Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 3, Episode 3 - Sudbury to Southend - full transcript
In 1840,
one man transformed travel in Britain.
His name was George Bradshaw,
and his railway guides inspired
the Victorians to take to the tracks.
Stop by SW
he told them where to travel,
what to see and where to stay.
Now, 170 years later,
Pm making a series of journeys across
the length and breadth of the country
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
I'm now completing my journey from
North Norfolk to the heart of London.
My Bradshaw's enthuses that
"the sight of our gigantic metropolis
is the very best that could have been
selected for commercial purposes,
as it enabled us by means of the Thames
to carry on a water communication
with every pan of the globe."
"And not even the development
of the railway system in England
has lessened this advantage."
It might have added
that we also created
the greatest financial centre
that the world had ever seen.
On my final leg of this journey,
I'll be taking a ride
on a secret miniature railway...
Wow. I'll never complain
about the Tube again.
This is quite small.
...tolling alongside
the good burghers of Bow...
(bell tolls)
Try not to look up,
you'll get dust in your eyes.
And confusing hapless commuters
at Fenchurch Street.
Westcliff,
Thorpe Bay and Shoeburyness.
Oh, I left out the time
at the beginning. I left out the time.
Starting on the east coast,
this journey has taken me
through Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex
on the Great Eastern Railway,
which in Bradshaw's day
opened up difficult terrain
and allowed trade to flourish.
Now I'm headed to the very centre
of money itself, the City of London.
My last stretch begins in the east of
the city at Fenchurch Street
and takes me along the north bank
of the Thames, ending on the Embankment.
It's been distributing commuters
to the counting houses of the city.
The magnificent Royal Exchange building,
Poised by the mid-19th century
to become arguably
the world's most important
financial and commercial centre
the world has ever seen, actually.
While the Royal Exchange
concentrated on trading goods,
The 1840s, railway mania,
something quite different.
Of course established a permanent
railway market in the Stock Exchange.
No fewer than 240 parliamentary bills
to set up new railway companies
and routes were proposed in 1845 alone.
Railways were promoted
as a foolproof way to make money,
and almost everyone who could,
rushed in.
As shares
in the pioneer companies soared,
ever more speculators
poured in their money.
Give me an idea of who got caught up
in this, what you call, mania.
All sorts of people.
People of eminent respectability.
Curates, widows and so on.
Even the Bronté sisters
got caught up a bit in it.
Many railway lines were built and the
public for a time did well out of it.
But fraudulent railway companies
were launched on an unsuspecting public.
Just as with the dot-com boom
of the 1990s,
inevitably there was a price to pay.
Many of the railways were never built
as the impracticality
of proposed routes became clear.
Companies collapsed, taking
many families' life-savings with them.
How bad was the crash when it came'?
It was a pretty bad crash.
It affected the big operators, the big
players, as well as the small people.
There's a herd instinct at play,
which is often so powerful in markets
and arguably in society generally.
That I think is what happened.
It left an amazing legacy.
Money was lost, of course,
through ill-advised speculation,
but the permanent legacy was
the Victorian railway infrastructure.
The Victorian railway mania
and subsequent boom and bust
were clearly disastrous for some.
But had there not been such investment,
we wouldn't have the astonishing
railway system that exists today.
And in the heart of the city,
surrounded by the huge
financial institutions of our age,
the Stock Exchange, the Bank of England,
We often wondered,
“What place morality?“
So where better to go than
to that beacon of spirituality,
the most famous church
serving the commercial district.
I'm now headed for what
my Bradshaw's describes as
"one of the masterpieces
of Sir Christopher Wren".
"St Mary-le-Bow Church,
which is esteemed to be situated
in the heart of the City of London."
"And all persons born
within the sound of its bells
are vulgarly designated 'Cockneys'."
Now, I was born about 15 miles away.
Too far to hear those bells.
Bradshaw seems rather shocked that
anyone should nave the misfortune
to be termed a "Cockney".
But I wonder whether in the 21 St century
anyone knows what defines a Cockney.
- Are you a Cockney?
- I'm not a Cockney. I'm sorry.
Do you know
what the definition of a Cockney is?
I believe born within a mile
of the sound of the Bow Bells.
Do you know where Bow Bells are?
In the East End of London somewhere.
People who work in the financial
district worship in their lunch-hour.
Services are held during the week,
and not at weekends,
to meet the demands
of the business community.
The Reverend George Bush is the rector.
- Father George.
- Good to see you.
Good to be here at St Mary-le-Bow.
I suppose one of London's
most famous churches.
