Trafalgar Square Post Office—gone but not forgotten.

24th December 2018 was a dark day, even for those used to the seemingly endless stream of announcements about post office closures. It was on this day that Trafalgar Square Post Office last closed its doors to the public.

Once claiming to have one of the longest post office counters in the world, the Trafalgar Square office finally succumbed to a combination of financial, policy and external changes that have dominated the recent history of the postal service. In fact the office had already been severely reduced, in 2001 losing much of its counter space and the frontage onto St Martin’s Place, which rather took away its street presence from the tourist trap of Trafalgar Square itself. It also meant the loss of the dedicated philatelic counter (also selling Royal Mint coins) although replaced by a smaller counter inside. This too, has now gone, though there are rumblings it might spring up, phoenix-like, in Broadway post office SW1, one of a diminishing number of crown offices that seems to be surviving.

The Trafalgar Square office opened on 27th November 1962 and was something of a showcase. And it was huge. It replaced the Charing Cross branch office near Leicester Square, an unsuitable office in Charing Cross Road opposite Wyndham’s Theatre.  It was one of the first new post offices to demonstrate the new corporate identity adopted by the GPO (General Post Office) for its customer-facing premises. Not a great deal of this identity system survives now, but it involved the usual angular metal and glass style, perversely being adopted by many other organizations at about the same time. Externally a stainless steel strip was favoured with lettering impressed in bold red capitals. Internally the latest plastic signage was evident together with the latest fad in typefaces, a modified version of the Clarendon typeface undertaken by designer Stuart Rose for the GPO public relations department (and castigated by another specialist design house appointed soon afterwards).

So proud of its new premises the GPO produced a handsome booklet to mark the occasion. It described all the facilities to be provided, including new features such as posting slots at each counter position and a lower floor provided with a large number of telephones from which (if required) international calls could be made in relative peace and tranquillity. (I must explain that in those days one was fortunate if one could dial more than 50 miles from central London without operator assistance, let alone abroad. However ‘Subscriber Trunk Dialling’ was becoming available in London and was available from this post office).


The GPO was ever so proud of this facility (referring to it as one of the finest Post Offices in Europe). The main counter, with its 33 service positions that occupied most of the length of the office also had a large parcels acceptance area at the Adelaide Street end. The GPO claimed that the counter was as long as Nelson’s Column was high. It was intended that the office operate 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Taking a leaf from the famous Windmill Theatre, the GPO for a little while used the slogan ‘we never close’. It is hard to say with certainty that owing to some external event the office never closed, but some press photos taken during the dark days of the 3-day week show it fully open for business and illuminated by lanterns and torches.


External view of Trafalgar Square office at about the time of opening. The yellow strip was a contemporary fad used to cheer up black & white images, in this case highlighting the area used by the post office.


Interior of the Post Office shortly after opening


One of the counter positions at or around time of opening. The woman (Miss Mervyn Pike DBE, MP for Melton, Assistant Postmaster-General) is posting a letter into one of the counter slots.

To see this post office first reduced to that of a normal-sized office, was depressing enough. The floor space was simply lopped off at one end to become a posh sandwich and coffee outlet, with a few other shops occupying space fronting William IV Street; the surviving area was little better than a lash up with long-standing decay now more obvious and very unattractive. A visit by the Financial Mail in 2004 found the office ‘a shabby disgrace’, and that ‘it looked appalling, with grubby floor tiles, broken lights and a gloomy interior’. Perhaps this and representations from others who had an interest in the survival of this office caused a rethink. I cannot recall whether this had the slightest immediate effect, but in 2011/12 there was a complete refit which ‘turned it into a welcoming place, busy with tourists and locals alike. Red leather sofas welcome customers who sit and wait to be called rather than queue. The 16 counters are almost all manned and there are four machines to handle postal needs if you do not require the personal touch’, said the Financial Mail commenting in 2012. It was hoped the premises was now secure. It was, for a while, but the position became unsustainable and it has now gone, and with it, its loyal staff. I have not found a date for the end of its 24-hour service but suppose it was during the early ’90s when late night collections ceased at all the main London sorting offices.


Trafalgar Square PO in William IV Street in 2008 after halving of its length but before refurbishment. The machines and shop seen here were once part of the PO frontage.  [Streetview]

I do not blame the Post Office, or, at least, not very much. Like various government bodies it has been a victim of long-term poor and unimaginative political control whose well-rehearsed solution to difficult problems is to put off any controversial action that can be pushed into the future, to reduce budgets (impacting on services and appearance) and to make arbitrary decisions to outsource bits and pieces (for reasons good and bad) with little comprehension about unexpected consequences. These problems are not unique to the Post Office but have manifested themselves particularly conspicuously in this area and with an irritating degree of inevitability (that is to say, some of the ills seen now could perhaps have been avoided).

For example, the Post Office (then known as the GPO) was once a single integrated organization providing postal, parcels, telecommunications and savings services. The buildings were provided and maintained by the Ministry of Public Buildings and Works, so the GPO itself had little infrastructure of its own except telecommunications apparatus. The Ministry sometimes co-located GPO activities within other government buildings, for example in Holborn the large Board of Trade office called Lacon House incorporated a large ground-floor post office on the busy Theobald’s Road frontage. To me this seems a very sensible approach. Successive reorganization of the GPO resulted in loss of its savings activities in the early 1960s, its setting up as a hands-off corporation in 1969 and the separation of telecoms activities in 1981. At each change, the consequential remnants acquired the property interests required to operate their respective bits of their businesses, central government ownership ceasing. This was problematic. Buildings designed as integrated premises, for example government offices with post offices inside, or buildings designed as integrated post offices, sorting offices and telephone exchanges, became divided up in a way inconvenient to manage as a whole.  The outcome was property in a form that was found inefficient and inflexible in the long term, increasing maintenance costs and making redevelopment awkward.

It is helpful to add to the two dates just given, that the Post Office Corporation became a stand-alone publicly-owned company in 2000 (you may recall it was first called Consignia plc but after howls of outrage—or, in some quarters, hilarity) it was rebranded Royal Mail Holdings plc. It presided over two subsidiaries, Royal Mail and Post Office Counters Ltd. The latter (essentially the high street counters) was eventually spun off and remains in the public sector as its shares are wholly owned by the government, whilst Royal Mail (which collects and delivers mail) was sold off. This further complicated matters of historic ownership.

Taking what became Post Office Counters Ltd, a 2005 report observed that the company owned the freehold of only 23 per cent of its estate, some 130 of the directly managed branches. However 31 per cent was owned by Royal Mail Ltd which, as just stated, was divorced from the Post Office and which, unlike the Post Office, has now been privatized. 46 per cent (256 properties) were leased from private landlords, about two-thirds from a wide range of other businesses or property companies and the rest from individual investors or local government. Seven percent was owned by BT, reflecting the two companies’ histories. At that time, of all the leased properties, more than half the leases had only five years or less to run. Renewed terms, even if renewing were possible, were bound to be on less favourable terms. All in all this was a very adverse financial situation for the Post Office to find itself in. Nor was it helpful that it could not be certain about its own future which did not help longer term planning.

Obviously, the explosion of electronic communication has severely damaged the concept of the traditional post office and some kind of change was inevitable. However, unless it is actually policy to shut every last one of them, then business viability would seem to me to involve giving them more useful work to do than perversely taking it away so that the illusion is given that somewhere else in the government’s repertoire something might be proclaimed cheaper (but ultimately might well not be). 

It hardly needs saying that with the government progressively withdrawing Post Office business, one might even think it strange that anybody thinks that survival at all might be possible. The Giro banking business (created by the Post Office) was sold, much government business such as pension payment is now done directly with recipients. The government is desperately attempting to put on line or outsource everything else, taking away further post office business and making what remains even more difficult to deliver. Yet under government control it has not the freedom to do entirely what it might otherwise like, such as filling the huge geographical gaps left as a result of banking closures. This of course deeply affects certain groups of people more than others, especially very old people who cannot use computers. For this group the Post Office was, and is, crucial and screaming headlines during 2019 that the whole organization was in crisis is not reassuring. It does sometimes make me wonder why Post Offices could not become more representative of government within the local community and perhaps at the same time even provide a third party ‘front’ for the larger banks. In the meantime, nearly all the news is negative. Unfortunately, it is often the case that when ‘in the interests of economy’ services are reduced, outsourced or just cease, the rump that is left, also becomes unviable as it cannot reduce overheads at the same rate and loses the power of scale of business. If it becomes more inconvenient to find a post office, let alone use one, then what is left will become an unusable service.

In the case of Trafalgar Square, we are given to understand that the building within which it was situated was not Post Office property. When built the land was part of the Crown Estate and the building was built as a private development with facilities for the GPO on the ground and lower ground floors. The actual Post Office element was designed by Philip Watkinson (of the Dept PB&W) but I am not sure if he was involved with the rest of the structure. The building in its existing form appears to be life expired and the present owners want to make profound changes to it and alter its usage, apparently with ground floor retail and a hotel (yes another one), roof garden and some residential. The usual sort of thing to delight a planning committee. In the circumstances it is not viable for the Post Office to remain. A banner outside explained the nearest Post Office branches were at Aldwych, Regent Street or High Holborn, none exactly a direct replacement.

A copy of the letter announcing the closure may be found HERE.

Naturally I regret its passing. I was once involved in an enterprise where large quantities of mail had to be dispatched and well recall late night visits to Trafalgar Square where one could buy stamps, had space to seal and stamp a lot of mail and post it at 11pm. It was busy too. Such a thing is now impossible and businesses having such a need get some third party organization to do this. It seems odd that in a World capital city one cannot do this now. Perhaps Royal Mail, no longer shackled by government, might set up its own post offices and use a bit of imagination about it.

