'Stairway To Heaven'

Day 61

 

Mill Hill East - Monument - Moorgate

 

Surprisingly, given that this is a blog about my travels around the Underground network, the theme of today's journey must undoubtedly be the word 'up'.

 

Not a word that immediately associates itself with the subterranean tunnels of the tube, I agree - but nevertheless, that's the direction I seem to be either looking or travelling today, as you'll discover.

I'm also spending the day almost exclusively on the Northern Line (with a bit of walking thrown in) as all three stations could be said to be served by this line, although - in the case of Monument - this is perhaps a tenuous claim, made by dint of being connected to Bank station rather than by being on the line itself. More of that anon.

 

***

The first of today's stations is Mill Hill East - an odd beast, lying as it does on its own isolated little branch of the Northern Line. There are no direct trains from the rest of the Line - you have to change at Finchley Central onto a forlorn looking train that basically shunts back and forth along the single track line.

Mill Hill East

Not surprising then that it lays claim to being the least used station on the Northern Line.

In fact this station was originally meant to have been just one of the stops on a much longer, double-track branch extending west to Edgware and then north to Elstree and Bushey Heath, but Green Belt legislation after the war put paid to all such plans.

Mill Hill East now has the air of the nerdy kid at school sitting alone by the soft-drinks table at the end of term disco...

It does have one claim to fame, however, and it's this which kicks of my 'upward-looking' theme for the day.

The track between Finchley Central and Mill Hill East crosses the Dollis Hill Viaduct and, at some 60 feet, it is the highest point above ground level that any of the Tube lines reach.

Dollis Brook Viaduct

The viaduct has 13 arches and each arch spans 32 feet.

Looking up.... one of the 32' wide arches

Each of the supporting legs (or 'piers' as they are known in the architectural trade) also has an arched opening built into it, the structural significance of which is, I'm afraid, lost on me.

View through the 'piers'

It does, however, make for a perspectively interesting photo...








I scramble down to the trickle of water known as Dollis Brook, after which the viaduct is named - but it really isn't up to much.

Dollis Brook

It's a tributary of the River Brent, which is itself a tributary of the Thames, and like Mill Hill East itself, you feel like it's been very much forgotten about by its elder brothers. There's an abandoned sofa and several empty beer cans lying around, so presumably it gets some visitors - but perhaps not ones I'd like to meet on a dark night...

The name Dollis Brook, by the way, has nothing to do with nearby Dollis Hill. The former is most likely a corruption of the word 'Dole' meaning 'shares of land in the common field', whereas the latter probably comes from a family name - Dalley.

In any case, I've seen all that Mill Hill East has to offer so I head back to the station with its lonely little train, and then onwards from Finchley Central. I'm heading to the heart of the City of London and to the site (give or take a couple of hundred feet) of one of its most devastating incidents.

***
Monument station, as the name suggests, is next to a monument. But not just any monument, oh no - it's next to The Monument - or, to give it its full title The Monument To The Great Fire Of London.

Monument Station

The station itself is, as I mentioned earlier, connected to nearby Bank station by subway, and unlike Mill Hill East, these form one of the top ten busiest station complexes on the network. Monument opened in 1884 (it had the original name of Eastcheap for less than a month before being renamed) and Bank (originally 'City') opened in 1900. The two were so close that in 1933 it was decided to link them together.



The Monument

The Monument stands in a little square called Monument Street and (as every schoolboy knows) is 202 feet high - the exact distance from its own location to the site of the bakery in Pudding Lane (to the east) where the fire started.

The fire raged for three days driven by strong winds, and destroyed some 70,000 houses within the walls of the City of London.

It also destroyed the original St. Paul's Cathedral - which was being renovated by a then unknown Christopher Wren. He had earlier complained that the cathedral needed completely rebuilding as it was such a hotchpotch of 'deformities' and 'inaccuracies'. He may not have been overly upset, therefore, when the wooden scaffolding he had been using in his restoration work turned out to be the conduit for the flames which destroyed the cathedral.

History of the Monument

The Monument
(Looking West)

Ironically (thanks to its thick stone walls) St. Paul's had been used as a 'safe haven' and repository of the citizens' valuables - which were of course, all lost as the fire took hold.

It was Sir Christopher Wren who was later asked to design a suitable monument to commemorate the fire and he worked with his chief assistant - Robert Hooke - to produce the plans.

