Skip to main content

Mystery of Killester

Apologies for the absence – Athens called and archaeology of the Classical kind took over my thoughts (and baklava, yum!). But Monastiraki Metro Station’s (opened 1895) mirroring of the rounded arcade of the opposite Tzistarakis Mosque (built 1759 and now a museum) and the looming Parthenon (started c.447 BC) provided me with the picture-postcard of architectural and engineering metamorphoses from the ancients to the present-day.

Monastiraki Station on the right mirroring Tzistarakis Mosque on the left with the Acropolis looming large in the centre.

The marblesque magnificence of Greece may seem completely unconnected to Ireland, but key features from Classical architecture crop up in all kinds of places, especially Irish railway buildings. Symmetry, pointed pediments and squared-functionality can be found in workshops, for example. The ‘Parthenons of Practicality’ perhaps? Or perhaps I need to calm down.

Parthenons of Practicality? The Athenian temple and the GNRI's engineering workshops

Unfortunately my jaunt to Killester Station left me with no architectural references as the former station no longer exists. It is on record as being opened in 1845, closing two years later and reopening at the present DART site 200 metres north in 1923, possibly just as a halt. All that can be found at (what one assumes to be) the original site is a car park which slopes down toward the track. 

Car park at Killester looking toward the tracks. 
A silent British Pathe video from 1922 entitled ‘Train Disaster Scenes At Killester’ shows the derailment of a GNRI train from the embankment with the road bridge clearly visible, but a station or platform cannot be seen.


As described in the Bonkers post, I decided to self-consciously walk around a few surrounding streets as there’s usually some kind of archaeological remains to evidence a station’s existence. Happening upon the Quarry Cottages it was clear from the three single-storey, terraced houses with gabled entrances and my beloved semi-architrave windows that these were related to the railways.

Quarry Cottages

Talking with one of the residents revealed that a former railway employee had lived in one of the houses for many years and that internal red brickwork followed the pattern of pre-GNRI railway buildings. The fronts are now pebble-dashed but it is likely that the same red and yellow-accented brickwork lurks underneath.

Or does it? The name Quarry Cottages hasn’t sat well with me so I’ve decided to do a bit more digging (of the desk-based kind). First, let’s look at the current Google Earth image.

Google Earth.

The triangle to the west of Collins Avenue East is the Irish Rail car park which clearly leads down to the current DART train line. Also to the west and above the car park is a golf course – take note of the water pools. The new road bridge is the wider straight road whilst the original bridge is to its right, curving up to Killester Avenue. Quarry Cottages are just to the north of this.

So, all neat and tidy: the station was to the west of the road bridge with the railway workers’ cottages to the north east. But GeoHive's Historic Map 25 inch (1888-1913) map shows the golf course as a disused quarry (look at the location of the pools, remember!) with Quarry Cottages built. There is no station remember - it closed in 1847 and did not reappear until 1922 and this map was created between this gap.

Historic Map 25 inch (1888-1913).
An earlier map, Historic 6 Inch Black & White (1837-1842) however, shows the Quarry working, but with no cottages. The train line is marked in this map as 'Dublin and Drogheda Railway Progress', showing the creation of the railway line is in process - but its architecture is not.

Historic 6 Inch Black & White (1837-1842).
And so a conundrum: were the cottages built for the quarry, or were they named after the quarry but built for the railway? This is a question I am yet to solve – answers on a postcard please!

Please note these are private residences, respect is required. 

Popular posts from this blog

Spinning at Balbriggan

Recovered from my rather cranky experience at Skerries , my eyes are rewarded and my heart gladdened on the approach to Balbriggan. Arriving from the south and entering the station over John Macneill’s viaduct, a neat, contained lump of a station reassures me as I alight. Designed by George Papworth for the Dublin and Drogheda Railway (DDR) and built in 1853, Balbriggan railway station is a single-storey H-plan brown brick affair, with flanking Romanesque arches. The current stairway from hell take me across the tracks and provide a sweeping view of the beach and harbour, as well as a stairway to heaven: the former piers for the original footbridge. The beats to Talking Head’s Road to Nowhere start bubbling in the back of my mind. Beside the station building and its adjoining flightless steps stands the hammered stone and red brick base of the former, seemingly unadaptable, water tower. A more sympathetic contemporary alteration in the form of glass sliding doors announce

Sweet Dreams at Navan

Upon my first visit to Navan in 2018 in search of the railway station I was astounded that such a large town could have had its train service removed, when much smaller villages along the Sligo and Maynooth routes were still connected to the capital. Little did I know that two years later I would marry a Navan-native, settle in the area and pass the station every day, miffed and mournful at its wasted potential. The line opened with ambition 172 years ago in 1850, built by the Dublin and Drogheda Railway as a branch line from Drogheda to Oldcastle. Boyne Valley Railtour at Navan, 1977, Railway Preservation Society of Ireland My station safari was rewarded by passing over the extant railway tracks at the station’s level crossing – the line is still in operation for Tara Mines – and the heralding of the former station master’s house. A typical two-storey GNR example, its red brick man has been pebbled-dashed, disguising the polychromatic contrast intended for the, still exposed, yellow b

Paradise Lost: Howth Junction and Donaghmede

Alighting onto a post-apocalyptic concrete and steel abyss I surveyed the mesh of stairs, like an Escher lithograph, leading everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. “Where am I?” asked a bemused elderly lady I had stepped onto the platform with: “Howth Junction”. “Oh dear”. Relativity, M. C. Escher, Lithograph, 1953. Oh dear indeed. Where is the front of this ‘station’? I refuse to call it one: it is merely a set of stairs and a lift. Following signs to the exit I’m greeted with a dystopian Alice in Wonderland prospect of turning left into a car park and right along an overgrown, dirty footpath. I choose the latter; at least it might lead somewhere. The path to former station master's house, Howth Junction Dodging filth like the mad hatter, the elegant brick gables, stone lintels and terracotta chimney stacks of the former station master’s house can be spied amongst a wilderness of ivy, grass and razored-fencing. Forlornly neglected, the graceful merging of Classical ped