An important and objective ranking of the 17 main stations on the East Coast Main Line

London King’s Cross: basically fine. Image: George Rex/Wikimedia Commons.

Ahh, the East Coast Main Line: heart of the British railway. For more than a century it has shuttled the great and the good between London and Edinburgh, and, possibly – depending on who you talk to – beyond, to Aberdeen or Inverness.

But somehow, despite the fact it’s one of the busiest lines in the country and connects some of the country’s biggest cities, there has yet to be a definitive ranking of its stations.

Until now.

Pick up your railcard, dust off your Lonely Planet guide to Yorkshire, and join us as we rank the 17 main stations on the East Coast Main Line.

17. Dunbar

I hate this place, with its smarmy, narcissistic topiary hedge, spelling out its name in the mocking and undeserved confidence that comes from being the first station properly in Scotland. (Sorry Berwick, but Scotland’s just not that into you.) I once got stuck here for two hours on a Cross Country train while that hedge laughed maniacally at my predicament. The bastard.

16. Retford

Where is Retford? What is Retford? Why is Retford? Why must my train stop in this desolate part of the country between Peterborough and Doncaster where, I have been reliably informed, nothing exists?

Where? Image: Owen Dunn/Wikimedia Commons.

Points are also deducted for having nothing to do with Robert Redford, which seems a missed opportunity.

15. Peterborough

Asbestos warnings are rarely welcoming. Even less so at a depressing concrete monstrosity where dreams go to die.

Legend has it that all evil-doing commuters live out the after-life stuck on Platform 3 of Peterborough station watching inter-city trains zoom through while they stand in the cold – Purgaborough is always seemingly 10 degrees colder than Siberia – desperately hoping their train to Retford (WHERE IS IT!?) will eventually arrive in time for the last bus home.

It will never arrive.


14. Northallerton

Why? Did anyone actually look on a map before deciding trains should stop here?

13. Stevenage

It is very difficult to come close to being as ugly as Peterborough station, but Stevenage manages it. Fans of late 1960s concrete brutalism should appreciate it, but then again those people are insane.

12. Grantham

It is such a shame that what is actually quite a pretty little station is linked so inextricably to one of the most depressing people to think about while travelling around Britain’s underfunded railway infrastructure.

Luckily, Margaret Thatcher was born here, so Isaac Newton’s links to the town through his schooling can be put to the back of your mind.

11. Morpeth

A little bit like Northallerton, it does feel like at this point route planners went, “Oh crap! There’s nothing between Newcastle and Edinburgh! Where’s a nice place for a quick cup of tea on the way?” and then chose Morpeth.

However, have you seen that station building? It is absolutely gorgeous. I want to show it to Kings Cross and tell it to listen to what St Pancras has to say and stop trying to be all rebellious and modern.

10. London Kings Cross

One of my biggest pet hates is when you are stood waiting, under the departure boards, as ‘Boarding Soon’ flashes interminably until five minutes before departure, causing a Lion King-esque stampede. Women and children become weapons of mass blockage, forcing rushing passengers to dive and swerve while stern looking suit-wearing businessmen stride past grimacing at the toddler they’ve kneed in the face just so that they can get to their seat seconds before anyone else.

This happens at many stations. But it’s particularly annoying at Kings Cross, where you can usually see the train you’re due to be on – It’s been sat there for half an hour – and there is always one smug bloke with a briefcase and an obnoxious hat who has used OpenTrainTimes to work out which train it is and has been sat smugly at an unreserved table in Coach E for twenty minutes.

9. Newark North Gate

Whatever happened to Newark South Gate? Did it take a bunch of plucky Englishmen to the semi-finals of the station World Cup and then retire into obscurity? We will never know.

8. Doncaster

“It’s a shame we’re not Sheffield,” should really be Doncaster’s motto.

Doncaster: Not quite Sheffield. Image: Stephen McKay/Geograph.org.uk.

7. Darlington

I honestly love Darlington station. Its Platform 1 is so unnecessarily wide. In winter, I’m convinced you could fit an ice skating rink and a Christmas market on there, and still have more than enough space for all the 2.2m passengers who use it every year to have a personal sofa to sit on while they wait for their train to arrive.


6. Berwick-upon-Tweed

The bridge into Berwick is one of the most beautiful parts of any journey up the East Coast mainline. The station itself is small and quirky, it has Grade-II listed buildings, and it’s in one of the most gorgeous parts of the country – even if no-one can decide if it is English or Scottish.

