Last year I was startled to find Gilbert and George waiting at the bus stop outside the HollyWood Green cinema on Wood Green High Road.

It was then less of a surprise to find a large picture entitled "Towards Wood Green" in the pairs' latest exhibition of Contemporary cityscapes "Scapegoating for London" at the White Cube Gallery, Bermondsey.

In a Guardian interview about the current show, Spitalfields based Gilbert and George reveal that their favourite London Bus journey is the 67 to Wood Green:

Our favourite bus journey is the number 67 from Christ Church Spitalfields to Wood Green passing through Stamford Hill where we see the Orthodox Jewish costumes that are really amazing. In Wood Green, we find another cosmological mad wonderful world. And we love the Turkish chicken soup.

What's your favourite London Bus Journey?

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I'm fond of the number 19 and have ridden it from Angel to Kings Rd several times great for sight seeing and one of last of the routemasters.

To get half way home the 341 has the amazing Thames view and the promise of Angel Rd Superstores as it's destination.

The W3 cutting through Ally Pally is pretty romantic too!

On 15 July my partner suggested taking the 67 bus back home from Hoxton Sq. It's likely it was my first time on the route and it WAS a memorable journey.

It was a warm, slightly sticky summer's evening like we've been having for past few weeks. Seated behind me were middle-aged community activists talking about their ideas and ideals. They got off the bus half way, the man and woman each carrying one straps of a heavy carpet bag of groceries. I saw a larger than life character sitting at a street side restaurant table gesticulating and talking animatedly to his two companions. Why and about what I don't know. All the time new people getting on and off and others angrily shouting at the driver as they arrive too late to board.

We passed a group of ultra-Orthodox kids on their bikes watching as an arrest was made. 30 Meters down the road a double decker was wrapped in crime scene police tape, a few police vans parked in front. Pale ultra-orthodox mothers stood around calmly talking, their kids chattering nearby while a triplet of serious men walked past briskly in their matching black gaberdine coats. 

Across the aisle was a west African man dressed in a traditional colourful outfit chatting to someone on the phone in another language. And then the ethnic composition of the street changed to lots Carribean traders at small tables in front of shops.

My daughters claim that they saw digital advertising placed on the roof of a bus shelter, it's designed to be able to be viewed only by bus passengers from the top deck–I was downstairs so I have to take their word for it. And there was a fleeting view of a grand mansion that had a blue plaque: "Luke Howard 1772-1864 namer of clouds lived and died here." 

I was enthralled.

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