Spirit of place: New Street Station

I'm writing this on the way to Stafford, which means catching a train at Birmingham New Street. This journey enables seeing the iron horse sculptures which stretch between Birmingham and Wolverhampton: unfortunately the one on its own looks a bit odd & people often don't believe it's there at New Street. I remember them as a feature of my childhood, but am astounded to discover they were only put up in 1987 so I wasn't that small. The station is the second busiest in Britain outside London & manages to be the least popular (52% satisfation rate!). We have to face it that it is a dive: one of Birmingham's less successful 1960s rebuilds, with the result it's been fiddled with endlessly since then, having a major makeover at the moment. The second picture shows the alternative entrance, which I remember new. What on earth possessed them to make it white? Presumably it would be technically possible to keep it clean, but that has plainly not happened. On the other hand the original 1960s signal box is listed, has been done up at presumably great trouble & expense, & is therefore looking good.
Despite its grotty image New Street Station means to me tha gateway to the city. In recollected childhood train journeys we came out into the shopping centre (this must have been pre1983 because my father was still alive) and passed the Japanese shop & Habitat. Both shops later relocated away from there & both have now closed, but this marked a transition for me from the insularity of the Black Country in which I grew up (it's not for nothing that Birmingham City fans sing 'Your mum is your dad's sister', ironically to the tune of Go West, at Wolves fans) to the anonymity and relative sophistication of city living. This seems to be a common experience among young gays, perhaps less so now, & perhaps depending on where you grow up, but it is necessary with the horses to flee from everything that denies our personal sovereignty & freedom.
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