Indeed. There's been a church
on this site since 1080.
It was built at the command
of the Conqueror's Archbishop
to impress probably on the Saxons
who were living around
that not only the King was here to stay,
but the Norman church was as well.
That was the church that was destroyed
in the Great Fire of London?
It was destroyed, yes.
According to my Bradshaw's, this church
was rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren.
Yes. After the fire,
the tower of St Mary-le-Bow
was Christopher Wren's
second most ambitious project
and second most expensive project
after St Paul's Cathedral.
Bow Bells are probably
the most famous in the world.
and for hundreds of years
have been woven
into the folklore of the City of London.
Legend has it
that they called Dick Whittington
back to London to become Lord Mayor.
They were also rung from the 14th
century onwards at 9:00 each evening,
marking the end
of an apprentice's working day.
Because it was in the centre of
the city, that sounding of the bells
was taken up at the gates and it became,
as it were, a son of curfew bell.
The gates were closed,
not to you and me coming and going,
but to traffic coming through,
providing a measure of quietude
and a measure of peace at night.
What happened to the church
in World War ll?
The very last night of the Blitz,
which was also the worst night
of the blitz for the City of London,
10 May 1941, the church was
almost completely destroyed
by incendiary devices.
There was nothing other than these four
walls of this current building here.
The tower became a furnace.
And after the war, the church
had to be taken down in stages
and then it was rebuilt in concrete,
although, of course, the exterior
stonework of Wren was then replaced.
So you see it pretty much
as Wren knew it,
but in fact it's built
of something rather more modern.
And were the famous bells
destroyed in World War ll?
They came crashing to the ground.
I think some of the bell metal
may have been rescued
and may be in some of the bells
that are there now.
A recording of the bells made in 1926
was used throughout the Second World War
on the BBC's World Service,
a sound of liberty and hope
for the people of Europe.
After perishing in the Blitz,
the 12 bells were re-cast
at the Whitechapel Bell Foundry.
The full pea! was rung
for the first time in 1961.
(bells pea!)
Today the bells of Bow
are rung frequently
by a group of bell-ringers
living in or near the city.
The steeple keeper is Simon Meyer.
(bells pea!)
(bell tolls)
Simon, great to see you.
- Is that the great bell of Bow?
- That was the great bell of Bow.
They didn't quite all stop at the end.
So, these bells are relatively new.
They're post Second World War.
Do they sound as good as the old ones?
The old ones were a very special ring
by Gillett's.
They were 1933.
But they were lost in the war.
They were a very sad ring to lose
in the war
because everyone felt
they were a wonderful ring of bells.
But these are very special as well,
because they are a modern ring of bells,
they've got the modern tuning
and also the metals
that we have in the bells.
People understand much more
about the right alloys to use,
so they've got lovely resonance
and they're a great voice of London.
Novices are rarely allowed to go near
these national treasures,
but Simon's very kindly allowed me
to participate in a Bow pea!
under his firm guidance.
Pull it straight back down.
(Simon) It doesn't actually take
that much pulling.
So no ritual humiliation.
Try not to look up,
you'll get dust in your eyes.
It doesn't help.
I feel that you're doing all the work.
Let me have a go on my own.
- Too slow that time.
- A little bit too slow, yes.
Would you like to have a go
with people ringing around you?
- (Michael) Oh, what fun. Yes.
- Why ever not?
(bells pea!)
- Brilliant.
- Congratulations.
Gosh, that was fun.
(Simon) This is not easy.
It's one of those really traditional
English folk arts,
but it does take time
to get the skills.
When I came up here I thought,
"Why do these people do it?"
As soon as I joined in,
I found out why you do it.
- It's wonderful teamwork.
- It is wonderful.
Thank you all very much indeed.
I find it strangely comforting
to know that, despite everything,
wars, railway mania and boom-and-bust,
Bow Bells have consistently proclaimed
the Church's presence
in the heart of the City of London.
Before I find my bed for the night,
Pm popping back to Fenchurch Street
to meet a very special person
who's just come on shift.
One of the nice things about
Fenchurch Street Station
is that the announcements are made by
a human voice, not an automated system.
And I believe that the lady who does it
recently won the MBE.
I'd like to put the face to the voice.
(announcement) Calling at Limehouse,
West Ham, Barking, Upminster. ..
Thank you very much.
Pm meeting Sue Gibbs, tucked away
in her cubbyhole just off the concourse.
(Sue) ..East Tilbury
and Stanford-le-Hope.
- (Michael) Hello, Sue.
- (Sue) Hello.
