District Line Section Three: Bow Road to Upminster

I felt very pleased with myself, having done slightly more than two thirds of the District Line in just two trips, and was quite looking forward to riding a stretch of line that I’d never ridden on before. I parked fairly close to Boston Manor station, then changed at Hammersmith, which is my usual way of catching the District eastwards. 

Bow Road station opened in 1902, and I fancy that the station is the original 1902 building. It’s been grade II listed since the early 70s, apparently, and that seems very erly compared to most listed stations which were listed since the start of the 80s. I find it interesting that this station would be listed, since although it’s of a perfectly pleasing appearance, it’s not the sort of station which makes you step back and admire it, in the way that, say, Baron’s Court does. As a piece of tube trivia, the station is just before a tunnel which trains from Upminster enter. The gradient down into the tunnel is supposed to be the steepest anywhere on the network, although certainly coming eastwards from Mile End I can’t say that I noticed anything out of the ordinary. My ears did pop, but then they always do that when I’m on a Piccadilly Line train coming out of the tunnel between Earl’s Court and Baron’s Court.

Bromley by Bow has a small but not totally insignificant part in my family history. My Mum’s maiden name was Joyce, and it was her great grandfather, George Joyce, who first moved to London. George was an interesting character, just going by what 19^th century census returns told me. In 1851 he was a young boy, living with his parents in the Berkshire village of Chilton Foliat where his father John was the village blacksmith. I don’t know how or where George received his education, but by 1871 he was a clerk living in Reading. By 1871 he was the headmaster of the village school in Fernhurst Sussex. 30 years later he was a shipping clerk, and living in Bromley by Bow, before making his final move to Ealing, where the family stayed for a couple of generations, and where I actually grew up. As for the station, well, even though the original District Railway station was opened in 1902 while he was there, I somehow doubt that George would ever have seen the one that’s there now. It looks like a typically blocky 60s/70s half hearted effort, about which the less said is probably better.

It was only really for a couple of years that West Ham station was actually the closest station to West Ham Football Club, for the Boleyn Ground is actually closer to Upton Park station, and their present stadium, the former Olympic stadium, is much closer to Stratford. Again it’s a station whose modern ticket hall entrance, dating back to about 1999, doesn’t do a great deal for me, but at least is nowhere near as depressing as those from 30 years earlier. But, I don’t know, I just can’t get excited about station entrances which look like shopping malls

This is not an accusation you could make about Plaistow station. This is a big, impressive hunk of Edwardian architecture. I was surprised by the height of it – so far the older District Line stations have consisted of just the one fairly level floor at street level. Plaistow is far more imposing than the usual, and the ornamental brick arches and lines, and the cornices, prevent impressive from becoming oppressive. I also like the ornamental flower beds outside. I don’t really know what I was expecting on this eastward stretch of the line, but I suppose I was expecting a urn of stations like Bow Road, or maybe 1970s replacements. 

It was all change again for the station at Upton Park. Although not that very much, since it was constructed at the same time as Plaistow had been. This is a different slice of Edwardiana, though. It’s shorter yet longer, with its roofline boasting a pleasingly symmetrical set of gables. In a way these remind me of parts of the Hanwell and West Ealing sections of the Uxbridge Road in Ealing while I was growing up. So I’m told the station name has, at times, been used to indicate someone who is not quite the full shilling, as my Nan used to say – Upton Park, as in two stops short of Barking (mad). I was very tempted at this point to stop for a small celebration since this was actually the 100^th station I’ve visited since I’ve started the challenge. I’d already sketched more than a third of all the current stations on the London Underground, and I hadn’t even realised it.  

Mind you, I mentally pulled myself up as I realised that this still left me 170 stations to go. This soon became 169 though. Station 101, East Ham was surely built and designed at the same time and by the same architect as station 100, Upton Park, since, to my admittedly untrained eye, it appeared extremely similar. Not that I was complaining. This combination of red brick and yellow London bricks is something I find extremely familiar from my childhood, and it speaks to me of my primary school in Hanwell in particular. I haven’t mentioned this earlier, but since Aldgate East we’ve been sharing with the Hammersmith and City Line. That’s a grand total of 11 stations, which is 11 fewer stations we have to do when we come to that line, which can’t be bad.  

The end of the line for the Hammersmith and City is the next station I visited on this District Line trip, Barking. Barking looks important, as befits a station which is the end of one Underground Line, and an interchange with both the London Overground and national rail. Important, yes, but not exactly attractive, with its uptilted apron overhanging the entrance, dating back to the early 1960s. The famous Nicholas Pevsner rather liked it and called it one of the very best of modern stations. I’m not entirely sure that, from this distance, almost 60 years later, I totally agree with him. It’s certainly not ugly, but calling it one of the best stations from the 50s and 60s isn’t necessarily that much of a compliment considering the poor nature of the competition. 

It’s the District Line and nothing but the District Line from here until we reach the end of the line at Upminster. The next station, Upney, was a little bit of a disappointment. At first glance as I left the building I wondered if it was another lacklustre 50s/60s creation. A few more minutes looking convinced me that this actually was more likely to date back to the 30s, the roofline above the station sign being a bit of a clincher, along with the dark brown brickwork. Subsequent research showed that I was right about that. It’s not ugly, but when you compare it with the stations Holden and contemporaries were designing for the Piccadilly line at about the same time, it seems to be a very lacklustre effort.  

