Last month I asked you to tell me from where is the best view in London? You came up with lots of answers, including up the top of the Eye, Hampstead Heath, the top deck of a Routemaster, and Alexandra Palace. But two particular spots came out on top - Blackheath Point and Richmond Hill. So I went along to see what all the fuss was about.
Click on the picture above to see the full view from 'the Point' - an outcrop on the edge of Blackheath, overlooking the centre of London. Immediately below lie the streets of Greenwich, clinging to the side of this unlikely hill, a stack of neat terraces and bland council flats. And in the distance... well, ok, my camera isn't very good at picking out the detail, but there's a wheel and a gherkin and all the other London sights you might expect. The Point itself is a small strip of parkland, half grass and half mud, well off the tourist trail, used by well off locals for exercising their dogs. I'd have enjoyed the view more if there hadn't been two labradors frisking in the excrement behind me, but the view in front of me was unexpectedly impressive. Thanks for pointing it out.
Across the other side of South London lies Richmond Park, a huge expanse of green untroubled by public transport. In one corner of the park is Richmond Hill, from the top of which can be seen two celebrated views. The most well-known of these is to the west across cow-strewn meadows towards the meandering Thames. It's rather pretty, and the local population clearly enjoy hobbling along the terraces atop the hill to see it, but I've seen better.
Less well-known, but more interesting, is the view to the east. Central London may be a long way away, and the skyscrapers may look more like distant matchsticks, but the astonishing thing is that the City is visible at all. My photo here was taken from the top of King Henry's Mound, a prehistoric burial mound set on the highest point of Richmond Hill. There's a framed gap in the bushes here, looking out directly down an avenue cut through the nearby woods. You won't be able see it in the photo, and it's not easy with the human eye either, but perfectly aligned at the end of that avenue lies St Paul's Cathedral. Precisely 10 miles away.
This is one of London's three designated linear views, protected by planning regulations. You can't build a tall building anywhere on the line of sight between Richmond Hill and St Paul's, it's the law. The other two protected views, by the way, are from Westminster Pier to St Paul's, and from the Mall to Buckingham Palace (though I'm not quite sure what anyone would build on that last one).
There are also six protected London panoramas, one of which is the view from Blackheath Point. Similar planning rules apply. The other five include Alexandra Palace and HampsteadHeath (which shows what good taste you all had), plus Primrose Hill, Kenwood and Greenwich Park. All covered by the London Designated View Framework, which you can find in Mayor Ken's latest umpteen-page London Plan (check page 37 of this enormous pdf for a great map showing all the protected lines of sight). Good to know that you, and your ancestors, will still be able to enjoy these views for years to come.
Today sees the launch of Ken Livingstone's latest cultural extravaganza - the Get London Reading campaign. A bunch of famous authors are gathering at Canary Wharf at noon to plug read from their latest novels, and later in the week there'll be some evening events involving librarians. Sounds thrilling? But hey, there's also a surprisingly detailed website full of 'books about London' (tons of them) which is well worth a look. Discover authors and books based in each London borough, and find out what other Londoners are reading. Great listfuls of fine books about London, and just in time to add to my birthday wishlist (cheap plug - see last Friday for full details).
They've identified 12 books for London to give particular prominence to - on posters, in campaigns and on giveaway bookmarks. Not a bad selection either. I've read the following four of them so far, how about you?
• London Orbital by Iain Sinclair: A walk round the M25 on the Eve of the Millennium. Beautifully written, but disappointingly inconsquential.
• London by Edward Rutherfurd: Lengthy saga follows London families from the Roman invasion to the present day. History-lite.
• Do Not Pass Go by Tim Moore: Street-based London travelogue looks at the real-life Monopoly board. Wish I'd thought of doing that.
• High Fidelity by Nick Hornby: A music-obsessed listaholic with one failed relationship behind him. Hmm, who does that remind me of?
But that's only four. Here's another eight London books I'd add to the list to make 12. Four tube-related, four not. Please click away.
• Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman: A dark twisted underworld living in the tubes beneath London. And one of those one-off classic TV series they never repeat, sob.
• 253 by Geoff Ryman: Unique set of character portraits on board a crash-bound Bakerloo line train. Started as a webpage, so you can go read it right now...
• Tunnel Vision by Keith Lowe: Bloke attempts to visit all London's tube stations the day before his wedding. You can guess how it finishes.
• King Solomon's Carpet by Barbara Vine (aka Ruth Rendell): An odd thriller with a bunch of misfit characters all linked through the tube.
• Spanky by Christopher Fowler: I could have picked any of his books, most of which are set in nightmarish London, but this modern Faust just swings it. Fab.
• Demonized by Christopher Fowler: OK, just one more. This is his new collection of horror stories, and I'm still reading my signed copy. See, I bought something this weekend. Good it is too.
• The Long Firm by Jake Arnott: 60s East End gangland beautifully evoked, and currently being filmed by the BBC. Can't wait.
• London Compendium by Ed Glinert: After all that fiction, the best stories about London are still the non-fiction ones. Arranged here by postcode. Dip in and enjoy.
Saturday, February 21, 2004
Twelve tube-tastic links • Animals on the Underground: Yes, I know everyone else has beaten me to this one but, cor, aren't they good?
• the 3D tube map: Ditto this site, but Corey's tubes are indeed rather special.
• 3D tube station diagrams: See how all those tunnels, passageways and escalators link together.
• Stop Motion Studies: 20 looped flash movies of people on the tube, sitting, standing, twitching, moving, smiling, snarling, existing.
• Platform for art: The tube as an art gallery, retrospective. My favourite's the David Shrigley Billboard Commission.
• Estimated time of arrival: Now you can find out where your train is without standing on a platform. But only on the Bakerloo at present.
• Free Posters: While stocks last. Three to choose from - I went for the Zandra Rhodes creation. Bet they've run out.
• Londonstation: Photographs of various London tube stations. Better than it sounds.
• The Transport Forum: Join the tube drivers talking about the tube, or just lurk in the background and wallow in techie anorakness.
• tube magazine: A seasonal in-house online magazine, this month featuring Art Deco architecture on the Northern and Piccadilly lines.
• One Stop Map Shop: Want to buy, or use, a tube map? Bargain at £290. I think not.
• Tourist advice: from the very wonderful Geofftech. He may be almost as cynical as I am.
It's a year today since Ken Livingstone risked his political future and started charging vehicles a fiver to enter central London. As you'll remember, drivers rebelled, gridlock ensued, businesses collapsed and Ken was forced to resign. Except no, it didn't actually turn out like that did it? The streets cleared, traffic speeds increased, drivers acquiesced and Ken is on track to be re-elected Mayor by a thumping majority. Even the Evening Standard seems to have stopped complaining about the Congestion Charge, which has to be a measure of the degree of its success. Of course, it's not all perfect. Some small businesses have suffered, not enough money has been raised to fund improved public transport, and the company who collect the charge are an incompetentmonolith. But, overall, an unexpected success.
The Congestion Charge isn't what puts people off driving into Central London. Central London is what puts people off driving into Central London. You have to be mad, or an addicted petrolhead (or both) to want to drive into the middle of this city. One-way systems, bus lanes, traffic wardens, speed cameras, narrow streets, jaywalking pedestrians, limited parking, red routes, endless traffic lights and, above all, other lunatic drivers - driving in London is an absolute nightmare. It amazes me that anyone would want to even own a car here. There's a bloody good public transport network available - not perfect, not complete, and not fast, but still perfectly adequate. I know rich people would still rather sit in their gas-guzzling 4x4s to collect little Jasmine from ballet, but little Jasmine would survive sitting next to a pensioner on the tube, honest.
So, where next for the Congestion Charge? Onward and outward. Ken's eyeing up extending the zone to Kensington, to Heathrow and maybe to Canary Wharf, and other UK cities are equally interested. But Central London could still do better. I'd like to propose a fifty pound charge for the following: • Driving any single journey of less than a mile.
• Entering an IKEA car park during daylight hours.
• Riding the state coach in a ceremonial procession.
