A parliamentary meeting about cycling provision along the route of HS2 showed me that MPs just don’t get it

These are not most cyclists. Image: Getty.

There is a moment in Ben Elton’s novel Gridlock, when a small group of rail enthusiasts are left alone in the basement of a building while car industry lobbyists are upstairs talking with ministers about the real business of building roads. I was reminded of it recently at a Parliamentary committee meeting on HS2, the high speed rail line between London and Birmingham. But this time, rail was the real business – and it was cycling in the figurative basement.

Here’s the context. Cycling UK, a charity, was trying to hold HS2 Ltd to account for its promises to ‘cycle proof’ the route. This means considering cycling at the design stage: tunnels and bridges are very expensive to retrofit, so getting the extra width in at the start is key. If you don’t, communities all along the 330 mile route will be permanently prevented from cycling safely to their neighbours, schools, shops etc., across the tracks.

The first phase of HS2, from London to the West Midlands, is already considered a write-off as far as cycle crossings are concerns: the government-owned HS2 Ltd. has told the cycle proofing working group (CPWG), the group of experts it is supposed to consult on the subject, that it didn’t have enough money in the £56bn project to think about cyclists.

The company looks set to use the same excuse on phase 2a, from West Midlands to Crewe, after a letter from its director, Oliver Bayne, referred to the “principles” rather than the “applicable aspects” of design standards. This is a worry: design standards mean the difference between a safe, traffic-free cycle route anyone can use, and sharing a fast, narrow main road lane with lorries.

Cycling UK’s policy director Roger Geffen, and his expert witnesses, John Grimshaw and Phil Jones, arrived at the Parliamentary committee room at around 9.30am; I was present, covering it for the Guardian. We waited – only to be told at around 11.30am to come back after lunch.

At 1.45pm, Geffen was finally allowed to set out his case. He argued that communities along the routes to be able to walk and cycle safely. He explained the need for design standards, and safe, direct-vision standard vehicles. 

The MPs, though, didn’t seem to understand. The first question from the chair of the committee was an expression of surprise Roger wasn’t wearing Lycra. That’s like asking someone advocating for better pedestrian facilities why they don’t turn up to Parliament wearing running shoes and a sweat wicking vest.

The chair also failed to understand why design standards were relevant, and eventually, growing frustrated, stopped Geffen entirely, forcing him to bring on his witness, Phil Jones, a leading expert on cycling infrastructure, without introducing him or his credentials. Jones had just a couple of minutes to explain why HS2’s design standards were exactly the wrong kind if you wanted people to be able to cycle safely. By now, it was almost 3pm.


At one point an MP asked why contractors should use safer lorries, given the potential impact on delivering “best value for the public purse”. This question, with its implication that cost savings trump human lives, was astounding. I don’t know if she understood this implication, but Geffen paused, politely, before pointing out that there is also a cost when companies kill cyclists – an attempt to state the potential outcome of poor vehicle standards, using the MP’s own metrics.

Next came John Grimshaw, co-founder of the national cycle infrastructure delivery charity, Sustrans. Grimshaw is delivering, on his own initiative, a whole new cycle route, the Waddesdon Greenway, complete with crossings, where HS2 cuts through Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire. This has meant negotiating with landowners, raising money, the lot. His partner even obtained a newt licence.

Grimshaw noted that he had personally negotiated access for a new cycling bridge ramp from the Rothschilds – infrastructure of a kind that would also help those with mobility issues, such as wheelchair users. And yet, he said, HS2 were still reluctant to put the ramp in, even though it would cost “pennies”.

At this point, it’s worth noting that the return on investment for cycling infrastructure ranges from £5.50 to £35 per £1 spent. HS2 has an ROI of just £1.47. What’s more, much of that comes from the business benefits of cutting travel times, rather than from anything experienced by communities along the route.

Last up was Peter Miller, director of environment for HS2 Ltd. He said it was difficult to cost cycling infrastructure, and questioned whether there was any desire for cycle crossings from communities along the route anyway. He was led through his points by HS2 Ltd’s QC, during which time one MP challenged him to say that not designing for cycling at the start would rule it out forever. During some of his claims on HS2’s provision for cycling, Phil Jones, in his frustration, murmured “rubbish”. Before we knew, it was over.

Geffen has often said that, before making the case for cycling infrastructure, you have to make the case for cycling. For some politicians cycling looks like men in Lycra on weekend jollies, not normal people doing everyday journeys. Phil Jones said he left feeling bullied – that during 30 or more such Parliamentary meetings in his career he’d never been treated this way.

