england

Trying Out The Bakerloop

The main piece of news I have to share today is that I have ridden a bus. I realise that might not sound particularly exciting, but today I thought I would try out the new Bakerloop bus route. If you haven’t heard of it, the Bakerloop is a new express bus route from Lewisham to Waterloo station. I had been hearing quite a bit about it but on various London public transport YouTube channels, and I thought it might be worth checking out.

Of course, if I had simply wanted to go to Waterloo I would just have taken the good old Jubilee Line: a tried and tested route, and probably a bit quicker. What I found so enticing about this new bus route, though, was that it was instated as a test route ahead of a possible extension of the Bakerloo Line to Lewisham. To be honest that’s a prospect I find rather exciting: Not only would such an extension help to open up south London even more, making getting in to the city centre even easier, but presumably it would also mean that the existing part of the line would be redeveloped and made wheelchair accessible. Whenever such extensions have been created before, the obvious example perhaps being the Jubilee Line itself, the rest of the line has been updated in the process. I really think that is something to be encouraged, which is why I went to Lewisham and caught the bus earlier.

In the end it wasn’t much to write about. The trip just took about half an hour, and before I knew it I was at Waterloo station.  From there I thought I’d have a little trundle along the river,  the Palace of Westminster looking radiant in the sunshine, before crossing the Thames and catching the tube home. Perhaps the biggest advantage busses have over tube lines, though, is that you get to see more of the city you’re passing through, and on my way I caught a glimpse of the vast amounts of building work happening along the Old Kent Road. London is developing ever more quickly. It’s also shrinking, thanks to the initiatives like the one I tried this afternoon. A metropolis which once seemed so vast and daunting now feels increasingly accessible and homelike. 

I’m sure that won’t be the last time I use the Bakerloop: the possibility that it might eventually give rise to something even more substantial really is exciting. Getting across the city is becoming easier and easier, but that slow shift towards modernity will only continue if guys like me actually try out and start to use the improvements being offered.

A Dark Day For London

I am very, very pissed off about what happened here in London yesterday. London is an open, tolerant, welcoming world city, home to thousands of different cultures and people from all over the world; yesterday afternoon saw it’s streets hijacked and trampled by 100,000 mindless morons with no understanding of diversity or value for cultures other than their own. Of course, being me, I went up there yesterday afternoon, although I now wish I hadn’t. At about 11 I set out, taking the Jubilee Line up to Westminster. I had intended to go directly to the counter-protest, but as soon as I got out of the tube station I found myself surrounded by countless flag-waving idiots, many carrying banners which wound me up instantly.

The sight was utterly repugnant. I’ve been to quite a few protests here in London over the years, about a variety of issues. Most of those issues were just and sensible. The gathering of idiots London saw yesterday was neither of those things, but the venting of bile and hate by those too stupid to direct their thoughts and feelings elsewhere. Obviously, I know we should be open-minded and tolerant of those whose views we disagree with – part of valuing diversity is valuing diversity of thought. Yet what I saw yesterday was an insult to those values: most of the people there had been bussed in from across the country; people I doubt had ever met anyone who didn’t speak English as their first language. They were just here to shout and scream, drink larger and hurl abuse. For most of the men I saw yesterday, it was just an exercise in looking ‘hard’: I doubt you could have had any kind of meaningful debate with any of them about the politics at hand. As I found when I went to Canary Wharf a couple of weeks ago, for such people, it seemed to be all about whipping up animosity and social division: demonstrating that they were better than ‘the elites’ – ie those they unconsciously feel inferior or subordinate to. Frankly, it felt like an abject intrusion upon everything that I feel is wonderful about London, like shit being trampled into it’s very streets.

I stayed up there for most of the afternoon. I tried to find the counter-protest, but got lost, eventually crossing the river to the south bank. When I eventually found my way back to Westminster I found the station shut, so I set off for Green Park, trying to avoid the showers. It had been a disturbing, sickening afternoon: I felt very angry indeed about what I had seen, and still do. Such acrid xenophobia has no place here in London, and it felt like the metropolis had been intruded upon by morons with no idea what they were saying. The capital had been hijacked and misrepresented. Surely the country is better than such thuggery; surely we cannot allow the wider world to see us like this. My biggest fear now is whoever organised this gathering of halfwits will feel emboldened and try to do so again. If that happens, those of us capable of rational, independent thought must be ready to show our opposition.

Cable Car Vindication!

I’m suddenly feeling quite pleased with myself, albeit for a fairly random reason. You may remember, a year or two ago, I started talking nonsense about London building new cable cars. I was at least semi-joking, but my reasoning was fairly solid: urban cable-cars would be cheaper and easier to build than brand new tube lines, and probably cause less disruption. Well, it seems I have been vindicated, by Paris no less. According to this video, the Parisians have decided to build a new urban cable car in the south of the city, rather than extending the metro. Their argument goes that it would be cheaper and more efficient than either extending the existing metro line or implementing new bus routes. I think that is a great idea, as gliding over a city is certainly cooler than being driven through it on a crowded bus, or thundering under it on a cacophonous tube train.