- (Michael) How lovely to see you.
- (Sue) And you.
Do you think that passengers appreciate
having a human voice?
I think they do. It's more personal.
It's something they're used to
every day.
The thing with the automated ones
is that the tones are always wrong.
They're always leaping up and down.
The train at platform four!
Occasionally.
But in Bradshaw's day there was
no Sue and her dulcet tones.
No digital displays.
Just a simple board
and a bell that was rung
five minutes
before a train was due to depart.
Quite often, novice travellers
were thrown into utter confusion.
Chaos reigned as they ran
hell-for-leather along the platform,
tumbling over everything and everybody
in their eagerness to catch a train,
which they believed
was about to leave without them.
- Could I have a go?
- Of course you could.
I find it really thrilling.
- I have to put my specs on.
- Of course.
(Sue) You have to keep a finger
on the press-to-talk button.
There's a ding-dong first.
(ding-dong sounds)
The next train from Platform One
is the semi-fast service
to Shoeburyness.
Calling at West Ham, Barking, Upminster,
Laindon, Basildon. ..
...Benfleet, Leigh-on-Sea,
Chalkwell, Westcliff...
...Southend East, Thorpe Bay
and Shoeburyness.
Ooh, I left out the time.
I left out the time.
That's fine. I'm sure they'd give you
a job if you ever needed one.
Well, I might well.
Hopefully, my announcements haven't
befuddled the commuters too much.
And now after a glorious day,
it's time to head for my hotel,
right here in the City.
Bradshaw's says
that the metropolis contains
"the largest mass of human life,
ans, science, wealth,
power and architectural splendour
that exists."
Where better to find a hotel
than in a wonderful former bank building
in Threadneedle Street?
I love the thought that today
I can still walk into the building
that housed the London City
and Midland Bank's headquarters,
just as the Victorian railway wheelers
and dealers would have done
in the 19th century.
Manager Julian Payne is waiting to greet
me in this magnificent banking nail.
This was clearly once a bank.
When does it date back to?
It goes back to 1856.
It used to be City Bank.
As in London City Bank?
As in bank of the City of London.
That's replicated in the glass dome,
which we've got up here.
(Michael) "Cs".
(Julian) It's a 120 hand-painted
glass panel dome.
- What a great survivor.
- It's survived two world wars.
- (Julian) Still here.
- That's amazing.
(Michael) Any other signs
that it was a bank?
If you'd like to follow me to the bar
I can show you something else.
This was the original banking counter,
which is now the bar counter.
- This was in the main lobby.
- I can completely imagine that.
One of these fine, old,
carved bank counters.
I love all the ironwork on your window.
What's the story of that?
That was an outstanding creditor to
the bank and he went into administration
and then to pay off his debts,
he donated the cast-iron to the bank.
We've prepared something very special
for you.
I hear you might be partial
to a spot of whisky.
Brian, our head barman,
has concocted the Bradshaw cocktail.
- Enjoy.
- The Bradshaw'?
- The Bradshaw.
- Oh! A cocktail named after George.
Well, cheers, Julian.
Thank you very much indeed.
Wow. (laughs)
What a fabulous view.
Christopher Wren's greatest
masterpiece, St Paul's,
and closer by,
my own personal alarm clock.
(bells chime)
Woken punctually,
I'm catching the Central Line
to Liverpool Street Station,
the magnificent Victorian terminus
for the Great Eastern Railway.
Now I'm going to visit a London railway,
which, as a Londoner,
I've never travelled on.
I've never even seen a photograph of it.
It's that mysterious.
In addition to the Tube
and subterranean main tine services,
London is home to another railway
whose existence few even know of.
Deep under the hustle and bustle
of London's streets,
a unique electric train system winds
in between the underground network.
The Rail Mail, a secret system of
tunnels, railway lines and platforms,
was built by the Post Office
for one very special reason,
to deliver the capital's post.
I've been granted access to this private
world deep in the bowels of the Earth.
It's just like a miniature Tube line.
Narrow-gauge.
Obviously, electrified.
It's always a very special moment for me
walking along an electric railway line.
Curator of the British Postal Museum
& Archive, Chris Taft, is my guide.
What is the history of underground
railways and the Post Office?
The origin of the underground railway
and the Post Office connection
goes back to the 1860s, to 1861.
They trialled the idea of using air
power to push, like a giant peashooter,
pushing these cars on rails through
tunnels to move mail between stations.
It did the job they wanted it to do.
It was able to move the mail
underground.