Posted in London general interest | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

The London Passenger Transport Area – An Explanation


If I said that London Transport’s original operating area was a consequence of an expected shortage of electricity in London, you might be rather surprised. However, that is what I am saying, so I had better explain why.

Where London starts and finishes has exercised many minds for many years, and even today the comparatively modern Greater London boundary of 1965 is not satisfactory for all purposes, notwithstanding some adjustments of the border. For want of a sensible area within which transport services could be organized, there existed for 36 years an area called the London Passenger Transport Area. This essay explains what it was and how its boundary came about.

Metropolitan Police District

Throughout Queen Victoria’s reign, the want of any definition of London’s border had continually troubled the authorities. A convenient border arose in 1829 when the Metropolitan Police was formed. This boundary was pushed outwards in 1840 to embrace an area roughly 15 miles distant from Charing Cross, and it was often used as a proxy for the boundary of London.

During the early Victorian period, various measures were taken by the government to licence omnibus drivers, conductors and vehicles in the London area, but from 1853 these powers were delegated to the Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis, and so began a system of tight regulation of public transport by road within the Metropolitan Police District (MPD). The police had already been landed with the management of the Public Carriage Office (PCO), to which these new duties were added. The PCO looked after the licensing and inspection of public carriages and cab drivers, including investigating their character and knowledge and the police only lost this responsibility in 2000.


The Metropolitan Police District. This was the area over which police control over bus routes was exerted (and amplified after the 1924 Act)

At this stage the Metropolitan Police was solely concerned with the compliance and licencing of drivers, conductors and their vehicles and, in the case of buses, was not concerned about the actual routes the buses chose to operate.

London Traffic Area

The London Traffic Act 1924 established a London & Home Counties Traffic Advisory Committee to assist the Minister of Transport in determining policies for transport provision in the London region (mainly as this affected road traffic). As may be inferred from its catchy title, the committee had a remit within an area larger even than the Metropolitan Police District, and a ‘London Traffic Area’ was defined, by an irregular boundary extending from Welwyn to Redhill, and Beaconsfield to Wickford. This placed the boundary very roughly 25 miles from central London, the boundary itself following convenient local authority boundaries. The Committee produced many reports respecting transportation within this area until its abolition in 1962.

Within the (smaller) Metropolitan and City of London Police Districts, the same Act gave the respective police commissioners powers to act as licensing authorities to control the operation of buses. The police commissioners were thenceforth authorized to establish ‘approved [bus] routes’ between particular terminals and along particular roads and require buses authorized to ply for hire to adhere to the particular schedules, fares and fare stages they supplied in advance. The commissioners could also establish restricted streets over which the number of vehicles was controlled. Outside the MPD bus services remained wholly unregulated.

We must now ask why the London Traffic area was so large. There was much disagreement at the time about the size of this area, but attempts while the bill was in Parliament to constrain it to the Metropolitan Police District failed on the grounds that many of London’s traffic problems actually began well outside the metropolis.

The area was in fact quite arbitrary. The foundations of this Act go back to 1923 when this supra-local government body was first considered by the Ministry of Transport and it was found that there was no convenient boundary to which it could be tied. However, at that time the supply of electricity was also overseen by the Ministry and it so happened that a number of joint electricity authorities had just been set up in the hope that by pooling resources and working together to build larger and more efficient power stations, the rising need for electricity could be met by existing (mainly private-sector) suppliers. I should add that at that time there was no national electricity grid. Because of the way existing power stations were located, and existing transmission lines were laid, the areas needed to be quite large. For the London Electricity District an area of about 1980 square miles was chosen, forming a ring of about 25 miles diameter from central London. The area was to be the responsibility of the London & Home Counties Joint Electricity Authority. A large chunk in the Watford area was omitted from the scheme for some reason, and there were small gaps near Windsor and Dorking, but with those readily fixable imperfections the area seemed as good as any other and was in consequence selected as the London Traffic Area (the omissions near Watford, Windsor and Dorking now included).

The fall of the conservative government in 1923 meant the proposed bill did not get anywhere, but during a transport strike in early 1924 the draft bill was retrieved by the new labour government because the clauses relating to the regulation of buses, it was alleged, would reduce revenue abstraction by the so-called pirate buses, enabling the striking bus and tram staff to get a pay increase (the strike was politically embarrassing while the British Empire Exhibition was about to be launched). In some haste, the bill was pushed through Parliament intact, and the London Traffic Area was created, based on the electricity district and with little time or inclination to think of anything better.

Traffic Areas and Bus Regulation

The Road Traffic Act 1930 sought to regulate the operation of buses throughout the United Kingdom, and to this end divided England and Scotland into a number of traffic areas. Most traffic areas were regulated by a team of three traffic commissioners who took responsibility for licensing public service vehicle drivers and conductors, the issuing of licences for those vehicles and approval of fares and routes—the latter with a fairly light touch.

London (already heavily regulated) was different. A Metropolitan Traffic Area (MTA) was formed, comprising the Metropolitan and City of London Police Districts, and only one (Metropolitan) Traffic Commissioner was appointed. The Metropolitan Traffic Commissioner took over route approval for routes that were not classed as short-stage carriages, such as long distance buses and coaches passing to or through London. The Metropolitan Traffic Commissioner also took responsibility for issuing Public Service Vehicle Licences and certificates of fitness for all vehicles operating stage, contract or express services that operated within the Metropolitan Traffic Area. The Metropolitan Police continued to undertake approval of all drivers and conductors residing in the MPD and continued to apply existing legislation to so-called short-stage carriages (i.e. buses) operating local services along ‘approved routes’.

At the end of 1930 we have the Metropolitan Police District and the Metropolitan Traffic Area which shared a common outer boundary about 15 miles from the centre, and the much larger London Traffic Area with a boundary about 25 miles from the centre. Confusingly, the London Traffic Area overlapped several traffic areas set up under the 1930 Act, but as the LTA was not involved in bus regulation this appears not to have been a problem.

The Arrival of London Transport

This is not the place to set out the history of London Transport. Suffice to say that by about 1930 there was political consensus to set up a public board to which a public transport monopoly was to be given (or in the case of the railways, to be shared). The railway side of matters will be looked at later. But what was this area to comprise?

The London Passenger Transport bill was introduced in Parliament in March 1931. There was much debate about its area of control but the minister, Herbert Morrison indicated that the consensus was the area should include London and the whole of the suburban ring from which the to and fro daily traffic of London workers was generated. The London Traffic Area appeared ready made for this purpose and the principle of adopting it was quickly accepted.

The mechanics of this impacted on other jurisdictions. As first proposed, it was intended to expand the remit of the Metropolitan Traffic Commissioner to cover the much larger London Traffic Area (which enclosed very nearly 2000 square miles). This kept administrative responsibilities simple, with just the one boundary. London Transport was to be given a monopoly in carriage of passengers within the LTA and would be able to operate buses without road service licences. Other operators would be able to operate to and from London but would require road service licences granted by the traffic commissioner and could not carry passengers locally within the LTA (without London Transport permission). However London Transport was to be given powers to carry passengers anywhere outside the LTA if it obtained the requisite road service licence for each such service so far as it operated outside the LTA. The bill proposed retaining the duty of dealing with driver and conductor licencing with the Metropolitan Police inside the MPD, making it the traffic commissioner’s job outside. The bill recognized the difficulty caused by this split responsibility might be awkward and allowed for this to be changed, if needed, to make the Metropolitan Police responsible for driver and conductor licensing within the whole of the LTA (in a modified form this was done)

The Need For Compromise

These proposals generated furious opposition from bus proprietors. Objections centred on London Transport’s apparent freedom to operate anywhere in the country—which was considered unreasonable on several grounds. Even within the LTA, there were well argued concerns about the questionable impact its monopoly would have on established local services in many towns on the periphery of the area, the effect of which in no way served to benefit London but would seriously damage existing interests. The bill went before a joint select committee of both Houses at the end of April 1931, with legal representation for all interested parties. The bus proprietors made their objections very clear. Transport professionals argued that no sensible bus operation would work to this arbitrary collection of random local parish and district borders. Bus operators argued that borders ran through established bus operations, splitting them and making some services (and some operators) unviable. Towns that ought logically to be included were overlooked and those who looked outwards from London were dragged in.

Few felt that the intended boundary was not about the right distance out, but it needed to be adjusted to suit the local transport conditions area by area. This ought to have been no surprise since the intended boundary had been contrived to suit the needs of the electricity supply industry and related to the flows of electric power! The committee quickly saw that there was no particular need to resist accommodating these entirely reasonable matters and within a short space of time, during May and June 1931, London Transport’s architects willingly conceded that a fresh boundary line would be needed in many places.

Working with counsel for the various bus operators, a new boundary was contrived that sometimes followed the border of the LTA, but frequently followed an entirely new line, occasionally embracing additional towns or areas (such as Hemel Hempstead and Tring) but with instances where the boundary was pulled back to avoid areas where there was no strategic reason to serve them, such as the area just west of Woking. In many cases the boundary followed the route of main roads rather than administrative boundaries. The new area was known as the London Passenger Transport Area (or LPT Area) and it was crafted with meticulous care and compromise.

