O purple train (a poem on the occasion of the Elizabeth line's 1000th day)
O purple train, we bless your golden genesis,
A thousand days of rapid transit woven under London,
A silver needle stitching together west and east,
Berkshire to Bexley, Heathrow to Essex.
O purple train, how did we ever cope without?
Crammed into peak hour tube trains, jackets touching, hanging tight,
Dawdling across the capital in actual slow coaches,
Your capacious carriages set us free.
O purple train, how slowly you arrived,
Long-mooted plans eventually funded and tortuously constructed,
Cursed by years of engineering problems and intractable signalling issues,
All that delay now instantly forgotten.
O purple train, what architecture you delivered!
Deep concrete caverns and swooshing curvaceous passageways,
Sleek tubular platforms brightly toplit into the far distance,
Uplifting the soul daily as we pass.
O purple train, how deep thy platforms,
Honestly it takes forever to make your way down to some of them,
The stations with two flights of escalators are the worst,
Liverpool Street I am especially looking at you.
O purple train, busiest railway line in the country,
More passengers than all the trains in Wales and Scotland put together,
Bringer of inevitable death to the Heathrow Express,
Although somehow it still lingers on.
O train in that delightful shade of purple,
Softer than Metropolitan magenta, cooler than Mildmay blue,
A gorgeous stripy moquette to rest your bum on, very marketable too,
Cushions, socks and £120 lambswool throw.
O purple train, Boris's toadying tribute,
Should've been Crossrail but nominally gifted to Her Late Majesty,
One of the last public things she did was pop down and open it,
Never took a ride though.
O purple train, how frequently you seize up,
A little disruption out west and you fall apart, No service between Paddington and Heathrow/Reading due to late finish of engineering works, London Underground will accept tickets, no service between Stratford and Shenfield due to planned engineering work, replacement buses operate, good service on the rest of the line,
Every chuffing weekend.
O purple train, a gift to the suitcased,
Direct route from the West End to your flight, no need to think too hard,
You're paying a premium for the privilege but thanks,
It eases the Piccadilly for the rest of us.
O purple train, bringer of cultural life,
No hipster knew where Hanwell was nor ever ventured to Abbey Wood,
Now even Woolwich looks attractive and Whitechapel has essentially ignited,
Though Iver still isn't packing them in.
O purple train, connected to the wider world,
Delivering shoppers, bankers, cleaners, tourists and the office-bound,
All glued to their phones as 4G fizzes through the tunnels,
It was quieter before everyone could make calls.
O purple snake, thy trains so long,
Alight at the wrong end and it can take ages to reach the right exit,
Not forgetting the evil arrows that point you down diversionary corridors,
Especially at Tottenham Court Road.
O purple train, bringer of economic fortune,
Wielding your magic wand to bless the communities you touch,
Boosting job growth but turbocharging house prices further out of reach,
So swings and roundabouts overall.
O purple train, thou futuristic conveyance,
See what brilliance happens when you think big and dig deep,
But it'd never get built now; too expensive, too risky, too southern.
There will never be a Crossrail 2.
O purple train, through stations deep,
Cathedral halls of glass and light where footsteps merge in seamless dance,
Clockwork in your rhythm you carry the weary and the wide-eyed,
A thousand days of pulsing life.