• Parking at bus stops (unless you're a bus, of course).
• Travelling on a giant coach with fifty other foreign tourists.
• Cycling through a red light, because 'red lights are only for cars'.
• Owning a huge jeep designed originally only for Welsh mountainsides.
• Venturing south of the river (most taxis already charge extra for this).
• Running a marathon through the streets of Docklands dressed as a cow.
• Being driven by your own chauffeur (get used to having a bus driver instead).
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Spitalfields
I've discovered where London's Observer readers go on Sundays. They go to Spitalfields market. I bet they do Borough Market on Saturdays to satisfy their organic foodie cravings, but on Sundays it's off to Spitalfields for the capital's biggest pseudo-arty-ethno-leftie car boot sale.
Spitalfields market is a huge covered hall in the East End, hidden between Liverpool Street and Brick Lane. Originally the area was called 'Spittle Field', a poor-quality grazing area for cattle. There's been a market here since the 17th century, although it probably didn't sell healing crystals and hemp lollies back then. In Victorian times the market was frequented by prostitutes, and two of Jack The Ripper's victims were murdered in neighbouring streets. At the turn of the century a fine iron and glass roof was built to protect traders from inclement weather. The fruit and vegetable market relocated to Leyton in 1991, and the present Sunday market then moved in.
You get no sense of the size of the building from outside, but behind the surrounding frontage lies a space the size of a small aircraft hangar. Every Sunday the hall is packed out by stallholders selling alternative wares. No nasty antiques and crockery, just amateur arty crafty stuff, stripy knitwear, old records, mystic tat and objets d'art. I was particularly disturbed to see one stall trying to sell quartz-like rocks as 'natural crystal deodorant', and even more disturbed to spot someone actually buying some. One corner of the market contains a large food court, serving up veggie vegan noodly-type snacks to noodly-type people. Spitalfields feels like a market for young adults who've outgrown Camden, but aren't capitalist enough to want to go to Portobello instead.
But Spitalfields market is now under serious threat from its new owners. Half of the original building was demolished a year ago so that yet another City office block can be built on the site. The other half, the half in which the Sunday market still takes place, is scheduled for internal redevelopment. Ballymore Properties Ltd want to build various glass blocklike structures inside, taking the market upmarket and cutting the number of stalls by nearly a half. It's a future, but it's not a future that the stallholders want, nor that the existing shoppers will support. They've banded together to organise a vocal protest group called SMUT (Smithfield Market Under Threat) - website here. Good luck to them. London contains quite enough anodyne modern retail malls. Spitalfields may not be my kind of market, but it deserves to survive, and to flourish.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Change at Bow Road... They finally, finally, made a start on renovatingBow Road tube station yesterday. Well, they dumped four blue portakabins outside on the pavement, even if nothing seems to have happened inside yet (see photo). This is Day One of London Underground's PPP-funded station update programme, which just goes to show how dull history in the making is. Starting on the first of next month they'll be closing Bow Road station early each night and working passenger-free between 10pm and 6am. That's closing early daily until at least the end of September. Great. Every time I find myself staggering home after closing time this spring or summer I shall have to get off at Walford East instead. It had better be worth it.
(Oh, and great website showing old photos of disused stations here, including the other Bow Road. Love it.) (via Casino Avenue)
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
In the Limelight
I was invited to a swanky party in town last night. The London News Review is launching in print next month and everyone who bought a copy of the pre-launch issue also got an invite to last night's knees-up. How exciting could that be? Perhaps more exciting than the pre-launch issue of the magazine anyway. They've promised that issue 1 will be better.
The party was held at what used to be the Limelight club, a renovated church down Shaftesbury Avenue. Last time I was there Daphne and Celeste were performing, so this had to be an improvement. The Limelight has recently been reborn as yet another bar in the Walkabout chain, all Australian-themed (as if there isn't enough Australia on the telly and in blogworld at the moment). The LNR team had taken over the bar on an otherwise dead Monday and were hoping to pack the place out with 500 movers, shakers and general technorati. Success.
I went along in the hope of meeting some interesting people. The organisers even promised that some MPs would be present (and maybe those four slightly odd-looking suited blokes were, but I'm not sure). On the way in we were offered the choice of ten coloured ribbons to wear, so I opted for the orange one ("weblogs can be fun, ask me how"). This would have been a very successful idea were it not for the fact that the club was lit by a bright red light, shining down from the dome above, so I could have been wearing yellow (Liberal Democrat), white (disappointed by Hutton) or red (dog-killer) for all anybody knew. Nobody asked, anyway.
I hoped that there might be at least someone there that I knew, and there was. There was Dave Gorman. That's the famous one of the 54. He seemed to be enjoying the evening, even if the general public weren't leaving him (and his elfin girlfriend) alone very much of the time. The general public were also very busy talking to each other. My latent Aspergers kicked in and I stood back and watched the other 499 people having quite a good time. Ah well, at least there were free nibbles. On my way back to the tube afterwards I passed the smiling crowds coming out of the The Streets gig at the Astoria. Hmm, maybe I should have gone there instead - geezers need excitement.
I'm just back from deepest Hertfordshire, my two days of 'team-building' complete. Thankfully what we got to do was quite useful - no trying to support bricks on towers constructed from newspaper for us - although other groups of delegates on site weren't quite so lucky. I've suffered from both overeating and overheating, so it's good to have escaped the corporate hotel lifestyle and to be back home again.
The old mansion at Theobald's Park looked delightful in the snow, looking out across the glistening Lea Valley, surrounded by deer-filled woodland. The original Theobalds was the favourite hunting lodge of James I, but fell into ruins after the king died here in 1625. The main part of the present building dates from the 18th century and has since been owned by an MP (1763), a rich London brewer (1820), the Admiral of the Fleet (1910), the Metropolitan Police riding school (1939), a local secondary school (1951), and finally a conference centre (1995). The latest owners have restored some of the old house to gilt-edged wood-panelled splendour, but I don't think that flipcharts, vending machines and Sky TV were part of the original Georgian decoration.
And yes, down at the end of the drive, within sight of the 'Lady Meux restaurant', lies Temple Bar (see yesterday). Or, at least, what's left of Temple Bar, which isn't much. Just a small section of the east wall remains, surrounded by towering scaffolding that gives some idea of the scale of the original structure. A handful of workmen were hiding in the portakabins for warmth, occasionally popping out to dismantle a little more of the remaining wall. Some of the large stones that made up the arch were lying around on pallets, covered by snow, ready to be transported back to London. It won't be long before there's nothing left here but a muddy clearing in the woods, and conference delegates will have to make do with a stroll in the Italian Garden, or just another dip in the spa bath.
You'll be able to see Temple Bar reborn later this year, back in London at Paternoster Square beside St Paul's Cathedral. Latest news here. This ancient gate to the City of London certainly deserves to be seen by more than a few corporate freeloaders, squirrels and delivery lorries, but I'm sure one corner of Hertfordshire will be sad to see it go.
Work are sending me away, out of snow-splattered London, for two days. It's only for one night, but I can't say I'm delighted to be uprooted from my spiritual home merely for the sake of 'team-building'. I think that was the excuse they gave anyway. Still, things could be much worse. They're sticking us in a country-manor-cum-conference-centre within half a mile of the M25, which is barely outside London at all. And, lurking in the grounds, forgotten for decades, lies one of the City's most famous landmarks...
Temple Bar used to be located where the Strand meets Fleet Street, one of the ancient gateways into the City of London, named after the local Inns of Court. The first bar was just a chain across the road, the second a wooden structure with a prison on top, and the third (and final) a magnificent arch built from Portland stone. And yes, like everything else in this Fire-ravaged part of London it was built by Sir Christopher Wren - did this man ever rest? In the 18th century the heads of traitors were displayed on iron spikes across the top of the arch. Sorry, this is all sounding like a repeat of last week, isn't it?
