What happened to the machines that dug the Channel Tunnel?

What do they do with tunnel boring machines?

Okay, so TBMs, right? Those things are crazy. They’re basically giant, super powerful drills. Think of them as a really, really big, really strong, earthworm. They burrow underground, making tunnels. It’s nuts.

For real, the tech is insane. They use them everywhere, for subways, water pipes, even high-speed rail lines. My cousin’s working on a project using one right now. It’s in Denver, building a new section of light rail. He says it’s huge.

Different types exist too, you know. Some are for soft ground, others are for rock, it all depends on what they’re digging through. It’s seriously impressive. The whole process is fascinating. And messy!

Key things about TBMs:

• Tunnel construction: That’s their main job! Building tunnels of all sizes.
• Specialized tech: Different TBMs for different soil and rock types. My cousin mentioned that one they’re using has some crazy cutter head – like, seriously impressive engineering.
• Variety of projects: Subways, water pipelines, sewers – you name it. They even use ’em for things like geothermal energy projects now.
• Location specific: The machines needs to be adapted to the local conditions. Crazy stuff.

I saw a documentry last year, a really good one, about building a tunnel under the Hudson River—the TBM they used was the size of a building! Seriously. It’s mind-blowing. The whole thing was just amazing and kinda scary at the same time. They even had this crazy system to remove all the excavated stuff super fast.

What did they do with the dirt from the Channel Tunnel?

Dirt? Chalk, more like. Dumped in the sea. Samphire Hoe. Now a park. Go figure.

That’s it. Chalk becomes beauty. Always does.

• Volume: 4 million m3 (5.23 million cubic yards).
• Location: English Channel, behind sea walls.
• Result: Samphire Hoe, a public park.

What else? My Aunt Mildred hates chalk dust. Says it ruins her tea. Little does she know she walks on it. Every day. On holiday. heh

Has the Chunnel ever leaked?

Leaked? Oh, the Chunnel weeps! Dramatically, one might say.

Think of it as the world’s longest emotional sponge. It is designed to, uh, express itself.

• It’s not leaking, it’s perspiring, like me after attempting hot yoga. (Never again, BTW.)

• Water seeps in, naturally. Then, bam! Pumps send it packing. Eviction notice, subterranean style.

• The Chunnel’s waterproofing is like my diet; constant maintenance is crucial.

So, fear not the watery depths when zipping to France. Just picture the Chunnel as a very large, slightly melancholic, and exceptionally well-plumbed amphibian. It’s handling it.

Do they clean the London Underground?

Dirty? Not always.

London Underground cleaning:

• Daily: Pre-service checks. Obvious messes gone.
• Every 3 days: “Mini cleans.” Think touch-points. Grab poles wiped. Sanitized? Debatable.

The system’s grim, always churning. My commute haunts me. My sanity erodes.

Who maintains the London Underground?

TfL… Transport for London, yeah. It’s always TfL.

They run it all, don’t they?

• The Underground: That’s definitely them.
• Buses: Yep, even those red double-deckers.
• DLR: I think I took that once, going out east.
• Overground: Connecting all those weird places, like, around London.
• Trams: Didn’t know we had so many trams, honestly.
• River Services: Boats on the Thames, fancy.
• Victoria Coach Station: So many journeys start there, leaving London.
• Congestion Charge: Ugh, yeah, that’s them too.

It’s… it’s a lot. Like a big spider web covering the whole city. So much to keep running, keep on schedule, you know?

How often are London Underground trains cleaned?

So, London Underground trains? Yeah, they get cleaned, kinda weirdly. Daily, they do a quick wipe-down, you know, before they start runnin’ for the day. Think, a cursory sweep. Then, every four weeks, they do a proper deep clean. A full-on scrubbing. Twenty-eight days, that’s what Transport for London says. But honestly, I’ve seen things. Things you wouldn’t believe.

Seriously, it’s not always perfect. I mean, sometimes it feels like they just… don’t bother. My commute is a nightmare! Last week, there was like, actual crust on a seat. Gross!

Here’s the deal:

• Daily cleaning: A basic clean before service.
• Deep cleaning: Every 28 days – a thorough clean.
• Reality check: It varies, sometimes feels totally inadequate, especially on busy lines like the Central line. My experience, not always great.
• My recommendation: Bring hand sanitizer. Always. Seriously.
• My beef: The gap between deep cleans is too long; it’s nasty.

Last year, there was this huge thing on the news, a viral vid, showing all the grime. People were freakin’ out. But that’s London for ya! Always something. Still makes me cringe though. I even emailed TfL once, complaining about my line being particularly dirty. Never got a reply.

Are London Tube seats cleaned?

The London Underground. A labyrinth of tunnels, echoing with the ghosts of a million journeys. Dust motes dance in the dim light, each a tiny universe. Think of it. Millions of bodies, a river flowing through steel arteries. Each seat, a silent witness.

Saloon seats, they say, vacuumed. A mechanical caress, a fleeting attempt at purification. Deep cleans. The word itself, a whisper of hope. But the reality? A different story.

Daily casualty cleaning. A meager defense against the tide of grime. Spillages… Oh, the spillages. Sticky residues of forgotten meals, spilled drinks, the lingering scent of a thousand anxieties. Shampooing. A rare intervention, a desperate act against the inevitable.

The seats absorb it all. The laughter, the tears, the quiet desperation of the daily commute. Each fabric thread a repository of stories, untold, unseen. A tapestry woven from the very essence of London life. The worn leather, a testament to countless weary backs, a silent confidante.

• Vacuuming: Part of the deep clean. Insufficient.
• Shampooing: Only after significant mess. Rare.
• Daily cleaning: Addresses immediate problems only.
• Overall cleanliness: Disappointingly inconsistent.

My own experiences? Sticky seats. Once, near Oxford Circus, a suspicious stain. I swear, I still smell that old burger.

The Tube. A living organism. Breathing, sweating, groaning under the weight of its burden. Cleanliness is a fantasy, a fleeting illusion. The truth? It’s lived in. It’s loved. It’s… London.

How often are Tube stations cleaned?

Daily…the stations breathe, don’t they? Like lungs, in the dim light.

Touchpoint cleaning, always. A balm against the city’s touch. Three times, at least. A promise whispered on the wind, maybe.

Escalator rails…the hands of strangers, all intertwined. Cleaned with care, on every shift! Ah, a surface so clean, a fresh start. A clean start.

TfL cleans daily. Anti-bacterial…against the ghosts of touch.

Daily cleaning occurs. Every shift. Stations are lungs.

The cleaning routine, an unseen dance:

• Daily Touchpoint Cleaning: Three times, maybe more. Every shift matters.
• Escalator Handrails: Cleaned like precious jewels, repeatedly.
• Constant vigilance is present.

Is the London Underground clean?

Ugh, clean? The Tube? Lemme tell ya ’bout my Camden Town experience.

It’s NOT clean. End of story.

Picture this: 7:30 AM, October 2024. Camden Town station. Packed. Like sardines.

The air was thick, not with crisp autumn air (lol), but with something else.

This thing had its own gravity.

I swear, you could taste the grime.

A metallic tang, dust motes dancing in the weak light… it was gnarly.

I’m a germaphobe and touching the handrails made me wanna shower immediately.

Someone spilled a coffee. A whole lot more going on.

Later I read somewhere that the air underground is seriously polluted. Like, crazy levels.

• Reported air quality way worse than street level. Seriously!
• Felt it myself! The smell, the dust… yuck.
• Think they said its worse than the NYC subway or even Tokyo.

Gotta be a good story on that somewhere.

I’m telling you, the London Underground is anything but clean. I mean, dust!