Metropolitan
Line Section 2: Northwick Park to Aldgate
Bearing in
mind we only have 10 unbagged Metropolitan stations to visit, I have an
ambitious walking plan for this trip. If I walk from Finchley Road station to
the next station, Baker Street, then I can also take in two Jubilee Line stations,
and one former station in between. Even allowing for stopping to take photos, I
ought to be able to easily do the walk in an hour. Knocking off these two
stations will mean that the Jubilee Line will be a relatively leisurely one
single trip.
Northwick Park is one of
those stations which seems to not only lend itself to being used for tube
rhyming slang, it positively demands it – Northwick Park – looks better in the
dark. It probably does, too. As we’ve already noticed, stations tacked onto the
side of an overhead line are not the best, and this is even more true for
stations actually built into a glorified railway arch, as is the case here.
There is actually some attempt at ornamentation on the entrance, which I’m
guessing are original features, like the stone work on either side of the
doorway, and the arches of the windows which have sadly been bricked and
plastered in. The stonework, painted over as it is, does at least suggest that
the station has a bit of age to it, as do the remains of the windows, and I
wouldn’t be surprised if it is the original station building. Wikipedia is
unforthcoming. However, Wikipedia does alert me to the fact that Kenton station
on the Bakerloo is nearby, and I am sorely tempted to knock off another
Bakerloo. My mind is made up though, when I see that a train is soon due. This
is only a slow service station, so there’s no way that I’m going to look this
gift horse in the mouth.
The current station at the next stop, Preston Road, was built in 1931, when the station was resited from
one side of the road to the opposite. There’s two things which I find
especially of note about the station. Firstly, the platforms have flower beds,
which is quite unusual, and they’re filled with plenty of trees, bushes and
other plants. I’m not in the least horticulturally inclined, but I like it. It
gives the station an exotic feel, and for a moment I half think about
entertaining the only other person on the platform, a lady of indeterminate age
whose hair is dyed red enough to make a statement, that statement being ‘I am
trying too hard’, by pretending to be a Japanese soldier who hasn’t been told
the war is over. Thankfully the urge passes. The other interesting thing about
the station is the appearance of the exterior. The station itself is in the
middle of a 1930s parade of shops which isn’t maybe quite the full Metroland
experience of Watford and Croxley, but certainly owes more to them than to the
stuff that Charles Holden was designing at the same time on other lines.
Wembley Park provides some happy
memories. I used to go to the huge open air market on a Sunday morning, not far
from the station, and three years in a row, 1981-3, I cycled early on the
morning after the FA cup final to the stadium to buy tickets for the cup final replays.
Two of these were great games, and the other. . . not so much. My sketch shows
the modern entrance on Olympic Way, and surely the steps are meant to echo the
sight of football ground terracing. In the same way the pipes above the canopy
echo the Wembley Arch. That’s a clever design. I haven’t been to a game
in the rebuilt stadium yet, but that’s on my to do list. As for the
area, well, it’s interesting to think that at the start of the 20
th
century this was just fields owned by the Metropolitan Railway. The chairman of
the railway, a chap called Edmund Watkin, conceived the good idea to build
Wembley Park here, and the less conspicuously good idea to build London’s
answer to the Eiffel Tower here. The first stage only was built, but the ground
proved prone to subsidence, and frankly the paying public weren’t interested in
it. After Watkin’s de
ath the constructed first stage was quietly demolished –
although in aerial photographs taken during construction of the original
Wembley Stadium you can clearly see where one of the footings of the
tower had been.
I leave the
Metropolitan behind for a while at Finchley
Road. The current station building was built as part of a parade of shops
in 1914, and while the block is not as grand as you’d normally expect from the
decade or so leading up to the First World War, there’s no mistaking that it’s
very much of its time. Google throws up this wee gobbet, that it was during
excavation for the deep level Bakerloo – now Jubilee – line tunnels close to
the station that it was discovered that this was the southern limit of an ice
age glacier. Although if you’ve stood on the platform of Hillingdon station in
the winter for any length of time it feels as if said glacier never quite got
round to melting.
The Metropolitan line goes non stop to Baker Street, but I’m in no
mood to pass up the chance of mopping up a couple of Jubilee line stations, and
a disused station by walking between them. It’s a walk of slightly less than 10
minutes to Swiss Cottage
station.
Which is just as well, since if it had taken any longer I would feel very hard
done by when I catch sight of the station. I haven’t ever been to Switzerland,
but anything less like a cottage is difficult to imagine. Granted, the station
has a subterranean ticket hall so I certainly don’t expect an ornate surface
building, but I honestly think that a plain unadorned set of steps would be
better than what’s here, a straight, blocky pillar of the dreaded grey bricks,
the only relief on its sides being an information poster at ground level, and
the roundel at the top. Who was it, I can’t help wondering, who first looked at
a red brick and thought “Yeah, it’s okay, but it’d look nicer in grey.”? And
more to the point, why? Part of me feels relieved that at least I won’t have to
look at this again on my Jubilee line trip. This is another station whose name,
ultimately, derives from a pub. The Swiss Cottage area takes its name from the
1804 Swiss Tavern, which was built in the style of a Swiss chalet. There you
go.
