'Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head'

Day 39

 

Grange Hill - Great Portland Street - Greenford

 

Well now, guess what - today is the 1st anniversary of starting this blog! Exactly one year ago I had the bright idea of starting this mad venture - and here I am nearing the end of the letter 'G' and just over a third of the way through. Not a bad achievement, I reckon...

But no time to celebrate - on with the journey...

***

As well as getting a soaking from the non-stop rain, I have a bit of a palaver getting started this morning, as for some reason there don't seem to be any trains from Ealing Broadway to Grange Hill - my first stop.

 

It's another of those distant stations on the Hainault Loop, and the normal route for me would be a direct train to Woodford, via Hainault - stopping at Grange Hill along the way.

 

This morning however, thanks to an apparent lack of any such trains, I have to get a train going all the way to Epping, get off at Woodford, and then catch a train heading back into town (via Hainault) from there, so I can get off at Grange Hill in the opposite direction. Tsk!

 

***

The Grange Hill I'm visiting today has, sadly, nothing whatsoever to do with the school of the same name in the kids' TV programme familiar to those of us who grew up in the 70s and 80s. The school where Tucker, Zammo and the rest got up to their merry japes was actually in the fictional London Borough of 'Northam'.

 

Which is a shame because when I get to the real Grange Hill, I realise it's just another Essex-borders ghost town, and there's bugger all here.

 

Grange Hill

 

You know I sometimes worry that my readers don't believe me when I say of such places "There's nothing there!" - surely, you opine, there must be something otherwise there'd be no point having a station there at all... And yes, of course there is something - a road, a few houses, a few shops, maybe even a small park - but something interesting? No. Not really.

 

So here, for the doubters, is the view from outside the station:

 

It's all go around here...

You see? Just a long old stretch of road with not very much going on.

 

It's not helped by the rain of course - it's a real downpour now, and the only upside is that, since there's nothing to photograph, there's no risk of my camera getting wet.

 

I head to a small parade of shops which includes a café, and stop in for a coffee in the hope that the rain will ease off a little in a short while (it doesn't). The two middle aged Jewish women who run the place seem determined to force feed me a toasted bagel (or 'bye-gull' as they, and the customer who comes in after me, for some reason pronounce it) with my coffee - but I resist and stick to just a latté - to their great disappointment. Perhaps the thought of selling baked goods is as exciting as it gets in these parts.

 

Back at the station, barely ten minutes later, I find from the platform displays that the next train back into central London (via Hainault) is a sixteen minute wait, while there's no train at all indicated in the opposite direction (via Woodford). The chap at the information window tells me that the Woodford train broke down so they're waiting for a replacement, which - when it comes - will be the first train to depart. Great.

 

But it won't actually go into central London, as it's going to terminate at Woodford, so I'll have to change there.

 

Not so great.

 

This part of town is really not endearing itself to me. I imagine I'm in one of those ramshackle old American wild west train stations, where the track stretches for mile upon unbroken mile in either direction - nothing but tumbleweed interrupting the view. A lone station-master, with a moustache Mark Twain would have been proud of, checks his pocket watch - though why he does so is anybody's guess, as he knows there's only one train a day and it won't be along for another five hours or so - and shuffles back into his tiny cubby-hole. All you can do is sit on your battered old suitcase and play the harmonica or whittle a piece of wood while you wait...

 

***

Having, finally, got a train into the centre of town, and changed yet again at Liverpool Street onto the Circle Line, I emerge once more into the pouring rain at Great Portland Street station. It's some three hours after I set off this morning and so far I've visited only one station - and that for only ten minutes.

 

Great Portland Street

Great Portland Street station sits at the northern end of the street of the same name, which runs due south from here all the way to Oxford Street. To the north is Regent's Park - but since that has its own dedicated station, I'll leave exploring it for another day. Instead I take a brief respite from the pouring rain in a church doorway, from where I take my photo of the station entrance.

 

The building is Grade II listed - which sounds impressive until you realise that quite a few of the stations on the London Underground system are listed - I've visited 33 of them already. In fact of the 368 stations on the map, 76 of them - or just over a fifth - are listed buildings.

 

On the other hand, it's an attractive enough building - with its cream terracotta exterior instead of the more usual red brick or ox-blood tiles.

 

I walk hurriedly down Great Portland Street itself, glancing upwards occasionally to take in the rather grand Edwardian architecture either side of me, and the blue plaques which tell me who once lived here (James Boswell, Felix Mendelssohn, Carl Maria Von Weber, to name a few). However, since every time I do so I get a face-full of good old British rain, I mainly keep my eyes at ground level, where the facades are more prosaically 21st Century - Starbucks, Prêt à Manger, Costa... A far cry from the 30-odd car dealerships that used to dominate this street. 'Motor row' as it was nicknamed, used to be to the motor trade what Hatton Garden is to the diamond business - Benz, Jaguar, Austin, Vauxhall - all had showrooms here.

 

The street also forms the border between Fitzrovia (where I found myself last week) to the east, and Marylebone to the west.

 

Marylebone (the area bordered by Marylebone Road to the north, Edgware Road to the west and Oxford Street to the south - as well as Great Portland Street) gets its name from an old church called 'St Mary at the Bourne' ('bourne' being a small stream - referring to the Tyburn stream which ran from South Hampstead to the Thames.)

 

As well as the well-known streets that form its borders, the area also includes one or two other familiar names, such as Regent's Street, famous for its shops, and Harley Street, the home of expensive private medical practitioners since the middle of the 19th Century.

 

One among the many doctors who have lived and worked here over the years is Lionel Logue, the Australian speech therapist who was the subject of the film 'The King's Speech' - but my favourite has to be the improbably named Sir Grantly Dick-Read, who - appropriately enough perhaps - was an obstetrician.

 

***

So on to my final stop of the day - Greenford.

 

Greenford

The station is unique in that the escalators here take passengers up to the platforms, rather than down as they do elsewhere. Obviously, therefore, the platforms sit above street level, which isn't all that unusual, but the other stations which share this feature tend to have either lifts or stairs, or both.

 

The station is located some distance from the main shopping area known as Greenford Broadway, which lies a kilometre or so to the south. The two are separated by the A40 - or Western Avenue as it is called at this point - and this area to the north of the motorway is much more industrial than residential.

 

Hovis used to have a factory here, and there are still one or two food distribution and manufacturing operations along Oldfield Road.

 

I'm not, I confess, particularly excited by the prospect of wandering up and down outside factories - nor is the Grand Union Canal, which meanders through Greenford on its way from London to Birmingham, especially picturesque anywhere along this stretch.

 

Grand Union Canal

I take a brief stroll along the towpath, but after only a few minutes decide to turn back and catch a bus to the centre of Greenford.

 

Some years ago I lived in a flat above a shop on Greenford Broadway, so I know the area reasonably well. It hasn't changed very much - some of the businesses have different names, and sell different products, but in general it's typical of many suburban shopping streets. A mixture of take-aways, newsagents, mini-supermarkets and - these days - mobile phone unlocking stalls.

 

In other words - nothing very exciting (see? it's not just the east of London that's a bit dull!)

 

So, another day is over, and another three stations are crossed off the list. I hope next time - when I expect to complete the G-section - will prove a less water-logged, and slightly more inspiring and stimulating excursion...