Literally just a guide to all of the different types of train on the London Underground

Look! Trains! Specifically the Central line 1992 stock trains! Look at them go! Wow! Image: 4999603 via Pixabay

For the train lovers of London, last month was an emotional time. On 21 April, the tube said goodbye to one of its most faithful servants – the D stock.

In layman’s terms, the D stock were the trains that ran on the District line from 1980 to 2017. They carried millions of passengers over 37 years until the final journey from Upminster to Ealing Broadway last month.

But despite its recent bereavement, the District line trundles on – as do all the lines, with their own distinct trains. So how well do you know those trains? Whether by the colour of the poles you grab onto, the pattern on the seats, or the fact you have to duck your head as the doors close at rush hour, can you tell the different stock apart?

Here, to help you out, is CityMetric’s comprehensive guide to the tube’s rolling stock (read, trains). We’ll go line by line, rather than chronologically, to help the rolling stock novices in the room.

Bakerloo line

A Bakerloo line train at Kilburn High Road – don't ask why. Image: Oxyman.

Bakerloo line trains are called the London Underground 1972 stock, because they’re on the London Underground, and are from 1972, pretty much.

This is the oldest stock still in use on the tube. The design was based on the 1967 stock, which used to run on the Victoria line until 2011. They’re the last deep-level tube line trains – that is, those the narrow tube-shaped trains as opposed to the big box-shaped ‘sub-surface’ lines – which still have facing seats in little pods, as opposed to just having seating along the sides of the carriage.

There’s seven carriages to each train, which adds up to a total of 268 seats for passengers, though realistically everyone knows that the facing seats were built for midgets and you definitely can’t fit four people on them.

They were refurbished in a big way from 1991 to 1995. But they’re still pretty horrible, and it’ll be a blessing to see the Bakerloo line as one of the lines set to benefit from the ‘New Tube for London’, a massive batch of new rolling stock coming by 2033.

Which is a long time to be stuck with hot, loud, saggy, socially awkward trains, but we’ll just pretend they’re charming.

Central and Waterloo & City lines

The interior of a Central line train. Image: Peter Skuce.

We now jump ahead to the nineties (yay!) to the 1992 stock. This name is ironic, because the trains didn’t actually come into service until 1993. But details are for losers.

The 1992 stock has four carriages on the Waterloo & City line, but does most of its work on the Central, where its trains have eight carriages.

These trains also have two clever things called ATO and ATP, which more or less means the trains can drive themselves (just don’t tell the unions). ATO is Automatic Train Operation, which operates the train, and ATP is Automatic Train Protection, which gets data from the track and sends it to the drivers’ cab.


This makes for three modes of operation: automatic, where both are in use and the driver only has to open and close doors and press ‘start’ when the train is ready to go; ‘coded manual’ where ATO is off but ATP still gets data from the track to tell the driver how fast the train is going and how fast it should be going; and ‘restricted manual’ where both ATO and ATP are off and the driver drives by sight and the signals alone.

When driving on ‘restricted manual’, the trains can only run below 11mph. This is only really used in depots and when there’s a signal failure or a problem with the train’s systems.

Mercifully, the 1992 stock had a big refresher in 2011, with new seat patterns and better lights. The refresh is also one of the key differences between the Central and Waterloo & City line trains (the other is the different colour poles) as the Central line trains got new window frames and different panelling on the front of the train that the Waterloo & City line didn’t get. Sad!

New trains are also coming here, by 2033. So that’s nice.

Circle, District, Hammersmith & City lines

The inside of a shiny new S7 stock train. Image: Peter Skuce

Three birds with one stone, because they all use the nice new shiny ‘S7 stock’.

These came in a big bulk order built between 2009 and 2017 alongside new trains for the Metropolitan line – more on that later.

It was reportedly the biggest single order of trains in Britain (don’t get too hot under the collar there, lads), with an estimated cost of £1.5bn. That’s some serious train cash.

But the perk is that they’re beautiful, there’s loads of them – 192 trains, or 1,403 carriages – and they do a lot of good work.

The S7 trains are light, bright, air-conditioned, with seating along both sides of the carriages and fancy bendy bits that mean you can walk from one end of the train to the other.

