Huddersfield

There is a bit of a mis-match at Huddersfield station. The frontage is something special but the interior struggles to keep up the impression. I’ve only been seriously worried for my safety on a train twice in my life. Once was when hurtling down from Beattock summit behind a blue electric. I was glad that I didn’t have a cup of coffee at that moment because it would have gone everywhere.

The other time was when I was a teenager and our steam-hauled Leeds-bound train emerged unsuspectingly from the tunnel immediately west of Huddersfield station. Either, the driver had forgotten about the existence of Huddersfield station, or it had just happened upon him rather more quickly than he had expected. I think, from memory, that he perhaps realised a little late that he was expected to stop here, but the crew might also have been unaware that they were going to be slewed across to what is now number eight on the island platform, or they would not have been doing anything like the speed with which the approach was made. I have never felt the jerk of unexpected points so markedly, before or since. Derailment could not have been more severely tested and still found wanting. The first thing I did when I stepped out onto Huddersfield station yesterday morning - for the first time ever - was to inspect this site of my narrow escape of around sixty years ago. The driver had got away with it and so did we. On the other hand, perhaps the event has just got worse in my imagination as time has passed by. I was probably quite partial to a bit of exaggeration when I was young.

The station was designed by James Pritchett and constructed for the London and North Western Railway in a neo-classical style. The facade was thought by John Betjeman to be the most splendid in England, and the station is now a Grade I listed building. My attention, however, had been drawn to the overall roof. Maybe I’ll start a survey, in which this one may well be propping up the rest of the table. At first glance, it appears less than substantial. The visible metalwork reminded me of a Meccano set that had gone a bit rusty and the “glass” sections resembled strips of grubby, corrugated plastic. I was a little relieved to discover that there are plans afoot for the roof, as part of the major upgrade associated with the eventual electrification and quadrupling of the Trans-Pennine route. Network Rail’s 2021 proposals have to take account of the fact that this is actually a rare surviving example of a “Euston truss roof” and part of the protection order. Whatever they come up with, I’m sure it will enhance the overall ambience below.

Taking centre stage on the paved area in front of the station is a sculpture of Harold Wilson, who was born in Huddersfield and elected four times as prime minister. I remember how significant my folks thought his election to power was in 1964. It was a time of great optimism for many. Back inside, it was lunchtime and it was cold. I made for the buffet on the island platform. Though the sign on the door said it was open, it was locked, and with no signs of life within. Perhaps it’s taken a leaf out of the book of many an afternoon tea shop in Britain that closes just around the time of day that you fancy a nice afternoon tea. I ate my sandwich, instead, in a glass-sheeted goldfish bowl of a waiting room, which was heated, except that because I was sitting near the automatic doors, whenever I lifted food to my mouth the doors opened in response to my action, accompanied by yet another blast of cold air. With doors at each end, it was a bit like sitting in a wind tunnel.

Class 68 No. 68026 Enterprise arrived with a sleek TransPennine express heading for Scarborough. The main line from Leeds to Manchester was being well served by a range of units, including Class 185 Desiros and Class 802 Novas. I like the TPE livery, which is bright and cheerful, yet remains stately.

I ventured back through the subway to the main platform and headed for the Head of Steam bar and buffet. They advertise pies but don’t do chocolate bars. It was a delight - warm and cosy, and with 60s music playing and railway bric-a-brac and photos of steam trains on the walls. Coffee was two thirds of the price that you could obtain it at the platform kiosks. It is accessible directly from the street as well as from platform one - even though this is not just a barriered station, but a manned, barriered station, at that, so I’m not sure how that that works. Maybe it’s why there appeared to be dedicated and uniformed security personnel standing around and looking at me suspiciously, as I stood around with my camera at the platform end. I’m not sure I’ve noticed that before, away from the London termini, and during what I was about to describe as “normal times”, before I thought better of it.