The Number 469 Route

Thursday 20 October 2011

Starting again from the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Woolwich (we had been in and out and back in again on earlier buses),  Linda and I climbed on our third single decker of the day at 12.00, headed for Erith.

Turning onto Stadium Road, which seems always to have been called that, but now contains the strange lilo-effect shooting centre.  Then it was the Woolwich-typically-named Ha-Ha Road, Artillery House (apartments) and Grand Depot Road,  to reach the town centre, with the huge building site and a hairdresser called ‘in God we Trust Consolidate Barbers’.  We did also see one called, rather derivatively, ‘Beyond the Fringe’.  Those of us old enough to remember Dudand Pete and Jonathan Miller and Alan Bennett  can’t help wondering whether clients with the scissors at their neck know where the name comes from.  We soon passed Woolwich Arsenal Station, not for the first time today, and came to Plumstead Station soon afterwards.  We were impressed by the punning abilities of the Paan shop proprietor.

Next we came to Plumstead.  Those of us who like Trollope find it oddly different from the smug rectory at Plumstead Episcopi.  The modern Police Station is huge, dominating the street, but we passed smoothly on and soon were in Abbey Wood, where our day had begun.  We were interested to see William Temple Church:  most Anglican churches are named for pre-reformation saints or with some reference to the Divinity.  Soon we came to the Catholic Church of St David, embellished with a fine depiction of Dewi Sant (as I was taught to call him by a welsh colleague long ago)

Passing signs to the great Crossness Pumping Station I enthused about how wonderful the beam engines are, and am pleased to see that you no longer have to wait for Open London weekend to visit.

 The Lidl we next passed was probably even bigger than Crossness, a temple to retail to match the temple to sewage, and then we were past the station and heading towards Lesnes Abbey, though, being in a single decker, we could see very little of the ruins in the pleasant open space.  

Abbey Wood turns into Belvedere without pausing, but the Working Men’s Club was labelled so we knew we were there even before we passed the station.  We again puzzled at the strangely named Halt Robin Lane, before passing the Guru Nanak  Darbar Sikh Temple and travelling along Church Manor Way to reach Erith High Street,  the Riverside Gardens and the Playhouse.  We arrived at the end point of our journey at 12.55 ready to step onto our final bus of the day.

The Number 468 Route

Monday 8 November 2010

When I tell you that we (Linda and I, Mary being in New York) took a bus for the short distance between the end of the 119 and the start of the 468, you may begin to have an inkling of how foul the weather was.  Still, the 468 has a certain nostalgia value, as it is the extension of the 68, the first ever ‘return journey’ we made, from the Number 2 route, back in spring 2009.

At least the Swan and Sugarloaf pub where this bus starts, still exists.  We have met a number of bus stops that have outlived their pubs. And we were onto our third bus of the day by 12.30,  destination Elephant and Castle.

As we went through Croydon we noticed the many empty office blocks.  Linda mused that people do not seem to have grasped that offices are over: a meeting room, a laptop with skype, some secure computer file storage and there you are. But we also passed the Clock Tower with its excellent Museum and war memorial, and admired Croydon Council’s poppies, everywhere (pic).

Along that busy bit of road that goes past the back of the Whitgift Centre, we spotted a chilling notice on the central reservation railings:  ‘people have been killed on this road USE The SUBWAY’. Heading out of Croydon, apparently straight for the Crystal Palace mast, where our day began, we wondered whether the handsome boarded up and scaffolded houses were being refurbished or merely prepared for demolition, and the web does not provide an answer.  It may all be over by the time you read this.  They may also have sorted out the worse-than-useless cycle lane along Wellesley Road  but I doubt if the UK Border Agency’s HQ will have vanished. The Croydon Sickle Cell and Thalassaemia Centre is also along here.

We were interested to see on the bus stops that the X68 comes along this road, in weekday rush hours, with ‘no set down until Waterloo’.  Do they lock the doors, we wondered.  Perhaps we shall find out if we reach the X buses.

