube overcrowding • Encourage short journeys: turn up the heating in the summer and install air-conditioning in the winter.
• Increase overground capacity: double the number of buses and increase the Congestion Charge to £50.
• Reflect best practice in mainline rail travel: demand seat reservations and pre-booking for all tube journeys.
• Increase available space in carriages: confiscate all rucksacks and wheelie suitcases at the ticket barriers.
• Introduce selection: demand that passengers pass an entrance exam before issuing them with travelcards.
• Reduce demand: shut down the whole system, because if there are no trains there'll be no overcrowding.
• Establish a culture of fear: place an accordion player on every train, or hang up gasmasks in every carriage.
• Reduce passenger numbers: install razor-sharp sliding doors on trains and remove all safety notices.
• Relocate excess capacity: swap station names to confuse foreign tourists, for example Chigwell with Oxford Circus.
• Invest in tube infrastructure: sorry, I've been trying to keep ridiculous and improbable suggestions off this list.
Tube geek (4)London's busiest stations Lurking deep on the tube's official website lie a mountain of facts and figures on a page called London Underground performance update. Click on 'customer metrics', and then 'entries and exits', and you'll find detailed information on passenger numbers for every tube station on the network (well, all except three, for some reason). I now know, for example, that I'm one of 2188 passengers who enter my local station during the morning rush hour, whereas 87653 people exit Oxford Circus station every Saturday. Anorak heaven.
I've been busy investigating the total number of passengers using each station during 2001, attempting to come up with some sort of league table. The figures are for passengers entering or leaving the station only, not those changing lines, so some stations are even busier than shown. And sadly Victoria is one of the three stations with missing data, which is a shame because I think it's top of the list...
More than thirty million: Victoria (millions), Kings Cross St Pancras (79 million), Waterloo (66 million), Oxford Circus (64 million), Liverpool Street (54 million), Baker Street (43 million), London Bridge (38 million), Leicester Square (35 million), Piccadilly Circus (33 million), Tottenham Court Road (32 million), Paddington (31 million) More than fifteen million: Bond Street (28 million), Green Park, Euston, Hammersmith, South Kensington, Holborn, Finsbury Park, Bank, Charing Cross, Moorgate, Earl's Court, Tower Hill, Canary Wharf, Embankment, Brixton, Knightsbridge, Stratford, Covent Garden, Farringdon, Camden Town (15 million)
Meanwhile, down at the bottom of the list, below are London's least used tube stations. Most are on the edges of the tube network, although there are three poorly used stations in Zone 2 on the East London line, all of which are under threat of closure. The far reaches of the Metropolitan line are rather quiet, particularly the station that was my local while I was growing up. But it's the Hainault loop of the Central line that's especially underused, which would explain why a whole stretch of it shuts down at 8pm every evening. I guess everyone in Chigwell has a car...
Less than a million: West Finchley (947099), Hillingdon, Rotherhithe, South Ruislip, Northwood Hills, Chorleywood, Kenton, Canons Park, Heathrow Terminal 4, West Harrow, Wapping, Watford, Mill Hill East, West Ruislip, Ickenham, North Ealing, Upminster Bridge, South Kenton, Chesham, Moor Park (520850) Less than half a million: Barkingside (471998), Croxley (447897), Ruislip Gardens (432271), Theydon Bois (388698), Shoreditch (327844), Fairlop (327036), Roding Valley (175851), Grange Hill (156065), Chigwell (110556)
Tube quiz (4)Name that station (2) 1) Name the only station served by six tube lines.
2) Name the only station served by five tube lines.
The following five old stations have been renamed. What are they called now? 3) Post Office
4) Aldersgate
5) Dover Street
6) Trafalgar Square/Strand
7) Charing Cross
And I don't claim that these last three questions are original, but they're good all the same. 8) Name the only tube line that interchanges with every other tube line.
9) Name the only tube station which shares none of the letters in its name with the word 'mackerel'.
10) It's possible to take one tube train and travel through ten consecutive stations all starting with the same letter of the alphabet. Where?
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
Tubewatch (3)Tube workout Just because you're stuck on the tube doesn't mean you can't get some exercise in. There are plenty of opportunities underground to boost your health and fitness. Here's diamond geezer's guide to a successful tube workout. Let me be your personal train-er.
• Warming up: you can overheat on the tube every summer and shed pounds - beats any sauna.
• Waits: you use up five times as many calories waiting for a train for 10 minutes than you do waiting for 2 minutes.
• Step Ups: this ancient martial art can be practised while battling your way into a crowded train.
• Squat thrusts: compete in the sprint for a newly-vacated seat during the rush hour.
• Crunches: stand in a tube carriage at 6pm and your flabby body has no choice but to squeeze into half the space it normally occupies.
• Anaerobic activity: experience total lack of oxygen every time a fellow traveller has forgotten to use deodorant.
• Strap hanging: reach out with both hands, grab the hanging dangly things, stretch, lift, hold... and down.
• The Atkins diet: this is sure to be successful because the only food you can buy on a tube platform is a chocolate bar.
• Treadmill: walking down those long tunnels when changing lines is a heck of a lot further than you think.
• Escalator climbing: much better than step aerobics because you actually get somewhere, and less lycra is involved.
Tube geek (3)North and South Tube stations are spread out very unfairly across London. North of the Thames there are 242 tube stations, for example, whereas there are only 33 to the south. Disturbingly, most of those 33 southern stations are on the so-called Northern Line. South London does have far more Network Rail lines than the north, but the trains running on the overground are older, shabbier, less reliable and far less frequent, so they don't really count. Connex and South West Trains are names that bring daily misery to millions, far more depressing than anything the District or Victoria lines could ever conjure up. And remember that it was councils south of the river that scuppered Ken Livingstone's Fares Fair policy back in the the early 1980s, because local taxes were being frittered away on tube services that nobody in their boroughs could actually use.
I've been busy with a large map of the capital counting the number of tube stations in each London borough. (Because I can, OK?) Here's the list in rank order, with the boroughs south of the river coloured in blue:
You might expect the central London borough of Westminster to be top of the list, and it is, but after that it's north and west London that fare best, by far. South of the river there are five boroughs with no tube stations at all, and only Southwark and Lambeth reach a vaguely reasonable total. The one glaring exception to the north-south rule is Hackney with a miserable one tube station (and that's only Manor House, in the top-left corner of the borough, right on the border with neighbouring Haringey). Hackney's total should increase to 4 when the East London line is extended in five years time, but it'll still be a grim place to live, tube-wise at least. But not quite as bad as living in south London.
Tubewatch (2)Underground translation "Due to planned engineering work": Just so you don't think this delay is our fault.