One of the
appeals of doing this section on foot is that the route is easy. I stay on the
A41, and I’d say a good fifteen minutes later I’m passing the former
Marlborough Road station. Mind you, I only know that it’s a former station due
to the little bit of research I did prior to commencing this trip. It’s quite
an appealing little building too, single storey, with two arched windows
reaching all the way to the ground on either side of the slightly larger arched
doorway. Style wise it doesn’t really seem all that similar to any of the other
station buildings that are still standing that I’ve seen. I’d venture to say
Victorian, and may even be the original station building from 1868. Up until
about 10 years ago it was a restaurant, but now it houses a substation, sadly.
I say sadly, but if it means that the building’s exterior is left untouched and
unmessed about with then I won’t complain. Does the paint have to be so dull,
though?
Another couple of minutes along the Finchley Road is St. John’s Wood station. My first thought when I see the brown bricks,
curved frontage and glazed screen is that it’s a Charles Holden, but a quick
google reveals that this is in fact a Stanley Heaps station from 1939, during his
late, Holdenesque period. St. John’s Wood is the answer to a trivia quiz
question which has done the rounds over the years – which is the only tube
station which does not contain any of the same letters as the word Mackerel.
Mind you, as Wikipedia rather sniffily points out, this is only because the
Saint is abbreviated to St. I do wonder sometimes whether there is a wayward
genius sitting in bare, unfurnished loft or basement somewhere, carefully
crafting these trivia questions, then releasing them onto the net to cause
mayhem. Me, I’m lucky if I come up with something like ‘which line on the
London tube map is coloured red? (no looking in your diaries)
I could get
back on the train and take the Jubilee into Baker Street, but stuff it. I am
steeped in blood so far that go back were as tedious as go o’er, or something
like that. Besides, the walk to Baker Street tube, takes me past Lords Cricket
Ground, (which once had its own station but lost it, unlike the Oval), and
Regents Park. Also, being a huge Beatles fan, I know that with a little
judicious juggling of my route I can cross the famous Abbey Road zebra. All in
all , what with detours and lingering in various spots it takes me slightly
more than half an hour before I reach Baker
Street, but I can’t help feeling it’s worth it.
A few years ago I visited Budapest. Budapest’s metro is the second
oldest metro system in the world, and the oldest in continental Europe. Third
oldest in Europe? Glasgow, thanks for playing anyway. Although perfectly
efficient, I wasn’t impressed with the stations, poorly decorated and dimly lit
for the most part. However, in the centre of the city I kept noticing signs for
the metro which looked far nicer, and more deliberately old fashioned, than the
others. These, it transpired, belong to the historic Line 1, which was the
original metro line in Budapest. I don’t know if this is the case for all
stations on line 1, but the two I visited were decorated in period fashion, and
my first thought emerging on the platform was that they reminded me a bit of
the original platforms at Baker Street.
Not the
exterior, mind you. This, as far as I have been able to ascertain, is another
Charles Clark building. Nothing wrong with that, either. In some ways it’s just
a little reminiscent of the station he built at Paddington which we visited on
the District line trip, although that station doesn’t have a 1920s residential
building on top of it like Baker Street does.
Baker Street
is a major station on the oldest part of the Underground network, and it really
doesn’t want you to forget it, nor should it, in my opinion. Nor does it want
you to forget Baker Street’s most famous, albeit fictional, resident, with
Sherlock Holmes’ profile prominently displayed on tiles on the platform.
There’s enough period ambience when you’re waiting for the Hammersmith and City
line, for example, that you can almost believe that at any minute a steam train
might come along, pulling what looks like a coal truck with William Gladstone
sitting in the front amongst others. Doesn’t happen, though. Humming Gerry
Rafferty’s Baker Street brings nothing but a funny look from a fellow
passenger, and I cut my losses to head off to Great Portland Street.
Strictly speaking I could take the Circle line or the Hammersmith and
City and it wouldn’t make a lot of difference. Thankfully, though, I don’t have
to work my way through any ethical dilemma about the purity of the challenge,
since there’s a Metropolitan line train ready when I’m ready to go. Emerging
from the station building I take a good look, and decide that old Charlie C
must have really decided to go wild with the design, since it’s built in what
appears to be the shape of an elongated letter O, standing quite apart from all
of the other buildings all around it. There must have been something in the air
around this particular area of Central London, since it’s not at all far from
the BBC’s iconic Broadcasting House, the original building of which is a
wonderful, mad, curving wedding cake of a building, and the inspired silliness
of All Souls Church in the shadow of Broadcasting House. My feet might be
hurting a bit, but I am sorely tempted to go for a wander. However as we all
know, in our tube rhyming slang, Great Portland Street – aching feet, and since
there’s still 4 stations to stop at, and 3 more to pass through on the way I
hop back onto the train.