Selhurst Park Stadium reminded us that, sadly, Crystal Palace is at the bottom of the Championship at the moment, something else that we hope may have changed by the time you read this. (and lo!  they are third!) The we passed Spurgeon’s College, training people for Christian missionary work  before moving on, through large and well maintained houses, and past a street called ‘Biggin Hill’  which could be very confusing.  St Joseph’s College, with its substantial grounds, led us to Knights Hill and Knight’s Hill Woods, and so into Tulse Hill.  The street names were rather George Eliot, as we were into the Deronda Estate, but some of the shop names were equally entertaining, and the various Caribbean Food shops were also interestingly named, amongst them the Patty King, the Trinishack and the Divine. 

 

The bus was pretty full, with lots of people upstairs, as we reached Brockwell Park, then Ruskin Park,  where Andrew and the Bloomsbury Woodwind Ensemble sometimes perform in the summer, and then King’s College Hospital and the Maudsley.

As we passed Camberwell Green, we remarked upon a number of religious establishments:  a former pub has become an Islamic Centre, the All Nations Church says that it is the Garden of Success, and the Power Church International announces itself as a ‘Place of Divine Solution’.

The housing stock along here ranges from the rather forbidding public type to pleasant and leafy private houses

We were also held up by a rather unhelpful Halford's lorry attempting a turn where none was possible

On a more secular level, the Christmas decorations were up (I’m not sure if they had been there since last year) but not lit.  Presumably by the time you read this, such things will have been swept away by the austerity police.

Coming up from Camberwell we had views of the new Strata Tower, and wondered why its wind turbine weren’t working on this cold, wet and windy day.  Perhaps more interesting were the Temple Bar Pub, with its sign showing a depressed man in the dock although it is an Irish pub and so has resonances with the more famous Temple Bar in Dublin, and the Beaten Path Pub with a fine new frontage explained by the fact that it used to be The Prince Alfred. 

Newington Library was a confusing name for North Londoners, but Linda pointed out that Newington Butts and Newington Causeway were here too.

We also passed a sign to the Chaplin Centre, named for a former resident, but nothing more exciting than the Council offices for environment, parking and so on, before reaching Elephant and Castle, with the continuing road works, and the end of our journey at 13.35. 

The Number 467 Route

Wednesday 19 December 2012

When Mary, Linda and I reached Epsom Clock Tower, by another route about which you will read in due course,  we were prepared to be depressed, or even shop in Lakeland, as the 467 is a once-an-hour bus after the many journeys it makes to school or work earlier in the day.  But to our delight we had only a five minute wait for the 10.49, which rolled up bang on time, and was a double decker.  And it felt warm, which was an added bonus, on this grey day, with the rain barely holding off till the end of the route.  We liked the imposing tailor's in the middle of Epsom, and were prepared to award a B+ to the lamp post decorations.

We whipped at a good pace along the road towards Ewell, passing many 'offices-to-let' signs, interspersed with  building sites which, we fervently hoped, were for homes not more offices.  Two of the well kept pubs we passed were the King's Arms, clearly newly done up, and the Green Man (or Famous Green Man, as it appears to call itself) with rather a fine inn sign of the mystic creature peering through foliage.  The speed of the bus made photography rather difficult, but you can see him on their website.


Turning left along the Epsom road, we were impressed by the size of the houses, and the general prosperity of the area was further confirmed by the shops in Ewell Village, including an ironing service.  The parade of shops in Ewell dates from the 1935 Jubilee.  Poor old George V was the first monarch to call himself Windsor, German names becoming suddenly unfashionable in 1914.  He also lasted for less than a year after celebrating 25 years on the throne, and his death caused all that Abdication trouble


The route then takes a loop round Bourne Hall, with its garden centre, as well as a library and other facilities, before reaching Ewell West Station, with a newish block of flats extremely convenient for the station.