Mind you, the cynical teenager voice in the back of my mind is saying that this is just a case of Paris wanting what London has: The cable car in East London glides over the Thames, connecting North Greenwich to The Royal Docks, the O2 Arena to the Excel Centre. Not only is it an efficient way of getting people from one place to the other, it is also a great tourist attraction. The Parisians have clearly looked at it and said “We’ll have some of that!” More to the point, whereas the London cable car crosses the wide Thames River, making the only alternative a bridge or tunnel, the one in Paris won’t cross such an impenetrable geographic feature. The same goes for the cable car in Barcelona, which apparently ferries people up and down quite a steep mountain. In other words, the one in Paris would be pretty much entirely for show, with no physical, practical need for it.

Such cynicism aside though, I still think this is pretty cool, and another reason to go back to the French capital in the not-too-distant future. Who knows, maybe this could be the beginning of such cable cars – even entire networks of them – springing up all over the place. Might they even be the future of urban public transport?

Another Way To Camden

I have just made a discovery which I am rather happy about. I’ve described here before how fond I am of trundling along the Regents Canal. One of the areas the canal passes through, Camden, looked essentially interesting. The thing was, I never had a chance to explore it properly as, by the time I got there, I would already have been wheeling, along the canal for a couple of hours and would need to press on to get home a sensible time.

A couple of days ago though, I noticed that Camden Town had a stop on the Northern Line, and was struck by the idea that if I just got the tube there, exploring the area would become much more straightforward. This morning, then, I headed to North Greenwich tube station, intending to get the jubilee line to London Bridge and then the northern line up to Camden. The problem was, the staff at Greenwich told me that Camden Town station was not wheelchair accessible.

However, the lady helping me then started to look for an alternative route I could use, and soon found that a could take the Mildmay overground line from Stratford to Camden Road. While ramps would need to be arraigned, it would be just as straightforward as my original route. This seemed quite an innovative idea to me though, as the overground is still something I have to get the knack of.

As it turned out, it was a complete non-issue, and I was in Camden within an hour ready to explore. It’s one of those thriving, fascinating areas of the metropolis, the air full of music and delicious smells. Some of the architecture by the canal is intriguing. As soon as I got there I was enthralled; and now I know how easy it is to go back there I certainly intend to.

London, it seems to me, is constantly opening up and becoming more accessible. I’ve been living here for fifteen years, but even during that time things have improved considerably. Using the overground was once totally off limits to wheelchair users; but although I’d still personally prefer it – and indeed the entire tube network – to be completely step free, experiences like today’s demonstrate how far it has gone in the right direction. Thanks to the overground, as well as the Elisabeth Line, which I used to get home, Central London is more accessible than it ever has been. It almost feels like the city is shrinking: what once felt like a vast, unwelcoming urban sprawl now feels more and more like home.

An Afternoon In Westminster

It must be said that yesterday was quite an interesting day for me. I really don’t want to get too bogged down in the politics of it today, as to be honest I have quite complex, ambivalent feelings on the subject; but yesterday afternoon I thought I would pop up to Westminster to check out what was going on with regard to the disability rights/PIP protests. I got up there at about four, and it took me a while to find the protest itself: it wasn’t in Parliament Square as I’d expected, but in a smaller area just off it. Broadly speaking, I went up there mostly to observe rather than protest: while I certainly want to show solidarity to my fellow disabled people, the fact is the welfare budget has grown exponentially with far more people claiming disability-related benefits now than twenty or even ten years ago. That is surely unsustainable, and I think it’s a problem which needs to be dealt with, not just on an economic level but a social one too.

Even so, I wanted to go up there to try to get a better grip of the situation. The bottom line is the welfare state needs protecting. By the time I arrived I think the protest was winding down slightly, but there was still a good number of people there, with a wide range of disabilities. I got talking to a few, and as usual got complemented on my anti-Trump baseball cap. Pretty soon, though, people started to move: it seemed that they were actually going to go into the Houses of Parliament.

That would obviously be too interesting to miss, so of course I followed along and went in with them. I was quite surprised at how simple a process it was, as after a bit of queuing and bag checking, I found myself in the Palace of Westminster, being lead along the corridors to the main lobby. I found the place fascinating, with it’s ornate medieval decorations. Believe it or not I had never been in there before, and I was in awe.

However, it wasn’t long before I began to think about going home. It wasn’t just that it was getting late and I was getting hungry, but I was nervous that if a politician I recognised and disagreed with showed up, I would end up causing a scene. If, for example, Nigel Farage somehow showed up (extremely rare as his appearances in parliament actually are), there was a distinct possibility that I would start shouting or even try to attack the p’tahk. I would then probably be arrested, and the whole evening would have been spoiled. In all, then, I decided it was a good idea for me to head home, and watch how things played out on the evening news.

