The Number 435 Route - Not

The Number 435 used to run from Southall to Heathrow, but was abolished  in March 2008 as part of the rearranging of travel that came with the opening of Terminal 5.  There's a great picture of one here. We are always pleased to know why and when a bus has disappeared, and we do check that they have not reappeared since we started the project.  It's especially sad when a double decker goes, as the views from single deckers are not as good, and the windows often dirtier, being nearer to the road splashing.

 Of course one of the things you see more clearly from the top floor is front gardens.  Sometimes we have seen beautiful front gardens, sometimes the odd wonderful plant, like the ceanothus and wisteria we glimpsed from the 15 all those years ago.  And sometimes we have enjoyed displays of garden ornaments, but passed too quickly to get the camera ready for gnomes, ducks, abstract forms or whatever.


There are times when the teacher in me mutters 'could do better' but of course people are busy and cutting the grass and controlling the shrubs may be all there is time for.

What we like least is the totally hardened front garden, though of course if you live on a busy road, which is a bus route, the only other option would be to sell the car.

There are rules about this, dating back to 2008, when the government, worried about flooding, tried to ensure that only permeable materials were used, but newspapers go on reporting the problem, like the Telegraph earlier in 2012.

And public spending cuts are likely to lead to less enforcement rather than more, so those of us lucky to have Freedom Passes and therefore use our cars less (or indeed, not at all) can't really go all pompous about wanting pretty gardens to enjoy on our bus rides

The Number 434 Route

Monday 12 November 2012

Today’s bus ride did not start too well.  Only Linda had dressed for today’s weather rather than yesterday’s. So Mary and I were a bit cold as we walked through drizzle from Whyteleafe South Station to the start of the route of the twice an hour bus which would take us to Coulsdon.  The bus map suggested that it started at Wapses Lodge roundabout, so we passed the request stop and headed for the roundabout.  But no! the bus that we had seen waiting the other side of the road set off, looped round the roundabout, and swept past the stop where we had been but a few seconds before.  Teeth were gnashed, but eventually, or rather at 11.00 am, two frozen and one slightly chilled person got onto the single decker, to set off back past Whyteleafe South Station.  (Who made these rules…?  Oh yes, we did)

 We liked the flint faced houses of Whyteleafe, and were able to detect some lovely autumn colour through the murky weather.  There were a few shops in Whtyleafe with good names, like 'Ringlets' the hair stylist, and we enjoyed crossing the level crossing on the road, having previously crossed it on the train. The names of the stations had been strangely familiar, as my parents and Linda's and Mary's in-laws had lived in Purley, so the sequence of stations in the announcements, unchanged in nearly 50 years, rang many bells.

We turned up Church Hill, past the attractive wych gate of the church, and wiggled through residential areas of varying affluence, with fine views over to the downs.  The large chalky former quarry was somehow reminiscent of Bluewater, though not utilised for retail.


We came back to the main road to pass Kenley, noting the station and Primary School and also noticing that the larches, although losing their leaves in the way that these deciduous conifers do, were not ill.  We think the larch disease is so far confined to the west of the country.  We did pass Bader Close, and wondered if the name referenced the RAF activities around here during the Second World War, though Douglas Bader seems to have been based at Duxford and Coltishall, rather than Biggin Hill.

Again we turned off to loop through residential areas.  This bus clearly takes people to do their shopping, as there were no shops up on the leafy hills with the fine views across the valley.

After some miles, or so it seemed, of suburban homes, we got back to the main road, and headed on into Purley.  I had enjoyed the privet hedges: my father had been proud to quote the P G Wodehouse simile 'straight as a privet hedge in Purley' though I am not sure which book it comes from.

We noticed that 'My old China' restaurant had closed down, but 'Ten Tonne Tattoo' was still there.  I don't think they had tattoo parlours in Purley in my parents' time, but of course tattooing was not as fashionable - or socially acceptable -as it is now.

We had a change of driver at the enormous Tescoes, where our bus both emptied and then filled again.  So we once again headed up into the residential streets to drop the new passengers and their shopping off.  Some of the houses were very large, and clearly belonged to car owners, since they had hardened their front gardens;  but perhaps the cars go to work and shoppers take the bus.  This was again a Hail and Ride section, and the driver was generous with his number of stops for people with heavy bags of groceries

We liked 'Stoats Nest Road' as we did not picture stoats having nests, more burrows;  it turns out they use the burrows of their prey, in rather a cuckoo-ish way, but within that the maternity ward space is indeed called a nest.