"A replacement bus service has been provided": It would be quicker to walk.
"Next train 2 minutes": Next train 3 minutes.
"Unattended baggage": Next train 23 minutes.
"No Entry": This passageway is in fact the quickest way out of the station.
"Way Out": Every year 50 people throw themselves in front of tube trains.
"Services are suspended due to passenger action": Make that 51.
"Mind the doors": Make that 51 and a bit.
"Please move down inside the carriages": Our trains are far far too overcrowded...
"Mind the gap": ... due to a chronic shortfall in public spending on tube infrastructure.
"Keep left" / "Please stand to the right" : correct political balance.
"Mmmf fmhmh hffmm": This totally inaudible announcement is in fact very important.
"Will Inspector Sands please come to the Operations Room" : There's a fire alert but we don't want to panic the general public.
Tube geek (2)Your carriage awaits Us seasoned tube travellers know exactly where to stand on each platform so that, at the other end of our journey, we get off the train right beside the correct station exit. Me, I'm the world expert at getting onto the rush hour Jubilee line at Westminster to make sure I'm always the first up the escalator at Green Park (it's crucial to be the last person into the rear of carriage number two). If you want to be able to pick your perfect spot on any central London platform, you'll find the ingenious Way Out tube map invaluable (maybe the best two quid you'll ever spend).
Meanwhile, here's the diamond geezer guide to choosing the correct carriage on the Circle Line (clockwise) for that perfect exit to street level:
• Front carriage: Baker Street, Barbican, Kings Cross St Pancras
• Second carriage: Bayswater, Farringdon, Moorgate, Notting Hill Gate, Paddington, St James Park (Victoria Street), Sloane Square, Victoria, Westminster
• Third carriage: Aldgate, Monument, South Kensington
• Fourth carriage: Embankment, High Street Kensington
• Fifth carriage: Blackfriars, Cannon Street, Euston Square, Gloucester Road, Liverpool Street
• Rear carriage: Edgware Road, Great Portland Street, Mansion House, St James Park (Broadway), Temple, Tower Hill
Tube quiz (2)Name that Northern Line station
Monday, October 06, 2003
Tubewatch (1)London is my Oyster I've had my new Oyster card for a fortnight now (note to non-Londoners: this is an electronic smartcard that you wave at a small yellow pad at the ticket barriers, rather than having to feed a cardboard ticket into a slot). I was expecting there to be all sorts of problems but, so far, I'm very impressed. It's great not to have to fiddle with your ticket at the barriers, and you do indeed sail through more quickly. There's a beep every time you use the card which can be disconcerting, particularly because 'normal' tickets are silent and up until now only invalid and children's tickets have made a noise. For those of us lost in headphone-world there's also a small light that turns green when your card registers, so I have yet to mess up and smash into the closed gates by mistake. Oyster works on buses too, although when the bus is packed it's a bit annoying not to be able to flash the card at the driver any more for a visual validation. Ticket inspectors on the DLR have, so far, merely glanced at the outside of the carrying case and moved on, I guess because there's nothing physically printed on the card for them to read. I do have niggling concerns that London Underground can now put together a complete electronic record of my movements around the capital, but I guess that having my mobile phone switched on is still much more of a giveaway. So far then, my Oyster's a pearl. Let's hope it stays that way.
Tube geek (1)It'd be quicker to walk Harry Beck's London Underground tube map is a design classic, bringing underground order to overground chaos. His network diagram provided Londoners with a vivid mental image of the way their capital is laid out, but surrendered geographical perfection for linear clarity. In short, the map tells lies about distance. According to the map it's the same distance from Paddington to Aldgate as it is from Paddington to Amersham, although in real life Amersham is at least five times further away.
A number of stations are in fact a lot closer in real life than they appear on the map. Every year thousands of tourists descend onto the Underground at Covent Garden for the one stop journey to Leicester Square, without realising that these two neighbouring stations are the closest together on the entire network, only 250 metres apart. It's possible to walk from one to the other at surface level in three minutes flat, whereas the tube journey takes at least five minutes even in perfect conditions (2 minutes down to the platform via the lift, 35 seconds on the train and 2½ minutes back up via the second longest escalator on the network). I checked. I'm like that, you know.
Here are a few other stations that are surprisingly close at street level, and the actual tube journey times between them (courtesy of the tube website's route finder) (See also tube map with walklines - here)
• Bayswater to Queensway (220 metres apart) - 14 minutes via Circle and Central lines • Regents Park to Great Portland Street (220 metres apart) - 17 minutes via Bakerloo and Circle lines • Euston to Euston Square (300 metres apart) - 22 minutes via Victoria and Circle lines • St Pauls to Mansion House (400 metres apart) - 25 minutes via Bank/Monument • Kenton to Northwick Park (400 metres apart) - 58 minutes via Bakerloo and Metropolitan lines • Ickenham to West Ruislip (1km apart) - 76 minutes via Piccadilly, District and Central lines
This week diamond geezer is going totally tubular, with five days devoted to the London Underground. Each day there'll be heaps of tube-based stuff, including observations, some anorakky facts and a puzzle (maybe getting a bit harder as the week goes on). For the purposes of today's quiz, and those coming up later, please remember that there are twelve tube lines, and that the Docklands Light Railway and Network Rail services are not included. As is traditional in these things, answers go in the comments box, and please guess no more than one station each.
Monday, September 29, 2003
Famous places within 15 minutes walk of my house Number 16 - the canals of East London
There are a number of canals in East London, and Bow is completely surrounded by them. To the West the Regents Canal, to the North the Hertford Canal, to the East the Lee Navigation and to the south the Limehouse Cut. All quite pretty in their own way, and a fine six mile circular walk is possible along the various towpaths.
Britain's first canals appeared in the late 18th century, the first successful method of transporting heavy cargo across the country. Four miles an hour may not have been fast, and numerous flights of locks slowed travel down even further, but for a few decades the canal was king. I could tell you more, but I'd rather not because I suffered canal overload while at primary school. My school was located less than half a mile from the Grand Union canal, and so we seemed to do a 'topic' on canals every single year. Duke of Bridgewater, coal, narrowboats, James Brindley, locks, bargemen, the coming of the railways... been there, done that, far too often.
In 1812 work began on the RegentsCanal through North London, providing a link from Paddington Basin on the Grand Union direct to the Thames at Limehouse. This 8½ mile waterway became a landscape feature of the new Regents Park, designed by John Nash, who was one of the canal's major shareholders. The Regents Canal passes beside London Zoo, starts to drop 86 feet at Camden Locks, then dives underneath Islington through a towpath-less tunnel. Pickfords the removals company was originally based here at the City Road basin, complete with 120 barges and stables for 120 horses, able to deliver freight to Birmingham in 2½ days flat. The canal runs on through Hackney and through Victoria and Mile End Parks before finally reaching the old Regents Canal Docks, now the posh housing development of Limehouse Basin.