In reaching that compromise different complications arose. London Transport’s promoters wanted to reach certain important destinations, such as Aylesbury, but were content to avoid suggesting that it should form part of their operating area. This was achieved by excluding those places from the LPT Area but conferring operating rights along the key access roads—such as the A413 into Aylesbury and the A40 between High Wycombe and West Wycombe. The corollary of this was that there were places within the LPT Area that formed natural traffic objectives for operators from without, and they were given rights to use certain defined roads without requiring London Transport approval. Examples of these may be seen at Old Woking and in Beaconsfield.

The treatment of London Transport’s powers now needs explaining. The new board had powers to run buses throughout the whole of the LPT Area and on certain roads to traffic objectives beyond this area. Following the protests referred to earlier, the board was not given powers to run services anywhere else.

However, about four fifths of the LPT Area, as now defined, also lay within the LTA. This coincident area was known as the ‘Special’ area and it was within this area that London Transport was granted an absolute monopoly of carriage of passengers by stage and express carriages (or buses and coaches, in everyday parlance). Within the special area other operators were not actually prohibited, but they were forbidden to pick up and set down anyone within that area, though they could freely carry anyone starting outside and finishing their journey within London, or vice versa, providing they had a road service licence issued by the Traffic Commissioner. This was usually self enforcing by either not having a published fare for a local journey within London or publishing the same fare as would apply to the first stop outside London, making it very unlikely anyone would pay it. London Transport could permit another operator in writing to both pick up and set down passengers within the special area, but this privilege was very rarely granted. As alluded to earlier, in certain cases other operators could use certain roads to reach objectives within the LPT area (including special area) set out in the bill (Staines, Shepperton and Weybridge being examples of towns served by outside services in this way).

It was also considered helpful to allow a further degree of latitude in how far away London Transport could operate services, reflecting the possibility that circumstances can change faster than the law can keep up. This was done by giving London Transport a general power to run services beyond the LPT boundary, but only to a ‘convenient terminal’ not more than a mile beyond the boundary of the LPT Area in the case of Berkshire, and half a mile everywhere else. In the case of contract carriages (or hired buses) the distances were five miles beyond the boundary into Kent but ten miles anywhere else. It was not permitted to have a separate fare for such a destination. Equally, other operators were allowed to intrude within the special area without London Transport’s consent, by up to half a mile to reach a convenient stand or terminal.


This map of the new LPT Area (the two coloured areas) can be compared with the London Traffic Area, the dotted line sometimes inside and sometimes outside the LPT Area. It may be seen that although the areas are about the same size, the LPT Area has departed very significantly from the LTA during the course of the bill.

Redefining the Metropolitan Traffic Area

One consequence of this new approach to settling the LPT Area is that the role of the traffic commissioner had to be revisited.  Neither the LTA nor the LPT Area was suited as the boundary of the traffic commissioner’s jurisdiction so the Metropolitan Traffic Area had to be enlarged. The general principle was that the MTA was enlarged at least to the LPT Area boundary, or the LTA boundary where this were larger. However, in certain instances where the LPT Area passed through a town, the MTA was further enlarged to meet a convenient administrative boundary. For example in High Wycombe, the LPT boundary lies in the town centre while the Metropolitan Traffic Area encompasses the whole town.

It may be seen from what has been said that three boundaries had been created where previously there had been only one, and these boundaries might in places run together and in other places zig-zag all over the place and crossing over each other quite incoherently.  The challenge now was to communicate what had been done to interested parties.

Defining the Boundary

An outcome of this iterative method of determining the boundary was that it was impractical to describe it by means of the customary aggregations of existing administrative areas—which could usually be achieved by words alone. Instead, the boundaries were drawn on a huge signed map submitted to Parliament in June 1931, and the LPT Area remained so defined until it was abolished in 1969. The signed map was a composite of the appropriate Ordnance Survey half-inch sheets, trimmed to just beyond the LPT Area, with the coloured boundaries drawn on and legend and title in manuscript. So that the various boundaries were available for inspection, the promoters hastily printed versions of the map for the benefit of parliamentary officers and apologised for the fact that the overprints were a little out of register, referring interested parties to the signed version where precision were needed. To date, no copies of these printed maps have been located.

The true definition of the LPT Area is given in the seventh schedule of the 1933 Act, as follows: The London Passenger Transport Area shall consist of the area comprised within the continuous purple line shown on the signed map (… the map signed in triplicate by the Rt Honourable the Earl of Lytton … and has been deposited, as to one copy, in the Parliament Office of the House of Lords, as to another copy, in the Committee and Private Bill Office of the House of Commons, and, as to a third copy, at the Ministry of Transport). With so many interested parties concerned with the precise location of each of these administrative boundaries there came an urgent need for readily available copies of maps that showed them at a tolerably large scale, and so was born the Ordnance Survey one-inch  sheets of the London Passenger Transport Map.



The label and the key to the LPT Map signed and retained in parliamentary archives. Part of the overprinted boundaries just visible on left hand side.

The Ordnance Survey is the government’s mapping agency and had the job of producing detailed maps showing these boundaries. This was achieved by means of 12 maps at the 1-inch to the mile scale, about the minimum where the boundary lines could be interpreted on the ground. A small section of one of these is illustrated here, showing the High Wycombe area. The Metropolitan Traffic Area is shown green, the LPT Area in purple, and the London Traffic Area in yellow.


Naturally, the need to consult 12 sheets in order to gain an impression of the boundary locations could be very inconvenient and for routine use a whole range of maps were produced at a wide range of scales.


The largest I know of was a special production comprising relevant sections of the OS black & white outline maps at 1-inch scale with the various boundaries and other information overprinted in colour. It is dissected and stuck on a thick linen backing, the whole lot folded in a gold-printed cover. It is absolutely vast and I have no room large enough to unfold the whole thing.

A more practical proposition is the half-inch map. My copy, again specially produced, comprises 9 dissected panels on linen, this time of the relevant parts of the OS coloured half-inch map, again carefully over-printed. Mine is folded in maroon covers. There is some evidence this was produced in-house by F.H. Stingemore. It is still rather larger than the average office desk.



This map from my collection, uniquely has the various areas between the confusion of boundary lines shaded in different colours to aid interpretation. The illustration shows a single panel.


A more convenient size map was based on one of Stanford’s 3-inches to the mile maps of London (mine is dated 1947) and again overprinted in colour. This one is very much an at-a-glance edition and gives a reasonable amount of detail, good enough for most purposes. But there were lots more maps showing these areas and these appeared in lots of documents and reports.


This shows about a quarter of the whole map.  London Traffic Area black, LPT Area purple and Metropolitan Traffic Area green. Just visible at bottom is part of the Metropolitan Police District in yellow. Several roads in Dunstable/Aylesbury areas available for use by London Transport.

Dealing with the Railways

So far as London Transport’s railways are concerned the need for a map was less essential since, being static and well defined, railways coming into new ownership could be described within the body of the 1933 Act itself. On the maps, all railways usually appear in the same form as they would on an ordinary map; any stations within the LPT Area boundary being deemed to be subject to the 1933 Act, whether main line or London Transport stations.

A major feature of the new legislation was the creation of a Standing Joint Committee of London Transport and the four main line railways. One function of the Committee was to manage the statutory revenue pool, already mentioned; the LPT Pool achieved cooperation conspicuously well until the Second World War put paid to it. The original intention was that the pool would comprise railway services between all stations within the LTA, but as events unfolded this became more complicated. In essence, the main line companies were required to pool revenues with London Transport within the new LPT Area, the LPT map clearly showing which stations were in or outside.

However, a difficulty arose where London Transport was authorised to run bus services beyond the boundary. In this event, the same external catchments would then be served by both pooled (bus) and non-pooled (railway) operations and this was felt undesirable. In the end it was decided to include railway stations that were outside the LPT Area where they abutted such roads; these are shown on the LPT Map underlined in purple—see both West Wycombe and Wendover by way of examples. These stations were shown with a purple underline on the official map and the 1-inch versions, but rarely appeared on the small scale versions.

Demise of the London Passenger Transport Area

The LPT area survived nationalization unchanged and even survived the setting up of London Transport as a separate board in 1963. The LPT area even defined a special fares area within which British Rail participated. When the Greater London Council was created in 1965 it was given full responsibility for traffic and traffic planning and the London Traffic & Home Counties Traffic Advisory Committee and London Traffic Area were abolished. The London Passenger Transport Area was abolished at the end of 1969 when a new and far smaller London Transport area was defined, coincident with the new Greater London Council area—now the area of the Greater London Authority (GLA). It might be added that when the GLA was established in 2000 the Metropolitan Police District was adjusted to the same boundary and no longer follows the line shown on this map.

The boundary of the Metropolitan Traffic Area was altered in 1983 during wider changes to the traffic areas. In 1984 the surviving powers of the Police Commissioner to grant driver’s licences for buses and coaches was transferred to the Metropolitan Traffic Commissioner. Subsequent changes have seen the Metropolitan traffic area dismantled, the areas south of the Thames and the whole of Greater London passing to the South Eastern Traffic Area, and areas to the north of Greater London passing to the Eastern Traffic Area.

I will leave it to others to consider the abandonment of a plausibly sensible regional approach to transport operations and the creation of a relatively hard boundary so close to central London and cutting across the commuter belt the way it now does. The new, smaller London Transport area suited the politics of the day but it is awful from the transport planning point of view with large towns such as Watford, Epsom, Epping, Brentwood, Swanley and so on being separated from a coherent transport plan for the natural requirements of the area by an arbitrary political boundary (witness Met line Watford Junction extension and the politics of it). In 1933 this was addressed by a flexible approach, a degree of revenue pooling and some common sense. These days there is much to be said for a much larger area for transport planning and the 1933 approach might be worth revisiting.

