Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 3, Episode 9 - Brockenhurst to Poole - 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 Stop
he told them where to travel,
what to see and where to stay.
Now, 170 years later,
I'm making a series of journeys across
the length and breadth of the country
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
Using my Bradshaw's Guide,
I get a good idea of how the railways
speeded up communication
in a way that both excited
and bewildered the Victorians.
We, who live in
an age of information technology,
can understand just what it was like.
I'm following
that Victorian superhighway
through the south of England to discover
how the Industrial Revolution
was carried deep into the countryside.
Today, I'll be tasting
a Victorian superfood...
You've got a basket of the stuff here.
That lovely tangy, mustardy taste.
Discovering an industrial process
unchanged since Bradshaw's day...
So all of that is happening by a process
that started with the water wheel?
- (man) Yes.
- Brilliant.
And experiencing life
as a 19th-century train driver.
I love that rhythm of the steam engine.
- The engine is talking to you.
- Absolutely.
So far, We explored
the royal county of Berkshire
and now I'm heading south
towards some of the Victorians'
favourite holiday spots
and my final destination,
the Jurassic isle of Portland.
This stretch starts in Reading
and takes me across the county border
to explore the railways impact
on rural Hampshire,
finishing up in the market town
of Alresford.
To reach my first stop, I'm travelling
on the Great Western Railway,
famously built by
Isambard Kingdom Brunei.
As a frequent traveller from Paddington
to places west,
I'm often frustrated that nearly
every train stops at Reading.
I ask myself, "Why Reading?"
Well, today I have an opportunity
to find out
I'm going to alight at Reading.
The Great Western main line was the
first railway to reach Reading in 1840.
It was quickly joined by other lines
and by the time my guidebook
was written,
Reading was well oh the way to becoming
the busy junction town that it is today.
Millions of people pass through
this station every year,
but at one time, these rails
were famous for a particular cargo.
So, Reading.
My Bradshaw's Guide says that
this is the home of the manufactory
of Huntley & Palmers biscuits.
I seem to remember those
from childhood times.
Wasn't there a rhyme,
"Huntley & Palmers make them
like biscuits used to be"?
So now I'm off to see
what remains of that manufactory.
Reading Station today holds few clues
to the town's industrial past.
But for over a century, arriving here,
you knew you'd come to the biscuit town.
Thanks to the railways,
Reading was home to the biggest
and best-known biscuit manufacturer
in the world.
In the town centre,
there are rows of red-brick terraces
built for the factory workers.
But are today's residents
in touch with their biscuit heritage?
(Michael) Good morning.
How do you like living here?
I'd lived her all my life
and I love Reading.
And did you have any connection
with the biscuit world?
Yes, my husband used to work
for the associated deliveries
but my father-in-law worked for
Huntley & Palmers.
Did your family tell you anything about
working at Huntley & Palmers?
No, but when you left school,
girls went to work at
Huntley & Palmers.
As a child, I went to Huntley & Palmers
to see the conveyor belts working
with the school and everything.
But it didn't fall to you
- to work for the biscuit company?
- No, no.
Morning, sir.
(chuckles)
I wondered what you could tell me about
the history of these houses.
(man) I think they were initially built
for the workers in the biscuit factory.
Reading is sometimes called the biscuit
town, does it still keep that name?
I don't think so.
It's been such a long time
since the biscuit factory closed.
The football team used to be called
"The Biscuit Men" years ago
but now they're called "The Royals",
Royal County of Berkshire.
I don't think many people
now regard it as a biscuit town.
- The biscuit connection has gone soggy.
- It has.
- Thank you again.
- OK, no problem.
In its heyday,
the biscuit factory covered ah area of
30 acres in the heart of Reading.
But extraordinarily, today,
all that remains is the old recreation
building now converted into flats.
I'm meeting curator Brendan Carr
at the town museum
to hear the story of
one of Britain's first global brands.
Good to see you.
Is this either Huntley or Palmer?
This is George Palmer MP.
Yeah, a very important figure
in Reading's history.
Biscuits are absolutely fundamental
to Reading, aren't they?
Essential to
the town's development in fact.
George Palmer joined forces
with Thomas Huntley in 1841
and set about transforming
the family firm.
He built a state-of-the-art factory
right alongside
the Great Western main line
and quickly realised that
the railway itself
could be a gold mine
for the canny entrepreneur.
In the very early days of the railways,
there wasn't any catering carriages
and Huntley & Palmers cottoned on
to that straightaway
and realised it was an opportunity to
market their biscuit factory in Reading
by handing out samples of their biscuits
to the first-class passengers
and saying, "Have a look on
your left-hand side as you go through,
you'll see the big biscuit factory."
So they were pioneers
in all sons of ways.
Before long, the factory was
running its own locomotives
along private railway sidings
to the main lines,
exporting mass-produced biscuits
across the country.
To keep them fresh in transit,
the firm had the brainwave of
using specially designed tins.
The forerunners of
our modem biscuit tins.
This is the average tin you would find.
You'd go into the grocer's shop
and this...
- You can see through it.
- Exactly. This contained digestives.
Did these fit nicely on the railway?
Well, in fact, they did.
They were specially shaped
as slightly off-square
so that they could fit neatly
into the carriages.
- You're quite right.
- To use as much space as possible.
Not quite square.
This clever packaging
and the growing railway network
meant the biscuits could be exported
further and faster than ever before.
