星空传媒

In the architect's drawings and models, the proposal for a new community on the Thames far to the east of London looks idyllic, perhaps even utopian. Clean, modern blocks built using the latest construction techniques rise in ordered files away to the horizon, while residents enjoy tree-shaded canals and placid lakes studded with boats.

The community in this vision was Thamesmead, the Greater London Council's idealistic stab at solving the capital's acute post-war housing problems and addressing the problem of overcrowded, bomb-damaged East End slums. The first residents arrived in 1968. But the plans quickly turned sour and, by 1971, the estate had deteriorated so far, so fast that it came to encapsulate another futuristic vision: director Stanley Kubrick's idea of a violent urban dystopia in the film A Clockwork Orange.

And that might very well have been that for Thamesmead, London SE28. The capital's most numerically extreme postcode could have been written off as a failed experiment in state planning and social engineering. After all, the marshes of Woolwich and Erith were the home of nothing but dirty industry, sewage works, Belmarsh prison and arms dumps. On top of all that, the area sits on 20 ft of peat and, until the construction of the Thames barrier in 1986, it was prone to regular flooding.

Now the Thames east of London is back at the top of the political agenda, however, and is once again being touted as the solution to the capital's housing shortage, how is the original Thames Gateway faring?

On an oppressively overcast and humid June morning, Thamesmead doesn't look anything like the ideal solution to a housing problem or like a forgotten, decaying estate. Since 2000, the town's 4500 homes have been managed by Gallions Housing Association. Driving around the town, Gallions' impact is clear, as is the fact that Thamesmead has a lot going for it. Gallions is unusual for a registered social landlord in two respects: first, the vast majority of its stock is in the area of the original Thamesmead masterplan, a clearly defined district, and second, it manages a vast amount of green space, waterways and lakes 鈥� maintaining them all costs 拢2m a year. The purple trucks of Team Gallions, the RSL's direct-labour organisation, are visible everywhere.

The instantly recognisable part of Thamesmead is the Tavy Bridge estate, the earliest part of the development and the area immortalised by Kubrick. From the road, it does not look promising 鈥� ranks of concrete high rises linked by a warren of passages and walkways.

It was the design of these blocks that helped sow the estate's problems. Because of the flooding risk before the construction of the Thames barrier, residential development was not permitted at ground level. Shops and flats only start on the first floor, condemning the ground to become a threatening labyrinth of underpasses and garages.

But this immediate impression is misleading. Parking the car in a small green area to the north of Tavy Bridge, one is immediately presented with the large, tree-fringed lake that forms the centre of the estate. Swans and geese are resting here, and small boats bob in the water. Looking across the lake at the towers of the estate, it is possible for a moment to see exactly what the 1960s planners had in mind.

Julia Nisbet, the development officer from Gallions who is showing Housing Today around, takes us to see some of the lakeside mosaics that were designed by local artists and assembled by young people from the estate.

"Although we do get graffiti," Nisbet says, "you'll never see any on the murals."

Towards the southernmost point of the lake, where the estate's facilities are mostly based, it becomes livelier. Tavy Bridge is organised around a raised arcade of shops and overlooks a health centre and a new playground. The noise of the children playing adds life to what would otherwise be a rather dispiriting windswept stretch of concrete. But this area, where the estate is presently at its worst, is where Gallions' regeneration plans are focused.

The arcade houses the new headquarters of the 拢18m Tavy Bridge Project, the body set up to handle the estate's renewal, which has moved from Gallions office down the road to the centre in order to be more inclusive. This commitment stands out thanks to a large sign outside inviting residents to pop in and put forward their views on the future of the area. We go in 鈥� a couple of people are already inside, looking at the plans and answering questionnaires. The plans are ambitious: the plaza and the network of walkways around it will be demolished, opening up the estate and refocusing it on a new, ground-level market square surrounded by shops, community facilities and a new health centre. The long walkways linking the blocks of housing will be broken up to prevent their misuse.

While we are in the office, one of the locals filling out a questionnaire is spotted by a couple of his friends, who come in to ask what he's doing. "I'm doing my bit for the community," he replies. "Community? Since when have you ever been interested in the community?" one of his friends bats back. They chat for a few minutes before leaving, but their friend stays put. He wants to finish the questionnaire. The project is plainly attracting plenty of interest and involvement from unlikely quarters.

We move on to the first, small step taken towards the project's plans, a green area and boulder feature completed with single regeneration budget funding 鈥� the "mini monolith", Nisbet jokes. It is not exactly an inspirational symbol of the renewal of Tavy Bridge. Indeed, it serves as a reminder of how severe many of the estate's problems are, and how they go far beyond the cosmetic.

Still, after three decades of neglect, the huge private construction schemes that ring the area, the endless parks and water features, and the enthusiasm of the staff and residents are all promising signs.

But Tavy Bridge is also a warning and those now getting starry-eyed about the potential of the Thames Gateway would do well to pay a visit to Thamesmead. It has taken Thamesmead 35 years to recover from the misconceptions, stereotypes and misguided idealism that surrounded its creation and early history. It went from being a testing ground for new communities to be a dumping ground for the worst of the old. If they are to fulfil their promise, the shining Prescottgrads that rise around the Thames must not repeat its mistakes 鈥� but they would do well to watch its coming rebirth.