GCR, with the lads

It was the Saturday of the GCR’s two-day spring steam weekend. It was a little cool, showery and blustery when we assembled soon after 9.30 in the station yard at Quorn and Woodhouse. Motive power was provided by visiting engines, Battle of Britain Class No. 34072 257 Squadron, 9F No. 92134 [posing as No. 92073], Austerity tank No. 3809, Hymek Class No. D7018 from the West Somerset Railway and the Class 101 DMU from the home fleet. The BB, on loan from the Spa Valley Railway, and the 9F returning for a further stint on the GC from the North York Moors Railway, are both survivors from Dai Woodham’s Barry scrapyard in South Wales, where we saw them both in decrepit condition in the mid-1960s, now very nearly 60 years ago.

We had never had a lads’ train day on the Great Central before and I was very grateful to my mates for making the relatively long journey over from the Wirral that had necessitated an early start for them all. Our two absentees this time were also in our thoughts as we took a morning cuppa in the excellent Butler Henderson café at Quorn. These get-togethers assume greater significance with the passage of time and we’re already very grateful, I’m sure, for the many days like this one that we’ve enjoyed in each other’s company. Every occasion provides a lasting memory or two that continues to bind us together as lifelong friends. The railway always provides the background, but it’s the people that make the day.

A traverse of the line behind the 9F took us first to Leicester and then on to Loughborough, where we had a quick look round the museum and station before returning to Quorn on the bug cart in time for lunch in the bar at the Manor House, opposite the station entrance. I have to say that we found this experience just splendid. We were made very welcome and a table for five was provided in no time. The food was great and we received excellent service throughout.

As the sun broke through, we took the very full train to Leicester, due, no doubt, to the popularity of the Squadron as our motive power, and travelling first class this time so we were assured of the seats we required in order to sit comfortably and digest our lunch. Finally, it was back to Butler Henderson café at Quorn for another cup of tea and a piece of cake to round off the day.       

Living apart for all these years, these days of reunion have been priceless for me. They allow me to reaffirm friendships, get up to date with family news from the various different quarters, as well as laugh and reminisce about the spontaneity of our youthful past. From 60s spotters to 20s septuagenarians, we are drawn back to our common railway heritage to mull over football, relationships, park life and our place in the world as post-war baby boomers - and all for the “nth time”, not that that matters at all. As Ian Dury put it, “Reasons to be Cheerful, 1, 2, 3” [and probably many more, too].

The final twist on Saturday was that the 9F had been renumbered as 92073. This was presumably because that loco was once employed on the Annesley runners, also known as the fast freight wind-cutters, carrying coal and steel on the GCR in the 1960s. However, she ended up elsewhere, and the shed plate that she bore on Saturday was of 8H Birkenhead Mollington Street that we used to frequent on many a Sunday morning, travelling there by bike from our homes in Wallasey. Sure enough, when I checked out my old spotting books, there she was on Birkenhead sheds on 3^rd January 1967 and it wasn’t even a Sunday -though it was the Tuesday of our Christmas holidays. Some things are just meant to be.

The National Waterways Museum

 A lot has changed since we last visited the Ellesmere Port museum. The jumble of boats in the dock that I remember from long ago has been drastically thinned out. National treasures have been identified, separated and given their space. Information boards have been erected so that we know what we are looking at. Original buildings continue to be restored and the whole enterprise has a much more organised feel to it. It is quite a remarkable set-up with a wealth of historic items on display in the museum itself and under cover in adjoining sheds. Like many such affairs, it depends very largely on the goodwill of enthusiastic volunteers for its continued survival and prosperity. Heritage lottery funding has also helped, of course.

We took the tourist narrow boat for a half hour trip along the Shropshire Union Canal. Our knowledgeable guide contributed in no small part to our enjoyment of the day. This trip took us beneath one railway bridge that is still in use next to Ellesmere Port signalbox No. 4 on the line from Hooton to Helsby [GWR and LNWR Joint], one bridge that was clearly abandoned long ago that led to adjacent sidings, and traces of a third line where tracks formerly served the nearby dock system.

