This initial approval is not the end of the story, as there is lots of wrangling still to come. Many in the Home Counties are unhappy that the line will cut through their back yards (literally in some cases), forcing them out of homes and causing much disruption, with no direct benefit to them (there will be no stations between London and Birmingham). The vocal, organised and well-supported Stop HS2 campaign will surely continue to fight the plans tooth and nail. This raises the exciting prospect of more protest songs like this one:-

A Bill to construct the line needs to go through Parliament, and although all three major parties support high speed rail in principle, some MPs – whose constituencies will be affected by construction – are threatening to rebel against the party line.

A lot of the complaints are about the cost – suggesting that £33bn is too much to cut journey times. This misses the point that HS2 is also about providing capacity. The existing routes between London and the North are reaching saturation point – they cannae take any more trains, captain!

Of course I’m happy about the news – it’s 120-odd miles of new railway, for goodness sake! After years of bellyaching about the state of Britain’s railways, it’s good to see the powers-that-be finally take an interest in tackling the problem. In a rare example of long-term planning, this 15-year project to will provide much-needed extra capacity on the rail network.

Also, the Daily Mail clearly hates the idea, which has convinced me it has to be worthwhile.

I do, however, have some reservations (they’re free of charge at any staffed station and are recommended for longer journeys).

Firstly, I’m worried that fares will be too expensive for the average punter. The HS1 commuter service from London to Kent charges a premium, and it’s almost certain that HS2 will be similar. The West Coast Main Line is rapidly becoming unaffordable to those unable to book a cheap Advance ticket or use London Midland’s slower service, and it looks like the new line could be even dearer. It would be a shame if HS2 turns out to be usable only by the well-off.

Secondly, I worry that investment in the “classic” lines will dwindle as attention is focused on the glossy TGV-esque trains. Many in Britain look enviously at France’s TGV network, but they may be unaware that many secondary SNCF routes have seen their services reduced or replaced by buses as investment has been diverted to the high-speed routes. Many of Britain’s minor rail routes are lifelines for the communities they serve, and I don’t want to see them sacrificed for the sake of a prestige project.

Despite these concerns, I look forward to the day when I can board a shiny high speed train at Liverpool Lime Street and be whisked off to London in just 1¾ hours. I’ll be 44 years old, so a relaxing train journey will be the perfect way to recuperate after my hip replacement.

The line proved popular with dock workers and the inhabitants of the residential areas of Dingle and Seaforth. It also tapped into the tourist market, as the elevated structure, 16 feet above the ground, offered excellent views of the ships and activity in the city’s docks, which were otherwise mostly hidden behind fortress-like walls.

The good times didn’t last, however, as the effects of pollution and salty sea air combined to corrode the iron structure beyond economic repair. The last trains ran on Sunday 30th December 1956.

Today, exactly fifty-five years after the line closed, I paid my respects by visiting the Museum of Liverpool‘s new gallery dedicated to the railway. The Museum is fortunate to have one of two surviving carriages from the railway (the other is held by the Suburban Electric Railway Association at their Coventry base) and this vehicle forms the centrepiece of the new exhibit. The carriage is displayed on a short replica section of elevated track, in an attempt to recreate the appearance of the railway accurately.

There are lots of interactive displays all around, including an excellent 3D scale model of Liverpool’s waterfront, showing how the railway fitted into the surrounding area. There’s also a treasure trove of memorabilia from the railway – tickets, uniforms, timetables, posters, even a guard’s whistle.

The jewel in the crown has to be the restored Carriage No.3 itself. It used to be on display in the old transport gallery of Liverpool Museum. There, visitors could only marvel at it from a distance from behind a railing. Now, however, you can go in and sit down on the famed wooden seats. They’re uncomfortable, but I suspect it would still be a better ride than a Northern Rail Pacer.

As with so many aspects of Liverpool’s history, it’s impossible not to feel a tinge of sadness for what has been lost. The city fathers of the time should hang their heads in shame for letting such a prize asset disappear. On the other hand, the steep decline of the city’s docklands in the 1970s could have killed the line anyway.

But… imagine if it had survived. Perhaps it would have been upgraded and folded into Merseyrail. Or maybe it would have been a lynchpin for the regeneration of the docklands, like London’s DLR. Would the Merseybeat musicians of the 60s have written sentimental songs about it, in the manner of Penny Lane and Ferry ‘Cross the Mersey? Today, it would certainly have been a wonderful way for visitors to see the city’s regenerated waterfront.

