Inside the new Crossrail Canary Wharf Station


One of the attractions of attending the preview for the new Tunnel: The archaeology of Crossrail exhibition at the Museum of London Docklands was that it offered a possibility for some people to have a look inside the new Canary Wharf Crossrail Station. The upper 3 floors of the station including retail, roof garden and restaurants have been open since 2015, however the lower sections are still being fitted out and access is limited to the occasional special event or open day.

The station is one of the most unusual in London because it has been created by sinking a 250 metre-long station box into waters of West India Quay dock. The station facilities are 18 metres below water level which has presented a number of challenges.  


Arriving in the lower levels, the first surprise is the size of the station ticket hall which will be accessed via eight long-rise escalators from the promenade level entrances at either end of the building.


The concourse is 185 metres long and is very similar in design to the main Canary Wharf station with large open spaces.


The platforms are even longer at 241 metres long and will provide plenty of space to passengers.


The platforms are still being worked upon, but a sneak preview of the track and tunnel gives some idea of the scale.


One interesting fact is the station footprint which at 256m long is slightly longer than the height of One Canada Square which stands over the station.


Trains running on the Elizabeth Line will start from the new Canary Wharf station in December 2018. Trains will terminate at Paddington in the west and Abbey Wood in the east.

When the route fully opens in December 2019, a train every five minutes at peak time will allow passengers to travel all the way through to Paddington, Heathrow or Reading in the west and Abbey Wood in the east.

It is important to realise that these types of engineering undertakings are once in a lifetime and Crossrail will be considered to one of the great engineering achievements of the early 21st century. I have written posts about the nearby Thames Tunnel and Blackwall Tunnel which were considered wonders of their time.

Tunnel: The Archaeology of Crossrail at the Museum of London Docklands from 10th February to 3rd September 2017


Regular readers will know that I am often intrigued by tunnels and have written about the Thames and Blackwall tunnels. Therefore it was with a great deal of anticipation that I attended the preview for the latest exhibition at the  Museum of London Docklands. The exhibition is entitled Tunnel: The Archaeology of Crossrail and explores the wide range of archaeological objects unearthed by Crossrail .

Many people may be aware of Crossrail, Europe’s largest infrastructure project, but few people will realise that since work began in 2009, the project has undertaken one of the most extensive archaeological programmes ever in the UK, with over 10,000 artefacts found covering almost every important period of the Capital’s history.


The construction of London’s newest railway, which will be known as the Elizabeth Line has sliced through London from East to West and gone through many layers of London’s history.

Some of the finds include:

Prehistoric flints found in North Woolwich, showing evidence for Mesolithic tool making 8,000 years ago

Tudor bowling ball found at the site of the Tudor King John’s Court manor house in Stepney Green

Roman iron horse shoes found near Liverpool Street Station

Medieval animal bone skates found near Liverpool Street Station

Late 19th century ginger and jam jars from the site of the Crosse & Blackwell bottling factory near Tottenham Court Road station

Human remains including one of the skeletons found near Liverpool Street Station from the 17th century Bedlam cemetery, which a DNA has shown died from the Plague.


Just before you enter the main part of the exhibition, there is a statue of St Barbara who is associated with explosives and lightning. She is the patron saint of miners and tunnellers and despite all the high tech equipment, the people on the Crossrail construction took the statue down one of the shafts for good luck.


The exhibition follows the trail of the Elizabeth Line and features highlights from each section. Of particular interest in our local area were the digs at Pudding Mill Lane that looked at some of the old industries on the River Lea, The old Thames Ironworks site near Canning Town was explored and a number of finds like iron chains and brickworks was found.


Digging under Canary Wharf, part of a woolly mammoth’s jaw bone was found and a fragment of amber that was estimated to be 55 million years old. Both items are currently being analysed at the Natural History Museum.


Some objects at Stepney Green are from the Tudor period when it was the location of many large mansions for the wealthy.


The exhibition illustrates some of the problems of archaeology with the mystery of the Walbrook skulls which are from different periods but were all found together.