And they soon became a symbol of empire.
(Michael) So how far afield did
Huntley & Palmers' biscuits go?
It's extraordinary.
There's a story that when the first
Western travellers reached Tibet,
they were greeted with
Huntley & Palmer biscuits.
- (laughs) What?
- (Brendan) It was extraordinary,
but what we do know is they did reach
as far as the South Pole.
This is a letter from Captain Scott
to the Huntley & Palmer biscuit factory
acknowledging receipt of
the supply of biscuits,
bemoaning the fact that
some of the biscuits had broken.
"We find, on opening the tins of
Antarctic And Emergency Biscuits,
that the biscuits are
considerably broken."
Absolutely amazing, isn't it?
It's really quite moving
to have these artefacts here.
At the start of the 20th century,
the biscuit factory employed
5,000 people.
But by the 1970s,
the need to modernise meant that
production was moved to Liverpool.
The Reading factory produced
its last biscuit in 1976.
But Brendan's baked me
a Victorian recipe
to give me a taste of Readings past.
This is exactly the son of biscuit
that George Bradshaw
would have known, I expect.
- Yes. Try one of those.
- Thank you very much.
- So baked to an 1860s recipe.
- The Long Jamaican.
The Long Jamaican.
It's very plain and lacking in sugar
compared with modern biscuits.
- That's right.
- It's very nice actually.
I like that.
But no, it doesn't have that
manufactured sweet taste
- that our modern biscuit has.
- That's it.
Different Victorian palate.
/like to imagine Victorian
passengers nibbling one of those
as they thumbed the pages
of their "Bradshaw's Guide".
And now ifs time for me
to catch my next train.
I'm back at Reading Station,
a place well known to Queen Victoria,
who gave her royal patronage
to Huntley & Palmers.
I'm glad I got off at Reading.
I know now know that
through its railways,
this town exported biscuits
and, just as importantly,
tins to the world.
(blows whistle)
I'm now leaving
the bustle of Reading behind
and heading south towards
a much more rural landscape.
To get to my next destination,
I have to change trains at Basingstoke
and take a line
through stunning countryside.
(announcer) Next stop
on this service, Micheldever.
I've crossed the border into Hampshire
and my Bradshaw's Guide is enthusiastic.
"The surface of Hampshire
is beautifully varied
with gently rising hills, fruitful
valleys and extensive woodlands."
And as I glimpse it through the trees,
so it appears to be.
In Bradshaw's day,
this landscape was being transformed
as new railway lines
radiated out from London.
And isolated villages were suddenly
within easy reach of the capital.
I'm leaving the train at
the tiny station of Micheldever.
It only gets a passing reference
in my "Bradshaw's Guide"
but thanks to its position on
the Southampton to London tine,
this stop played a starring role
in British Transport history.
George Bradshaw began by
mapping the canals
which were supplanted by the railways.
I've come to Micheldever
to look at a technology
which would eventually
lead to the closure
of vast amounts of
that Victorian rail network.
Throughout the 19th century,
the railways continued to spread.
But even before
they had reached their zenith,
the first motor cars had started
to appear on Britain's roads.
What an unbelievable machine.
I'm meeting vintage car enthusiast
Chris Loader
to see how Micheldever Station
sped the arrival of
this new threat to the rails.
This is beautiful. What is it?
It's a Peugeot.
It was owned by Sir David Sullivan
of Broomhill in Tunbridge Wells.
- What age?
- 1898.
- And it's on the road?
- It's on the road, yes.
What is Micheldever's
significance in motoring?
(Chris) The first car journey
made in a petrol-driven car
was taken from this station.
(Michael) In 1895, a motorlng pioneer
called Evelyn Ellis
had a custom-built automobile
imported from France
and delivered by rail from
Southampton to Micheldever Station.
The trip he took in his new horseless
carriage changed travel forever.
So 1895 is the first recorded
car journey in this country?
(Chris) Correct.
Where did he travel to?
He travelled to his home in Datchet,
which is just next to Windsor.
So a total distance of about 56 miles.
- Remember, no Tarmac.
- No.
And people must have been astonished
as he went along his way.
- Yep.
- Can we take a ride in it today?
Love to drive you.
According to the records,
Evelyn Ellis rolled out of this station
at 9:26 am on 5 July 1895...
(Chris) Here we go.
And took over eight hours
to reach his final destination.
Chris is taking me out in his vintage
vehicle, built just three years later,
to give me a flavour of
that ground-breaking journey.
You imagine, if he had broken down
in any shape or form,
no AA, no RAC to pick him up.
No petrol stations.
I believe people actually, in order to
get petrol, you had to go to a chemist.
(Michael) Imagine
it's on that first journey.
We'd be passing horses and bicycles.
People would be stopping in their tracks
to have a look at us.
Yep. I believe on that actual trip,
there were about 133 horses
which they passed
- which is about three horses per mile.
- Yeah.
And out of that,
there was only a couple of horses
which were terrified by it.
Which wasn't bad really.
So the horses took the arrival of
their rival quite calmly.
Yes. I don't think
there were much problems at all.
Evelyn Ellis's experimental trip
was such a success
that by the end of the year,
20 automobiles had already been
brought into the country.
Have you ever thought of the paradox
that Evelyn Ellis's car
was delivered to Micheldever Station
by train...
By train.
I think they were known in those days
as road locomotives, these things.
And of course,
as people bought more and more of them,
that would see off
many of the railway lines.
