Thirty years ago today, a shiny new British Rail Class 373 electric train left Waterloo station in London. Thirty years ago today, a shiny new series 373000 TGV electric train arrived at Gare du Nord station in Paris. They were of course one and the same, the variant nomenclature just one aspect of the technical franglais required to make the inaugural journey of a partly-undersea rail service between the United Kingdom and the continent a reality. The name chosen for that service, Eurostar, is the linguistic equivalent but almost every aspect of this unique mirror-world reveals design differences. But in each case, which wins?
Beginning with those stations, Britain has had the edge since the beginning. Yes, Eurostar passengers may have had to scuttle in to the bowels of Waterloo but they had a decent amount of space to stretch their legs and, when eventually they boarded their train, did so under Nick Grimshaw’s dazzling, bespoke glass station roof, purpose-built to shelter the Eurostar platforms. These were grafted onto the edge of the existing structure, the sinuous planform of both a corollary of the congested urban site. At the other end, yes, Eurostar passengers may have been much closer to the roof of Paris’s own 19th century terminus but they were crushed into a long, narrow, carriage-like space with little room, before being ejected onto similarly narrow walkways spanning the platforms and stairs leading down to them (the move, in 2007, to St Pancras did retain the crypt-like experience in London with, if anything, a slight contraction in space too but the sparklingly sky-blue roof of William Barlow’s restored trainshed roof makes for another win). Britain 2, France 0
For those first dozen years, though, the slow-speed trundle though the southern suburbs of London, clanking over points and swaying through junctions, was a definite downer, coming home or going out. With the lack of dedicated track meaning the swift new train was forced to slow down and share what was there with commuter traffic, France’s existing high-speed rails beat England’s tired tangle of history into a tricorn hat. Once freed from the British capital, however, things got moving and with the 2003 opening of the Arup-designed HS1 line actually got thrilling with the fabulous Medway Viaduct. This a mile-long slash of prefabricated concrete spans a river on V-shaped piers, gives a tantalising view of Rochester castle on its hill and is traversed in seconds yet leaves a vivid impression that lasts for much longer. Britain 3, France 1
The terminals are, for Eurostar passengers, barely visible when encountered from either direction, so it’s drivers using ‘Le Shuttle’ (ouch) as the vehicle wagon version was initially called who get to assess the merits of each. Here it’s one to the French, as the swooping curves and circular artificial lake at Coquelles take the prix from the linear, rather workmanlike, Folkestone equivalent. Britain 3, France 2
The train cars themselves were smart enough for 1994. Grey, yellow and white may not sound exciting but a neutral, restful palette seemed just right at the time. Flip-up tables and padded headrests in standard were an unaccustomed luxury for many; the awkward, foot-level ashtrays – clip-on, one assumes, as a hedge against the prohibition that soon arrived – were though a pain to those of us who treasured a window seat and are not missed.
Elan was also very evident in the staff uniforms, designed by Pierre Balmain no less. A sunny complement to that décor and the Eurostar logo and echoing, perhaps, the cabin crew wardrobes of the Swinging Sixties, when the second golden age of airline travel took custom away from the railways, they were a definite plus for our cousins transmanche, I think. Britain 3, France 3
So after three decades and many changes, let’s take a look at the scores… C’est un design draw!
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