Twenty years ago in a Singapore hotel, 54 IOC delegates voted to award the 2012 Olympic Games to London. Few saw it coming, the expectation was that the Games would go to Paris and that Seb Coe and friends had valiantly wasted years of effort. Instead the world came to Stratford to win medals and the Lower Lea Valley was duly transformed from a post-industrial backwater to a recreational and residential hub, and all in seven years flat. Trafalgar Square only London and Paris were still in the race, and a large expectant crowd had gathered to witness the opening of an envelope. When 'London' was revealed there was surprise, jubilation and a lot of ticker tape, then Heather Small stood up and sang Proud and the Red Arrows flew over. Lunchtimes have rarely been so consequential. Olympic-Park-to-be, trying to get my head round what might be going where. I bumped into film crews, BMX bikers and oblivious drunkards swigging from cans. I looked down from the Greenway across a swathe of instantly doomed businesses. I got as far as the bus garages, cash and carrys and nature reserves off Waterden Road, taking on the enormity of the transformation ahead. And on the way back I walked to the end of a cul-de-sac to find a German car company and a skip hire depot in the middle of what would eventually be the Olympic Stadium, and soon was. It was quite the day. after 10 years too, as you'd expect, but I'll keep it briefer this time. Also there have been several significant changes since 2015, starting here. This is the Abba Arena, erected silently during the pandemic and now playing to full houses in sequins and lace seven times a week. Technically it's a 'meanwhile' use, originally intended to be removed by 31st March 2025 and replaced by flats. Instead it's still standing because nobody kills a goose that lays golden eggs, and the owners of the Snoozebox Hotel nextdoor hope the day it finally ups sticks is as far in the future as possible. Back in 2005 all this was industrial estate with an emphasis on muck and auto parts, alongside the DLR's least significant halt. Since then the station has been massively upgraded, also relocated to dodge Crossrail, and all but one of the former warehouses has been knocked down. But even though the Games were over a decade ago not a single flat has been built within the Olympic footprint, only on land immediately outside, and a heck of a lot of empty hardstanding remains. It wouldn't surprise me if I returned in 2035 and found Pudding Mill neighbourhood still substantially incomplete. This is the Olympic Stadium, now the London Stadium because West Ham United still haven't found anyone willing to sponsor it. On the bright side it does have a proper legacy use because that was never a given, eventually reopening in 2016, and still packs them in for rock gigs and American football takeovers as and when. If you'd walked this riverside in 2005 it would have been a lonely experience, passing silos and the backs of warehouses while a guard dog barked across the water from a lengthy tumbledown shed. It was plain luck that the braids of the Bow Back Rivers spread wide enough here to accommodate the footprint of a world class arena, also pitch perfect for security, also always going to be an annoying walk from the nearest station. Today it's a joy to see the surface of the river still as alive with damselflies as it was 20 years ago, also a damned shame that the banks of wildflowers that peaked so memorably for the Games have been allowed to almost entirely fade away. February, with culture from the V&A and BBC due next year. This used to be a stripe of industries nowhere else wanted, from scrapyards and repair shops to battery stores and tyre mountains, before being repurposed for swimming and water polo during the Games. It's impressively busy along here now, partly due to office workers and students but mainly thanks to the arrival of Westfield just beyond. A massive mall on former railway lands was planned on this site before Jacques Rogge opened his envelope but the IOC merely turbocharged things and the UK's busiest shopping centre is the result. The Olympic Park itself is also reassuringly abuzz, even midweek, confirming that the speakers in that Singapore hotel room weren't being entirely over-optimistic. The fountains by the bridge squirt far less often than they used to, alas. This is the blue bridge, a single point of reference for those of us who remember how this area used to look. If I really concentrate I can remember a graffitied crossing beneath two tall pylons surrounded by secure fencing, just past Parkes Galvanizing Ltd, and now just look at it! I also remember Carpenters Lock as a derelict ruin I wasn't supposed to clamber on, and never would have guessed it would be fully restored to full navigational use. The fact barely any boats ever use it is alas