Once one person had a car like this,
they all wanted them.
Chris, look at this.
Now we are in the open.
It's absolutely glorious. We're in
a 19th-century horseless carriage.
I think this is bliss, don't you?
We easy to see how this
new and exciting mode of travel
captured the imagination of
those motoring pioneers.
But in Bradshaw's day,
the train was still king.
My guidebook doesn't say much
about Whitchurch, my next stop,
but it too was touched by
the Industrial Revolution.
To my surprise, this sleepy Hampshire
town on the London to Salisbury line
is home to a Victorian silk mill
that's still in full working order.
Stephen.
- It's a wonderful place.
- Welcome.
This is clearly your water wheel.
Is that ancient?
That's a later wheel
that dates to the 1890s,
but this mill has always been
powered by water power.
Back to what time?
- Back to 1817.
- 1817?
- Yes.
- And this is still operating the mill?
(Stephen) Yes, it's Britain's
oldest working silk mill
in its original building.
Mid-19th century Britain
had a flourishing silk industry
which at its peak
employed 130,000 people.
The first water-powered mills
were set up in the Midlands,
but as they proved successful,
imitators followed their lead.
By the 1830s, there were silk mills
like this in 20 counties in Britain.
And the fast-flowing River Test
made Whitchurch a perfect spot.
(Michael) This is a fantastic site.
This hugely powerful wheel transferring
its power through this axle.
Then causing these wheels
to turn in a horizontal plane.
(Stephen) Yes.
- Then that transfers the power here.
- Yes.
- How does all this relate to silk?
- (laughs)
Well, it looks very coarse,
doesn't it?
This is the amazing thing about silk.
The machinery is really very industrial.
Gives you a great sense of
the Industrial Revolution
but dealing with something
incredibly fine.
The contrasts are extraordinary.
So the wheel I saw turning
the other side
now transfers the power
through this leather band.
(Stephen) That's right.
To the shaft here.
(Michael) And that in turn
delivers it to a shaft.
It's like following a thread of
cotton through a building.
(Stephen) Yes, it is. Yes.
- That goes all the way...
- Yes.
Absolutely fantastic imagination.
Ah. Now all of these things
are spinning too.
(Stephen) Yes.
So all of that is happening by a process
that started with the water wheel.
- Yes.
- That's brilliant.
Brilliantly effective.
The railways connected
provincial mills like this
with new markets and brought
skilled workers from the capital
to join the local workforce.
And when you look back at the Census,
it's very clear that there were cousins,
sisters and brothers all working here.
How many people?
At one time,
there were 100 people here.
(Stephen) Their age ranges
were enormous.
- From 13 up to 90.
- (Michael) Thirteen.
In those days,
children could work in factories.
The late 19th century
saw the industry decline
due to cheaper foreign imports,
but Whitchurch mill survived.
The machinery is unchanged
since Bradshaw's day
and is still making Victorian textiles
for everything from costume dramas
to historic buildings.
This isn't just here as a museum.
- You are still producing silk.
- We are indeed.
Very often you are having to recreate
something that was done, let's say,
- in Victorian times.
- Yes.
And we might only receive a small
fragment of the original fabric
because it's so precious.
And have to work out
how it was all set up,
the type of yarn used and the colours,
of course, used to create it.
So there's
a bit of detective work involved.
Some years ago,
we reproduced some fabrics
- in Queen Victoria's railway carriage.
- Really?
(Stephen) Yes.
Obviously, I find that very thrilling.
And George Bradshaw would too.
(laughs) Yes.
It's remarkable to think
that in Bradshaw's time,
even this peaceful corner of the country
was a hive of industry.
Day two of this Keg of my journey
and I'm one another of the many lines
that connected this region
with the capital in Bradshaw's era.
My route passes through the rolling
chalk hills of the Hampshire Downs.
This pretty countryside
became a major source of wealth
when it was used to grow one of
the Victorians' favourite foods.
I'm leaving the train at Alton
to find out more.
(announcement) .. parcels unattended
anywhere on the station.
Alton, what a delightful station.
It's painted in the old green
and cream colours.
It's really old-fashioned.
It really takes you back.
In the 19th century,
this whole area was famous
for a single crop, watercress.
This aquatic plant has always grown well
thanks to Hampshire's
mineral-rich springs.
But it was the arrival of the railways
in the 1860s
that transformed this into the
outstanding watercress area in Britain.
- Hello, there.
- How nice to see you.
We come to meet farmer Tom Amery
on Manor Farm in nearby Alresford.
(Michael) It is a fantastic sight,
all these watercress beds.
(Tom) it is quite unique.
Not many places in the country that have
such a large array of
watercress beds in one location.
And farmed like this,
how far does this go back in time?
A long way.
Watercress beds like this have been
farmed for about 120 or 150 years.
- (Michael) That makes them Victorian.
- It does indeed.
It was that development in the Victorian
era that really set the standards
for how watercress has been grown
and is still grown today.
In the 19th century, Britain's
industrial cities were growing fast.
Urban workers desperately needed
fresh vegetables from the countryside,
and watercress was cheap to grow.
Demand soon skyrocketed.
Pre-Victorian period,
watercress would have been grown
in lots of locations in small volumes.
And what was happening
was with London developing
and obviously losing the area
that you could grow watercress,
they started looking for locations that
naturally had a lot of spring water.
That may be down in Dorset where we have
farms as well, and also around here.
