Coal Mining around Welbeck

The exhibition at the Harley Gallery near Worksop lasts until 3^rd January 2027. Entitled Coal Mining Stories, it includes art work by former miners like Brian Morley, whose booklet is also on display alongside some examples of his drawings. The one showing the underground railway that took miners from the foot of the shaft to the coal face reminded me of my only visit to a working pit, at Bentinck colliery in the 1980s. It seemed to go on for miles and remains the strangest railway journey I’ve ever taken. Two others that come close were the Post Office Railway, which is part of their London museum and which was a tad more claustrophobic, and the ghost train at Wilkie’s outdoor fairground in New Brighton during the 1950s, which probably wasn’t nearly as scary as our coal mine experience during a “fact finding” mission for geography teachers that primarily taught us how lucky we were to be in the classroom for a living, even though we may not have thought so at the time.

    

Wide Angle View in Liverpool

Tate Liverpool is currently closed for renovation and has temporarily moved across the dock to RIBA [the Royal Institute of British Architects] North at Mann Island. The photo exhibition, Wide Angle View, is well worth a visit, nevertheless. It’s based on the nine pamphlets that made up the Manplan series, dating from 1969/70, which investigated the relationship between modern architecture for residential areas and the impact it was having on social spaces for the people who lived there. 

Those of us who have lived through the upheavals in our inner cities that followed the post-war years in the 1960s, remember only too well the impact those changes had on our urban landscapes. I suppose that my overall conclusion would be that much that was of value was removed, that much that replaced it was second-rate from a number of perspectives and that the inhabitants were not always prioritised in the way that they should have been. Awards for modern architects flowed, but in many cases, their flawed schemes simply left problems for those who followed them to address.

The work of a series of urban street photographers from the time shows how bleak and depressing these grey, concrete urban landscapes sometimes became, while many communities were decimated, relocated and continued to struggle. The work that stood out for me was by Ian Berry. Much travelled, he made his reputation in South Africa recording politics and social strife, later moving to London where he photographed city life, including a number of railway-related scenes, like the overcrowded commuter train pictured here. Sadly, Ian Berry died just last Sunday, aged 92. I’m pleased to have caught up with this fraction of his work at such a poignant moment. 

 

A Man Down at Llangollen

We were one short yesterday on the Llangollen and Corwen Railway. They were, quite rightly, busy celebrating their 50^th anniversary as a heritage railway, but, initially, at least, we had another priority. Some of Andy’s ashes were to be disposed of appropriately on the railway. It was his favourite line and he had visited it many times during his lifetime, which subsequently coincided with the fifty years of the re-born L&CR. It seemed like a good fit, therefore, to be celebrating our good friend Andy’s life on the same day.

John arranged a footplate moment for us all, even clearing it beforehand with the managing director, but also with faultless and considerate co-operation from the footplate crew of ex-GWR 2-8-0 No 3802, for which we were very grateful, as we effectively interrupted them in their duties. Andy’s ashes were duly delivered to the firebox on the fireman’s shovel. In retrospect, I can’t think that he would have preferred it any other way. That concluded, we were not just a man down for the rest of the day, but for the rest of our lives, too.

Andy certainly added something to our twice-yearly, lads’ days out on the trains, generously dispensing his extra-large packets of peanuts and plentiful supplies of Tunnock’s caramel wafers. Deliberate and emphatic pronouncements, usually issued in a way that was not exactly expecting a response from anyone else, were interspersed with examples of quirky good humour, sparingly used, but always lurking there and waiting for the right opportunity to further lighten the day.

Andy brought us here to Llangollen after the railway had been closed by BR in the mid-60s and before it reopened fifty years ago this weekend. He drove us all round this part of North Wales in his parents’ Hillman Minx. We found our way up to Brymbo, when the tracks to the steel works were still down and being used, as well as to the old lead mine site at Minera and a pub near World’s End, that I can’t find a trace of today during a brief search.

Andy was right about the L&CR, too, because it is special. The Dee-side setting is as picturesque a route as any offered by the other heritage lines. Temporarily hampered by financial woes that threatened its continued existence, the railway has bounced back magnificently in more recent times. They get their PR spot on. They are most welcoming and accommodating at every turn, and their online presence provides a lesson to other comparable set-ups in how to relate positively to their potential customers.

We took the slow train from Carrog to Corwen and completed the round trip to Llangollen and back behind No. 3802 before a leisurely lunch at the Grouse Inn. Fitting in another there and back trip to Llangollen in the afternoon for tea and cake, having persuaded the café on the terminus platform to stay open just a little longer while we cleared them out of “school cake”, we were rewarded with some very spirited running from the ex-GWR panier tank No. 7754 up the hill and back to Carrog in the non-corridor suburban stock. We finally went our separate ways after another rewarding day in each other’s company. We shall remember Andy by just carrying on carrying on. Life is short and nothing lasts for ever. It’s important to have things to look forward to and things to look back on, as well as enjoying the moment on the day. We’ve packed a lot into the sixty-six years since our friendship group began to take form and we’ve far from finished yet. Andy would expect nothing less from us. 

   

Norman Cornish

Entitled A Life in Sketchbooks, this exhibition at the Bowes Museum runs until 3^rd January 2027. It follows on from another exhibition of his work, Kith and Kinship, which also included works by LS Lowry, at the same location two years ago. Based on the 269 sketch books he used while out on the streets during his lifetime, it is a fascinating insight into the industrial north east of England before de-industrialisation so radically altered the urban landscape for ever.

