As the phoney war before the next election escalates, I'd like to express my disappointment that the next government won't be as left wing as it should have been.
Just look at this.
These are Comrade Starmer's so-called first steps, a limp selection of depressingly weak promises which reads more like an apology than an agenda for change. How would Britain be any different under a Labour government if this depressingly anodyne recipe were implemented in full over a five year period?
It speaks volumes that Starmer chose to launch his mini manifesto in Thurrock, a red wall Tory stronghold in all but name, rather than surrounded by staunch allies in an area that's voted Labour all its life. You only had to look at the shadow ministers sat behind him in their grey suits - not a donkey jacket in sight - to realise that Keir has sucked the very soul out of what used to be a campaigning party.
The upcoming election is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to transform society leftwards and bring equality to all, especially the marginalised and downtrodden. Instead it seems the so-called Labour party is happy to pander to the needs of neo-liberals and mega-corporations with a wishy washy slate of pledges that promises to do nothing to improve the lot of the poorest in this country, except within six marginalised scenarios.
What is the point of waiting fourteen years for government if you fail to implement the most basic of socialist policies and merely continue the rightward drift of the current incumbents?
And what does Deliver economic stability even mean? We should be increasing the higher rate of income tax and introducing a universal wage for all whilst simultaneously ending the scourge of zero hours contracts, but instead all the talk is of woolly themes like fiscal rules and robust institutions, benefiting nobody the Labour Party was originally created to serve. Given the toxic shock an inept Tory Prime Minister delivered in just seven weeks, its financial repercussions still painfully evident, a Conservative defeat is all but baked in. Labour should therefore be promising nothing short of total redistribution of wealth because they'd still undoubtedly win, and if not now, when?
Our health service is itself on the resuscitation table as the Tories seek to privatise this much-loved institution by stealth. And yet all Sir Keir can promise is to Cut NHS waiting times, a target which ought to be taken as read whenever a Labour government comes to power rather than being anything startlingly new. It's patently impossible to trust Shadow Health Secretary Wes Streeting with his modernising views and emphasis on private healthcare solutions, indeed who's to say we won't all end up paying for doctor's appointments on his watch, indeed the health of the nation remains at risk of existential decline if a centrist government takes power.
When it comes to immigration it's time to reverse the populist rhetoric of the Braverman years and embrace the benefits of diversity. It's nobody's priority to Launch a new Border Security Command, that's merely oppression writ large in the face of a human rights tragedy, as you'd think a former lawyer like Sir Keir would recognise. We should be welcoming our migrants with reception barges in the middle of the English Channel and then packing them off to work in care homes, not to mention reversing Brexit because the will of the people undeniably supports a fresh start with our former European partners, and don't let the biased media tell you this wouldn't be a surefire votewinner.
On the face of it the promise to Set up Great British Energy is a positive thing, a bold move to tackle economic hardship and the inevitable scourge of climate change. But where is the promise to renationalise our water companies, ending the crippling bills which bleed us dry to pay shareholders and allow human sewage to pollute our rivers? Where too is the former pledge to spend £28bn a year on climate projects, or to impose a pay-as-you-go road tax on the most polluting vehicles, or to phase out coal 100 days into a new Labour government? The absence of these key issues from Sir Keir's list speaks volumes, whereas what we need are rock-solid aspirational commitments which precisely match our own personal agendas.
A plan to Crack down on antisocial behaviour sounds like something the Daily Mail would campaign for, not a key plank of a Labour relaunch. Are we so desperate for former Tories to vote for us that we abandon all our core values? Rather than rapping knuckles and advocating stop and search we should instead be opening youth clubs and investing in Sure Start centres, thereby empowering a new generation instead of demonising them. It's barely a decade since Tony Blair proposed introducing a mandatory new ID card for all, a draconian imposition Keir Starmer might easily reconsider, such are the dangers of electing an insufficiently progressive government.
Of all Keir's first steps Recruit 6500 new teachers is undoubtedly the weakest, an aspirational target which barely addresses the issue at hand. England contains over 24,000 schools so this pledge amounts to providing a new member of staff only for one in four, a drop in the ocean which entirely fails to "ensure that every child has access to high-quality education provision". More important is to reverse the assault on gendered toilets and the teaching of woke studies, issues the wider voting public would undoubtedly support if only they had been educated better themselves.
It's been five years since Jeremy Corbyn presented a radical agenda to the nation and was roundly defeated by an incompetent populist buffoon. Now is the time to try again, moving left to balance out the Tories moving right, rather than simply rolling over and telling red wall voters what they want to hear. We cannot afford to be pragmatic, we must embrace our egalitarian principles and offer policies which improve the lot of everyone on this island equally, otherwise what is the point of voting Labour... we might as well all stay at home.
It seems Sir Keir is insistent on courting the centre ground in an attempt simply to gain power rather than reshaping Britain, indeed he looks likely to win a landslide with his mealy-mouthed managementspeak and watered-down promises. We must therefore prepare ourselves for five long years of abject disappointment as a Labour government manages to be insufficiently bold with every policy choice and every ministerial decision. It might even be better if Starmer were to lose and we faced spending the rest of the decade under a cruel Conservative regime further rolling back the state and leaving the weak to fend for themselves. Only once every voter is screwed equally will the need for a proper Labour government become collectively inevitable.
MARYLEBONE STATION Group: British Railways Purchase price: £200 Rent: £25 Annual passengers: 10 million Borough:Westminster Postcode: NW1
The second of the four railway stations on the Monopoly board is unexpectedly minor, the terminus for a few trains from the Chilterns. It made the cut for the UK version because Waddington's boss Victor Watson was from Leeds so chose only LNER termini, which Marylebone was between 1923 and 1948. It may be a small station but it's much loved, packed with detail, architecturally superior and an excellent way to avoid travelling on Avanti West Coast. To answer that question, announcements on the Bakerloo line pronounce it MARR-le-bone.
A (very) brief history:Marylebone opened later than all of London's other mainline termini, providing an alternative service to the Midlands and the North West along the Great Central Main Line. The first trains ran on 15th March 1899, i.e. almost exactly 125 years ago, which helps explain the abundance of anniversary stickers and celebratory bunting currently in place around the station. Marylebone was never especially popular for long distance journeys and when Beeching axed its Midlands connection it became solely reliant on commuter traffic. In 1984 British Rail announced plans for a full closure and conversion of the tracks into an expressway for coaches, but public opposition (and excessively low headroom) put paid to that. Marylebone's subsequent turnaround came from better signalling and long-term investment from private company Chiltern Railways, and they've been running the show here since 1996.
