October 4th

 

the railway arches

scrubbed of their coal blackened past

the dead builders craft

Every time I visit St Pancras station, I notice something new, whether I’m inside or out, there is always some detail, a little embellishment. I wish I took a photo, but I was in a rush so I can’t share it with you, on my next visit though, then yes.

Today I saw how beautifully clean the arches were, which now house cafes and shops. Also, some Victorian mosaics, restored and gleaming, high up near the new glass roof.

The work put in to make St Pancras so modern, yet sympathetic to the age in which it was built, is to be applauded.

I felt kind of sad, as I guess that many people died making such a magnificent structure back in the day, then my mind wanders, who remembers people like this? Their families did I’m sure, but are they commemorated in any way? Or is their memory lost to time.

August 18th

slender chimney stacks

gothic fume blackened brickthroats

parched in the star blaze

It was too hot to get the train, so me and D walked back from Arsenal to St Pancras, down the Caledonian Road, towards Pentonville. This was the area my parents first lived in when they came to England.

It was a relief when we finally saw the myriad chimneys of St Pancras station over the rooftops. What a building. So glad it’s still there, such a landmark, so beautiful.

July 12th

 

furnaces belching

ghost trees stand in factories

watch their bodies burn

I visited the British Library after work, conveniently it’s pretty much next door to the gothic beauty of St Pancras station, where I get my train home.

The current exhibition Writing Britain, Wastelands to Wonderlands is well worth a visit. The curators have selected some absolute treasures of the British Library collection from the genius of British and Irish writing. it celebrates the land through the beauty of the words written in honour (or more rarely, in spite) of it.

It’s inspiring and almost overwhelming, the complete list of works is available here. It’s a powerful testament to this land.

My Haiku quotes a tiny element of a longer poem I’ve written on my other blog. It humbly references one of the themes of the exhibition, the loss of green places to the spread of industrialisation.

The British library’s promotional vid/intro to exhibition

January 11th

Popped into the British Library on the way home. I feel proud that we have such an institution. With an aspiration to collect all of the books ever published, much like the great Library at Alexandria, one of the ancient wonders of the world, before it was razed.

As it’s right near St Pancras station, I sometimes dwell there while I’m waiting for my train home. Enjoy tea and cake whilst making use of the free wi-fi, catching up on work or creative writing. Mostly, I mooch around the exhibits. It’s just incredible. I’ll probably write a proper blog about it someday. At the moment, there is a an temporary exhibition on Charles Dickens. The permanent exhibition “The Treasures” is also astonishing, with the collection rotated every now and then to see more great works or hand written drafts by the authors themselves. And the books are stacked high, mighty towers of books in secure glass, shelves upon shelves, visible from pretty much every part of the central atrium.

There is a copy of the Magna Carta there too. Incredible. This is an artefact that defines our country. Where King John was forced into concessions, where the rule of one was challenged, where human rights were asserted. This clause, the most famous, is still law today (from 1215).

“No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of his rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled . nor will we proceed with force against him . except by the lawful judgement of his equals or by the law of the land. To no one will we sell, to no one deny or delay right or justice”

Right, the Haiku!

 

Visitations, Ghosts,

Fragile firsts, frayed, dulled, precious,

Dragon scales tower.

 

A copy of “The Cock Lane Ghost” which forms part of the Dickens Exhibition (hastily photographed as I wasn’t sure whether it was allowed or not, there’s definitely no photography in the “Treasures” area and definitely no flash photography anywhere). It refers to a widely reported ghost story in the 18th Century. Dickens was fond of “real” ghost stories (and this one in particular) but was a bit of a sceptic himself. That didn’t stop him using supernatural themes throughout his work.