Coming into Coulsdon, a small town with two railway stations, we thought that, even on a sunny day, Nonna Rosa's outdoor seating area might be a little bleak.  But there has to be somewhere for the smokers, of course.

Among the shops, we noticed the Cats' Protection League, which offers free neutering.  A good thing, we felt. (Steve Bird, in a comment below, reminded us of the Roger McGough poem on the subject of the CPL, so here it is) We also liked a chip shop called Mr Chips, and the Rolling On Cycle shop.


We turned off the main road and up the hill, as we had done several times on this journey, passing the tiny Beit Hallel Messianic Synagogue.

This is an American import, which seems to combine some aspects of Torah based worship, with recognising Jesus as the promised Messiah.  Indeed, this one in Coulsdon appears to be - as the Government says about school assemblies - 'Christian in the main'.

Up through the residential areas, with 'hail and ride' again, we came to the very end of Ridgemount Avenue, where our bus stopped.  It was 11.35, and given that the drizzle had now turned to rain, we rode the bus back into Coulsdon.

While there was a certain nostalgia quotient in this journey, I shall not pretend that it was all that exciting, though on a sunny autumn day the trees and gardens would have done much more to lift the spirits.

The Number 433 Route (Not)

(There is a Kent Route that goes from New Ash Green to Bluewater that seems to have this number?)

Whew – this thinking of ‘fillers’ for non-routes, but still making them vaguely relevant is HARD WORK. Thanks to Jo who gave me a pointer to Diamond Geezer’s link to the gallery of the man who is photographing people at bus stops, which has a charm of its own, and led me to think about bus stops, and then the Hollies’ song  'Bus Stop'. 

I seemed to spend so much time waiting for buses on the way home from school in the Sixties, that I used to fantasize that I would meet the love of my life at the bus stop, otherwise what was the point?. By the time the Hollies had the same idea I was no longer a daily bus user and when I returned to London I had met the love of my life (aah everybody) so bus stops became a countdown on the daily commutes between work and home. Work involved travelling round London’s estates and being stranded not knowing when the next one might come along. I have been known to kick the concrete as I stand there (should have walked) knowing I was going to be late for my date.

Waiting continued as I did the rounds of pre-school entertainments for toddlers – 1 o’clock clubs/ play parks/museums. You have 1 minute to fold your buggy and get two children aboard and in those days they were expected to stand or sit on your lap, if the bus was crowded. Cold weather, long waits and just toilet-trained children are not a good mix.

Then they started using buses on their own and claim certain stops as ‘My Bus Stop’ on the 63 Route even now. 

But look at us now – many more bus shelters, timetables on all bus stops, maps of the locality with important local features noted, and seats. Even better was the advent of the countdown – I know they have their moments and buses do occasionally disappear off the radar, but at least you could make an informed decision about whether to wait, take an alternative route or walk.

Every bus stop has its unique number and from last year you could text this to TFL and they would send you the times the next routes would be arriving; it costs but worth it if you have a deadline to meet. I cannot think how many bus stops there are in London and how much work this was to set up. Thanks TFL.

Now those with Smartphones can use a range of Apps to access the same bus arrival information ‘for free’ (or as part of their monthly contract – nothing is really free) so we are almost overwhelmed with information.

But still a bus stop is a bus stop – the would-be passengers chew / sit / fiddle / wait / lounge / eat (boy do they eat) / chat / scold or praise their children / fight from time to time.  For the elderly they are a social occasion as it gives you an excuse to start a conversation asking the question, ‘Have you been here long?’ The queues have become shapeless but largely good tempered, so you can see why they might appeal to a photographer.

I will just add a collage of bus stops, as I cannot compete with his more artistic efforts.     

The Number 432 Route

Brixton  Station to Anerley Station 
Thursday November 12^th 2011

Our usual punctual meeting had been disrupted by a failure in the Victoria Line which meant Jo had walked down from Stockwell, not a major hardship on quite a mild autumn day, and we met at the first stop near to the Police Station – by the time this is blogged this will definitely be our last route through or starting/ending in Brixton** so marks another major landmark as Brixton is such a hub. For Jo, who had ridden the Number 2 alone, this was quite pleasantly nostalgic, more pedestrian for Linda for whom Brixton used to be the ‘go-to’ Underground Station.

The traffic flow in Brixton has certainly improved and all those road works so evident on our earlier routes through here – the 2 and 37 for example – are complete and seem to have improved things. Brixton is always busy and the market was just getting going so no shortage of people passing through. The Ritzy continues to offer good viewing as an excellent Independent Cinema and manages to combine showing more obvious choices with smaller gems you might not find elsewhere.