While Wren usually gets all the credit, it is pretty certain that Hooke's love of science and astronomy was at the heart of the plan to use the column of the Monument as a 'zenith telescope' (one designed to point straight upwards at the stars to observe their transits). It was also Hooke who later pointed out that vibrations and movement from the wind made it unsuitable for this purpose.

The top of the Monument is in the shape of a 'gilded urn of fire' and just below this is a viewing platform, accessible via a spiral staircase within the column.

The 'gilded urn of fire'

The staircase has 311 steps - a fact which those brave enough to attempt to climb them know all too well, not least because they are rewarded for their efforts by a certificate presented to them on their descent.

It seems only fair that I have a go at the climb myself, so I join the queue of tourists in the square at the foot of the column. There's a limited number of people who can be admitted at any one time, so it's quite a wait before I'm finally let into the gloomy interior and being the ascent.



Window in the column

I start off quite energetically - even passing one or two people on my way up - until I realise that I've not even got beyond the square stone base of the Monument and have yet to reach the column itself.

From outside I had noticed small 'arrow slit' style windows in the circular walls of the column, and I've yet to reach the first of these.

Thereafter I pace myself a little better, but am still absolutely knackered by the time I reach the top, my thighs screaming at me in protest.




Looking back down the centre of the spiral staircase I give myself a pat on the back for having made it this far, and proceed outside onto the viewing platform.

The spiral staircase - all 311 steps of it.

Several early instances of people using the platform as a launching point to commit suicide prompted the authorities to enclose it in a mesh cage, so the view is somewhat hindered, and you feel like you're looking at the city through a pair of fishnet stockings.



London through fishnets

Still, the view is impressive for all that, and is well worth the climb. The need to catch one's breath aside, once you're up here you can happily spend a good half hour or more taking in the sights.



The square below is clearly the lunching spot of choice for the various City workers in the offices surrounding the Monument, but I'm also intrigued by one woman who seems to have a rooftop all to herself...

Lunch for one...

I also take the opportunity to get a closer look at the gilded urn above me.

The urn in close-up



Well done me!

After a good look around, I make my way back down the staircase and am presented with my certificate of achievement at the bottom.








The urn again

I take one last look up at the Monument from the relative comfort of ground level, and then head northwards (on foot this time) towards Bank station, and beyond to my next destination - Moorgate.









***
The way to Moorgate takes me through the heart of the City of London and its banking establishments. Though many banks have moved lock, stock and barrel into the gleaming high-rises of Canary Wharf, it doesn't take much looking around to realise that pretty much every building around Bank Station, is - well - a bank.

As well as the Bank Of England (after which the station is named) I pass a Natwest, a Bank of China, a Punjab National Bank, a Europe Arab Bank, and several investment management companies. The tourists thin out, to be gradually replaced by sharp-suited city traders (who really do all seem to wear pink shirts with braces).

I'm walking up the street called Moorgate towards the station of the same name - my final destination of the day.

Moorgate Station

The two are both named after one of the original gates of the City, which in turn got its name from Moorfields - one of the last pieces of open land in the City. It was to Moorfields that the displaced thousands from the Great Fire of London came to seek refuge and set up temporary camps.

The poet John Keats was born in the area and he himself believed his birthplace to be a pub which once stood here called the Swan and Hoop Inn. This is long gone, but its successor on the same site - The Globe - proudly claims him as their own...

Keats at the Globe

Having reached the station, I turn back the way I've come - not wishing to walk too far after that arduous climb.

As has been true for much of today, I point my camera upwards - to the decorations atop some of the banking and other establishments I pass along the way.

The top of... London Metropolitan University

They're the sort of things you might easily ignore if you didn't happen to take the time to look for them, and I'm particularly impressed with the brightly gilded one over the corner of the Bank of England.



Ariel on the roof of  The Bank Of England

It's at Tivoli Corner - the corner of the building by the junction of Princes Street, Moorgate and Lothbury - and is a statue by Charles Wheeler of the spirit 'Ariel' from Shakespeare's The Tempest. This is apparently because the Governor of the Bank of England from 1920-1944, Montagu Norman, was described as a modern 'Prospero' by the bank's architect, Herbert Baker.