Let's start outside. The station arrived too late to face direct onto Marylebone Road so was instead shoehorned one street back on Melcombe Place, its arrival requiring the demolition of an entire block of residential housing. The front of the building features Dutch gables and multiple chimneystacks plus the arms of the Great Central Railway above the centre of the arch. It still looks more like a station you might find in Wolverhampton or Nottingham rather than a main London terminus. The most striking exterior feature is an iron and glass porte-cochère, currently used to shield the taxi rank from the elements but which was originally built to protect guests heading into the Great Central Hotel across the street. It's proper elegant.
Hotel fact: Between 1948 and 1986 the hotel building was used as the headquarters of British Rail. Porte-cochère fact: British Rail stumped up the cash to restore the structure in 1993 (see adjacent plaque). Great Central fact: The rail company's name survives in the name of Great Central Street, a road punched through to connect to Marylebone Road, and can also be seen in the tiles at the far ends of the Bakerloo line platforms because that station was once called Great Central.
Step inside and it all looks very impressive but also a bit cluttered. Originally all the facilities would have been around the edge of the concourse, and the tiny WH Smith shop still is, but additional kiosks have been added in the middle over recent years. One's a garish gold colour and dispenses coffee, while another used to contain helpful station staff but now only proffers information about Bicester Village, the Oxfordshire outlet that's the highlight of many a far eastern visitor's London trip. Chiltern's accountants must be delighted these smiling brand voyagers still turn up in big numbers, validating all that investment they put into introducing direct services in 2016.
The ticket office isn't where the old Network SouthEast signage says it is, but instead behind a slightly-rustic-looking counter near the top of the tube escalators. Time was when the queue used to get frustratingly long, indeed Michael Portillo once joined the line behind me and spent several minutes waiting his turn, but when I rocked up on Sunday morning I unexpectedly strolled straight to the front for immediate attention. All the obliging folk with simpler queries are over at the machines in the middle, pushing buttons under the departure board, or swiping directly through the gates on e-tickets instead. The departure board only shows the next six services but that's generally everything leaving the station for the best part of an hour. And if your next train to Birmingham could be that far distant, this helps explain the abundance of retail and hospitality options close by.
If there's time for a beer the bar at the Victoria and Albert awaits. It's been here since 1971, though looks older, and its cheapest draught lager is currently an Amstel for £5.70. Alternatively, if background baseball's more your thing, maybe try the plainer Sports Bar by the toilets. A Greggs exists for those who can't board a train without clutching a hot pastry, a Burger King for those who need something greasier and an M&S Food for those whose snack requirements are more middle class. Also lining up against the back of the escalators are a Boots and a card shop, and if you need a thoughtful gift for the person who'll be greeting you at the end of your journey I recommend the florist over the Oliver Bonas.
For cranial nourishment you can always check out the multitude of heritage plaques and posters. An entire history of the station was displayed across seven colourful panels in the western vestibule to celebrate the recent 125th anniversary, so feel free to read those if my earlier potted summary wasn't sufficient. Alongside is an enormous map of the local area part-overlaid across Chiltern's rail network, a new artwork which must both impress and confuse those entering the station (for augmented information scan the QR code alongside and make sure you have the latest version of Instagram on your phone). Meanwhile for those who prefer to read words without additional faff, the three plaques lined up above M&S's £10 bouquets were installed to commemorate Sir Edward Watkin's 200th birthday, Sir John Betjeman's 100th and the centenary of the opening of the station.
When the time comes to board your train, aim for the V-shaped gateline in front the platforms and aim towards Boarding Area A or Boarding Area B. Those turning right towards the lower numbered platforms also get to enjoy a 9-foot statue of the driving force behind Chiltern Railways, Adrian Shooter, which was unveiled in 2022 a few months before his death. Adrian's achievements include wangling a 20-year franchise, enabling substantial long-term investment, doubling passenger numbers and having a Himalayan steam railway in his back garden. He later refurbished lots of former District line trains for use on the rail network but that hasn't turned out quite so well. Adrian is also the only person I've ever had Christmas dinner with who went on to be honoured by a public statue. Admittedly he left the meal early, but this was in 1995 when his mind was probably fully occupied on winning the first Chiltern franchise instead.
The original railway into Marylebone proved so expensive to build that there was only room for half the number of intended platforms, hence the trainshed feels long and narrow. It still has great character, however, and remains ideal for use by film directors requiring a heritage vibe. Two further platforms were added in the 1980s by replacing the central carriage road, and three more squeezed in at the far end in 2006 to support a busier timetable. If you're lucky your train leaves from the closest, but you might have to walk up to the far end to reach the shorter platforms 4, 5 and 6 so make sure you leave enough time. This long hike also involves passing a substantial bike rack which fills one entire wall, a facility which is no longer available only to season ticket holders. If you're curious about the staircases at the very tip of each platform, they're for emergency use only and bring you out onto the bridge at Rossmore Road.
One thing which marks out Marylebone is that the lines into it have never been electrified, hence you can always hear the characteristic low thrum of the diesels while they're sitting in the platforms. At less busy times, with so few trains barely occupying so long a space, you can easily imagine how station closure once ended up on the agenda. But during rush hours, on Wembley match days or when the pull of Bicester Village is particularly strong, best give thanks that no fool ever signed off on that proposal and thus this transport jewel survives and thrives.
Sometimes you just want to go for a nice walk, nothing too taxing, a bit of a stroll, easily reached, pretty flowers, running water, hidden secrets, occasional benches, refreshment opportunity, entirely step-free, won't take long. So here's an anonymous three-quarter-mile circuit in the London suburbs, nowhere near enough to make a day of it but a nice walk all the same.
I'm starting from a station used by many people who live in the local neighbourhood. It won't be winning any prizes for architecture, nor is it a regular on the tourist trail, nor is it clear when the ticket office sold its last ticket. A mop and brushes are tucked away in the corner near a yellow plastic cone. Outside I dodge the blue car that's just pulled up, delivering a late commuter to the main entrance who then rushes for the stairs. The cafe outside is remarkably quiet, the proprietor looking out in the seemingly vain hope that someone might want a mocha and an almond croissant. It's very easy to see what the establishment's signature colour is. I check six properties in the estate agent's window but they offer nothing I could afford, then turn to ponder what might be going on with the peculiar shop opposite. Thankfully the rain has now stopped.
While I steel myself for the off, a small terrier stops for a sniff in the foliage at the foot of a young tree. The pillarbox by the crossroads has a last posting time of 9am so it may already be too late to get a first class letter somewhere by tomorrow. The fingerpost on the corner is simultaneously over-pedantic and somewhat out of date. A Sainsbury delivery van heads off in the opposite direction to the way I'm going. I'm surprised I haven't blogged about this street before because it has several memorable features you'd think I'd have mentioned previously, but I see I've pencilled it in for later. A parakeet squawks overhead, heard but not seen. One house has a chequered tiled front path, another a brolly drying in the porch and another drips with the last faded gasps of wisteria. I think those are the first foxgloves I've seen this year.