Once HS2 is built many smaller roads will be blocked off, leaving fewer crossings, inevitably with heavier traffic, without cycle infrastructure. The last time I cycled on a rural dual carriageway I was nearly mown down by a lorry, before a fallen branch tore off my front mudguard, stopping me dead: I had been too terrified of being run over by another passing lorry to swerve to avoid it. I continued my journey by pushing my bike along the grass verge, thankful to be alive.

Instead of looking to the future, those making decisions on how we travel are recreating the very conditions that result in obesity, air pollution and reliance on expensive private transport. Manchester mayor Andy Burnham recently called active travel an “orphan policy” in Whitehall; and MP Ruth Cadbury has said that mentions of cycling often elicit figurative eye rolls in Parliament.

I now get what they mean. What I saw was a worrying insight into why our government seems determined, not just to sideline cycling, but to stubbornly refuse to see the point of it at all.

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A helpful and informative guide to London, for the benefit of the New York Times editorial board

The sun rises over quaint old London town. Image: Getty.

It’s like with family members you hate: it’s fine for you to slag them off, but if anyone else has, you’re up in muted, backhanded arms about it.

Yesterday, the world’s number one London fan the New York Times tweeted a request for experiences of petty crime in the city. This was met by a deluge of predictably on-brand snark, like “Sometimes people scuff my leg and only apologise once”, and “Dicks who stand on the left-hand-side of tube escalators”. This served the dual purpose of uniting a divided London, and proving to the NYT that we are exactly the kind of chippy bastards who deserve to constantly lose their phones and wallets to petty crime.

By way of thanks for that brief endorphin rush, and in hopes of leading things in a more positive direction, I’d like to offer the Times this uplifting guide to London, by me, a Londoner.

I take my London like I take my coffee: on foot. If you are with someone special, or like me, like to reimagine your life in the format of Netflix dramady as you walk alone on Sundays, I can highly recommend the Thames Path as a place to start.

Kick things off next to Westminster, where we keep our national mace in the House of Commons. Useful though the mace might prove in instances of street theft, it is critical that it is never moved from the House. It acts as a power source for our elected representatives, who, if the mace is moved, become trapped in endless cycles of pointless and excruciatingly slow voting.

Cross Westminster Bridge to the Southbank, where in the manner of a spoiled 2018 Oliver Twist, you can beg for a hot chocolate or cup of chestnuts at the Christmas market for less that £8. Remember to hold your nose, the mutton vats are pungent. Doff your cap to the porridge vendor. (LOL, as if we make muttons in vats anymore. Box your own ears for your foolishness.) Then buy some hemp milk porridge, sprinkle with frankincense and myrrh, and throw it at the pigeons. There are thousands.

In the spring, head a little further south through Waterloo station. If you pass through the other side without getting ABBA stuck in your head, Napoleon’s ghost will appear to grant you three wishes.

Proceed to the Vaults, which is like the rabbit warrens in Watership Down, but for actors and comedians. No-one knows the correct way in, so expect to spend at least 45 minutes negotiating a series of increasingly neon graffiti tunnels. Regret not going to art school, and reward yourself upon your eventual entry with a drink at the bar. Browse the unintelligible show programme, and in no circumstances speak to any actors or comedians.

When you emerge from the Vaults three days later, turn back towards the river and head east. Enjoy the lights along the Thames while you pick at the spray paint stains on your coat. 


After about 20 minutes, you will reach the Tate Modern, which stands opposite St Paul’s Cathedral. Close to sunset, the sky, water, and cathedral might turn a warm peach colour. The Tate remains grey, coldly confident that for all its brutalist outline, it was still fantastically expensive to build. Feel grateful for that loose knit jumper you stole from the Vaults, and go inside.

Spend two minutes absorbing the largest and most accessible art, which is in the turbine hall, then a further hour in the museum shop, which is next to it. Buy three postcards featuring the upstairs art you skipped, and place them in your bag. They will never see the light of day again.

Head further east by way of Borough Market. Measure your strength of character by seeing how many free samples you are prepared to take from the stalls without buying anything. Leave disappointed. Continue east.

At Tower Bridge, pause and take 6,000 photos of the Tower of London and the view west towards parliament, so that people know. Your phone is snatched! Tut, resolve to take the embarrassment with you to your grave rather than shame Her Majesty's capital, and cross the river.

On the other side of the Bridge, you could opt to head north and slightly east to Shoreditch/Brick Lane/Whitechapel, where you can pay to enjoy walking tours describing how some pervert murdered innocent women over a century ago.

Don’t do that.

Instead, head west and north. through the City, until you reach Postman’s Park, which is a little north of St Paul’s, next to St Bartholomew's hospital. Go in, and find the wall at the far end. The wall is covered in plaques commemorating acts of extraordinary and selfless bravery by the city’s inhabitants. Read all of them and fail to hold back tears.

Then tweet about it.