It bewilders me that the Victorians
devised such an advanced technology,
literally to blow and suck trains
of post and parcels
through tunnels at a speed
of 30 miles per hour.
Despite that astonishing triumph
of Victorian engineering,
the Post Office was never enthusiastic
and the scheme folded.
But two events coincided which forced
the Royal Mail to think again.
The growth in Britain's postal traffic,
a staggering 5.9 billion items annually
by the eve of the First World War.
And a need to avoid
London's congested streets
where vehicles were moving
at just ten miles per hour.
So work started again on a railway
system 21 metres below the surface,
which opened in 1928.
It ran from east London
from the eastern District Office
through to an office and railway station
at Paddington in west London.
So, 6.5 miles and something like
22 miles of track.
- Presumably it carried a lot of mail.
- It did.
It operated at its peak
22 hours a day.
Operating every day.
It operated continually
throughout the Second World War as well.
The volumes of mail were huge that
were being transported by the network.
Amazingly, this system ran until 2003,
carrying 30,000 mail bags per day
at its peak.
It took 26 minutes to travel seven miles
under the streets of London,
stopping for a minute at each station.
(Chris) I'm going to introduce you to
Ray Middlesworth, one of the engineers.
- Hello.
- Hello, Ray.
- So, at last we come across a train.
- This is one of our 1930s trains.
Two trains coupled together here,
each can hold four containers of mail.
- There's two DC motors on either end.
- (Michael) Where was the driver?
(Ray) No driver. It was fully automatic.
Controlled by relays in a room
under the platform.
(Michael) That absolutely amazes me,
that a system introduced in the 1920s
had driverless trains. Very advanced.
It was.
It was the first automatic mail railway.
- When did it close?
- It closed in 2003.
(Michael) Remarkable. I expect many
people don't know this railway exists
and certainly would be surprised
to know it was operating until 2003.
It's really quite a secret railway.
It was called amongst our own people
one of the best-kept secrets
of the Royal Mail.
(Michael) And indeed,
London's best-kept secret.
Many people know about the Tube itself,
the classic Tube
and other railway lines,
but not this one.
The advent of the Internet and e-mail
sounded the death-knell
for the Mail Rail,
as far fewer items are now sent
by traditional post.
Now all the mail in London
is transported by road.
The majority of the system
no longer works,
but I have the unique chance
to experience just for one moment
what it was like to be a parcel
on the Mail Rail.
Wow. I'll never complain
about the Tube again.
This is quite small.
I keep thinking it's a waste
not to use this line
and it ought to be brought back
into service but, let's face it,
with these dimensions, it's not going
to catch on with passengers, is it?
Pm coming to the end of this journey
on the Great Eastern Railway.
Having passed through,
and indeed under the City of London,
my last destination is very
significant to "Bradshaw's",
but not because of a reference
in the guidebook.
The answer to that riddle
lies underneath Cleopatra's Needle
on the north bank of the Thames.
John Graves of the Maritime Museum
will reveal all.
I suppose most Londoners
probably don't give it a look,
but it is actually extremely ancient.
It's very old. 240050.
In fact, although it's called
Cleopatra's Needle,
it has nothing to do
with Cleopatra at all.
The obelisk was already
a thousand years old
at the time
Cleopatra was Queen of Egypt.
I understand when they erected it,
they put a time capsule in the base.
I thought that was a 20th century idea.
I didn't realise they did it
in the 19th.
What did they choose to put inside it?
As you can see from that huge plinth
up there, it's a big time capsule.
It includes a set of 12 photographs of
the most attractive ladies in England.
There is also a photograph
of Queen Victoria.
And oi course mews a copy
oi Bradshaw's Railway Guide.
And so nice for me to know
that George Bradshaw resides in eternity
with the 12 most beautiful women
of the age.
A 19th-century guidebook has brought
me through Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex
to my home city of London
and one of my favourite monuments,
Cleopatra's Needle.
And here I find buried in the plinth
a copy of Bradshaw's Railway Guide,
because the railways made
19th-century Britain.
And they were synonymous
with a single name,
the man who compiled the timetables,
George Bradshaw.
My next journey starts in Royal Windsor,
then takes me south-west exploring
the beautiful rural counties
of Hampshire and Dorset on my way
to the dramatic Jurassic Coast.
What a view, what a day.
Along the way,
Hi be testing a Victorian invention
that revolutionised the mail...
...learning why Victorian tourists
loved the Isle of Wight...
I have this amazing plunge
down to the beach.
Whoa! You have to have
a head for heights here.
And admiring a castle
catapulted to fame by the railways...
Wow, that is fanta... That is fantastic.