After the final junction I enter uncharted territory, by which I mean I've never walked this way before. Number 22 has a trace of bunting draped across the fence left over from what appears to have been a lively party in the back garden, judging by the number of gazebos. An estate agent would have no trouble selling the two houses at the far end, their glasswork and woodwork being very distinctive, but perhaps not the bungalow opposite which is opportunistic postwar infill. The footpath ahead fades in gently, heralded by some impeccable herbaceous beds. The brickwork to either side make me wonder if perhaps... and when I check later on an old map yes that was absolutely the case.
The street furniture in the area is very distinctive, each item labelled with the name of the manufacturer, and definitely from a previous catalogue rather than the sustainable timber-focused solutions they offer today. At the allotments one sign warns users what not to add to their compost and another gives the date of the upcoming BBQ. The usual motley assortment of cloches, boards and plastic sheeting are being used to keep seedlings protected from any late frost. One plotholder has covered their canes with upturned empty 7-Up bottles while another, inexplicably, has a birdtable topped with assorted gnomes. Personally I wouldn't have put that blue sign on my shed but it is very evocative of a previous motoring era.
Ahead is probably the least attractive section of the walk but the upcoming obstacle has to be negotiated. At least the whiff of stale urine is only brief. I don't think the paint daubed on the wall is meant to be art but it's possible it was meant to be a long time ago. The fence ahead appears to comprise timber panels from at least six separate installations, judging by the colours of the staining. Crossing the next street has been made easy by an abundance of overfussy pedestrian crossings dating, I suspect, from the Tufty Club era. The houses here are half a dozen years older than the cafe. Along the next footpath the clematis is in bloom and a few early pink roses are poking above the fence, so that's nice. And then we hit the park.
This is very much the highlight of the walk, although I see I wasn't particularly impressed the last time I was here. Also the same people who made the bollards made the litter bin, or rather 'litter & dog waste' bin because it's definitely brimming over with more of the latter. The grass sparkles with dandelion clocks and buttercups, a couple of irises are flourishing by the cycle path, a handful of bluebells are holding on and I think I spotted some alliums starting to shine. All in all I'd say the finest feature is the long-standing clump of conifers. Most of the benches are unattributed but Ian and Rocky have a new one. Anyone reading the noticeboard might assume the only events which take place locally are dog-related, and the evidence I saw bouncing across the nearby grass suggested the demand is well justified.
A river trickles quietly through, apart from the stripes where it's less quiet, and is best viewed from the inconspicuous footbridge. At this time of year what's being carried on the surface is mostly blossom but I imagine the channel gets quite leafy later. Thus far only Tracey and Philip have attached an engraved padlock to the metalwork and I very much hope their trailblazing schmaltz doesn't catch on. I also found a minuscule blue artwork stuck to an upright, like a dimpled organic shell, plus a sign suggesting Helen was to thank for the prickly mammal by the park entrance. I think I was supposed to hunt for several more of these but I only found a small marbled stomach on a noticeboard.
On leaving the park the house opposite is very obviously half of a pair of semi-detached houses, now with a separate cul-de-sac nextdoor where I guess the bomb hit. An ambulance turns up here as I pass, but not in a loud flashy way so I assume the visit is routine. The cars parked between the gate and the main road - which might give some idea of the local demographics - are a Ford, Toyota, Audi, Kia, Fiat, Suzuki, two VWs, two Skodas and two Hyundais. The 'Beware of the dog' sign on the back gate at number 39 has split clean in two straight down the middle. If you want to see the crust of bread abandoned on a tree stump by the cycle crossing, best hurry before the magpies snaffle it.
The circuit is almost at an end but there's still time to admire the local plasterwork and the window on the house on the corner which resembles an Art Deco sunset. If you're in the area on Saturday, be aware that one of the houses is holding a plant and cake sale in aid of cancer research and they're offering a free bookmark with every purchase. The presence of a school in the vicinity perhaps explains the scrap of burst balloon on the pavement, not far from the empty packet of strawberry flavour pencils. The loop is closed by negotiating some cycle-unfriendly metalwork, a tiled wall and a stack of unread Metros, as you would expect in such a location. I'm pleased to see the cafe now appears to have some customers but I choose not to join them, after what has certainly been a memorable walk.
In May 2004 I wrote a month-long series called Silver Jubilee to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Jubilee line. I believe in playing the long game, so today I'm reviving the feature to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Jubilee line extension.
The Jubilee line extension opened in six incremental stages as engineers battled against the immovable deadline of Millennium Eve. The first section to open was North Greenwich to Stratford on Friday 14th May 1999, a fact commemorated on plaques at three of the four stations if you know where to look.
So here's what I wrote about the first four extension stations in 2004, when they were just five years old, in each case followed by an updated version. The first in each pair of photos is from 2004, the second from 2024. More photos here. If you want to read about all 28 Jubilee line stations (complete with hundreds of links that no longer work) the original Silver Jubilee posts are here.
Silver Jubilee:North Greenwich
Opened: Friday 14th May 1999 Distance from previous station: 1.7 km (beneath the River Thames) You are now entering: the London Borough of Greenwich, zone 3 Fact file: North Greenwich station is even bigger than Canary Wharf station but serves a local population of virtually zero. The station contains over 150000 tonnes of reinforced concrete and is sort of purple-themed. There are three platforms here rather than the usual two, just in case anyone ever wants to build a new branch line out to Beckton and the Royal Docks. 5 things I found outside this station: a carelessly-discarded Dome, WH Smiths, a bus station in the middle of nowhere, a 1000-space car park, Group 4 security. Nearby: Millennium Dome, Millennium Way, Millennium Village, Millennium Quay, Millennium Sainsburys, big fat Millennium zero. Nearby, but a 5 minutes detour by road: the Blackwall tunnel. Not nearby enough: Greenwich, civilisation.
No longer true in 2024: North Greenwich is no longer the middle of nowhere. The local population is now many thousands. The Dome got rebranded by a phone company and now hosts massive gigs. The eco-tastic Millennium Sainsburys was demolished before its 20th birthday. Now change here for: Dangleway
Platforms: Long and deep, much the same as ever. Still under-escalatored. Nothing else on the Underground feels like it. Concourse: Unnervingly long, with one busy end and one eerie end that's always taped off. Temporary central barriers now seem permanent. Always an in/out clash as streams cross and merge, attempting to keep right. Spacious, but that space hasn't been used particularly practically. Ticket Hall: Occasional whiff of hot sausage rolls thanks to branch of Greggs (opened 2021). Full history of station displayed on window of former ticket office. The inevitable Pret. Lengthy whiteboard odes courtesy of @allontheboard, sometimes very out of date and facing backwards. Intermittent hordes of provincial gig-goers. 5 things I found outside this station: Branded aerial cabin, arrows to nudge punters towards the Dangleway, little stalls selling cupcakes and coffee, plaque commemorating the opening of North Greenwich Transport Interchange by a minor MP on 18th May 1999, the only bus station information kiosk in London still displaying rack of leaflets explaining 'How to make a simple face covering'. Nearby: Opportunities to eat and drink, adverts for brands, flat-flogging sales office, tiny insta-friendly art gallery, taxi drivers who only go south of the river, massive mouth of a not-quite finished road tunnel, more opportunities to eat and drink, the tip of a still unfinished neighbourhood.
