Twenty Years Ago

Twenty years ago today, I was in my office at the British Museum, which looked out over Russell Square. I have a vague memory of a large bang being heard – but if anything, I assumed it was just one of the many noises you get around central London.

Then, about twenty or so minutes later, one of my team came up to see me – they said that a colleague had just arrived in some shock. He said he’d just seen a bus explode. That must have been the bomb in Tavistock Square, although we didn’t know that at the time. And I believe we may have heard it go off, unknowingly.

In fact we weren’t sure what he’d seen. I made suggestions to help get him looked after, and said he could consider going home and resting.

The traffic began to ease off, outside, and we began to hear sirens. The story circulated that there were problems on the tube lines (power failures).

About an hour or so in, one of the Security team arrived to tell everyone to move away from the windows. Yes, there had been a bomb, and a follow-up attack could shatter the glass dangerously.

By now, apart from distant sirens, it was unsettlingly quiet outside. And our mobile phones had stopped working. The rumour started that the emergency services had commandeered the network, although it might have just been overload.

Around lunchtime, I was called across the estate to a senior managers’ meeting. Yes, there had been a number of bombs, and and many casualties. There was a need to keep people inside while the emergency services worked. Then, mid-afternoon, we would all be needed to help the visitors leave and give them directions. This was mid-summer, and there were 15-18,000 visitors on site, many from overseas. We needed to help them understand how to get home, or to their hotels, in the absence of any public transport.

(During the briefing, I finally received a call from my son at school (they had sensibly let the children use their mobiles) – so I could tell him I was OK, and he could pass the message on to the rest of the family).

Once the Museum was empty, we left, too. I remember walking with others through an eerily quiet city. Finally managing to grab a bus home near Elephant and Castle.

The Mayor, Ken Livingstone, was on the news. He was in Singapore – the day before, he had been celebrating London winning the right to host the 2012 Olympics. He looked tired, but he gave the best speech of his life.

I want to say one thing specifically to the world today. This was not a terrorist attack against the mighty and the powerful. It was not aimed at Presidents or Prime Ministers. It was aimed at ordinary, working-class Londoners, black and white, Muslim and Christian, Hindu and Jew, young and old. It was an indiscriminate attempt to slaughter, irrespective of any considerations for age, for class, for religion, or whatever...

Londoners will not be divided by this cowardly attack. They will stand together in solidarity alongside those who have been injured and those who have been bereaved and that is why I'm proud to be the mayor of that city.

Yet there was an increase in racist attacks over the following days.

The next day, I think it was, I was on the bus to work, and the atmosphere was very jittery. Years later, I had a letter published in the Guardian about how the marvellous Betty Boothroyd stood up then, and helped everyone stay calm. (This was written a few days after the Manchester Arena bombing).

A week later, several other attacks were attempted, and failed, more by chance than effective security.

Boris in Space

Back in July last year, Johnsom was waffling on about how, given that we could put a man on the moon in the 60s, how hard could Brexit be?  At the time, I thought the comparison was pretty stupid and revealed rather more than the man himself realised.  See my Letter on the topic.

Still pursuing the space metaphor, the chocolate teapot named his proposed ramping up of testing capacity in the UK as 'Project Moonshot' - only for it to be quietly cancelled a few days later.

And we also know that Brexit has already cost more than the International Space Station (see the London Economic Journal article).

Pleasingly, it at least gives Steve Bell the chance to take the piss.

Letters 2

If the first letter I had published in the Grauniad was in response to the Wannacry incident, the second, also in May 2017, was a response to the London Bridge terror attack.

Part of me still thinks they were only published because of the decline of print media, and the press in particular, so there is less competition to get on the letters page.

Here it is. Another true story:-

On 7 July, 2005 I was working in central London, at the British Museum. From my office I heard the Tavistock Square bus bomb go off. Much of the rest of the day was eerily quiet. The heart of London was sealed off. No traffic hum. After we’d helped the visitors leave, the museum was closed and we walked away, going home with no public transport.

A day or so later, I came in by train to Victoria, and took the bus across the centre of town to work. Everyone seemed tense. We all had rucksacks, and suspicious, worried looks were shared in silence. Then a grey-haired woman stood up at the front of the bus, and started chatting. She said hello to everyone as she walked down the aisle, asking how people were and sometimes resting her hand gently on people’s shoulders. After a second, we started to smile, and chat back. She was so warm and relaxed. She wanted to put people at ease, and she succeeded. It may have been just my imagination, but I felt the anxiety drain away.

It was Betty Boothroyd. Baroness Boothroyd, ex-Labour MP, ex-Speaker of the House of Commons, and then-chancellor of the Open University (and ex-Tiller girl). She’d just seen the right thing to do, and acted. Calming anxieties, building a sense of common humanity. We need some of that now.

