Four thoughts on TfL’s plans to colour code its bus routes

This one’s red. Image: Getty.

So, here’s a thing:

The short version: Transport for London (TfL) is trialling a new colour-coding system for bus routes. Each bus will get its own colour, which will be used on the “spider maps” showing bus routes around a particular area, as well as on signs at stops, and in big numbers on the side of each bus.

At the moment this is only a pilot. Initially, it’s been trialled on seven bus routes around Barkingside, out in the far east; in the summer, it’ll spread to Hayes in the west. But if it works, it could be rolled out further.

So – will it work? Some thoughts.


There aren’t that many colours

London has a lot of bus routes. A lot. Even excluding special services like night buses, school buses and so on, there are over 500 routes.

There are of course an infinite number of colours, so this wouldn’t be a problem – except that there’s a limit to the number the human eye can instantly distinguish. You can get away with a light blue and a dark blue; but throw in any more blues than that, and users have to consciously try to follow a line rather than simply see it at a glance.

One result of this is that no metro map in the world contains more than 15 shades; only a dozen use more than 10. (Lots more analysis on this stuff here.) So the implication that each bus will get an identifying colour like each tube line does is very clearly nonsense.

And buses cross each others’ paths

Not every bus needs a unique colour, of course: you can have multiple buses numbered in violet, providing they don’t go anywhere near each other.

The difficulty is they probably will – and TfL has started with an easy bit of town. There are only seven buses in Barkingside. It’s easy enough, then, to give them all a unique colour:

The Barkingside spider map: click to expand Image: TfL.

But five of those routes go to Ilford, where they cross paths with 12 more. Two of them go to Romford, from where they meet another 19 buses.

And the Romford one: click to expand. Image: TfL.

Even thinking about the maths does my head in – but it seems unlikely to me that every bus in London can be given a colour different from that of every bus it ever shares a stop with. At some bus stops, there’ll be two buses in violet.

The problem is the maps

That’s not necessarily a critical flaw: the big colourful numbers on the side of each bus will still help you when identifying buses from a distance. If a violet 25 and a violet 101 happen to share a stop at some point, well, those numbers look different enough that nobody’s going to confuse them. The colour coding will still be useful.

Except – those numbers aren’t just for the sides of buses, or the stop signs. They’re also meant to match those shown on spider maps, like those above.

I am unconvinced it will be possible to do this in such a way that no map needs to use the same colour for multiple different routes. In fact, I suspect it’ll happen rather a lot.

And I’m not sure a world in which three buses are shown on a single map in the same colour is one in which buses are more accessible than the world we’re living in now.

What about service flexibility?

There’s another issue. The whole point of rotating bus blinds is that the same bus can be used on several different routes. Historically, you’d turn a handle, and both the destination and the number shown on the front of the bus would change.

Old London bus blinds in the London Transport Museum. Image: Leif Jørgensen/Wikimedia.

This meant a degree of flexibility: if a bus broke down, another could be swapped over from a different route to plug the gap. Even today, when London’s bus services are provided by a dozen different companies, each of them generally runs enough routes to retain these advantages.

One quick way to remove this flexibility, though, is to paint the route number on the side of the bus in big colourful numbers, so that a 150 is a 150 is a 150.

I don’t want to be down on this idea. I think it sounds lovely: you’ll be able to spot your bus from further away, and giving bus routes colours should give them a stronger identity, something for people to latch onto. All this should make the bus network more usable to those who find it a bit intimidating.

But – I just can’t see how it’s going to work in practice. I’m sure it’ll work in Barkingside and Hayes. But how can it work in a network of over 500 buses?

I fear this may be one of those ideas where the theory is better than the reality.

You can read more on public transport map colour schemes here, if you so wish.

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric. He is on Twitter as @jonnelledge and also has a Facebook page now for some reason. 

Want more of this stuff? Follow CityMetric on Twitter or Facebook

 
 
 
 

Was the decline in Liverpool’s historic population really that unusual?

A view of Liverpool from Birkenhead. Image: Getty.

It is often reported that Liverpool’s population halved after the 1930s. But is this true? Or is it a myth?

Often, it’s simply assumed that it’s true. The end. Indeed, proud Londoner Lord Adonis – a leading proponent of the Liverpool-bypassing High Speed 2 railway, current chair of the National Infrastructure Commission, and generally a very influential person – stood on the stairs in Liverpool Town Hall in 2011 and said:

“The population of Liverpool has nearly halved in the last 50 years.”

This raises two questions. Firstly, did the population of the City of Liverpool really nearly halve in the 50 year period to 2011? That’s easy to check using this University of Portsmouth website – so I did just that (even though I knew he was wrong anyway). In 2011, the population of the City of Liverpool was 466,415. Fifty years earlier, in 1961, it was 737,637, which equates to a 37 per cent drop. Oops!

