Somewhat tailing the grand projects of central Crossrail, the upgrades to the smaller stations outside the core were a messy and largely underfunded collection of works, the unwanted and uncared for offspring of a skirmish/collaboration between TfL and Network Rail.

After our input to the central projects had subsided in favour of the contractor delivery teams, TMA had a regularly expanding role in the rush to divvy-up and patch-up the Elizabeth line destinations to both east and west.  One particularly belated project afterthought was the inclusion of step-free-access which, after considerable pressure from those who would most benefit, and when Boris finally turned his attention to the writing on the voters’ wall, were begrudgingly the subject of a new pot of funds.

My particular interest in these outer stations is the bridges we designed for that programme and that, in 2015, we handed to TfL/London Rail for delivery.  In the event, they had been installed some three to five years later by which time I had put TMA to bed and, while I had seen the occasional promotional video of their night time installation and wondered at the dramatic change in colour,  I had not taken too much notice of their reflection of the design intent.

However, having recently enjoyed and been slightly envious of a bridge I’d used in Bettembourg, and having noticed how with fewer time-worn UK rail constraints things quickly became more elegant, and five years having now passed, I thought it was time to see how our bridges were bearing up.

There were eight well-spaced stations under the TfL hat, while the rest and those in between were to be the responsibility of Network Rail. The result, as one might expect, is a mishmash of design solutions in marked contrast to the ‘line wide’ and perhaps over-coordinated ambience that permeates the core.

A design-minded sojourn along the route is initially notable for the number of posts seen on each platform.  Not for the surface stations the svelt integrated invisibility of the kit in the underground, on the surface each profession has turned up with its own support system, creating on some parts of the platform a veritable forest of steelwork, accompanied more often than one would like with a corral of Wickes railing to stop the customers leaning on them.   Admittedly, these are rarely platforms used solely by the Elizabeth line, but whoever was sitting in judgement of the uncluttered ambience of these stations was obviously looking elsewhere on the day.

I was pleased that I started in the east, for the bridges at Seven Kings and Manor Park are not bad at all. The colour is of course a strange result, and greatly detracts from the intent, but at least the distinction between the layers of structure, railings and glazing provides a degree of articulation to reduce the inevitable structural bulk. The few details we were allowed to retain in the contractor’s documentation have been followed to a reasonable degree and, perhaps most importantly, the spaces are generous, open and unthreatening. The form is sufficiently robust that even a job-lot of slightly sad looking trip hazard plant pots fails to detract, and it all seems reasonably well looked after and devoid of graffiti in even the less accessible corners. Of course, it’s difficult to take my intended intent image comparison photographs without yet another services post bombing the view, but be that as it may.

Heading west and on my way through the core I notice how the gleaming white cladding of the tunnels platforms is beginning to show the dirt, and I shall return to look more closely at my central stations another day.

The bridges at Taplow and Langley were installed two years later than those in the east and, while still retaining a cursory impression of the intent from some considerable distance, are wholly redesigned and all the worse for it.  I can only surmise that the budget-stretched Crossrail team was promised and accepted a ‘value engineered’ price, and that whoever was in charge of design quality was by then looking for their next job.

I don’t think I need to understand the reasons for five frames for one window, for how a portal frame entrance should evolve into poorly screwed together plates of different materials, of why the benefits of cross ventilation in the bridge were abandoned in favour of a veritable wall of uninsulated steel, and of how the ceiling panels should be substituted with an inevitable future dirt trap liability. Nor do I need to surmise why, despite the ‘value’ solution, the grout between the floor tiles is already missing, rust is grinning through the finishes, and rogue light fittings from B&Q have appeared in random locations. I’m only pleased that the good burgers of Hertfordshire don’t tend to sport spray cans.

I have often bemoaned the separation of design and delivery activities in TfL’s procurement approach as being the placing of lowest capital cost above minimizing the long-term liabilities and maximizing the customer experience. I have bemoaned that as a consequence the resulting infrastructure is hardly worthy of our considerable investment and is uninspiring in its offer. The TfL method relies on the authority and  exercising of design and delivery quality control from within the organisation and, when it comes to the less glamorous quarters of the network, it is simply not there.

Of course in the back of my mind, having noted the beginnings of encrusted dust on my way through, I am also wondering that now that the initial industry euphoria has died down, now that passenger numbers are once again rising, now that time has allowed the stations to be tested for endurance, whether it was really there at all, and whether it will soon be time to go and look equally closely at my stations in the core.