This was the ideal location
for industrial-scale
watercress production.
But first, the growers had to solve
a major problem.
What was very important, it had
to be transported fresh and quickly.
It's one of those products
that is naturally quite perishable.
- They had to move it fast.
- By railway I assume?
Absolutely. The watercress
would be harvested on these farms
and then placed into
what we call wicker flats,
then sent up to London
or whichever city or town it would be
and then it was made into bunches
and sold.
Tn the 19th century, it was thought
that watercress could cure everything
from hiccups to freckles.
And thanks to the trains,
city dwellers now had an abundant supply
of this superfood
delivered to their doorstep.
The Victorians believed it to be
very healthy. Were they right?
(Tom) They were indeed.
The health benefits
derive from the spring water.
That water contains
a lot of vitamins and minerals,
high in calcium for instance.
And that calcium is then taken up
by the crop,
so it's full of vitamin C, calcium,
other minerals that are very important.
So it was
a very easy source of nutrition.
How would people take it?
Were they buying it in little baskets
as we sometimes do today'?
Were they having it in sandwiches?
How did they eat it?
The Earl of Sandwich mentioned
watercress in his early sandwiches,
which is very convenient,
but they were actually eating it
as a cone nearly, which was a bunch.
Watercress continued to thrive
through the two world wars.
But by the end of the 20th century,
it had fallen out of favour.
Now, though, its back in the spotlight
thanks to its health benefits.
- You've got a basket of the stuff here
- I have.
- I hope not all for me. May I try some?
- Of course. It was picked this morning.
- (Michael) ls there a method?
- No, as much as you can fit really.
OK.
Do you know,
it takes me back to childhood.
I confess,
I don't eat it much these days.
- That lovely tangy mustardy taste.
- That's right.
Mmm, that's brilliant stuff.
At its peak,
it's estimated that growers sold
many hundreds of tonnes
of watercress per week.
For the railway workers, transporting it
meant braving all weathers
and pushing their locomotives
to the limit.
Having seen those beautiful acres
of watercress beds,
it's now time to see how the crop
was moved to the markets of Britain
on what was inevitably known
as the Watercress Line.
We come to Alresford, at
the start of the Mid Hams Railway,
which opened in 1865, carving a path
through the rolling Hampshire Downs.
It was closed down in 1973,
but just a few years later,
it was reopened as a heritage line.
I love this,
the old British Railways sign.
The lion and the wheel and the crown.
- Hello.
- Hello, Michael.
- How lovely to see you.
- Nice to meet you.
- Welcome to the Watercress Line.
- I'm looking forward to this.
Good.
We've got some uniform for you,
if you'd like to put that on
and come back and join us.
(Michael) See you in a moment.
You wait here.
We been given the chance
to ride on the footplate
of one of the railways
magnificent steam engines.
Dressed for the pan.
- Do I pass muster?
- You're ready. Please come aboard.
- Thank you.
- (toots whistle)
Volunteer driver Chris Yates
knows how tough it was
to drive a train on the Watercress Line.
(Michael) What's this bit of line like?
It can be hard work.
Especially for the fireman who has to
shovel the coal to produce the steam.
- (Michael) Hard work why?
- Because we've got a hill to go up.
For about four miles, it climbs
up about 400ft to the summit.
- That's demanding for a steam engine.
- Absolutely.
And with a heavy train behind you,
you'll need the steam to do that.
At its peak, 16 steam trains a day
braved this challenging route.
Michael, we're now on the steepest part
of the line at one in 60.
- You can probably see how steep it is.
- Very steep.
(Chris) The engine is labouring a little
bit with the weight of the train.
But if you'd like to have a go,
please feel free.
What do I do?
We've got the regulator here.
That emits steam to the cylinders.
- (Michael) Does that need any movement?
- That moves up.
If you get underneath it and lift it up.
Give it a... yank.
Bit more. Bit more. Bit more.
Bit more.
(Chris) That's it.
You probably hear that
the beat of the engine (indistinct).
If you'd like to wind that
slightly anti-clockwise...
What we're doing is reducing the amount
of steam going into the cylinders
and making use of
the expansive properties of the steam.
- (Michael) Is it moving OK?
- It's moving perfectly.
We're moving up the hill quite fast.
I'm finding a real responsibility
driving this thing.
It's so big and heavy.
And the thing about it is
you can make you go faster or slower
but you can't steer it.
Although ifs hard work, driving
a locomotive is a boyhood dream.
I love that rhythm of the steam engine.
Absolutely.
I've so often heard it
but today I can feel it.
You can feel it all through your body.
- The engine is talking to you.
- Absolutely.
(toots whistle)
Travelling with my "Bradshaw's Guide",
We seen how
the railways helped to send
the effects of the industrial Revolution
rippling through
the British countryside.
On my journeys I've often thought about
the social and industrial impact
of the railways in Victorian Britain.
But having driven this monster,
today I'm thinking about
the visual impact on the landscape
as this green and pleasant land
was criss-crossed by engines
belching fire and steam.
On the next part of my journey
I'll be learning now Victorian
engineering made its mark on music...
- Now I'm going to press a pedal.
- (organ sounds)
Amazing feeling of power.
Going behind the scenes
at a 19th-century railway works...
That is what I call a locomotive.
That is fantastic.
And discovering a landscape that
wowed tourists in Bradshaw's day.
I have this amazing plunge
down to the beach. Whoa!
