“So you’ve decided to collect maps”: A beginners guide to cartophilia

Mmmmm, maps. Image: author provided.

The fact that you are reading a City Metric article about map collecting suggests that there’s a high probability that you already are a collector of maps. Right now you may be thinking to yourself, “Not me”, but I have news for you: many a map collector finds it hard to admit, even to themselves, that they’re a cartophile*.

But if you ever got into the habit of buying a map when you were travelling, and then you kept that map, with your other maps… then you have a collection of maps and you are a map collector.

You might describe this as unintentional map collecting. But to move from this ad hoc attitude to a more deliberate state doesn’t take much. You simply start buying maps of places you may one day visit (admit it, you’ve done that, haven’t you?). Or perhaps, somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you like the idea of owning all the maps – so wherever you travel to, you have a map already.

If you have some small desire to one day have the full set, you are definitely a map collector. If that is you, it’s time to be honest with yourself. Admit that you have been collecting maps for years and now start doing it properly.

What have you got?

Your first task is to assess your collection. Due to your so far unintentional attitude, you’ll probably find an alarming collection of scales and styles.

You may be tempted to rationalize: this is probably a good idea. But whatever you do, don’t throw them in the recycling. These are maps, treat them with respect. File them to one-side, and you will soon work out what the correct method of disposal is.


Once you’ve rationalized your collection, you will have to choose a map series to focus on. In the UK we are more than blessed with options. Ordnance Survey alone offer Explorers, Landrangers, One-Inch, Routefinders and so on. Then there are the Bartholomew’s series, while Sustrans now covers the whole of the UK with cycling maps. You need to pick your team.

Next you need to define your goal. All of Yorkshire? The National Parks? England and Wales? (Scotland is hard)

But seeing as it is a New Year and you are being honest with yourself: you want the whole set. If, like me, the first grown-up map you bought had a pink cover, then you will want a full set of OS Landrangers. Yep: all 204 of those beauties.

Now you’ve set your goal, it’s time to take stock, literally. Go through your maps, sort them into order and catalogue them. There is no point writing a list in a notepad: this is a job for a spreadsheet.

And, because spreadsheets are dull, add a bit of fun by keeping a map of your maps. Find an index map which shows the coverage of all the maps in the series: the kind often found on a maps back cover. Print this out, find a coloured pencil and then shade in all the squares of the maps you have. With each new map, you can fill in your spreadsheet, and colour in your map.

Please note that, once you are recording your maps, you are a proper collector, there’s no escaping the fact.

Filling the gaps

Hopefully, your ad hoc collecting days will have given you a good head start, and you may find you have, perhaps 20 odd maps. (I had 71.) The temptation is to look at your coloured in map index and start filling in the gaps, joining up the shaded blocks.

Rookie mistake. The chances are that these ones will be easy to get hold of in the coming weeks and months. If you cannot resist a purchase on Amazon, or a specialist map site, then purchase maps of remote places in Scotland. Places where nobody goes – where nobody buys the map.

Why? Because the other rookie mistake is to buy maps online. You’re paying more than you have to and it’s too easy, so it spoils the fun. The fun is in the hunt.

Your new favourite shop is the Oxfam Bookshop. I do not know why second maps migrate to Oxfam, and the Lancaster Branch in particular, but they do and they do it consistently.

You can expect to pay £2.49 for a map in Oxfam, but pricing varies around the country. Remember that Oxfam is a charity, so getting the best price may not be the main concern. I have found that spending £20 odd quid a month on maps is far more enjoyable than giving to charity through a monthly direct debit.

When you travel, search out local branches of Oxfam. There is no guarantee they will have maps, but the air of uncertainty just adds to the fun. Some Oxfam Bookshops are out in the suburbs or student districts, so drag you out to parts of cities you wouldn’t normally visit. I’ve taken a tram to Chorlton (shouldn’t have bothered) and a bus to Headingley (amazing, spent over £30). Far flung places have an added attraction: I bought three maps when I found myself in Clitheroe for no good reason.