As well as the archaeological finds, large screens show how the massive engineering project of Crossrail burrowed its way beneath the London city streets and beyond.

This fascinating exhibition is without doubt one of the biggest and most comprehensive exhibitions held at the Museum of Docklands and is well worth a visit. The exhibition is free and runs until September 2017.

The SS Robin Returns Home


Around three years ago, I posted the remarkable story of the SS Robin which has been located in the Royal Docks. I am delighted to report that plans have been announced to move the ship to Trinity Buoy Wharf, close to where she was built in 1890. Urban Space Management, leaseholders of Trinity Buoy Wharf, have agreed to maintain the SS Robin and to make her story more accessible to the public alongside other important ships.  

It is planned that the collection of the SS Robin, and the tugs Knocker White and Varlet and lighter Diana will form the basis of an open air museum to help bring to life the rich heritage of the area from East India Dock Basin to Trinity Buoy Wharf.  For the past few years the tugs Knocker White and Varlet have been berthed near the Museum of Docklands in West India Quay.


The SS Robin is the world’s oldest complete steam coaster and the last of her type in the world. The Dirty British Coaster was immortalised in John Masefield’s poem ” Cargoes .”

Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,

Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,

With a cargo of ivory,

And apes and peacocks,

Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.


Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,

Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,

With a cargo of diamonds,

Emeralds, amythysts,

Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.


Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,

Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,

With a cargo of Tyne coal,

Road-rails, pig-lead,

Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.


The British coastal cargo steamships were the workhorses of the Merchant fleet in the late 19th, early 20th Century around the ports of Britain and Northern Europe. However by the 1960s they had virtually disappeared.

SS Robin is a traditional raised quarterdeck coastal cargo steamer built in Orchard House Yard near the famous Thames Ironworks on the eastern tip of Isle of Dogs and launched in 1890.

She was built to high standards regarding materials and workmanship with her hull fitted out in East India Dock. From there she was taken to Dundee to have her boiler and engines fitted. After trials she was taken to Liverpool to begin her career as a coastal steamer in 1890.

For the next ten years she plied her trade around the ports of Britain and occasionally some of the continental ports carrying the heavy cargoes such as coal, steel and china clay for which the steamers became famous for.

However in 1900, she was sold to a Spanish owner who renamed her Maria and spent the next 70 odd years going up and down the North Atlantic coast, she survived Two World Wars, once getting an escort from the French Navy to protect her from U Boat attacks.

But then at the end of a hard working life and due to be scrapped, there was another twist of fate she was recognised by the Maritime Trust as a one of a kind and in 1974 was purchased and travelled back to Britain under her own steam.

From 1974 she was given her original name back and moored in St Katherine’s Dock and her restoration began. In 1991 she moved to West India Quay where between 2003-2007 she was used as an Education Centre and Gallery.


However more structural restoration was needed, so in 2008 she went back to the coast this time to Lowestoft to prepare for her latest reincarnation in the Royal Docks where she returned in 2011.

 She may still be a Dirty British Coaster of John Masefield’s poem but now she is in elite company. She’s part of the National Historic Fleet and one of only three ‘Core Collection’ (Grade 1) vessels in the capital. The other two ships are the Cutty Sark and HMS Belfast.

Although the SS Robin is considered too fragile to be able to float again, she and the other boats will be a wonderful reminder to visitors to the Trinity Buoy Wharf area of the long and glorious history of shipbuilding in the area.

Orchard Place : From London’s ‘lost village’ to Mini Manhattan – Update 


Whilst I have been watching the developments around Canary Wharf and the Isle of Dogs with some interest, there is another development at Orchard Place which is beginning to take shape. In a post in 2014, I reported that a new bridge had been built across from Orchard Place to Canning Town station. Since then buildings have appeared on the City Island site and ‘Mini Manhattan’ is becoming a reality. 


Residential living has not taken place on this small piece of ground since the 1930s when it was the location of a small population of around 300 people for over a century.