5. Alnmouth

Or Alnmouth for Alnwick, to give it its full title. Another stunningly situated little gem of a station in the middle of Northumbria. Alnmouth is visible from the rail line as you come into the station from the south and honestly, that view should attract more people there than the town the station seems to exist for. It is such a nothing station with a tiny main building and a pretty old signal box, but who cares, that view is just stonking.

4. Newcastle

Newcastle station is a terrible indictment of the overuse of ticket barriers. Why are there so many? Why can’t I get a pint at The Centurion if my train is delayed? I can see the sweet nectar we call beer, but those blasted plastic barriers of doom get in the way. They make the usable part of the station for those not travelling imminently so small it is infuriating.

But, Newcastle Central is such an imposing and angry looking industrial behemoth I can’t help but love it. No other station in the country manages to dominate an area in a city as much and it is glorious in its obnoxiousness.

3. Durham

Want to walk up a huge hill to get your train home? Sure you do!

Durham is a great example of an old station bound to its geography – it sits on top of a hill, overlooking the city – which has been well modernised to make the most of that fact. Durham’s cathedral naturally dominates the landscape – and frankly if you are wanting to look at anything while you wait that’ll be it.

Mmmm Durham. Image: Jungpioneer/Wikimedia Commons.

When the station was renovated in the latter part of the last decade, the ticket office moved back into the original buildings, and a transparent waiting area was installed – so if you want cover from the wind or rain, you can still see Durham.

Which is a bonus. Once upon a time, you would be staring at a brick wall as you desperately gasped for breath after dragging yourself up the never-ending hill to reach the station. Now, you get to stare at the city instead.

2. York

It’s my home station, but don’t let my inevitable bias put you off.

How many corners of the UK can you get to from York? All of them! Glasgow, Aberdeen, London, Penzance, Liverpool and Scarborough, all reachable from York. It’s the heart of the British Railway and if you disagree, fight me.

It’s also the only station stubborn enough to force Costa Coffee to paint its logo blue if it wanted to stay in the old signal box in the station, making it the only blue Costa in the country. There’s also the National Railway Museum within stumbling distance, a pub, a huge map of pre-Beeching railway in the north on the wall, and a glorious curved roof. And, when it opened in its present position in 1877 after first being moved outside of York’s city walls, it was the largest station in the world with a then impressive 13 platforms.

1. Edinburgh Waverley

Nestled in between the Old and New Towns of Scotland’s capital, with Arthur’s Seat in front of it, Edinburgh Castle behind it, and the Scott Monument effectively on top of it, Edinburgh Waverley is unique in its placement underneath a major road bridge, slap bang in the centre of a capital.

Edinburgh Waverley from the east. Image: G-13114/Wikimedia Commons.

Network Rail has now banned taxis from inside, allowing for more platforms to be built around the concourse, which lies in the centre of the station (which shouldn’t be, but is, a rarity). The station has four separate entrances and exits. One takes you directly onto the busiest shopping street in the city, Princes Street; another brings you out at the bottom of a steep staircase straight up to the Royal Mile; a third takes you out onto Waverley Bridge and in sight of Princes Gardens, the castle, and next to the Scott Monument. And a fourth takes you out to where Ewan McGregor nearly got run over by a car in Trainspotting.

It’s not the prettiest station, it’s not the most well connected station, it’s not even the busiest in Scotland – but with that infuriating talking toilet on a Virgin train as my witness, it’s the best around.

 
 
 
 

In New Zealand, climate change is driving an eco-nationalist revival

The green and pleasant land of the South Island. Image: Getty.

“Ten years ago I would have called them settler f*****g land squatters,” Mike Smith, Maori-dom’s most tenacious activist, said last November as he reflected on the agriculture industry’s central role in driving climate change. “Now I have to try and get these people on board.”

Smith is infamous for taking a chainsaw to Auckland’s most prominent tree on a damp October night in 1994 in protest of the “Pākehā” – or white European –dominated government’s fiscal envelope restraining treaty settlements. Now he’s turned his hand to another cause close-to-home for the Maori, New Zealand’s indigenous population: the environment.

“We’re super vulnerable, like we are to anything,” Smith says. “When it comes to climate change it’s like the poorest people in the world are going to be hit the hardest first, and that’s a lot of us.”

Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern appears, at least rhetorically, the most sympathetic leader to his cause in a decade. In her campaign launch speech late last year, she made the future government’s position clear: “Climate change is my generation’s nuclear free moment.”