By the late 19th century there was just one tiny problem - the gateways through the arch were rather narrow and therefore unsuited to ever-increasing amounts of road traffic. In 1878 the Corporation of London dismantled the arch, brick by brick, and hid it away in a yard off Farringdon Road. A pedestal with a large gold dragon was erected in its place, and the old bar was forgotten.
Salvation came from an unlikely source. Lady Meux was a banjo-playing barmaid who had married into high society but wanted desperately to prove her respectability. She had the bricks of Temple Bar shipped up to Hertfordshire on horse-drawn trolleys and reassembled in the grounds of her country house - Theobald'sPark. Garden parties were held to celebrate its arrival, and such famous people as Edward VII and Winston Churchill were entertained in the arch's upper chamber. For a brief season, Temple Bar was back in the limelight. It didn't last. Before long the monument was lying fenced off and forgotten in overgrown woodland, slowly crumbling away.
Until recently, that is. Suddenly Temple Bar is on its way back to the City, not to its original location but to a new site in the shadow of St Paul's Cathedral. This is Paternoster Square(above left), a new piazza of questionable architectural merit, yet another swathe of office space and designer shops. The developers want to add a certain historical respectability to their new project, just like Lady Meux, so they're having Temple Bar shipped all the way back from Hertfordshire. Workmen started dismantling the arch at Theobalds last October and it appears I'm visiting only just in time before they take the last few bricks down for good. Meanwhile the scaffolding is going up in Paternoster Square (right) and Temple Bar should be reassembled here by the end of the year.
An excellent website charts the progress of the Temple Bar project, with daily photos of the stonemasons at work and all the latest news (they found a time capsule inside one brick a couple of weeks ago).
So, I may be out of general circulation until late tomorrow, but at least I'll have another slice of lost London to keep me company. Hopefully I'll have time to sneak out from the planned team-building activities to take a look at the team doing the unbuilding. Temple Bar, poor thing, has been trapped out of town for over a century. I'm only away for the one night, but I'm pleased we'll both be back home soon.
Sunday, January 18, 2004
Oranges and Lemons
Oranges and lemons
say the bells of St Clements
You owe me five farthings
say the bells of St Martins
When will you pay me?
say the bells of Old Bailey
When I grow rich
say the bells of Shoreditch
When will that be?
I do not know
says the great bell at Bow
Here comes a candle to light you to bed
Here comes a chopper to chop off your head
The nursery rhyme "Oranges and lemons" has been sung by children in London for hundreds of years, probably since the 17th century. Several London churches are mentioned in the rhyme, and the original tune mimicked the peals of their bells. There have been many different versions of the rhyme over the years, including different words and a number of different churches, but the most common version features just six. I've been out and about in the City and the East End tracking down these six churches and some of the background to the rhyme, and now I'm ready to report back. You'll find the full story of the rhyme on its own page, here. Hurry over there and have a read - chop chop.
London's bid for the 2012 Olympic and Paralympic Games has been launched. As expected, 500 acres of industrial wasteland in the Lower Lea Valley in East London are at the heart of the proposals. An Olympic stadium, village, aquatic centre and velodrome will be appearing on my run-down inner-city doorstep, fingers crossed. The Olympic bid, however, was launched five miles away at the Royal Opera House in the heart of swanky Covent Garden. A few local multi-ethnic schoolchildren were transplanted to wave ribbons and play judo in an inspirational manner, but the bid launch emphasised London's historic and cultural heritage instead. A wide range of additional tourist-friendly locations are being proposed for the Games, presumably so that visiting IOC members don't have to spend all their time standing on bleak building sites in hard hats and wellies.
So, if the Olympics come to London, where will the other events be held? Beach Volleyball(Horse Guards Parade): Hordes of topless women shivering in light July drizzle, ogled by nearby civil servants.
Gymnastics(Millennium Dome): After 12 years of expensive nothingness, this white elephant will finally find a use. For a week.
Equestrian(Greenwich Park): Lots of horses and horsey women churning up the lawns beneath the Royal Observatory.
Triathlon(Hyde Park): The only safe place in London to go cycling, because there are no passing buses to fall underneath.
Archery(Lord's): Because cricket isn't an Olympic sport. Just as well, we've probably got better medal chances in archery.
Fencing(Alexandra Palace): Hopefully that's fencing the sport, not the sort of fencing that signifies unfinished building works.
Rowing(EtonCollege): This posh school is about as far away from East London as you can get, both in distance and in wealth.
Baseball(Regent's Park): Nobody over here will go watch, but at least all the American visitors' hotels will be right nextdoor.
Indoor Sports(ExCel Centre): International Boxing, Weightlifting and Taekwondo Exhibition opens July 2012.
Football(Wembley Stadium): Assuming they've finished rebuilding it by then. The one event we invented but never bother entering.
Tennis(Wimbledon): Another event we invented but should never bother entering. We're only good at selling the strawberries.
Sailing(Weymouth): Racing yachts down the Thames would be silly, and Southend just isn't glamorous, so ScaryDuckland it is.
Shooting(Bisley): Not East London? That's odd, because I'd have thought the streets of Hackney were already ideal for shooting.
Marathon(Champs Elysée): Alas, the 2012 Olympics will probably go to Paris or somewhere else instead. Pity, it won't be quite the same watching everything on television.
Friday, January 09, 2004
Local transport news (2) - Bow Road tube station
Last July I ranted about my local tube station being an under-resourced ruin, with not a penny spent on it for years. Until today, that is. Tube operating company Metronet is launching a multi-million pound five year programme to renovate more than 150 Underground stations, all part of the government's controversial public-private funded infrastructure programme. And, what do you know, the very first station to be renovated will be Bow Road, starting today. About time too. They haven't told us local passengers yet - I only uncovered the news in Metronet's in-house journal (check pdf pages 6-7 and 28-30) - but renovation is now imminent. Apparently Bow Road station is a Grade II listed building, and we have serious problems with 'water ingress behind a brick retaining wall'. That would explain the acres of peeling paint I get to stare at each morning. Hopefully not for too much longer though.
I wonder if workmen will finally get round to updating the sign outside the station, the one that says Bow Road is on the "District and Metropolitan lines". Bow Road's not been on the Metropolitan line since 1990 when the Hammersmith and City line took over the section east of Liverpool Street. But, I read, there are plans to change that back again. Tube bosses want Metropolitan line trains to run from northwest London right through to Barking again, hopefully by 2011. Meanwhile the Hammersmith and City and Circle lines will be sort-of-merged to provide what's being called a 'T-Cup' service. Trains will run from Hammersmith to Edgware Road, then continue all the way round what's now the Circle line before terminating at Edgware Road second time around. You heard it here first. I heard it here first. And no, I don't believe it'll happen either.
Meanwhile there are already moves afoot to upgrade all the District line trains that run through Bow Road. The 20-year old rolling stock is to be renovated, one train at a time, with the first new interiors due to come on track just after Easter. All upgraded by 2008, apparently. You can see what the new interiors will look like here. Lime-green cattle truck chic, I fear.
Local transport news (1) - on the buses (for all my local readers - and hi to Richard from over the road)
Route 8: I never tire of watching the big red Routemaster buses chugging away as they set off from Bow Church heading for central London. Alas, they won't be chugging for much longer. Routemasters may be historic (50 years old this year, in fact) but these classic buses are also chronic polluters and so they're all being replaced. It's been confirmed that Route 8 is being converted to normal dull double deckers on June 26th (the new buses will look like this, only with an 8 on the front). Expect me to be out with my camera on June 25th. [geeklink 1] [geeklink 2]
Route 25: Mayor Ken has taken delivery of three special hydrogen-powered zero-emission fuel cell buses. London's first green buses will be red, and they'll be running on Route 25 starting this month. The buses run on hydrogen gas, contained in six cylinders on the bus roof, and emit only pure water vapour. Apparently we're quite safe - hydrogen-powered vehicles don't catch fire and kill everyone on board any more. More information on these futuristic buses here and here. The golden age of steam is returning to Bow Road. Just not for very long...