Upstairs

Automatic message on the P12 last night:

"There are more seats available upstairs".

Developing the Centre of Nunhead? Not like this!

So after yesterday's parents evening, while waiting for chips, we called in on the consultation about Nunhead Green and the proposed new developments.

This was quite unpleasant.  It didn't feel like a consultaion, really. 

The people there were too keen on the arguments for their proposals, and did not seem to really listen to the concerns of local people.  Whenever we asked a detailed question (eg what are you proposing for the pavement there, what will the slope be like for pedestrians in wheelchairs?  What trees did you mean to grow, and why? (I admit TANH asked a lot about trees; but it is our remit)?  Why has so little grass been retained?  Why so much space for cars, which are neither needed nor wanted?  How does this help meet green targets?  What about the option of turning this into an extension of the Green - can we see that proposal please? ).  Also: if we have to build houses, what will be the typical sale price for the dwellings and how can we halve it?),  they were defensive and unhelpful.  Overall not very good at all.

There should have been independents consulting, not the architects.  In fact I do not believe it helped having the architect there at all.  Pompous and patronising.

A simple example: I asked about the access for the cars and how they would ensure - across the whole pavement - that pedestrians, buggys, wheelchair users would not be inconvenienced.  So no slopes in the pavement.  They failed to answer the question and started talking about the quality of the stone work.  I said that was not helpfull, and actually the pavement should have precedence over the cars (as in National guidance).  They should not put their 'fancy' stonework over the pavement.  They admitted after lots of pressure they hadn't thought about it - and recorded nothing of the dialogue.  So second rate, I thought.

They should have been noting down comments on the spot, not expecting written submissions from people who were pressed for time. 

Overall,  poor I thought in terms of process.

I loathed parts of the architectural solution (like the roof of the hall and the tall chimneys, the excessive car parking (oh, I appear to have mentioned that already)).  They didn't seem to listen.

Another element missing was any discussion of the traffic and disruption that will be caused by building all that stuff.  What are the access requirements, how many lorries per day and for how long?  What are the implications for traffic, polution, pedestrians, etc?

On the plus side, they do seem to have protected a few of the trees - the Chinese Willow and sycamores.  But not all of them.

Sigh. As is clear, I've written this in a rush, and only voiced half my concerns, and the ones I have described I could have explained much better.  Still, I hope the point has been got across. 

Where are the press when you need them?

Express

There is a shop on Nunhead Lane called the Nunhead Express.  Funny, I always thought that was the 78.

343

I have a vague memory that some years ago I corrected the Wikipedia entry on Nunhead by adding a reference to the 343 bus - that key transport connection for Upper Nunhead.

So I was very pleased to see the 343 mentioned in today's Guardian (albeit in the Loomus cartoon, offstage, being chased by a giant dog...)

"New" 12

I've just seen one of the new No. 12s put on by that oik Boris Johnson.  The man is a clown. 

The bendy buses weren't to everyone's tastes (drivers and cyclists said they hated them, although I didn't mind them), but they were popular with the people they wee aimed at - the passengers. 

Now the fool has gone and replaced them, as he said he would, with a new-variant, second-rate double decker.  I've just watched a couple on Rye Lane.  They take forever to load and unload, the gangways look narrow and constricting, and they carry (it seems) far fewer people. 

Idiot.

Paris 6: Montmartre, Sacre Couer

So that evening we went to Pigalle (fleshpots, basically - think Soho) and caught the joyous little MontMartrobus (think P12) up the hill.  We missed the stop the first time around and ended up on the other side (Mairie du 18e – Jules Joffrin). 

So we had to change busses, but luckily the tickets were still valid so we raced up the other way. This explains.

Anyway, whether you walk, bus or travel by funiculaire (or cycle - we saw some of those too), at the top of the butte is Sacre Couer:

- which is pretty fantastic (if incredibly touristy).

And this view:

The one thing that surprised us was that we couldn't see the Eiffel Tower from where we stood - the angle is probably all wrong.

Then we wandered down past artists, restaurants and twee shops. 

If the top is touristy, this was the same, many times over.  For a while we sat outside a little bistro (La Boheme), on Rue de Mont Cenis and watched street theatre - in the widest sense.   I like all this; the rest of the family perhaps less so. 

We wandered amongst the artists in the Place du Tertre (lots of easels; offering to paint/draw/caricature anyone that moves - for the right fee). 

Then we stopped for a meal in a terriffic pizza / French restaurant with a live piano player (who included some fun stuff in his repertoire and turned out to be English), on the corner of Rue Norvins and Rue Poulbot (La Petaudiere).

We finally descended precipitously to the nearest Metro, before heading back to Wagram...

Jumping...