Also at Tivoli Corner (named after the Italian town which influenced many an architect in the 18th Century) is a dome covered walkway effectively cutting through the corner of the bank. It has an oculus (circular opening) in the dome, around which is the inscription: "The Bank made this way through Tivoli Corner for the citizens of London AD 1936".

Oculus in the dome of Tivoli Corner

A generous gesture, though a somewhat unnecessary one since there's a perfectly serviceable pavement right next to the cut-through.



Smile, you're on
candid camera...

On the other hand, the word 'oculus' comes from the Latin word meaning 'the eye', and a closer look through the overhead window reveals another 'eye' keeping watch on all those who pass beneath it.

Perhaps making such an attractive walkway was just a ruse by the authorities to encourage ne'er-do-well vagabonds to commit their crimes in an enclosed space under the ever watchful eye of Big Brother...


Either way, it's the end to another full day of travelling, and a day of learning that sometimes there's more going on above your eye-line than you might think.

'Green River'

Day 60

Marble Arch - Marylebone - Mile End

Another scorcher of a day as I set off on what promises to be a relatively easy day's travelling - my first stop being just twenty minutes from home on the Central Line, and the one after that within walking distance of the first. The third station is almost as straightforward, though a little further out east, and again on the Central Line.

In fact the only potential downside of all of this is that I might get round so quickly that I decide to attempt the next station on the list as well - but that one is unfortunately not so conveniently situated.

*** 

However, let's not get ahead of ourselves - I start the day at one of London's many well-known historical landmarks: Marble Arch.



Marble Arch - the station

Marble Arch - the arch

Now, somewhere in the back of my mind I have a vague recollection that in a previous post I've already regaled you with a potted history of the arch and its not immediately obvious relationship to Buckingham Palace.

But try as I might, I'm damned if I can find that post. I've tried the obvious places - Hyde Park Corner and Green Park (being the closest to Buckingham Palace) but drawn a blank. So - apologies for the repetition, if there is any, but I'm not going to trawl through every single post in search of a few paragraphs which may in any case be nothing more than figments of my imagination.

Anyway - on with the history.

The white marble monumental arch which now stands at the junction of Oxford Street, Park Lane, Edgware Road and Bayswater Road, was designed in 1827 by the prolific Regency architect John Nash. It was designed for, and originally situated at, the front entrance of Buckingham Palace which in those days was a three winged 'horseshoe' shaped edifice surrounding a court yard open to the front. the Arch was to be the ceremonial entrance to this courtyard.



One of the ornamental
gates in the arch.

When Queen Victoria came along, however, and decided to have rather more children than was strictly necessary, together with a huge retinue of courtiers, the palace was deemed to be too 'small' (I know - don't get me started) and so it was decided to fully enclose the courtyard with an additional wing - including the now famous balcony from which the Royal Family occasionally stand and wave at us.



This of course necessitated the relocation of the arch elsewhere (well, it wasn't cheap was it? - they weren't going to go and dump it in a skip just because they'd changed their minds about how they wanted their front door).

Some of the decorative ornamentation.

In 1851, therefore, the reconstruction of the Arch in its present location was completed and it became a ceremonial entrance to Hyde Park. Not surprisingly perhaps, given its original intended purpose, the only people historically allowed to pass though the arch were members of the Royal Family and their Royal Artillery. What is slightly more surprising is that this is still, technically, the case - though nobody enforces the rule.

One of the doorways
leading to the former
'police station'

The arch has three small rooms contained within it, which until as recently as 1968 were used as a miniature police station (that's a police station which is miniature - not a station for miniature policemen...)




The arch does seem to have a recurring problem fulfilling its intended purpose. Having already been moved once because it was no longer required as an entrance to Buckingham Palace, its use as an entrance to Hyde Park seems equally to have fallen by the wayside, as the widening of Park Lane in the 1960s has left it stranded in the middle of a busy roundabout.

The roundabout does at least have a bit of greenery on it, left over from its excision from the north-east corner of the park, and it also now features some rather striking sculpture.

Horse At Water

Firstly, and most obvious as you drive or walk round the Arch, is the figure of a horse's head known as 'Still Water'.


The plaque at its base gives the bare minimum of information - including (confusingly) a different title for the piece: 'Horse At Water'.



Artist information on the plinth.

In fact, 'Horse At Water' was an earlier, smaller version of the same sculpture, which originally stood here, and has since been moved to a country house in Gloucestershire. (I'm spotting a theme here - can nothing stay put for more than five minutes???)