Back at base, original mid-nineteenth century workers cottages have been refurbished and re-equipped with the domestic paraphernalia of the time. An extensive engine house holding an array of Victorian examples could unfortunately not be seen in action because the sole volunteer on duty there needed another colleague alongside him to start them up who was not forthcoming.

The VDU explained in just the right amount of detail how the port eventually developed to make use of the link with the Manchester Ship Canal from the 1890s, before its demise began in the mid-twentieth century, that then led to dereliction before its gradual renaissance in modern times.

The café was doing a roaring trade when we returned from our boat trip and we were very grateful for the enthusiastic welcome we had received from the many staff members and volunteers around the site. 

        

Sit down and relax

That’s the beauty of a train day. Solitude, no responsibilities - just me, camera, notebook and the trains. I’ve planned my itinerary. I’m in good time at the station. This is my “go to” comfort zone - usually.

The ticket machine on the station is still not working, so I ring up customer services. “We know about this”, the voice answers. It’s been on their “to do” list since the11th of January, apparently. In spite of this, I already feel slightly uncomfortable. I haven’t got a ticket before travelling and I’ve got to explain myself again to the conductor. Just like last time, the conductor doesn’t appear before we arrive - five minutes late, this time - into Nottingham. Just like last time, I collar the ticket man as I get off and just like last time, he tells me his ticket machine is not working properly. I have three minutes to catch the connection to Leicester.

“Tell them on board the train”, he says. I walk down the St Pancras-bound express in search of the conductor, who is nowhere to be seen. I stand in the vestibule between carriages A and B so I can see someone coming, as its only twenty minutes until I get off again. No one comes. When I alight, I go straight to the conductor who has suddenly appeared as if from nowhere on the station platform. I explain that this is the third time I’ve tried to buy a ticket. She has no time for this now, she tells me, as the train is ready to leave. “There’s a booth at the top of the stairs. You can buy your ticket there”, she adds, showing just a smidgeon of irritation at being asked about it at all.

“I’ve come from Lowdham”, I blurt out as I embark on my fourth attempt in an hour to buy a travel ticket, but the lady on the other side of the counter senses my exasperation and smiles. “Don’t worry”, she says, and within seconds I’m clutching my passport to the rest of my supposedly carefree day at the still very reasonable price of £10.05 [accompanied by a senior railcard].

And relax!

I know it was irrational. It was their fault not mine. I was in good faith. I was not trying to evade payment. I would not have been subjected to a £100 fine. But I still felt uncomfortable to the extent that I couldn’t enjoy myself fully until it was resolved.

The rest of the time went better than expected. I’d been drawn to a return to Leicester again by a notice on YouTube of the arrival at the depot two days earlier of five Class 68s, three of which would be new to me. In fact, one had already disappeared, but I copped two and got my first look at a new Class 99, No. 99003. The three additional Class 66 cops were the unexpected icing on the proverbial cake.

A young boy came up to me on platform three. He must have been about ten years old. “Are you a trainspotter?” he asked. I smiled and admitted that I was. The evidence was conclusive, after all – warm coat and woolly hat for standing around in the cold, notebook and pen at the ready, well-thumbed loco-shed book alongside me on the bench and a tatty old rucksack that is now reserved for this very purpose. His mum, with an American accent, explained that he was already hooked on trains and that they were wondering where the best places would be to go to see them. They had come down on the train from Loughborough, so I offered hem Derby, Peterborough, Doncaster and Nuneaton as being within relatively easy reach. She mentioned Birmingham, but I think I managed to put her off that subterranean nightmare of a station. I should have added Stafford and Crewe, of course, but they already had plenty to go on. As they thanked me and turned away, I said that watching trains had given me a lifetime’s pleasure and that I hoped he would find similar enjoyment, too. It was a really heartwarming moment.