This area is mostly residential now, but it was once at the centre of a cluster of mental hospitals.  One of them, Horton Hospital (the name retained for the local country park) used in the 1920s to offer malaria therapy for people suffering from cerebral syphilis:  apparently being infected with malaria was thought to deal a serious blow to the syphilis bacteria.  I really don't know what to say about this!

We did not stop very often as we headed along these smart residential streets, before coming to Chessington, and the William Bourne Pub, formerly called the Bonegate, and part of  a chain, regardless of its local-sounding name.

We admired some of the magnificent trees, growing both in gardens and in the public areas.  In a way trees are at their handsomest in winter, when you can see their structure. 

The charming little church of St Mary's Chessington has a long recorded history as it was part of the property of the great Merton Abbey, though the church was rebuilt in Victorian times.

Our bus route takes a right towards Hook, rather than sampling the many delights of the World of Adventure, but we were cheered up by a fine, if slightly tipsy, inflatable santa on a double glazing shop, and then by the gnome and santa infested garden of 'Shabby Chic Furniture'.  I did not know that 'shabby chic' was an actual designation:  clearly more television watching is called for, as there are dozens of references to the concept if you type it into your search engine.

 So here we were in Hook, and were the last people on the bus as it reached its terminating point, and failed to get off.  But the charming driver was very tolerant and, as he was heading straight back, took us round the roundabout where the Cap in Hand Pub is, and back towards a railway station.

We had completed our journey in 16 minutes, slightly faster than the advertised timing.  And the rain was only just beginning as we finished.

The Number 466 Route

Caterham-on-the-Hill to Addington Parkway

Thursday December 6th 2012

This was an interesting trip made even more so by our choice of approach. We had finished our previous trip in Reedham and came back down the valley to Purley (where the railway line splits), thawed for about 10 minutes in the waiting room and then taken a train to the end of the other line at Caterham, where they must have known we were coming as they had newly installed/tiled and refurbished platform toilets. The Luxury.  Emboldened we strode up the hill along what we thought was a footpath until we encountered a car. It was steep and therefore afforded slightly misty views back down into the Chipstead valley. A short stroll through Caterham-on-the-Hill brought us to Westway Common and the welcome sight of a red double-decker waiting for us. This is a frequent service though the numbers riding today would have scarcely filled a small single-decker. It was also old and pretty littered – ‘bet this comes out of South Croydon Garage,’ I said: ‘Wait and see’.

We took two sides of the triangle that is Westway Common and admired the sprinkling of snow from afar. The local school and several homes had their Christmas decorations up and then the sight of a notice ‘Hard Hats Must Be Worn’ alerted us to a large building site. Thanks to my ancient A-Z this was clearly the brownfield development on the former St Lawrence Hospital site, where residents, largely those with learning difficulties, once numbered in their thousands, but which closed down in 1994. Perhaps in anticipation of an influx of more residents (though Berkeley tend to go for luxury not density of developments) while chopping some trees down on the way.

There is already a large supermarket plus car park on what seems quite an exposed hill top not far from the aptly named ‘Village Pub’.

Heading north, we were soon crossing Coulsdon Common, which is maintained by the City of London and so almost certainly safe from further housing encroachment. Interestingly the ‘Fox’ pub has a photo (most pub signs are painted) of said animal on its sign – I’m surprised the fox did not stay to pose as they are so brazen and fearless. Green spaces abound with the John Fisher Rugby Ground, Stoneyfield Shaw and eventually after the crossroads Coulsdon Pond and Coulsdon Manor which proves to be a hotel with golf or possibly golf with a hotel.

Nearby Marlpit Lane reminded us that farming folk used to have to mix in marl to make the clay more workable. Talking of unusual names, we found ourselves heading down the very steep Stoats Nest Road, researched by Jo on an earlier route – basically stoats are the cuckoos of the small mammal world. Going downhill proved scarier than going up – we were just exceeding the very modest 30 MPH speed limit and came to what can only be described as a ‘blind’ corner under the railway bridge to join the Brighton Road.