Silver Jubilee:Canning Town
Opened: Monday 14th June 1847 Jubilee platforms opened: Friday 14th May 1999 Distance from previous station: 1.7 km (beneath the River Thames again) You are now entering: the London Borough of Newham Change here for: Docklands Light Railway and North London line Fact file: This is a double decker station, with the DLR platforms directly above the Jubilee line platforms. The eastbound DLR runs directly above the westbound Jubilee, but in the same actual direction. 5 things I found outside this station: a big flyover on the A13, an MFI superstore, a teeming bus station, Purvi newsagents, a large stone memorial commemorating the nearby Thames Ironworks (HMS Warrior was built here in 1860). Nearby: Bow Creek, Leamouth, Trinity Buoy Wharf (London's only lighthouse).
No longer true in 2024: The MFI superstore has become phase 1 of 'Manor Road Quarter', a 32 storey residential tower. The bus station is seemingly permanently propped up by obstructive temporary scaffolding. Newsagents are no longer a thing hereabouts. Now borderline zone 2/3. Now also change here for: DLR to Woolwich or Stratford International from the former North London line platforms.
Platforms: Much the same as ever. Roundels now have pigeon spikes on top. Enormous blue vinyls confirm that these are platforms 5 and 6. Concourse: Annoying one-way system because the original design overwhelmed the escalators. Someone on the staff likes drawing full-colour manga. Ticket Hall: Costa (for anyone who's somehow missed the oversupply of coffee shops outside). Dangleway ads in place of ticket office. New exit to Bow Creek (already in place in 2004 but not yet open). 5 things I found outside this station: A bus drivers' mess room, a mess of a bus station, a bus map dated 28th October 2010, an intrusive new cycleway, a new residential neighbourhood anyone you'd met in 2004 would have laughed at the idea of. Nearby: Towers towers towers, flats flats flats, streets of pure capitalism named after suffragettes, millennials grazing, unscenic tidal mud, City Hall.
Silver Jubilee:West Ham
Opened: Monday 16th October 1854 Jubilee platforms opened: Friday 14th May 1999 Distance from previous station: 1.6 km Change here for: District, Hammersmith & City, c2c and North London lines Fact file: West Ham station is 1½ miles from West Ham football ground which must fool a lot of away supporters. You want Upton Park instead. 5 things I found outside this station: Ibstock bricks and small glass squares, Costcutter Express, a mini-roundabout, Memorial Avenue, a chippy under new management (shame). Nearby (eastward): a recreation ground, the East London Rugby Club, a few houses. Nearby (westward): no houses, Bow Back Rivers, light industrial sprawl, Olympic Park 2012 (maybe), the site of the old Big Brother House.
No longer true in 2024: West Ham football ground is now only 1 mile away, relocated to the Olympic Stadium. Costcutter is now a Nisa. The chippy sells a lot more chicken than fish these days. The former gasworks site to the west of the station is about to be thousands of flats. Now borderline zone 2/3. Now also change here for: DLR from the former North London line platforms.
Platforms: Much the same as ever. Part of the northbound platform is now overshadowed by scaffolding supporting new footbridge to adjacent development. Concourse: Currently beset by a year-long one-way system with multiple notices screaming 'Turn left' (many of which point right). Currently afflicted by people ignoring the one-way system because it inconveniences them. New entrance emerging behind blue hoardings. Ticket Hall: More people interchanging than exiting. Passive aggressive notice advising passengers there are no public toilets inside or outside the station (subtext - piss off). 5 things I found outside this station: BestMate (unexpectedly dropping by for a coffee), the ever-lovely Rial cafe, a dry cleaners that probably makes more money from selling vapes, a boarded-off staircase leading across the tracks towards the new TwelveTrees development, workman grouting the aforementioned staircase. Nearby: Sales office for new development ("a flourishing new place to call home"), landmark towers, a lowly longstanding local neighbourhood that's about to be usurped.
Silver Jubilee:Stratford
Opened: Thursday 20th June 1839 Jubilee platforms opened: Friday 14th May 1999 Distance from previous station: 1.5 km Change here for: Central line, Docklands Light Railway, North London line and One (somebody please sack the PR gibbon who thought that name up) Change here soon for: Eurostar services to St Pancras and Paris, via the new Channel Tunnel Rail Link. Fact file: Stratford station used to be a bit of a dump. But it was completely rebuilt between 1996 and 1999 and is now a bit of a stunner, although it's still a heck of a long walk out of the station from the Jubilee line platforms. Coming soon, just to the north, Stratford International. 5 things I found outside this station: Meridian Square, a big bus station, a steam engine called Robert, scores of people, my local shopping centre. Nearby: Stratford Market train depot (formerly a fruit & veg market), the Cultural Quarter (Theatre Royal + Stratford Picturehouse + Stratford Circus). Nearby (maybe): Olympic Park 2012
Transformed since 2004: Nowhere else in London has changed so much over the last 20 years. Westfield and the Olympics transformed Stratford's fortunes, opening up a whole new hinterland on the north side of the station. No longer true in 2024: Less of a stunner than it once was due to congestion and overuse. Now borderline zone 2/3. Eurostar never bothered stopping. Now also change here for: DLR from the former North London line platforms, Elizabeth line to Paddington, Overground to Willesden, Greater Anglia to Norwich and Tottenham Hale.
Platforms: Just the two now that platform 13 is hardly ever used (thus speeding up turnaround and reducing congestion). A mostly-obsolete footbridge. Dozens of passengers dashing to slip in through the back doors of a departing train. Concourse: Petit Pret. Central stack of Evening Standards (afternoon peak only). Big analogue clock. Ridiculously tiny badly-positioned departure board. New station entrance from Carpenters Road estate nigh ready to open. Ticket Hall: Still got a Smiths. Majority of ticket machines replaced by advert for Google contactless. Awkwardly intersecting flows of incoming and outgoing passengers. 5 things I found outside this station: Homeless sleeper under dirty duvet. Deano's Continental Foods (selling German sausage and Coffee's), permeable ring of protective bollards, attempts to hand out evangelical literature, relocated taxi rank. Nearby: All the shops and then some, upthrusted towers, student hutches, glinting fishy scales attempting to hide a multi-storey car park, broken escalators to Westfield, cinemas for rich and poor, 2012's field of dreams.
Happy silver jubilee to the silvery Jubilee line extension.
As unexpected street names go, this is right up there.
Stanley Kubrick Road is in Denham in Buckinghamshire.
