Archive

Numbers 101-125

Cathedral of modernityHaving already swooned over the statues on the outside of London Underground’s HQ, I feel any further words of my own can’t possibly do justice to the wonder that is the whole of the building.

So I’ll let other people’s words do that for me.

Foundation“When I realised the full possibilities of this [building’s] cross-shaped plan – good light, short corridors, and a compact centre containing all services, complete with lifts and staircase communicating directly with all four wings… I do not think I was ever more excited.”
– Charles Holden, 1944

Flying the flag“Charles Holden built embassies of modernism. If you wanted symbolism of a newer world, he was making those shapes against the sky.”
– Peter York, 2013

Broadway melody '55“The building, begun in 1928, was constructed by The Foundation Company and completed in 1930. When finished it had a floor area of 31,000 sq ft. Above the second floor the building had a central tower and four wings, each 48ft wide. The wings necessarily varied in length, the east wing was 100ft, the west was 76ft and the other two were just 60ft. The top of the tower was 176ft above road level, and was surmounted by a 60ft flagstaff.”
Mike Horne

A central Park“Frank Pick [who commissioned the building] was the greatest patron of the arts whom this century has so far produced in England, and indeed the ideal patron of our age.”
– Nikolaus Pevsner, 1968

Jesus H. Cruciform

“The historic home of London Underground is to be converted into expensive flats as part of a drive by transport chiefs to raise more than £1 billion. The Grade I-listed building at 55 Broadway… is unsuitable for a modern office, say bosses. Lower floors will be converted into one-bedroom apartments and the rest will be penthouses. LU boss Mike Brown said: ‘Any development must respect the building’s heritage. We will proceed sensitively.'”
– London Evening Standard, 15 May 2013

Much Hainault about nothingOnly three trains an hour run north from this station. It’s just as well the platforms are so gorgeous. Chances are you’re going to do a lot of standing around on them.

Passengers wanting to travel south have it much better. They get to pick from around nine trains an hour. No loitering among the beautiful canopies or mooching under the picturesque awnings for them. But then if you’re heading south from Hainault you’re going towards central London, and I imagine you haven’t the time for design fripperies, no matter how elegant.

If you’re travelling north from here, however, I’d guess you’re more than likely returning from something: work, maybe an excursion, perhaps an appointment or a tryst. You’re already resigned to your journey lasting as long as it takes, so hey: another quarter-of-an-hour just means more chance to make Hainault while the sun shines.

Naults and crosses The platforms’ shapely concrete posts and ritzy curves give the discerning (and even the idle) public architecture devotee many reasons to be cheerful.

Less pre-disposed towards Hainault is the “Tube challenger“, for whom the place is often the fly in their diagrammatic soup. Mastering the so-called Fairlop Loop on the Central line necessitates picking a train that avoids having to change here, and possibly endure a wait of up to 20 minutes, which certainly won’t help you set a new world record.

Hence while there is plenty of scope for a bit of infrastructure ogling, these platforms are also the crucible of a fair few thwarted dreams.

Definitely a case of ‘Naults and crosses.

Here's looking at you

Face of surpriseIf I’d only waited a few more minutes. For then I could have trotted out the old “stands the clock at ten to three?” doggerel, and I’d have had a not-at-all-hoary-and-cliched opening remark all ready made.

But no. I’d already loitered a little too long for comfort in the ticket hall of a station a little too empty of people to not draw too much attention to my endeavours. I had to grab what time I could – which, in this instance, was 2.40.

This way to LondonThe simplicity and the economy of the clock’s design is entrancing. There’s no room for superfluities like letters or – heaven forbid – numbers, because there’s no point.

As I’ve said before, a glance at a clock face is all most of us ever need (or have time for, ahem.) It follows that the essentials of a clock can, if done sensitively, become components of a broader statement, not merely of information but of style.

Those small circular daubs of colour: look at them, as John Betjeman would say. Do you see how they subtly echo the Underground roundel, in particular the ones positioned at each quarter-hour?

And that stencilled instruction “To London”: surely a reminder of how remote and isolated Ruislip still was when the station was rebuilt in the late 1930s?

Perhaps most striking of all is the colour. You don’t get this much cream in one dose in many Underground stations. There’s enough to rival the total tonnage of afternoon teas in Grantchester.

Which reminds me…