Leaving the Station

A space to be filled in Waterloo

In a couple of weeks' time, the first Eurostar train will pull into the gloriously restored St. Pancras Station. It’s a new route which shaves 20 minutes or so off the trip to Paris (or Brussels, if you’re that way inclined, though I don’t know anybody who ever has been) and the building is one of the absolute gems of London’s Victorian architectural heritage. St. Pancras is the only station in the Capital that could ever match up to the grandeur of Paris’ glorious Gare du Nord at the other end, and it’s quite right that this is the first view that foreign visitors should have of the city (though immediately descending to the rat-tastic labyrinth of King’s Cross Tube might be a bit of a shock after such an immaculate first impression).

It does, however, beg the question of what on Earth we’re going to do with the old Eurostar terminal at Waterloo. The building cost £130 million and won both the RIBA Sterling Prize and the Mies van der Rohe Award when it opened. Just 13 years on, it’s to be closed down, unless some viable use can be found for it. There were some vague mutterings about turning it into a shopping centre, until it was quite rightly pointed out that there would be a limited demand amongst retailers for spots at the wrong end of a 400 metre-long boomerang-shaped glass corridor. Hiking stores might be able to get customers in, but I can’t imagine the average British shopper trudging all the way up there.

The answer lies in one of the other unfortunate consequences of the new St. Pancras. The frantic gentrification of Soho and Shoreditch made King’s Cross the last genuinely sordid neighbourhood in Central London. Massage parlours, mad tramps and massive warehouse raves gave it a grimy feel that’s hard to find anywhere else. All of this atmosphere is in the process of being driven away. The half-a-dozen nightclubs that occupy King’s Cross Goods Yard are being closed, and zero tolerance policing is cleaning up the streets.

Meanwhile, Waterloo, for all its incredible theatres, concert halls and cinemas, always has a slightly soulless, central-planning feel to it. It’s like a Thames-side Milton Keynes – lots of exciting concrete shapes, but the people look a bit lost.

So to kill two birds with one stone, let’s turn one end of that Eurostar terminal into a massive nightclub, a great snaking three-room extravaganza, with those clear roof panels so you can see the sun rise. And at the top end, we can have a really top-class homeless shelter for all the victims of the King’s Cross gentrification, giving those hookers and hobos somewhere to rest their heads after a long day’s work adding spice to the Southbank’s excessively spotless streets.

Smokin’

Halle Berry must have wondered if it was a stunt show just for her as swathes of black smoke billowed across Leicester Square on the night of the premiere of her new film ‘Things We Lost In The Fire’. It must have also seemed a bit too close to (her Malibu) home, where fires have been raging. The (just off) Leicester Square fire was actually the result of the kitchen of restaurant Apogee going bang but the old adage must still ring true for Halle and co – all publicity is good publicity!

1966 was a good year…

Whether you were at home, down the pub or trying to hide under your duvet and pretend it wasn’t happening, you couldn’t have escaped the BIG sporting weekend (footie, rugby and that Hamilton bloke driving very fast!) It’s lucky us Brits are a resilient lot (or used to decades of losing) – the fact that we crashed and burned in all three events didn’t seem to faze us, we just carried on drinking – London was heaving with pint-swigging ‘we’ve done quite well’ fans.

A Track through London

The idea might seem like a bit of a dream at the moment but thoughts of a London Grand Prix have once again resurfaced, thanks to Formula One veteran Bernie Ecclestone. I can imagine tourists snapping the not-so-hairpin turn at Oxford Circus (well, people pose proudly at the one in Monte Carlo) and remembering the straight between Top Shop and Selfridges as the place where Hamilton sped to victory – oh, maybe it is just a dream.

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