A Day in Cirencester (1): Railways and parking tickets

Cirencester keeps drawing me back to itself.  A couple of weeks ago, I met Lucy Melford there on her caravan site. We explored the old Thames & Severn Canal and had a lovely meal at a country inn, but didn't go into town.  The last time I was 'in town' was back in November 2013. I blogged about it, writing:

It's hard to imagine that, in Roman times, this town was the second largest in England.  Since then its fortunes have wavered and in the railway age it missed out being on the main line by 4½ miles, which can't have helped.  But its railway history is nothing if not colourful, and I'll write some more after my next visit. 

It was clearly high time that I went there again, and I chose last Saturday. Unbeknown to me, this was the day of the Cotswold Show and the roads around Cirencester were busy, to put it mildly. But Matilda, my ever-faithful smartphone and satnav, was on hand to get me out of the jam and guide me through the back streets. Before long I was pulling into the Old Station Car Park (no surprises there!)... but my problems weren't over yet.

A seemingly helpful District Council website informed me that Cirencester's Pay & Display ticket machines accept credit and debit cards, so I didn't worry about bringing change.  When I arrived, two people were glumly pushing buttons, but their cards kept being rejected as the card machines couldn't get a connexion. "No problem," says I, "let's try the Pay By Phone option."  Following the instructions, I texted my car registration number to 705305.  The number doesn't work!  I toyed with leaving a "Tried and Failed" note inside my windscreen, but decided to chance my credit card first.  Failed.  Tried again. Success! I wonder whether anyone at the Council knows or cares?

Before leaving, I glanced up at a tall building on one side of the car park. Something in the dusty depths of my memory told me that this was the old station building, so I took a photo.  I was right! 

Town Station was once the terminus of a short branch line from Kemble, but saw its last passenger in 1964. A wall plaque informs those who find it (I was not one of them, but read about it later) that the building may have been designed by the great I.K.Brunel himself.  I wonder what he'd make of it now?  Rather more, I suspect, than the directors of the Midland & South Western Junction Railway would make of their old station at Watermoor.  I set off for a closer look.

The M&SWJR (nicknamed the Tiddly Dyke, for reasons that elude me) has long held my fascination. Like the Somerset & Dorset to the west, and the Didcot, Newbury & Southampton to the east, this railway formed a north-south link, across the main London-bound traffic flows.  And like so many railways built in the era of Railway Mania, the M&SWJR lurched its way from one financial crisis to another, before being swallowed into the mighty Great Western in 1923, but not before it had acquired a colourful collection of locomotives, including one that rejoiced in the (unofficial) name Galloping Alice.

And here is all that remains of Watermoor Station. Sic transit gloria Tiddly Dyke!

These large concrete block are tank traps, put there during World War II, and there they have remained.

And there there are too, beside the far platform in this 1960s photo.  By this time, the 'up' line had been lifted, after a lorry partly demolished the bridge at the north end of the station. That's the former gas works in the distance.  Behind the signal box, the old company had its locomotive and wagon works.

Echoes of the past remain today in "Bridge Road" and "Midland Road", but everything associated with the bridge and the Midland & South Western Junction Railway has vanished.

Ironically, rather more of Roman Cirencester remains than the Victorian Tiddly Dyke, and that's where I'll go with my next post.