Happy Birthday to the Tube

Happy Birthday to the London Tube!  150 Years Old!

If I was heading for a dessert island and I couldn’t take a book or an OS map or the Geographer’s Map of London, then the Map of the London Underground would do just fine. (I know it’s desert.,,,it was but a jocular trifle.)

I love that map and the Underground. Although I’m a mature adult, it has always held a kind of wonder, a mystery and an underlying fear.

Maybe it stems from my childhood when I was a little Welsh girl from the valleys taken to London with my parents for a treat, wearing our best clothes, feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square and admiring the wonderful lions (still a favourite sight…some thing never change) and then going down into the noisy, confined, peculiar bowels of the earth where a rush of warm peculiarly smelly wind preceded the sudden arrival of a rattling, creaking, noisy lit-up sausage of a vehicle which people would surge forward without queuing to get into. The “mind the doors” announcements were particularly unsettling. What were the doors going to do? Take your arm off, actually. The notion of losing a foot or a whole set of fingers because they were bloodily and excruciatingly trapped in the doors was a terror for a long time. Why else would they tell you to mind them?

Unsettling verging on terrifying was the fact that the line was electric – and if you fell off the edge of that platform on to the tracks you would be fried alive before you could so much as scream. Not only did I not want to near the edge of the platform, I didn’t even want to look in case some other hapless traveller stumbled and fell to their certain death.

I didn’t like the steep wooden rattly escalators, I didn’t like the way it got hotter as you went deeper and down. I wondered about how you escape if the power goes off and the trains don’t work and hundreds and hundreds of people couldn’t squash on to the stairs…I hoped there were a whole series of hidden walkways so you could proceed calmly into the light and fresh air, but of course there aren’t any. I still wonder about that today.

My great-aunts, both nurses in London during the Blitz, had told me how people used to sleep safe in the underground tunnels while the bombing went on overhead. To me, it seemed only marginally less scary being underground than in some shelter above ground.

The journey itself was terrifically exciting and worrying, packed into this sausage train with people closed to me than they had ever been before..coats touching.. and no-one looked at you or spoke to each other. Even my parents stayed strangely silent, my dad hanging on to a strap dangling from the roof and holding my hand tight. I thought maybe talking wasn’t allowed because it would take up too much air. People were smelly, the train rocked and creaked and squealed and bumped as though we were scraping the walls of the tunnels in some places. It was a relief when the sausage slowed and stopped but then a few people got off but a whole lot of other people got on, squashing against us even tighter so we couldn’t move at all, not saying anything, not looking at anyone in particular. That’s when I knew that English people were different. That “no talking” thing never happened anywhere I’d been in Wales.

So as far as my relationship with the London Underground was concerned, the die was cast. It’s still love/hate as far as I’m concerned.

I find it so imbued with history and romance and it’s still inherently exciting yet there is a lingering lack of understanding of how it possibly really can be safe? When there is a disaster – which are mercifully few – it does still seem like the epitome of hell on earth to me. It doesn’t stop me using the tube and I’m not generally nervous or neurotic in the least – apart from the fear of heights – but it still creates an undercurrent of anxiety. Memories of of the 7/7 2005 endure and the terrorist threat is ever-present.

In 2012 I went to Hong Kong and Tokyo and experienced the underground train systems in both of those countries. Anyone who has been to Hong Kong airport will know how smooth and quiet and clean and fast is the train journey direct to the hot-spot Central where you emerge into a metropolis of towering shiny skyscrapers. In Tokyo, the tube map is much more extensive and fascinating and complex than our own Underground map. They have it organised the transport system to perfection with fast, clean, timely, quiet, spacious trains that feel like they are running on air, two inches above the tracks. They have women-only carriages at certain times of day, they have whizzy,constantly changing information displays in the train carriages. The commuters wear face masks if they are slightly under the weather, so as not to spread their germs to other people at close quarters.

Not long after returning from the travelling, I was back in GB and went up to London with a friend. We caught the Picadilly line from Hammersmith into the centre. This was, you’ll appreciate, after recent experience of near-silent, gliding trains with passengers who were uniformly well-behaved and courteous.

