A celebration of the work that went into 8 epic Harry Potter films with hundreds of sets, thousands of props and even a full blown Hogsmeade and the Castle.

The Drink

They have real Butterbeer at the midpoint and it is well worth a try – I wasn’t disappointed.

The Fun

If you’re a HP fan, this will blow your mind. Nearly everyone visiting sits somewhere on the scale of fanaticism, and the tour guides aren’t far off either, but the experience would be impressive regardless. It is absolutely amazing how much work went into creating everything for all the films down to the tiniest detail, with very little done using special effects. There’s a chance to ride a broomstick and drive a Ford Anglia on a green screen which is worth doing, even if I am a probably bit too old to be fitted for a wizard’s cloak. There was so much to see I’d happily go back for a second visit and don’t think I’d be bored – and at £28 plus £4 for the iphone that guides you around with clips and videos from the cast (which is a must have) it is an absolute steal for what it is.

Overall Experience

They have done an amazing job of making this a slick operation, despite the huge amounts of people streaming in and out at all times. They know exactly what true Potter fans want and deliver it unashamedly. Worth noting that you have to book and you physically cannot buy tickets on the door. This is one of the best museums/tourist exhibitions I’ve ever been to, if not the best. Exceeds Expectations.

Go there if…

You think of the cactus plant in your kitchen as a Mimbelus Mimbeltonia and feel like “no one in the future will ever understand what it was like to wait for the next book.”

Don’t go there if…

You’re a muggle and you don’t even know what that means. Or you’re expecting a theme park.

If you’re pretending to have been there don’t forget to mention…

You can buy Hermione Grainger’s actual Yule Ball dress in the gift shop, for a highly reasonable £160. Make sure you have change for the bus from the station to the exhibition – a return ticket is £2.

For more information

See Come and Go By Bubble and Blonde in the City.

Obviously I can’t share my whole entire photograph collection from the day as I did take about 100 I think which would be very boring indeed to look through but I have compiled a few of them together so that you can all have a look at what sort of things you get to see when you are there. I was really surprised at the amount of scenes that you got to see for example the great hall, the common rooms, the Weasley house, Hagrids house and many more. I won’t spoil all of it but there are lots of surprises to be seen through out the tour!

It isn’t just scenes from the films, you also get an insight into the costumes, make up and of course some of the weird and wonderful creatures are there to look at too. We spent about 2 and a half hours there but I have heard that some people can stay there pretty much all day to take in everything. I was excited the whole way around the tour but I think the most exciting bit is at the end where you get let loose into the Harry Potter gift shop, I think it’s safe to say I was certainly like a kid in a candy shop! I managed to pick up a chocolate frog, which surprisingly I haven’t eaten yet but it is very pricey in the shop so make sure you bring your pocket money along with you!

Overall it was a great day and an amazing birthday present so I have to say hats off to my sister for choosing it for me! All the details of how to get to the attraction is on the tour website if you are interested, we went by train to Watford Junction, where you can then be picked up by a very special Harry Potter bus which takes you to the tour in around 15 minutes. I’d say the attraction was for the whole family really as there is lots to do, you can even sample some butter beer whilst you are there! So to any Harry Potter fans out there I urge you to go to see the tour, you won’t be disappointed it’s wonderfully magical!

The queues were short, the shuttle is quick and everyone at the start seemed helpful. Whilst we screamed over being within two feet of Harry’s real cupboard under the stairs (!!) the last organised tour group were filed through. The system seems to work well overall. There’s enough space to take pictures of the exhibits, and only crowding in the really popular spots (for us that was the Mirror of Erised and Dumbledore’s office, you couldn’t swing a mouse, let alone a Phoenix).

The biggest problem we had was with tour staff- though they tried to be as helpful as possible, they clearly weren’t all that knowledgeable on the topics. You could see all the fellow nerds wince with every ‘Bell-ay-tricks’. It seemed to be a bit of a in-joke with the tech staff to admit that they hadn’t read the books until they’d finished working on several movies.