You have to have
a head for heights here.
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 Stop
he told them where to travel,
what to see and where to stay.
Now, 170 years later,
I'm making a series of journeys across
the length and breadth of the country
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
Using my Bradshaw's Guide,
I get a good idea of how the railways
speeded up communication
in a way that both excited
and bewildered the Victorians.
We, who live in
an age of information technology,
can understand just what it was like.
I'm following
that Victorian superhighway
through the south of England to discover
how the Industrial Revolution
was carried deep into the countryside.
Today, I'll be tasting
a Victorian superfood...
You've got a basket of the stuff here.
That lovely tangy, mustardy taste.
Discovering an industrial process
unchanged since Bradshaw's day...
So all of that is happening by a process
that started with the water wheel?
- (man) Yes.
- Brilliant.
And experiencing life
as a 19th-century train driver.
I love that rhythm of the steam engine.
- The engine is talking to you.
- Absolutely.
So far, We explored
the royal county of Berkshire
and now I'm heading south
towards some of the Victorians'
favourite holiday spots
and my final destination,
the Jurassic isle of Portland.
This stretch starts in Reading
and takes me across the county border
to explore the railways impact
on rural Hampshire,
finishing up in the market town
of Alresford.
To reach my first stop, I'm travelling
on the Great Western Railway,
famously built by
Isambard Kingdom Brunei.
As a frequent traveller from Paddington
to places west,
I'm often frustrated that nearly
every train stops at Reading.
I ask myself, "Why Reading?"
Well, today I have an opportunity
to find out
I'm going to alight at Reading.
The Great Western main line was the
first railway to reach Reading in 1840.
It was quickly joined by other lines
and by the time my guidebook
was written,
Reading was well oh the way to becoming
the busy junction town that it is today.
Millions of people pass through
this station every year,
but at one time, these rails
were famous for a particular cargo.
So, Reading.
My Bradshaw's Guide says that
this is the home of the manufactory
of Huntley & Palmers biscuits.
I seem to remember those
from childhood times.
Wasn't there a rhyme,
"Huntley & Palmers make them
like biscuits used to be"?
So now I'm off to see
what remains of that manufactory.
Reading Station today holds few clues
to the town's industrial past.
But for over a century, arriving here,
you knew you'd come to the biscuit town.
Thanks to the railways,
Reading was home to the biggest
and best-known biscuit manufacturer
in the world.
In the town centre,
there are rows of red-brick terraces
built for the factory workers.
But are today's residents
in touch with their biscuit heritage?
(Michael) Good morning.
How do you like living here?
I'd lived her all my life
and I love Reading.
And did you have any connection
with the biscuit world?
Yes, my husband used to work
for the associated deliveries
but my father-in-law worked for
Huntley & Palmers.
Did your family tell you anything about
working at Huntley & Palmers?
No, but when you left school,
girls went to work at
Huntley & Palmers.
As a child, I went to Huntley & Palmers
to see the conveyor belts working
with the school and everything.
But it didn't fall to you
- to work for the biscuit company?
- No, no.
Morning, sir.
(chuckles)
I wondered what you could tell me about
the history of these houses.
(man) I think they were initially built
for the workers in the biscuit factory.
Reading is sometimes called the biscuit
town, does it still keep that name?
I don't think so.
It's been such a long time
since the biscuit factory closed.
The football team used to be called
"The Biscuit Men" years ago
but now they're called "The Royals",
Royal County of Berkshire.
I don't think many people
now regard it as a biscuit town.
- The biscuit connection has gone soggy.
- It has.
- Thank you again.
- OK, no problem.
In its heyday,
the biscuit factory covered ah area of
30 acres in the heart of Reading.
But extraordinarily, today,
all that remains is the old recreation
building now converted into flats.
I'm meeting curator Brendan Carr
at the town museum
to hear the story of
one of Britain's first global brands.
Good to see you.
Is this either Huntley or Palmer?
This is George Palmer MP.
Yeah, a very important figure
in Reading's history.
Biscuits are absolutely fundamental
to Reading, aren't they?
Essential to
the town's development in fact.
George Palmer joined forces
with Thomas Huntley in 1841
and set about transforming
the family firm.
He built a state-of-the-art factory
right alongside
the Great Western main line
and quickly realised that
the railway itself
could be a gold mine
for the canny entrepreneur.
In the very early days of the railways,
there wasn't any catering carriages
and Huntley & Palmers cottoned on
to that straightaway
and realised it was an opportunity to
market their biscuit factory in Reading
by handing out samples of their biscuits
to the first-class passengers
and saying, "Have a look on
your left-hand side as you go through,
you'll see the big biscuit factory."
So they were pioneers
in all sons of ways.
Before long, the factory was
running its own locomotives
along private railway sidings
to the main lines,
exporting mass-produced biscuits
across the country.
To keep them fresh in transit,
the firm had the brainwave of
using specially designed tins.
The forerunners of
our modem biscuit tins.
This is the average tin you would find.
You'd go into the grocer's shop
and this...
- You can see through it.
- Exactly. This contained digestives.
Did these fit nicely on the railway?
Well, in fact, they did.
They were specially shaped
as slightly off-square
so that they could fit neatly
into the carriages.
- You're quite right.
- To use as much space as possible.
Not quite square.
This clever packaging
and the growing railway network
meant the biscuits could be exported
further and faster than ever before.
And they soon became a symbol of empire.
