There’s no burned oak at Burnt Oak. There’s not much to the station either, which is a squat pavilion a bit like Brent Cross and Hendon Central, only not as noble or elegant. What there is, however, is a roundel on a pole.
That might not sound much, but believe me, when you’re standing outside Burnt Oak station with 95% of your vision choked up with tat, grot and litter, it’s a revelation.
Even the design of the pole is appealing. It’s vaguely Eiffel-esque, with the struts climbing upwards in a pleasingly ordered fashion, tapering inwards towards the centre of a satisfyingly chunky roundel. The very top looks a bit like a flagpole, but how you’d raise anything up it is a mystery. Although given the whole structure already raises the spirits, I’d argue no further kinds of elevation are necessary.
There’s an added treat when you’re down on the platforms. A gap in the bridges overhead reveals a glimpse of the pole, which from this angle looks even more commanding.
It almost makes up for the station’s gratingly archaic name. There’s really no call for words ending “rnt” nowadays.