Zone 5

Welcome to the end of the line.

I hope I’m not alone in finding this and other London Underground terminuses (or termini, to be classically correct) hugely beguiling. They have an atmosphere you do not find anywhere else on the network. It’s one of precarious, precious stillness. Nothing and no-one can rush in a place like this. Life feels half-suspended, having drifted in from somewhere, but not entirely sure when it will drift on somewhere else. Trains creep in, loiter, and creep out. Time does the same.

These feelings are amplified and embellished when you’re in a terminus like the one at Cockfosters.

Another Charles Holden masterpiece (yes, him again) dating from 1933, the building seems almost to shiver with languid splendour. Those great grey arches yawn invitingly; the soft lights wink and glow with dapper charm; and all around you the space, the generous, stylish space, circulates with airy, effortless ease.

All the signature Holden motifs are present and correct: reinforced concrete and glass well to the fore, as much natural light as possible, an emphasis on simple elegance rather than fussy ornamentation, and sleek, smooth lines that curve, criss-cross and sidle in every direction.

But there are surprises as well, like this grill, which reminds me of one of Ken Adam’s stark and memorable set designs from Dr No:

Or this modest attempt at a flower bed:

Necessity means you have to linger in Cockfosters; the station’s glorious interior makes it expedient to do so as well. It is one of the finest places to begin or end a journey to or from anywhere in London.

31. The platforms at Rayners Lane

1 July 2012

Metropolitan line, Numbers 26-50, Piccadilly line, Sensations, Zone 5

2 Comments

I’ve talked before of how some Underground stations, like all of us from time to time, feel better in the dark.

There are also parts of the network that are most flattered by light, specifically the arc of the sun. Obviously these stations are above ground, but they’re not always obviously candidates for celebration.

For much of the time, the most that can be said to commend the platforms at Rayners Lane are the flower beds:

But when the sun starts to set, there’s a clear sky, and you’re facing westbound, something rather beautiful happens.

The platforms are ideally aligned for what astronomers would call an “event”, though in this instance, it’s the juxtaposition of light and metal rather than any celestial bodies. An occasional passing human body won’t diminish the effect, mind:

Other stations undoubtedly play host to similar solar-kissed moments. But Rayners Lane is the most extreme, and the most magical, I’ve so far experienced.