They have regenerative brakes which means they can give the energy they use in stopping back to the network – about 20 per cent of it – which obviously is good for efficiency.

Fun fact! The colours on the seats reflect the colours of the lines that the S7 and S8 run on, which is why the colour coordination on them is so hideous. Turns out that throwing together yellow, green, pink and purple together isn’t really a good look.

Jubilee line

A 1996 stock train at Stratford. Image: Joshua Brown.

Back on the deeper lines, and an introduction to the 1996 stock. Again, confusingly, these trains actually came into service a year after their name, in 1997, and each train is seven carriages long.

They have a pretty similar design to the Northern line trains, which are numbered a year earlier but came into service a year later; but they do have some differences, such as the kind of suspension systems they use. Fun!

Most of the differences are because the Jubilee line trains were done on the cheap, whereas the Northern line trains were designed to live forever, but as a proud Jubilee line resident I’ll brush over that part.

The trains were originally operated manually, with a good old-fashioned ‘dead man’s handle’ – in other words, if the driver takes their hand off it because they’re dead, the train stops running – but a 2011 upgrade means the trains are now operated automatically.

The driver is responsible for opening and closing doors, and getting the thing started, and the transition allowed for an increase in peak services – up to 27 trains per hour in 2011 and then to 30 trains per hour in 2014.

Even as we speak, the Jubilee line trains are being refurbished. They’re getting new flooring, repainted hand rails – in actual Jubilee line colours – and new open/close buttons. I’m thrilled.

Metropolitan line

An S8 stock train at Amersham, of all places. Image: Matt Buck.

These are the aforementioned S8. Basically they’re the same as the S7, except they’re about 15 metres longer, and they have opposite-facing seats as well as seats down the side of the trains.

Since you asked, ‘S’ stands for ‘sub-surface’.

Northern line

The interior of a Northern line train. Image: Joshua Brown.

These are the ones that are like the Jubilee line but not. They’re called the 1995 stock, but they didn’t come into service until 1998. I swear I'm not making this up.

They’re the only deep tube trains that can choose to only open some doors, to cope with shorter platforms at Clapham Common, Euston, Camden Town, Charing Cross, and Hampstead.

Theres a cool thing that I don’t really understand, but basically: the way the Northern line trains get electricity from the lines is more efficient than the Jubilee line trains, and they can switch very large currents very quickly without damaging the systems of the trains. This is why the Northern line doesn’t make that weird whooping screaming noise when it starts, which the Jubilee line does. Fancy.

Like the Jubilee, it used to have a dead man’s handle, but now the trains are driven with ‘TBTC’, meaning transmissions-based train control. I don’t understand this, so don’t ask me, but it basically means it mostly drives itself.

Piccadilly line

Looks like a Northern line, but isn't. A Piccadilly line train. Image: Chris McKenna.

You’re still reading this. Why?

Anyway. The Piccadilly line trains – the 1973 stock – are really old, but surprisingly less horrible than the Bakerloo line.

Cleverly, the trains were specifically designed with larger door space, to cope with all those annoying people who use the tube to lug three thousand kilograms back from Heathrow, and each train has six carriages.

The main reason why these trains are less awful than the Bakerloo is that they were totally refurbished between 1996 and 2001.

The facing seats were ripped out and replaced entirely by seats along the sides of the carriage, and the original wooden (wooden!) floor was replaced. Evil awful straphangers – those dangly things that let you truly feel how recently the previous passenger scratched an unwashed part of their body – were replaced with slightly less heinous rails, and brighter lighting was put in.

They also added those fun perch seats on the ends of the carriages that you can sit on and let your legs dangle if you’re a child like me.

Enjoyably, the driver can choose to run the train in ‘commuter’ or ‘tourist’ mode. In ‘tourist’ mode, the train tells you helpful things, like ‘alight here for the museums and Royal Albert Hall’, whereas in commuter mode it just has morning breath and tries to pretend it wasn’t the one who just let off that woofter. Only one of those is true.

New trains are coming here very early, in 2025. Get excited.

Victoria line

A majestic 2009 stock train. Author definitely not biased. Image: Alex Nevin Tylee.