The smallest props are so intricate- the time-turners, the remembrall, the Marauder’s Map. It’s slightly ruined by the time you hit the gift shop and there’s a million of everything (except, pencils and rubbers! What kind of a gift shop has no stationary?!). You can feel yourself being pushed into making a ‘big’ purchase, but after the ‘big’ day (£28) plus the choice to have a picture on the real Quidditch set (£12) and a cooling butterbeer after (£3), your pockets may be starting to bleed like Riddle’s Diary.

Still, if you’re here, you’re probably not all that worried about a ridiculous £400 copy of Dumbledore’s robes. Me and my friends just got postcards to rub into everyone else’s faces where we’d been, and legged it to Pizza Hut to talk endlessly about the costumes and sights.

The outside props we were really lucky with- I imagine, in the normal British weather, standing outside number 4 Privet Drive and hanging off the Knight Bus wouldn’t be such a treat.

Plus, even if you’re not into the books/films and you’ve been dragged to see the sights, the animatronics and graphics parts were really quite smart. I’m not very knowledgeable on these topics, but the videos on show around the elf mask section and character models for certain sets were a good addition to the tour.

So, let Warner Bros need someone for a few fresh ideas (and to give tour-ees the correct pronunciation of ‘Gryffindor’), they just need to call…

On Sunday, April 29th, Liesel, Leslie, Elana, Aurora and I ventured north of the city to the large studio lot in Watford Junction.  Our tour included the sets for the Great Hall, the Gryffindor Boys’ Dormitory and Common Room, interior spaces in the Weasleys’ home, The Burrow, the Ministry of Magic, Dumbledore’s Office, the Potions Dungeon, Hagrid’s hut and many more.  Many of the original costumes worn by Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, Rupert Grint, and the other actors were positioned around the sets along with famous props like the Triwizard Cup and the wands of various characters.  And outside on the back lot, we got to try Butterbeer, sit in the Weasley’s flying car and knock on the door of 4 Privet Drive. My favorite set was probably Diagon Alley, where the Hogwarts students go to purchase their cauldrons and books and supplies for wizarding school.  You just felt like you were transported into that world.  It was also really cool to see the production side of the films and how the set designers and costumers and make-up artists took Rowling’s words on the page and made them a reality.  Things like green screen technology, machine-operated mythical creatures that spurt real fireballs, and large to-scale models of fictional places like the Hogwarts Castle  turned the impossible into possible.

I spent the whole three hours squealing like a ten-year-old girl.  For one thing, I was just really excited to be there and to see these things in person.  But, also, I think it reminded me of what it was like to be that 10-year-old, picking up The Sorcerer’s Stone for the first time and believing in magic…

I would highly recommend the Harry Potter – Warner Bros. Studio Tour to anyone visiting London, but remember to book your tickets in advance. We booked ours in January for an April time slot (but we were also trying to get in during the first month of opening.  I would think that two weeks or so in advance should suffice now).  It was definitely one of the highlights of my time here.

At the WB Harry Potter Studio. I highly recommend. We had a great time.

Having done all the other types of “tours”; I was apprehensive (would it be crowded?  Cheesy?  Could I take photos? Is it just to make more money now that the films are complete?  Will people step on me?).  It was the best laid out; organised, inspiring type of visit we have had.  My daughter and her friend were enthralled for four to five hours; never losing interest.  That in itself is the seal of approval.  I was totally taken as well.   I have to admit to having tears in my eyes on a couple instances from the overwhelming emotion of seeing and being in it – the joy, the creativity, the space these people lived in for a number of years that it permeated inside me  even though I am a muggle.  I am thankful it is allergy season; and I have blepharitis in my eyes so I could lay the blame there…..

The intricacies of the process; the attention; the dumpster diving that some lucky souls were able to do to come up with the sets.  It spoke to me of all that we can be if we are open and inspired; and willing and able to expand our hearts into our work.  Our passion.  Our life.  Oh – how I hope this to be true for my child!

