Colindale
Oh, the miseries of the Northern Line! As I write this, I am mentally preparing for yet another painful tube experience as I and those other poor souls who need to use the Northern line beyond Hampstead limp our way along the unloved tracks. My destination, of course, is Colindale, a place to which many postgraduates must make a pilgrimage during their doctoral years, sipping the insipid machine coffee, shivering in the over-zealous air-con, and hoping no-one will notice the tiny tearing sounds every time they turn a newspaper page (whoops!). Ah yes, what joy it is. Trouble is, though, that at least for my work (interwar British political culture), local newspapers are a totally fabulous source, and there really is no choice but to endure to privations of zone three. Digitisation of the Times is great, and roll on the Guardian, Telegraph, Daily Mail etc. But who, seriously is going to want to digitise the Leicester Mercury? Or the Brighton Gazette? Or the Middlesex County Standard? For these, I fear, it will be Colindale for many years to come...
posted by Helen @ 8:18 AM
4 Comments:
At 1:42 PM,
Kate said…
Colindale's in Zone Four. If you've been buying a Zone Three ticket, watch it cos if they catch you there's a £20 fine, missy!
At 4:34 PM,
Helen said…
Yeah, I realised I'd under-estimated the remoteness of Colindale when I stepped on to the tube. I'm on pre-pay Oyster these days, so it feels like I'm not paying anything (it's TfL's equivalent of the high street store card). Still, pretty much perfect tube journey today, so I got there half an hour too early which I spent drinking nasty coffee in the naff cafe across the way in the company of burly construction workers.
At 11:41 AM,
Michael said…
Even for a fan like me of London suburbs, including many of the seedier ones from Penge to Ponders End, I must admit, Helen, that my heart sinks at the prospect of another visit to Colindale. But like you, I have chosen to read local newspapers over the next few years, although personally I like contact with the original versions as I turn the pages on the hardwood rests. Until I got used to the rules of the archive, I bridled in the face of the 1970s ‘public service’ ethos that still lives on amongst some of the established staff: ‘No, you’re four minutes too late to order that, but you can come back tomorrow’. And as you have discovered, the naff caff opposite offers only brief consolation because its enterprising menu caters only for an unhealthy diet. Mind you, I have not yet taken advantage of what the 1960s style mini-bar may have to offer.
At 11:16 PM,
Helen said…
Yes, I imagine ordering a beverage or two from what must be a prop from Abigail's Party would brighten the experience considerably. I know what you mean about the unionised feel - although several of the staff have been very helpful with showing me how to rotate the microfilm reader and letting me reserve items for longer than the standard 2 days. In fact, for me, once I'm there, the process has been smooth. It's just getting there that can often be such an endurance test. But perhaps we'll save the perils of the Northern line for a future posting...
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