Route 25(again): The 25 is one of the most heavily-used routes in the capital - always busy and often seriously overcrowded. Transport for London have come up with what they hope will be a solution to this problem - bendy buses. On June 26th (it's that date again) all the double-deckers on Route 25 will be replaced by single-decker double-length buses, with less seats but more standing room. Great big lumbering articulated buses will be attempting to manoeuvre their way from Oxford Circus to Ilford, and I must say I have my doubts they'll manage. Expect me to be out with my camera on June 26th. (Bendy buses are also coming to routes 149 (April 24th), 73 (May 1st), 12 (July 31st) and 207 (November 13th). Peoplereally aren't happy about bendy 73s). [geeklink 1] [geeklink 2] [geeklink 3]
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
is Channel 4's latest week-long attempt to attract viewers. It's a bedtime reality show that's not quite Big Brother, a 'scientific experiment' presided over by Professor Dermot O'Leary. Twelve human lab rats are attempting to go without sleep for a week in an attempt to win lots of money. Hopefully none of the twelve are taking part merely to become famous, because the rest of the media appear to be yawning almost as much as the contestants. Even the Sun newspaper appears disinterested, which is odd given that both the Sun and Shattered are both produced nextdoor to each other in the same street in East London.
Pennington Street is a dark oppressive road in Wapping, deep in the heart of the old London docks. A high 19th century brick wall runs for a quarter of a mile along most of one side of the road, blocking out the light. And behind this sheer wall lies
Rupert Murdoch's huge News International printing plant, dominating the entire length of the street. It's very big, it's very long, it's very modern, and it looks very out of place. Lorries sweep out of the building down futuristic tubes and journos patronise the nearby wine bars. Somewhere deep inside, presumably, tomorrow's Page 3 girl is being touched up.
The rest of Pennington Street is lined by tall ex-warehouses. One of these, at the eastern end of the street, was built in 1814 for the storage of imported tobacco. Local manufacturers turned these brown leaves into cigars, pipe tobacco, cigarettes and snuff for the gentlemen of 19th century London. The building is still most impressive, from the inside if not from the outside, blessed with bricklined vaults, great timber roof trusses and cast iron fittings. In 1992 the warehouse was renovated and re-opened as the exclusive Tobacco Dockshopping centre, complete with two full-size pirate ships. Unfortunately the shops were too far from the tourist trail, and too pricey for the locals, so Tobacco Dock soon closed down. The site has been vacant for years, but is still occasionally used as a venue for swish celeb parties (PR events for the launches of Harry Potter, Moulin Rouge and Lord of the Rings, for example).
But, this week, Tobacco Dock has awoken from its slumber to host the filming of Shattered. Or, as I discovered at 6pm yesterday, 'shuttered'. The whole place was locked up, with nothing to be seen but a laminated sign on the gate awaiting the arrival of tonight's studio audience. Despite an advert on a nearby bus stop urging the public to , nobody else was around. My audience of one slipped away into the night. I hope the programme is faring better.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
Three books about London(wot i got for xmas)
London history: London - the Biography (Peter Ackroyd) £12.99
A real epic of a book this, and so good that I got given a second copy this Christmas. It's a history of the capital in 79 non-chronological chapters, with the city's story told theme by theme. Brilliantly readable, Ackroyd intertwines scholarly detail with imaginative description. At just over a kilogram this is a heavyweight book in every way, and highly recommended.
London geography: London Revealed (Julian Shuckburgh) £25
You've probably seen the Millennium Map online, that complete aerial record of the UK used by variousmapping websites. The Queen's a shareholder, you know. This atlas combines their modern overhead photography of the capital with diverse historical and geographical themes. See where Roman London used to be, pick out locations mentioned by Dickens, trace London's lost underground rivers and zoom in on where the Jack the Ripper's murders took place. Perfect for very small coffee tables.
London travelogue: London Orbital (Iain Sinclair) £7.99
On the eve of the Millennium, Iain went for a walk around the M25. Not on the road, you understand, but sort of nearby. And then he came home and wrote about his circuitous journey. Unfortunately he seems to have written more about the walk than the places, but his writing is inventive and beautifully constructed. Plus he spends 8 pages walking through Bow, heading from the Dome up along the river Lea out to the motorway ringroad, so I've got to let him off being a bit of a plodder.
Thursday, January 01, 2004
New Year - Option 2: Stand by the River Thames
I nearly stayed in, but the thought of the Scottish TV Hogmanay special was just too hideous to contemplate. I headed (rather late) to central London, where the streets were full of drunkards and the pavements covered by puddles that definitely weren't rain. By half past eleven the vast expanse of Trafalgar Square was already full. The police had been busy blocking off most of the surrounding streets, leaving the rest of us to wander around blindly like lab rats in a giant maze. Eventually I found a path through to the Embankment, where Big Ben and the London Eye came into view.
The best vantage point for the night's firework display was Hungerford Bridge, but the police had already sealed that off and stolen the entire view for themselves. The crowds below the bridge were particularly thick, but I was still determined to push on upriver much closer to Westminster. London's legendary Hare Krishna procession came to my aid, clearing a joyful path through the crowds, and I was able to pass through in the slipstream.
Midnight approached, and I was perfectly located opposite the London Eye and within striking distance of Big Ben as the first chimes rang out. Unfortunately the less intelligent amongst the crowd took this as the signal that the New Year had begun, whereas in fact there were still twenty seconds to go until the first proper bong. A great cheer went up, drowning out the rest of the chimes and bongs, leaving us all merely celebrating approximately 2004-ish. Until Big Ben gets a second hand, the exact arrival of the New Year will be easier to spot in the Orkneys on the telly rather than in London from 200 metres away. Right on cue it started to drizzle.
All eyes then turned to the Eye, its pods lit up and starting to pulsate. We had a couple of minutes to wait before the first fireworks shot up from the river, and then the Eye itself erupted with coloured flame. And then some more sparkles, and mild whooshes, and fiery explosions, and a short sky-filling finale. The crowds waited in vain for an encore, not quite believing it was time to go home already. Mayor Ken was right that this was only going to be a brief display, no more than three minutes, but definitely wrong that it would look better on the television (I've rewound the video, and those Scottish TV producers cut the event to shreds).
Those revellers who'd brought their own champagne stood around and toasted 2004 in plastic beakers. Some who were rather more merry, or perhaps just friendly, addressed every passer-by with New Year greetings. The rest of us slowly streamed away, either back to rejoin the West End crowds or off on a long-distance trek to the nearest still-open tube station. It was raining more persistently by the time I finally got home, and my feet ached, but I was glad I'd made the effort to see in 2004 in real life. The year can only get better though.
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
10 ways to see out New Year's Eve
1) Stand in Trafalgar Square Every year tens of thousands of New Year revellers are drawn mysteriously to Trafalgar Square as midnight approaches. They stand around beside the boarded-up fountains, just out of earshot of Big Ben, and nothing happens. Even in 2003, with the area rejuvenated as a semi-pedestrianised 'World Square', nothing will happen. The Mayor may have staged all sorts of diverse events here during the rest of the year but tonight he admits "The only thing to do in Trafalgar Square will be to get cold and wet". Cheers Ken.
2) Stand by the River Thames (dg's choice 1999/2000)
Westminster Bridge, that's the place to be. Right beneath Big Ben chiming twelve, and a grandstand view of Mayor Ken's real Hogmanay treat - a riverside firework display. Except that he'd rather you weren't here either. This brief display beside the London Eye is meant for global viewing, not for real Londoners standing out in the cold, so the police would much prefer you to stay home and watch your council tax going up in smoke on the telly instead. Cheers Ken. Let's hope it's more impressive than the 'River of Fire' four years ago.
3) Stand in a Circle Line train Ken's got one thing right this New Year - the tube will be running all through the night. This means you can attend any of the non-events in Central London and still get home without having to cram into a drunken nightbus. Instead you can allow the police to shoehorn you slowly onto an overcrowded platform waiting for a train that may not arrive until next year. Just make sure you're not under the Embankment at midnight rather than on it.