Because of its location, it is effectively cut off by water, surrounded by Bow Creek and the Thames with just a narrow path going to Leamouth Road and the small settlement of people in Orchard Place felt they were cut off from the Isle of Dogs and Poplar.

orchard pl

 In the 1930s an old resident explained “From its start to the present, we have never had either a butcher, baker, barber, post office, police Station, fire Station or pawn Shop, or seen a tramway or bus in our neighbourhood, so we have to do all our domestic business in Poplar, via Leamouth Road, which is a long and lonely walk, especially by night.”

Many people in Poplar and the Isle of Dogs did not even know Orchard Place existed and those that did probably heard stories about the resident’s lawlessness and rough lifestyle.

0rcchard 444

Many of the residents in Orchard Place  were related and worked in the various factories and shipyards, however the Thames Plate Glass Works was a major employer in the 19th century when it was estimated that 75% of the Orchard Place adult residents worked there.

At its height of popularity, Orchard Place had around 100 two-storied cottages but by the 1930s that had been reduced to around 50. The cottages were never that strongly built and were prone to flooding in the lower rooms. However it was the great flood of 1928 which devastated the dwellings and even though people still lived in them into the 1930s, newspaper reports of the time reported on the scandal of the living conditions and labelled the area “London’s Lost village.”

Eventually the residents were rehoused in nearby Oban House in Poplar and the houses demolished and land used for various industrial use.


Considering its history, it is with some irony that the City Island has been built to foster a ‘community feel’ with gardens and leisure facilities. The old Orchard Place residents had a very strong community but few facilities.

Despite the development of Trinity Buoy Wharf as an Art Quarter, this particular area still feels strangely distant from the main areas of Poplar, Canary Wharf and the Isle of Dogs. It remains to be seen whether the land which was the location of  “London’s Lost village” will finally be popular with a new generation of residents.

The Story of the Silvertown Explosion – 19th January 1917


(c) Museum of London

I recently contacted by the Museum of Docklands who are making available some photographs that illustrated some of the aftermath of the Silvertown Explosion of January 19th 1917. Knowing little about the disaster, I decided to undertake some research and came across the following newspaper report from 1935 which includes a harrowing eye-witness account of the disaster by Fireman James Betts who was awarded the King’s Medal for bravery.

The Story of the Silvertown Explosion

Eighteen years ago to-day London had a narrow escape from being blown sky-high when the Silvertown explosion occurred.

Ex-Fireman James Joseph Betts, a survivor, who was awarded the King’s Medal for bravery, described in the London “Sunday Express” the following story of what happened on that terrible evening.

It was ten minutes to seven; a chilly, starry night on January 19th 1917. The war had dragged on for two and a half years. I was on night duty with a number of others of the brigade at Silvertown Fire Station in Poplar.

On every side loomed the black shapes of factories. Behind screened, windows — for every precaution was taken in those days of air raids, and not a light showed — vast armies of war workers were engaged on  their various tasks of turning out munitions, food, and clothing for the troops. Opposite the fire station was the munitions factory of Messrs. Brunner Mond, Limited. Behind it the flour mills of W. Vernon and Sons. A little to the east were the oil refineries of Silvertown Lubricants, Limited, and the saw-mill and creosote works of Messrs. Burt, Boulton and Haywood. To the west stretched the sugar factory of Messrs Lyle, Limited.

Nearly 5,000 workers were there in all — hundreds of them women and girls who were “doing their bit” in the absence at the front of husbands, fathers, sons and sweethearts. Perhaps the most important of these factories was that of Messrs. Brunner Mond, for it was here that, night and day, the ceaseless task of manufacturing shells and armaments was taking place. The hourly cry from the front was “More munitions.”

Not the least important branch of this vital work of munitions making was carried out in the chemical laboratories which lay a little away from the main works. These were the “danger” buildings, where high explosives were manufactured. From all sides came the din of racing machinery, the mournful treble whine of sawmills, and the rattle of cranes as the barges lying in the adjacent Thames were loaded. Pedestrians hurried past the fire station to and from their work, for it was about the hour when shifts were changed. Children carrying baskets of provisions and enamel tea-cans containing the evening meals of parents working overtime, hastened on their way. There was in the air the electrical tension brought about by high-speed production in an urgent cause.