Notes On A Fixed Lift

Just to follow up on this entry from a couple of weeks ago, not that I think anyone will be particularly interested, but I’m pleased to note that the lifts at Star Lane DLR station are working again. On the whole, it must be said that I’m quite impressed at how quickly TFL seems to fix such things. I have encountered broken lifts several times in the past, only to find them fully functional upon my next visit. Obviously it just goes to show how much money there is in TFL and London in general.

In contrast, this morning on the news I heard that one of the very last potteries in Stoke on Trent is about to close. The item mentioned how the pottery industry there has been decimated, bringing the economy of the entire city with it. As someone who was brought up quite close to Stoke and who visited it regularly as a child, I can’t help being struck by the contrast between London and other parts of the country. I know that manufacturing pottery was once part of the very identity of that area, so it might be difficult to see how it could live on after this decline. But surely with the right investment, Stoke can be as vibrant a place as anywhere.

I see wonderful new things being built every day in the capital; each time I go out I find yet another highly gentrified redeveloped new area as I explore the metropolis using it’s state-of-the-art, multi-billion pound transport network (the overground notwithstanding). I know I have touched on this before, but to what extent does all this come at the expense of elsewhere in the country? Frankly, it sounds more and more like places such as Stoke are being left to go to ruin while the front facade of the nation, it’s capital, is endlessly spruced up.

The Wonders of Windsor

The week is turning out to be quite an awesome one, thanks largely to John: great bit of cinema, a fantastic evening at the theatre, and yesterday, a wonderful trip to Windsor. To be honest I was feeling slightly cynical about even getting there at one point, as it meant taking the overground and booking ramps. Our train was slightly delayed, so I was starting to think that it could all become pretty farcical. But we got there in the end, and almost instantly I was mesmerised.

Windsor is a wonderful, beautiful place where you can almost smell the history. The town, with it’s pretty little streets, overlooks the Thames, much narrower there than at Greenwich of course. We spent a while looking around, trying to avoid crashing into the hundreds of tourists, before going up to the castle. Windsor Castle is a stunning place – if you have never visited I would recommend it. It is the longest occupied Royal Residence, and has stood for almost a thousand years. The displays in there are jaw-dropping: paintings, models, antiques, and, most fascinating of all, genuine suits of armour. I was captivated. The cool thing is, despite it’s age, it has all been made wheelchair accessible, so I was able to explore like anyone else.

John and I spent about an hour walking around the castle, before going down to Windsor park. To be honest by then I had one eye on my powerchair’s battery gauge as I really didn’t want any more catastrophes, but it was fine. Windsor Park is an incredible place, as beautiful as anywhere I’ve ever been to: there is a long, straight path we spent an hour or so walking down. John took lots of spellbindingly beautiful photos, and I stopped a few times to type a bit. By then, though, it was starting to get late, and I think we were both getting tired, so we caught the train home.

Windsor, then, is a wonderful place: not part of London and certainly feeling quite separate from the metropolis, but close enough to it that we could get there fairly easily. It was a place I had never been to, despite it’s proximity to London; but it certainly whetted my appetite for getting out of the city a bit more.

Meeting the JPF (or PFJ)

Today turned out to be rather more interesting than I expected. As usual these days, I almost instantly flew into a rage when I turned the news on this morning. What happened at the White House yesterday really was repugnant, enough to make me feel I had to do something.

I looked up the route to the American embassy. Quite what I would do once I got there I had no idea, but I could sort that out in due course: Part of me just felt compelled to go and somehow insist that they immediately replace Donald Trump with someone who isn’t a gut-wrenching disgrace to human civilisation. The route seemed simple enough: jubilee line to London Bridge, and then the northern line to Battersea Power Station.

That’s how, at about one this afternoon, I found myself at the American embassy on the south bank of the Thames. Unfortunately, fool that I am, I hadn’t considered the fact that the embassy would be shut for the weekend and nobody would be there. The trip was not completely in vain though, as I got to explore a part of London I hadn’t been to before, full of dazzling new buildings.

I was just beginning to think about my route home though, when I noticed a group of protesters across the road. They were campaigning about Palestine, and were holding some kind of meeting. Mostly out of curiosity, and wanting to do something interesting with my Saturday afternoon, I thought I would cross the road and say hi. What is currently happening in Israel is a thorny, complex issue of course, which is why I try to veer away from it here; but on the whole I have a lot of sympathy with the Palestinian cause.

Frankly, what followed was rather curious. The group I had come across was made of good, kind people, clearly very concerned about what they not unjustly termed an Aphartied. I doubt any intelligent, well informed person could be anything but sickened by what Is currently happening in the Middle East. It might be simply because I rewatched The Life Of Brian last night though, but I couldn’t help being reminded of the famous scene about the Judean Peoples Front: that is to say, there was a lot of talking going on, but I fear that it will ultimately achieve nothing. It obviously helped the people there feel like they were doing something, but at the end of the day, how could a small meeting of Londoner on the banks of the Thames possibly influence such a complex, horrific conflict?