The River Lea has been an important navigable waterway into London for over 500 years, and during the 18th century the navigation was much improved with new cuts and locks. Barges travelling between the Lea and the Regents Canal were forced to negotiate the great loop of the River Thames round the Isle of Dogs, so two short canals were built later to link the two together and reduce journey times. The Hertford Canal runs along the bottom of Victoria Park and has one of the most picturesque flights of locks in the capital, but was never a commercial success. The Limehouse Cut is an arrow-straight channel direct from Bow Locks to Limehouse, less picturesque and eerily quiet. British Waterways installed the UK's first floating towpath here under the Blackwall Tunnel Approach Road earlier this summer, complete with kingfisher styling and green lights in the footpath.
One less well-documented feature of the canals of East London is their miraculous healing power. It's possible to fall into the water complete with fatal gunshot wound and bunch of daffodils, and then to reappear 14 years later seemingly none the worse for wear. The BBC are screening a documentary tonight (BBC1,8pm) recounting the story of a middle-aged EastEnd publican whose gangland exploits saw him supposedly assassinated beside a local canal back in 1989. Despite the discovery of a headless body and a full family funeral, this lucky man apparently survived his underwater ordeal and has been recuperating in Spain ever since. The BBC filmed Mr Watts' miraculous return beside the Grand Union Canal in Alperton in West London, and alas not here in E3. However, I wouldn't be at all surprised to see sick pilgrims now queueing to visit the restorative canals in the Bow area to take the waters and heal themselves. We might even become the Lourdes of the EastEnd. After all, everyone's talking about it.
During the week in which London's top fashion designers have been showing off their latest collections on the capital's catwalks, the great British public have been slipping seamlessly into their autumn wardrobes. As usual the ordinary man or woman in the street has completely ignored the advice of Conran, Hamnett and Farhi, preferring a combination I can only describe as sportswear, street market and Matalan. A glance down any busy London high street this week reveals that this autumn's preferred colours are definitely blues - that's denim blue, navy blue, faded blue, bluey-black, bluey-white, bluey-grey, sportskit-blue, inflammable-nylon-blue, tacky-blue and generally-nondescript-blue. Every splash of bright colour has gone back into a drawer not to be glimpsed again until next spring.
However, there's one design that has made it into the general fashion consciousness all of a sudden, and that's the Burberry look. That sort of light brown tartan with a black and white grid and narrow red stripes, Burberry's now every-bloody-where. This brand was once an upmarket symbol of poshness and breeding, at least until the Burberry cap became part of the uniform of the modern sports-casual football supporter/hooligan. Now it appears that everyone wants to be seen in Burberry style - Burberry caps, Burberry wallets, Burberry handbags, Burberry scarves, Burberry jackets, Burberry umbrellas, even probably (pah!) Burberry wheelie suitcases. The counterfeiters haven't been far behind either, with not-quite-copyrighted tartans gracing t-shirts, Muslim-style hijab headscarves and even pensioners' shopping bags, all for under a fiver off your local market stall. In just a few short months Britain has become a land full of Burberry sheep. Alas, you've been fleeced, the lot of you.
It's exactly two years today since I moved out of Suffolk, to
Life, lifestyle, living, lots of stuff to do;
Oxford Street, Old Father Thames;
Nine centuries of history, now, new;
Diversity, design, discovery, delight;
Oyster cards, Open House; Olympics;
Nightlife, no tractors, no going back.
Every year, for a couple of days in the middle of September, the doors of about 500 of London's public and private buildings are thrown open to the public. This is London Open House weekend, a time to enjoy and celebrate the capital's varied architecture and history. From the 11th century Westminster Hall to the 21st century City Hall, you can take a peek inside buildings you'd normally only see from the outside, or maybe never even knew existed in the first place. Thanks to all the volunteers who make it all possible, and here's a list of some of the places I managed to visit this year...
Lloyd's of London: It's that dramatic futuristic building in the middle of the City, the one with twelve lifts on the outside, designed by Richard Rogers and opened in 1986. Us lucky visitors got to see their collection of old Lord Nelson ephemera, the enormous underwriting room full of hundreds of tiny desks where all the trading happens, the eleven-storey glass-windowed atrium, and the Lutine Bell that rings to bring news of lost ships (one ring bad, two rings good). Nice escalators too. Favourite fact: Edward Lloyd was never an underwriter, he merely owned Lloyd's coffee shop where the first maritime underwriters used to meet. Starbucks clearly still have a long way to go.
Tour: well-structured and impressive, 8/10. Guide: knowledgeable, friendly, 8/10.
Banqueting House: Not just another non-descript building down Whitehall, but an ornate Jacobean dining hall with huge painted ceiling. Many sumptuous banquests for nobles and heads of state have been held in this magnificent room. However, this weekend they'd set up a trestle table in one corner selling tea, Kit Kats, slices of swiss roll and Mr Kipling's cherry bakewells. A far cry from the building's glorious past. Favourite fact: The hall was built for King James I in 1622, but became the site of his execution in 1649.
Tour: brief and touristy, 5/10. Guide: just a video, 3/10.
Channel 4 Television: It's always a lottery on Open House weekend which tour guide you get. Some know their stuff inside out, while others have clearly never set foot in the property before. Here at Channel 4's HQ I got to the front of the queue just in time to miss the really well-informed guide, ending up instead with the token volunteer merely present to make up the numbers. She took us up in the scenic lift, which had nice views over, er, part of London. She told us that the C4 building had two sort of arms. She took us along the curvy walkway on the third floor behind the glass front bit, held up by the joint things. And we went out onto the terrace at the back, made of some kind of wood I think. Favourite fact: there's an ironing board in the Channel 4 boardroom, complete with iron, inbetween the flipchart and the widescreen TV.
Tour: not quite worthwhile, 4/10. Guide: wet blanket, 1/10.
26Whitehall: This morning you'd have found me queuing for an hour trying to gain entry to a tall posh building down Whitehall, otherwise known as the Ripley Building, otherwise known as the offices of the Deputy Prime Minister. This impressive Georgian building has been home to the Admiralty for nearly 300 years, and top navy men still meet to make important decisions in the wood-panelled Board Room on the first floor. John Prescott's ministerial team are now based in the building, although we were assured that the solitary Jaguar parked in the courtyard this morning wasn't his. Security was high (we're currently on 'Black Special', if you're interested) and we had to surrender our mobile phones and cameras on the way in. Favourite fact: Lord Nelson's body rested here on the night before his funeral, having been stored in a barrel of alcohol during the long voyage home from the battle of Trafalgar.