4) Stand inside the Dome Is it really a century since the eyes of the worldnation taxpayer were trained upon this upturned bowl by the Thames? Yesit is. Who could forget all those unfortunate celebrities stuck queueing at Stratford station, or the Queen trying to look excited as she shook hands with Tony Blair's vanishing credibility? I must admit I still rather like the Dome, sitting there spikes-to-the-sky at the tip of a desolate peninsula, doomed to an afterlife as the world's only billion pound bus station. But I have no plans to be there tonight for the last gasp of Winter Wonderland - an underpatronised overpriced fairground. No change there then.
5) Stand in a pub Any other night of the year you can stand in a pub for free. On New Year's Eve you have to pay £10 for the privilege, surrounded by a bunch of losers from your local neighbourhood eating mini sausage rolls from a luke-warm buffet. At midnight some greasy no-hoper will take advantage of the national thirty-second groping amnesty and plant a wet kiss on your unwelcoming cheek. The pub should be paying you.
6) Stand in a club (dg's choice 2001/02)
If you thought the pub was expensive, wait until you see what your favourite club is charging. All that ready cash is presumably essential to pay for DJ overtime and the twelve o'clock balloon drop. Try to spot the clubbers who've perfectly timed their pill-popping for a midnight high, and don't forget to feel sorry for the crowds still patiently queueing outside as the techno version of Auld Lang Syne bleeps out onto the pavement.
7) Stand around at a mate's party Accepting an invite to a New Year party always sounds like a good idea, particularly if you're getting desperate for at least some social contact this evening. Unfortunately the party will be attended by people you don't know who've only brought cheap booze and then insist on playing the naff compilation CD they've brought with them so that the TV's off when midnight comes round and you miss the chimes of Big Ben altogether, forcing everyone to raise an anti-climactic glass of sparkling wine five minutes late. Cheers.
8) Get out of London altogether (dg's choice 1998/99)
Hide away in a country cottage on a New Year break and you can miss all that unnecessary hubbub in the capital. There again, you do have to sleep under floral duvets, shiver with coin-in-the-slot Economy 7 heating and discover that all the tourist attractions in the neighbourhood have shut down until Easter.
9) Get out of the country altogether (dg's choice 2002/03)
Fly away, say, 6000 miles to the west and you'll find yourself in a totally different time zone. This means that midnight GMT will pass unnoticed by the locals somewhere mid-afternoon, and then you'll end up celebrating New Year somewhere around what's really breakfast time. It may be unnatural, but the firework display will be considerably better.
10) Sit at home on your sofa (dg's choice 2000/01)
So, looks like it's just a can of lager and that dire Scottish Hogmanay TV special for company. Try to spot which of the featured celebrities has died or been involved in a terrible accident since the show was recorded back in November. Then text all your friends pretending to be somewhere else rather more glamorous, whilst bemoaning the fact that nobody appears to have sent you any messages in return. But, smile, because you're not cold, you're not wet, you're not on a train, you're not surrounded by drunkards and you're not fifty pounds poorer. Happy New Year!
Monday, December 22, 2003
On the 3rd day before Christmas... the arrival of snow is anticipated
How fantastic it would be to wake up on Christmas morning, pull back the curtains and see the landscape covered by a thick layer of snow. All those nasty concrete outbuildings carefully blanketed, the footprints of robins scattered randomly across the lawn and Aled Jones frolicking in the lane with a couple of snowballs. Picture postcard perfect. We love snow at Christmas because it's the one day of the year most of us don't have to travel anywhere. We're already where we want need to be, the entire public transport network has already been shut down for the day and we couldn't drive safely anywhere after that pre-lunch sherry anyway. Any other day of the year and we'd all be cursing the nightmarish collapse all all local services but, on December 25th, 's no problem.
Will there be a White Christmas this year? Well, no, sorry, there won't. Even this morning, when snow was actually forecast, the streets of London remain resolutely grey. Alas, a snowy Christmas Day in the UK is a rare event. Even rarer is a 'proper' white Christmas, rather than the 'a flake of sleet will do' travesty of a definition that the bookies now use. December's always been a bit early in the winter for snow (January and February are rather more likely), and global warming threatens to make the entire 21st century a bit late in the millennium for snow too. White Christmases were rather more common here during the 'Little Ice Age', back when the Thames used to regularly freeze over, but the last London Frost fair was held as long ago as 1814. In the future any light sprinkling of white across the capital is far more likely to be the result of terrorist-induced nuclear fallout.
Only ten of the last Christmases in London have been white. That'd be 1916 (sleet), 1927 (snow, falling and lying), 1938 (sleet, but 15cm of snow lying on the ground), 1956 (snow), 1964 (snow), 1968 (sleet), 1970 (snow, falling and lying), 1976 (snow), 1996 (sleet) and 1999 (sleet). You may also remember a white 1981, but that year doesn't officially count because no snow fell on Christmas Day itself. Me, I remember 1970 well enough, which may be just as well because if I were any older I probably wouldn't be able to remember a proper white Christmas at all. Alas, today's children have probably missed out on seeing one for good.
On the 7th day before Christmas... here's the Underground Christmas story
1 One day, while Mary was still slepping, the Angel of the Lord visited her. Mary fell to her Neasden looked up. The Angel told her she Woodford have a baby who'd be Wapping important.
2 Mary-lebone and husband Joseph had to go Upney to Bethlehem, also known as Park Royal David's White City. Mary on a BlackHorse Rode because she was Leyton in her pregnancy.
3 There was no Morden room anywhere down the Old Street, but one innkeeper Maida Valeable the stable round the back. Baby Jesus was Holborn there surrounded by Barking animals.
4 High in the Hillingdons, abiding in the Southfields, there were Shepherds Bush watching over their flocks by night. And lo the Angel of the Lord came upon them, so they got off their Arsenal and walked the Mile End into Bethlehem to see the baby.
5 There came three Blackfriars from Dagenham East, following a star. They brought gifts of Golders Green, Farringdon and Moorgate. On the way they stopped off at a Mansion House to meet Kings Cross Herod.
6 Herod couldn't StanMore of this. It was enough to Turnham Green with anger. "Kill, Burn the children!" he cried. But baby Jesus and his parents had already escaped Northwood, far beyond Zone 6.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
On the 9th day before Christmas... the shops are full of people buying rubbish
There comes a day whe you finally have to grit your teeth, knuckle down and head to the shops to buy stuff for Christmas. Yesterday I succumbed, even though it meant squandering 4% of my annual leave entitlement merely to avoid the weekend crush. And so I spent the afternoon trawling the West End, trying desperately to find some presents that other people might find borderline acceptable. I no doubt failed, but other people do always seem to prefer being bought something to being bought nothing, even if that something is rubbish. And there's certainly plenty of rubbish around to be bought, all stuff that you'd never ever buy for yourself, and you'd never dare buy for anyone else unless it was Christmas.
Oxford Street was full of of other people who weren't working, all seeking that elusive perfect Christmas gift. I pity the someone somewhere who's going to wake up to a fake Rolex on the 25th, or the DVD of some film that ITV's screening on Boxing Day, or one of those tiny 'gift' books with three words on each of fifty pages. Shoppers bustled by, some with the full set of designer carrier bags, others with only a bemused frown. Stores prayed that some of the passers-by would stop, come inside and part with large amounts of money. A couple of policemen mopped up a pool of blood from the road where an inattentive shopper had wandered into the path of some unexpected traffic. In Berwick Street market the sprouts were almost as big as the fake glass baubles. Christmas approached, inexorably, just 125 shopping hours to go.
A brand new Tesco Metro store had just opened, part way down Dean Street on the way into Soho (see eye-catching poster adverts here). This was launch day so management were standing outside offering free mince pies and red wine to passers by in a vain attempt to make the store look busy. A row of bored till operators sat at the checkouts with nothing to do but gawp (they'd be more than welcome at my local Tesco which appears to be five times the size but with half the staff). I had a '£3 off champagne' coupon thrust into my hand (the chilled bubbly section is noticeably larger than the area selling milk), but declined to use it. Wouldn't have been much use to the closest residents either, those who live in the local shop doorways.
