Short-Platform Syndrome
How long should a train platform be? In 1977, Gloucester became the proud owner of the longest in the country when British Rail remodelled it to be able to accommodate two InterCity 125 trains at the same time. It is now an impressive 1,977 feet long, dwarfing our smallest station, Berney Arms in Norfolk, which is basically a pub in the middle of marshy fields with a station attached.
Like 150 other destinations along the 9,941 miles of rail network, Berney Arms is a ‘rail request stop’; a quintessentially English phenomenon that allows would-be travellers to literally put their hand out and stop the train.
This wouldn’t be advisable for those keen to travel on the high-speed link from Ashford to St Pancras International. What would be advisable, however, is to make sure you are on the high-speed in the first place. A piece of advice I failed to follow when I found myself on the extremely slow one to Victoria instead. With nothing to do but read the messages on the automated display, I noticed a recurring theme. Each one of the 12 stations en route, and I include the final stop, is apparently suffering from what might be called short-platform syndrome. It was as if the Southeastern railway had put its platforms on a diet, which meant that passengers travelling in the rear four carriages could no longer get out because their doors wouldn’t open.
At first it didn’t seem unusual. Maybe Lenham, Hollingbourne, Ortford and Bearsted were all lacking in the platform department. But Maidstone East? Bromley South? Victoria itself?
Bob, the ticket collector, said it wasn’t really true that the platforms were all short – it is the drivers who decide what doors would open. It made it easier for them to keep an eye on the passengers coming and going, allowing them to get away quicker. No one liked a straggler right down the back.
He knew this because he used to be a driver. The money was good but he gave it up because it was too monotonous and the only thing to look at was the odd electrocuted badger. ‘Occasionally I would be staring ahead, in a kind of trance, and would forget to stop,’ he said. ‘Then none of the doors would open and you can’t go back.’
Next week: Boat painters
Like 150 other destinations along the 9,941 miles of rail network, Berney Arms is a ‘rail request stop’; a quintessentially English phenomenon that allows would-be travellers to literally put their hand out and stop the train.
This wouldn’t be advisable for those keen to travel on the high-speed link from Ashford to St Pancras International. What would be advisable, however, is to make sure you are on the high-speed in the first place. A piece of advice I failed to follow when I found myself on the extremely slow one to Victoria instead. With nothing to do but read the messages on the automated display, I noticed a recurring theme. Each one of the 12 stations en route, and I include the final stop, is apparently suffering from what might be called short-platform syndrome. It was as if the Southeastern railway had put its platforms on a diet, which meant that passengers travelling in the rear four carriages could no longer get out because their doors wouldn’t open.
Bob, the ticket collector, said it wasn’t really true that the platforms were all short – it is the drivers who decide what doors would open. It made it easier for them to keep an eye on the passengers coming and going, allowing them to get away quicker. No one liked a straggler right down the back.
He knew this because he used to be a driver. The money was good but he gave it up because it was too monotonous and the only thing to look at was the odd electrocuted badger. ‘Occasionally I would be staring ahead, in a kind of trance, and would forget to stop,’ he said. ‘Then none of the doors would open and you can’t go back.’
Next week: Boat painters