Tour: bit short given the long wait, 5/10. Three guides: one very good, one ok, one dire, average 5/10.
Limehouse Accumulator Tower: If you've ever travelled on the DLR from Limehouse to Westferry, you may have seen a fifty-foot octagonal brick tower right beside the railway tracks. It's not an old signal box, it's actually pioneering Victorian technology - a tower that once provided hydraulic power for raising heavy cargo at Regent's Canal dock. The tower has recently been restored as a viewing platform, although recent housing developments at Limehouse Basin have reduced the view somewhat. Sadly the tower is only open very occasionally which is a great shame because, on a sunny day like today, the view from the top is great. Favourite fact: To reach the top requires climbing two spiral staircases, the first inside the tower and the second inside the chimney.
Tour: classic industrial archaeology, 9/10. Guide: keen engineer, 8/10.
Also visited:
• Talkback Productions: award-winning big comedy, award-winning small offices.
• St Pancras Midland Hotel: except there were queues round the block, so I was glad I saw it last year instead.
• West India Quay Impounding Station: pumps the Thames into the Docklands docks, using original 1929 technology.
• House Mill, Bow: this is one of those famous places within 15 minutes walk of my house, so I've already written about it. Surprisingly big, impressively restored.
More than 30 years ago my Dad took me to see an exhibition of Bridget Riley's paintings at a top London art gallery. Today, sandwiched inbetween our Open House visits, he took me again.
It was way back in 1971 that I was dragged along to the Hayward Gallery on London's South Bank for my first look at Riley's op-art paintings. Her black and white geometrical designs appealed to a young child in short trousers, looking much more like optical illusions than traditional paintings. Her work was full of black stripes on a white background, or was it white stripes on a black background, it was hard to tell. This being pre-adolescence, I also rather liked the canvases smothered in greasy black spots. After a quick shuffle round the gallery I went back to my childhood and Bridget evolved into colour.
And then this weekend, with me now older than my dad was back then, we returned to view her work again. The Tate (Britain) is holding a Bridget Riley retrospective, starting off with the black and white paintings I'd seen before, and then bringing the portfolio up to date. Bridget's next works featured coloured stripes, repeated like barcodes but on a much larger scale. Some were all straight like a deckchair pattern, others were subtly curved and waved. She clearly had a thing for stripes because there were rooms of the things, eventually losing the black and white altogether. After about 20 years of doing lines, Ms Riley developed into multi-coloured overlapping parallelograms, and from there into her current obsession with curvy-section things. And circles.
Bridget never paints anything herself any more, she just gives precise instructions to her assistants telling them where all the geometrical shapes are going to go (and if you look carefully you can still see the pencil marks). One room of the exhibition was given over to her sketches and preparatory work, all scrupulously carefully drawn, with numerous colour-changes and notes scribbled in the margin. The whole show was precise and mathematical, but full of subtle light, warmth and feeling. Where else can you stand in a large room, stare at the wall and feel woozy for under a tenner (except in most pubs, of course). Me and my Dad, we'd both recommend a visit, but the exhibition closes next weekend so you'd better hurry. Who knows, your next chance might be in 2035.
Thursday, September 18, 2003
London Flash Mob ##3 - A novel experience(Click on photo to enlarge)
London has a new local library. It may only have opened for fifteen minutes, earlier this evening, but more books exchanged hands in that time that would normally be exchanged at your local library in a week. Welcome to Soho Square.
About four hundred expectant bibliophiles trooped down to Soho this evening, each of us clutching an unwanted book. All we'd been told was where to be and when, and that we might want to register our book at bookcrossing.com because we'd probably end up giving it away. We were grouped in six pubs by starsign, and I wonder how the Cancerians and Scorpios felt to find themselves in a rather pricey gay bar on the north edge of Soho Square. Me, I headed to the Dog and Duck in Frith Street along with the other Pisceans and tried to buy a drink at the tiny bar. This being London's third flash mob, I recognised and chatted to a few people who'd been before. Getting sad, isn't it?
Round came the small slips of paper listing our instructions and it was evident that, on their third attempt, our organisers were to be congratulated. A simple concept this time, one that could be summarised in just four words - swap books and applaud. Nothing complicated about mobile phones and letters of the alphabet, just go and stand in Soho Square from 6:30 and swap a book with a stranger. Every time you swap a book, smile for 3 seconds. And every time you see someone else swapping a book, applaud. At 6:45 leave. Simple. effective. So off we went.
We were invited to stand in a different corner of the square according to the type of book we'd brought with us - one corner for fiction, one for non-fiction, another for science fiction, the fourth for romance, and Harry Potter in the middle by the Tudor-style groundsman's cottage. I'd brought along a newish novel that I really couldn't get into and would be glad to get rid of, and so headed for the jam-packed fiction corner. Here was a sight to delight any jaded librarian, a huge crowd of people intent on literary betterment. And so the bartering began, to rapturous applause.
[take along Dead Air by Iain Banks] So, who was going to get my brand spanking new book? I hunted around for a decent replacement. [swap Dead Air for Dracula by Bram Stoker - applause] Bit of a classic, but probably not something I still wanted to be left with at the end of the evening. [swap Dracula for Nature of Australia - weak applause] Mistake. The cover looked nice, but this natural history book was no literary classic. It had to go. [swap Nature of Australia for a Japanese cartoon novel - wild applause] Result! This one looked brand new, with a cover like a bright washing powder packet. But... [swap Japanese cartoon novel for Women's Tennis Association handbook 2001 - gasps of disbelief] Why did I do that? My new book was clearly a booby prize, the literary equivalent of 3-2-1's Dusty Bin. Quick, only a few minutes left! [swap Women's Tennis Association handbook 2001 for a children's book called Look! - mocking applause] Not much better really, Twenty pages, mostly pictures. [swap Look! for Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton - applause - applause] Phew.
And so I came home with a book worth reading. Even better, it had a bookcrossing label in the front so I was able to find out who had brought it along in the first place. Cheers deano! I'm still waiting to see if anybody logs in to say they ended up with my book. All in all, a great success. An original idea held in a public space, with added sound effects and enough bemused passers-by to look over and wonder what the hell was going on. And everyone left smiling (except, presumably, whoever was unfortunate to walk away with the Women's Tennis Association handbook 2001). The next mob's planned for October. I wonder if I'll have finished my new book by then. I'm 30 pages in, and it's already much better than the film...