Posted in British Transport, London Buses, London general interest, London Rail, London Underground, Main Line Rail, Our Government, Road Transport | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Thomas Cook & Son – part of British Transport

Thomas Cook first showed enterprise in the travel business in 1841. Since the company’s recent demise, quite a few bits and pieces have appeared in print concerning its long history. These have omitted a certain amount of detail that I thought interesting and think some of my readers might too. I won’t repeat the early historical stuff which is reasonably well documented already.

The company was essentially family-owned until 1928, when Frank and Ernest Cook, the two surviving grandsons of Thomas Cook, retired. At that time the headquarters was in Berkeley Street, having moved there from Ludgate Circus in 1926. They sold the business to the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits et des Grands Express Européens. Although Thomas Cook had been under English control, its substantial worldwide interests made the (Belgian) Wagon-Lits company a logical home (at that time it ran many international services).

At the start of the Second World War Belgium was overrun by the invading German army who took control of the transport system. As a consequence the assets of Thomas Cook were seized by the Custodian of Enemy Property in England. There were three Custodians, one each for England, Scotland and Northern Ireland and these were set up on the eve of the 1939 war under the Trading With The Enemy Act, 1939. The custodians were to act as trustees of property and businesses in the UK that were actually owned by the businesses and individuals of enemy countries. The intention was not to confiscate the assets, but to hold them in trust until matters could be resolved at the end of the war, perhaps in the form of compensation. This process was carried out during the Great War, though not very well, and promises were given that a better job would be done this time around.

Thomas Cook was owned by the Belgians but was under German control. However the British business, though much circumscribed by wartime conditions, was capable of trading on its own account and it was desired the British side of the firm carry on regardless in Britain and accessible parts of the Empire. It was felt that this could not be satisfactorily arranged whilst in the hands of the Custodian. It would seem that there was a degree of government encouragement of the four main line railway companies to take over the Cook’s business which needed direction from those who understood its business. It took many months of discussion to resolve this but during 1942 a deal had been agreed, subject to the the railways jointly obtaining the necessary statutory powers. The four companies were sold 25 per cent of the equity in Thomas Cook and its subsidiaries for £1 each; the mechanism was that ownership of Thomas Cook was vested in Hays Wharf Cartage Co, a cartage company that was owned in equal shares by the big four railways. The finances of Cook during this very difficult period were slightly precarious and Hays Wharf agreed to make certain financial guarantees to Thomas Cook, and in turn each railway company had to back the guarantee, which caused a little disquiet amongst shareholders and required another Act to be passed. The railway companies did think there was a long term future for Thomas Cook after the war and pledged to keep the existing experienced management in place. The takeover involved only the tourist business and not the banking subsidiary, although the tourist business did operate a substantial traveller’s cheque operation.

In fact Thomas Cook’s logistical skills became a useful contribution to the war effort. A job that arose quickly was repatriation of large number of British tourists and businessmen stranded abroad when the countries they were in were unexpectedly occupied; they also arranged for foreign tourists to be quickly sent back home before transport became impossible. Early in the war Thomas Cook & Son was given responsibility for conveyance of private mail between the UK and occupied territories on the continent, the Post Office being prohibited from doing so directly under wartime conditions. The Lisbon office (Portugal was neutral) assisted the movement to the States and elsewhere of jews who had escaped from occupied Europe. Other offices may have done something similar and this is a part of the company’s history that might be better known.

At the end of the war, the main line companies compensated Wagon-Lits out of the resources of Thomas Cook and agreed to give back to Wagon-Lits 25 per cent of the overseas activities of Thomas Cook (but not of the UK business). This arrangement pertained on the evening prior to the nationalization of the railways on 1st January 1948 and explains how it was that Thomas Cook & Son became part of a nationalized industry. Readers may already know that the railways and all the odds and ends that came with them (which were substantial) became part of the unwieldy British Transport Commission (BTC).

As it happens, Thomas Cook was not the only travel agency finding its way into the BTC. Dean & Dawson was another company owned by the railways, this time wholly-owned by the LNER. Then there was British Holding Estates (BHE); this was 50 per cent owned by Thomas Cook and 50 per cent by the LMS. BHE had hoped to build a chain of holiday camps throughout the country but the war intervened and only one, at Prestatyn, was established. Thomas Cook also had a freight subsidiary, England and Parrotts Limited, which also meandered its way into the BTC.

From 1948, Thomas Cook became a wholly-controlled subsidiary of the BTC ‘not engaged in the principal activities of the Commission’. This meant it operated as far as possible as a stand-alone company controlled by its directors but with (most) shares owned by the BTC. For many years all branches of Thomas Cook in the UK, and many abroad, had stocked main line railway tickets and sold them as agents of BR by the million. We must remember that before the electronic age, and when travel within the UK by rail was pretty much the only way for people to get about, it was perfectly normal to buy one’s ticket in advance from a travel agent. My family did this all the time as it provided certainty of getting the ticket without the faff of going to a station and having to queue. The tickets cost the same as buying them at the station (the agencies got a commission and the opportunity to present you with holiday brochures at the same time). Thomas Cook remained profitable during its time with the BTC.

At the end of 1962 the BTC was abolished and the activities distributed amongst a number of successor boards. Those activities that did not conveniently sit amongst these successors were transferred to the Transport Holding Company: Thomas Cook was one of them. The THC was organized into divisions and most of its activities related to freight haulage by road or the operation of bus companies. In either case the holding company owned some or all the shares but the individual companies (of which there were well over a hundred) were stand-alone companies expected to produce a net profit. By comparison with the vast number of transport businesses, the Travel and Tourism division, substantially Thomas Cook, looked a bit thin, though in 1968 it was joined by Lunn-Poly a ‘reliable’ tour operator (my parents used it) which I doubt anyone knew was government-owned.

However, restless government activity resulted in the bus interests being shifted into the new National Bus Company, and the freight interests into the new National Freight Corporation, both with effect from 1st January 1969. An attempt was made to get rid of Thomas Cook during this process, but the move failed. This left an exceedingly lean Transport Holding Company with Thomas Cook and a small number of other diverse interests, mainly shipping. This arrangement could clearly not be left indefinitely and the remnants were disposed of with the holding company wound up in 1973. During the 1968 debates it was suggested that Thomas Cook was perhaps suffering because of the rapid overseas holiday competition that was developing and that government ownership was something of a constraint to responding adequately to this. In hindsight it is at least likely that whether or not it was a constraint, government ownership was of no assistance.

Thomas Cook was actually sold only in 1972, to a consortium of Britain’s Midland Bank, Trust House Forte and the Automobile Association, as random a collection of owners as one could find. Perhaps more focus was given after Midland Bank became sole owner in 1977. Midland (‘the listening bank’) had its own problems and sold Thomas Cook in 1992.

Some more about the history of the company can be found HERE, with some rather nice illustrations.

There is also some information about the Prestatyn Holiday Camp HERE.

I should add that there is great concern about the records of Thomas Cook which, before its bankruptcy, maintained its own record office available for research. You can see from what I have hinted at about its wartime activities that there is still a great story to be told. It would be very regrettable if the records should leave the UK or cease permanently to be available to the British public. Those interested in such things should keep eyes and ears open about the future of these records.


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The Excitement of Luminous Trains

In the fascinating world of railways there has never been a shortage of ideas. Many come from outside the industry and some of them even have practical applications, for which I am sure we are immensely grateful. Most, though, are not really very well thought through. One of these ideas involved lighting, and my excitement was heightened when I discovered a link with a possible ancestor of mine (and possibly two of them). The idea involved free lighting. Who would turn that away?

It came to pass that one day, early in 1880, the Metropolitan Railway was induced to take an interest in the idea of free lighting. The Metropolitan Railway, being an underground railway was perhaps more interested in lighting than many other railways at that time and I would describe its attitude as mildly curious rather than hugely enthusiastic. Nevertheless, if the idea worked, it might show promise.

The idea was demonstrated in a First Class Great Western Railway carriage that ran on the through service between the home counties and Aldgate. The interior of the carriage was painted in Professor Balmain’s luminous paint; this comprised a mixture of Calcium Sulphide and a particular kind of varnish and on casual inspection looked similar to the white or cream paint normally used. However, during its passage in the open air during daylight hours, the mixture absorbed a certain amount of light energy and became phosphorescent. When the carriage entered the underground railway tunnel sections east of Paddington, its interior surfaces glowed. Reports at the time acknowledge that when it went into the tunnel, the illumination was barely perceptible but as passengers’ eyes got used to the gloom the phosphorescence appeared to become brighter and endured sufficiently long to last to the terminus (topped up by daylight in the open sections). After a while, in the gloom, it became just possible to make out other passengers in the compartment.

The circumstances around all this are obscure. Balmain died in 1877 at the age of 60 and the press at the time explained he had left the ‘secret’ of the paint to his assistant, whose name was A.J. Horne. Horne carried on working on the formula and was able to improve the recipe further. It emerged that Calcium Sulphide on its own is an imperfect phosphor and needs traces of certain other elements to achieve maximum luminosity (these being selected from Manganese, Copper or Bismuth). He established from tests that blue and violet light readily generated a white output from the paint. On the other hand red and yellow had little effect but tended to diminish output. Horne apparently succeeded in making these alterations to the formula and is found a few years later manufacturing the paint from an establishment in Bromley Road, Catford.