This message should resonate with followers of her Labour party: the NZ left has long nurtured an environment-orientated “culture-of-protest”. So Ardern’s call to arms was bound to gain her loyal support among children of the 1960s and ‘70s, who led the march against nuclear ship visits, spurring on the government of the time to wriggle out from the US nuclear umbrella, and place a ban on foreign nuclear ship visits.

Now, it is to the tycoons of deep sea oil exploration they aim to close NZ’s ports.

In this, Smith is not short of support locally, with marches run by grassroots organisations and international animal welfare funds beginning to gain traction with every day New Zealanders. In this, Ardern’s prediction is correct: the Coal Action Network Aotearoa (CANA), is reminiscent of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND), an earlier cluster of left-wing pacifists and nature lovers who drove the creation of the nuclear free zone.  

In December, 15,000 passionate protesters marched through the capital. And with the government’s recent ban of offshore oil exploration projects, Jeanette Fitzsimons, former Green party co-leader and the head of CANA, is optimistic about similar change to the energy and farming sectors.

The Labour-NZ First-Green party coalition seems focused on setting a new global precedent, weaning NZ away from a United States which has jettisoned the Paris Agreement. The move replicates another 20 years ago, when New Zealand’s anti-nuclear movement was central to an upsurge in New Zealand nationalism. Now, the same sense of going it alone on foreign policy is apparent both locally and in Parliament.

Dr. Gradon Diprose, a senior lecturer at Massey University, argues that this echoes an older expression of colonial nationalism, that saw “New Zealand as a land of natural abundance”. This: “eco-nationalism” is centered on “protecting certain visions of picturesque landscapes and unspoiled natural beauty”. The slogan “Clean, green New Zealand” is prevalent in popular culture and tourism marketing. The public seems to have latched onto it too, and ranked keeping NZ’s waterways “clean and green” top of a recent survey of of kiwis’ top concerns.

Three decades ago, it was the 10 July 1985 sinking of the Greenpeace flagship Rainbow Warrior that thrust local activists’ fears into the public eye, resulting in an almost nation-wide expression of climate-protectionism.


The bombing, a French intelligence operation sparked by Greenpeace’s calls for an end to foreign nuclear testing in the Pacific, galvanised a great deal of change to New Zealand’s overseas defence policies. A lack of censure from New Zealand’s Western allies drove Wellington to distance itself from the United States, while the shock of seeing a friendly nation violate NZ’s sovereignty left many at home seething.

Thirty years on, the foreign policy split throughout the Anglosphere, regarding Russian-Western relations, globalism, and the old international rules-based order, is becoming wider. Climate change is just the tip of the iceberg.

Most Kiwis you talk to will shake their heads in disapproval at US president Donald Trump’s scandalous outing last year in Helsinki. But US defiance of internationally brokered climate resolutions is something they can see clearly reflected in rural communities across the country.

The country saw records broken at both ends of the extreme weather spectrum last year. As 2018 kicked off, Kiwis sweltered through the hottest summer on record, while in Golden Bay, a small inlet near the northern tip of the South Island, residents endured the largest flood in 150 years. So, when President Trump tweets “So much for Global Warming”, the majority of New Zealanders look back fondly on NZ’s 1985 decision to boycott the “ANZUS” treaty, putting New Zealand at odds with its war-time ally America on defence legislation.

Public calls to take the same track on environmental regulation have become louder in the wake of Donald Trump’s election. The former US Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, received a frosty “unwelcome” while on a flyby to the capital in 2017, with the New York Times’ Washington correspondent, Gardiner Harris remarking: “I’ve never seen so many people flip the bird at an American motorcade as I saw today”. Protests against President Trump’s stance on climate change are beginning to gain greater traction further still, with the hundred-strong “march for science” setting the tone for the new government later that year.

New Zealand certainly isn’t afraid of radicalism, and its activists are persistent. It’s already banned single use plastics in supermarkets. Plenty more is to come, Smith says.

And yes, reform is going to inhibit sometimes vital industries: “It doesn’t matter which way you spin the dice on this, whatever’s being done is going to hurt. People who are looking for a painless way of mitigating climate change, [but] I don’t think there is one.”

But among Smith’s troupe of climate agitators, the feeling is that, without drastic change, “the land”, the heart of the Maori ethos, is going to be hurt far more.

Back in Auckland, NZ’s financial hub, an electric scooter craze is gripping the city. This, too, has gained the support of local environmentalists. In New Zealand, a national sense of pride is always coupled with a certain eccentricity. In a country this size, change always starts small.