I wasn’t able to discover for certain who was the architect of Upney, but bearing in mind the similarity of the next station, Becontree, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was designed by the same architect, William Henry Hamlyn, who was also the chief architect for the London, Midland and Scottish Railway. Despite their similarity, I rather liked Becontree a little more than Upney. Maybe this was just because the sun had come out briefly as I emerged from the station, and maybe it was because I stopped for a mini pork pie, which usually guarantees an improvement in my mood. 9 stations done, and only 6 more to go, I was quite a happy bunny.

 Dagenham Heathway was built at the same time as the previous two stations, it was a bit different, and if anything this little station is, I’m afraid, rather more nondescript. This might well be because when it originally opened it was on the LMS – London, Midland and Scottish Railway, which was one of the big four railways from the late 20s until nationalisation of the railways in the late 40s. Research says that the station buildings were renovated during the noughties, but it’s difficult to imagine that much of this can have involved the exterior, since it’s so bland and featureless. It’s a classic example of a whythe’ell station, as in whythe’ell is ‘e taking a photo of that station. I haven’t actually heard anyone saying this, but I’ve had a few looks which were just as eloquent as the actual words. As a rule, nobody looks askance at anyone brandishing a camera at anything in Central London, but when you get to the outlying areas, unless the station is an obviously striking building it’s not uncommon for you to get funny looks. I mean, why one Earth would anyone ever want to photograph a station like Ickenham, for example, a prime example of a whythe’ell if ever I saw one.
Although

I have to admit that when I was coming towards the end of the Piccadilly Line, when I got within half a dozen stations of Cockfosters I was beginning to feel a bit of tube fatigue, that is, a nagging desire to rush through to the end of the line and just get it over with. In retrospect, it was only for the last 4 Piccadilly sections, after I’d finished walking between Turnpike Lane and Bounds Green. Well, tube fatigue really started to strike as we approached Dagenham East. This was maybe a little unfair to the station itself, considering that it’s pretty similar to Upney and Becontree. But that just exacerbated the feeling, I suppose. Familiarity breeds contempt, and déjà vu was setting in quite badly, with the thought that there were still 4 stations to go, and for all I knew they might be just more of the same. There was plenty of daylight time left, so the only thing that could possibly stop me from finishing the District Line on this trip was a case of the soddits.

Thankfully, Elm Park was just different enough to keep me interested. In some ways the station reminded me a little bit of Boston Manor, which is one of my sentimental favourites, only without that station’s distinctive tower. The look is distinctly art deco, and the station was opened in 1935. It scores over the previous few for me because of the semi circular ends of the apron extending out from the flat roof. I think it’s this, and the later safety railings which particularly remind me of Boston Manor.

The day clouded over somewhat as I returned to the platform to take the next train to Hornchurch. This station was, I’m afraid, an almost soddit-inducing Upney identikit, although it does bost the saving grace of not having the window grilles on the left of the entrance covered up, as they are on the previous stations of this sort. Looking at these highly similar District line stations just makes my admiration for Charles Holden’s work all the greater, since although many of them have obvious similarities, they are all at least subtly different. Well, all of the ones I’ve visited so far. Atleast, by this stage there were only two stations left, and there was no way that I was going to cut this trip short now, which would only mean I’d have to trek out all this way again just for two stations.

Upminster Bridge, penultimate station on the District line, is not exactly a pretty sight. However it is, thankfully, an interesting one. Like the previous few stations, this was originally built and operated by the LMS, which may be the reason for the almost identical design of some of them. However, this is different. For one thing, it has a large structure rising up behind the entrance, in the way that many Charles Holden stations have ticket halls which rise behind the entrance. Mind you, there the similarity ends. This one is blocky, and could desperately do with some glazed screens. Still, at least it’s different from a lot of what we’ve seen on this trip and so at least has novelty value. I would imagine that maybe the station, with the façade having the station entrance balanced by the two shop buildings, this maybe looks quite appealing when the sun shines. When the clouds are threatening a soaking though, as they were when I visited, the place looks miserable, and rather unloved.

Upminster came as a complete surprise. It looks as I’d expect a late Victorian national railway station in a fairly prosperous market town would look. Yet research tells me that the entrance and ticket hall at least were another LMS building opened in 1932. Maybe this building incorporated parts of, or added to the Victorian station from 1885 – my rather sketchy research source wasn’t very specific. I could tell you that I allowed myself a certain amount of satisfaction that I’d now completed all of the stations on both Piccadilly and District Lines, the two lines with the most stations, but in all honesty I was exhausted, and didn’t even want to think about stations until I left the next train at Hammersmith on the way back.  

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A couple of days later, though, I did start to reflect on what I’d done, and what I had left to do. The District line has 60 stations, and the Piccadilly Line 53. Granted, a number of them are on both so were only sketched once, but even so I’d made significant inroads to the challenge. My plan was to work my way through the lines with the most stations first. Logically this suggested that I should tackle the Northern Line next, since it had the next highest number of stations with 50. However, the fact was that the Central line only had one fewer station with 49. With the Northern Line I knew that south of the Thames at least, we had a good run of interesting stations. With the Central line, I couldn’t be at all certain. So it might be a good thing to tackle the Central now, while I still had heart for the challenge, and while tube fatigue wasn’t setting in until I got to the end of each line. Also, the Central was one of my ‘home’ lines, with the shorter Western arm ending at Ealing Broadway. Good enough, Central Line it would be.