Do British cities have grid systems? We used science to find out

Some American cities with grid systems, yesterday. Image: Google Maps.

Grids! What are they good for? Basic urban planning, it turns out: take a look at how a US city is laid on a map, and often you’ll be looking at a grid of streets criss-crossing at exactly 90 degrees.

This is not strictly speaking an American phenomenon – similar systems have been used across the world for thousands of years because, well, it’s an easy way to divide up land. Fans of Worthing in West Sussex may be excited to learn that it owes some of its street layout to ‘centuriation’ – the grid system used by the Roman Empire.

But the US has really taken the idea and run with it, as you can see from these charts, which show the most common road orientations within a given city – the closer the chart is to a cross over the centre, the more closely aligned the city is to a grid. Just look at how dead on most of them are:

The street orientations of 25 US cities. Image: Geoff Boeing.

These charts are the work of urban planning researcher Geoff Boeing, who’s put together some software that can analyse the layout of the roads within a city, or any other geographical space, using data from OpenStreet Maps.

 

The streets of Manhattan, in map and polar histogram form. Image: Geoff Boeing.

Here he’s used the same process on 25 cities from around the world, which tend to be a lot less carefully laid out:

Image: Geoff Boeing.

Even where there isn’t a strict grid system, you can still usually make out an overall orientation if you squint – look at London, for instance.

London with some highly scientific lines drawn on it. Image: author’s own work.

When the City of London burned down in the great fire, the suggestions for how to rebuild it actually included various ideas for grid systems. It came to nothing, and the city ended up with broadly the same layout it had before it burned down – but if we use Boeing’s method, we can there is a pattern to the street orientation:

The City of London as a histogram. Image: author’s own work.

Which does make sense when you think about it – the roads either tend to follow the line of, or run down to, the river, thus: a grid.

Here’s the City together with the London boroughs:

The London boroughs as polar histograms of street orientation. Maps are so last year! Image: author’s own work.

What this doesn’t account for is size. Perhaps the larger the borough, the less likely it is to have a clear pattern – whether that be because it has several ‘competing’ grids or just is not going to be tied down with geometry, man. If we compare the City (1.12 square miles) and Bromley, the largest London borough (57.97 square miles), that seems plausible.

But that’s not necessarily true, because here are the boroughs in size order:

The London boroughs, now in size order. Image: author’s own work.

Lambeth is noticeably more of a jumble than its ‘size-neighbours’ Southwark and Camden, for instance.

And for that one guy who complains on Facebook that I only ever write about London, here are 25 UK towns and cities:

London plus 24 other weird places that aren’t London. Image: author’s own work.

But what about the most famous grid system in the UK, in Milton Keynes? Well, erm:

The Milton Keynes ‘grid system’. Image: author’s own work.

So does Milton Keynes have a grid system or not? Well, yes, but isn’t that strict.

Firstly, that’s because not every road is part of the grid – the ‘squares’ of the grid are the main roads and the smaller roads within don’t necessarily conform to any particular layout. And secondly, because it was deliberately designed not be as rigid as an American-style grid. In the words of David Lock, a planner who’s worked in Milton Keynes since the 1970s:

“The designers decided that the grid concept should apply but should be a lazy grid following the flow of land, its valleys, its ebbs and flows. That would be nicer to look at, more economical and efficient to build, and would sit more beautifully as a landscape intervention.”

Don’t worry though, grid fans, they did stick to a proper grid for the town centre.

Grids! Grids! Grids! Image: author’s own work.

Right, now for a rousing singalong of that classic post-war planning anthem: “You’ve never seen anything like it: Central Milton Keynes!”

Altogether now:

Ed Jefferson works for the internet and tweets as @edjeff.

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The media scumbag’s route of choice: A personal history of London’s C2 bus

A C2 bus at Parliament Hill. Image: David Howard/Wikimedia Commons.

London’s C2 bus route, which runs from Parliament Hill, by Hampstead Heath, down to Conduit Street, just off Regent Street, is one of the bus routes recently earmarked for the chop. It has oft been noted that, of all the routes recently pencilled in for cancellation after a consultation late last year, it was the one most likely to survive, for the simple reason that it links liberal suburban north London with BBC Broadcasting House and Soho; it’s thus the route most likely to be used by people who can convince someone to let them report on its imminent demise.