If you’re still here, you’re in for a treat – and you probably also need to seek help. Get a hobby. I hear golf is cool.

The 2009 stock is the most beautiful of all the tube’s offerings. Light, bright, spacious, fast, and with surprisingly competent air-conditioning, the new trains came with an 8 per cent reduction in journey times between stations, leading to a 16 per cent overall drop in journey times.

The 2009 stock has a higher top speed than the 1967 trains it replaced, a faster maximum acceleration, and is just generally amazing and good in every way.

Two fun things: part of the reason the Victoria line trains feel more spacious than other deep lines is they have a thinner casing, and – I got this one direct from the horse’s mouth, one of the stock’s designers – the handrails are laid out in such a way that they subconsciously lead you further into the carriage as soon as you step on board.

The Victoria line also has commuter and tourist modes, and its trains mostly operated automatically.

Sadly, however, two trains broke down in July 2010 due to failures in the system’s software, and very sensitive door sensors, which was bad. The line’s engineers are now working to build a new door edge, which should be installed across the network when it’s finished at an estimated cost of £3m.

Or you could all just actually stand clear of the doors and not try and leap on trains that clearly don’t have space for you. But whatever.

Don’t even ask me about the DLR and the Overground, this is already far too long.

But yeah. Trains, right? Cool. 

Jack May is a regular contributor to CityMetric and tweets as @JackO_May.

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What it's been like living in one of the few places that never locked down

People enjoy sunny weather in Tantolunden park in Stockholm on May 30, 2020, amid the novel coronavirus pandemic. (Henrik Montgomery/TT News Agency/AFP via Getty Images)

While most of the Western world was confined to their homes for the better part of two months this spring, my friends and I in Stockholm continued hanging out. In stark contrast to most other places, we went to restaurants (occasionally, outside when possible), to one another’s houses (in our yards when possible), and even sent our kids to school. As the rest of the world opens up again, not much will change in Stockholm.

As an American expat living in the Swedish capital, I was initially angry at Sweden’s response to the Covid-19 pandemic. In my home country, early outbreaks in locations such as Seattle, New York City and the San Francisco Bay Area led to strict rules that were soon mirrored in many other states and cities. The Swedish strategy, meanwhile, boiled down mostly to recommendations: If possible, work from home; avoid unnecessary travel within the country; engage in social distancing; and if you’re above 70, stay home. I felt that, in the face of a global pandemic, a country known for its generous welfare policies – that took such good care of its citizens – wasn’t doing its part to protect us.

My friends and I are mostly expats with young families who, early on, pulled our children out of school against official policy. (Schools here only closed for those 16 and over.) We eagerly waited to hear what further action our current country would take. Surely a country known for its progressive social policies would take fast, decisive action to protect its citizens?

The regulations that were put into place in Sweden amounted to restricting public gatherings to no more than 50 people (reduced from 500, which concert halls skirted by restricting entry to 499), limiting restaurants to table service only, and no visiting retirement homes. People here did take the work-from-home guidelines to heart – no one I knew was going in to work. But bars and restaurants were full. My Instagram feed was a highlight reel of acquaintances clinking champagne flutes at the city’s major clubs and restaurants.

After the first few weeks, I slowly started meeting up with friends again. I sent my kids back to school, where they intentionally spent most of the day outdoors and drop-offs were restricted to outside only (parents weren’t allowed to enter the building). I was careful to take precautions like bringing hand sanitizer to playgrounds and wiping my hands after opening and closing the gate to school. Hardly anyone wore masks to the grocery shop or inside stores – the few times I’ve seen people wearing them I’ve done a double take. One busy Friday night in late April at the local supermarket there was a line out the door and someone regulating the number of customers allowed inside at the same time. I took a photo and sent it to my family in the US saying “Sweden finally catching up with the rest of the world!” (I haven’t seen entry to that store being regulated since.)