The most romantic ruin.
one man transformed travel in Britain.
His name was George Bradshaw,
and his railway guides inspired
the Victorians to take to the tracks.
Stop by SW
he told them where to travel,
what to see and where to stay.
Now, 170 years later,
Pm making a series of journeys across
the length and breadth of the country
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
I'm now completing my journey from
North Norfolk to the heart of London.
My Bradshaw's enthuses that
"the sight of our gigantic metropolis
is the very best that could have been
selected for commercial purposes,
as it enabled us by means of the Thames
to carry on a water communication
with every pan of the globe."
"And not even the development
of the railway system in England
has lessened this advantage."
It might have added
that we also created
the greatest financial centre
that the world had ever seen.
On my final leg of this journey,
I'll be taking a ride
on a secret miniature railway...
Wow. I'll never complain
about the Tube again.
This is quite small.
...tolling alongside
the good burghers of Bow...
(bell tolls)
Try not to look up,
you'll get dust in your eyes.
And confusing hapless commuters
at Fenchurch Street.
Westcliff,
Thorpe Bay and Shoeburyness.
Oh, I left out the time
at the beginning. I left out the time.
Starting on the east coast,
this journey has taken me
through Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex
on the Great Eastern Railway,
which in Bradshaw's day
opened up difficult terrain
and allowed trade to flourish.
Now I'm headed to the very centre
of money itself, the City of London.
My last stretch begins in the east of
the city at Fenchurch Street
and takes me along the north bank
of the Thames, ending on the Embankment.
It's been distributing commuters
to the counting houses of the city.
The magnificent Royal Exchange building,
Poised by the mid-19th century
to become arguably
the world's most important
financial and commercial centre
the world has ever seen, actually.
While the Royal Exchange
concentrated on trading goods,
The 1840s, railway mania,
something quite different.
Of course established a permanent
railway market in the Stock Exchange.
No fewer than 240 parliamentary bills
to set up new railway companies
and routes were proposed in 1845 alone.
Railways were promoted
as a foolproof way to make money,
and almost everyone who could,
rushed in.
As shares
in the pioneer companies soared,
ever more speculators
poured in their money.
Give me an idea of who got caught up
in this, what you call, mania.
All sorts of people.
People of eminent respectability.
Curates, widows and so on.
Even the Bronté sisters
got caught up a bit in it.
Many railway lines were built and the
public for a time did well out of it.
But fraudulent railway companies
were launched on an unsuspecting public.
Just as with the dot-com boom
of the 1990s,
inevitably there was a price to pay.
Many of the railways were never built
as the impracticality
of proposed routes became clear.
Companies collapsed, taking
many families' life-savings with them.
How bad was the crash when it came'?
It was a pretty bad crash.
It affected the big operators, the big
players, as well as the small people.
There's a herd instinct at play,
which is often so powerful in markets
and arguably in society generally.
That I think is what happened.
It left an amazing legacy.
Money was lost, of course,
through ill-advised speculation,
but the permanent legacy was
the Victorian railway infrastructure.
The Victorian railway mania
and subsequent boom and bust
were clearly disastrous for some.
But had there not been such investment,
we wouldn't have the astonishing
railway system that exists today.
And in the heart of the city,
surrounded by the huge
financial institutions of our age,
the Stock Exchange, the Bank of England,
We often wondered,
“What place morality?“
So where better to go than
to that beacon of spirituality,
the most famous church
serving the commercial district.
I'm now headed for what
my Bradshaw's describes as
"one of the masterpieces
of Sir Christopher Wren".
"St Mary-le-Bow Church,
which is esteemed to be situated
in the heart of the City of London."
"And all persons born
within the sound of its bells
are vulgarly designated 'Cockneys'."
Now, I was born about 15 miles away.
Too far to hear those bells.
Bradshaw seems rather shocked that
anyone should nave the misfortune
to be termed a "Cockney".
But I wonder whether in the 21 St century
anyone knows what defines a Cockney.
- Are you a Cockney?
- I'm not a Cockney. I'm sorry.
Do you know
what the definition of a Cockney is?
I believe born within a mile
of the sound of the Bow Bells.
Do you know where Bow Bells are?
In the East End of London somewhere.
People who work in the financial
district worship in their lunch-hour.
Services are held during the week,
and not at weekends,
to meet the demands
of the business community.
The Reverend George Bush is the rector.
- Father George.
- Good to see you.
Good to be here at St Mary-le-Bow.
I suppose one of London's
most famous churches.
Indeed. There's been a church
on this site since 1080.