But yes, in the end I did manage to buy my family some presents that hopefully aren't rubbish. I hope they've managed the same, because I'll need at least one present to read/play/devour on Christmas afternoon to get me safely through the third screening of my niece's new Barbie Swan Lake video. And apologies to the rest of the family - while I was in Tesco I did buy Mum that CD. All rubbish is relative, it seems.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
Cup Routes: the capital celebrates Bus O2: Marble Arch - Trafalgar Square
Location: London central
Length of journey: 1½ miles, 80 minutes
Forgive me if I report on just one more bus journey. The service on this particular route is appalling - passengers crawl through central London at about one mile an hour. The space available on the bus is wholly insufficient - travellers are left waiting ten-deep on the pavement. The fare to board the bus is out of most people's reach - one gold piece. Conditions on the bus are inhumane - there's no roof and passengers are forced to stand in freezing conditions throughout the journey. And the frequency on this route is abysmal - you wait 37 years and then three buses turn up at once. But yesterday this shambolic service was the most popular bus route in the country.
You'll remember England won the Rugby World Cup a fortnight ago by outperforming a handful of serious countries, some comedy also-rans and a few South Sea islands. It's not often we defeat the rest of the world at a sport we invented, so how better to celebrate than going for a short bus ride one cold grey midweek lunchtime. Three quarters of a million people turned out all the same, thronging the streets of the West End and blocking off all the shops. A trio of open-topped buses set off from Marble Arch at noon, the squad in the first, management in the second and media in the third. I thought I'd catch up with the procession as it passed through Piccadilly Circus.
Every space along the route was packed with people - office workers, beery rugger types, cheering pensioners and schoolchildren who really should have been elsewhere. It was impossible to tell when the bus was coming, the curved buildings of Regent Street blocking off the view and four helicopters drowning out any approaching cheers. Eventually the cheers drowned out the helicopters and the first bus edged into sight. The crowd went wild (well, wild-ish) and waved their free Evening Standard flags and Daily Mail placards. A mass of cameras, camcorders and mobile phones were raised into the air, simultaneously capturing the view and blocking it. The team breathed in the adulation and waved the shiny gold cup in the air. I think they smiled, but they were too small to see.
As the bus disappeared behind Eros, the crowd started to ebb away. Many of us poured down the sidestreets to intercept the bus again further down Haymarket. A bit of judicious squeezing saw me much closer to the action, ready for Jonny Wilkinson's second coming. I was now surrounded by ecstatic rugby disciples, a fire in their belly and a song in their heart (Swing Low Sweet Chariot, naturally, over and over and over). This time I saw the cup and the players close up, and even recognised someofthem. Nice suits, lads. Team coach Clive Woodward waved enthusiastically at me - me, the hardened rugby refusenik from school. I suspect he was waving at anybody by this point. Light showers of shredded paper fell from a few office windows, and the parade passed by again.
Trafalgar Square was absolutely packed - a bit like it used to be with pigeons, but with people instead. Had this been an anti-war protest, the police would no doubt have tear-gassed everyone by now. It was impossible for us latecomers to squeeze in far enough to see either of the giant TV screens, let alone the approaching buses. Loudspeakers broadcast a BBC commentary across the crowds, so at least we knew what we were missing. I left before the unctuous speeches began and headed off down the Mall, a good half hour ahead of the team, and against the continuing flow of of human traffic. I can't get excited about rugby, even if we are quite good at it. But, good try lads.
Monday, December 01, 2003
Cube Routes
It's time for diamond geezer to spend a week exploring London, by bus.
London's a huge place, far bigger then the central zone most tourists see. I thought I'd get out and view some more of the capital from the best vantage point of all, the top deck of a London bus. And then I'd come back and write about what I saw. (Trust me, you can do this sort of thing when you're single. Nobody looks at you with a withering stare when you walk out of the house clutching your bus pass, as if to say "But you can't do that, it's pointless... and anyway, we have a bathroom that needs redecorating.")
Seven days, seven different buses. But which seven, there being more than 500 to choose from? I decided to follow a mathematical pattern (did you really think otherwise?) and selected all the buses whose route numbers were cube numbers. Cube routes. (You remember cube numbers... 1x1x1, 2x2x2 and so on. They're one of those bits of maths you learnt at school that are of absolutely no use whatsoever when you're older. Until today of course.)
So, seven routes, sort of picked at random, and covering the capital. I made all seven bus journeys during the last month, I took my camera with me, and this map shows where I went. Outer and inner, suburbia and urbia, north and south, east and west, upmarket and downmarket, rich and poor, day and night, but all 'London'. Hold very tight please, the first bus is about to depart.
Famous places within 15 minutes walk of my house Number 2012 - The Olympic Stadiumii
An Olympic Stadium is a large circular-ish object, requiring space for a 400 metre running track, seating for the nations of the world and sufficient space round the edge for the selling of hotdogs and novelty fluorescent headgear. So, where to put it? It appears that the authorities have merely worked out how large a circle they need, found a map of the local area and hunted down the one location where that circle would fit without overlapping one of the many river channels round here. And the location they've found is a godforsaken industrial estate halfway up a boy-racer lane just north of Pudding Mill Lane DLR station. Middle of nowhere. This is Marshgate Lane, a 100% non-residential slice of East London, one solitary road cutting across the flood plain of the River Lea. If anywhere in London deserves to be regenerated, it's this unloved heap of warehouses, incinerators and industrial units. Up to 350 companies will be forced to relocate if the Olympics come to Stratford, but an Olympic flame would suit the area far better than the present smell of burning waste, fats and cooking oils.
I got myself a decent map and walked up Marshgate Lane to find the exact location of the centre of the stadium for myself. It's just past Knobs Hill Road, right opposite Parkes Galvanizing Ltd, where a couple of small roads run off the lane onto the Marshgate Trading Estate. Here you'll find a company that hires skips, a giant nondescript warehouse, the odd big family business, a company that prepares caviar and smoked salmon and, right in the middle, a Mercedes Service Centre. This is where the javelins will land, where 3000 perfectly-choreographed local schoolchildren will tapdance through the opening ceremony and where all the medals will be presented. I was disturbed to see three Mercedes flags flying over the exact spot - it looks like the Germans have staked their claim for the top of the medal table already.
This weekend, as a genuine local resident, I've also attended one of the public consultation events for the Olympic masterplan. The Lower Lea Valley regeneration team have been setting up their display boards in a variety of community-type institutions, asking people what they think about the plans and the legacy to be left behind for the local area. It turned out that most of the display is available on the internet anyway, but there were some nice extras including some fantastically detailed maps of the minutiae of regeneration and a 3D model to bring the plans to life (pictured left). The organising staff seemed keen to welcome us all, but even keener to get at least one person present to fill in one of their less-than-thrilling questionnaires. I would have spoken to somebody official about the plans, except that one of them was being persistently harangued by a pessimist explaining how the Dome was a white elephant and the whole bid thing would undoubtedly be a financial disaster, while most of the rest of the staff were too busy trying to set up a Powerpoint presentation. At least it was encouraging to see my community's future being taken seriously for once. Whether the Olympics arrive here in 2012 or not, local regeneration is on track.
Thursday, November 13, 2003
Famous places within 15 minutes walk of my house Number 2012 - The Olympic Stadiumi
OK, so this may look like the same old photograph of the run-down Big Breakfast house that I've shown you before, and indeed it is, but what's new is that London's Olympic Stadium is now planned to be built less than a javelin's throw away on the other side of that row of trees. It's all bloody exciting, for us locals at least. This redevelopment depends on London actually being selected by the IOC as the winning host city for the 2012 Games, of course, but detailed new proposals announced this week bring that dream a little closer to reality. And much closer to my house.