I have an instant flashback when I stand back and take a good look at
the entrance to Euston Square
station. While Baker Street memories were inspired by a visit to Budapest, the
entrance to Euston Square, is slightly reminiscent of stations I’ve used on the
Prague Metro, where large shiny glass and chrome or stainless steel booths
house lifts which whisk you down to the ticket halls. It’s a bit more to do
with the colours and the overall aesthetic than anything else, but based on my
travels on the Prague and Budapest metros, the Berlin U Bahn, and the Stockholm
T Bana, I think I can say that this is one of the stations closest to the
‘contemporary north-European Metro station design’ ethic that I’ve yet seen on
the network. I can’t say that I dislike it, but somehow it’s just not the Tube.
Because, although I love metros, subways and all underground railways, there’s
only one Tube, and the Tube is not like any other network. Sometimes in a bad
way, sure, but I’m afraid that I cherish the Tube for its individuality.
I pass through Kings Cross on what I think is the third occasion
during the challenge, and alight at Farringdon.
Its best known claim to fame is that it was the eastern terminus of the world’s
first underground railway, of course. That original station only lasted a
couple of years. In 1865, when the extension to Moorgate was built, it was
necessary to relocate the station. Newspaper engravings of this second station
show a rather grand building, reminiscent of a much larger version of the
disused station at Marlborough Road, lending credence to my belief that this
may be the original building. The 1866 building was replaced in the 1920s with
an even grander Charles Clark building, which incorporated some rather modern
bays with rounded corners jutting out alongside the station entrance, with the
rather more traditional stonework of the second storey. This building is still
here, I’m happy to say, however there is also an entrance to the underground
through the rather new National Rail building opposite the old one. In style I
suppose that I’d say it is closest to Tottenham Court Road, although the
similarity is by no means marked, since the front of Tottenham Court road is
somewhat wedged shape, with the roof sloping gently, compared to the flat roofs
and flat frontage here. It still looks impressive, but then it’s not ten years
old yet. Time will tell if it retains its appeal.
It’s probably my age – in fact it’s definitely my age – but every
time I hear or read the name Barbican,
I have a flashback to Lawrie McMenemy, former Southampton FC manager,
advertising Barbican Alcohol Free Lager on television (“Barbican – it’s brewed
like a true lager, man, but then some silly bugger takes all the alcohol oot.”)
The station is the nearest to the wonderful Museum of London. The last time I
was here was in 2007. I was in the grand final of a well known television quiz
show, answering questions on London Bridge. As part of the show, the BBC wanted
to make a filmed insert with each of the finalists. One of the others got to go
to Venice. Me? London Bridge itself, then the Museum of London, after closing
hours, to view some of the artifacts from the bridge that are not on show to
the public. And I absolutely loved it. I do not, however, love the entrance to
the station through a typical early 80s block. In fact, if you love early 80s
architecture, then the Barbican is the place for you. But not for me, and I’m
back onto the train as soon as propriety – and the timetable – allow.
I visited
Moorgate on the Northern Line, so I stay on the train, which I also do through
Liverpool Street. Although I can’t help noting that one fact I failed to report
when I stopped at Liverpool Street with the Central line is that the main line
station is twinned with Amsterdam Central Station, which is a gorgeous building
that I painted in October 2018. (Two coats of whitewash, and one topcoat, Aye
thenk yow.) The next stop is our last
unbagged Metropolitan Line station, Aldgate.
In case you’re wondering, the ‘gate’ in the name refers to one of the
ancient gates in the medieval city of London, these being Aldgate (Old Gate),
Newgate, Ludgate, Bishopsgate and Cripplegate, which had their origins in the
gates to the roman settlement of Londinium. Aldergate was a late roman
addition, and Moorgate in the 15th century. As for the station, this
is a nice slice of Central London Charles Clarkery, although I don’t believe
that this one is listed. I’m intrigued when Wikipedia informs me that
construction of the original Aldgate Station was made more complicated since
the site chosen was on top of a plague pit containing a good 1000 bodies. This
station apparently was mentioned in “The Bruce Partington Plans”, one of
Conan-Doyles last Sherlock Holmes stories.
All of which
neatly wraps up the Metropolitan Line, the last line which will require more
than a single trip. Somehow there’s not quite the sense of achievement that I
felt on completing the Northern line, rather just a sense of fatigue. The
challenge has gained what I think of as terminal velocity now, though. Having
come so far, and being comfortably over ¾ of the way complete I don’t see any
way in which I won’t find the necessary oomph to finish. The idea of completing
the Bakerloo line in a single day, which is next, is certainly appealing.
No comments:
Post a Comment