Another task you will need to take on soon after you start collecting is to clear some space on your book shelf. The 80cm of shelf occupied by maps has steadily expanded. After a couple of years my cartographic colony had grown to cover over 4 metres of shelf real estate.

Having admitted to oneself that you are a map collector, it’s time to out yourself to friends and family. I hope you get the same enthusiastic response I received. Many of my nearest and dearest searched homes and cars for maps and emailed me with a list of maps they were happy to donate to my collection.

Creating an online list of my collection was a great aid. It was handy for me to check in on, and vital for my friends when they stumbled into a secondhand bookshop. Friends loved the hunt so much not one of them asked me to pay for the maps they bought me (I did offer), and one of them hunted down a couple of dozen for me.

Enjoying your maps

In all the searching, purchasing and cataloguing of your expanding collection it is easy to lose sight of the map. I have made one simple rule: I must unfold every map I buy and spend at least a couple of minutes enjoying it.

I’m well-travelled in the UK, so I’m always on the lookout for a map of an area I haven’t visited. More often than not, there is a sweep of a railway across one of the corners which I’ve journeyed along. Often I’m reminded of a journey half a lifetime ago: memories of a hangover in Fishguard, or the big argument with my girlfriend on the ferry to Skye. Happy days.

It may take years, but one day you may complete an entire series. For me it took a year for my initial 71 Landrangers to swell to 201. Another trip to Lancaster scored me two of the final three required. Once I’d catalogued them and coloured in my master map, I considered how long the hunt for the final Sheet would drag on for. Within 48 hours a friend called round my house and handed me Sheet 82 – and I had the full set.

That wasn’t the end. I’d already started collecting the series of maps that preceded the Landrangers, the One-Inch maps with classic red covers. I’ve got 90 per cent of those now.

I do use my maps, and they do leave the house. In a tragic incident in March 2017 I lost a bag containing three Landrangers (121: Lincoln & Newark-on-Trent, 116: Grimsby Louth & Market Rasen;  107: Kingston upon Hull Beverley & Driffield). It was a trauma, but not a disaster, because I already had duplicates of those sheets. No, I didn’t stop at a full set of 204 Landrangers, I have over 350 of them now.

It’s rare for a week to pass when I haven’t pulled a map off the shelf to look up something. Online mapping services are awesome and I use them literally every day, yet the absolute precision of 1:50000 scale map conveys more than the roads railways and buildings they represent. I have a much better understanding of where I am within a landscape with a paper map. This is I why I keep returning to them.

Occasionally I come up with other things to do with my collection. One afternoon I recreated my index map, using my maps. Don’t tell me I don’t know how to have fun.

The Landranger series displayed as you have always wanted to see them: Landranger Timelapse from Chris Sharp on Vimeo.

* I couldn’t find a name for a map collector, so I made one up.

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All images courtesy of the author.

 
 
 
 

Why is it acceptable to kill someone? On the mysterious history of Britain’s road death toll

A London speed camera, 2004. Image: Getty.

A decade ago I became fascinated by a graph. This one:

I had been tracking the underlining data for years. The figures were easy to remember. Every year it was 3,500, plus or minus a percentage point or two.

Yet when the 2008 data was released, it had fallen to 2,538. This was 1,000 less than the figure in 2003. I plotted the above graph, and as I said, I became fascinated.

Because this is a really important graph. This is a plot of the number of people killed on Britain’s roads each year.

In Great Britain, collectively, we used to kill nearly 3,500 people on our roads every year. Consistently or, dare I say it, boringly: 3,500 deaths a year, 10 a day. It was accepted, in a, “Well yes it’s bad, but what can you do about it” kind of way. There was no clamour for change. Newspapers weren’t running headlines about the deaths mounting up, as they do with knife crime.

Meanwhile a train crash would be front page news for a week. Take the train that derailed at Hatfield on 17 October 2000, a tragedy in which 4 people died. That led to huge media interest, massive upheaval on the railways, and, ultimately, as the re-nationalisation of Railtrack, whose failings had caused the crash. Yet more than twice as many people will have died on the roads that day. Nothing was written about those deaths. Nothing changed.