General view of "A", "B", "C" & "D" silos, Royal Victoria Dock,

General view of “A”, “B”, “C” “D” silos, Royal Victoria Dock
John H Avery © PLA Collection / Museum of London

Suddenly, without warning, a bright orange tongue of flame shot up from the very heart of the Brunner Mond works high into the air, all the more vivid on account of the enveloping blackness of the night. Into the station rushed one of the men. “Brunner Mond’s is alight!” he shouted. None knew better than we the terrible implications conveyed by that brief warning. For, once those rising flames reached the danger, buildings, there was little hope for the lives and property in the vicinity.

There was, too, a further danger, for besides the vast quantity of T.N.T. contained in the “danger” building there lay on the permanent way that ran close to the building four railway trucks containing enough of the deadly stuff to” blow up half London.

Within a few seconds fire alarms rang through the station, and our chief immediately rapped out orders.

We rushed to get out the escape and the pump. There was not a second to lose if we were to quell the fire and avert an explosion. But I felt it was such a forlorn hope that I yelled to my wife who, with our twelve-year-old son, lived in the quarters behind the station. Get out of it, Polly, for God’s sake. We’re all going up in a minute!”

The next second we were tearing across the road into Brunner Mond’s yard. Outside the fire station people stood transfixed as though fascinated by that now fiercely burning building across the way. Others were fleeing helter-skelter anyhow, anywhere from that flaring presage of imminent danger, yelling warnings as they went. Some lay flat, on their, faces on the pavement, some prayed against the walls of the street.

As we entered the factory gates we were met by the flying figure of the timekeeper, a burly Scotsman. “Run for it, mate, we’ll be gone in a minute,” he yelled to me as he almost staggered past, hatless, distraught, his face distorted by a terrible fear.

They were his last words. Then it was as though heaven and gravity plunged to meet the earth in a shattering upheaval. In one second the whole world seemed to have crumbled. It might have been seconds, minutes, hours before I next remembered. I was lying on my back on a piece of waste ground 200 feet from the spot where I and other firemen had been fixing the hose ready to play on the flames.

45 feet girder near silo loading shed, Royal Victoria Dock, foll

45 feet girder near silo loading shed, Royal Victoria Dock
John H Avery © PLA Collection / Museum of London

Around me was a vast plain of rubble. The factory had gone. There were fearful sounds in the air, the screams of injured women and children, the groans of those imprisoned under debris, the rattle of rafters and girders being feverishly overturned by rescuers who had rushed to the shattered area, the shrill resonance of ambulance bells, the imperious clang of fire alarms, the roar of flames. On every side great fires were blazing.

In all nine factories and mills had caught alight, ignited by red-hot iron girders, flung sky-high by the explosion, falling in their midst. Something of tire terrific force of the explosion can be imagined when I tell you that parts of our fire-engine were found a quarter of a mile away, smashed and twisted beyond recognition.

Enormous boilers were hurled into the air and landed several streets away. Houses we’re left with cracking walls, windows gone, doors blown in, and roofs with gaping holes. In places which received the full force of the explosion it was as though a giant pestle had descended from the heavens and pounded them to powder.

Every building in London was shaken. Half a million windows in shops and houses across the river a mile away at Charlton and South Woolwich were broken. The explosion was heard in districts as far apart as Salisbury and King’s Lynn. Meanwhile the surrounding factories burned fiercely, and the task of rescuing workers in their blazing depths began.

Every available fire-engine and escape from all parts of London converged on Silvertown. It was a grim and awe-inspiring scene.- For , three or four hours after the explosion the whole of London was lit by the flames.

