Forget road bridges. TfL should extend the London Overground to Thamesmead and Abbey Wood

The bustling transport hub that is Thamesmead town centre. Image: Darryl Chamberlain.

Listen carefully to local politicians in the east of London, and there's a low mantra you keep on hearing. A mantra of desperation.

"River crossings... jobs and investment... river crossings... jobs and investment..."

Newham's elected mayor may not be standing in Beckton, staring at Thamesmead with a tear in his eye; and the leader of Bexley Council may not be gazing over at Rainham, wondering what it'd be like to for her to be closer to the marshes there.

But getting between east and south-east London can be a pain, whether by road or rail. The River Thames widens dramatically once you pass Woolwich, and the communities on either side of the water have very little to do with each other.

That simple fact of geography has always been with us as London has grown. But in the recent years, it's been blamed for low employment levels in these riverside communities.

In this narrative, the area's problems have little to do with the decline of established industries – the Royal Arsenal, the docks, the Ford car plant at Dagenham – and the lack of new employment to replace them.

Neither does it have anything to do with London's politicians building a whole new town on the south bank – Thamesmead – with utterly inadequate public transport, leaving much of it more than a mile from a railway station. The nearest its residents get to fast, easy travel are London City Airport-bound jets roaring over their heads.

No, it's just evil geography to blame. Doing nothing is not an option, these politicians declare. But while elsewhere in London, public transport is improved and steps are promised to clean up the air, here, they want to build thumping great roads instead.

New roads would be ridiculed elsewhere

In most of the rest of London, laying down new tarmac would be met with ridicule. The capital is too scarred by memories of the London Motorway Box, which threatened to destroy now-desirable areas such as Hackney, Highbury and West Hampstead.

But south east London is a part of town that’s underneath the key on most maps. It’s always been expected to put up with second best.

Three crossings are proposed. By far the most advanced is the Silvertown Tunnel, four miles west of Thamesmead.

This road between the Greenwich Peninsula and Royal Docks – both already being redeveloped off the back of new public transport – will do little to connect areas that are currently lying dormant. Instead, it's an add-on to the Blackwall Tunnel, aimed at solving congestion there. 

But the plan is fatally flawed. It shares Blackwall’s already-congested southern approach, and is designed to allow HGVs easier access to streets north of the river.

It’s more likely to generate more traffic on its approaches and overwhelm local roads, creating new bottlenecks elsewhere and exacerbating already poor pollution problems.

Don't take my word for it – those are the findings of a report commissioned by Greenwich council. Greenwich dumped the report and supported the tunnel anyway.

But Hackney council recently passed a motion opposing it; Southwark and Lewisham councils have serious doubts about the scheme, too.

The other road crossings are planned to the east and west of Thamesmead – entrenching car dependency in an area the capital’s decision-makers created, then forgot about.

Ease demand by giving Thamesmead the Overground

Congestion is a London-wide problem, not just a parochial issue at a few bottlenecks. The Silvertown Tunnel won't do a thing to solve that. And without a serious effort to cut traffic across the capital, all of these crossings are doomed to failure.

Yet if London's ready to spend £1bn on a river crossing, then we should go easy on the tarmac. One solution would not just help ease demand on Blackwall Tunnel, but also spark interest in London’s neglected new town without putting an extra car on the roads. It's extending the London Overground, from Barking to Thamesmead and Abbey Wood.

The Gospel Oak to Barking line used to be the runt of London's railway litter, with clapped-out diesel trains wheezing their way across north-east London at miserly 45-minute frequencies.

Since 2007, it's been transformed as part of the London Overground network, with four new trains per hour, often full to bursting. Plans are afoot to electrify it and extend it onto Barking Riverside, a huge housing development by the Thames that's been on hold until decent public transport can be arranged.

That sprinkle of Overground magic is set to be the catalyst for 10,000 new homes on the brownfield site.

Yet despite the clamour for ways of making the Thames easier to cross, taking the extension on a couple of miles further, to Abbey Wood, isn’t on the agenda.

The effects would be dramatic. Thamesmead residents would be finally plugged into the London rail network for the first time since the town was founded in 1967, while Barking Riverside residents would gain an interchange with Crossrail at Abbey Wood.

Northbound traffic in the Blackwall Tunnel in the morning rush hour. The red diamonds are the vehicles' origin; blue squares its destination. The proposed Overground extension is shown in yellow. Image: TfL/Darryl Chamberlain.

It could also take pressure off the roads. A hefty chunk of Blackwall Tunnel traffic comes from Thamesmead, from people who end up driving because their current transport options are so poor. The area’s “town centre” is served only by a pair of poorly-placed bus stops.

Politicians are waking up to the idea – but they need to move fast

Why isn’t it happening already? Thamesmead and Abbey Wood are missing out because of short-term thinking at London's City Hall. Just as with the Bakerloo and Northern line extensions, the Barking Riverside extension is intended to regenerate land that has seen little development.

Creating new links to serve existing communities is at the bottom of the priority list. A Thamesmead Overground connection languishes on TfL’s wishlist for the year 2050. If London’s politicians are serious about reviving the community they forgot, they need to be pushing this up the list as soon as they can.

If only. TfL's map of the Overground in 2026, with the Thamesmead extension drawn on in crayons. Image: TfL/Darryl Chamberlain.

Some already are. Barking & Dagenham council leader Darren Rodwell was the first to call for it last year.

A petition from the No to Silvertown Tunnel campaign was followed by action from two Labour assembly members. Fiona Twycross asked if building a new station at Barking Riverside that could quickly become redundant was a waste of money, while Len Duvall suggested that an extension that didn’t cross the river was a missed opportunity.

Only a fool would pretend the puzzle of making it easier to cross the Thames is an easy one to solve. But the people of Barking and Thamesmead deserve the same sustainable solutions that are being proposed elsewhere.

Occasionally, an extension of the Docklands Light Railway is suggested for Thamesmead – usually to make one of the road bridges seem more palatable. Yet an Overground link would dramatically widen opportunities for Thamesmead’s residents to get around the capital compared with the slow and limited options provided by the already-overloaded DLR.

In May, a new mayor will have to decide what to do with Boris Johnson’s transport legacy. Whoever gets the job should ditch the £1bn Silvertown Tunnel – a project that’s doomed to failure. Instead, he or she should start putting the river crossings programme on a sustainable track, and bring the Overground to Thamesmead.

Darryl Chamberlain is a writer and one of the founders of the No To Silvertown Tunnel campaign. He blogs at 853

 
 
 
 

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.