Feature: Stations I Have Known
Because I commute, because my job takes me all over the country and because I don't have a car I spend a lot of time on trains. I spend almost as much time waiting at stations. This experience has led me to the inevitable conclusion that Milton Keynes Central is the most evil place on earth.
Initial impressions are deceptive - like most things in Milton Keynes the building is a massive, shiny, sqare edifice with an enormous, triumphant, swastika of a rail symbol dominating its front. It proclaims modernity, status, efficiency. But like many things with an appealing appearance, what lies behind is cold, empty and without soul.
There are two types of rail passenger, and MKC lets them both down. Sometimes I am Type Number One, racing to catch a train in the nick of time.There is panic in my mind - it's the last train, I'll miss my connection, the shops will be closed, I'll be too late for the play/dinner/cinema/that film on Channel 4 I've been waiting months to see. When I am Type Number One I need to get to the platform fast.
Does MKC help me on my way? It does not. In Milton Keynes the the narrow entrance to the platforms is directly beneath the display screens so it's always blocked by meandering travellers and their excessive luggage. In Milton Keynes there are temperamental ticket barriers designed deliberately to slow your dash to the platform. In Milton Keynes there is only one way to and from the platform - if your train has just arrived, you have to fight against the barrage of people getting off before you can even see the train. Hopeless. MKC was not designed for traveller Type Number One.
Nor, it would seem, did they have Type Number Two in mind. Most of the time I am not in a hurry - I usually have half an hour or more to wait before catching my train. I want somewhere warm to relax, perhaps with a tasty snack, away from cigarette smoke, but within sight of the display boards and within easy reach of the platform. Surely the massive, modern, commercial operation that is MKC provides all I need? Far from it.
The only non-smoking, enclosed, warm place to wait is on the station concourse - the other side of the barriers and the stairs, a long way from the platforms and out of sight of the display boards. So I choose not to wait there and head for the platform instead which, by the evidence of the other passengers, is clearly not an extraordinary occurrence. There I can choose between exposed benches at the extreme ends of the platform where the trains don't actually stop, or one of two cold, stale glass boxes, from which I can't hear the announcements or see the display screen or see the clock and which are also at the extreme ends of where trains pull up. If I want to wait where I can see the display screen, the clock and where the train will eventually stand, I have no choice but to stand shivering on the platform, next to the toilets. Well done MKC, you've just failed traveller Type Number Two.
Anyone not yet convinced should know that the only toilets are between platforms 3 and 4 - useless for anyone with trains on 1, 2 or 5. Perhaps cynics will persuaded if I reveal that there are no refreshments available on any of the platforms - if craving a fortifying snack one must walk back up the stairs, through the barriers, through the people looking at the display screens and choose from a particularly shoddy range of limp, unhealthy fare (most of which has gone by 5pm). There are also monitors which show film trailers and passenger advice. Great? Not when they show the same three annoying trailers in relentless rotation, month after month.
The inevitable conclusion is that Milton Keynes Central has no redeeming features whatsoever. In fact, in these times of 'track repairs' and 'speed restrictions', I often wonder if there are even any trains. There is no doubt in my mind this is the most evil place on earth.
(Published in 'Ars Magique' 1996)
Initial impressions are deceptive - like most things in Milton Keynes the building is a massive, shiny, sqare edifice with an enormous, triumphant, swastika of a rail symbol dominating its front. It proclaims modernity, status, efficiency. But like many things with an appealing appearance, what lies behind is cold, empty and without soul.
There are two types of rail passenger, and MKC lets them both down. Sometimes I am Type Number One, racing to catch a train in the nick of time.There is panic in my mind - it's the last train, I'll miss my connection, the shops will be closed, I'll be too late for the play/dinner/cinema/that film on Channel 4 I've been waiting months to see. When I am Type Number One I need to get to the platform fast.
Does MKC help me on my way? It does not. In Milton Keynes the the narrow entrance to the platforms is directly beneath the display screens so it's always blocked by meandering travellers and their excessive luggage. In Milton Keynes there are temperamental ticket barriers designed deliberately to slow your dash to the platform. In Milton Keynes there is only one way to and from the platform - if your train has just arrived, you have to fight against the barrage of people getting off before you can even see the train. Hopeless. MKC was not designed for traveller Type Number One.
Nor, it would seem, did they have Type Number Two in mind. Most of the time I am not in a hurry - I usually have half an hour or more to wait before catching my train. I want somewhere warm to relax, perhaps with a tasty snack, away from cigarette smoke, but within sight of the display boards and within easy reach of the platform. Surely the massive, modern, commercial operation that is MKC provides all I need? Far from it.
The only non-smoking, enclosed, warm place to wait is on the station concourse - the other side of the barriers and the stairs, a long way from the platforms and out of sight of the display boards. So I choose not to wait there and head for the platform instead which, by the evidence of the other passengers, is clearly not an extraordinary occurrence. There I can choose between exposed benches at the extreme ends of the platform where the trains don't actually stop, or one of two cold, stale glass boxes, from which I can't hear the announcements or see the display screen or see the clock and which are also at the extreme ends of where trains pull up. If I want to wait where I can see the display screen, the clock and where the train will eventually stand, I have no choice but to stand shivering on the platform, next to the toilets. Well done MKC, you've just failed traveller Type Number Two.
Anyone not yet convinced should know that the only toilets are between platforms 3 and 4 - useless for anyone with trains on 1, 2 or 5. Perhaps cynics will persuaded if I reveal that there are no refreshments available on any of the platforms - if craving a fortifying snack one must walk back up the stairs, through the barriers, through the people looking at the display screens and choose from a particularly shoddy range of limp, unhealthy fare (most of which has gone by 5pm). There are also monitors which show film trailers and passenger advice. Great? Not when they show the same three annoying trailers in relentless rotation, month after month.
The inevitable conclusion is that Milton Keynes Central has no redeeming features whatsoever. In fact, in these times of 'track repairs' and 'speed restrictions', I often wonder if there are even any trains. There is no doubt in my mind this is the most evil place on earth.
(Published in 'Ars Magique' 1996)
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