Ashford part 2

 

Warning. Social commentary ahead.

The in-between-venue walk was also unplanned. The advertised shuttle bus had apparently broken down on the way out on Saturday and had been replaced by a swisher, but inadequate, 16 seat minibus…. We walked.

In hindsight this was good as the afore mentioned winter sun made for a pleasant stroll into Ashford centre past and through the site of the old loco works.  Not only that but we had local guides to explain what we were looking at.

Local history is always tied up with the now, and the recent now for Ashford has not been that great (its nickname Trashford gives a clue). I do get slightly defensive when faced with Midlanders and Northerners who routinely describe the southeast as ‘affluent’. A day in places like Ashford, Margate and most of the Medway towns would temper that opinion and recent governmental language vis-à-vis levelling up is always suffixed with ‘in the north’ and completely glosses over the deprivation in some post-industrial areas south and east of the capital. Big chunks of Kent were about shipping and coal mining (always forgotten) and show as many social problems as Mansfield or Scunthorpe. Ashford was teased: HS1 was to regenerate the area, and new infrastructure, hotels and conference places were built to welcome a business tourism from Europe, with direct trains to Paris, Brussels and beyond. Now the same governments have left the town hanging with Eurostars rushing past from the wealth of North London non-stop to Lille. Ashford is Oliver Twist watching the Bumble’s feast. The short walk showed all that in clear sunshine.

The very long engine sheds rival anything in Swindon or Crew but are much reduced now and what is left is derelict. Possibly earmarked for TV production development they are totally collapsing and seem past anything but the bulldozer and unaffordable housing.

As we drove in earlier, the roof of this building caught my eye and was the washing house for the rags used at the works – something that would only be considered a single use item these days. Back then, worthy of a sturdy red brick structure which just screams ‘model me’. Only a few hundred yards away is the gatehouse/signing on building with its offices, belltower and clock and we were shown photos via a phone of workers streaming past it at the end of shift in more productive times. Again, a simple operation generated a highly ornate Italianate structure mirrored to the south behind housing by the company school.

As modellers we drool over such railway opulence for minor buildings and investment in industry and it plays very hard against the current thinking where Kent, and indeed the rest of the country, finds itself in 2022; basically, abandoned to fend for itself.