And there are more where that came from.
n.b. there are four Denhams.
• Denham, the historic posh village just off the A40
• Denham Green, the newer commuter bit near the station
• New Denham, several new streets just north of Uxbridge
• Higher Denham, the separate slice beside the golf club
Specifically Stanley Kubrick Road is in Denham Green.
Three things to see in Denham Green
1) Denham Film Studios
Hungarian-born film director Alexander Korda opened his filmstudios just north of Denham in 1935. Some of the films made here include Blithe Spirit, In Which We Serve, Goodbye Mr Chips and Brief Encounter (in the latter case, just the interior of the refreshment room). In 1946 a large sound stage opened capable of accommodating the largest of orchestras, and this continued to be popular even after films stopped being made in 1952. Soundtracks recorded here include Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Alien, GoldenEye and the first two Star Wars films (before they were renamed with Roman numerals). Much of the site became a business park in 1981 and this is currently home to Bosch's UK HQ. But the Art Deco main building remained in use until 2014, and has since been converted (and this will not surprise you) into luxuryflats.
It never used to say The Denham Film Studios on the front, indeed being old and local I remember when it said Rank Xerox instead. The frontage also never used to have little sun terraces and tiny gardenettes, and although there was always a cinema at the far end it wasn't previously for the exclusive use of residents. In the 2018 sales brochure the flats carved from the interior were given names like The Olivier, The Hamill and The Brosnan, the largest being The Andress and The Shaw. But this is not where the developers made the majority of their money, they also packed the surrounding lot with 100 flats (The Weaver, The Blanchett, The Cruise) and 70 incredibly boxy houses with the blandest of rectangular back gardens (The Lucas, The Spielberg, The Winner).
Being a private development they don't encourage walk-ins, but no signs anywhere said don't so I did. I sat on a bench in the Celluloid Garden, a stark raised area overlooked by stills from Full Metal Jacket and 2001 A Space Odyssey. I then walked round the side of the estate dodging a parcel courier and a reversing resident. And at the back I found Fame Square, a pristine lawn surrounded by umpteen brass plaques inlaid in the pavement each with the name of a locally produced film. Every time I read one I thought 'blimey, seriously, here?', be that Vertigo, ET, The Great Escape or Alien, although I suspect most of these were just a bit of sound production. Supposedly you can check all the backstories on the Weston Homes app, but that seemed an impractical faff so I didn't bother. In a more significant flaw, a lot of residents park their cars on these stripes of paving so Tomorrow Never Dies was mostly hidden under a BMW and The Empire Strikes Back entirely covered by a white van.
But I was really here for the cluster of street names I'd seen on a map, having tasted gold with Ruby Tuesday Drive last week. First up was Stanley Kubrick Road, a name chiselled into the gateposts along with the postcode UB9, as befits the main road which curls round three sides of the development. Only by venturing further off the main road could I catalogue the sideroads and confirm that they exist. First up was Albert Broccoli Road, a square loop where everyone lives in a five bedder, followed by the slightly briefer Celia Johnson Close. Fame Square is to be found in the middle of Noel Coward Avenue, not that I think he'd have been impressed, and up the far end is the slightly less prestigious Greer Garson Road.
If you've ever wanted to pay a premium to live in a brick box close to where they once made part of something you really enjoyed watching, you know where to come.
2) Northmoor Hill Wood Nature Reserve
This is a much less artificial attraction, a remnant of ancient forest to delight those with a love of nature and geology. It's signposted from the A412, first a mile up Denham Green Road then turn right along the lane past Denham Aerodrome. This private airfield was ridiculously busy on Sunday morning with light planes and helicopters taking off at Heathrow-like intervals, and suddenly it made perfect sense why Cilla Black might have chosen to live in a big house up Tilehouse Lane for commuting reasons. But for all the jetset's comings and goings the car park at Northmoor Hill was entirely empty so it looked like I was going to have the woods all to myself. This way for the Rock Route, said the semi-legible information board.
What's special here is the change in soil across a very small area. The Rock Route circuit starts off on boggy clay (with alders) then crosses a timber boardwalk onto better drained sand (with oak and beech). At the foot of the first set of steps is a tiny chalk streamlet which a few feet further on disappears into a swallow hole and excitingly creates a 'blind valley'. And beyond that is a disused quarry, now covered in vegetation, once used for digging out flint for buildings and chalk for use as mortar. These days its multitude of slopes are ideal for trial bikes, hence when I turned up various members of the Hillingdon and Uxbridge Motor Club (or HUX for short) were using it for practice. What with the roar of their engines and the planes taking off overhead it was all less idyllic than it might have been, but still more of a treat than street signs on a housing estate.
3) HS2 Colne Valley Viaduct
The two mile Colne Valley Viaduct will be the longest railway bridge in the UK when it's completed, and crossed by HS2 trains in 40 seconds flat. The controversial lake-skimming section is entirely in London and the massive scar where the bridge touches down is in Hertfordshire, but the intermediate bit's in Buckinghamshire, thus technically in Denham. After crossing the River Colne the viaduct spends much of its time shadowing the A412, then crossing it, where previously would have been nothing but trees and watermeadow.
It looks pretty elegant to be fair, the pre-cast concrete sections gently curved and the piers low to the ground, but it's still a massive visual and environmental imposition. A lot of this unwanted impact is due to the scale of the adjacent worksites, a necessary evil now so that the finished span can be as incongruous as possible later. But it's also made walking the Colne Valley somewhat of a trial, for example at the precise boundary between Bucks and Herts where Old Shire Lane has been transformed from a public bridleway into an inaccessible sculpted gash. If you've not been out this way recently you may not realise how mega the mega-engineering in this project is, nor why HS2 won't be opening for years, but to see is to believe.
Three more things to see in Denham Green
4)Denham Garden Village is a large but compact retirement hideaway, originally opened when the Licensed Victuallers Asylum relocated from the Old Kent Road in the 1950s. Then in 2008 they rebuilt it all again, now with a central restaurant/library/gym complex, the only surviving feature from the original being the statue of Prince Albert on the front lawn. 5)Denham station's nowhere near as special architecturally as Denham Golf Club, but it does have a spooky exit which leads down into a brick arch beneath the platforms where a rural footpath leads off to Denham proper, should commuters want to risk it. 6)Savay Farm is a large timber-framed 12th century farmhouse backing onto the Colne, but terribly private as you'd expect from somewhere Oswald Mosley used to live so don't go looking specially.
Today we're off to the only south London suburb that starts with The, namely The Wrythe which is a significant part of Sutton. Essentially it's North Carshalton but has had a separate identity since medieval times, actual residents since Victorian times and today forms a characterful nucleus amid the sprawl of an enormous housing estate. Let's start in the heart of the old hamlet and then go for a long walk up two former country lanes that bear the Wrythe name. Don't expect to learn anything of long term consequence.