The 78 was of course a double decker bus in the past - but it appears not to have headed into Nunhead then.  Online there has been some discussion about whether the route will change in Nunhead with the move back to big buses (because of the low bridge), but apparently (thankfully) not.  The route will stay as it is.  Useful and interesting.

Indeed, according to Wikipedia:

In December 1952, a number 78 double-decker bus was crossing Tower Bridge. At that time, the gateman would ring a warning bell and close the gates when the bridge was clear before the watchman ordered the lift. The process failed while a relief watchman was on duty. The bus was near the edge of the south bascule when it started to rise; driver Albert Gunter made a split-second decision to accelerate the bus, clearing a six-foot drop onto the north bascule, which had not started to rise. The conductor broke his leg, and twelve of the twenty passengers aboard received minor injuries. The driver was later rewarded with a £10 bonus.

Wikipedia also provides a link to the news story that Time magazine carried on the same event.

So clearly, in addition holding more passengers, the 78 may well bring a new sense of exhilaration when it crosses the Thames...

Spring Bus

It's Spring, and things are shooting up.  Including, it appears, the 78 bus. Which is now a double decker...

I've had a go on one...

So now I've had a go on one of the new 484s.  A certain clunky retro 1980s feel to it.  Like a bus in red braces and a stripey shirt.  This is not a good thing...

More 484 News

And now I'm told the other wonderful new thing about the 484 is that - from yesterday - it has a brand spanking eco-friendly design.

So maybe the Z-route was just an advertising ploy?  I think we should be told.

The Zed Bus

Or at least that's what the temporary roadworks yesterday evening in the East Dulwich Road turned the 484 into.  Caused by a gas leak apparently, it meant that EDR became one-way westwards.  Hence the 484 I jumped onto at East Dulwich station had to divert.

And what a diversion it was.  We went all the way up Lordship Lane to Dulwich Library / The Plough, and then down Barry Rd.  And at each bus stop the driver stopped and explained to all and sundry what he was doing and how his new route worked.

Back at the Rye end of Barry Road, we went down the Rye to Nigel Rd, which was the first point where a right turn was legal.  And then back up the other side of the Rye. So it became the first bus to serve both sides of the Rye. Marvellous.

So I call it the Z-Bus.  If you squint at the new route it looks a bit like a backwards Z.

Like this:

View Larger Map
So finally we have a route that connects The Vale, Bishop, Plough, Clock House, Rye Hotel and Brockley Barge.  Just what the area needed, really. 

And it was making request stops at those places - or at least, when someone rang the bell it pulled up just outside the Rye Hotel, where there is no stop.  So it must be.

The 484 has a strange enough route anyway - at least near the Lewisham end. So I think they should stick with this.

Evening on the Rye

So I wandered out on to the Rye a few evenings ago.  The church spire is St John's by Goose Green.

This tree sits lonely in the middle of this part of the Rye.

The bark is interesting, close up.

Although the automatic flash rather ruined the textures in this shot - I didn't have a tripod with me.:

Getting darker.  The white building on the far right is the converted King's on the Rye pub.

And darker still.

This path cuts diagonally across the Rye, from broadly the Clock House to Nunhead Lane.

But by then it was so dark that a 343 bus on the East side just appeared as faint lights to the camera (on a normal setting).

Miracle

Last night we went to see Miracle in the basement of the Leicester Square Theatre.

I say we - I really mean the people who spend too much time with Tim W in the Nun's Head.

Tim was playing the bombastic actor-manager male lead alongside an entrancing Susannah York and a scary Lynne Miller. Acording to the review I read, the secondary parts were poorly played, but I didn't think so.

The play was translated from the original Afrikaans (quite well) and is the story of a troupe of down-at-heel actors preparing to play Everyman in the crypt of a church.

They dress the stage themselves, including another variant on one of the unicorn tapestries (not exactly the same). At moments the play caught some of the eerie quality of the medieval original.

After, we went to The French House on Dean Street for red wine and caught the bus home.

A fun evening. Now all I want to do is to watch Everyman.

Nighttime on Peckham Rye

Last weekend I went out onto the Rye to take these images. It was ten o'clock or so at night, and it felt a little lonely. You can see across the whole Rye from where I was standing, but I still kept looking around to see if I was being crept up upon.
For me this has a slightly Edward Hopper-ish feel to it, especially as in Nighthawks.
This nex one didn't turn out as intended, but I still like the messy lines of light on the bus going past Kings on the Rye.
This is what I had intended.
I also wanted to try to capture a sense of movement with the long exposures, but I think I only achieved it to any real extent with the next two - and particularly the first. The cars and people passing on the near side of the road have disappeared, and left streaks of light around the bus and cars waiting for the traffic lights.

And one final experiment - which shows why you need to use a tripod!