When I spoke to Swedish friends about the strategy many agreed with the relaxed approach, mentioning that other countries’ draconian measures would be unnecessary in Sweden. A recent poll showed that just 11% of people in Sweden felt they did not trust state epidemiologist Anders Tegnell, who is leading the strategy. In this country, the onus was placed on citizens themselves to follow recommendations. It's about personal judgement and individual responsibility within a framework that rested on mutual trust, rather than top-down control. Swedes’ high level of interpersonal trust and trust in authority was often cited in the press as the characteristic enabling the relaxed Swedish strategy in tackling the virus, as opposed to social distancing becoming a matter of surveillance and policing like in Spain or Italy, where any nonessential socializing was forbidden.

In early May, Sweden's ambassador to the US Karin Ulrika Olofsdotter said in an interview with the Washington Post that some media outlets made it look “like everyone in Sweden is out drinking and partying,” she said. “That is not the case.” But that was certainly how it felt to me. According to research by Esteban Ortiz-Ospina and Max Roser in 2016, in countries such as Norway, Sweden and Finland, more than 60% of respondents in the World Value Survey think that people can be trusted. And in the other extreme, in countries such as Colombia, Brazil, Ecuador and Peru, less than 10% think that this is the case.


Of course, many places in the US also took a similarly relaxed approach to tackling the pandemic, with conservative lawmakers and anti-lockdown activists citing Sweden as taking the right approach. Sweden, rarely finding cheerleaders among conservative US circles, suddenly stood as an example to follow. But since then, places such as Arizona, Texas and Florida have all seen significant spikes in cases following reopenings and are being deemed the new epicentres of the virus – while Sweden’s numbers have stabilised. According to some reports, the death toll in Sweden is one of the highest in the world per capita, but the total number of Swedish deaths remains at just above 5,000, compared to over 120,000 in the US, over 43,000 in the UK, over 28,000 in Spain and over 34,000 in Italy. The mortality rate in Sweden and the number of new intensive care cases in the country declined in the last week and contagion rates here are now “stable” according to the WHO.

Although it didn’t always feel like it at the time, Sweden issued clear guidance from the beginning, with the expectation that people would choose to follow it. It certainly was my experience that everyone I knew stopped going into the office and started working from home. William Hanage, an associate professor of epidemiology at Harvard’s School of Public Health, attributed Sweden’s slowing of the virus to implementing guidance early on. “Sweden’s policy is unusual in that it took a much less stringent approach to preventing transmission," he says, "but interestingly it implemented those measures at a very early stage in the pandemic, before large amounts of community spread had occurred.”

Now I go outside and all too often realise I’ve left my hand sanitiser at home. I even met a friend for lunch outdoors at a busy cafe one particularly sunny day, and another indoors one Friday night for dinner. In May I had a birthday bash in my garden with a dozen or so friends and we ended up at the local bar. I always felt guilty after, as if I’d done something wrong that I couldn’t tell my family in Baltimore about. When I watched international news or spoke to family back home I would feel a certain cognitive dissonance between my own seemingly low-risk reality and what I knew to be happening in the rest of the world. My family in the US calls me skeptically questioning why I’ve had people over in my garden, or been out to eat. I can’t explain the lack of logic that permits an entire city’s citizens to operate life as normal in the midst of a global pandemic. But Stockholm has become a bubble of exactly this.

Being relatively young and healthy, I’m not so worried about getting sick. Even though young and healthy people have gotten seriously ill, there haven’t been any reported cases at my kids’ or any of my friends’ kids’ schools. Nobody I know in Stockholm knows has gotten sick, allowing me to feel a certain distance from it. But my husband’s parents are in their mid-70s and weren’t able to see their grandchildren for two months save for a few visits to their hallway, where we wave and blow kisses to them standing at the door.

I’ve been grateful – but also felt a sense of guilt for – my freedom here. When there are no hard and fast rules about how to act, it’s easy to constantly question yourself: Is it really okay to be outside, sitting at this full cafe? Is it okay to invite a few friends over for a birthday? Is it okay to send my kids to school? These questions have surely gone through minds around the world in the past several weeks, and now it’s clear that that behaviour had dire consequences in some cities and not others.

While Swedish social media at times suggests an endless friend-filled party at summer homes and popular hangouts, the reality here is a balancing act between personal judgement and the freedom to continue life as normal. Self-regulation is what it comes down to in Sweden, anyway.

Elysha Krupp is a writer and editor currently living in Stockholm.