Fit for a QueensburyThis is the first item I’ve included in my quest about which I know almost nothing. I confess I’ve no idea when precisely it was built, nor who by. I haven’t a clue as to the designer. I’m not even entirely sure what to call it. A monument? A turret? A freestanding feature?

Dish of the dayIt’s not just the object itself that’s striking; it’s also where it is positioned:

Urban urbaneWhat a finely-conceived, thoughtfully-implemented bit of suburban planning.

I’m guessing the whole area was laid out around the same time as the construction of the station, which opened in December 1934.

Hopefully whoever did it received some sort of municipal honour or local corporation tie. Cleverly (but sensibly) the Underground roundel is visible from a number of approaches, including the far end of the long slice of green that stretches away from the roundabout and behind the point from which I took the above photo.

All the roads, paths, shops and houses fan out from the station – as they should. And there, right at the point where all the trajectories meet, is… is…

Lovely erection (steady now)Whatever it is, it’s a bit special.

A big hand for this entranceThere are pedants, and I’m usually one of them, who would disqualify this splendid building on account of it also being an entrance to a mainline railway station. But there are also pragmatists, and I’d like to think of myself as one, who would counter that this is very much part of the Underground.

It is the main point of access to the District and Circle lines north of the Thames at Blackfriars; indeed it is the only point of access to the Underground in the Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill area. And while it does double as an entrance to platforms for the Thameslink line, it fastens its colours truly to the mast with a distinctive, if flawed, bit of signage:

Oh dearScott has moaned about this misguided lozenge, and he’s right to. Why? Why decorate a hugely-convincing, impressively-realised, sparkling new station front with something so out-of-place and out-of-keeping with London Underground house style? Either do it properly or don’t bother.

Lozenge aside, the north entrance to Blackfriars commands the sort of shiny respect and bristling fascination that all the stations on the Jubilee line extension must have enjoyed on their opening in 1999. The whole complex is part of the vast Thameslink upgrade programme, which has also resulted in Blackfriars gaining a sister entrance on the south side of the river – something long overdue, but more of which another time.

It’s the north entrance I’m celebrating here, and not just its exterior. Because what in heaven’s name is this?

Kind of blueSomething really rather wonderful, that’s what.

You - tube?Disregarding the fact it doesn’t seem to have picked up my reflection, thereby making my self-esteem even more transparent than usual, what you have here is an enormous ventilation duct masquerading as a minor tourist attraction. Or vice versa.

While I was there I saw a number of people pausing to admire this shimmering blue turret, one or two of them even touching it to as if they couldn’t believe it was real.

Perhaps the way it seems so out of place makes it so appealing and therefore to be admired, applauded and, if necessary, stroked.

All of which reactions are wholly justified and fitting for a station that is by any measure a whole lot better than it once was.

Sign of old timesAnd it’s about to get even better.

A spot of dustingWaltham Forest borough council commissioned these mosaics to mark the centenary of Alfred Hitchcock’s birth. The director was born in Leytonstone in 1899; each design commemorates a memorable moment from his cinematic career.

Bad hair dayThey were created by the Greenwich Mural Workshop and unveiled in 2001.

Leytonstone station is reached from either the western or eastern end of a long subway, along which are positioned the mosaics. It means you only get to see half the designs on your way to or from the platforms – that’s if you’re bothering to look at all:

Eastern entranceNobody was paying them any notice while I was there. In fact, me taking photographs of the mosaics was attracting more attention than the mosaics themselves. It’s a shame when something so intriguing becomes so familiar as to be almost invisible.

Captions provide information on which film is represented by which design, which is useful for those less familiar depictions:

SaboteurThere are 17 in total, 14 showing scenes from films, three symbolising moments in Hitchcock’s career. If you’re not rushing to or from a train at Leytonstone, all of the designs are worth close inspection. Or for that matter, any sort of inspection at all.

Number 17