What was best (other than the butterbeer!)?  I wouldn’t want to spoil it for anyone.  But for me; the attention to detail.  The Knight bus.  The Quidditch brooms.  Dobby in the flesh.  How big Hagrid was!  Mandrakes.  Potions.  And even the studio gift shop with its original pieces from the films; the Gringott’s chandelier; the potion bottles……was perfect.  We were inspired; bought a cell from Prisoner of Azkaban and a few other bits.  (okay – if you must know; a Snitch bracelet for prosperity!)  And I dreamed of my daughter going to a Ball in Hermione’s Yule Ball Gown and coordinating handbag.  Remember how she came down the stairs and we all gasped???

And although this is booked up all through the holiday; there are not such a large  number of people in there that spoil it.  (Unlike the David Hockney exhibit the next day.  OMG. I had to get out.)

You have time.  You have space.  There are benches to sit.  You can absorb and dream.  You can take photos of everything.  You can watch the magic filter through the music into people’s minds.

Now I need to go read the books again…..

This was due to a broken down train. London Midland services were affected, and taxis replaced trains. Passengers were advised to leave more time for journeys in the affected area.

Trains to and from London Euston, Watford Junction, Rugby, Nuneaton, Tamworth, Stafford, Crewe, Liverpool Lime Street, Preston and Manchester Piccadilly were affected.

There were delays of around 30 minutes.

Congestion can affect passengers at smaller stations as much as at the big termini in major cities. The report – the Network Route Utilisation Strategy: Stations – recommends that action is taken to identify the measures needed to relieve passenger congestion at 11 stations by 2019.

The stations identified in the report are:

London

Victoria, Fenchurch Street, Charing Cross, Clapham Junction, Wimbledon and Surbiton.

Outside London

Liverpool Lime Street, Basingstoke, Bristol Parkway, Preston and Watford Junction.

Paul Plummer, Network Rail’s group strategy director, said: “A successful railway station should add to the passenger experience as well as support the economic, social and environmental benefits of rail. As more and more people choose to travel by rail, it’s vital that passenger congestion is tackled or some stations risk becoming victims of their own success.

“Working with our partners from across the rail industry, we have identified a number of stations that would benefit from cost effective measures to reduce congestion and improve the travelling experience for passengers.”

The list excludes stations where congestion-tackling measures are already in place, such as Paddington and Farringdon in London.

NR also listed 12 stations with long-term plans which would deal with congestion, but which might not be fully committed or developed.

These 12 stations are: Barking in east London, Bristol Temple Meads, Chelmsford, Derby, Finsbury Park, Glasgow Queen Street (High Level), Leeds, Liverpool Central, London Euston, Manchester Piccadilly (west side platforms), Manchester Victoria and Tottenham Hale.

Today’s publication takes in to account comments received following the publication of the draft route utilisation strategy for consultation in May 2011.

Paul, George and Ringo too. Mick and Keith were there, backed more than ably by Bill, Charlie and Brian. The Who, Small Faces and Kinks all greeted me a cheery ‘Good Morning’. The sun shone through a gap in the curtains throwing a sepulchral light onto my bed covers.

Was I in heaven?

Nope, just Peter Popstar’s spare bedroom, which also doubled as a recording studio. He had a sweet little 12-track mixer, three guitars, a couple of mikes and framed posters of his favourite bands adorned the walls. He bought me in a cup of tea in a Yellow Submarine mug. I was indeed in heaven…

I’ll let you into a secret. I always wanted to be in a band. Or better still, a solo artist, highly respected, critically acclaimed, ploughing my own field, different from all the other fields. They grew corn. I grew figs, the food of love. Listen to this for a beauty – ‘Some songs come out of the ground just like a potato, some tunes, if you break them open, you’ll find eggs… Songs contain miracles’. Tom Waits said that.  