irrelevant, although when I did my 2025 walk I was thrilled to see one of the lock gates raised while two official-looking gentlemen in Canal & River Trust polo shirts checked it out. Meanwhile nobody's yet found a good reason for the Orbit to exist, not since it was a useful viewing platform above a world-class sporting event for four weeks in the summer of 2012. If the world's longest tunnel slide failed to rake them in then a recent switch to the custody of Zip World is unlikely to cut it, especially with a greedy £5 booking fee on top. These are the northern parklands, arguably the greatest triumph of the post-Olympic legacy. Not only were they glorious to lounge in during the Games but they've matured since to become a wetland landscape of some beauty, complete with multiple kingfishers if you manage to get lucky. I wasn't thinking 'pandemic' when all this was created but my word it made my lockdown hugely more tolerable. That said the parkland has started to be nibbled away for housing on the west side, as was always in the long-term plan, as the neighbourhood of East Wick inexorably expands. There will still be a lot of grass left but it won't be as much as many people anticipated. Also the top of the mound beneath the Olympic rings used to have a much better view than this but the trees they planted 15 years ago are maturing now and the canopy is obscuring the horizon, with some way still to go. It is a shame the Manor House allotments had to move, split off to two less great locations, but what the wider public's gained here is immense. This is the Lea Valley Hockey and Tennis Centre with its dazzling blue outdoor pitch. I never walked this far in 2005, the A12 was too much of a barrier, so QEOP has also helped knit the community together. This Waltham Forest End does however feel somewhat underdeveloped, only coming to life when some massive hockey event descends and seals the place off. Also it was announced last week that the indoor tennis courts are to be converted to padel instead, which has caused a lot of angry players to make a racket, but the Park's recreational overlords have always appeared more interested in income than participation. Beyond that is the Velodrome, a timber beauty that far exceeds the cycle track that used to be here, and also the only Olympic residential neighbourhoods to have been completed so far. Never did I imagine when I wandered up here in the sunshine 20 years ago quite how amazingly it was all going to turn out, almost entirely for the better, and all because three more IOC delegates were persuaded to vote for London instead of Paris.

Haringey South southernmost point in the borough of Haringey. Which is this pub on the Seven Sisters Road. Finsbury Park station is 50 metres away. The southern tip of Haringey is a properly busy spot, a staggered crossroads between a mainline station and a massive park gate. It's also the meeting point of three boroughs, so the bus station's in Islington, the Happening Bagel Bakery is in Hackney and Rowans Tenpin Bowling is in Haringey. I had wondered if being called The Twelve Pins was a nod to the adjacent bowling mecca but it turns out to be the name of a mountain range in County Galway. The pub used to be called the Finsbury Park Tavern, which is appropriate because it is only a few steps from the entrance to park of that name, but the name changed when it went full-on Irish several years back. These day it's a pack'em-in multi-screen sports venue, the main attractions being every Arsenal match and all the Gaelic football, with a jealously-guarded patch of pavement screened off outside. I arrived before it opened, which saved debating whether or not to peer inside and I just admired the hanging baskets instead. Pyke's Cinematograph, an Edwardian electric theatre, but that ornate portal was sadly demolished in 1999 and a vapid Lidl now squats on the site. So marginal is this spot that a lamppost in front of the pub supports notices by both two different councils, Islington warning not to loiter on the pavement (which is theirs) and Haringey detailing rubbish collection times for adjacent properties (which are theirs). Also if you do choose to come down here tonight be warned that Fontaines DC are playing in Finsbury Park and one of their support acts is Kneecap, because this blog's psychogeographical travels are nothing if not totally in tune with the cultural zeitgeist. Haringey East easternmost point in the borough of Haringey. Which is this footbridge over the River Lea. Meridian Water station is half a mile away. The eastern edge of Haringey follows the River Lea, the reservoir-hugging section between Walthamstow Marshes and the North Circular. It bulges farthest on the Tottenham Marshes, not far from the big blue shed that used to be IKEA, conveniently adjacent to the sole footbridge that crosses the Navigation. This