Unfortunately, all we’re left with is the memories, but the Museum of Liverpool can be proud of the way in which they are preserving what little remains of the Overhead Railway.

Going to the gym meant going into town, and going into town meant getting the train. Fortunately, the line and station near my house are not affected by the engineering works which have closed a big chunk of Merseyrail’s Northern Line, so I was able to get into Liverpool city centre without hassle.

I arrived at Liverpool Central for my return journey having just missed a train. This didn’t worry me – there was not long to wait until the next one and it gave me a chance to appreciate the very atypical atmosphere in the station.

Shorn of all its trains except a shuttle to Hunts Cross, the Northern Line platform was a very different place. No crowds, no pushing and shoving, no jostling at the base of the escalators. It was quiet, peaceful, serene – like the Evergreen Forest before Bert Raccoon wakes up.

The commuter part of me almost wishes it could be like this every day. But railway stations, especially major ones in the centre of town, are not supposed to be this quiet. Seeing Central like this, almost deserted on a busy shopping day, actually made me quite sad.

Britain faces a Christmas holiday railway shutdown with virtually no trains for almost 60 hours from 5pm on Christmas Eve.

Leaving aside the blatant lie (most services don’t start winding down until after 8pm on Christmas Eve), this isn’t really news, is it? The Christmas shutdown is a tradition going back many years, all the way back to the days of British Rail. And why is Metro making a big deal out of it now when the Christmas trains info has been published on National Rail’s web site for weeks?

There is a prober debate to be had about public transport provision over the Christmas period (the lack of Merseyrail on Boxing Day is often an inconvenience for me) but Metro – like its stable-mate the Daily Mail – is more interested in unconstructive whining.

Incidentally, the rail network doesn’t shut down entirely for two days: there will be teams of engineering staff out and about, taking advantage of two days without trains to do some serious work. For example, on 25th and 26th December 2004 the new footbridge over the West Coast Main Line at Liverpool South Parkway was craned into position, while this year Network Rail are replacing a bridge at Sandhills (although the work is too much for two days, so there are rail replacement buses a-plenty for Northern Line passengers on the 27th and 28th).

Unfortunately, my return to blogging today is motivated by some bad news I received from the Friends of the 502 Group, a society I have been involved with since its inception.

We are a group of railway enthusiasts who have custody of two vintage electric train carriages. These two vehicles represent the the last surviving example of the Class 502 trains which ran on what is now Merseyrail’s Northern Line for the best part of 40 years. The 502s were built between 1939 and 1941 and were an early pioneer of features such as automatic sliding doors and the seating layout which became the de facto standard for suburban trains in the UK for the next 50 years. As such they are an important piece of British railway history and need to be saved for posterity.

Unfortunately we now find ourselves without a home as we have been asked to vacate the premises by our current landlords. The full story is over at the Friends of the 502 Group blog, but to summarise: we need money (a lot of it), and soon. We have just twelve weeks to raise £4,000.

We have an online donation page. Any amount, no matter how small, would be appreciated.

Here endeth the begging.

I once wrote to Jim’ll Fix It. I can’t remember exactly when, but it must have been towards the end of the show’s run when it was being flung out in graveyard slots.

My request was, in retrospect, quite unambitious. I didn’t want to have tea on a roller coaster or appear in a specially-written Doctor Who mini-episode. No, I just wanted to ride in the cab of a train.

Not an exciting train like an HST or Flying Scotsman, mind, but a common or garden class 507. I did go so far as to specify the journey I wanted: Southport to Liverpool – presumably worried that the BBC would try to penny pinch and send me to Kirkby.

I think what I really wanted was a drivers-eye view of the Link tunnel, an ambition I later (sort of) realised by purchasing a Merseyrail cab ride video. The video was disappointing as the tunnel section was just 10 minutes of pitch darkness and loud echoey rumbling noises (with a caption “Paradise Junction” helpfully superimposed over the blackness at one point).

Where was I? Oh yes – I misspelled the word “often” on my letter, and I remember Mum told me to leave it uncorrected as it would make me look like a sweet innocent child, rather than the obnoxious smart-arse I already was by the age of seven. Bless.

