St Pancras at night

click photo to enlarge
Earlier this year, in May, I posted a photograph of the train shed at St Pancras station in London. Today's photograph shows the same location, from a slightly different point of view, at night. What the earlier photograph doesn't reveal is that the shot was taken through the glass wall that separates the Eurostar trains from the public areas of the building. The image above does show that through the three reflected lights that can be seen in front of the illuminated girders of the roof.

Each time I step into this station I look up in awe at the train shed roof of 1868 that was designed by William Henry Barlow. Its unbroken span was the largest in the world at the time it was built, and even in the twenty-first century, a time of architectural megastructures, it retains the power to impress. I quickly snapped this shot before we went into the nearby Booking Office Bar in St Pancras Hotel, captivated by the light and shade and grateful for the two silhouetted figures that gave the scene focus and a sense of scale. Incidentally the shot was taken with my Samyang 12mm f2 (24mm/35mm equivalence), a manual focus lens that I have had for a couple of months and which has become a firm favourite.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:5000
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

St Pancras station train shed

click photo to enlarge
It's a testament to the engineering skills, vision and achievement of the Victorians that so much of the infrastructure that they created still serves us today. Our large towns and cities, for example, still depend to a very great extent on the sewers that they constructed, and the essence of the railway system is almost wholly a creation of the nineteenth century.

I was reminded of this the other day when I walked through the arch under St Pancras Hotel in London and stepped onto the platform where the Eurostar trains were were lined up. What caught my eye wasn't the sleek elegance of the shiny locomotives and their carriages, but the enormous, soaring, single-span arch of the engine shed. This structure was the work of the engineer, William Henry Barlow (1812-1902) assisted by Rowland Mason Ordish (1824-1886). It is slightly pointed, creates a space just over 245 feet (75 metres) wide, and was the largest such building in the world at the time it was erected in 1868. The materials used were wrought iron, timber and glass. Each of the 24 main ribs are six feet deep and are created from a lattice-work of metal that lends the whole structure a light, almost insubstantial appearance. That it continues in service today is a testament to its strength and the skill of those who designed and built it. In the fifteenth year of the twenty first century we are used to being impressed by large, new, exciting structures - earlier in the day I had been looking at 1 St Mary Axe (the "Gherkin") and the new Broadgate development - and it's good, I think, that the buildings that awed the Victorians are still capable of inspiring that feeling in us today.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Cherishing the past

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It's interesting how the "futurologists" get it wrong isn't it. As a callow youth I remember being told that when I was a man my working day would be shorter as machines removed the drudgery, that we'd all have flying cars, that colonies of people would be living on the moon and nearby planets, that my clothing would be a sort of all-in-one jump-suit, and my food would be a manufactured gloop that contained all the calories and nutrients essential for health. At the dawn of the computer age a sage was heard to pronounce that the UK would never need more than 3 of the machines. Then, when computers were becoming common we were told that offices would become "paperless". It's predictions of this sort that make me think I could be a futurologist.

One of the predictions that I never saw made was that the more we travelled into our future, the more we would cherish what was left of our past. This seems to be a fairly widely held view, at least in the UK. It's also a view that has positive and negative consequences. Let's start with a negative. Ask most people what kind of house they would really like and they'll tell you about some old, romantic looking building, wearing a patina of age, set in a rural idyll. The idea of an energy efficient, modern structure that effectively meets the needs of modern living is the dream of few. On the positive side, this affection for our past means that enough of it is preserved and remains for us to place ourselves in time, and so better understand where we are by where we've come from.

I was thinking about this when I visited the North Norfolk Railway at Sheringham recently. The Victorian station of this preserved railway has been restored and fitted out with original signs, advertisements, luggage, trolleys, weighing scales, etc. The volunteer staff wear old-style uniforms, and all this makes the perfect setting for the steam trains and early diesels that travel over its tracks. Standing on a platform I took this shot of the opposite platform and its adjoining buildings. The overhead glass and metal canopy was filtering the light that fell on the lovingly restored and preserved artefact and people. You'll notice that the two prominent, original, enamel advertisements are for cigarettes. Another thing I never saw predicted about my future was that cigarette smoking would be banned in public buildings, and that's a development that has pleased me mightily.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 48mm (96mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On