I have not established the detail, but it seems that A.J. Horne involved the partnership of Ihlee & Horne, of 31 Aldermanbury, in attempting to raise the profile of the paint and create a market for it. There is evidence of some success here. However the Horne involved in the partnership was a Mr William Cullen Horne (who is described as a merchant). It seems very unlikely this was a coincidence and I suppose he was a relative of A.J. Horne. The man called Ihlee was an engineer, a German who came to the UK as he didn’t like what Bismark was doing creating the nation of Germany from the previously independent states. Their loss, for he was a very good engineer. Anyway, this partnership attempted to ‘work’ the patent and part of this involved holding exhibitions and demonstrations of what the paint could do. The partnership carried out a number of roadshows around the country and sought to gain railway interest.

Ihlee & Horne saw tremendous advantages in using the paint when light was only needed for short periods; they acknowledged that the paint would hardly displace the use of all oil or gas lighting inside railway carriages, but might be useful in short tunnels (though it wouldn’t if there was no time for the eyes to adjust). It was alleged at the time of the Great Western/Metropolitan experiment that the Great Northern Railway had also volunteered to provide a carriage for demonstrating the luminous paint. I have also found later reports that the Midland entertained the idea, and the Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway, which apparently thought it had more advantage for longer tunnels.

The partnership of Ihlee & Horne was dissolved in 1884; Ihlee found another business partner and I note that many years later W.C. Horne filed a patent for a fly trap involving a phosphorescent compound, this time involving radium, which, being radioactive, kept the phosphor alight, so to speak, even when not exposed to light. The Balmain phosphor was not radioactive.

Although I do not at the moment know if luminous paint was the subject of any more trials, I can say with a degree of certainty that it was not adopted by any railway company as a means of lighting. One can perfectly well imagine why such a system would not be thought satisfactory for general lighting, and the quest anyway was for much brighter lights, achieved within a few years by electricity supplied by dynamos and batteries. Even so, it is worth pausing for a moment why it might not have been pursued as a means of emergency lighting if the paint production cost was satisfactory (originally a premium was charged [it cost £1 8s per pound weight] but the constituents were so cheap that it could have been sold at virtually the same price as ordinary paint).

As far as I know we hear no more of luminous paint for railway carriages, though it was thought useful for a number of other purposes. For an underground railway one might even have thought it went into the ‘just do it’ category, but it did not.

I now need to find out more about these Hornes and whether they are anything to do with me!

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Prisons and the Metropolitan Railway

Whitecross Street Prison

My attention was recently drawn to the plaque in the accompanying photograph. Cunningly designed in the style of official commemorative blue plaques, I noted the building so commemorated before realizing the plaque was not official and that the building referred to would (to my mind) have been in an odd place between the dates referred to. Enquiries suggested this was one of four plaques erected in June 2010 in connection with a street party in Whitecross Street (an interesting and historic old street with a strong sense of local community and still boasting an active street market). You can look up Hedonist London for yourself if you like!

plaque-whitecross debtors

Having been alerted to the existence of Whitecross Street prison, I quickly discovered it was actually located near the south end of that road, unsurprisingly within the City of London walls, in the area known as Cripplegate. That area was flattened during WW2 and the corresponding section of Whitecross Street expunged, a short section surviving as part of Silk Street. I can best indicate the site of the prison as the place which is today the Barbican Centre.


Whitecross Street Prison may be found on this map of London in the centre. St Giles Church is perhaps the  most recognizable of the very few buildings from this time still standing (and this is reconstructed from a wartime ruin), This is from Wyld’s map of London produced during the 1790s.

My interest in the prison was much excited by its association with the Metropolitan Railway. The prison did not actually have a long life. It was designed William Montague, Clerk of the City Works. Alderman Matthew Wood laid the first stone in July 1813 and the building was completed in 1815, intended to be purely a debtors prison. It was designed to hold 500 people in six entirely independent wards, one set apart for females and another for freemen of the City. Those liable to be imprisoned included quite a large number who owed as little as a shilling who could be committed for up to twenty days. This alone was thought to account for 2000 prisoners a year. Curious to say, prisoners were fed at the cost of philanthropists who were allowed to display boards outside, an early kind of sponsorship, perhaps. The defective logic behind imprisoning decent people so they could not attend to their business, making the debt problem worse, was not addressed until 1869 when the Debtors Act put a stop to this kind of treatment for trivial sums and the prison soon closed (the remaining inmates being transferred to Holloway).


Whitecross Street Prison

The Metropolitan Railway was extended from Farringdon to Moorgate in December 1865, the line taking a slightly indirect route to skirt round the north wall of the prison. However, during 1864 it appears that the Metropolitan had second thoughts about whether their station at Moorgate would be large enough to accommodate the trains not only of its own railway but those of the Great Western, the Great Northern, the Midland, the London, Chatham and Dover and, according to The Railway News, the London & South Western Railway (presumably from the Richmond direction unless it was a mistake and London & North Western was meant). To that end, it was proposed to purchase extra land to the south of its authorized line between Aldersgate and Moorgate, including the whole of Whitecross Street prison, powers being obtained in the Metropolitan Railway Act 1865. The Railway News claimed this was because the Metropolitan wished to extend the terminal station facilities, though exactly what kind of terminal was in mind we do not know. The prison could only be purchased by consent, and then with 18 months’ notice to quit, while the existing line was in an advanced state already. In fact the station opened with seven platform roads and with no requirement to serve LSWR/LNWR trains and this appears to have been quite adequate. Notice to acquire the prison site at that time was not therefore given and the huge expense to the company that it would have entailed (which included enlarging Holloway prison as a substitute) was avoided.

The 1869 Debtors Act, already mentioned, resulted in the number of prisoners at Whitecross Street being reduced to about thirty, and in 1870 the prison closed its doors (28 prisoners, including 2 women, were taken to Holloway at the beginning of August but allowed the same privileges as they had enjoyed previously). The Home Secretary designated Holloway Prison as the future home of debtors and on 11 October 1870 ordered that Whitecross Street prison be pulled down and the materials comprised in the old prison be sold.

The Metropolitan Railway arranged to acquire the prison site, no doubt relieved that the requirement to pay for Holloway to be enlarged no longer applied. The Metropolitan therefore found itself in possession of a large area of land bound on the north by their railway, on the east and west by Whitecross and Redcross Streets and on the south by a school and some other buildings fronting Fore Street. Whether the land was bought speculatively I have not determined, but with extension to Bishopsgate and Aldgate in hand and (apparently) sufficient space available at Moorgate it is hard to see any need for the space for passenger traffic. Possible use for goods is more likely.

This rather awkward site soon attracted the attention of the Midland Railway which was keen to have a goods depot with the City and arrangements were made to lease the site from the Met, powers being authorized to provide a connecting line into the depot in the Midland Railway Act 1873. The depot opened in 1874. The cost of erecting the vast new buildings were a £120,000. The works were not completed until 1877 and opened 1st Jan 1878. The Midland had to pay the Met a minimum rental of £2500 a year from 1874. The goods station was entirely under cover and comprised a vast red brick and stone building covering an area of 2000 square yards and having a floor area of 4300 square yards. The main building was 250ft long by 50ft wide and its six floors (including basement) rose 70ft above the street. The Midland Railway’s history offers a further description, as follows:

Thirty-six iron columns, placed in two rows, support the floors, each of these columns being practically continuous from the basement to the tie-beams of the roof; all the floors are fireproof. Hoists are provided, which enable goods to be transferred to any of the floors, and railway wagons, with their load complete, can be raised from the level of the Metropolitan Railway to the first floor. Adjoining the principal warehouse is a large area of ground, covered by six bays of roofing. The roofs are of iron, supported upon columns and girders, and receive light through broad belts of glazing. This great space is for the sheltering of the carts and vans during the times of loading and unloading goods.

A technical description in 1890s explains that there were nine hydraulic platform cranes of which two could lift 50 hundredweight (cwt), five 25cwt and two 20cwt. The two wagon hoists could lift 20 tons each (more than a very well loaded wagon). There were two cage hoists that could lift 20cwt and two jigger hoists that could each raise 30cwt. Fifteen hydraulic capstans could haul a ton each. Five traversers were provided, three worked by the capstans and two by direct hydraulic power. The hydaulic power was stored in two 20ft stroke accumulators and distributed by 6-inch main. The power was created by a pair of steam driven hydraulic pumps and the steam pressure of 100lbs per square inch was created by three boilers. Later descriptions indicate that some of the capstans were installed or converted to electric operation.

A connection with the Metropolitan was made just east of Aldersgate Street station and sorting sidings were installed at basement level with goods shifted mechanically to higher levels. Road access allowed goods to be delivered or collected by road and there was considerable storage space.


This shows the basement plan of Whitecross Street depot, Metropolitan line at bottom. Wagons were moved around  by capstans, traversers and turntables. A pair of wagon lifts connected with ground floor level. North is towards bottom on this diagram, Whitecross Street to left and Redcross Street to right.


From a map of 1895 the arrangement of the interior of the depot mat be seen at street level. Bear in mind this has north at the top when comparing with basement level plan above where north is at bottom. Wagons were brought to and from street level by hoists and moved by capstans and traversers to a convenient point to exchange goods with road vehicles. There appear to be three road entrances from Redcross Street on left. he main warehousing is on right with separate entrance from Whitecross Street.

Within the depot trains were brought into one of the two reception roads and wagons were detached from the middle and moved around individually using turntables and electric or hydraulic capstans and ropes. Lifts were used to take wagons to the upper level for goods trans-shipment. The area on the Whitecross Street side looks as though it was used for warehousing traffic with a separate loading area.