In fact, the City of Liverpool’s peak population was recorded in the 1931 Census as 846,302. Its lowest subsequent figure was recorded in the 2001 Census as 439,428 – which represents a 48 per cent decline from the peak population, over a 70 year period.

Compare this to the population figures for the similarly sized City of Manchester. Its peak population also recorded in the 1931 Census as 748,729, and its lowest subsequent figure was also recorded in the 2001 Census, as 392,830. This also represents a 48 per cent decline from the peak population, over the same 70 year period.

So, as can be seen here, Liverpool is not a special case at all. Which makes me wonder why it is often singled out or portrayed as exceptional in this regard, in the media and, indeed, by some badly briefed politicians. Even London has a similar story to tell, and it is told rather well in this recent article by a Londoner, for the Museum of London. (Editor’s note: It’s one of mine.)

This leads me onto the second question: where have all those people gone: London? The Moon? Mars?

Well, it turns out that the answer is bit boring and obvious actually: after World War 2, lots of people moved to the suburbs. You know: cars, commuter trains, slum clearance, the Blitz, all that stuff. In other words, Liverpool is just like many other places: after the war, this country experienced a depopulation bonanza.


So what form did this movement to the suburbs take, as far as Liverpool was concerned? Well, people moved and were moved to the suburbs of Greater Liverpool, in what are now the outer boroughs of the city region: Halton, Knowsley, St Helens, Sefton, Wirral. Others moved further, to Cheshire West & Chester, West Lancashire, Warrington, even nearby North Wales, as previously discussed here.

In common with many cities, indeed, Liverpool City Council actually built and owned large several ‘New Town’ council estates, to which they moved tens of thousands of people to from Liverpool’s inner districts: Winsford in Cheshire West (where comedian John Bishop grew up), Runcorn in Halton (where comedian John Bishop also grew up), Skelmersdale in West Lancashire, Kirkby in Knowsley. There is nothing unique or sinister here about Liverpool (apart from comedian John Bishop). This was common practice across the country – Indeed, it was central government policy – and resulted in about 160,000 people being ‘removed’ from the Liverpool local authority area.

Many other people also moved to the nearby suburbs of Greater Liverpool to private housing – another trend reflected across the country. It’s worth acknowledging, however, that cities across the world are subject to a level of ‘churn’ in population, whereby many people move out and many people move in, over time, too.

So how did those prominent images of derelict streets in the inner-city part of the City of Liverpool local authority area come about? For that, you have to blame the last Labour government’s over-zealous ‘Housing Market Renewal Initiative’ (HMRI) disaster – and the over enthusiastic participation of the then-Lib Dem controlled city council. On the promise of ‘free’ money from central government, the latter removed hundreds of people from their homes with a view to demolishing the Victorian terraces, and building new replacements. Many of these houses, in truth, were already fully modernised, owner-occupied houses within viable and longstanding communities, as can be seen here in Voelas Street, one of the famous Welsh Streets of Liverpool:

Voelas Street before HMRI implementation. Image: WelshStreets.co.uk.

The same picture after HMRI implementation Image: WelshStreets.co.uk. 

Nonetheless: the council bought the houses and ‘tinned them up’ ready for demolition. Then the coalition Conservative/Lib Dem government, elected in 2010, pulled the plug on the scheme. 

Fast forward to 2017 and many of the condemned houses have been renovated, in a process which is still ongoing. These are over-subscribed when they come to market, suggesting that the idea was never appropriate for Liverpool on that scale. 

At any rate, it turns out that the Liverpool metropolitan population is pretty much the same as it was at its peak in 1931 (depending where the local borough boundaries are arbitrarily drawn). It just begs the question: why are well educated and supposedly clever people misrepresenting the Liverpool metropolis, in particular, in this way so often? Surely they aren’t stupid are they?


And why are some people so determined to always isolate the City of Liverpool from its hinterland, while London is always described in terms of its whole urban area? It just confuses and undermines what would otherwise often be worthwhile comparisons and discussions. Or, to put it another way: “never, ever, compare apples with larger urban zones”.

In a recent Channel 4 documentary, for example, the well-known and respected journalist Michael Burke directly compared the forecast population growths, by 2039, of the City of Liverpool single local authority area against that of the combined 33 local authority areas of Greater London: 42,722 versus 2.187,708. I mean, what bizarre point is such an inappropriate comparison even trying to make? It is like comparing the projected growth of a normal sized-person’s head with the projected growth of the whole of an obese person, over a protracted period.

Having said all that, there is an important sensible conversation to be had as to why the populations of the Greater Liverpool metropolis and others haven’t grown as fast as maybe should have been the case, whilst, in recent times, the Greater London population has been burgeoning. But constantly pitching it as some sort of rare local apocalypse helps no one.

Dave Mail has declared himself CityMetric’s Liverpool City Region correspondent. He will be updating us on the brave new world of Liverpool City Region, mostly monthly, in ‘E-mail from Liverpool City Region’ and he is on twitter @davemail2017.