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.

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


 

 
 
 
 

How getting a dog made me hate London less

A dog called Martha. Image: Jamie Ross.

I never have been anything but a staunch hater of London. Growing up in what a friend from Chicago called “a forest reserve”, my entire life has been split between a suburban one in a leafy town near Dayton, Ohio and an urban one, spent in stupidly pretty, and still fairly leafy, Edinburgh. I moved to London for a hot second in 2016, hated my job as well as my surroundings, and left, pretty much immediately.

And then, almost two years later, I was offered my current role at the New Statesman, and I packed up my shit and dragged my reluctant boyfriend with me to do it all over again. I sort of enjoyed my summer in London – but I felt strongly that living in the city would never feel like anything other than a necessary evil.

I live in – this is your moment to laugh and call me a posh prick – Notting Hill. It’s a decent location, has more trees and parks than other parts of the city, and, most importantly, is the closest I could get to replicating my old neighbourhood of Stockbridge in Edinburgh, which I loved dearly. But even this isn’t enough to entirely counteract the fact my physical surroundings, on my commute to the office by the Temple, made me feel constantly claustrophobic and stressed. London is cold and unfriendly, compared to many parts of this country, and it is filthy – not in a snobby, prissy, precious fuckhead way, but in a “My life expectancy has probably dropped by three years breathing in this polluted air and stepping on broken glass” way. For my first few months in London, in the middle of the heat wave, walking the streets was like walking through an endless sludge: this was not a city I liked nor one I, really, wanted to live in.

Until I got a puppy.

The one condition my boyfriend imposed when he agreed to trudge down to London with me was that we find a flat where our letting agreement said that we could have dog. So, three months after our move, we got Martha, a twelve-week-old black cockapoo.

Getting her changed our lives in a lot of ways. It’s made it impossible for us to leave the house without having a human being on attendance to watch her like a hawk. It means I now have to wake up at 6:45am every day, weekends included, so that she can take a shit. She has improved our lives remarkably - I mean, we have a living floof doing sweet and adorable shit in our house – but she has changed things a lot.

And the thing I least expected this goddam dog to change has been the way has made me feel more integrated into this godforsaken city: she’s made me appreciate London, even with its downsides.

Actually, something else happened, without which I don’t think my point of view would have changed. Almost immediately after getting Martha – and I mean, like, within hours – I contracted a disgusting cold. The day after that cold cleared up, I got violent conjunctivitis, like the disgusting seven-year-old I am, which took a week to get over.

These two illnesses, combined, lasted around two weeks, so I was trapped at home for roughly seven days of the ten I would normally have been at work. That meant I was around to relieve the puppy burden from my home-working boyfriend.

I was tasked with dragging my puss-filled eyes out to let our dog have a run around, and to get her to piss every couple of hours. This new responsibility forced me to explore the neighbourhood that, for the three months previous, I had generally ignored. What I thought was the worst timing known to man was, not to exaggerate, life-changing. I’m not sure I would have come to this realisation about my new home had it not happened.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Another great day at the park! Pic by fellow small creature @esther.dominy.

A post shared by Martha The Dog (@heythereitsmartha) on

Happy City by Charles Montgomery is a book all about how urban planning can make or break our wellbeing – what commutes, cars, bikes, and greenspace do to our mental health. One portion of the book is spent debunking the idea that the sheer amount of greenspace in an area is what makes us happy. Montgomery argues that it’s actually the regularity of greenspace that makes a real difference – it’s not just how much grass and trees there is in the city you live in, but how often you get to see it.


Pre-Martha, my exposure to grass amounted to the occasional lunch in a garden and a visit to Hyde Park once or twice a month. But within a matter of days of getting a dog, I learned that I had not one, not two, not three, but five (five!) piss locations within five (again: five!) minutes of my house. Some were suitable for little more than the aforementioned – but others gave her enough room to run after sticks, leaves, tennis balls, and, her favourite, other dogs, so that she’d be pleasantly exhausted for the rest of the day. What I originally thought was just an expanse of buildings and pavement stretching from my flat to Hyde Park was actually filled with pockets of green spaces that made this trash-laden hell-hole feel a lot less oppressive.

Spending time at parks where other dogs also go to piss meant I started to make relationships with other dog-owners too. For the first time in any place I’ve lived in outside of my home town, I actually started to meet my neighbours, and learn about things that were happening in my neighbourhood, that I would never otherwise never known about. I now know Tiggy, Rex, Bubba, and Charlie, as well as their respective owners. I also know about good pubs, family-run restaurants, and free events that are far better than the deeply average, pretentious brunch place recommended to me by The Culture Trip. My neighbourhood has feeling like a dead space between Tesco, my bus stop, and the tube, to a place I can see as a respite from the rest of this stressful city, full of people I know and new places I’d have otherwise not thought twice about.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Me and some new friends from the other day! Hoping for some more social time this weekend 

A post shared by Martha The Dog (@heythereitsmartha) on

And taking her out at the same time every day, around the 7am mark, means we then almost always run into the same people. A very sweet kid walks to school around the same time and always smiles at her. We see the same woman with her dog, who always greets Martha with aggressive barking, ultimately ending in a congenial ass sniff. We let her jump up at the incredibly patient builders doing construction on a building at the end of our street.

This morning ritual, seeing my neighbourhood when it’s not rammed with tourists but is quiet and reserved for people who live or work nearby, has become a way to decompress at the start of every day. And as a woman, being up and out when it’s often dark, but seeing people I now recognise, means my neighbourhood has become less intimidating. For the first time in London, I feel safe and comfortable even late at night.

Beyond the confines of my neighbourhood, Martha has made me see London, not for what it does for me, but for what it provides for her. Never have I ever had such an appreciation for London’s public transport system than when I got my dog, who wears a big stupid grin at all times when riding the bus. (Her internal monologue honestly appears to be an endless loop of, “ALL OF THIS STUFF WOW MORE STUFF OH GOD REALLY COULD THERE ACTUALLY BE MORE STUFF HELLO EVERYONE HI OH HI WOULD YOU LIKE TO PET MY HEAD?”)

Even long journeys are now a delight, because watching your puppy be amazed, fascinated, and happy at all times, eventually passing out from exhaustion at all the energy expended, is incredibly heart-warming. Faced from the bus, London, even at its busiest, feels far better with my dog than on my own: her pure, unadulterated excitement is enough to make holding a wild animal on a packed motor vehicle worthwhile.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

dad taught me love • dad taught me patience • dad taught me pain

A post shared by Martha The Dog (@heythereitsmartha) on

I’m almost certain I will never love London. I don’t think I will ever feel charmed enough by the charming parts to outweigh the onslaught of the, often, literal shit it brings with it. Not everything about having a dog in London is great, of course: there is trash everywhere, trash I used to pass nonchalantly but now have to heave my dog away from in case she eats a used condom or even another dog’s shit. And, obviously, living in a city is probably never great for an animal compared to, say, a suburb or the countryside.

But through my dog I’ve learned what’s actually around me, not just what I narrowly perceive on my begrudging walk to work. Doing that has made London feel a lot less like my own personal hell. Slowly, Martha is making London like some kind of twisted, imperfect, home for me.

Sarah Manavis is the digital culture and tech writer at the New Statesman. She tweets as @sarahmanavis.

Martha Ross-Manavis is small and cute dog. You can follow her on Instagram at @heythereitsmartha.