Brothers

A little further along, and closer to the fountains which are the other main feature of this roundabout, is a sculpture entitled 'Brothers'.


More info

Again, the informative plaque is not actually all that informative, but the artist's website tells me that 'The position of Brothers at Marble Arch is very significant as this sculpture is a human arch showing the joining of two minds. It is an image of coming together, resolution and peace. But, it also offers a suggestion of symbolic meanings showing the arch as a symbol of connection and resolution. Distances between people that were formerly unbridgeable are now connected in less than a second and Brothers expresses this miraculous element of modernity'... Which works for me.

The fountains are the final point of interest on the roundabout, and are always fun to watch for a few moments on a hot day

Fountains by Marble Arch



You put your left foot in...

And of course, for some, its an opportunity to rest one's weary feet and enjoy a refreshing foot spa...







Just to the north of the roundabout, at the very bottom of Edgware road, is another little traffic island - this time triangular in shape and seemingly unremarkable other than having a trio of recently planted trees growing on it.

If you look closer at the triangular spot delineated by these three trees, however, you'll notice a circular stone plaque set into the pavement, informing you that this was the site of the original Tyburn 'Tree' - which was the euphemistic term for the Tyburn Gallows, probably the most famous site of public execution in the city.

Tyburn 'Tree'

The name Tyburn was that of the village which originally stood at this location, and the gallows was unusual tin that it was able to execute several victims simultaneously. Forget any ideas you might have from the word game 'Hangman' of an inverted L-shape with a single noose hanging from it. This was a triangular frame laid flat atop three upright posts - with enough dangle room (as recorded on at least one occasion) for eight convicts to be hanged along each side of the triangle.

The 'Tyburn Tree'

Which gives a rather more sinister significance to the fact that three new trees, in just such a triangular arrangement, have recently been planted here......

***
And so on to the next station on the list.

As is often the way of things in this city, the station I'm about to visit shares its name not only with a major thoroughfare, but also with the surrounding area. Sometimes this is a gradual process (and very much 'unofficial') as the local inhabitants use the station name as a kind of shorthand. In other cases the area name is official, and - in the case of Marylebone - has its origins in the local parish.

Marylebone is an area roughly bounded by four major roads - Great Portland St to the east, Oxford St to the south, Edgware Rd to the west and, of course, Marylebone Rd to the north. Marble Arch is therefore pretty much at the South Western apex of the area and it's only a - 10-15 minute walk through the elegant Regency streets to reach Marylebone Station.

Along the way I notice what seems to be a more than usual concentration of commemorative Blue Plaques, and - perhaps because being in a more central location makes me feel more 'touristy' than I usually do - I have to resist the urge to photograph every single one of them.

Elizabeth Garrett Anderson's House

Blue Plaque

On the other hand, one or two names catch my eye as worth a mention.

The first of these is Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, who - as the plaque proclaims - was the first woman to qualify as a doctor in Britain. Not only that, however, she was also a suffragette, the first female doctor of medicine in France, the founder of a hospital staffed by women, the fist female mayor and magistrate in Britain, the first woman to be elected to a school board and the first dean of a medical school.

Not bad, given that this was in the late 19th Century, when a woman's place was still very firmly 'in the home'.

Another woman - though very much more recently - whose name rings a distinct bell with me, is the founder of the world famous theatre school, Sylvia Young. Housed currently in a converted church, the school lists among its alumni such well-known names as Billie Piper, Keeley Hawes, Amy Winehouse, Rita Ora, and EastEnders actors Nick Berry and Adam Woodyatt.

Sylvia Young school

Having begun with '10p a lesson' classes at her daughter's primary school, Sylvia Young went on to found her theatre school in 1972 with part-time evening classes. This became full-time in 1981.

A little further on, and I find another Blue Plaque, featuring another successful woman, and another theatre connection: Emma Cons, founder of the Old Vic theatre.

She lived during the same period as Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, and was equally vehement in her fight for women's suffrage.

She founded the Old Vic as the 'Royal Victoria Coffee And Music Hall' - offering cheap entertainment, including Shakespeare and Opera, to the working class people of the area.

Emma Cons had help running the theatres from her niece - Lilian Baylis - who would eventually go on to be one of the great theatrical producers of the early 20th Century, running both the Old Vic and Sadler's Wells theatres.