Then it was back to the business of extracting gentle pleasure from observations in amongst the usually fairly mundane happenings on the national rail network. The 12.36 to Sheffield was cancelled because “more trains than usual are needing repair at the same time”. Well, that was a first and who would have thought it. Sidings around the country are bulging with underused and withdrawn rolling stock, yet the feeling you often get is that the operating companies are constantly teetering on the edge of the resources necessary to run a railway and therefore repeatedly getting caught out with a shortfall when something goes wrong. What it comes down to is not enough employees or multiple units on stand-by. Maybe East Midlands Railway could also take another look at their ticket machines, both those carried by the conductors and the ones on the platform, if they are really interested in improve their image. 

  

 

Doncaster in the Rain

After timetable changes, the 10.49 from Retford to Doncaster is now a Hull Trains service and no longer the previously rostered Class 91 hauled train to York. The booking office at Retford is obviously part of LNER, so I made a point of checking that my anytime day return ticket is valid on other companies’ departures, which I was assured was the case. The ticket only states that it is “valid via any permitted route”, which is not quite the same thing as any permitted companies’ services, nor does it list which ones are “permitted”, either.

The 7 Class 60s recently parked in warm storage at Doncaster Down Decoy yard were partially blocked off by two rakes of wagons as we slowed in the approach to the station, so no photo opportunities there then. I caught a glimpse of them, including the four that were new to me, leaving me with just four more to track down before they, too, run out of work to do on the national network.

On the recently re-landscaped pedestrian approach to Doncaster station is the sculpture “Building Speed”. It celebrates the more than 2,000 locomotives built at Doncaster locomotive works, known as “The Plant”. The collaborative piece initiated by Doncaster Council and installed by CB Arts includes a series of vertical rails inscribed with the names of some of the locomotives built in the town that had carried the names of various winners of the St Leger.

Back inside and out of the rain, the footbridge across the platforms had disappeared since my last visit, though part of it still remains on the west side to allow footplate staff to cross the lines to the sidings and stabling point adjacent to the station.

Doncaster remains its usual busy self with passenger trains, but there is also enough of a freight locomotive mix to keep me interested. At the platform end, I waited patiently while two avid spotters called out the numbers of individual container wagons into their phones. When the train had passed, I asked what the number of the Class 70 was that had just disappeared to the north, light engine. They couldn’t tell me, as the loco did not have its number on the side. I felt a little puzzled by the situation in which wagon numbers had assumed an immediately greater importance than locomotives, but I suppose my own affliction in this direction is really only a matter of scale. I don’t even bother with unit numbers these days, never mind carriage numbers. There are just so many of them. I’d be getting a cricked neck or vertigo by merely trying to record them all. I’ll reserve my passion for actual locomotives, which I find is quite enough to be going on with.

I went elsewhere to discover the identity of the Class 70. “01” said the first person I asked. “001?”, I asked in reply, as there is a second series of Class 70s, starting with 801. He confirmed this with an unconvincing nod, and my suspicions turned out to be justified when No. 70801 eventually pulled into view again. Freightliner yellow doesn’t wear well unless you are going to wash it fairly regularly, I decided, reminding myself at the same time to put my high-vis cycling jacket through the eco-wash programme when I got home. 

     

First train day of the year

I’m in good time at Lowdham station. Last time, it took me ages to work out my requirements on the only ticket machine and it still wouldn’t give me a railcard deduction on my return journey. This time the screens are completely blank. As there is no sign of life, I ring the adjacent help point. I am directed to “Just board the train and tell the conductor the machine is not working”. By the time we reach Nottingham, where I change for Leicester, the conductor has not put in an appearance, so I go to find him. “Go out of the station and buy a ticket at the ticket office”, he says, but I’ll miss my connection if I do that. “I’ll just see if I’ve got a charge on my ticket machine, then”, which unsurprisingly, he has. I nice relaxing start to my day out, then. I’m only here for a bit of unhurried and unworried gentle escapism, after all. Leicester station is as busy as usual. Loads of purposeful business people wait for the London trains. Many are engaged in earnest conversations via their headsets, “The only thing I’d say is two things….”, is a noticeably loud offering that makes me smile. The train back from Leicester is late leaving and signal-checked all the way into Nottingham, by which time I’ve missed the Lowdham train by three minutes and have an hour’s wait, instead. Not the most straightforward of journeys but I didn’t care a bit. I had enjoyed a few hours of mindlessness on Leicester station and even got quite excited when Class 60 No. 60028, which I had not seen before, crept out of the depot before reversing back in and onto another siding. Some new Hitachi Aurora sets were in service with others being tested out. There was no sign of the new Class 99s, unfortunately, but I can wait. In fact, I’m already looking forward to trying again before long. Perhaps they’ll have fixed their platform ticket machine by then, as well. 