Sunday, September 14, 2003
London for the first time
I can't remember the first time I visited London. I grew up at the end of the Metropolitan line, so being taken into the capital was almost second nature from an early age. Certainly when I was four I took my mum on the Underground on a journey to Putney Bridge because I was more sure of the route than she was (thank goodness they hadn't invented blogs when I was four - I'd have been unsufferably precocious). Big Ben and St Paul's Cathedral have always been real places to me, not just visions seen in a book or on TV. For many children (and adults) around the rest of the country, London is merely a figment of their imagination, perhaps a town of opportunity where the streets are paved with gold, or maybe a scary rat-infested hotbed of crime.
Yesterday my nephews and niece (combined age 20) came down to central London from Norfolk for the first time. They were taken on a ten hour whistlestop tour of the capital, trying to experience as much as possible without overdoing it. From Docklands to the Eye and from David Blaine to Buckingham Palace, they saw the lot. Couldn't have picked a better day for it either. First impressions?
Lots of people for the first time: There are seven million people in London, ten times as many as in Norfolk crammed into an area a quarter of the size. And there are people everywhere here, squashed next to you on the bus, walking in front of you in the park, crowding around you down Oxford Street or barging into the same tube carriage that you're trying to get out of. It's a far more cosmopolitan mix of people than you'd ever find in Norfolk either, both the tourists and the residents. I thought the children coped well in what to them was a very alien environment.
London Transport for the first time: At Liverpool Street station more buses passed by in five minutes than they'd normally see in a month. In Docklands the concept of a driverless train proved hard to explain. At Green Park the escalator was ten times longer than any you might find in a Norwich department store. At Oxford Circus the experience of a jam-packed rush hour tube was completely alien, especially on a Saturday. And the whole day was spent travelling around without once getting into a car, most unnatural.
Looking up/down for the first time: Norwich may boast the second tallest cathedral spire in the country, but otherwise Norfolk is a county notorious for being flat and horizontal. The tallest tower at Canary Wharf (237m) is more than twice as tall as the highest hill in Norfolk (104m), and it's surrounded by scores of other contour-beating towers. For my visitors, London was looking up. Later we journeyed to the top of the London Eye (135m). Looking down revealed a capital city that appeared to spread as far as the horizon in all directions. London is all people with specks of green, whereas Norfolk is all green with specks of people. And yes, they do all look like ants.
Landmarks for the first time: It was hard to explain to a four year-old that this is Trafalgar Square and it's famous, when all it looks like is a big space with lions, pigeons and a welcoming fountain. Similarly the seven year-old was more interested in pulling the label off a bottle of water as we sailed down the Thames than in watching 1000 years of history pass by. As for the nine year-old, the house where the Queen lives lost out big time in the popularity stakes to the big toyshop down Regent Street. But hopefully, once back in Norfolk (where sorry, there are no world-famous landmarks) it should one day register that "I've seen that Tower Bridge" or "I've heard that Big Ben strike twelve".
Reality TV for the first time: "And, on your right, David Blaine in a box." The highlight of our sightseeing trip down the Thames was the opportunity to see a man suspended from a crane, previously glimpsed only on satellite TV back home. The Tower of London slipped by unnoticed as everyone gawped at the scene on the opposite bank. Beneath the bearded hermit stood an ocean of onlookers, a biblical crowd gathered to watch their Messiah, although somehow more 'Life of Brian' than 'Jesus of Nazareth". Our captain sounded the boat's horn and we all waved. David waved back. "He must be so sick of this boat," remarked our tour guide. Just so long as we were contributing to the charlatan's mental torture, I was pleased.
London for the first time: So, now my nephews and niece have seen where their uncle lives and works, and they have a mental picture of what London looks and feels like. Possibly quite mind-expanding, and I suspect they'll be back again soon. But I expect that back in school on Monday morning their answer to the question 'What was the best thing you did at the weekend?' will still be "David Blaine waved at me".
Monday, September 08, 2003
Case study
Londoners have fallen in love with a new pet. These special travelling companions go everywhere with their mistresses and masters, always following very close behind. They come in all shapes and sizes, they stand alert by one's side when not required and they have to be carried on escalators. Some haven't been trained as well as others and so get under the feet of passers by. They're distinctly territorial, and some owners couldn't imagine life without them. I am of course talking about wheelie suitcases.
These instruments of the devil are everywhere across the capital, usually directly in front of you. I'm sure they weren't around in any great numbers a year ago, but now all of a sudden it appears that everybody has to have one. Stand in any tube station or on any street corner, particularly on a Friday or a Monday, and one of these beasts will come lumbering into view within seconds. I blame the new Argos catalogue, or whatever posh department store it is that travelling people visit in order to buy trendy new luggage. Many of those people manoeuvring wheelie suitcases around town have clearly never passed a driving test in their lives. They cut you up, they decelerate without warning, they fail to signal before swerving out in front of you, they block the path of oncoming traffic and they collide with your nearside without ever stopping to give you the address of their insurance company. I suppose we should be grateful that a wheelie suitcase over the toes is better than a rucksack in the teeth, but in my view this invasion must be stopped, and stopped soon.
London is full of people trying to get somewhere else. Locals love to escape the capital for a weekend break, having seemingly packed the entire contents of their house in their suitcase. Tourists stumble out of airports laden with heavy baggage, then head off on an epic cross-country expedition to find their hotel. Everybody then struggles onto public transport, heaving bags across the entire width of an escalator, dumping a pile of suitcases just inside the door of a train, or forming a wall of canvas across a busy street. London was not designed with oversized baggage in mind.
On first glance the wheelie suitcase appears the perfect solution to a difficult problem. Heavy weights can be transported with ease, so it is possible to pack the kitchen sink after all. Unfortunately some people appear to have decided to do exactly that, carrying twice as much as they might otherwise have done, purely because they now have wheels. At the other end of the spectrum a disturbing number of people seem to have bought what I can only describe as mobile-handbags, tiny containers on long handles which quite frankly could and should be carried instead. Wimps, the lot of you.
And there's worse. Imagine if you will a typical traveller carrying a suitcase. The traditional suitcase is carried by the side, adding only width. The new wheelie suitcase trails behind, adding depth instead. The surface area of ground covered is therefore noticeably greater with a wheelie suitcase than it is with the traditional handheld model. Even worse, this surface area increases the shorter the traveller pulling the suitcase along. If you're six-foot-something then the handle of the wheelie suitcase points pretty much straight up, which isn't too bad. However if you're four-foot-nothing then the handle is much closer to the ground, so the wheels lag a lot further behind. It's a simple matter of trigonometry. Put bluntly, a group of tiny tourists can clog up a tube station in seconds. And often do.