The area of Carshalton known as The Rithe was first recorded in 1229, a rithe being a small stream. Initially it was merely somewhere useful to extract gravel, then somewhere to hide a workhouse, and only after improvements in drainage at the start of the 1800s did a small hamlet grow up. All these facts I took from an information board on Wrythe Green, a bow-tie-shaped patch of common land that's still semi-recognisably the old village green. These days it doubles up as a criss-cross gyratory for cars heading in from Morden and Hackbridge, but the cottages along the northern side are still recognisably original. Waterloo Place has a plaque claiming to be 1845, Little Ferncote is adorably timbered and the newsagent has a very fine protruding gallery window. Make the most of all this heritage because there's very little where we're heading later.
Wrythe Green's not looking its best at the moment because the council are currently digging up a large chunk for drainage reasons. But the fragment with the old mulberry tree and the new community orchard is untouched, and the green wedge with the war memorial remains the most popular place to sit, probably because it's closest to the shops. The Wrythe has a very decent local parade, peaking with an M&S Food if you head round the back of the garage. Three other retail highlights are Melyvn Clarke (a proper throwback ironmongers selling six-piece brush sets and steel toe-capped wellies), Purrfect For Pets (who were celebrating their 35th birthday yesterday with a prize raffle) and Nana B's (a cafe with cloyingly pink sofas specialising in cakes and brownies). Make the most of all this aspirational consumption because there's very little where we're heading later.
Wrythe Lane, which we're about to follow north, starts with an ornate drinking fountain at the entrance to a large recreation ground. Both date to 1900, just as the hamlet was starting to grow, and the fountain is the principal remaining reference to the small stream which sprang from the ground on the site of the petrol station. All this I took from an information board on the railings, along with the additional fact that the fountain's taps are 2019 replicas. A pub and a church once stood on the next stretch, the modern highlights alas merely a kebab shop and a self-storage depot, and then the enormous spread of houses begins. 100 years ago the London County Council looked at this country lane and thought "what this really needs is hundreds of front gardens, and then some," and so the St Helier estate came to be.
As council houses go they're quite varied, a tiled pitched roof the only constant, and often bunched together in sixes rather than pairs. Nobody gets a garage but everybody gets a front garden so parking isn't hard. And homes are packed in everywhere, up umpteen interlocking sideroads, making age-old Wrythe Lane a modern busy feeder. Before the LCC descended and swallowed up 800 acres most of this was low quality farmland, mostly market gardening but dotted here and there with lavender fields and piggeries. One of the farms was originally called Pig Farm, then Hill Farm, and its timber barn was one of the last buildings to be demolished. All these facts I took from an information board on the exterior of a rotunda, indeed the estate seems keen to grasp at any scrap of history it can find.
Halfway up is a seriously traditional parade of shops where one of the barbers attracts custom by having a giant model of Superman in the window and spicy food barely gets a look in. Of the two greasy spoons, the Tudor Cafe and H's, the former must do a better fry-up judging by the crowd outside on the sun terrace. And then the houses return, so many houses, as Wrythe Lane continues its gentle ascent and peaks somewhere in the 250s. To the resident whose green recycling box was overflowing with nothing but crushed cans of Stella Artois, perhaps tone it down a bit. Ahead is the best known building hereabouts, St Helier Hospital, which would once have looked fabulously modern but now resembles a teetering stack of white boxes in urgent need of replacement. If nothing else it means the area gets a very decent bus service.
St Helier Open Space is a Green Flag park which would be a tad nicer if it didn't have pylons sailing high across it. Closest to the hospital is a Garden of Reflection recently added as a memorial to those lost in the pandemic, both staff and patients, with woody sculptures, butterfly benches and supposedly uplifting poems. And then the shops return, this time three dozen strong because this redbrick parade is the St Helier estate's chief retail hub. It says a lot for the age of the surrounding population that two of them are funeral directors. The cuisine here is more diverse, but if you want to sit in your mobility scooter and eat pancakes covered with squirty cream accompanied by a mug of tea you can. The big Lidl at the end overlooks the massive Rosehill roundabout, formerly a minor rural crossroads, and that was Wrythe Lane.
Let's rewind to The Wrythe, a mile and a half back, and walk north up Green Wrythe Lane instead. It's well named because it is indeed greener for much of its length, retaining a line of trees to one side of the road along a dandelioned grassy stripe. Its houses seem a little nicer too, more desirably right-to-buy, and this time there are over 400 of them. Everything on the right hand side of the road originally belonged to Batts Farm whose fields rolled all the way down to the River Wandle and whose farmer, George Miller, once distilled his own lavender (according to more facts from that rotunda). And where the farm track joined the lane the LCC built a roundabout called The Circle and surrounded it by a full-on neighbourhood hub. i.e. yet another parade of shops.
The Fudgecakes Bakery looked tempting until I saw they couldn't spell the word 'pasteries'. The Boujee salon lets its customers vape on the pavement with a headful of foil while their blond streaks set. The halal butcher has closed down but still has a 'Cheap Boiler' sign out front left over from the previous failed tenant. And the block of flats on the northeastern corner is where the St Helier Arms used to be, one of just three pubs provided for the estate's population of 40,000 and all now gone. Even today it's easier to buy bacon and eggs round here than a draught pint, indeed that remains impossible. The final stretch of Green Wrythe Lane passes the library, more pylons, deep undergrowth, two phone masts and of course lots and lots more houses. All these facts I got from visiting The Wrythe and exploring in person, from the old village green up its transformed lanes across those former fields.
I won't keep you long today.
It's a lovely day and you should be out enjoying it.
Let's answer a dull question.
Which London bus terminus has the most terminating routes?
See, half of you can head off already.
Probably more than half actually.
This is a surprisingly difficult question to answer.
It used to be easy when TfL made bus maps.
You'd open the set of maps, count the routes at each terminus and see which came out on top.
Can't do that any more.
I did start by doing exactly that with the 2016 set of maps to get a rough sense of numbers.
But those maps are now eight years old and out of date.
Wildly out of date in places.
Take Walthamstow bus station, for example.
Eight terminating routes on the 2016 map.
Since then one route scrapped, one diverted and two Superloops shoehorned in.
I make that ten now.
But ten can be beaten.
I made myself a list of likely contenders and then checked their spider maps.
Yeah, but spider maps are rubbish too these days.
Time was when they had a useful list of routes in the corner.
All you had to do was see which routes appeared only once, not twice.
Can't do that any more.
If you're the muppet at TfL who binned the list in the corner, damn you.
You made answering this question ridiculously harder.
Also not every likely contender has a spider map.
There isn't a spider map for Uxbridge, can you believe that?
There isn't a spider map for Edgware either.
Cost-cutting blinkered jobsworth muppets did this.
I ended up having to check several webpages for individual bus stops.
Even then it's not clear whether buses actually terminate there or not.