It was built at the command
of the Conqueror's Archbishop
to impress probably on the Saxons
who were living around
that not only the King was here to stay,
but the Norman church was as well.
That was the church that was destroyed
in the Great Fire of London?
It was destroyed, yes.
According to my Bradshaw's, this church
was rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren.
Yes. After the fire,
the tower of St Mary-le-Bow
was Christopher Wren's
second most ambitious project
and second most expensive project
after St Paul's Cathedral.
Bow Bells are probably
the most famous in the world.
and for hundreds of years
have been woven
into the folklore of the City of London.
Legend has it
that they called Dick Whittington
back to London to become Lord Mayor.
They were also rung from the 14th
century onwards at 9:00 each evening,
marking the end
of an apprentice's working day.
Because it was in the centre of
the city, that sounding of the bells
was taken up at the gates and it became,
as it were, a son of curfew bell.
The gates were closed,
not to you and me coming and going,
but to traffic coming through,
providing a measure of quietude
and a measure of peace at night.
What happened to the church
in World War ll?
The very last night of the Blitz,
which was also the worst night
of the blitz for the City of London,
10 May 1941, the church was
almost completely destroyed
by incendiary devices.
There was nothing other than these four
walls of this current building here.
The tower became a furnace.
And after the war, the church
had to be taken down in stages
and then it was rebuilt in concrete,
although, of course, the exterior
stonework of Wren was then replaced.
So you see it pretty much
as Wren knew it,
but in fact it's built
of something rather more modern.
And were the famous bells
destroyed in World War ll?
They came crashing to the ground.
I think some of the bell metal
may have been rescued
and may be in some of the bells
that are there now.
A recording of the bells made in 1926
was used throughout the Second World War
on the BBC's World Service,
a sound of liberty and hope
for the people of Europe.
After perishing in the Blitz,
the 12 bells were re-cast
at the Whitechapel Bell Foundry.
The full pea! was rung
for the first time in 1961.
(bells pea!)
Today the bells of Bow
are rung frequently
by a group of bell-ringers
living in or near the city.
The steeple keeper is Simon Meyer.
(bells pea!)
(bell tolls)
Simon, great to see you.
- Is that the great bell of Bow?
- That was the great bell of Bow.
They didn't quite all stop at the end.
So, these bells are relatively new.
They're post Second World War.
Do they sound as good as the old ones?
The old ones were a very special ring
by Gillett's.
They were 1933.
But they were lost in the war.
They were a very sad ring to lose
in the war
because everyone felt
they were a wonderful ring of bells.
But these are very special as well,
because they are a modern ring of bells,
they've got the modern tuning
and also the metals
that we have in the bells.
People understand much more
about the right alloys to use,
so they've got lovely resonance
and they're a great voice of London.
Novices are rarely allowed to go near
these national treasures,
but Simon's very kindly allowed me
to participate in a Bow pea!
under his firm guidance.
Pull it straight back down.
(Simon) It doesn't actually take
that much pulling.
So no ritual humiliation.
Try not to look up,
you'll get dust in your eyes.
It doesn't help.
I feel that you're doing all the work.
Let me have a go on my own.
- Too slow that time.
- A little bit too slow, yes.
Would you like to have a go
with people ringing around you?
- (Michael) Oh, what fun. Yes.
- Why ever not?
(bells pea!)
- Brilliant.
- Congratulations.
Gosh, that was fun.
(Simon) This is not easy.
It's one of those really traditional
English folk arts,
but it does take time
to get the skills.
When I came up here I thought,
"Why do these people do it?"
As soon as I joined in,
I found out why you do it.
- It's wonderful teamwork.
- It is wonderful.
Thank you all very much indeed.
I find it strangely comforting
to know that, despite everything,
wars, railway mania and boom-and-bust,
Bow Bells have consistently proclaimed
the Church's presence
in the heart of the City of London.
Before I find my bed for the night,
Pm popping back to Fenchurch Street
to meet a very special person
who's just come on shift.
One of the nice things about
Fenchurch Street Station
is that the announcements are made by
a human voice, not an automated system.
And I believe that the lady who does it
recently won the MBE.
I'd like to put the face to the voice.
(announcement) Calling at Limehouse,
West Ham, Barking, Upminster. ..
Thank you very much.
Pm meeting Sue Gibbs, tucked away
in her cubbyhole just off the concourse.
(Sue) ..East Tilbury
and Stanford-le-Hope.
- (Michael) Hello, Sue.
- (Sue) Hello.
- (Michael) How lovely to see you.