I fear that the battle against the advance of the wheelie suitcase may already be lost. There's certainly no sign yet of the government organising a special terror attack simulation to rid the Underground of these weapons of mass discourtesy. It appears that many people just want their own travelling to be easy, and they don't give a damn that their actions might have negative implications for others. The wheelie suitcase is just a physical manifestation of an inner malaise, obviously. So look, if you really have to have one, please just hold it upright won't you? Or get a taxi.
This is the Night Bus crossing the city,
Thirty minute gaps between, more's the pity.
Taxis for the rich, buses for the poor,
Queueing in a mob, then a rush for the door,
Stumbling upstairs, an unsteady climb:
The traffic lights against her, a snail's pace time.
The stench of kebab and half-cooked burger,
Shovelling chips as the bus crawls further,
Arguments blaze and mobiles bleep,
Drunken passengers fast asleep.
Friday, September 05, 2003
There's tons going on in the capital this month, including...
• David Blaine in a suspended tube(Sept 5 - Oct 19): Starts today, the dullest stunt in the world. Expect regular reports from nearby. Although I can't see what's so special here. Thousands of Londoners spent 44 minutes in a suspended tube last week...
• The Great River Race(Sept 6): 150 boats attempt to get from Richmond to Greenwich without having to pay the Congestion Charge.
• Brick Lane Festival(Sept 7): Who says curry, bagels and pie and mash don't mix?
• Chemical attack on Bank station(Sept 7): Don't worry, it's only an exercise, and the City is pretty much dead on a Sunday anyway. This exercise is to make sure the City is never pretty much dead in the future.
• Totally Covent Garden Festival(Sept 7-14): This'll be the usual bunch of street entertainers spray-painted silver standing around not doing very much and hoping you'll throw them money, I expect.
• Uncle Ken'sThames Festival(Sept 13-14): What would happen if those nice local government people were allowed to devise a weekend of riverside entertainment? Face-painting, folk music, fireworks and a few old boats, of course.
• Greenwich and Canary Wharf Festival(Sept 20-21): Looks like an excuse to promote the opening of the new Jubilee Place shopping centre underneath Heron Quays station to me. How many more of these <insertplacenamehere> festivals can London cope with this month?
• London Open House Weekend(Sept 20-21): Is this fabulous or is this fabulous? Lots of top historic buildings open their doors to the public, just for one weekend a year, and all for free. Last year I was thrilled by Westminster Hall, Portcullis House, the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, the Cabinet Office, the Midland Hotel (St Pancras), the brand new City Hall and the view from the 18th floor of New Zealand House. This year, not sure yet. Any suggestions? (Oh, and the website's crap, I'm afraid, totally unskimmable. You want to go down to your local library and pick up the full 500-building catalogue instead. My local librarian nearly wet herself with excitement yesterday when I asked for a copy.)
Thursday, August 21, 2003
London Flash Mob ##2 - Singing in the rain(click on picture to enlarge)
The sky above Aldwych may have been almost cloudless, but there were a suspicious number of people carrying umbrellas walking the streets in the area earlier this evening. This was the second (official) London flash mob, or at least it was one of them. The organisers had been careful to split us up into at least two different mobs according to starsign and dispersed us around the Embankment. I was in the smaller group, instructed to turn up with an umbrella at one of four pubs off Aldwych by 6:10pm, precisely.
The bar staff in the George IV pub were overwhelmed by brolly-carrying punters. Us potential mobsters stood around waiting to get served, gulped down our drinks and waited for further instructions. At 6:10pm precisely one of the organisers entered the pub and handed out the tiny flyers to everyone carrying an umbrella. On one side, the words to Gene Kelly's classic Singing in the Rain. On the other side was our mission statement. We were to take our umbrellas to the public courtyard of Somerset House by 6:25pm precisely, text someone asking them to ring us at 6:30pm precisely, and click our fingers every (click) time anyone (click) used the letter Y (click).
If you've ever been to Somerset House before (and I have) you'll know that the centre of the courtyard contains 55 water jets which spring from the flagstones. On a hot summer's day it's a damp four year-old's paradise. It's also a lot of fun for a bunch of over 100 twenty-and thirty-somethings armed with umbrellas. At 6:25pm the mobsters from each of the four Aldwych pubs arrived right on time and strode into the middle of the fountains, brollies raised. Just as happened at the last flash mob, everyone suddenly looked at each other as if to say "Are we really doing this? Excellent!" And then we started acting like damp four year-olds.
It soon became apparent that the organisers had omitted one crucial piece of information from their instructions. They hadn't told us what to do when while we were standing in the middle of the fountains. Perhaps it was supposed to be obvious that we should dance round the fountains like famous Hollywood movie stars, but they'd forgotten to tell us that. Eventually one group was brave enough to start singing Singing in the Rain and everyone joined in, but they skipped a chunk of the first verse which sort of threw the rest of us partway through. It still sounded good though.
A number of the mobsters were really enjoying splashing in the water, running through the fountains and getting their suits wet. As the jets shot up into the air sometimes they caught the underside of an umbrella and water shot out across the crowd. Some wished they'd not brought their laptops, videophones and digital cameras with them. Ten minutes we stood there, getting slowly wetter, until at 6:35pm precisely it was time to leave. As we vanished out into the Strand the three security guards stood and watched the departing crowds, scratching their heads and mulling over what it was they might just have witnessed.
There was one last finale, a "Bonus Mob", as our group were then directed to pop up onto nearby Waterloo Bridge and face upstream. There in the distance across the Thames was tonight's other flash mob, spread out across the new Hungerford pedestrian bridge, doing goodness knows what. (Ahh, report here, photos here) We waved. They may have waved back, it was hard to tell. And then, trainers still squelching, it was time for everyone to disperse.
I think Flash Mob ##2 worked rather better than Flash Mob ##1 a fortnight ago, not least because we were in a public place and not apparently hounded by the press. Perhaps the organisers should give up on their fixation with mobile phones and letters of the alphabet, because I have yet to see those ideas work in practice. Just standing in the middle of a fountain with an umbrella was quite surreal enough for most participants. And the chances of there being a successful Flash Mob ##3? Odds on, I reckon.
Here are ten fascinating facts about the board game of Monopoly.
• Monopoly evolved from The Landlord's Game, the invention of Maryland resident Lizzie Magie. Her game was intended to teach players about the property ownership system, the object being 'to obtain as much wealth or money as possible'. Original 1904 patent here, rules here and board here.