The route, downhill, to Tulse Hill has both extensive social housing and larger older properties; St Martin’s in the Field’s School is in a lovely old building though doubtless they would rather have something more modern and prizewinning along the lines of the Evelyn Grace Academy in Brixton. More modern is the Primary Jubilee School opposite. 

PS I think Zaha Hadid inverted her designs for the Olympic Pool here, but how wonderful to have such an exciting building to work in. 

Today the traffic continued to flow well (always easier coming out of central London) and we negotiated the major Tulse Hill interchange with the South Circular pretty smartly and headed on down to West Norwood. Jo spotted an interesting change of use from corner built bank chambers to a car showroom… the plasterwork on many of the buildings is quite fine but sadly polluted.

West Norwood means the 4^th Apostle Church – this time St Luke’s (having passed he back of St. Matthew’s in Brixton).  Interestingly all four early 19^th century churches now occupy strategic positions in traffic flows and  key road junctions  – the result I suppose of the then architect wanting them to be seen from afar down broad sweeps. Just adjacent is West Norwood cemetery, one of the ‘Magnificent Seven’ built to cope with inner London ‘overflow ‘ (both of bodies and noxious matter).  Some of the well known people buried there include Isabella Beeton (probably given syphilis by her erring husband: advice not included in her ‘Household Management’). Julius de Reuter without whom we would not have news agencies (I guess nowadays he would start up a Twitter Newsfeed), and James Greathead, the engineer who devised the deep tunnel bore that allowed the depth of digging to achieve many of the Underground lines. There are of course more but try the quite garish link and see if you can guess the people from the montage.

Unlike the other buses, which here take the left fork, the 432 carries on along Elder Road and this proved to be something of a treat. Smaller cottages by Pilgrim Hill and the rather surprising Boat House which seems to reference the lost River Effra which ran near here.

Lost rivers and walking them being something of a recent theme, you might enjoy this  link also. 

All this talk of hills and we had been DOWN to Tulse Hill then UP to West Norwood and further UP towards Crystal Palace via the rest of Elder Road until it joins Central Hill. At the speed we were going it was difficult to tell whether Elderwood Place was a restored older build or more modern – given that it is described as a ‘gated community’ that would be the latter then – with views over Norwood Park looking calm and autumnal, not a combination you often get.

By now we were up on Central Hill – to the right the older properties and to the left the more recent (but actually late Sixties build) Central Hill Estate – today we were on a double-decker and though misty the views over outer South East London were excellent.  Though we have mentioned this before Central Hill houses the Pear Tree Bunker.

We even passed along the usually very congested Westow Hill (it’s all those restaurants) at a good speed and were soon on the crest of Crystal Palace noting the footings to the former exhibition halls, which gave this whole area it s name, as we made the steep descent to Anerley.

If you raise your eyes above the mediocre run of kebab and liquor shops there are some fine solid buildings in Anerley – mainly grand villas now sub-divided but still standing proud – see here for how they would have looked before.

Bromley Borough (for that is where this route ends) had sold off the little Town Hall which is where the bus turns left into a suitable side street for disgorging its (very few) passengers, conveniently close to Anerley Station.  Jo was intrigued as she had passed through on the Overground but this was an opportunity to see the real above ground (as actually the train runs in quite a deep cutting round and through Crystal Palace.

So we had completed this very straight trip in about 35 minutes, and had only to cross the road to reach our second (but numerically earlier) bus of the day. 

** Rules Committee has since committed to some Letter Routes, two of which run close to Brixton so not ‘last’ after all.  

The Number 431 Route – Not

As we trundle around London, we frequently cross the smaller rivers and waterways that wriggle through the capital, and usually try to refer to them.  But of course there are often rivers flowing undetected beneath our routes.  A number of books have been written about London’s lost rivers, but probably the most useful, if you want to get close to them, is Tom Bolton’s London’s Lost Rivers, A Walker’s Guide. 

He offers eight walks, from the Fleet leaving Hampstead Heath in the north, to the Wandle flowing northwards from South Croydon:  and he tells you where they are, even if they can’t be seen.  You would, for instance, have to have your eyes skinned as you travelled up Royal College Street in Camden on the 46 bus, if you wanted to glimpse the Fleet flowing under the circular drain cover by the Prince Albert pub .  But if you got off your bus, and bent over the cover, you would both see and hear the river as it heads for the Thames. It's of course much more beautiful away from buses as it starts off at Hampstead Heath Ponds.

The River Peck, too, has an attractive first view in Peckham, having started on One Tree Hill.  It then vanishes underground,  travelling beneath the streets of south London before linking up with the Earls Sluice. This begins its life in Ruskin Park, overshadowed by King's College Hospital.