The fire area itself was an astonishing spectacle. Imagine an arc of towering, flat-faced factories, with row upon row of windows. At that moment they were as if they had been filled with burning coal. Every window opening glared like an iron furnace when the doors are opened.

Through long cracks in the walls long flames waved out like fiery serpents. Now a great fragment of iron — it looked as large as a cottage roof — would slide down the sides of the glowing pile. Towards the river another great factory blazed fiercely. Its windows appeared like a series of white-hot ingots. To the right the widespread frame of a row of timber sheds resembled a great main line railway station afire. The scene seemed unreal.

There were these towering bonfires of light spread out across the black landscape, and as their flames leaped up to the sky they threw into relief the broken shells of rows of houses — streets without windows and, what was more, without inhabitants. Some were dead — no one knew yet how many. The rest were gone — anywhere away from that scene of death and destruction.

High overhead poured vast clouds of smoke. Beneath them from the flour mills, where several hundred girls had been at work, came flying showers of millions of tiny particles of light as though a sweeping storm of sleet had become incandescent. No doubt these tiny specks were the glowing ashes of a myriad grains of wheat carried up into the sky by the waves of flame. It was like a golden rainstorm.

The firemen and their apparatus were almost helpless against conflagrations of such number and magnitude.. For days afterwards the heaps of debris in the midst of the mere shells of these mills and factories that remained were smouldering. Weeks afterwards when the task of clearing .away the wreckage began,the workers. came across red-hot  embers deep down among the piles of debris.

While the great battle against the fires, was being waged. By firemen, a large arm of helpers was helping to extricate the dead, and injured from the wreckage of their homes.

The heaps of ruins which had been houses were slowly explored. It was like scraping and scratching among great rubbish heaps. Sometimes a distracted mother in search of a missing child would push herself to the forefront of a group of searchers and herself claw at the pile of rubble in a frenzy of apprehension until her fingers bled.

Such scenes were frequent. One of the bodies dug out of the wreckage was that of a young clerk engaged in a large sugar refinery, one of the factories set ablaze. This youth had run from the factory to the manager’s house close by to warn him of the fire. As he was knocking at the door the explosion occurred, and the wall of the house collapsed and buried him.

One woman was putting her babies to bed when the explosion occurred. She rushed out with them, and in her terror ran on and on till she was taken in by some kindly people, at whose house she stayed. A number became mentally unhinged by the shock. One lad’s blood turned to water. He died six months later. My wife was rendered stone deaf: One encountered at every turn stories of simple heroism and human fortitude in the face of this terrible calamity..

There were tales of rescues by those who themselves were seriously injured. One man dragged four badly injured young children from the wreckage of a demolished house, and it was not until afterwards, when he suddenly sank into unconsciousness, that those around realised that he had himself lost a foot. .

There was one brave girl, Norah Griffiths, who helped to hold up a roof that would otherwise have fallen and crushed to death a number of young children attending a Band of Hope meeting at a local mission hall.

People divested themselves of their outer garments, despite the bitterly cold weather, in order to wrap up the shivering forms of homeless children, scores of whom had been separated from their parents in the darkness and confusion.

In every street stood groups of stranded people, gazing ruefully at what once had been their homes. In many cases the roofs and the bed rooms had just disappeared. Only parts of the walls of the downstairs were now left. These rooms were no longer rooms. They had no ceilings. Their fronts had vanished.

One of the most immediate and pressing problems was the housing of the homeless. The Salvation Army did wonderful work. It established buildings and provided food and hot drinks. A nearby chapel was hastily converted into a creche, and hundreds of children were found shelter. Some of the victims sought refuge further afield, at the house of relatives and charitable institutions.

With the coming of dawn there were still hundreds of homeless ones, weary and pale-faced, trudging the dismal streets. The entire district was cut off by a military guard and police forces. And through this cordon passed streams of refugees from the stricken area in search of food and sleep. Some clutched the glass vases which had adorned their mantelpieces, for in many cases it seemed to have been the most fragile articles that had escaped injury. Others carried clothes baskets filled with personal trifles salved from the ruins of their homes. Everyone seemed to bear a load of some sort — trunks, sacks, bundles, even treasures hastily wrapped in sheets and blankets. Some wheeled perambulators loaded with household goods.