(Michael) So how far afield did
Huntley & Palmers' biscuits go?
It's extraordinary.
There's a story that when the first
Western travellers reached Tibet,
they were greeted with
Huntley & Palmer biscuits.
- (laughs) What?
- (Brendan) It was extraordinary,
but what we do know is they did reach
as far as the South Pole.
This is a letter from Captain Scott
to the Huntley & Palmer biscuit factory
acknowledging receipt of
the supply of biscuits,
bemoaning the fact that
some of the biscuits had broken.
"We find, on opening the tins of
Antarctic And Emergency Biscuits,
that the biscuits are
considerably broken."
Absolutely amazing, isn't it?
It's really quite moving
to have these artefacts here.
At the start of the 20th century,
the biscuit factory employed
5,000 people.
But by the 1970s,
the need to modernise meant that
production was moved to Liverpool.
The Reading factory produced
its last biscuit in 1976.
But Brendan's baked me
a Victorian recipe
to give me a taste of Readings past.
This is exactly the son of biscuit
that George Bradshaw
would have known, I expect.
- Yes. Try one of those.
- Thank you very much.
- So baked to an 1860s recipe.
- The Long Jamaican.
The Long Jamaican.
It's very plain and lacking in sugar
compared with modern biscuits.
- That's right.
- It's very nice actually.
I like that.
But no, it doesn't have that
manufactured sweet taste
- that our modern biscuit has.
- That's it.
Different Victorian palate.
/like to imagine Victorian
passengers nibbling one of those
as they thumbed the pages
of their "Bradshaw's Guide".
And now ifs time for me
to catch my next train.
I'm back at Reading Station,
a place well known to Queen Victoria,
who gave her royal patronage
to Huntley & Palmers.
I'm glad I got off at Reading.
I know now know that
through its railways,
this town exported biscuits
and, just as importantly,
tins to the world.
(blows whistle)
I'm now leaving
the bustle of Reading behind
and heading south towards
a much more rural landscape.
To get to my next destination,
I have to change trains at Basingstoke
and take a line
through stunning countryside.
(announcer) Next stop
on this service, Micheldever.
I've crossed the border into Hampshire
and my Bradshaw's Guide is enthusiastic.
"The surface of Hampshire
is beautifully varied
with gently rising hills, fruitful
valleys and extensive woodlands."
And as I glimpse it through the trees,
so it appears to be.
In Bradshaw's day,
this landscape was being transformed
as new railway lines
radiated out from London.
And isolated villages were suddenly
within easy reach of the capital.
I'm leaving the train at
the tiny station of Micheldever.
It only gets a passing reference
in my "Bradshaw's Guide"
but thanks to its position on
the Southampton to London tine,
this stop played a starring role
in British Transport history.
George Bradshaw began by
mapping the canals
which were supplanted by the railways.
I've come to Micheldever
to look at a technology
which would eventually
lead to the closure
of vast amounts of
that Victorian rail network.
Throughout the 19th century,
the railways continued to spread.
But even before
they had reached their zenith,
the first motor cars had started
to appear on Britain's roads.
What an unbelievable machine.
I'm meeting vintage car enthusiast
Chris Loader
to see how Micheldever Station
sped the arrival of
this new threat to the rails.
This is beautiful. What is it?
It's a Peugeot.
It was owned by Sir David Sullivan
of Broomhill in Tunbridge Wells.
- What age?
- 1898.
- And it's on the road?
- It's on the road, yes.
What is Micheldever's
significance in motoring?
(Chris) The first car journey
made in a petrol-driven car
was taken from this station.
(Michael) In 1895, a motorlng pioneer
called Evelyn Ellis
had a custom-built automobile
imported from France
and delivered by rail from
Southampton to Micheldever Station.
The trip he took in his new horseless
carriage changed travel forever.
So 1895 is the first recorded
car journey in this country?
(Chris) Correct.
Where did he travel to?
He travelled to his home in Datchet,
which is just next to Windsor.
So a total distance of about 56 miles.
- Remember, no Tarmac.
- No.
And people must have been astonished
as he went along his way.
- Yep.
- Can we take a ride in it today?
Love to drive you.
According to the records,
Evelyn Ellis rolled out of this station
at 9:26 am on 5 July 1895...
(Chris) Here we go.
And took over eight hours
to reach his final destination.
Chris is taking me out in his vintage
vehicle, built just three years later,
to give me a flavour of
that ground-breaking journey.
You imagine, if he had broken down
in any shape or form,
no AA, no RAC to pick him up.
No petrol stations.
I believe people actually, in order to
get petrol, you had to go to a chemist.
(Michael) Imagine
it's on that first journey.
We'd be passing horses and bicycles.
People would be stopping in their tracks
to have a look at us.
Yep. I believe on that actual trip,
there were about 133 horses
which they passed
- which is about three horses per mile.
- Yeah.
And out of that,
there was only a couple of horses
which were terrified by it.
Which wasn't bad really.
So the horses took the arrival of
their rival quite calmly.
Yes. I don't think
there were much problems at all.
Evelyn Ellis's experimental trip
was such a success
that by the end of the year,
20 automobiles had already been
brought into the country.
Have you ever thought of the paradox
that Evelyn Ellis's car
was delivered to Micheldever Station
by train...
By train.
I think they were known in those days
as road locomotives, these things.
And of course,
as people bought more and more of them,
that would see off
many of the railway lines.