is the Chalk Bridge, a narrow crossing between parched grassland and the canal towpath, whose curving descent is the farthest east you can walk within the borough. Were it possible to leap the fence you could enter a more borderline structure which is the High Maynard Eel Transfer, or so it says on Thames Water's heavily fortified gate, behind which the real borough tip lurks in the middle of a flood relief channel. south towards sylvan waterside in Haringey where a long chain of narrowboats is moored up - somewhat messily if you wander down and take a closer look. For total contrast the northerly panorama is of pylons, bus depots and post-industrial estate, this all in Enfield who are busy developing the hell out of it. I walk this fairly regularly and even I was surprised to now see diggers landscaping earthworks along the water's edge and a cluster of lift towers beyond as Meridian Water begins to truly erupt. For now more people live on the Haringey side, afloat and bobbing, but it won't be long before Enfield totally dominates. Haringey North northernmost point in the borough of Haringey. Which is this traffic island on the North Circular. New Southgate station is 600 metres away. Bounds Green Brook, a minor stream whose valley was exploited to force the A406 through towards Finchley. We're not at the really terrible junction where all the traffic on the North Circular has to turn off to go straight on, but we are just one jump away so the traffic is often really snarled. Worse still Thames Water were digging up the road when I visited, merely minor cone-age but enough to entirely hobble anyone trying to pass through quickly. Only Bounds Green Road is actually in Haringey, running as it does beside the long grassy stripe of Bounds Green which is all that remains of Bounds Green Farm, appropriately enough for the boundary of the borough. Haringey West westernmost point in the borough of Haringey. Which is this playing field on Hampstead Lane. Kenwood House is 250 metres away. None of that is (quite) in Haringey, whose western protrusion hereabouts is a large sports ground called Far Field. It belongs to Highgate School and consists of a grassy rectangle with a small toilet block, the faint remnants of white stripes and several hockey goalposts pushed to one side. I wondered why it didn't look occupied and then noted that Highgate's school year ended on Thursday because the more you pay the shorter your terms are. What's more the school recently put in a planning application to replace the pitches here with astroturf, claiming they're often too waterlogged to use, and the local populace are up in arms. Synthetic turf is unsustainable, bad for wildlife, bad for biodiversity, bad for water management and made from evil fossil fuels, apparently, although peering through the railings it does feel like there ought to be far more important things to grumble about. Haringey.

What's the best thing TfL ever did? anniversary poster series highlights several major achievements across the last 25 years, but they haven't released one for each year, not yet anyway. So I had a go at selecting annual highlights. 2000  Tramlink 2001  Bus Saver tickets 2002  Journey Planner / Trafalgar Square 2003  Oyster / Congestion Charge 2004  Legible London 2005  Accessible buses 2006  Baby on board badge 2007  Overground 2008  Priority seating 2009  iBus / New Routemaster 2010  Pedestrian Countdown / Tube aircon / Cycle Superhighways / Cycle Hire 2011  DLR Stratford International 2012  Olympics / Dangleway 2013  150th Tube anniversary 2014  Contactless 2015  Closing ticket offices / Bus Stop M 2016  Night Tube / Hopper 2017  Night Overground 2018  - 2019  Woolwich Ferry / Cycleways 2020  Essential Travel / TfL Go 2021  Northern line extension 2022  Crossrail / Barking Riverside 2023  ULEZ extension 2024  Superloop 2025  Silvertown Tunnel But which TfL thing is best of all? Let's take five years at a time and see if we can narrow it down. 2000  Tramlink 2001  Bus Saver tickets 2002  Journey Planner / Trafalgar Square 2003  Oyster / Congestion Charge 2004  Legible London We can discount Tramlink because that opened two months before TfL was formed. Pedestrianising one side of Trafalgar Square was radical by 2002 standards but feels tame now. 2003 is clearly where it's at, and I'm going with the introduction of Oyster as the revolution that made travel so much simpler and still does to this day. 2005  Accessible buses 2006  Baby on board badge 2007  Overground 2008  Priority seating 2009  iBus / New Routemaster 2010  Pedestrian Countdown / Tube aircon / Cycle Superhighways / Cycle Hire 2011  DLR Stratford International 2012  Olympics / Dangleway 2013  150th Tube anniversary 2014  Contactless This is a tough selection from which to pick a favourite. Air-cooled trains were a revelation in 2010, as we've learned again this week. Cycle hire arguably kickstarted an active travel revolution that continues to grow. I reckon 2012 pips them both though, not the eternal irrelevance of the Dangleway but the fear that transportation would be the Achilles heel of London's Olympics whereas instead it greased the wheels nigh perfectly. 