There are few traces of the Earl's Sluice, except for the occasional dip in the road, or stench pipe, and when it, now united with the Peck, needs to cross the railway, it does it in a pipe!





 Possibly the least known and hardest to trace of the rivers is the Neckinger, which wandered through the marshy areas of Lambeth, starting near the Thames before wandering south and then north again. 

There are fine views to be had of St Paul's Cathedral at the start of the walk, though much of its course in the days when it really was a river would have been fairly nasty, with tanneries, slaughterhouses and mills all making use of its water.

The Neckinger finally enters the Thames at  St Saviour's Dock.

These pictures were all taken by Andrew.  You will find many more if you look at Paul Talling's attractive book London's Lost Rivers

The Number 430 Route

Look, I know this is short, and almost unillustrated, but it was VERY near the start of the project (with the 7 to be precise) and I did not really believe that we would still be blogging and I should need to be writing anything about it.  So apologies, especially to Linda,who always does a thorough job!

6 April 2009

 

Following a pleasant walk through sunny Richmond Park from the south end of Roehampton to the north, at 14.00 we boarded the 430 in Danebury Avenue: not perhaps out loveliest start point, but at least there was no need to get lost as Linda remembers all this area from her Wandsworth days. 

It was a rather smart double decker which was to take us to South Kensington, a journey of greater social that physical distance

Putney Heath was very leafy, with attractive former council properties, and many mini roundabouts.  Along the Upper Richmond Road we passed the place where Captain Lawrence Oates lived (not a genuine Blue Plaque, because it’s not the original house). I suppose his famous and heroic phrase as he stepped out into the Antarctic blizzard ‘I may be some time’ could be seen as a motto for these bus trips.  We turned left to cross the river via Putney Bridge and along Fulham Palace Road. Both Fulham Palace and the Cemetery opposite were looking beautiful, and the we headed up the long expanse of the Fulham Road, then Fulham High Street.  We passed the Temperance Pub:  if you think it an odd name, so did we, and it turns out that it was once a temperance hall, where the most dissipated thing patrons could do was play billiards.

We were making really rapid progress, and zoomed round the often slow area of Earls Court, to reach South Kensington Tube Station by 14.45. The street works around there, which we were seeing for the fist time, had just started.

The Number 429 Route (Not)

The non London routes are coming thick and fast – a bit like my riff for this route. The rules committee had an ‘ad hoc’ meeting  as the Number 429 (Dartford to Swanley, extended twice a day to Crockenhill) appears in the back –corner of the TFL South East London bus map. However we decided it was not truly a TFL route and was probably not red. The fact that Jo had already ridden the 402 was a bonus but should not be seen as a precedent. But here it is should you wish to take it:

Hanging baskets can be considered naff by real gardeners who tend to value specimen and hard-to-grow or sculptural plants over bright perky annuals like geraniums / petunias / sufinias / begonias / impatiens and I could go on.

Anna Pavord seems the exception here.

However if you are travelling through a rather grey part of London on a grey day there is nothing jollier than admiring a serried rank of hanging baskets adorning the lamp-posts, while the traffic grinds to a halt. Similarly those window boxes hung over central reservations to discourage people from vaulting into the traffic are equally prolific and effective. Some outer London boroughs prefer to focus on their roundabouts.

In France they call them ‘Ville Fleurie’ in London it is the local authorities we have to thank for brightening up their town centres and there is an element of competition between them. Local authority (financial) pruning has also been evident with some councils ‘cutting back’ (puns intended) on their green output.

However 2012 saw a new blooming expansion as perhaps austerity measures were lifted somewhat in order to celebrate both the Queen’s Jubilee and the Olympics – and with the Olympic Torch Parade most boroughs had one day in the spotlight and needed to make the most of their media exposure so floral displays came to the fore, with much predictable colour scheming.   

I was also not aware for example that TFL ran its own competition. How can you grow anything at Hampstead Tube Station with its deep shaft and corner site?

The private sector plays along sometimes, and Jo had heard of some research which says if faced with a choice of two similarly located pubs the public will go for the one with window boxes or hanging baskets. Some banks in the city have rather muted and refined window boxes (silver and green, you know the sort of thing)  – they certainly do not want to attract too much attention or let anyone think they can possibly afford to nurture anything except their profits. 

Still we hail and thank all those invisible gardeners who take care of these street offerings, which we can all enjoy.  A shout out too for the Guerrilla Gardener, who has given us many cheering green spots in London particularly round Elephant & Castle, where we have often found ourselves.