And hundreds who had fled from the place as soon as they had overcome the great, shocks of the explosion begged a night’s lodging a few miles away tramped back to see what they could salvage from the wreckage of their former homes.

How little the world at large knew of this and a score of other similar war-time disasters, involving loss of life and injury among the civilian population! Seventy-four lives had been lost, nearly a thousand maimed and injured. The place which had been a munitions works was a waste of black desolation. Nearly a dozen factories and mills had been destroyed.

Thousands of houses were wiped out. Hundreds of people were rendered homeless. The damage amounted to £1,212,661. There were third-party claims running into several million pounds sterling. A dozen people living in the immediate vicinity of the explosion were never seen again. This terrible story of death and destruction was told to the world in the following prosaic announcement which appeared in the daily newspapers.

“The Ministry of Munitions regret to announce that an explosion occurred this evening at a munitions factory in the neighbourhood of London. It is feared that the explosion was attended by considerable loss of life and damage to property.

The official line of the authorities was to suppress much of the information about the disaster. There were rumours that the explosion was due to sabotage by enemy agents and the government did not want to give any credit to the Germans. This media blackout led to a number of theories about what had happened, it was not until the 1950s that information came to light that suggested that a small fire had set off the explosives to devastating effect. The 1950s report also criticised the authorities for allowing munitions to be manufactured in a dense residential area.  For much of the 20th century, the disaster was written out of history and therefore we can hope that the centenary of the event raises awareness of the people who died and suffered in one of London’s worst explosions.

If you would like to see the available photographs at the Museum of London Docklands, visit the website here

Opening of the Winter Lights Festival in Canary Wharf – 16th to 27th January 2017


Canary Wharf may be full of bright lights but the launch of the Winter Lights Festival offers some 30 spectacular light installations throughout Canary Wharf. To sample what is available, I had a wander around some of the installations on the first evening.


The sculptures, structures and installations are the creations of some of the most innovative artists and designers from around the world who present work in the many different forms of light technology.


Ovo – Montgomery Square.


Angels of Freedom – Throughout Canary Wharf


Horizontal Interference – Westferry Circus


Lightbench – Canada Square Park


Water Wall – Adams Plaza


Liter of Light draws attention to world issues highlighting the need to give light to undeveloped countries in a work co-created by children from George Green’s School on the Isle of Dogs.

The illuminations will be in different locations throughout Canary Wharf  and you can download the brochure here to find out more about the festival and the whole list of illuminations and locations.

Winter Lights Festival in Canary Wharf – 16th to 27th January 2017


After the excitement of the festive period, January can often seem gloomy but the return of the Winter Lights Festival offers some light related excitement with 30 spectacular light installations throughout Canary Wharf.


The sculptures, structures and installations are the creations of some of the most innovative artists and designers from around the world who present work in the many different forms of light technology. Many of the pieces have never been exhibited in the UK before such as Angels of Freedom that contains a deep underlying message, discouraging discrimination through interaction.


OVO which immerses visitors in unique and beautiful light structures, whilst On Your Wavelength is a mind-powered laser and sound installation using participants’ brain activity to choreograph beautiful light patterns.


Live graffiti crafted from light is on show over the weekend of 21st and 22nd January with Luma Paint Light Graffiti and Nonotak perform live on 20th and 21st January. Other highlights include Water Wall which uses a mist screen to interact with visitors as they create beautiful patterns on a wall of water. For contemplation, The Garden of Floating Words conjures a peaceful note giving the impression that a cluster of glowing neon words are floating in the foliage creating a poem of transience. Liter of Light draws attention to world issues highlighting the need to give light to undeveloped countries in a work co-created by local schoolchildren.


The illuminations will be in different locations throughout Canary Wharf  and you can download the brochure here to find out more about the festival and the whole list of illuminations and  locations.

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