I never played Glastonbury, but you can live out your dreams in other ways. In my case, this meant Saturday morning vinyl excursions to Watford on the chugger train from Bricket Wood. One train every 40 minutes and a magical ride right through the Common; trees on either side, Tolkien-like scenes glimpsed through the bracken, the odd Muntjac Deer darting away into the undergrowth as the train passed by. Then back down to reality with a thud as we tunnelled under the M1 and came out in Garston, where the tough kids lived on the Meriden estate and beat up my friend John Sparrow one time as he couldn’t run away as fast as me. Ah, happy days.

Watford North industrial estates came next, and finally Watford Junction. I always liked it actually. Being a junction, trains whizzed through from exotic locations like Liverpool Lime Street and Bletchley. Sometimes they stopped and I’d hop on from my little branch line and ride up to town, to the big evil city where adventure and excitement lurked down every dark alleyway and hidden Regency square. I’ve always thought of London in this way. I think that’s why I love it so much. It contains everything your parents ever warned you about, and more.

Lots more; history oozes from every pore. Something has happened wherever you tread; Robberies, love affairs, riots, rants, executions, everyday moments from the swamp days to the empire days. A thousand stories on every street corner, a million dreams of streets paved with gold – 999,999 dreams shattered, replaced by grim servitude and dirt pie for tea. One dream realised; a mansion built in marble, fine wine drunk from goblets made of gold. A beautiful wife, intelligent kids, a dynasty born and still maintained to this very day…

Back to vinyl – I bought mine from Subway Records at the top end of town. It’s no longer there of course, even though vinyl’s still alive and kicking while CDs die on their plastic coated arses. Hurrah! They always had deals on at Subway and I still have my bargain but priceless copies of The Beatles ‘Revolver’ and ‘Sticky Fingers’ by The Stones.

Which brings me back to Peter; a HUGE Beatles fan. We met at College through a shared love of the Fab Four, early REM and Aztec Camera. Peter had a guitar and I had a Badminton racket, I found it better than the heavier tennis version for extended guitar solos and sometimes playing Badminton too.

After we graduated and many sought out gainful employment while others went traipsing the globe, Peter went back home to Hartlepool to concentrate on his band,’ Wendell’s Parlour’, named after a pooch pampering service in Horsforth, just outside of Leeds where we studied at what the locals called ‘The Pill on the Hill’ – cruel, but true. Peter managed to be a pop star, at least in his head, for a good 9 years before he hit 30, had an early mid-life crisis and became a teacher.

Those 9 years were far from wasted though. Peter, and his pals from the ‘Pool, had a damn fine melodic power pop group. I saw them a good few times, whenever they came down to London, including two memorable gigs; one at the Mean Fiddler where they blew everyone else off stage, buoyed perhaps by their very own teenage fan club, and once at The Forum up in Kentish Town. Admittedly, it was in a side room, but packed to the rafters all the same. They supported Mercedes, another fine band who had just won a record deal, and again, they were the best band on the bill. At one point an enthused John Hegley (poet, writer and musician) jumped up on stage and exhorted the crowd to get behind them as they had come a very long way to play. Hartlepool is a long way from everywhere you see, including Hull, and that’s a very long way from anywhere too.

Things were looking up when they acquired a professional manager who persuaded them to drop ‘Wendell’s Parlour’ and become ‘Savoy’. This never quite worked for me. I liked the wistfulness of WP which perfectly encapsulated their more reflective songs but also oozed irony during their more raucous crowd pleasers. Never mind. It was not to be. Peter still writes and records as Play People and has released a couple of singles on US indie label Cloudberry (www.cloudberryrecords.com) and that suits him just fine – for now. We’re going to collaborate on a song very soon hopefully. Peter will write it, play all the instruments and record it and I’ll make him endless cups of tea with chocolate Hob Knob dippers, now that’s Rock’n’Roll.