Map-scrappers be damned.
What I'm saying is I've probably counted some of this wrong.
But I hope this is right.
The bus stop with the most terminating routes is at Bromley North.
It has 12 terminating routes.
They are 61 119 138 146 227 246 269 352 354 367 SL3 SL5.
It's the Superloop that clinched it.
I won't show you a photo.
If you're interested you already know what Bromley North looks like.
Victoria station is also the terminus for 12 bus routes.
They are 3 6 13 26 38 44 52 170 185 390 C1 C10.
Unlike Bromley North, they don't all terminate in exactly the same place.
If we're being picky, most of those routes terminate outside the bus station.
I'm not being quite that picky.
The terminus in third place is Edgware with 11 routes.
They are 32 79 107 113 204 221 240 251 303 340 384.
All these routes terminate at the same bus stop outside the station.
I should say I'm not including nightbuses.
Edgware overtakes Bromley North if you include night buses.
In fact, if you include night buses Trafalgar Square wins outright.
Several bus stations have 10 terminating routes.
They are Brent Cross, Crystal Palace, Hounslow, Uxbridge and Walthamstow.
I should say I'm only counting TfL routes.
Orpington would also have 10 routes if you included the non-TfL 477.
I think Kingston's Cromwell Road bus station also normally has 10.
But it's closed at the moment.
The other terminus with 10 routes is Lewisham station.
They're 75 89 178 181 185 208 261 284 484 P4.
Five other routes terminate very nearby but still have 'Lewisham' on the front.
They're 21 108 129 380 436.
If you're happy to include Lewisham Tesco then 273 counts too.
Arguably Lewisham has 16 terminating routes.
Arguably Lewisham wins.
But if we're being pure the winner is Bromley North.
I'm aware I've probably got the finer detail of this wrong.
I'm also aware I could check all of this more carefully on Mike Harris's excellent bus map.
But I don't have the latest April 2024 map so I haven't checked it.
If you're one of the half dozen people who genuinely cares, hello.
Feel free to do your own research and tell me I'm wrong.
But quite frankly you should have stopped reading ages ago.
Most readers already have, it's a lovely day.
The National Gallery first threw open its doors 200 years ago today. It wasn't in Trafalgar Square at the time, that hadn't been built yet, but at 100 Pall Mall in a dead banker's townhouse. Here John Julius Angerstein's small collection of Old Masters was displayed, slowly growing in scale and stature as the government acquired additional bequests before the enlarged collection moved to its current home in 1838. The bicentenary is being celebrated tonight with a public lightshow across the frontage of the building and a private shindig inside hosted by Jools Holland.
I visited marginally prematurely for a good look round and an admiring wander. "I should try and walk round every room," I thought, and then I thought "I wonder how many rooms there are." This led to a more intriguing 200th birthday challenge, namely could I visit 200 rooms displaying art by branching out across London's other galleries? They all had to be free to access and ideally I wanted to go round 200 rooms in one day. How many galleries would it take? Was it even possible? Place your bets.
It's always a joy to explore the National Gallery, and feels even more special at present wih the Sainsbury Wing closed meaning you enter through the proper front doors for a change. On its walls are hung dozens of world-renowned classic canvases, and if you follow the right route they tell the story of fine art from pre-Renaissance to post-Impressionism. Helpfully for my purposes all the upstairs rooms are numbered (and the downstairs rooms lettered) so keeping a tally wasn't too onerous. I aimed initially for my favourite room where Bathers at Asnières, Sunflowers and A Wheatfield With Cypresses are on display, which is room 43, and then continued round in a sweeping sequence.
Bicentenary fact: The first painting in the National Gallery collection, which still has the catalogue reference NG1, is The Raising of Lazarus by Sebastiano del Piombo and you'll find it in room 32.
The day was young, which was good because the place wasn't yet packed and bad because room 17a only opens at 11am, so I had to I hang on long enough to enjoy Leonardo da Vinci's largest surviving cartoon. I also got to go into Room 46 to see The Last Caravaggio, under almost-as-dim lights, and realised that the number of rooms in the National Gallery is not always a fixed value. The closure of the Sainsbury Wing is a case in point because that would have contributed umpteen more rooms to my total, launching it into the 60s, whereas in fact I only managed to walk round 43 altogether. A decent enough start, but would it be enough to launch me towards 200?
The obvious place to go next was the gallery nextdoor, home to displays of portraiture since 1896 and very recently given a major spruce-up. It's another fabulous warren of art and also of history, indeed if you wander round in chronological order you get to meet all the makers and shakers of their day from Henry VII and Sir Thomas More to Victoria Wood and Judi Dench. Ascending the semi-ridiculous escalator launches you straight into the Tudors, which is room 1, and every room is sequentially numbered after that making cumulative tallying exceptionally easy.
The vast majority of portraits are of straight white men, reflecting the priorities at the time, but an NPG member of staff was attempting to address the imbalance by leading a group round and pointing out the queer history behind James I and the inherent fierceness of some ladies on the floor below. This thankfully is one of the galleries least beset by hordes of schoolchildren, but it was nice to see a primary class from Watford crocodiling round with clipboards and hi-vis before focusing in on one particular canvas. Also full marks to the NPG for being the only gallery on my quest to dish out maps for free (and with a smile), because everyone else either charges £2 or invites you download a sponsored app.
I did the two Tates next, stating with the Pimlico one because that's where the pre-20th century art is. A lot of people skip it because it's not entirely central but it has a fantastic collection covering 500 years of art including a lot of Henry Moores and an entire wing of Turners. Annoyingly the long gallery down the middle is currently sealed off while the next major commission is installed so you can only negotiate the entire building by walking around the edge which gets a bit tortuous in places. But if you're trying to enter every room you want to walk through sequentially anyway so maybe it helped, plus they're also clearly numbered so you soon spot if you've missed one.
I found Ophelia, I donned my special glasses to go into the UV room and I loved the utterly incongruous decimal analogue clock in the Wolfson Gallery. But I also came up against the knotty dilemma of 'what actually is a room anyway', because the map said the numbers only went up to 39 but I think I went into more rooms than that. Specifically the Art Now gallery isn't numbered, room 7 is officially subdivided into 7a and 7b, and is it pedantically correct to include the archive gallery in the basement? Most controversially the Tate's former restaurant is currently hosting a video performance in which artist Rex Whistler (1905-1944) is torn to academic shreds for painting racial caricatures into his epicurean mural, although my dilemma was merely whether to count this as an extra room of art. I didn't in the end.
I was a bit nervous entering Tate Modern because I was still 85 rooms away from my target and that left a mountain to climb. I was even more nervous after wandering round the lower five floors of the new-ish Blatnavik Building because this only added 17 more, one of which was little more than an empty oil tank with two light bulbs in it. But the main building - the original power station - proved a lot more profitable because when they subdivided its floors they created a heck of a lot of separate internal spaces. I tried to count them all, occasionally misdirected by the meandering layout, and wondered whether it was right to count video-serving rooms-within-rooms as 1 or 2.