Once one person had a car like this,
they all wanted them.
Chris, look at this.
Now we are in the open.
It's absolutely glorious. We're in
a 19th-century horseless carriage.
I think this is bliss, don't you?
We easy to see how this
new and exciting mode of travel
captured the imagination of
those motoring pioneers.
But in Bradshaw's day,
the train was still king.
My guidebook doesn't say much
about Whitchurch, my next stop,
but it too was touched by
the Industrial Revolution.
To my surprise, this sleepy Hampshire
town on the London to Salisbury line
is home to a Victorian silk mill
that's still in full working order.
Stephen.
- It's a wonderful place.
- Welcome.
This is clearly your water wheel.
Is that ancient?
That's a later wheel
that dates to the 1890s,
but this mill has always been
powered by water power.
Back to what time?
- Back to 1817.
- 1817?
- Yes.
- And this is still operating the mill?
(Stephen) Yes, it's Britain's
oldest working silk mill
in its original building.
Mid-19th century Britain
had a flourishing silk industry
which at its peak
employed 130,000 people.
The first water-powered mills
were set up in the Midlands,
but as they proved successful,
imitators followed their lead.
By the 1830s, there were silk mills
like this in 20 counties in Britain.
And the fast-flowing River Test
made Whitchurch a perfect spot.
(Michael) This is a fantastic site.
This hugely powerful wheel transferring
its power through this axle.
Then causing these wheels
to turn in a horizontal plane.
(Stephen) Yes.
- Then that transfers the power here.
- Yes.
- How does all this relate to silk?
- (laughs)
Well, it looks very coarse,
doesn't it?
This is the amazing thing about silk.
The machinery is really very industrial.
Gives you a great sense of
the Industrial Revolution
but dealing with something
incredibly fine.
The contrasts are extraordinary.
So the wheel I saw turning
the other side
now transfers the power
through this leather band.
(Stephen) That's right.
To the shaft here.
(Michael) And that in turn
delivers it to a shaft.
It's like following a thread of
cotton through a building.
(Stephen) Yes, it is. Yes.
- That goes all the way...
- Yes.
Absolutely fantastic imagination.
Ah. Now all of these things
are spinning too.
(Stephen) Yes.
So all of that is happening by a process
that started with the water wheel.
- Yes.
- That's brilliant.
Brilliantly effective.
The railways connected
provincial mills like this
with new markets and brought
skilled workers from the capital
to join the local workforce.
And when you look back at the Census,
it's very clear that there were cousins,
sisters and brothers all working here.
How many people?
At one time,
there were 100 people here.
(Stephen) Their age ranges
were enormous.
- From 13 up to 90.
- (Michael) Thirteen.
In those days,
children could work in factories.
The late 19th century
saw the industry decline
due to cheaper foreign imports,
but Whitchurch mill survived.
The machinery is unchanged
since Bradshaw's day
and is still making Victorian textiles
for everything from costume dramas
to historic buildings.
This isn't just here as a museum.
- You are still producing silk.
- We are indeed.
Very often you are having to recreate
something that was done, let's say,
- in Victorian times.
- Yes.
And we might only receive a small
fragment of the original fabric
because it's so precious.
And have to work out
how it was all set up,
the type of yarn used and the colours,
of course, used to create it.
So there's
a bit of detective work involved.
Some years ago,
we reproduced some fabrics
- in Queen Victoria's railway carriage.
- Really?
(Stephen) Yes.
Obviously, I find that very thrilling.
And George Bradshaw would too.
(laughs) Yes.
It's remarkable to think
that in Bradshaw's time,
even this peaceful corner of the country
was a hive of industry.
Day two of this Keg of my journey
and I'm one another of the many lines
that connected this region
with the capital in Bradshaw's era.
My route passes through the rolling
chalk hills of the Hampshire Downs.
This pretty countryside
became a major source of wealth
when it was used to grow one of
the Victorians' favourite foods.
I'm leaving the train at Alton
to find out more.
(announcement) .. parcels unattended
anywhere on the station.
Alton, what a delightful station.
It's painted in the old green
and cream colours.
It's really old-fashioned.
It really takes you back.
In the 19th century,
this whole area was famous
for a single crop, watercress.
This aquatic plant has always grown well
thanks to Hampshire's
mineral-rich springs.
But it was the arrival of the railways
in the 1860s
that transformed this into the
outstanding watercress area in Britain.
- Hello, there.
- How nice to see you.
We come to meet farmer Tom Amery
on Manor Farm in nearby Alresford.
(Michael) It is a fantastic sight,
all these watercress beds.
(Tom) it is quite unique.
Not many places in the country that have
such a large array of
watercress beds in one location.
And farmed like this,
how far does this go back in time?
A long way.
Watercress beds like this have been
farmed for about 120 or 150 years.
- (Michael) That makes them Victorian.
- It does indeed.
It was that development in the Victorian
era that really set the standards
for how watercress has been grown
and is still grown today.
In the 19th century, Britain's
industrial cities were growing fast.
Urban workers desperately needed
fresh vegetables from the countryside,
and watercress was cheap to grow.
Demand soon skyrocketed.
Pre-Victorian period,
watercress would have been grown
in lots of locations in small volumes.
And what was happening
was with London developing
and obviously losing the area
that you could grow watercress,
they started looking for locations that
naturally had a lot of spring water.
That may be down in Dorset where we have
farms as well, and also around here.
