I’ve been lucky enough to seen a few of the supposedly ‘great’ buildings of world – the Sydney Opera House, the Empire State Building, Sagrada Familia and a few others; all of them affected me in some way or another. However, after almost six years (Six? Seven? I loose track) of passing it on a nearly daily basis, I’ve decided that my favourite building has to be St Pancras station on the Euston Road in London.
For what is basically a big shed this building has it all; romance, drama, bricks, an amazing bar, and, of course trains. To my mind, the only thing missing is a resident ghost or ghoul of some sort.
I was pondering on this as I cycled past this afternoon, and realised that what London really needs (never mind a working transport network, decent weather, or even less bankers!) is an emblematic monster – and where better for it to reside than right there, up amongst the mighty towers and glorious spires of the old Station?
And who better? What we need is a cockney Quasimodo; a hideous, yet ultimately loveable, walking deformity, who we can all get behind and call our own. Perhaps Boris Johnson could be persuaded to fulfill this role? He seems to have all the required physical and mental traits, and despite the possibility of his hair obscuring his view as he lopes from tower to tower, I think he’s agile enough to clamber up there.
What better welcome for our European cousins, freshly arrived on the Eurostar, than to gaze up onto the loathsome beast, skulking in the shadows of the vaulted arches…”Sacrebleu!” they’d exclaim, or perhaps “Joder! Que es eso?”
“That?” we’d smile knowingly, as we went about our day, “That’s just Boris. Our very own monster”