Battersea Power Station’s famous outline has long been an icon of the London skyline.  I have often viewed Battersea Power Station from the Thames but, in a sudden role reversal, I was now going to view the Thames from the top of Battersea Power Station.

It was actually my first visit to Battersea since the Power Station had been restored and reopened.  Many schemes were proposed during the years of redevelopment––theme park; football stadium; leisure complex.  On the whole, I might have preferred any one of these suggestions over the idea they finally plumped for––shopping centre.  But, Hey Ho!  Although no fan of shopping malls, I am prepared to concede that the entire complex looked very impressive at the time that I visited, still resplendent in its Christmas decorations, between Christmas and New Year.

But I am not here for shopping.  I have a ticket, which promises me a journey in a lift, up one of the landmark chimneys of Battersea Power Station.  And nothing is going to stand between me and my chimney.

Although, actually, first, another quick gripe.  I booked my ticket online.  Tickets were advertised from a particular price but, when I came to book, I discovered that this bargain price was only available for the very last slot of the day; every other timeslot was at a higher price.  Now, I do not begrudge the actual price I paid for my ticket––a higher one, for a more convenient timeslot––but I did feel slightly cheated by the rather cavalier use of the word ‘from’.  Marketers, please take note.  A more honest description of the pricing would have left a better first impression.

Anyway, back to the Power Station visit.  And another quick gripe.  Or maybe even two.  To get to the lift that goes up the chimney of Battersea Power Station requires enduring that modern-day attraction-scourge: the queue to join a queue.  There was a queue to show your ticket so that you could join the queue to enter the exhibition so that you could join the queue to enter the actual lift.  Now, none of these queues were long, but they were still a queue.  And here the second gripe.  There are various exhibits to look at while queuing––a reconstruction of architect Sir Giles Gilbert Scott’s office; a brief visual history of the Power Station itself––but your average Joe-punter is not interested in these; everyone is impatient just to get in the lift and see the view from the top of the chimney.

The final wait for the lift feels rather like being miniaturised inside a microfilm blueprint for a printed circuit board or on the set of an episode of Dr Who, 1970s vintage.  But, if all that has gone before has been rather anticlimactic, there is a genuine sense of excitement as the big, circular lift begins to climb and blue sky is suddenly visible above.

And, then, there it is.  The lift emerges, cork-like from its chimney, and a 360° panorama of London is visible all around.  And it really is a unique view of London.  Not like in the City or St Paul’s, where it can still feel rather hemmed in, or even on the London Eye where, once again, the eye tends to focus on the near rather than the far; here the view is expansive and somehow… different.  Even the Thames looks different.  More… wiggly.

Looking down on the Power Station itself is interesting; there is Wembley Stadium in the distance; and Hampton Court; and, closer, Chelsea Barracks, a surprisingly large green space by the edge of the Thames.

I take my requisite photographs in each direction; could happily have lingered longer, but there is a one-minute warning that the lift is about to descend again.

And, then, there it is, gone.  As quickly as it appeared, the lift begins its descent and, in a split-second, the glorious view is lost with it.  And, from a brief glimpse of rarified Heaven, I return to the real world of retail Mammon in which we are all required to more typically reside.

© E. C. Glendenny

E. C. Glendenny enjoys being a bit pie in the sky.