There's some cracking art in Tate Modern but some inexplicable modern tat too because art is in the eye of the beholder. I was also reassured that I hadn't simply seen all of it before, they do change the rooms around sometimes, so for example Yto Barrada's short film A Guide To Trees For Governors and Gardeners was a thought-provoking Thunderbirdsesque newbie. Suddenly Wham! always gets me too, even after all these years. After some very long walks I eventually reckoned there were 14 rooms on each wing, that's 28 per floor, although consulting the £2 map nudged that down slightly. It's still a whopping total though, a massive 70 rooms of free-to-view art, thankfully putting me within striking distance of hitting my goal.
I was getting tired now so I hoped this classic gallery in Marylebone would deliver me to 200. A visit is always a treat, like being invited into a grand home to admire the antique furniture and chintzy wallpaper as well as the art. The Laughing Cavalier hides amongst them if you know where to look. I started downstairs and soon upped my total to 192, having decided the armoury galleries definitely didn't count. There had better be at least eight rooms upstairs, I thought, and thankfully there were. I didn't need to count the landing or the penultimate cabinet full of miniatures, I hit my target as soon as I walked through from the Study into the Boudoir.
It is quite frankly amazing that you can enjoy 200 rooms of art in London by visiting just five galleries and without paying a penny. Admittedly the Louvre in Paris has over 400 rooms but that's only free on the first Friday evening of the month whereas London's treats are year round. Hurrah for the longstanding service of the National Gallery, now with two centuries under its belt, and which kickstarted all of this cultural bounty exactly 200 years ago. And as if to prove a point, when I stepped into my 201st room at the Wallace Collection who should I discover there but the actual Grayson Perry, fully skirted and ribboned, chatting with staff about his exhibition here next year. Even if you think you've seen it all before, London's artistic offering is always full of surprises.
As unexpected street names go, this is right up there.
And there are ten more where that came from.
We're not in London we're in Kent, on a housing estate in Dartford not far from the QE2 Bridge. We're in Dartford because that's where Mick Jagger and Keith Richards grew up, met and went on to form the Rolling Stones. And we're here because when the time came to pick street names somebody thought 'Why don't we name them after Rolling Stones records?' Hence more of this kind of thing.
The estate in question is called The Bridge, and lies to the north of the town centre on a large brownfield site backing onto Dartford Marshes. Originally this was the site of Joyce Green Hospital, a massive Edwardian institution built to confine smallpox sufferers far away from human habitation. After WW2 it became more community-focused and thus did Not Fade Away. But the opening of Darent Valley Hospital in 2000 caused services to be wound down for The Last Time, and complete demolition of the site means It's All Over Now. None of those three Rolling Stones tracks made the cut for subsequent street names, alas, but You Can't Always Get What You Want.
A former isolation hospital isn't normally the optimal location for a new community, but most people in Kent have cars so are very happy to live near a dual carriageway with excellent connections to Bluewater, the M25 and a Thames crossing. For cyclists and pedestrians it's just over a mile to Dartford town centre, and if you pick your route carefully you can pass the end of Spielman Road where Keith Richards grew up. But what planners really hoped you'll do is take the Fastrack, the segregated bus route that'll swiftly whizz you to the station, the shops or some nearby logistics-friendly workplace. Bussing out, by deliberate design, is a lot more direct than attempting to drive.
The estate was built in stages, each a separate residential wedge and each with a different rationale for naming its streets. Those in the first phase all got named after doctors and nurses who worked at the original hospital, or (in one case) aboard the hospital ships that previously moored in the estuary. The second phase had an engineering bent, for example Vickers Lane and Vimy Drive which both commemorate the Vickers Vimy bomber which made its maiden flight from RAF Joyce Green in 1917. But for the third phase the housing developers suggested something more unusual, naming the spine road after the local world famous rock group and the adjacent spurs after some of their biggest hits. Dartford council leapt at the idea and that's how Stones Avenue was born.
It's only a short walk from the bus stop by the Nisa supermarket, but this requires crossing a narrow green strip which doubles up as a scrubby residential buffer. The houses on the far side are compact but often with a third storey to make up for it, i.e. typically post-millennial, and many face directly onto a path with a parking space provided nearby. Front gardens plainly weren't deemed a necessity, hence most homes are blessed with little more than a stripe of gravel, loose slate or low shrubbery. It all feels pretty quiet, at least when the kids are in school and the estate's gardening squad isn't busy mowing the interstitials. But nothing quite prepares you for the street signs, the world of '60s and '70s pop writ large in a municipal typeface, like someone ran their finger down the Guinness Book of Hit Singles and thought hell yes, let's use that.
Tumbling Dice Mews is probably the weirdest, a Top 5 single from Exile on Main St which references a philandering gambler. Sympathy Vale is pretty odd too, although a lot better than the full Sympathy For The Devil Vale might have been. Rainbow Gardens sounds meteorological, as does Cloud Close, but musically speaking they follows She's A.... and Hey You Get Off Of My... respectively. Angie Mews and Lady Jane Place look the most mainstream, although some reckon at least one of those names is a codename for marijuana. Ruby Tuesday Drive was always a better bet than its alternative A side, Let's Spend the Night Together. Silver Train Gardens is actually a reference to a song about prostitutes, and imagine moving into Rambler Lane only to discover that your street commemorates the Boston Strangler. You wouldn't have got any of this dark nuance with the Beatles.
I'd been expecting to find all of the aforementioned street names because they're all on Open Street Map, but Little Red Walk came as a surprise. It's only six houses long, faces off against the community campus and originally looked like it ought to be part of Lady Jane Place. Good grief, I thought, who scans down a list of Rolling Stones records and chops off the Rooster in favour of the Little Red? It's still better than Honky Tonk Mews, Sticky Fingers Road or Nervous Breakdown Avenue might have been, although I do question the inexplicable absence of a Satisfaction Street. I apologise to the owner of number 1 Little Red Walk for zooming in on their kitchen blind when taking my photo.
But all credit to the estate's developers, specifically Jason Stokes the sales and marketing manager for Taylor Wimpey's south east region, for having the nerve to name an entire tranche of streets after local icons of popular culture. A musical slant is hugely more interesting than the usual tedious fallback of picking the names of trees, flowers, towns, girls' names or distant battlefields. Imagine the smiles if swathes of newbuild Acton were named after songs by The Who, streets in Catford after Status Quo or chunks of Watford after Wham! And in Dartford's case, because these choices actually enticed me to visit, I can bring you this exclusive Rolling Stones discography based entirely on local street names.
If you can't be bothered to hike out the edge of Dartford to see somesignage, rest assured you can always enjoy two new bronze statues of Mick and Keith in the centre of town instead.