Whitecross Street depot (Redcross Street entrance at west end of depot) in 1929.

Although traffic through the depot dropped over the years, during the early 1930s it was still dealing with about 6000 tons a week. However, there were moves to concentrate the transfer of goods between road and rail to a smaller number of large depots and Whitecross Street lost its direct rail connection from 1st March 1936. It remained open for storage and the collection and delivery of goods and parcels by road vehicle. It was soon being described as a parcels depot. Unfortunately part of the depot was destroyed by bombing on the night of 29th December 1940 during the blitz. The depot was hit and seriously damaged, in the stables 99 stalls were destroyed by fire but fortunately loyal staff managed to extract the horses safely. It looks as though part of the premises was repaired as a 1953 telephone directory still lists the building as a parcels depot, though maps suggest the entrance in use was the one at the other end of the building in Redcross Street. However the naughty Great Northern Railway had many years previously also opened a goods and parcels depot on the East side of Whitecross street (opposite the Midland depot) and by 1938 is found sharing the old GNR building with the LNER instead of maintaining its own office accommodation. This might sound odd as the mantra is that these railways were in competition. They were not. All parcels, much freight and all the Anglo Scottish passenger traffic was pooled and both companies cooperated in order to save costs. Clearly the LMS depot was maintained in the other side of the road until the war ot we would not know about a damage report, but which of these two premises is being referred to in 1953 I cannot at the moment say.


Whitecross Street entrance to the goods depot (looking south, depot on right), after the 1940 bombing raid. Although badly damaged much of the structure remained standing and was not in fact demolished until Barbican site clearance began in 1960.

Whitecross Street Jn

This wartime view, looking east, is taken from the Jacob’s Well Passage (footpath) bridge towards the tunnels lying either side of Redcross Street shortly after heavy bombing. This is the site of the junction connecting the Widened Lines (centre tracks with trucks of rubble) and the Whitecross Street goods branch, which passed through arch on the right. Track is still visible along the branch although trains had already ceased to served the depot.


The City of London Collage collection includes a 1942 picture looking towards the west, showing the goods depot building, surviving amongst the devastation. It is the large building, upper centre, with Whitecross Street in front. Just visible is the Metropolitan Line snaking round its right hand side (bridges can just be made out). Nearest left-right road is Moor Lane, and the Metropolitan Railway (Moorgate) substation is visible beyond, next to railway. St Giles Cripplegate church visible at top left.  [Collage Collage Record No  36618, Catalogue No  M0020324CL]

The old Whitecross Street land remained at least partly derelict until absorbed by the Barbican development in the 1950s/60s. During this work the kink in the route between Moorgate and Aldersgate was removed when the Circle Line and Widened Lines were rerouted a little to the south, passing right through the centre of what had been the goods depot (and under the Barbican Centre).


This 1946 view looking south-east shows Moorgate station towards top left with Aldersgate (now Barbican) just out of shot bottom right. The connecting Metropolitan Line is visible. The wartime devastation is very obvious. In the centre, just above the railway, may be seen Whitecross Street goods depot, damaged during 1940 bombing (roof damage can just be made out and looks as though there was not much attempt at repair). Whitecross Street is the road at east (left) side of depot and Redcross Street runs along west (right hand) side.


This view looks west from Moorgate station and as diesel locomotives are in operation but there is no sign of ‘A’ stock, I estimate the image to be 1961. Little work has yet taken place on the Barbican development and, although the building behind the Whitecross Street frontage may partly have gone, the characteristic sheds at the rear (top left corner) appear intact and may well still be in use.


This view from a crane west of Moorgate station early 1964 shows work having just started laying out the new route to the left of the existing one, looking towards Aldersgate. Near the top left may be seen a lone surviving stone arch next to what had been Whitecross Street. I think this is the base of the tower at the southern end of the former goods depot, the rest having disappeared to make way for the excavation for the new line.


This 1965 view from a tower Crane next to Moorgate station looks west from smae position as previous photo but in following year later. The old Metropolitan route to Aldersgate (now Barbican) is visible to the right of the train with the former bridges at Milton Street, Whitecross Street and Redcross Street, in sequence from camera. The new route lies in the concrete box from which train is emerging. The box passes through the centre of the old goods depot site, to the left of the old Whitecross and Redcross Street bridges.


This 1964 view looks east from the Aldersgate (now Barbican) station end with Circle Line on left and Widened Lines on right.. In foreground is remnant of Jacobs Well Passage and beyond this is the partially demolished Redcross Street bridge. There had been a third arch under Redcross Street, to right of these tracks, which was the rail access tunnel to the goods depot beyond the bridge (see earlier image); the actual junction was in the foreground at Jacobs Well bridge.  Work has just begun setting out the diversionary route which passes through the old goods yard site.

You will appreciate that the old prison was about 400 yards from the rogue plaque and it made me wonder why the mighty City of London has not itself erected a plaque to the prison on its Silk Street flank wall. However, I believe there had been a plaque to the prison on the wall of the goods depot. It would be good if any photographs of this have survived.


Whitecross Street Goods Depot site today. This image was taken looking south along what had been Whitecross Street. The original path of the Metropolitan and Circle line passes left to right roughly where the main entrance is seen. The goods depot was immediately beyond, if you can imagine the road continuing south rather than turning away. The location is therefore slightly to the north of the wartime image above, but as close as I could get.

Middlesex House of Correction

The Metropolitan Railway had already had a brush with the prison business when its original line was being designed. The route devised in 1853 was a little to the west of its eventual alignment and was to run in a long tunnel beneath the high ground south of Kings Cross, which took the route directly beneath the Cold Bath Fields prison (then called the Middlesex House of Correction) and Cold Bath Square. Since the line was in tunnel it is not apparent why it was felt essential to use this route and no other, but this was likely to prove very expensive. The Act noted that under general legislation the railway would have to purchase the whole of the lands of the Cold Bath House of Correction and detailed conditions were laid down about how this was to be done. Amongst other things, the Metropolitan was to obtain and deliver to the Middlesex quarter sessions fifty acres of freehold land within Middlesex, located between six and nine miles from the general post office, which was suitable for a prison and which was within half a mile by road of a railway station. The site having been approved, the railway would then have to build at its own expense a new prison upon it, suitable for 1500 inmates as well as the necessary staff, and including all fittings and a secure boundary wall. The Act then set out what was required, including that every prisoner would have their own cell and all details were subject to approval of the prison authorities. With the best will in the world, this was going to be extremely expensive.


Aerial interpretation of the Cold Bath Fields prison site. This is shown not for the detail (which can easily be looked up) but to show the scale of what the Metropolitan Railway would have had to replace.

What was more, the railway could not enter upon any of the lands of the existing prison until the new one was built. Nor could they exercise its borrowing powers, except for constructing the prison and buying the land for its construction, until the prison was finished. The Act also required the company to build a station in the vicinity of the old prison and provide free travel over their entire system for prisoners and their keepers going to or from the new prison for whatever purpose, if necessary in reserved carriages. This sound particularly onerous in view of what we know about the railway’s later development, but at the time in discussion (1853-4) the Metropolitan was only planned to go between the City and Paddington and any prison would probably have had to have been some distance from it and huge abstraction of traffic was correspondingly unlikely.

Why the Metropolitan acceded to all this in the Act I have not gone into, but when the significance of the obligations had sunk in, moves were made to get rid of these onerous and expensive requirements. Discussions at first centred on whether the prison authorities would simply allow the Met to obtain a wayleave to tunnel under the prison but the authorities were unshakeable that this was not going to happen. I suppose one can understand why the authorities were actually quite reluctant to allow large scale tunnelling beneath a live prison; there might have been some interesting branch tunnels.


This is from the deposited plans and shows the prison area and the centre line of the Metropolitan running directly underneath the cell block. Kings Cross to left, Farringdon to right.

In due course, the railway concluded that it really did not want to engage in prison building and that the only solution was to alter the route. A further Act of 1855 authorized the route to be diverted to the north, running under Bagnigge Wells (now Farringdon) Road, just outside the gates of the prison, and avoiding the need for its purchase (and thereby avoiding the need to enter the prison-building business).

I can add that the prison opened for business in 1794 and took its name after the cold bath spring, a medicinal (chalybeate) spring discovered in 1697 and available for a while from a small building in Cold Bath Square. After early abuses, the prison eventually adopted the silent association system where talking was forbidden between prisoners. There were some less pleasant innovations, such as the treadmill. Being found increasingly out of date after the government took over prisons, it closed in 1885 and the land was transferred to the Post Office in 1889 and gradually rebuilt (the last of the old sections was rebuilt only in 1929). After a variety of postal uses it became the Mount Pleasant sorting office, about as inappropriate name as one could find for the present dreary buildings (and adjacent bombsite). In fairness post-privatization Royal Mail has seriously attempted to make these unpromising buildings more attractive and I think I must concede a measure of success.


View of Mount Pleasant post office building from south east corner, Farringdon Road on right. The building follows the site boundary of the former prison. It had been intended the Metropolitan would have passed under this site in tunnel about half way along the frontage visible here.

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McFarlan Moore Lighting and the Central London Railway

The name Daniel McFarlan Moore may not be familiar to many people, a shortcoming I shall try to redress. He was a distinguished American electrical engineer and inventor who died in 1936; the circumstances were very unfortunate because he was shot dead at his home in New Jersey by an out of work rival inventor. It appears the rival had expected commercial success from some new development and was annoyed to discover Moore had already patented it. The murderer, Jean Philip Gebhardt, later committed suicide.