This was the ideal location
for industrial-scale
watercress production.
But first, the growers had to solve
a major problem.
What was very important, it had
to be transported fresh and quickly.
It's one of those products
that is naturally quite perishable.
- They had to move it fast.
- By railway I assume?
Absolutely. The watercress
would be harvested on these farms
and then placed into
what we call wicker flats,
then sent up to London
or whichever city or town it would be
and then it was made into bunches
and sold.
Tn the 19th century, it was thought
that watercress could cure everything
from hiccups to freckles.
And thanks to the trains,
city dwellers now had an abundant supply
of this superfood
delivered to their doorstep.
The Victorians believed it to be
very healthy. Were they right?
(Tom) They were indeed.
The health benefits
derive from the spring water.
That water contains
a lot of vitamins and minerals,
high in calcium for instance.
And that calcium is then taken up
by the crop,
so it's full of vitamin C, calcium,
other minerals that are very important.
So it was
a very easy source of nutrition.
How would people take it?
Were they buying it in little baskets
as we sometimes do today'?
Were they having it in sandwiches?
How did they eat it?
The Earl of Sandwich mentioned
watercress in his early sandwiches,
which is very convenient,
but they were actually eating it
as a cone nearly, which was a bunch.
Watercress continued to thrive
through the two world wars.
But by the end of the 20th century,
it had fallen out of favour.
Now, though, its back in the spotlight
thanks to its health benefits.
- You've got a basket of the stuff here
- I have.
- I hope not all for me. May I try some?
- Of course. It was picked this morning.
- (Michael) ls there a method?
- No, as much as you can fit really.
OK.
Do you know,
it takes me back to childhood.
I confess,
I don't eat it much these days.
- That lovely tangy mustardy taste.
- That's right.
Mmm, that's brilliant stuff.
At its peak,
it's estimated that growers sold
many hundreds of tonnes
of watercress per week.
For the railway workers, transporting it
meant braving all weathers
and pushing their locomotives
to the limit.
Having seen those beautiful acres
of watercress beds,
it's now time to see how the crop
was moved to the markets of Britain
on what was inevitably known
as the Watercress Line.
We come to Alresford, at
the start of the Mid Hams Railway,
which opened in 1865, carving a path
through the rolling Hampshire Downs.
It was closed down in 1973,
but just a few years later,
it was reopened as a heritage line.
I love this,
the old British Railways sign.
The lion and the wheel and the crown.
- Hello.
- Hello, Michael.
- How lovely to see you.
- Nice to meet you.
- Welcome to the Watercress Line.
- I'm looking forward to this.
Good.
We've got some uniform for you,
if you'd like to put that on
and come back and join us.
(Michael) See you in a moment.
You wait here.
We been given the chance
to ride on the footplate
of one of the railways
magnificent steam engines.
Dressed for the pan.
- Do I pass muster?
- You're ready. Please come aboard.
- Thank you.
- (toots whistle)
Volunteer driver Chris Yates
knows how tough it was
to drive a train on the Watercress Line.
(Michael) What's this bit of line like?
It can be hard work.
Especially for the fireman who has to
shovel the coal to produce the steam.
- (Michael) Hard work why?
- Because we've got a hill to go up.
For about four miles, it climbs
up about 400ft to the summit.
- That's demanding for a steam engine.
- Absolutely.
And with a heavy train behind you,
you'll need the steam to do that.
At its peak, 16 steam trains a day
braved this challenging route.
Michael, we're now on the steepest part
of the line at one in 60.
- You can probably see how steep it is.
- Very steep.
(Chris) The engine is labouring a little
bit with the weight of the train.
But if you'd like to have a go,
please feel free.
What do I do?
We've got the regulator here.
That emits steam to the cylinders.
- (Michael) Does that need any movement?
- That moves up.
If you get underneath it and lift it up.
Give it a... yank.
Bit more. Bit more. Bit more.
Bit more.
(Chris) That's it.
You probably hear that
the beat of the engine (indistinct).
If you'd like to wind that
slightly anti-clockwise...
What we're doing is reducing the amount
of steam going into the cylinders
and making use of
the expansive properties of the steam.
- (Michael) Is it moving OK?
- It's moving perfectly.
We're moving up the hill quite fast.
I'm finding a real responsibility
driving this thing.
It's so big and heavy.
And the thing about it is
you can make you go faster or slower
but you can't steer it.
Although ifs hard work, driving
a locomotive is a boyhood dream.
I love that rhythm of the steam engine.
Absolutely.
I've so often heard it
but today I can feel it.
You can feel it all through your body.
- The engine is talking to you.
- Absolutely.
(toots whistle)
Travelling with my "Bradshaw's Guide",
We seen how
the railways helped to send
the effects of the industrial Revolution
rippling through
the British countryside.
On my journeys I've often thought about
the social and industrial impact
of the railways in Victorian Britain.
But having driven this monster,
today I'm thinking about
the visual impact on the landscape
as this green and pleasant land
was criss-crossed by engines
belching fire and steam.
On the next part of my journey
I'll be learning now Victorian
engineering made its mark on music...
- Now I'm going to press a pedal.
- (organ sounds)
Amazing feeling of power.
Going behind the scenes
at a 19th-century railway works...
That is what I call a locomotive.
That is fantastic.
And discovering a landscape that
wowed tourists in Bradshaw's day.
I have this amazing plunge
down to the beach. Whoa!
You have to have
a head for heights here.