2015  Closing ticket offices / Bus Stop M 2016  Night Tube / Hopper 2017  Night Overground 2019  Woolwich Ferry / Cycleways 2020  Essential Travel / TfL Go By rights Bus Stop M should be the highlight here, certainly given the paucity of some of the opposition. The new Woolwich Ferries were a floating disaster and rebranded Cycleways remain a confusing tangled web. I nearly picked 2016's Night Tube for the way it fired up the weekends, but I really have to go with TfL continuing to run a comprehensive transport network for not many passengers despite minimal fare income during a two year-long pandemic. 2021  Northern line extension 2022  Crossrail / Barking Riverside 2023  ULEZ extension 2024  Superloop 2025  Silvertown Tunnel This is a really strong list, as if Sadiq's TfL was finally getting into its stride and opening everything. And there can only be one winner here, 2022's utterly transformative Elizabeth line, which despite being ridiculously late Londoners can no longer live without. 2003  Oyster 2007  Overground 2012  Olympics 2020  Essential Travel 2022  Crossrail Oyster is the best thing TfL ever did. (unless of course you know better)

Happy Birthday to TfL, who are 25 years old today. Celebrations started in January with a panoply of posters highlighting past successes, also scattered silver roundels reminding Londoners that Every Journey Matters. But the actual birthday is today, a founding date shared with the Greater London Authority because they're 25 too. Greater London Authority Act finally kick in. Ken's levers at this time were few and his budget small, but all the powers and public scrutiny we now take for granted started here. building's since been sold off as housing - to be more precise 169 flats and a health club - and I wonder if the current occupant of Room AG16 realises how historic their apartment is. Agenda and the Minutes for that inaugural meeting, and indeed of every Board meeting since. London's transport had been centrally controlled since 1933 when the London Passenger Transport Board was formed, followed sequentially by the London Transport Executive, London Transport Board and London Regional Transport. To the general public they were long known simply as London Transport. 25 years ago saw a switch to the more user-friendly Transport for London, a name recognising that the Mayor and Board were working on behalf of Londoners. What's interesting here is the italicisation of 'for' in the name Transport for London, this on every mention in the minutes and even in the three-letter acronym. It's always TfL, never TfL, a really powerful branding statement which at some point in the subsequent years was summarily ditched. TfL is no longer quite so for London as on the day it was born. It's clear that those present recognised this was a new dawn for London's transport, both in terms of public accountability and the potential for improving the lives of Londoners. That said there were in fact two meetings on that first day, a public one and a private one, because there will always be sensitive topics better not shared. Traffic Director for London   Dial-a-Ride The biggest omission from that list, if you look carefully, was London Underground Limited. It would be 2003 before this was finally transferred across to TfL control. The tube was held back to allow the government time to set up a public–private partnership model separating out trains and infrastructure, a PPP model they knew Ken Livingstone would vehemently oppose. This he did but it went through anyway, at least until infracos failed to deliver and by 2010 everything would be back in house. Bob Kiley was appointed in the top role. Fares would be a focus of the second Board meeting on July 27th. Ken took issue with the government's assumption that fares should increase 1% in real terms in January 2001, instead sticking to inflation-based rises on the tube and a fares freeze on the buses. He also expressed an aspiration to introduce a flat fare for all buses across London, rather than £1 for journeys in Zone 1 and 70p elsewhere. Meanwhile a decision was made to end the right of senior TfL staff to a company car, "with appropriate compensation in negotiation with the individuals affected". From a lowly start in a Westminster meeting room to today's back-slapping celebrations, the last 25 years have seen TfL grow from a fledgling organisation still finding its feet to a world-class brand-obsessed innovator delivering better transport to millions. It's been quite the journey, but then Every Journey Matters.