A non-commercial break, in fact – a rant…

While I’m writing this, bare-chested in shorts like a beach bum (calm down ladies), I’m listening to Dennis Wilson’s great solo album ‘Pacific Ocean Blue’. He was the only Beach Boy who was actually into surfing and led a wild and interesting life; the opposite of insular, insecure Brian – the Genius. Sadly he died after a freak accident aged only 39; an all-day drinking session turned to disaster after he decided to dive into the harbour from his boat at Marina Del Ray to retrieve belongings he had thrown overboard on a previous drinking bout a few years earlier. He cracked his head on a rock and drowned. His friends found him curled up like a baby. I’ve often thought that we’re born helpless and die helpless. Little old ladies are just as fragile and vulnerable as new-borns and you should always help them across the road, little old men too. The older I get, the more interesting I find older people and the more I regret not quizzing my Great Grandparents and Grandparents about their lives before they died. I want to know more about my own parents now. Everything, even the bits they don’t want me to know, especially the bits they don’t want me to know.

What has all this to do with vinyl? Well I, like many 40-somethings, prefer vinyl to CD or downloads. Why, because it’s real. It smells of LA, New York and Soho, New Orleans even; twelve inches of pure pleasure. No laughing at the back please. And, a limit to how many songs can be crammed on. I prefer 7 or 8 perfectly crafted songs with all the chaff discarded, than 70 minutes plus with all the dross included, often, different versions of dross too. Nothing annoys me more than ‘classic’ albums on CD with bonus tracks. Great albums were created through a combination of hard graft and inspiration, sometimes very quickly (Led Zep knocked out their first album in a matter of hours) and poorer quality tracks were left on the cutting room floor. A lot of time was spent on track sequencing and what constituted Side One and Side Two – often albums could have a very different feel as you flipped them over on your deck, or as we used to say – ‘turntable’.

Having said all that, the three bonus tracks on Pacific Ocean Blue are my favourite songs on the album. What a hypocritical tosser. One of my favourite words that – ‘Tosser’. I’m also fond of ‘Crikey’, ‘Grapple’ and the phrase ‘Ruddy Nora’. I once loved ‘Perpendicular’ but not so much any more. Let me know yours and we’ll create something beautiful together.

Rant over… I got up and met Peter’s 6-year old daughter, Daisy. She had a lovely smile and a close-loving relationship with her favourite cuddly toy, a tiger called ‘Tiger’. She reminded me of my Millie, her teddy forever at her side, it’s the tail she likes, flicking it absent-mindedly as she watches TV or lies in bed at night. Tiger’s tail was clearly just as dear to Daisy. I asked her if I could borrow him as I would be far away from my family way up high in the chilly north but she point-blankly refused, but, minutes later, came back with a doll that I could borrow. I was touched… until she told me it was her least favourite and dolly was going spare. Kids, I love their frank honesty.

Peter’s wife Alison joined us shortly after and plonked a great big smacker right on my lips. A lovely, straight-forward, smart northern lass. No pretentious two-cheek air kissing up here. No tongues either, but it was only breakfast time. I implore you all to join my campaign to reinstate One Cheek Kisses when greeting friends. It’s more sincere than two. It also leaves the girls yearning for more. Keeps them on their toes. And, believe me, when they kiss me, they do have to stand on their toes. If you haven’t met me, I’m tall, very tall. Not basketball tall, just a slightly freaky 5 foot 17 inches tall. Tall enough to constantly whack my head on low ceilings. Not tall enough to enter the Guinness Book of Records. Tall enough to annoy anyone standing or sitting behind me at any live event. Not tall enough to steal rare eggs from birds’ nests without a ladder. You get the picture.

Alison and Daisy were going camping. Peter was refusing – although it’s just occurred to me writing this now that he might have secretly wanted to go but gave up this family treat to entertain me. Sorry Pete. Having said that, he’d never been before and was not convinced on the merits of camping – at all. I tried to persuade him otherwise. The Hayes family are relative novices, this is our fourth year, and we only go two or three times a season, but we love it and the kids do too. It’s a very sociable activity camping, everyone is open to talking to their neighbours as we’re all out in the open, subject to the elements which breeds a sense of camaraderie. No airs and graces here and there’s a Dunkirk spirit whenever it’s about to rain. And, when you get Cath Kidston tents and Orla Kiely wellies you know you’re going to get decent showers, loos that flush and a stack of Guardians in the local store. Gosh. I sound like a snob. I’m not – most of the time – I just don’t like to carry out my morning motions with my feet traipsing in last-night’s piss and stranger’s floating turds circling menacingly like sharks in the lav-bowl.