• The game of Monopoly was first patented by Charles Darrow in 1933. Folklore tells how, jobless and destitute, he thought up the rules one night in a flash of inspiration, hand-painted the board on a tablecloth and used old trinkets around the house for game pieces. Rather more likely is that Charles already worked for Parker Brothers and merely nicked the idea from homemade versions of Lizzie's original game. Conspiracy theories abound.
• Darrow, who was from Pennsylvania, based his version of Monopoly on the properties of Atlantic City, New Jersey. This supposedly reminded him of happy family holidays he had spent there before the Great Depression. Or else he stole the idea again. The street names in the American version of the game are still based on Atlantic City, from Mediterranean Avenue ($60) right round to Boardwalk ($400).
• Monopoly remains the best-selling board game in the world, licensed or sold in 80 countries and produced in 26 languages. Over 200 million games have been sold worldwide, containing more than five billion little green houses.
• The London version of the game was licensed to Waddingtons in 1935. Managing Director Victor Watson and his secretary Marjorie made a special trip from Leeds to London to decide which streets in the capital would be used on the UK board. They concentrated on the West End, with only the light blues located to the north and the cheap old browns to the east. The story of the London board is well told in the book Do Not Pass Go by Tim Moore, a capital travelogue and one of last year's bestsellers.
• Each UK Monopoly set comes with 20 £500 notes (orange), 20 £100 notes (beige), 30 £50 notes (green), 50 £20 notes (blue), 40 £10 notes (yellow), 40 £5 notes (pink) and 40 £1 notes (white). Total amount of money per game = £15,140.
• There are 16 Chance cards, ten of which move you elsewhere, two of which give you money and three of which take money away. There are 16 Community Chest cards, nine of which give you money, four of which take money away and two of which move you elsewhere. Each pack contains one legendary Get out of Jail free card.
• The most landed-on square in Monopoly is the jail, whether you're banged up or just visiting. The best cards in the game to own are the stations, which players tend to land on roughly one in every ten throws. And the best properties to own are the orange set, including good old Bow Street (or St James Place, to American readers). Orange earns the highest rate of return because it lies, on average, exactly one dice throw further round the board than the jail. All the statistics you could ever want here, here, here and here (in the Strategy Wizard in the Tips and Tricks section).
• As for me, I can't ever remember winning a game of Monopoly. Or finishing one for that matter.
Sunday, August 10, 2003
Heatwatch • So, today really has been the hottest day ever recorded in the UK, with temperatures nudging 38°C at Heathrow.
• It's the first time ever that the temperature in the UK has reached 100°F, and bookies face a six-figure payout.
• Highest temperature of the day was 38.1°C at Gravesend, a full degree higher than the previous record.
• Britain's previous record temperature of 37.1°C was recorded 13 years and one week ago in Cheltenham.
• For anyone with an anorakky interest in these figures, the Met Office provides meteorological nirvana here.
• Temperature in London: 7am 22°C; 10am 29°C; 1pm 36°C; peak 37.9°C; 4pm 37°C; 7pm 30°C; 10pm 26°C.
Thursday, August 07, 2003
London Flash Mob ##1(click on picture to enlarge)
The first London Flash Mob took place this evening at the Sofas-UK showroom in Tottenham Street, off Tottenham Court Road. Over 200 people turned up, very suddenly. To say that the shop assistant was taken unawares would be an understatement - the shop was closed because he'd locked up ready to go home early. It's normally very quiet round here, you see. Not tonight. Here's the story of what happened (and don't worry, he was persuaded to unlock the door and let us in eventually, although he may have wished he hadn't...)
6pm onwards: Everyone assembled, gradually, at one of three designated pubs near Goodge Street tube station. Being a Pisces I was directed towards the Rising Sun in Tottenham Court Road, which appeared to be unnaturally full for that time of the evening. Rather a lot of, how can I put it, people who probably use computers at work, but not as unphotogenic as that might sound. Buy drink, look casual, wait.
6:17pm: Our top secret instructions were written on tiny pieces of paper left on top of the fruit machine. This was bad news for anybody under 5 foot 4, but we coped. Only now did we learn that our intended destination was factory showroom Sofas-UK, just up the road, where we were to assemble at 6:30 (precisely) and gaze in awe and wonder at the assembled soft furnishings, muttering the words "Oh wow, what a sofa". There were some other instructions about texting a friend at 6:33 (precisely), and not using the letter 'O' while the flash mob was underway, but they seemed somehow secondary. At 6:40 (precisely) the mob was to disperse as quickly as it had appeared. Magic.
6:27pm: Watches synchronised, we left the pub and walked up to nearby Tottenham Street. It still wouldn't have been obvious to any of the passers-by that something big was afoot.
6:30pm: Three groups converged on the sofa shop, just opposite Heal's. Everybody looked at each other as if to say 'blimey, it worked then', then started taking pictures of the crowd (maybe that's why they're called flash mobs) and then turned to look at the sofa shop. It was shut. This rather wrecked all the instructions we'd been given, so we all stood around in the street, smiled a lot at each other, took some more photos and waited.
6:32pm: By this point the solitary shop assistant appeared to have woken up to the fact that he had customers, lots of them, and unlocked the door. The crowd surged inside, in that very British way of just nudging forward very slowly and politely. A TV crew were one of the first through the door, preparing to film the scene inside. The organisers had bungled their choice of venue, not because it had been shut (because it was supposed to be late-opening on Thursdays) but because the showroom only had one narrow door. And it takes a very long time to get more than 200 people inside a showroom, especially when the space just inside the door is already teeming with leatherette. And so we queued.
6:38pm: At last I reached the door to the showroom and managed to squeeze inside. The place was absolutely packed, not least with people taking even more photos to record the event. All thoughts of 'texting a friend' or 'ignoring the letter O' had disappeared, as everyone just stood there and soaked in the sheer incredulity of it all. Some sat on the sofas, some played up for the cameras, but most just smiled. The shop assistant stood by the door, astonished at the number of people taking an sudden interest in his products and at those still trying to enter behind me. "You wait til my boss hears about this," he said. Given the obvious press presence in that shop, I suspect his boss will be hearing a lot more about it, and soon.
6:40pm: There was a spontaneous round of applause, and then it was time for the flash mob to disperse, suddenly. Again, this was nigh impossible given the large crowd now inside the shop and the Knebworth-esque bottleneck by the single exit. Having been one of the last in I managed to be one of the first out, but as I looked behind me it appeared as if many of the mobsters were there for the duration. I followed instructions and left the area immediately, with just a 'goodbye' to a stranger (as requested in Rule 7), but I wonder how many people were still there long after the event was due to finish. And I wonder if Flash Mob ##2, planned for August 22nd, will manage to maintain the momentum of this first instant event, without becoming too popular, too crowded and too overground.