So it would come as no surprise that former Guardian editor Alan Rusbridger took to the Camden New Journal when the consultation began, arguing that it would be a disservice to the local community to discontinue a route where you can always get a seat – seemingly missing the point that the fact you can always get a seat is not a great sign of the route’s usefulness.

It wasn’t always that way. When I left university in 2000, and moved from accommodation near college to up to a rented shared house in N6, the C2 was my bus. I commuted to Soho for sixteen years: for more than a decade from flats around the Swain’s Lane roundabout, and for five years from Kentish Town. While my place of work bounced around from Golden Square to Lexington Street to Great Marlborough, it was always the most convenient way to get to, and from, work; especially given the difference between bus and tube prices.

So when it comes to the C2 I’ve seen it, I’ve done it, and bought the bus pass. And by bus pass, I mean those little paper ones that still existed at the beginning of this century. Not just before contactless, but before Oyster cards.

More importantly, it was before London buses operated a single zone. There was an outer zone, and an inner zone, with different prices. To travel from one zone to another cost £1.30, meaning an all cash commute was £2.60, whereas a paper bus pass was £2.00. That made it worth your while to divert to an early opening newsagents on your way to the bus stop (GK, in my case), even if you only got two buses a day.

It’s a measure of how greatly London’s buses have improved over the last twenty years, since first brought under control of the mayoralty, that pretty much everything about this anecdotage, including the prices, seems faintly mad. But there’s more: back when I started getting that bus down to Stop N, literally at the very end of the route, the C2 used single decker buses with a single door. It’s an appalling design for use in a crowded city, which meant most of any journey was, for most passengers, spent fighting your way up and down the middle of the bus to find a seat, and then back again to get off; or – and this was more likely – fighting your way up the bus to get into standing space the driver insisted was there, before fighting your way, etc.

Such buses – and in my former life in the English Midlands I went to school on one of these buses every day – are perfectly functional where bus stops are infrequent and buses rarely standing room only. But running through Camden Town at rush hour, they’re wholly unfit for purpose.

A Citypacer. Image: RXUYDC/Wikimedia Commons.

It could have been worse. I didn’t know this at the time, but a few years before the C2 route had been run using Optare City Pacers. Those are, let us be frank, not really buses at all, but minibuses. That’s something the reveals the C2’s origins, as a hopper route to the west end largely intended for the daytime use of Gospel Oak’s pensioners in the years immediately before bus privatisation. (The C11 has a similar origin, taking the same constituency from Archway to England’s Lane.)

Once responsibility for London Buses was moved to the newly established mayoralty, things improved dramatically. Under Ken Livingstone it went double decker in 2005, and 24 hour in 2007. Under Boris Johnson it was extended from its once, and future, terminus of Conduit Street to Victoria Station, swallowing up the cancelled sections of the 8 bus; this extension was quietly disposed of a few years later, once it was clear no one would notice. (I did.)


In those years I must have taken a C2 the best part of ten thousand times; but for all the years when I wouldn’t have been able to live without the C2, times have reduced its utility, and not just for me. I’m now a 214 sort of guy: these days the top chunk of the C2 route is duplicated exactly by that other bus, which starts up in Highgate Village and, once it gets to Swain’s Lane, follows the same path until the fork of Kentish Town Road and Royal College Street, opposite the long defunct South Kentish Town tube station.

From a few hundred metres below that point, at Camden Gardens, stop C, the 88 starts. That duplicates the rest of the C2’s route, with the exception of the run down Albany Street and onto Great Portland, for much of which the C2 is the only bus.

So the C2, old friend that it is, is pretty redundant in the age of the hopper fare, which allows you to change buses without paying a second fare. That’s even more true now the C2’s otherwise un-serviced stops are being giving over to a re-routed 88, which will pick up the C2’s most northern leg, by not finishing at Camden Gardens anymore and instead going all the way to Parliament Hill Fields. Which will be nice for it.

All this, however, ignores the best reason for getting rid of the C2 (or rather for merging it with the 88, which is what’s actually happening): that first character. The letter. Who wants a bus route with a letter in front of it when even half the night buses don’t have the N anymore? It’s relic of the route’s aforementioned origins as a ‘Camdenhopper’.

That C is twenty five years past its own utility. It’s just untidy. City Metric hates that sort of thing. Get rid.