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March 2nd, 2007
The platform opposite left luggage advertises itself as going to Heathrow - now that would really speed things up - train out and then tube back! Briliant plan. I ask a pair of bored guards leaning against the carriage wall and picking their nails if our travelcards are valid on the train. Apparently they are. The train PA system welcomes us aboard. I'm still not convinced of our ticket validity so check the scrolling passenger display...all seems well, except for the noisy chav scum behind us. Our journey begins.
( fare dodging )
On the platform, we take pics of me scowling as the Whole Ticket Issue has put me in a bad mood. The light level is dreadful - all sickly yellow - so as there are no trains in the station B tries a flash. Within seconds the tannoy annouces 'customers are reminded that flash photography is not allowed at this station'. Yet further reminder that we are constantly being monitored. Quite frankly we're in a 'fuck you' mood, but being good citizens we don't flash further.
We set off to find the Underground Terminus through endless low, wide corridors that smell of air-conditioning units and floor cleaner; that particular 'airport smell' the same the world over of over-tired mass humanity, plastic seating, plastic food, nylon carpets and filtered air. The lighting is unflattering neon, over-bright and vaguing intimidating. It has that odd quality of making the world seem more sharp edged and brittle, and yet more full of shadows and unreal. The people around us seem artificial. Automata in a simulated world lit by advert hoardings and signage scrambling across the retina competing for attention. But I guess that most of the people that pass through here are so zoned out in a little world of jet lag and culture shock that for message to get through it has to be a subtle as a punch in the face.
There are no ticket barriers so we sail on pass the uniform zombies, thus avoiding any Unpleasant Conversations. I refuse to see this as fare dodging. We navigate the sprawl of concrete passages to the nexus of brillant white light that is the London Underground Transport Information Centre for Heathrow. Just being in the airport is making me feel disjointed and transient and the information centre seems a haven of order in the wash and flow of other travellers. Everything will be made well here, you can get all the help you need. We take photos. It only strikes me now that the signage is in navy blue and white, not the usual red livery...
Downstairs is more colourful, with vintage 70's tiled arches, and a little aeroplane on the station name. I don't know of any other station signs with non-arabic symbols. If anyone knows of others, please do let me know.
B thinks this is a hang-over from the days when it was Heathrow Central, before the loop to Terminal 4 was built.
Next place we do disembark is the first of the three Hounslow stations: Hounslow West. More vintage seventies tiling...
We don't linger. Onto the middle child, Hounslow Central. The track is above ground again on this stretch of the Piccadilly and will be for as far as we're travelling today. This means arriving in a downpour that has us scurrying for the exit. What light there is is bounced around the gleaming white and blue tiled walls. Like heading into a medical establishment...
Sunshine tries to break through the clouds. Station looks like a suburban gingerbread house, even down to the attic room...If Terry & June built train stations, this is what they would look like
In contrast to the suburban brick cottage, complete with terracotta roof tiles, of Hounslow Central, the final Hounslow, Hounslow East is a paean to post-modernism; curved glass walls, copper coloured sloped roof (oooOOo, all very Norman Foster), exposed wooden roofs. The sense of vaulting space is wonderful. Neither of us sure about the roof though - look a little like it hasn't been finished properly.
We don't linger. Onto the middle child, Hounslow Central. The track is above ground again on this stretch of the Piccadilly and will be for as far as we're travelling today. This means arriving in a downpour that has us scurrying for the exit. What light there is is bounced around the gleaming white and blue tiled walls. Like heading into a medical establishment...
Sunshine tries to break through the clouds. Station looks like a suburban gingerbread house, even down to the attic room...If Terry & June built train stations, this is what they would look like
But there's sod all to see outside really, so we concentrate our attention on another of the wooden ticket offices that have survived the years rather than stand around in the drizzle. I itch to draw another of the ticket-wickets. Bloody hell, does it need three cameras!
In contrast to the suburban brick cottage, complete with terracotta roof tiles, of Hounslow Central, the final Hounslow, Hounslow East is a paean to post-modernism; curved glass walls, copper coloured sloped roof (oooOOo, all very Norman Foster), exposed wooden roofs. The sense of vaulting space is wonderful. Neither of us sure about the roof though - look a little like it hasn't been finished properly.
All three of the stations for this post: Osterly, Boston Manor and Northfields are from the same European style from the 30s, with the same use of strong contrasting horizontal and vertical planes, brick and glass spires and turrets. I can't see that these rooftop details serve any purpose other than to give a dramatic skyline. Maybe it's because they are from the Golden Age of the Cinema, but I love the sweep of them: uncluttered, unfussy; a forward-motion thrust towards a glamorous future of fast cars and sky captains, cocktail parties and oceanliners, chrome plate and plate glass; a streamlined, clean-edged, stark modern world, free from class and gender division, jazz bright and exciting.
Annoyingly I've just discovered that there's an abandoned station about 300m to the East, but we were more concerned with getting a bit further along the line to Boston Manor to see the back of the Northfield Depot where all the Piccadilly trains go to sleep at night. We spot a platform roundel visible through a first storey window on our way back in, but once I get to the platform I realise it's the other side of the 'do not cross on danger of death' barrier, and another train is coming, so we totally fail to get platform shots at Osterley. Well, gives me an excuse to go back and look for the building for Osterly and Spring Grove.
So, one stop up to Boston Manor, which favours the white picket fence approach to platform design. The sun suddenly blazes forth again:
Goth Shun Sun!!!! Run! Run from the burny thing in the sky...
Goth Shun Sun!!!! Run! Run from the burny thing in the sky...
Over the road, the more Classical potbellied balustrades on the road bridge have been filled in to prevent people throwing things on the tracks below which lead to Northfields Depot. You can see Northfields from South Ealing station, and many's the time I've stared down the platform willing a train to come, watching them just sitting there, hibernating. Have been curious for a long time to see the other side of the Depot. Oh, what a spotterish confession!
Now this will be a good image to play with - all those wiggling lines...I am keen to start a drawing based on the shapes going on here. The train tracks run alongside the depot as we travel up to Northfields and more deco style station design.