In 2000, four people died in train crashes, while 3,409 died on the roads.

Here are those figures again.

1997 – 3,599 people killed on our roads

1998 – 3,422

1999 – 3,423

2000 – 3,409

2001 – 3,450

2002 – 3,431

2003 – 3508

But, in 2004 the figure dropped below 3,400 for the first time, to 3,221. Then in 2005 to 3,201.

2006 – 3,172

2007 – 2,946

Below 3,000! This was change. Significant change: 500 lives a year were not being lost. If you use Britain’s roads, your life may have been one of them.

2008 – 2,538

2009 – 2,222

When the 2010 figures came out I was amazed by the headline figure: 1,857.

That’s still far too high, of course, but it was 1,701 lower than seven years earlier.

This was a major story that deserved a ton of coverage, which it failed to get. Having shown no concern for when we were killing 3,500 people, it wasn’t overly surprising that the fact we were now killing 1,700 fewer wasn’t celebrated.

At any rate, the graph had flat-lined for years, then, in half a dozen years, it halved. Why?

The lack of media coverage resulted in an absence of answers. One commentator, Christian Woolmar, observed that there was no clear answer to why this had happened. But he went on to point out that there had been a fall in the average road speed over this period.

My anticipation of the 2011 figures troubled me, because I expected them to go up. Obviously I didn’t want them to: I desperately want zero deaths on our roads. But something happened in 2010 that I was sure would lead to more fatalities and bring a halt to the falling trend.

I was right. In 2011 we killed 1,901.

Sometimes, being right is shit.

The news was better in 2012. The fatality rate was 1,754. So was the 2011 figure just a blip, due to some significant snowfalls that year? No: the trend was over.

The number of people killed on our roads has remained stuck in the 17 hundreds. 

2013 – 1,713

2014 – 1,775

2015 – 1,732

2016 – 1,792

2017 – 1,793

2018 – 1,782

We have returned to a flatline on the graph – and if anything, I’m more fascinated now than I was before. Road deaths flatlined at 3,500 for years, then fell sharply, then flatlined again at half the rate.

This can’t have happened by accident. I wished I could explain it. I wish we could repeat it. No: I wish the second flatline hadn’t happened, and the fall had continued. If the rate of fall had continued, we’d have reached zero deaths on the road by now. You’d be right to question whether this is possible – but if you can half the number in a few years, why can’t we eradicate them altogether? The railways are an example of what is possible. The last time a passenger died in a train crash on Britain’s railways was in 2007.

It was time to figure out the answers to two questions. Why did the death toll fall? And why did it stop falling?

The obvious reason for a reduction in deaths on the road is the improvement in car safety features. This could create a gradual fall in the death toll as new, safer cars replaced older ones. But I’m not sure it can explain a 40 per cent fall over a 4 year period.

There’s a way to check whether cars on the road became almost twice as safe between 2003 and 2010: you can compare the figures with the rest of the EU. Car safety features are international, and any new feature would have appeared around the same time across the continent.

So I found the EU figures for 2000 to 2017, indexed for 2000 and plotted the graph for multiple countries. It was a busy graph. For clarity the following graph only includes Britain, Germany, France, Spain and Italy along with a straight line drop for comparison.

The good news is that things are improving across Europe – but no country had quite the same trajectory as Britain. They all have a fall much closer to a straight line of the sort you’d expect a general improvement in car safety would produce.

One thing I did notice is that, from 2013, these five countries stop falling. The technology based solutions of recent years, such as automatic emergency braking, don’t appear to be saving lives as of yet.

So, yes, cars are safer – but that doesn’t seem to explain why British roads suddenly became 40 per cent safer between 2006 and 2010.


In 1999, the New Labour government announced that it was going to reduce deaths on our roads. The target was a 50 per cent reduction by 2010. As you now know, it succeeded. This was a major achievement for a government. The kind of thing you would bang on about all the time. “Deaths on our roads halved by Labour!” But the party wasn’t in government when the 2010 figures were released – and it’s hard to take credit for your achievements from the opposition benches.