Finally I reach Marylebone Road, and the station itself.

Marylebone Railway Station

Being a mainline station as well as an underground station, I have to go inside for the 'official' photo of the tube station entrance.

Marylebone Tube Station

But other than a few shops and cafés, the interior has little of interest - it's a station much like any other, this time being the terminus of trains mainly heading north-west along the A40 corridor towards Oxford and the Midlands.

As such, it's one of the least busy London terminals, which has attracted film and TV companies to use it as a 'stand-in' for some of the other, more crowded stations. It has made appearances in the film Paddington (standing in for the real Paddington Station), Spooks (ditto), Upstairs Downstairs (standing in for Charing Cross), the film The Ipcress File, and even an episode of Magnum P.I.

In 1964, however, it played host to the cast and crew of one film which starred four of the most well-known male performers on the planet - The Beatles.

Several scenes for the film A Hard Day's Night were shot here, including the arrival of the 'fab four' at the station entrance:

A Hard Day's Night

Today's arrivals aren't quite so frenetic...

A Not Quite So Hard Day's Late Morning...

***

I head back south into the heart of the Marylebone area.

I'm heading back towards Oxford Street and the Central Line to take me on to my next destination, but along the way I plan to visit a museum I've often heard of but have yet to experience.

Porcelain

I first came across The Wallace Collection - a collection of various objets d'art, paintings and weaponry - while I was at drama school, rehearsing a restoration comedy. It was mentioned in passing as somewhere to visit in order to view the sort of thing a well-to-do family of the time might own.

Clock in Billiard Room

Needless to say neither I nor any of the rest of the cast ever got round to visiting the collection, and so it's been lurking there, at the back of my mind, for years.

Marquetry

The Landing

The collection is housed in Hertford House, Manchester Square. This was the London home of the Marquesses of Hertford - the Seymour-Conway family - and it was the 4th Marquess, Captain Richard Seymour-Conway, who was the first serious collector in the family.

Large Drawing Room

Rembrandt Self-Portrait

He died without a legitimate heir, and so the collection passed into the hands of his illegitimate son, Richard Wallace - hence the collection's subsequent name.

Great Gallery

Snuff Boxes

Sir Richard, as he later became, continued his father's work, and the entire collection was bequeathed to the nation by his widow in 1897.

It's certainly an impressive collection. The house is very large and the collection fills every last nook and cranny, often to the extent that you feel somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer finery of everything around you.

I do find my interest waning after a while, however. For those who are into in this sort of thing I'm sure it's fascinating and every item will be an important and valuable example of its kind. For me, there's only so much gilt-covered bits of porcelain or pieces of furniture I really need to see in one lifetime.

On the other hand, the collection of weaponry is fascinating - if only to show off the extent of human ingenuity in finding different ways to maim and kill each other.

Asian Daggers

German Armour



Daggers & Crossbow

Cannon

Finally, I leave the collection and head southwards toward Oxford Street and Bond Street tube station, from where I get the train to Mile End.

***
Mile End is, as the name might suggest, originally the name of a milestone marking the distance from the City of London (in this case measured from Aldgate).

Mile End

It's rather a marked contrast to the opulence of the Wallace Collection, but none the less colourful for all that.



Who needs Google Maps...

The main landmark near the station is The Green Bridge, which crosses the main A11 road and links the two halves of the Mile End Park. Although its yellow underside has apparently given rise to another name - the Banana Bridge - the official name derives from the idea of local architect Piers Gough to have trees and grass on top of the bridge as well as at either end of it.

The Green Bridge

The park itself was created from bombed out industrial land following WWII and contains various different areas including an ecology park, a play area, an arts park and the aforementioned bridge.

Art Pavilion

In 1381, during the Peasants' Revolt, this area also saw some 60,000 'Men Of Essex' camping here before meeting up with the Kentish rebels the following day and putting their grievances to King Richard II.

The western boundary of the park is marked by the Regent's Canal. You might be forgiven for missing the canal entirely, since it seems to have camouflaged itself in the colour of the park next door.



Regent's Canal

And that's about it for Mile End, and indeed for my travels today.

I've decided to quit while I'm ahead rather than trying to squeeze another station in and not giving it its due time and consideration - so Mill Hill East will have to wait till next time.

Until then... ta-ta for now!