What should the UK do with the iron skeletons of Victorian gasworks which still tower over it?

A gasholder looming over the Oval cricket ground in London in 1956. Image: Getty.

There’s a question looming both literally and metaphorically over large parts of London: what the hell should we do with the city’s old gasholders? These hulking metal structures, also known as gasometers, have been an integral part of the capital’s skyline since the Victorian era, yet are now facing demolition because their original purpose (storing gas, duh) is now defunct.

Having gained widespread use during the 19th century, the gasholders’ reign lasted until the 1960s when, with the discovery of the North Sea natural gas reserves, gas began being transported via high pressure pipes. The holders took a backseat, only being used when extra capacity was needed. As the pipes increased in capacity, the gasworks dotted throughout UK cities slowly became obsolete. The National Grid was left with these functionally-pointless, space-consuming monsters – often in what is now prime urban real estate. Think King’s Cross, Kennington, Bethnal Green.

Once aptly described by poet Victoria Bean aptly as a “great grey lung”, it’s the “telescopic” gasometers that receive particular attention. Supported by a giant cylindrical frame, the inner-container would fluctuate in size depending on how gas-hungry the surrounding residents were. By day they would fill up and rise, and then by night they would empty and retract back into the ground.

But the lungs are no longer breathing and all we’re left with is the frame. But blimey, what frames they are. Even for those not intimidatingly enthusiastic about industrial heritage, it’s hard to deny their beauty. Classical columns connected by decorative wrought iron; just what you would expect from the Victorians. Around sunset, when their steel skeletons are silhouetted against the sky in particularly spectacular fashion, it becomes easy to see why there are 12 gasholders with listed status (of which all but one are in London). But developers are fighting for the land; eight of the capital’s other gasholders have been awarded a Certificate of Immunity, meaning they cannot be listed for the following five years – offering property developers assurance to their investment.


So once campaigners succeed in getting the treasured gasholders protected, something needs to be done with them. After all, blocking off huge swathes of land in the heart of a city clamouring for space hardly seems fair. Building within them has proved a successful option (even if the flats inside the old King’s Cross gasometers look like giant air conditioning units). Planning for the development of the Oval Gasholders – which has towered over the famous cricket ground for 150 years, and gained listed status in 2016 following a local campaign – was passed earlier this year as part of a wider project to build 1250 new homes. In a city in the midst of a housing crisis, incorporating heritage into new housing is a great idea. That said, it’d be a shame to lose all the gasworks to property developers.

With Gasholder Park, the developers behind the King’s Cross air conditioning units, have created a public space within the remains of one of the gasholders. It is the only place in London where anyone can stand in the centre of, and enjoy these peculiar treasures. The Bromley-by-Bow Gasworks, which consist of seven listed gasholders, sits empty but could make a brilliant park. This was proposed as a submission to the New London Landscape, a green infrastructure design competition, but lost out to a hare-brained scheme to add a swimming lane to Regent’s Canal.

Whatever their future – be it as housing or a public space – at least some gasholders will remain; a solemn reminder of an important chapter in London’s history.

 
 
 
 

Does it matter that TfL are renaming White Hart Lane station Tottenham Hotspur?

New White Hart Lane. Image: Getty.

Pretend for a moment that you’re travelling in the London of 1932. You’re taking the Piccadilly Line northbound and alight at Gillespie Road station. The name should be obvious: it’s inscribed in bespoke brown tiling on the platform.

But that 31 October, following an intense campaign by the eponymous football club, the London County Council changed the station’s name to Arsenal (Highbury Hill). The area’s growing association with the name “Arsenal” ended in a lengthy negotiation that changed maps, signs and train tickets alike. Football had acquired so much power that it changed the name of not just a Tube station but an entire suburb, even before the era of Wenger or the Emirates.

Now the spectre of name changes is on the horizon once again. As Tottenham Hotspur FC inches closer to completing its new stadium, the club is clamouring for a renamed Overground station. Despite the fact the new stadium is located on almost exactly the same site as the old just off White Hart Lane, and fans have long been calling the scaffolding-laden mess “New White Hart Lane”, the club’s executive director is adamant that the station’s existing name cannot stand. White Hart Lane station, on the Overground line leaving Liverpool Street, is set to be renamed “Tottenham Hotspur”, at a cost to the club of £14.7m.

Little has been made of the fact that this peculiar PR kerfuffle is tied to Spurs’ failure to convince Nike to sponsor the venue. Some sources have even claimed that the sponsorship is yet to be finalised because it is somehow contingent on the renaming of the Overground station; beyond the ridiculous Johnson-era vanity project that was the Emirates Air Line, it seems improbable that TfL will allow any more corporate-flavoured information pollution. There will be no “Nike Stadium” station on the way to Enfield, much as there is no “Emirates” on the way to Cockfosters, especially if public consultation gets a look in.

The scene of the crime. Image: TfL.

But there’s a problem with the new name, all the same. “White Hart Lane” already means “football stadium”, in the same way Loftus Road or Stamford Bridge do. Changing it to “Tottenham Hotspur” risks opening the floodgates to an “O2 North Greenwich” or a “Virgin Euston” at some point in future, names as banal as there are dystopian. The Greater London Authority has promised to spend the £14.7m fee on community programmes in the local area – but that’s not much money to set the precedent that a private company can mess about with the Tube map.


What’s more, as CityMetric has often observed, there are plenty of station names across London that could do with a tidy up. Picking one that’s perfect already and asking for £14.7m to change it is adding insult to injury. How much would it cost a community group if they asked to change the name of Goodge Street to Fitzrovia? Why does a vast corporate entity backed by international sponsors and thousands of season ticket holders get to set the standard?

Back in Arsenal’s day, changing names on the Tube must have been easy; changes could be accommodated gradually without bothering the every day traveller. But in our world of online information, maps and apps, name changes are rather more complicated.

The question is – if TfL can bring itself to balefully accept this particular proposition, why can’t it accept ours? Why sort out a single non-issue on the Tube Map when you can catch lots of real ones in one go? A day’s pandemonium might just be a price worth paying to fix the Bethnal Greens problem once and for all.