So, the girls departed and we had the whole place to ourselves. What did we do? Well, not much at all actually, and we both agreed it was one of the most pleasant Saturday’s we’ve spent in a long time (i.e. pre family). No offence to my wife and kids, but, sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do: Sit on the sofa. Scratch his balls with impunity. Listen to music and watch football on TV, and that’s exactly what we did, all day. Apart from one interlude when we walked into town to visit a basement record shop (all record shops should be in basements, surely?). Peter spent money he wouldn’t have otherwise spent and I held back buying an obscure piece of 70’s vinyl with a hilarious Proto-Porn cover, just for the cover. Because, I forgot to mention, my second favourite fantasy job, would be an album cover designer, preferably working in London in the mid to late Sixties.

My favourite album cover of all time? The Rolling Stones ‘Between the Buttons’, shot by the great Gered Mankowitz when he was a mere teenager, up on Primrose Hill, London after an all-night recording session. The Stones look all bleary, Brain Jones half-dead already, and the druggy vibe is enhanced by the blurred edges of the shot, achieved by Mankowitz using Vaseline on the lens. Great stuff; five anti-heroes post-orgy, hangovers just kicking in. I tried to buy a print a few years back and got a nice note back from Gered himself saying that Decca had binned the transparencies during a clear-out in 1967 – fools – but I still managed to buy an outtake from the same shoot, signed by the man himself. One of my most treasured possessions, apart from my Pink Mankini.

While we were together Peter said one great thing and one wanky thing. While complaining about our wives complaining about us, Peter said that what they don’t realise is that ‘Relaxing is an activity’. Genius, why couldn’t I come up with that; prone on the sofa on a Sunday morning as Mrs H hoovered the front room and clattered in the kitchen getting the lunch ready? I hope Peter imparted that knowledge to his young charges. His job, he also said, required a lot of ‘behaviour management’. I laughed at this, called him a sell-out and a wanker. Could he have foreseen this, back in 1988 in his Halls bedroom showing me the chords to ‘Radio Free Europe’? On the other hand, could I have envisioned my beloved record player rendered inaccessible by piles of kids’ spelling books and maths homework sheets stacked on top of its protective lid?

No.

We all grow up, and the more we learn the more we realise the truth of the saying by the late great George Melly – ‘Youth is wasted on the young’. I would say ‘Hear, hear’ – but I’m going deaf…

And so at Birmingham New Street as the PA system announced that ‘passengers with first class tickets should wait on platform 7a and other ticket holders should make their way to 7b’ I was not forced to haul my bag to my shoulder and traipse down the platform with the rest of the proletariat. No, I could stand my ground. Cheerio standard travellers, I’ve made it. I’m staying here. As the train pulled up I was hoping to be greeted by a carriage decked with gold framed pictures and an attentive butler in a red velour waistcoat, something like the ‘1st class toilet’ scene in the Father Ted ‘airplane’ episode. The truth was a bit more sedate.

There were notable differences. My seat had its own table, and its own plug socket, and even better I actually fitted in it without having to dislocate a knee to aid comfort. And then there was complimentary tea and biscuits too, so complimentary were they that one of my Hobnobs suggested my stubble gave me the air of a young Hugh Jackman. But as with most aspects of life, it seems the thrill was very much in the chase, because my first class experience held a touch of disappointment. For a start I had the carriage to myself, so I was unable to observe how the other half lived at close quarters, or partake in some light political banter or discussions about the finer points of the British judicial system with my travelling companions. Instead I was dealt a type of travelling karma as a combination of my tilting Pendolino train and complimentary cuppa combined to leave me staggering off the train at Watford Junction feeling a little bit queezy. Still, you only live once.