45 45 Squared 23) GOLDEN SQUARE, W1 Borough of Westminster, 60m×60m central well-ish-known one for a change. Golden Square is one of Soho's largest public spaces, mainly due to a lack of public spaces rather than being particularly large. It lies east of Regent Street and south of Carnaby Street but is visible from neither, and as with most of Greater London it was once all fields. That field was called Geldings Close, presumably for its horsey occupants, and was first licenced for housing in 1673. Two landowners claimed the freehold and disagreed majorly on how to proceed, with a compromise plan eventually emerging from the office of Christopher Wren. The resulting square was eventually split between them, not quite symmetrically, and the connecting roads named James Street and John Street in their memory. » a very full history here (and on the six subsequent pages) Golden Square in 1720, but the subsequent growth of Mayfair lured these away and numbers dropped to two in 1730 and one in 1740. Next came the diplomatic envoys, hence a blue plaque at Number 23 recalls this being the Portuguese Embassy in the early 18th century, then a kind of reverse gentrification took place... first artists, then craftsmen, then boarding houses. By the time Dickens described it in the second chapter of Nicholas Nickleby it was a place of swarthy moustached men and itinerant glee-singers based round a mournful statue. Although a few members of the graver professions live about Golden Square, it is not exactly in anybody's way to or from anywhere. It is one of the squares that have been; a quarter of the town that has gone down in the world, and taken to letting lodgings. Many of its first and second floors are let, furnished, to single gentlemen; and it takes boarders besides. It is a great resort of foreigners. The dark-complexioned men who wear large rings, and heavy watch-guards, and bushy whiskers, and who congregate under the Opera Colonnade, and about the box-office in the season, between four and five in the afternoon, when they give away the orders,--all live in Golden Square, or within a street of it. It's not like that now. What changed at the end of the nineteenth century was the arrival of the woollen and worsted trade, attracted by proximity to London's tailors, who began to replace the original domestic buildings by larger office and warehouse blocks. And when they moved on Golden Square started to fill with media and creative types, so for example the north side now hosts outdoor overlords Clear Channel and the global HQ of advertising gurus M&C Saatchi. As an example of this inexorable transition Number 22 was first owned by a colonel, later a printseller, then became the showroom for a Huddersfield woollen mill and now houses The Film and TV Charity. Meanwhile Number 1's first owner was a lord, later a harpsichord maker, then a plate glass workshop and most recently Bauer Media, purveyors of Magic, Kiss, Absolute and Greatest Hits. The subjugation of UK local radio, it turns out, was plotted from the corner of Golden Square. George II, never a monarch Britain particularly liked, which it's said was donated to the square after a buyer accidentally bought it at auction. The beds of Damascena roses underneath are much more recent, planted in 2018 as "a gift to London from Bulgarian Londoners", and soften the ambience somewhat. Beyond that are empty urns, empty plinths and empty pingpong tables, hardly the most inspiring collection, and around the edge a ring of bogstandard benches just the right length to sleep on. I may not have seen the square at its best - I got the bin lorry and the minion affixing 'Parking Suspension' notices ahead of Pride - but I suspect it merely merits bronze status, not truly Golden.