Uxbridge Vine Street station opened on 8 September 1856 as Uxbridge Station and was the earliest of three railway stations in Uxbridge. It was the northern terminus of the Great Western Railway Uxbridge branch from the main line at West Drayton. South from Uxbridge town centre the line ran near Whitehall Road and Cleveland Road.
In November 1885, the Staines West branch opened sharing a short section of the Vine Street branch to connect to the main line. An intermediate station at Cowley opened in 1904. Uxbridge Vine Street station was closed to passengers from 10 September 1962, when the service from West Drayton was withdrawn. Goods traffic ceased two years later and the only stretch of the line north of West Drayton to survive longer than this was that as far as Middlesex Oil Depot, some distance south of Cowley, which closed in 1979. Demolition of Uxbridge Vine Street station occurred in 1969. Hillingdon Road now covers its site.
Famous quotes containing the words vine, street, railway and/or station:
“Just the same as a month before,—
The house and the trees,
The barn’s brown gable, the vine by the door,—
Nothing changed but the hives of bees.”
—John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892)
“If you would learn to write, ‘t is in the street you must learn it. Both for the vehicle and for the aims of fine arts you must frequent the public square. The people, and not the college, is the writer’s home.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“Her personality had an architectonic quality; I think of her when I see some of the great London railway termini, especially St. Pancras, with its soot and turrets, and she overshadowed her own daughters, whom she did not understand—my mother, who liked things to be nice; my dotty aunt. But my mother had not the strength to put even some physical distance between them, let alone keep the old monster at emotional arm’s length.”
—Angela Carter (1940–1992)
“I introduced her to Elena, and in that life-quickening atmosphere of a big railway station where everything is something trembling on the brink of something else, thus to be clutched and cherished, the exchange of a few words was enough to enable two totally dissimilar women to start calling each other by their pet names the very next time they met.”
—Vladimir Nabokov (1899–1977)