We have been here before, and the run into Purley went quite smoothly with the usual exchange of passengers at what feels like London’s largest Tescos – it isn’t, but still has the effect of upsetting the balance of this busy road junction.  Purley High Street has somewhat lost its focus; today we had time to study the rooftops at leisure as there were two ‘incidents’ slowing us down; an older man kerbside was being attended to by the paramedic who arrives before the ambulance – meanwhile the ambulance plus three police rolled up and passed us at great speed. There was some fine lettering in the brickwork for Pretoria Buildings, and the parapets reminded us that ‘new’ laws were passed following the Great Fire of London to try to stop fire spreading quite so easily from house to house.

Purley Oaks has its own station with Capella Court (pic) sitting in a very dominant position, but looking under-occupied, on the big roundabout. We did of course stop at South Croydon Bus Garage for the drivers to change, thereby vindicating my hunch that this rather neglected looking bus came out of this garage, like several routes before it (see Lee’s comments for the 412).  The changeover was quick enough for us to catch the three police cars now straddled across a side turning, with officers ‘questioning’ civilians by the roadside. By now we were more or less at the ‘Swan & Sugarloaf’ and as at least four previous routes have taken us along Croydon’s ambitiously named restaurant quarter, I shall not repeat myself except to say the rather modest Christmas decorations had arrived.

This route serves Fairfield Halls and East Croydon station, and soon we were on our way heading east, alongside the trams, via the Addiscombe Road to Shirley. As the trees had died back we had a better view of the restored Shirley Windmill.(just visible in pic)  

From this point the properties became impressively detached, by which I don’t mean there were double side passages between the homes and gardens but each ‘mansion’ standing well back in its own grounds. We were on Shirley Road with woods and a golf course to either side. The windmill, not surprisingly was near the top of the Addington Hills and soon we were swooping down Gravel Hill, from where the views are good on a clearer day. The signs pointed to the Bishop’s Palace and while Bishop’s Walk has private housing the former residence of several Archbishops (of Canterbury) no less is now set in a golf course, and is a function venue.

At the bottom of the hill nestles (it does really as it is tucked between road and tramlines) the Addington Village Interchange which marked the end of our 466 trip, having taken an hour from the greens of Caterham and Coulsdon to the no less greens of Addiscombe and Addington. 

(What better combination buses and shoes; I am not sure you would be walking far in these) 

The Number 465 Route

Dorking to Kingston (Cromwell Road Bus Station)

Thursday October 25^th 2012

A shameful preamble – I decide to come clean rather than lie. So fixated were we to get to Dorking Station (50 minutes from Waterloo and a ticket under £3) that we failed to check the exact start of the route and assumed, like dorks, that the 465 would of course be waiting on the station forecourt. When we found the stop it said: for buses to Kingston please use Stop A. Some bemused taxi drivers, having watched us get off a London train, then watched us leave the station where they indicated the stop was. Unfortunately this involved crossing the six lanes of the A24. Jo had researched the bus as going every 12 minutes so we were a bit surprised to find only 2 an hour at this time of day.  Yes, this means we had looked at the timetable and STILL failed to recognise that this was NOT the start of the route. Then to our consternation we saw a red (‘red is right’) bus turn into the station.’He’s using it to turn round,’ said Jo. NO. This was the point we realised that Dorking Station is in fact some SIX stops from the start of the route but by this time it was too late to walk into Dorking and do things properly. We had been joined at the stop by a woman, with whom we could confirm she was just in time for the next bus. ‘You have to get out of Dorking sometimes’ she said, using the pretext of shopping for upcoming birthdays, and like us she rode this route all the way into Kingston. She explained the route had recently been taken over by another company, who had provided passengers with new vehicles rather than the previous bone-shakers.

So there you have it: all we saw of Dorking was the station forecourt, and rather as people say that someone is ‘two sandwiches short of a picnic,’ this entry is six stops short of completion. 