Friday, August 01, 2003
This month is local history month on diamond geezer. I shall be your tour guide round some of the famous locations within 5, then 10, then 15 minutes walk of my house. You can expect chemical poisoning, Votes For Women, organised crime, Murder She Wrote, poverty, Dickens, Shakespeare and Gandhi, amongst others. Some of it should even be interesting. And for those of you who don't live around here (which would be all of you) don't worry, because there'll be all the usual stuff this month as well.
See the whole of local history month on one page by clicking on the sign below...
NDJust before four this afternoon three ageing sisters appeared in the sky over London. Office workers stood respectfully on rooftops, pointing eastward as the first Concorde appeared. A second silver speck grew slowly in size to the south, and finally a third joined the procession across the capital. Nose down, landing gear down, engines blaring, the three planes cast their shadow across the city for the last time. I watched all three pass by, heading gracefully into the sun, towards Heathrow and into retirement. And then they were gone, and only a lump in the throat remained.
The Weather Project
I visited the Tate Modern yesterday for an early view of this new meteorological phenomenon. An enormous yellow sun now beams out from the eastern wall of the Turbine Hall. Clouds of fine mist hang in the air and the ceiling above is completely covered by mirrors, doubling the height of the sky. The whole place feels like a cathedral to the great sun god, which must be why half the population of London has come along to worship. Down on the floor a congregation has gathered, most gawping in awe and wonder at the great solar disc, others lying prostrate to gaze upon their distant reflection in the mirrors above.
Tube watch (5) This week terminates here
Famous places within 15 minutes walk of my house
There are a number of canals in East London, and Bow is completely surrounded by them. To the West the Regents Canal, to the North the Hertford Canal, to the East the Lee Navigation and to the south the Limehouse Cut. All quite pretty in their own way, and a fine six mile circular walk is possible along the various towpaths.
The River Lea has been an important navigable waterway into London for over 500 years, and during the 18th century the navigation was much improved with new cuts and locks. Barges travelling between the Lea and the Regents Canal were forced to negotiate the great loop of the River Thames round the Isle of Dogs, so two short canals were built later to link the two together and reduce journey times. The Hertford Canal runs along the bottom of Victoria Park and has one of the most picturesque flights of locks in the capital, but was never a commercial success. The Limehouse Cut is an arrow-straight channel direct from Bow Locks to Limehouse, less picturesque and eerily quiet. British Waterways installed the UK's first floating towpath here under the Blackwall Tunnel Approach Road earlier this summer, complete with kingfisher styling and green lights in the footpath.
Lloyd's of London: It's that dramatic futuristic building in the middle of the City, the one with twelve lifts on the outside, designed by Richard Rogers and opened in 1986. Us lucky visitors got to see their collection of old Lord Nelson ephemera, the enormous underwriting room full of hundreds of tiny desks where all the trading happens, the eleven-storey glass-windowed atrium, and the Lutine Bell that rings to bring news of lost ships (one ring bad, two rings good). Nice escalators too. Favourite fact: Edward Lloyd was never an underwriter, he merely owned Lloyd's coffee shop where the first maritime underwriters used to meet. Starbucks clearly still have a long way to go.
Banqueting House: Not just another non-descript building down Whitehall, but an ornate Jacobean dining hall with huge painted ceiling. Many sumptuous banquests for nobles and heads of state have been held in this magnificent room. However, this weekend they'd set up a trestle table in one corner selling tea, Kit Kats, slices of swiss roll and Mr Kipling's cherry bakewells. A far cry from the building's glorious past. Favourite fact: The hall was built for King James I in 1622, but became the site of his execution in 1649.
Channel 4 Television: It's always a lottery on Open House weekend which tour guide you get. Some know their stuff inside out, while others have clearly never set foot in the property before. Here at Channel 4's HQ I got to the front of the queue just in time to miss the really well-informed guide, ending up instead with the token volunteer merely present to make up the numbers. She took us up in the scenic lift, which had nice views over, er, part of London. She told us that the C4 building had two sort of arms. She took us along the curvy walkway on the third floor behind the glass front bit, held up by the joint things. And we went out onto the terrace at the back, made of some kind of wood I think. Favourite fact: there's an ironing board in the Channel 4 boardroom, complete with iron, inbetween the flipchart and the widescreen TV.
26 Whitehall: This morning you'd have found me queuing for an hour trying to gain entry to a tall posh building down Whitehall, otherwise known as the Ripley Building, otherwise known as the offices of the Deputy Prime Minister. This impressive Georgian building has been home to the Admiralty for nearly 300 years, and top navy men still meet to make important decisions in the wood-panelled Board Room on the first floor. John Prescott's ministerial team are now based in the building, although we were assured that the solitary Jaguar parked in the courtyard this morning wasn't his. Security was high (we're currently on 'Black Special', if you're interested) and we had to surrender our mobile phones and cameras on the way in. Favourite fact: Lord Nelson's body rested here on the night before his funeral, having been stored in a barrel of alcohol during the long voyage home from the battle of Trafalgar.
Limehouse Accumulator Tower: If you've ever travelled on the DLR from Limehouse to Westferry, you may have seen a fifty-foot octagonal brick tower right beside the railway tracks. It's not an old signal box, it's actually pioneering Victorian technology - a tower that once provided hydraulic power for raising heavy cargo at Regent's Canal dock. The tower has recently been restored as a viewing platform, although recent housing developments at Limehouse Basin have reduced the view somewhat. Sadly the tower is only open very occasionally which is a great shame because, on a sunny day like today, the view from the top is great. Favourite fact: To reach the top requires climbing two spiral staircases, the first inside the tower and the second inside the chimney.
The life of Riley
If you've ever been to Somerset House before (and I have) you'll know that the centre of the courtyard contains 55 water jets which spring from the flagstones. On a hot summer's day it's a damp four year-old's paradise. It's also a lot of fun for a bunch of over 100 twenty-and thirty-somethings armed with umbrellas. At 6:25pm the mobsters from each of the four Aldwych pubs arrived right on time and strode into the middle of the fountains, brollies raised. Just as happened at the last flash mob, everyone suddenly looked at each other as if to say "Are we really doing this? Excellent!" And then we started acting like damp four year-olds.
Heatwatch
This month is local history month on diamond geezer. I shall be your tour guide round some of the famous locations within 5, then 10, then 15 minutes walk of my house. You can expect chemical poisoning, Votes For Women, organised crime, Murder She Wrote, poverty, Dickens, Shakespeare and Gandhi, amongst others. Some of it should even be interesting. And for those of you who don't live around here (which would be all of you) don't worry, because there'll be all the usual stuff this month as well.