   

GCR Winter Steam Gala January 2026

The trains were solid on the Saturday of the gala, which was the best of the 4 days, weatherwise. With 3 visiting engines and regular freight movements, including the oil tanks and the wind cutter set, it was the usual rapid action that we have come to associate with GCR gala days. The only stretch of double track main line on any heritage railway in the country really is the GCR’s own distinctive USP.

Shed Bash

We didn’t refer to it like that in the old days, though it has become spotters’ common parlance since those times. I don’t think we did, anyway. Mists of time, etc. The forecast was for light cloud, which actually turned out to be thoroughly overcast, dark and dismal all day. Additionally, that was an all-day in which whatever daylight could be mustered for photos ended shortly after four. Undetered, I set out on my intended circular tour.

Realtime Trains suggested a light engine movement to Worksop that I could photograph in the station, so I timed my departure accordingly. As I was in good time, I chose instead to go straight to Tesco’s car park where, round the back of the superstore, you get the best view of whatever is being parked outside the Swietelsky maintenance depot. Currently, it is playing host to the first ten Class 93 Stadler-built tri-mode locomotives [electric, diesel and battery] manufactured in and shipped from Spain, whilst they undergo tests on the national network.

The whole concept of bunking round the sheds like we once did is consigned to the dim and distant past. Motive power depots today are guarded fortresses, surrounded by unsightly and off-putting palisade fencing. Spotters are left with two alternatives – lurking near the main gates in the hope of a glimpse of something, or locating a nearby spot where you can get a partial view of the facility. In Worksop, this means round the back of Tesco’s.

I’m immediately joined by a bloke in his car who draws up next to mine. It turns out he is a former employee at the depot and has even been invited to witness a naming ceremony for two diesel shunters this very afternoon. I’m encouraged to see that there are 5 Class 93s present and just visible through the barrier of trees, which as the gentleman points out, are rather more of a problem in summer.

The Class 37 from Derby is now set for an early arrival so I stay put to take my photo of No. 37607 from the same place, as it does a zig-zag approach on the up line, reverses onto the down line at the station and then reverses again to access Worksop Down Yard and the entrance to the sheds, where a high-vis clad operative is waiting to switch the points by hand. We are joined in time to see the action by another two like-minded blokes who are on more of a marathon day trip taking in Leeds Midland Road, which they have already been to, then on to Toton, which is where I’m heading next, before taking in Derby and Burton, at least, before the light fades on them completely.

There they are again on the bank at Toton. The bank is made of boulder clay and it has been raining a lot recently. The paths are all a sticky quagmire and my shoes and the legs of my tri-pod are already decorated with the red mud. My old telescope has a loose eyepiece and I have difficulty focussing it at all, but it’s still useful when it decides to play ball, because Toton depot is some way away over the intervening tracks and sidings. My companions are relying on binoculars and I’m able to help them with a trio of otherwise indecipherable, stored Class 60s.

I complete my round trip after a meal deal at the nearby Morrisons supermarket with a nose into Colwick’s depot on the other side of Nottingham. The light engine movement I’d hoped to intercept on the way at Netherfield had gone past by the time I’d extricated myself from a snarl-up on Main Street. I’d noticed by then that there was no suitable parking space available anywhere near the station, anyway, so that would have been a tricky one to reach in the first place. The depot entrance at Colwick is in an unwelcoming and unsurfaced off-road car park with plenty of large pot holes and puddles, where I stayed long enough to note the two long-term stored locos that were visible, Class 56 No. 56087 and Class 60 No. 60057. Then I went home to sponge the clay off my footwear with a bucket full of warm water.