Metropolitan Section 2

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 death 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 15^th 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.