- (Sue) And you.
Do you think that passengers appreciate
having a human voice?
I think they do. It's more personal.
It's something they're used to
every day.
The thing with the automated ones
is that the tones are always wrong.
They're always leaping up and down.
The train at platform four!
Occasionally.
But in Bradshaw's day there was
no Sue and her dulcet tones.
No digital displays.
Just a simple board
and a bell that was rung
five minutes
before a train was due to depart.
Quite often, novice travellers
were thrown into utter confusion.
Chaos reigned as they ran
hell-for-leather along the platform,
tumbling over everything and everybody
in their eagerness to catch a train,
which they believed
was about to leave without them.
- Could I have a go?
- Of course you could.
I find it really thrilling.
- I have to put my specs on.
- Of course.
(Sue) You have to keep a finger
on the press-to-talk button.
There's a ding-dong first.
(ding-dong sounds)
The next train from Platform One
is the semi-fast service
to Shoeburyness.
Calling at West Ham, Barking, Upminster,
Laindon, Basildon. ..
...Benfleet, Leigh-on-Sea,
Chalkwell, Westcliff...
...Southend East, Thorpe Bay
and Shoeburyness.
Ooh, I left out the time.
I left out the time.
That's fine. I'm sure they'd give you
a job if you ever needed one.
Well, I might well.
Hopefully, my announcements haven't
befuddled the commuters too much.
And now after a glorious day,
it's time to head for my hotel,
right here in the City.
Bradshaw's says
that the metropolis contains
"the largest mass of human life,
ans, science, wealth,
power and architectural splendour
that exists."
Where better to find a hotel
than in a wonderful former bank building
in Threadneedle Street?
I love the thought that today
I can still walk into the building
that housed the London City
and Midland Bank's headquarters,
just as the Victorian railway wheelers
and dealers would have done
in the 19th century.
Manager Julian Payne is waiting to greet
me in this magnificent banking nail.
This was clearly once a bank.
When does it date back to?
It goes back to 1856.
It used to be City Bank.
As in London City Bank?
As in bank of the City of London.
That's replicated in the glass dome,
which we've got up here.
(Michael) "Cs".
(Julian) It's a 120 hand-painted
glass panel dome.
- What a great survivor.
- It's survived two world wars.
- (Julian) Still here.
- That's amazing.
(Michael) Any other signs
that it was a bank?
If you'd like to follow me to the bar
I can show you something else.
This was the original banking counter,
which is now the bar counter.
- This was in the main lobby.
- I can completely imagine that.
One of these fine, old,
carved bank counters.
I love all the ironwork on your window.
What's the story of that?
That was an outstanding creditor to
the bank and he went into administration
and then to pay off his debts,
he donated the cast-iron to the bank.
We've prepared something very special
for you.
I hear you might be partial
to a spot of whisky.
Brian, our head barman,
has concocted the Bradshaw cocktail.
- Enjoy.
- The Bradshaw'?
- The Bradshaw.
- Oh! A cocktail named after George.
Well, cheers, Julian.
Thank you very much indeed.
Wow. (laughs)
What a fabulous view.
Christopher Wren's greatest
masterpiece, St Paul's,
and closer by,
my own personal alarm clock.
(bells chime)
Woken punctually,
I'm catching the Central Line
to Liverpool Street Station,
the magnificent Victorian terminus
for the Great Eastern Railway.
Now I'm going to visit a London railway,
which, as a Londoner,
I've never travelled on.
I've never even seen a photograph of it.
It's that mysterious.
In addition to the Tube
and subterranean main tine services,
London is home to another railway
whose existence few even know of.
Deep under the hustle and bustle
of London's streets,
a unique electric train system winds
in between the underground network.
The Rail Mail, a secret system of
tunnels, railway lines and platforms,
was built by the Post Office
for one very special reason,
to deliver the capital's post.
I've been granted access to this private
world deep in the bowels of the Earth.
It's just like a miniature Tube line.
Narrow-gauge.
Obviously, electrified.
It's always a very special moment for me
walking along an electric railway line.
Curator of the British Postal Museum
& Archive, Chris Taft, is my guide.
What is the history of underground
railways and the Post Office?
The origin of the underground railway
and the Post Office connection
goes back to the 1860s, to 1861.
They trialled the idea of using air
power to push, like a giant peashooter,
pushing these cars on rails through
tunnels to move mail between stations.
It did the job they wanted it to do.
It was able to move the mail
underground.
It bewilders me that the Victorians
devised such an advanced technology,
literally to blow and suck trains
of post and parcels
through tunnels at a speed
of 30 miles per hour.