First, I couldn’t believe how small it was – how low the ceiling of the train and how narrow. The window were smeary, the seat upholstery was dingy and unimpressive. All the seats were taken so we stood, strap-hanging and the train took off with a lurch and a groan. It rumbled, squealed ear-piercingly, scraped, rattled and rocked through the darkness as it picked up speed. It was so, SO noisy. Several passengers were listening to music players with earphones but they must have had to turn the volume up to ear-bleeding level to blot out the noise of the train.

I couldn’t believe how antiquated and noisy it felt in comparison to the super-smooth ride of the trains in HK and Tokyo but hell, it had an unmistakeably British charm and suddenly it felt so very good to be back in London.




About janh1

Part-time hedonist.
This entry was posted in Art, Current Affairs, Science. Bookmark the permalink.

20 Responses to Happy Birthday to the Tube

  1. IsobelandCat says:

    I live in London as you know, but I seldom use the tube. I prefer the buses and overground trains. Often they are as quick, well, I live near the centre, it would be different if I were further out. Did you know the first line was the Metropolitan, and Lindon had the first underground railway in the world? That is why the Paris version is called the Métro.

    • janh1 says:

      Hi Isobel. Thanks for the info. I don’t know much about the Tube at all so it was interesting to read the info in the Guardian articles too. I never trust myself on London buses… complicated. At least with the Tube you’ve got a good map… 😀

  2. Ant says:

    That photograph, Jan, is stunning. Just stunning.
    And I always used to ask, `what did people do before there were escalators, Dad?’ and I always wanted a peach from the stall at S. Ken and once I lost my Clark’s sandal down the gap between the carriage and the platform at Mornington Crescent, oops, we’re there.
    It’s `Mind the Gap’ that I used to chant.

    • janh1 says:

      Hey Ant!!! Good of you to pop by 😀 Thanks. It’s starting to pay off, dad being very particular about taking photographs and putting them in albums. He wasn’t to know that years later I’d be able to take digital photo with my phone and publish it across the known world (a rather grand description of a humble blog, admittedly 🙂 )

      S Ken is where you get off for the Museums…and you walk along the tunnel… Very exciting indeed 🙂 I wore Clark’s too. Wasn’t it the law back then?

      • Pseu says:

        or Startrites! (I had awkward feet!)

      • janh1 says:

        Mine were fine then, awkward now 🙂

      • Pseu says:

        while mine have remained awkward all my life! Ha

      • Ant says:

        I have been thinking about memory and how it is free from passing time. Your writing took me to that wonderland when every tube journey ended by emerging in an exciting destination. Uncle Alfred at Goodge Street and lunch at Bertorelli’s, Charlotte Street, with a strict waitress in white linen tucking me in. And, yes, the tunnel at S. Ken, but I preferred to pop up in the middle of the road and linger at the model aeroplane shop in Exhibition Road.
        Then your photograph shows a moment for your three people set amongst the equestrian statue and the lions, remembered by you
        Sandals by decree, and a vest until April.

      • janh1 says:

        I was never allowed to cast my clout, Ant ;-(

        Yes memories are fixed, forever if you’re lucky. Visited my lovely, aged uncle on Saturday whose short-term and recent memory is near non-existent but loves to talk about his boyhood in Wales and his parents as clearly as if it was last week. 😉

      • Ant says:

        Startrites? Is that a creative writing group, Pseu?

      • janh1 says:

        It definitely should be… 😉

  3. clivechip says:

    Lovely stories and memories, Jan. As one who uses the tube every day to get to work I tend not to think of the way it can mean different things to other people. This brought that alive for me.

    • janh1 says:

      Hi Clive, glad you enjoyed a rather juvenile view of it. Memories of those precious first experiences tend to weld themselves into one’s brain! 🙂

  4. Pseu says:

    Cyclo had a large book about the Underground this Christmas and was watching documentary about the whole thing a few days ago!

    Have you been to The London Transport Museum? So very interesting – especially seeing the ‘real map of the underground’ compared with the stylised one we are all used to 🙂

  5. A lovely nostalgic piece, Jan: I can remember so many of the same things. And you threw in some nifty dessert jokes to boot 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s