Plans for London's Olympic bid have been a little sketchy up until now, with plans for a stadium sort of near Hackney Wick, upriver from Stratford-ish, in that run-down bit of East London probably. This week the plans are revealed in their full geographical splendour, and the proposed site for the stadium shifts half a mile south from (just) Hackney into (nearly) Bow, much nearer to major transport links. The new site is currently bleak industrial land, surrounded on three sides by the Bow Back Rivers, which apparently makes the area pretty secure from international terrorist attack. You can view a fine and detailed map showing the Olympic regeneration of the Lower Lea Valley here, whether you're an international terrorist or not.
To your right is another photograph showing the heart of the proposed Olympic zone. This is the Greenway, a footpath slicing through East London atop the legendary Northern Outfall Sewer. Today a tree-lined haven for local wildlife, tomorrow the focal point of global consciousness (maybe - terms and conditions apply). Just to the right of the photo will be the warm-up tracks where the world's finest athletes will prepare for their few seconds in the spotlight. And just to the left, opening ceremonies, Olympic flames, 100m finals, track and field, drug scandals, medal ceremonies, marathon finishes and 100% total history. Bloody hard to picture it all at the moment, though.
The eighty-thousand-seater stadium will be at the heart of a compact area full of top Olympic facilities. Three indoor sports arenas will replace the Hackney Greyhound Stadium, and there'll also be a new all-weather tennis complex, hockey complex and velodrome. A huge aquatic centre (complete with Olympic-sized swimming pool, naturally) will be constructed close to Stratford town centre - this no matter whether the Olympic bid is successful or not. And the athletes' village will be built just to the north of the new Stratford International Eurostar station, leaving a legacy of 17000 homes for local residents after the Games have gone. Let's hope they're sports fans, otherwise all these fantastic state-of-the-art facilities will go stale pretty fast afterwards.
This miserable bunch of warehouses close to the Bow Flyover is scheduled to become home to the entire world's media throughout that extra-special Olympic fortnight. There'll be a huge International Broadcast Centre located here plus an only-slightly-less-huge Press Centre, both less than 5 minutes walk from my house. To think, I might catch Sue Barker nibbling a McChicken sandwich in the drive-thru by the roundabout, or bump into the Bolivian equivalent of Gary Lineker buying deodorant in the nearby 24 hour Tesco. I'll have the perfect Grandstand view.
To find out more about all these proposals, complete with more pretty maps, take a look at the official website for London's 2012 bid, or click through the masterplan for the regeneration of the Lower Lea valley. Alas, all of these fine five-ringed dreams remain at the planning stage at the moment, and many of the proposals may never come to pass. But there seems to be an unstoppable political will to make sure that something happens round here in East London, even if the Olympics don't. So, I'd like to thank all of you out there in the rest of the country for your imminent generosity in pouring millions of pounds of taxpayers money into my community. We'll put on a good show for you, honest. Just give us a sporting chance.
I've recommended two magazines this year. The first was Word magazine, a monthly mix of music, books, gadgets, entertainment and culture. Started off really well back in February, but I've recently been rather disappointed and disillusioned by Word's evolution into a music, music, DVD and music magazine. Pity. And the second magazine was Smoke.
Smoke is a kind of London fanzine, first published in June, successful enough to be out again this month, and scheduled to be quarterly in the future. Joy. Black and white with a tasteful blue cover, Smoke peers out at the capital from an obtuse angle. It drips quirkiness, design and detail, and it demands to be read, owned and loved.
This month in Smoke... the desolation of Shoreditch station; Christopher Fowler observes the squirrels of Regent's Park (and the rest of London's Nature Wonderland); Trocadero hell; London's campest statue in Temple Place; bus route of the month is the number 360; spotlight on Putney; the inconsistency of the Monopoly board; prodigy houses; a London Shipping Forecast (Bow Church to Island Gardens, wind easterly 4 or 5, visibility moderate or good); dancing with poodles... Oh go on, read some proper snippets here. And then go buy your own copy for just £1.70 here. Quality.
Saturday, November 01, 2003
c2c 4£1
There's a special offer on the trains all weekend, meaning that every journey on c2c(the London-Southend line) costs one quid. So I went exploring. For a start, I've never ever been to Fenchurch Street station before. This must be central London's most obscure manline station, tucked away off the beaten track in a forgotten corner of the City, and is virtually deserted at weekends. It's also the only mainline terminus without a tube station, so goodness knows how it got selected as one of the four 'famous' London stations on a Monopoly board. Fenchurch Street station, which is 150 years old next year, is a small Victorian island in a financial sea of concrete and glass. It's built on a viaduct above a three-storey warehouse and below a stack of new offices, and is everything that the commuters of Southend deserve.
I could have gone to Southend, but the first train out of the station was going somewhere far less glamorous - Grays. Final Destination. My train hurtled past the giant Ford works at Dagenham, across the bleak Rainham marshes, past docks, containers and refineries, on into grimmest Thurrock. Alongside this underused line the new high speed Channel Tunnel Rail link is being built, now just a grey pathway of concrete edging and portaloos. In three years time international Eurostar trains will speed this way, hopefully with the windowblinds down. Grays itself appeared to be a cheap shopping centre surrounded by featureless redbrick estates. Proud shaven-headed dads stood outside Iceland watching their offspring perform in the local talent contest hosted by the non-entity who came third in Fame Academy. Fat grans in light blue towelling buzzed past on mobility scooters, hoping to snap up some fake bargain jewellery on one of the market stalls. I stayed in the town no longer than 19 minutes.
Just four minutes up the line lies another very different shopping centre - Lakeside. Here are all the designer stores that Grays lacks, selling dreams to the upwardly mobile of Essex. Almost nobody arrives here by train, the sun glinting off the windscreens massing in the IKEA car park. The whole retail cathedral was packed with happy shoppers, out spending time spending money. A swarm of designer teenagers swept by on an urgent quest for the latest must-have accessory. Proud shaven-headed dads pushed their offspring around in turbo sports pushchairs, their waddling wives dripping with expensive carrier bags. Only just over 50 shopping days remain before Christmas, but I suspect this lot need little excuse to get out and flash their plastic.
NDAcross the other side of South London lies Richmond Park, a huge expanse of green untroubled by public transport. In one corner of the park is Richmond Hill, from the top of which can be seen two celebrated views. The most well-known of these is to the west across cow-strewn meadows towards the meandering Thames. It's rather pretty, and the local population clearly enjoy hobbling along the terraces atop the hill to see it, but I've seen better.
Get London Reading
Twelve tube-tastic links
De-Congestion
Spitalfields
Change at Bow Road... They finally, finally, made a start on renovating Bow Road tube station yesterday. Well, they dumped four blue portakabins outside on the pavement, even if nothing seems to have happened inside yet (see photo). This is Day One of London Underground's PPP-funded station update programme, which just goes to show how dull history in the making is. Starting on the first of next month they'll be closing Bow Road station early each night and working passenger-free between 10pm and 6am. That's closing early daily until at least the end of September. Great. Every time I find myself staggering home after closing time this spring or summer I shall have to get off at Walford East instead. It had better be worth it.
The old mansion at Theobald's Park looked delightful in the snow, looking out across the glistening Lea Valley, surrounded by deer-filled woodland. The original Theobalds was the favourite hunting lodge of James I, but fell into ruins after the king died here in 1625. The main part of the present building dates from the 18th century and has since been owned by an MP (1763), a rich London brewer (1820), the Admiral of the Fleet (1910), the Metropolitan Police riding school (1939), a local secondary school (1951), and finally a conference centre (1995). The latest owners have restored some of the old house to gilt-edged wood-panelled splendour, but I don't think that flipcharts, vending machines and Sky TV were part of the original Georgian decoration.
And yes, down at the end of the drive, within sight of the 'Lady Meux restaurant', lies Temple Bar (see yesterday). Or, at least, what's left of Temple Bar, which isn't much. Just a small section of the east wall remains, surrounded by towering scaffolding that gives some idea of the scale of the original structure. A handful of workmen were hiding in the portakabins for warmth, occasionally popping out to dismantle a little more of the remaining wall. Some of the large stones that made up the arch were lying around on pallets, covered by snow, ready to be transported back to London. It won't be long before there's nothing left here but a muddy clearing in the woods, and conference delegates will have to make do with a stroll in the Italian Garden, or just another dip in the spa bath.