The first stretch goes fast along the generously wide A24 with the North Downs gently bosoming to our right. At the Pixham Lane roundabout we spotted two metallic cyclists which we guessed (correctly) had been added for the Olympics as one of the road races had taken place at nearby Box Hill. In fact this roundabout was our signal to turn off the busy road onto the old London road, which crosses the River Mole at Burford Bridge close to the National Trust area.  There is lots to enjoy round here and several  walks on offer in this area which has been enjoyed since Jane Austen's day.

It is possible to take a car to the top but the bus wriggles round the bottom of the hill along the aptly named Zig Zag Road past some well appointed homes  (Jane Austen is ‘catching’ I’m afraid) and the Juniper Hall Field Centre.

As the lane narrows further the 465 comes into Mickleham – the simple church looked quite old, and in fact there are some Saxon elements amongst the Norman bits and 1842 improvements. As you might wish, the pub opposite is equally picturesque. After the detour through this Surrey village the bus route rejoins the more robust A24 continuing along what must be the Mole valley as we ran both alongside and across the river more than once. Mole Valley

Many of the recent references on the web are to the floods which took place in June 2012, though I am not sure this immediate neighbourhood was affected. The National Trust has another property, this time a  house with garden, which is signposted from near here.

Once back on the A24 speed picked up and with few bus stops we made swift progress along to Leatherhead, rapid transit making photography difficult. The bus got progressively busier from this point picking up passengers having done or intent on doing their shopping later on.  The bus takes a little detour to the station (through which we had already passed on our way down) and Leatherhead has its rather fine Town Hall standing proud on a hill, and the Pumping Station which could surely stand in for a Nazi HQ in some (budget) war-time film?

Once through town there were few halts or requests for stopping so once we reached Leatherhead Golf Club the driver paused for a while, presumably so that he did not get ahead of schedule. This gave us a chance to appreciate some autumn foliage. 

By this time we had crossed the M25 and had also arrived in Kingston borough. Then came more leafy stretches – not exactly wild countryside but pleasantly green and soothing. The spell was only just broken by our arrival at Chessington World of Adventure, more easily reached by the Number 71. This stretch of road is also memorable (or not memorable depending on your point of view) for the extent of the modern business units which are a little set back from the road, but which happily still look fully occupied. We were last here over 2½ years ago and much has changed economically.

We rather liked the ‘Shy Horse’ at Chessington, and then later spotted the more usual ‘North Star’ at Hook. The Hook Road crossing is unlovely, though the 465 takes a less travelled route through Surbiton: as a small bus it is able to go down Surbiton High Street, which today seemed very busy. We stopped by the ‘Surbiton Flyer’ pub, whose continued existence is presumably guaranteed by having a position both on the High Street and close to the station as its sign implies.  The ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’ colours are a far cry from South West trains but I expect the sign painter was allowed some artistic licence. Surbiton Station itself is Grade II listed and had surely been re-whitewashed since we were last here, today looking gleaming and pristine?

The run into Kingston is quite familiar and I had already put down my pen when I realised we had deviated off the Kingston University approach and taken the older riverside and High Street approach into central Kingston, one of the few buses to do so. This approach crosses the Hogsmill River over the lovely old Clattern Bridge just before it joins the Thames (the Mole doing so closer to Hampton Court), and the 465 disgorges most of its passengers close the Shopping Centre – we wished our Dorking acquaintance good luck with her grandparental shopping and passed on more slowly, seeing on the way ‘Bo Concept’ which I took to be a trendy bar but was told is high concept Danish design furniture. A mere bus station may come as something of an anti-climax after that but not the lovely Cromwell Road, where we has an altogether reasonable wait for our key bus.

The 465 is one of our last routes to transit or start in Kingston and in fact it had only taken an hour to get us from the North Downs of Surrey to bustling Kingston.

Meeting the 465 in Zig Zag lane