That it was government policy is not a full explanation, and how this happened is a little opaque. From what I can gather there was a wide ranging approach. The fire and rescue service changed their practices: because they recognised that survival rates were directly dependent on how quickly people got to hospital, this became the priority. Disturbing a police crime scene was allowed if it saved a life. Accident black spots were located, highlighted and safety measures implemented. Throughout that period road safety campaigns focused on speed, with “Speed Kills” being the dominate message for that decade. The government also changed the laws on speed cameras.

RoSPA, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents, has a lot to say about speeding and speed cameras. Its “Speed Camera Factsheet” states that, “Cameras are a very effective way of persuading drivers not to speed, and thereby reducing the number of people killed and seriously injured.” It reports that an independent review published by the Department for Transport (DfT) in 2005 said that “cameras significantly reduce speeding and collisions, and cut deaths and serious injuries at camera sites”, adding that cameras sites were delivering 100 fewer deaths per year.

Cameras first appeared in 1991, and revenue from court fines and fixed penalties went to the Exchequer. However in 2000 a trial scheme saw local councils keep the fines to pay for the cost of speed and red-light cameras. The pilot was so successful that, in 2001, legislation enabled this to happen across the country. The cost of providing and operating cameras moved from the local authority to the law breaking motorist.

The golden age of the speed camera had begun.

There was a tweak to this legislation in 2007. Fines reverted back to the Exchequer’s piggy bank. The DfT switched to funding cameras through a road safety grant. The intention was to create a greater mix of road safety measures agreed between local authorities and the police.

The number of people killed on British roads in 2007: 2,946

The number of people killed on British roads in 2010: 1,857

So perhaps the creation of the Road Safety Grant had a significant impact.

The second question: why did the death toll stop falling?

In 2010 I was unaware of Labour’s target to halve deaths on the roads. But, the change in government was enough for me to predict that the fall was over.

When the Tory/Lib Dem government negotiated its way into power in May 2010, the press declared that it was the end of the horrible nanny state – a return to personal freedom, liberty and the rule of common sense.

The way that this was to play out in real practical terms was on our roads. The evil speed camera was in the firing line. The narrative was that these cameras were just there so councils could extract cash from the poor public. Completely ignored were the facts that the fines were only handed down to dangerous, law-breaking drivers, and that councils no longer got the cash from fines.

Soon after the election the coalition government said that “Labour's 13-year war on the motorist is over” and pledged to scrap public funding for speed cameras. The Road Safety Grant to local authorities was cut from £95m to £57m. This meant that the government was now receiving an estimated £40m more raised in fines than it was spending on road safety. The cut to the grant reduced the camera maintenance budget by 27 per cent. It removed all the funding for new cameras, speed humps and other safety measures.

And the golden age ended.

Councils across the country announced their change of policy. Oxfordshire County Council switched off its speed cameras on 1 August 2010. Money was saved; lives were lost.

Eight months later, on 1 April, Oxfordshire’s cameras snapped back into life when the council reversed its decision because deaths on the county’s roads had immediately increased.

Turning off speed cameras sent out the message that we were no longer taking speeding seriously. The road safety campaigns changed their focus. The message that Speed Kills fell away and was replaced by drink- and drug-driving messages. It’s easy to miss that these campaigns move from encompassing virtually every driver to targeting a minority. A switch from confronting a socially acceptable behaviour to re-enforcing something already unacceptable. The state is no longer challenging everyone to be safe – only the small minority of bad people.

Yet speed still kills. The World Health Organisation states that an increase in average speed of 1 km[h typically results in a 3 per cent higher risk of a crash involving injury, with a 4–5 per cent increase for crashes that result in fatalities.
The majority of safety measures installed before 2010 remain in place and are saving lives. But with the funding gone councils are no longer installing new measures and the death toll is no longer falling.

So you can make a strong case that the pattern of road deaths was the result of government policy.

Which begs the question of our government: why has it accepted that it’s OK to kill, or be killed, on our roads?