Despite that astonishing triumph
of Victorian engineering,
the Post Office was never enthusiastic
and the scheme folded.
But two events coincided which forced
the Royal Mail to think again.
The growth in Britain's postal traffic,
a staggering 5.9 billion items annually
by the eve of the First World War.
And a need to avoid
London's congested streets
where vehicles were moving
at just ten miles per hour.
So work started again on a railway
system 21 metres below the surface,
which opened in 1928.
It ran from east London
from the eastern District Office
through to an office and railway station
at Paddington in west London.
So, 6.5 miles and something like
22 miles of track.
- Presumably it carried a lot of mail.
- It did.
It operated at its peak
22 hours a day.
Operating every day.
It operated continually
throughout the Second World War as well.
The volumes of mail were huge that
were being transported by the network.
Amazingly, this system ran until 2003,
carrying 30,000 mail bags per day
at its peak.
It took 26 minutes to travel seven miles
under the streets of London,
stopping for a minute at each station.
(Chris) I'm going to introduce you to
Ray Middlesworth, one of the engineers.
- Hello.
- Hello, Ray.
- So, at last we come across a train.
- This is one of our 1930s trains.
Two trains coupled together here,
each can hold four containers of mail.
- There's two DC motors on either end.
- (Michael) Where was the driver?
(Ray) No driver. It was fully automatic.
Controlled by relays in a room
under the platform.
(Michael) That absolutely amazes me,
that a system introduced in the 1920s
had driverless trains. Very advanced.
It was.
It was the first automatic mail railway.
- When did it close?
- It closed in 2003.
(Michael) Remarkable. I expect many
people don't know this railway exists
and certainly would be surprised
to know it was operating until 2003.
It's really quite a secret railway.
It was called amongst our own people
one of the best-kept secrets
of the Royal Mail.
(Michael) And indeed,
London's best-kept secret.
Many people know about the Tube itself,
the classic Tube
and other railway lines,
but not this one.
The advent of the Internet and e-mail
sounded the death-knell
for the Mail Rail,
as far fewer items are now sent
by traditional post.
Now all the mail in London
is transported by road.
The majority of the system
no longer works,
but I have the unique chance
to experience just for one moment
what it was like to be a parcel
on the Mail Rail.
Wow. I'll never complain
about the Tube again.
This is quite small.
I keep thinking it's a waste
not to use this line
and it ought to be brought back
into service but, let's face it,
with these dimensions, it's not going
to catch on with passengers, is it?
Pm coming to the end of this journey
on the Great Eastern Railway.
Having passed through,
and indeed under the City of London,
my last destination is very
significant to "Bradshaw's",
but not because of a reference
in the guidebook.
The answer to that riddle
lies underneath Cleopatra's Needle
on the north bank of the Thames.
John Graves of the Maritime Museum
will reveal all.
I suppose most Londoners
probably don't give it a look,
but it is actually extremely ancient.
It's very old. 240050.
In fact, although it's called
Cleopatra's Needle,
it has nothing to do
with Cleopatra at all.
The obelisk was already
a thousand years old
at the time
Cleopatra was Queen of Egypt.
I understand when they erected it,
they put a time capsule in the base.
I thought that was a 20th century idea.
I didn't realise they did it
in the 19th.
What did they choose to put inside it?
As you can see from that huge plinth
up there, it's a big time capsule.
It includes a set of 12 photographs of
the most attractive ladies in England.
There is also a photograph
of Queen Victoria.
And oi course mews a copy
oi Bradshaw's Railway Guide.
And so nice for me to know
that George Bradshaw resides in eternity
with the 12 most beautiful women
of the age.
A 19th-century guidebook has brought
me through Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex
to my home city of London
and one of my favourite monuments,
Cleopatra's Needle.
And here I find buried in the plinth
a copy of Bradshaw's Railway Guide,
because the railways made
19th-century Britain.
And they were synonymous
with a single name,
the man who compiled the timetables,
George Bradshaw.
My next journey starts in Royal Windsor,
then takes me south-west exploring
the beautiful rural counties
of Hampshire and Dorset on my way
to the dramatic Jurassic Coast.
What a view, what a day.
Along the way,
Hi be testing a Victorian invention
that revolutionised the mail...
...learning why Victorian tourists
loved the Isle of Wight...
I have this amazing plunge
down to the beach.
Whoa! You have to have
a head for heights here.
And admiring a castle
catapulted to fame by the railways...
Wow, that is fanta... That is fantastic.
The most romantic ruin.