Moore is probably best known for his 1917 invention of the later-ubiquitous neon indicator lamp. Although, now, less common than they used to be, neon indicators were once to be found in nearly all household and commercial electrical equipment to indicate presence of a high voltage, such as connection to a mains power supply. They had the advantage of glowing quite brightly while generating minimal heat and having a very long life. The invention was not specific to the one gas and although neon (which glowed orange/red) was perhaps the most common, variants using other gases glowed a different colour, such as argon which glowed blue. The lamps usually comprised two electrodes in a small glass capsule and the presence of a high voltage between the two caused a coronal (light emitting) discharge around the negative electrode; alternating current produced a discharge around both electrodes during the corresponding negative cycles. The same effect was produced in other later applications of the invention, such as the ‘nixie’ tube where a glass bulb (like an old radio valve) contained a wire cage which formed a single positive electrode within which were ten negative electrodes comprising thin wire shapes in the form of the numbers 0-9, stacked one behind the other. When a negative charge was applied to any one of these shapes the corresponding figure would illuminate brightly, enabling the tubes to be used as numerical read out devices. If you would like to see a lot of different types of counting tube that were developed from the humble neon indicator, you can do so by clicking HERE.

Prior to the invention of the neon lamp, Moore had been experimenting with the production of light by means of a gas discharge through a glass tube. The object was to produce a high quality light that could provide even illumination at low cost. He was able to demonstrate the possibilities as early as 1894, but it was not until 1904 that a commercially viable solution was achieved. It is necessary to recall that his research started at a time before the tungsten filament lamp had become a practical means of illumination (from 1911) and until then the choice was between arc lamps and early incandescent lamps that were fragile, not very bright and not entirely reliable. The arc lamp suffered from the disadvantage (among several) that it gave out an extremely intensive light that was too bright when close; they were quite unsuited to use in relatively small spaces and their point sources created deep shadows. Moore attempted to produce a lamp that created adequate light evenly over a large area, without shadow and with high reliability. Moore had previously worked with Edison and did not think much of Edison’s incandescent lamps, telling the great inventor they were too small, too hot and too red, before departing and setting himself upon the task of making an efficient lighting system.

The Moore lighting system consisting of a single, continuous glass tube of at least 1¾ inches in diameter that was sealed at both ends. The tube was typically between 200 and 300 feet long and was filled by a suitable gas at low pressure (a thousandth of an atmosphere is indicated in scientific paper describing the arrangement). At the ends of the tube, carbon electrodes were arranged and a very high voltage was applied between the electrodes, a minimum of 5000 volts being required. Some of the later reports describe the use of a 3-phase supply (to avoid the discernible flicker that a single phase produced) but I have as yet been unable to establish how such a supply would be wired up or below what frequency it was desirable. The high voltage caused the low-pressure gas to become excited and the excess energy was released as light, causing the gas inside the tube to glow. If air were used the gas glowed a rosy red, if pure nitrogen were used the colour was pinkish-red and if filled with carbon dioxide it glowed white (almost equivalent to daylight). The efficiency of Moore’s lighting was reckoned at about 70 per cent, depending on how it was measured. Edison’s throw-away incandescent lamps were lucky to achieve two or three per cent.

Unfortunately, it was found in practice that the ongoing electrical discharge slightly increased the intensity of vacuum in the tube, tending to reduce lamp efficiency. To counter this, an ingenious form of regulator was devised which measured the circuit resistance; if this altered as a result of unduly low pressure the regulator allowed a minute quantity of gas to enter via a porous plug to correct the deficiency. If the tube was filled with air, this was straightforward, but if with pure nitrogen or carbon dioxide a certain amount of chemical apparatus was required to create a small reserve of the preferred gas.

During the period when the Central London Railway was being extended to Liverpool Street (opened in 1912) the company sought to provide better lighting than on its original system, and particularly sought to avoid arc lights, which the company was trying to remove. A challenging problem arose along the three inclined escalator and stair shafts in the connection with the Great Eastern Railway, the station being provided with escalators from the beginning and the company not having had to contend with lighting an inclined shaft previously. Discussion with Moore suggested installation of one of his tubular lights would fit the bill. The resulting tube was 274ft 8ins long, and as we know each shaft was about 90ft length, this suggests a single tube would wend its way along all three shafts in one continuous length (such a labyrinthine arrangement of Moore’s tubes was not unusual). The main practical problem was the welding together and bending of the various short tubes to make a continuous tube, requiring glass-welding skills. The electro-motive force required across the electrodes for this particular installation was about 17,500 volts, created by a transformer. The output was stated to be 55 candle-power per yard and at 1.3 to 1.7 watts per candle this would rate the equipment at roughly 82 watts per yard, or a little over 7.4 kW for the entire installation, probably a little more than would have been the case with incandescent lamps.

Light and lighting.

This shows the lower landing at Liverpool Street. The Moore’s tubes are visible arriving at the lower level down the three shafts and (just visible) the tubes can be seen connecting the various shafts together at high level and contributing slightly to the illumination of the concourse.

It may be seen that the design was complicated by the need to include the regulator mechanism and in later installations it was found possible to fix the electrodes to the outside of the glass and this made the internal pressure stable, avoid the need for the complicated regulator altogether. Even so, the advances being made with cheap and easy-to-install incandescent lamps reduced the commercial attractiveness of Moore lighting except for specialist installations, which is why few people have heard of him. Moreover, Moore lighting did not have an indefinite life and was difficult and expensive to replace.


This shows the upper landing and one of the two escalator shafts. The Moore’s tube may be seen running centrally down the shaft. In addition (and fed from the adjacent conduit) may be seen several Siemens bulkhead lamps provided in addition either as standbys or having been fitted before the experimental system and left as a backup.

Contemporary lighting magazines stress that one of Moore’s objectives was to produce a lighting system that contributed to the architectural effect as well as providing high quality light. It appears its main customer had been department stores around New York and we know the first installation was in 1904 at a hardware store in Newark (New Jersey). The largest installation was in the US post office in New York, involving seven 200ft tubes. In England, before the Liverpool Street installation, there had been another in London in the forecourt of the Savoy hotel, installed within the glass porch in 1907. This installation involved a nitrogen-filled tube of 176ft total length and the soft light it produced introduced no shadows and no glare. A problem arose as the local electricity supply was direct current and a small motor generator had to be installed to produce the alternating current required. A further installation at about the same time was made at Salisbury House involving an 85ft tube filled with carbon dioxide. However, it is doubtful that any new installations of ordinary lighting were made after the Great War as other technologies were now found more suitable.

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This shows the front of the Savoy Hotel from Savoy Court with the porch roof above the vehicle turning circle. The Moore’s tubular lighting may be seen suspended below the roof in the form of a rectangle.

Moore’s efforts were by no means in vain. In 1912 he sold his patents to General Electric and they later became a component in the work done in developing the fluorescent tube during the 1930s. This differed from the Moore tube in introducing mercury in addition to the ionizing gas such that the emitted light was in the invisible ultra-violet region and used to excite a phosphor on the inside of the tube; it was the glowing phosphor that created the light output. London Transport tested fluorescent tubes in 1944 at Piccadilly Circus and it is fitting that they were first used on a large scale on the 1946-49 Central Line extensions that began at Liverpool Street.

I have not yet found when the Moore installation at Liverpool Street was removed, and would be interested if more information comes to light.

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Automatic Trains on the Hammersmith & City Line (at last)

New Signalling as part of the sub-surface lines modernization (updated)

On Monday 28 March, I spent a little while at the western end of London’s Hammersmith & City Line watching the new automatic trains doing their business: this was the first day the system was actually in passenger service. Travel west of Latimer Road (the present boundary of the first stage of automatic operation) was noticeably different from performance further east, in particular the trains accelerated more quickly. Coming into Hammersmith was interesting. There is only a 3 metre or so space between the approved stopping point and the buffer (behind which is the concrete mass of the station concourse) and special measures have been taken to make sure there is no possibility of a train not following the stopping profile or unexpectedly powering up.

AutoTrn-DSC05776This is the first stage of the resignalling programme for the whole of the sub-surface network. You will recall the various contractual failures that have much-delayed the new signalling; this has hopelessly disrupted the expectations set at the start of the century that we would have had the improved train services across the whole of the sub-surface lines by now. Although we still have not had most of these improvements, nor will we see most of them for a couple of years or so, the apparently successful introduction of new signalling and automatic operation is at least an encouraging sign it is on its way.

However, even the present signalling contract has hit snags and this modest section of automation (Hammersmith to Latimer Road) should have been in service last summer. After some problems were identified during trials, the decision was made to hold off until all worked perfectly. I dare say this was prudent. In any case it was rather the point of doing this small section in advance. I am led to understand that many of the challenges were software related; this seems to be the way of things at the moment in the railway (and apparently the airline) industry.

Assuming this section now performs OK, it is hoped to make up lost time elsewhere as equipment installation has been carrying on in the meantime. I believe the plan is to introduce the rest of the west end of the H&C and the whole of the north side of the circle (and Met to Finchley Road) in one go when the existing section has proved itself. I’m looking forward to seeing how well Baker Street and Edgware Road cope with this.

Some observed benefits

One of the more visible changes, and a useful one at that, is the display of the train ready-to-start signal in the form of white indicator lamps on the train exterior. Regulars will probably work out quite quickly that this means the doors are likely to close very soon and for those in the know it is easier to spot the bright white lights than the old starting signals (all the old signals have been taken out of use).