I never got on Jim’ll Fix It, which was probably a good thing, as appearing on national television with the nation’s favourite slightly odd uncle character would surely have added to my already bulging package of childhood neuroses.

I think it’s safe to say that the introduction of Oyster was nothing less than a revolution in ticketing. With online and automatic topup options available, the days of queueing at ticket offices to pay public transport fares are a distant memory for most Londoners.

I have, therefore, been eagerly awaiting the long-threatened launch of Merseytravel’s equivalent technology. I was excited this summer by the sight of smartcard readers appearing on the ticket barriers at Merseyrail’s major stations for the use of bewildered pensioners travelling on free passes.

Until now though, it was not known when non-coffin dodgers would be able to get their hands on one. Well, the wait is over and the next phase of the rollout has begun. From today, commuters renewing their all-zone Trio ticket will not get the date-stamp-on-a-sticker which has been the standard issue for years. Instead, they will be issued with their ticket on a new Merseytravel-branded smartcard: Walrus.

Yes, Walrus.

I’m not quite sure what the thinking is: I think it’s an attempt to continue the sea-based theme (after Hong Kong’s Octopus and Oyster), as well as enabling a slew of “I am the Walrus” puns. Yes, it’s Liverpool, so it has to be the fucking Beatles again. At least the marketing people came up with something slightly more imaginative than Ticket to Ride.

Merseytravel have a nice little web site about the card complete with a video which tries really hard to sell the branding. It nearly won me over with “Walrus in your wallet”, but by that point I was already annoyed by the narrator talking about topping up the card, “or feeding the Walrus as I like to call it.” (aargh!)

I have plenty of time to get used to the name: if the rollout plan is adhered to, I (as a monthly season ticket holder) won’t get my hands on a Walrus until Autumn 2012. The final phase – Oyster-style pay-as-you-go – will not be completed until 2013.

I will grudgingly admit to liking the design of the card, with the Walrus “tusks” which also bring to mind the livery design on the outer ends of Merseyrail trains.

It’s surely going to be a great boon to the travelling public. But oh, the name!

The Government says that this is necessary to reduce state subsidies and provide funds for investment in the railways. However, if the government was really serious about reducing the burden on the taxpayer, it would acknowledge the elephant in the room: British railway privatisation has failed.

When I say failed, I mean it has failed to deliver any of the wonderful benefits that we were promised. We were promised freedom from state control – in practice, Department for Transport civil servants now micromanage nearly every aspect of today’s railway. We were promised more value for the taxpayer – state subsidies for the railway have increased dramatically. We were promised better services – the results have been inconsistent at best, and the improvements that have taken place could have been achieved by British Rail, had the political will and funding been there.

What is so frustrating is that the Labour government could have easily fixed this. By the time Labour swept into power in May 1997, the privatisation process was almost complete. However, with their huge majority, Labour could have easily reversed the privatisation. The Government could have taken the drastic step of legislating to immediately renationalise, or it could have taken the easier option of letting each franchise run its course and renationalising each as it came to an end. Had they done this, by now most of the railway would have been back under state control.

Sadly, the Labour party desperately wanted to avoid being seen as an anti-business, socialist party, so the privatised railway structure remained largely intact with only some minor tweaking. Now the Tories are back in charge, and more wide-ranging reform will probably happen – reform that will almost certainly not benefit the average fare-paying passenger.

It’s fairly mundane stuff, until you get halfway down the page and find this little nugget (click to enlarge):-

The phrase “railway undertaker” conjures up an image of a funeral director who loads coffins into the 0821 to Southport. I suspect however, it means undertaker in the sense of “an undertaking” – i.e. a railway company. Presumably there is some arcane law which requires specific reference to be made to “railway undertakers”.

It’s yet another legacy of how important the railways were in the good old days – I suspect there are thousands of these laws still on the statute books.

I found it amusing, but maybe I should be worried about the staff at Aigburth station going to the toilet – if the sewers are not maintained by United Utilities, where does the waste go?

It’s such a special occasion that it warrants a whole new blog, so I proudly present: The Station Master! This is a new project of mine, aiming to visit the obscure and forgotten nooks and crannies of the UK rail network. It will either blossom and grow into something special, or I will update it twice and forget about it. Still, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it. My first proper post (about Reddish South and Denton) is up now.

Comments here are closed – please head over to The Station Master blog and comment there.