Temple Bar used to be located where the Strand meets Fleet Street, one of the ancient gateways into the City of London, named after the local Inns of Court. The first bar was just a chain across the road, the second a wooden structure with a prison on top, and the third (and final) a magnificent arch built from Portland stone. And yes, like everything else in this Fire-ravaged part of London it was built by Sir Christopher Wren - did this man ever rest? In the 18th century the heads of traitors were displayed on iron spikes across the top of the arch. Sorry, this is all sounding like a repeat of last week, isn't it?
Until recently, that is. Suddenly Temple Bar is on its way back to the City, not to its original location but to a new site in the shadow of St Paul's Cathedral. This is Paternoster Square (above left), a new piazza of questionable architectural merit, yet another swathe of office space and designer shops. The developers want to add a certain historical respectability to their new project, just like Lady Meux, so they're having Temple Bar shipped all the way back from Hertfordshire. Workmen started dismantling the arch at Theobalds last October and it appears I'm visiting only just in time before they take the last few bricks down for good. Meanwhile the scaffolding is going up in Paternoster Square (right) and Temple Bar should be reassembled here by the end of the year.
Oranges and Lemons
Leap for London
Last July I ranted about my local tube station being an under-resourced ruin, with not a penny spent on it for years. Until today, that is. Tube operating company Metronet is launching a multi-million pound five year programme to renovate more than 150 Underground stations, all part of the government's controversial public-private funded infrastructure programme. And, what do you know, the very first station to be renovated will be Bow Road, starting today. About time too. They haven't told us local passengers yet - I only uncovered the news in Metronet's in-house journal (check pdf pages 6-7 and 28-30) - but renovation is now imminent. Apparently Bow Road station is a Grade II listed building, and we have serious problems with 'water ingress behind a brick retaining wall'. That would explain the acres of peeling paint I get to stare at each morning. Hopefully not for too much longer though.
Route 8: I never tire of watching the big red Routemaster buses chugging away as they set off from Bow Church heading for central London. Alas, they won't be chugging for much longer. Routemasters may be historic (50 years old this year, in fact) but these classic buses are also chronic polluters and so they're all being replaced. It's been confirmed that Route 8 is being converted to normal dull double deckers on June 26th (the new buses will look like this, only with an 8 on the front). Expect me to be out with my camera on June 25th. [geeklink 1] [geeklink 2]
is Channel 4's latest week-long attempt to attract viewers. It's a bedtime reality show that's not quite Big Brother, a 'scientific experiment' presided over by Professor Dermot O'Leary. Twelve human lab rats are attempting to go without sleep for a week in an attempt to win lots of money. Hopefully none of the twelve are taking part merely to become famous, because the rest of the media appear to be yawning almost as much as the contestants. Even the Sun newspaper appears disinterested, which is odd given that both the Sun and Shattered are both produced nextdoor to each other in the same street in East London.
The rest of Pennington Street is lined by tall ex-warehouses. One of these, at the eastern end of the street, was built in 1814 for the storage of imported tobacco. Local manufacturers turned these brown leaves into cigars, pipe tobacco, cigarettes and snuff for the gentlemen of 19th century London. The building is still most impressive, from the inside if not from the outside, blessed with bricklined vaults, great timber roof trusses and cast iron fittings. In 1992 the warehouse was renovated and re-opened as the exclusive Tobacco Dock shopping centre, complete with two full-size pirate ships. Unfortunately the shops were too far from the tourist trail, and too pricey for the locals, so Tobacco Dock soon closed down. The site has been vacant for years, but is still occasionally used as a venue for swish celeb parties (PR events for the launches of Harry Potter, Moulin Rouge and Lord of the Rings, for example).
, nobody else was around. My audience of one slipped away into the night. I hope the programme is faring better.
All eyes then turned to the Eye, its pods lit up and starting to pulsate. We had a couple of minutes to wait before the first fireworks shot up from the river, and then the Eye itself erupted with coloured flame. And then some more sparkles, and mild whooshes, and fiery explosions, and a short sky-filling finale. The crowds waited in vain for an encore, not quite believing it was time to go home already. Mayor Ken was right that this was only going to be a brief display, no more than three minutes, but definitely wrong that it would look better on the television (I've rewound the video, and those Scottish TV producers cut the event to shreds).
1) Stand in Trafalgar Square
4) Stand inside the Dome
9) Get out of the country altogether (dg's choice 2002/03)
On the 3rd day before Christmas...
Cup Routes: the capital celebrates
It's time for diamond geezer to spend a week exploring London, by bus.
Famous places within 15 minutes walk of my house
I got myself a decent map and walked up Marshgate Lane to find the exact location of the centre of the stadium for myself. It's just past Knobs Hill Road, right opposite Parkes Galvanizing Ltd, where a couple of small roads run off the lane onto the Marshgate Trading Estate. Here you'll find a company that hires skips, a giant nondescript warehouse, the odd big family business, a company that prepares caviar and smoked salmon and, right in the middle, a Mercedes Service Centre. This is where the javelins will land, where 3000 perfectly-choreographed local schoolchildren will tapdance through the opening ceremony and where all the medals will be presented. I was disturbed to see three Mercedes flags flying over the exact spot - it looks like the Germans have staked their claim for the top of the medal table already.
This weekend, as a genuine local resident, I've also attended one of the public consultation events for the Olympic masterplan. The Lower Lea Valley regeneration team have been setting up their display boards in a variety of community-type institutions, asking people what they think about the plans and the legacy to be left behind for the local area. It turned out that most of the display is available on the internet anyway, but there were some nice extras including some fantastically detailed maps of the minutiae of regeneration and a 3D model to bring the plans to life (pictured left). The organising staff seemed keen to welcome us all, but even keener to get at least one person present to fill in one of their less-than-thrilling questionnaires. I would have spoken to somebody official about the plans, except that one of them was being persistently harangued by a pessimist explaining how the Dome was a white elephant and the whole bid thing would undoubtedly be a financial disaster, while most of the rest of the staff were too busy trying to set up a Powerpoint presentation. At least it was encouraging to see my community's future being taken seriously for once. Whether the Olympics arrive here in 2012 or not, local regeneration is on track.
OK, so this may look like the same old photograph of the run-down Big Breakfast house that I've shown you before, and indeed it is, but what's new is that London's Olympic Stadium is now planned to be built less than a javelin's throw away on the other side of that row of trees. It's all bloody exciting, for us locals at least. This redevelopment depends on London actually being selected by the IOC as the winning host city for the 2012 Games, of course, but detailed new proposals announced this week bring that dream a little closer to reality. And much closer to my house.
To your right is another photograph showing the heart of the proposed Olympic zone. This is the Greenway, a footpath slicing through East London atop the legendary Northern Outfall Sewer. Today a tree-lined haven for local wildlife, tomorrow the focal point of global consciousness (maybe - terms and conditions apply). Just to the right of the photo will be the warm-up tracks where the world's finest athletes will prepare for their few seconds in the spotlight. And just to the left, opening ceremonies, Olympic flames, 100m finals, track and field, drug scandals, medal ceremonies, marathon finishes and 100% total history. Bloody hard to picture it all at the moment, though.
This miserable bunch of warehouses close to the Bow Flyover is scheduled to become home to the entire world's media throughout that extra-special Olympic fortnight. There'll be a huge International Broadcast Centre located here plus an only-slightly-less-huge Press Centre, both less than 5 minutes walk from my house. To think, I might catch Sue Barker nibbling a McChicken sandwich in the drive-thru by the roundabout, or bump into the Bolivian equivalent of Gary Lineker buying deodorant in the nearby 24 hour Tesco. I'll have the perfect Grandstand view.
I've recommended two magazines this year. The first was Word magazine, a monthly mix of music, books, gadgets, entertainment and culture. Started off really well back in February, but I've recently been rather disappointed and disillusioned by Word's evolution into a music, music, DVD and music magazine. Pity. And the second magazine was Smoke.