At Hammersmith, I was surprised to hear the happy sound of the quick-acting air-operated points that have been retained for the time being, and I hope the new electric point machines that will doubtless turn up in due course are not too much slower.  I understand the old (1951) signal box closed on Friday evening (25th) after traffic, leaving only four lever-operated signal boxes left on the system, at Edgware Road, Whitechapel, Harrow and Rickmansworth.

Coming back into town during the evening peak I was reminded how heavily used this line is, especially east of Paddington. Also observable is the enormous amount of development along the line which will at some point be further adding to train loadings. At Edgware Road passengers waiting near the front already had difficulty getting on. The present 5-minute train service really does struggle to handle the demand east of Paddington. As the new signalling is introduced, and as I understand the train service proposals to be, intervals will be improved to 4-minute intervals, and finally 3¾-minute intervals. This is obviously better than now and I look forward to it. Of course the arrival of Crossrail ought to ease the loadings at Paddington H&C, when it finally arrives, which I suppose might be next year (or the year after).

But is performance any better?

Returning to the new automatic section at the Hammersmith end, I think it is worth asking what success looks like. From a strictly technical point of view I have no doubt ‘success’ will be suggested by very high reliability, nothing untoward being discovered, and perhaps train performance falling broadly within expected parameters. It is this last area that interests me. As a railway operator I am less interested in the technical wizardry than the outputs that are required to run the service. For example, can the service match the traffic presenting itself to appropriate levels of performance and reliability? By performance, I mean that bit of magic that minimizes journey time by maximizing train performance and eradicating unwanted and unexpected delays. We have been promised much during the endless process of getting modern signalling, but during the six visits I have now made to this fully-automated section I have been left wondering what has changed.

In a nutshell, I have measured wheel start to wheel stop times between stations and find that on the automated section the start-stop timings are virtually unchanged from pre-automatic days, and to the extent there is any difference, timings are now a tad longer. As one who is used to the brisk performance on the Victoria Line this is slightly disappointing.  Analysis of the run times suggests that top speeds are unchanged, acceleration rates have improved so that top speed is reached ten seconds faster than hitherto, but braking rates have much reduced, increasing braking time by about ten seconds. The slightly longer run at top speed gives some advantage in automatic, and although the net result would be a slightly quicker overall run we find that the automatic system introduces an extra delay before the operator can open the doors. I measured the average door open delay as 3.5 seconds on an automatic train compared with no more than 1 second in manual driving. This converted a slight overall speed improvement into a slightly slower run instead. (By door open delay, I mean the interval between wheels stopping and the doors beginning to open.)

The braking I found rather odd. Apart from its lack of vigour, the trains slow down to about 1 mph while the equipment appeared to be seeking the exact inch within which the train had to stop, which it then did abruptly. This, typically, added a couple of seconds more braking time than would otherwise have been necessary (and this does not happen on the other four automatic lines). It looks to me as though some tweaking is necessary, both with the braking arrangements and the door-open delay. This alone would claw back five seconds or so per stop.

Returning to the ‘moderate’ brake rate, I have found out that despite automatic trains having been around for decades there are still some unresolved challenges. These relate to the theoretical possibility of drift in knowing precise position (for example because of missing a track beacon and relying on a possibly poorly-calibrated wheel-speed sensor). There are also plausible opportunities for wheelslip, and therefore in predicting the actual braking rate of the train for any given demand for braking. Moreover wheelslip protection (provided by rolling stock manufacturer) is quite slow in operation, while position correction (and consequential adjustment in brake demand) is provided as part of the train protection and ATO systems and reacts faster; the two responses can attempt to counteract each other. Although this is unlikely to be dangerous, it might precipitate an emergency stop which is undesirable anyway on a passenger train and is more so if there is actually a wheel slide in progress. Although engineers have attempted to mitigate risk of temporarily losing position approaching a station by installing additional track beacons, the reality is that uncertain adhesion in the open air is thought most easily mitigated by reducing braking rate to a level where it is unlikely to occur. Hence my expectation of a brisk Victoria Line style stop isn’t going to be seen on the open sections of the Hammersmith & City any time soon.

I should add that although it is tremendously easy to reduce the braking rate compared with fixing the adhesion and positional uncertainties, it doesn’t come free. S Stock has an emergency brake rate of 1.4 metres/second/second (m/s/s), which is too much for passenger comfort and normal service braking is designed to fall in the range 0.2 – 1.15 m/s/s. These are nominal rates and at the higher end cannot be depended on for the reasons already stated. Perversely, it is expected that on manually-driven trains the operators will detect wheel slide issues and correct for them whilst automatic systems are apparently not trusted. Because high brake rates might be untrustworthy, a notional brake rate (the ‘guaranteed’ brake rate) is defined, and this is considered dependable; I believe the S Stock guaranteed rate is set at 70% of the maximum, which would be about 0.8 metres/second. However, at the moment, rates I actually measured averaged about 0.6 m/s/s (except at Hammersmith where it is lower). In fact for most of the deceleration period the rate was a tad higher (maybe as much as 0.7 m/s/s) and the average was brought down by the faffing about near the stop mark where the train was trying to find its mark.

Lest anyone thinks this doesn’t matter, if we take the Victoria Line as a fine example of what ATO can achieve, the nervousness about open air brake rates on other lines means a reduction of service brake rate of about 40 per cent. This adds 10 seconds to the running time between stations, at every station. This may not sound much, but on a run between Hammersmith and Barking that is roughly an extra ten minutes a round trip. It is not negligible. Looking at the whole of the subsurface system we are talking of perhaps half a dozen more trains than we would otherwise need simply to mitigate the effect of the constrained braking. And if you reckon a train as £10 million each, that is a lot of money tied up which you could argue might be better spent on finding a solution to the adhesion risk. This is all before we consider cost of extra journey time to passengers who are expecting service improvement. It is particularly galling to see (live) train operators accurately braking more efficiently than the new ATO system because they can look out of the window and assess wheel-slide risk, and have their experience to fall back on. I measured the stopping time at Ladbroke Grove (outside the ATO area) and the operator decelerated the same train more briskly and saved six seconds!

It is interesting how introducing automatic operation has allowed us a higher acceleration rate but a reduced rate of braking. I should add that the higher acceleration arises simply because the trains were previously limited to a performance similar to the old trains because of the traditional signalling and the need to keep within the safety envelope. With the old signalling decommissioned the full rate of acceleration could be provided.

I imagine that the braking rate in automatic operation will be significantly increased in the central London tunnel areas when the system is expanded, so we can look forward to some livelier performance. However, since the majority of the sub-surface lines are actually in the open air, there is a concern that most journey times will not be altered very much. It is true that automation and the overlaid train management system would be expected to improve regularity. It is also true that new signalling will reduce delays as the existing system is a bit crude, a matter not helped by the removal of signals and lengthening of signal overlaps to address perceived safety issues a few years ago. Some top speeds might be slightly higher. Reliability should also be much-improved. This is all to the good, but for the enormous cost of the new system, now a decade late, some livelier train performance was hoped for.

Train Working at Hammersmith

Irrespective of automatic train operation, to achieve the improved frequencies referred to earlier we will need smarter train working at Hammersmith than I saw whilst watching it and I wonder if we will get it with the present track layout, which has not altered since 1906 (this has the important crossovers a long way away from the platform ends, much increasing clearance times). The crossover leading to western platform is especially distant from it and holds trains unnecessarily far away from platform (it is located to allow convenient access to a goods yard closed 50 years ago). I watched a train unaccountably held at this very place during one visit, even though that platform had been empty for many minutes before the train eventually came in, and it caused at least a minute’s delay. I suppose the staff at the new signalling centre (next to which it had stopped) are still getting used to the new kit.

And Finally

Actually, Hammersmith is not a very satisfactory terminus. It is tremendously busy these days but very large numbers seem keen to interchange with the District and Piccadilly station or the bus station to complete their onwards journey. It is a rotten interchange too, and the need for very large numbers of people to cross two busy roads seems to overwhelm the crossings. Can we not do better than this?


Just out of interest I have been riding the automatic section of the H&C between Hammersmith and Latimer Road regularly, and usually time the journey to see how the tweaks (if there are any) are getting along. My last visit was 24th July.

I have tried to persuade myself that the time delay caused by the ‘hunting’ for the exact stopping mark has been reduced and that the door open delay in automatic mode has similarly been reduced. Although I think there have been some software-related performance changes, I am not, unfortunately, really persuaded overall performance is much better. Taking the wheel-turning time between Goldhawk Road and Latimer Road only, I find the run time was between 2m 53s and 2m 55s when the trains were driven manually, and they are taking 8-10 seconds longer now. Even if we use the lower number, this is disappointing and represents an extra 3 seconds or so a stop, which mounts up over a long journey.

Of course, there may be some improvements in the pipeline and as mentioned in the original blog the performance will probably be livelier in the tunnel sections. There will also be service improvements resulting from the use of a train management system (I hope). Even so, the exuberant public relations story we have been given for the last few years while the new signalling was being planned did not hint at potentially slower journeys!

I have also experience on my trips out further heavy overcrowding between Baker Street and Edgware Road and much passenger puzzlement at Edgware Road as visitors to London try and get to grips with the confusing operation of the Circle Line here (without much help from staff, I may add). The Baker Street to Hammersmith and Gloucester Road part of the Underground really isn’t satisfactory for today’s flows and I wonder if something more imaginative could be considered. I know Crossrail will (one day) help, but even so Edgware Road is not a satisfactory in-town terminus in today’s conditions.



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