Born in Spennymoor in 1919, Norman Cornish worked as a coal miner from the age of fourteen, whilst simultaneously developing his distinctive artistic style, with which he recorded the community he grew up in. His work is very evocative; stressing characterful personalities and their inter-relationships, communicating a jostling, physical mutual support and that feeling of camaraderie and intimacy that so typifies the former mining areas. He also paints the urban landscape itself, which already seems to be a world away, even to those of us who can remember it well, as we looked on from the outside.

I’m somewhat ambivalent about Bowes Museum, itself, which we have visited a number of times. On the one hand, I really like their smaller gallery temporary exhibitions like this one on Norman Cornish. They are clearly laid out, clearly explained, thoughtfully lit and manageable in terms of available time. The café, too, is way, way above average. I find the whole presence of the place so cavernous and overbearing, though, and the large hall which is full of classical paintings from head to foot - and it’s a very tall room, seems to me to be just not the way to show off works of art, assuming, of course, that they are worth showing off in the first place. Nevertheless, I’ll keep a look out for future exhibitions. Its not far off the A66, which seems to have become a very familiar route to the hills for us over the years.

   

The Eden Valley Railway

 

You can see the lines of carriages from the A66, as we have done a number of times as we have whizzed past on our way to the Lake District, on days the EVR has not been open. Last week they were running trains on the Monday, in the form of their ancient-looking but in fact 1957-built, BR Southern Region Class 205 Thumper unit DEMU No. 205009, so we took the opportunity for a look round. The staff were welcoming and the usual facilities were available, but it was still rather quiet for a pleasant day in the school summer holiday.

The original railway was also part of the trans-Pennine Stainmore route from Tebay and Penrith to Darlington. This particular resurrection has not got very far out of Warcop station on its way to eventually re-establishing the line as far as Appleby, but the signalbox still stands on the platform and is open to visitors and there is plenty of stock to inspect in the sidings including a Class 47 and a number of diesel shunters. The return trip to the current terminus at Southfield is 2.2 miles away.

Some of these ventures obviously struggle more than others. I guess that’s down to acquiring the numbers of volunteers with the right skills, made more difficult if your location is relatively remote and you are not in a tourist area. The EVR seems to be more on the way to places rather than an obvious attraction in its own right. There are clearly some very dedicated individuals involved in all these projects, but I do wonder how dispiriting it might be to see rather piecemeal progress being made as time inevitably ticks by.

The heritage railways can be very different from each other in terms of the visible progress they have made over the decades. This reflects their location and proximity to potential customers as much as anything else, though a multitude of factors are actually involved. It can also be affected by the existence of, or the potential for, a direct link to the national rail system. Some have made enormous strides in living memory and others not so much. They all rely heavily on volunteer labour, too, of course, which may or may not always be either available or forthcoming.

Where there is a tangible goal in sight, like the re-uniting of two formerly linked stretches of line or the reopening of a junction station on the main line, I can see why there might be that added determination to make things happen. It may also help with fund raising, as the concern can sell an idea that people can more easily identify with and one which can become a reality within a relatively short time.

All the heritage railways seem to have significant numbers of stalwart figures amongst their ranks, who give limitless amounts of their time, perhaps without even a thought about the end game. I have enormous admiration for these unsung heroes of the preservation movement. Without them, we would not have the recognisable and successful railway heritage movement that so many of us value and cherish.

Threlkeld Quarry and Mining Museum

It was at the platform on Threlkeld station in the summer of 1962, that I climbed down from the footplate of the Ivatt Class 2 after what is still one of the most exciting events of my life. The driver had summoned me up front at the first stop after leaving Penrith and I sat on his seat while the loco bucked and shook its way towards Keswick. Totally exhilarated by my experience, I dismounted at Threlkeld in case there were any inspectors around at our destination, as was explained to me at the time. It was the start of our family summer holiday but nothing that happened during the rest of the week could match it, though bunking round Carlisle Canal and Kingmoor sheds probably came quite close, come to think of it.

Threlkeld has changed quite a bit since then. The line has closed and the station is no more. Up the hill a bit, though, the granite quarrying operation that was still open in the 60s has left plenty of reminders behind in the form of a mining museum served by a steam-run, two-foot gauge heritage railway which is very much open for tourists, in spite of being perhaps a little off the normal beaten track within Lakeland. The original nineteenth century quarry was not rail connected but after reopening in 1949 a line was laid from the quarry sites down to the “main line” at Threlkeld, where there was also a concrete factory. Granite was excavated for railway ballast and road building, too. When the enterprise closed for the second time in the 1980s, much of the site was still occupied by abandoned machinery and most of the old buildings still stood. It then opened again, this time as a playground for those who want to spend their leisure time operating diggers and excavators, for which this was obviously the ideal location. They still come for the weekend twice a year to pursue their hobby in this most realistic of settings.

The railway operates one steam locomotive, in addition to the diesels. The 0-4-0 saddle tank, Sir Tom, named after Sir Tom Callender of British Insulated Callender Cables, was built in 1926 by Bagnall of Stafford. It formerly worked at BICC’s Kent factory site. It takes the selection of open and covered carriages up the half-mile of track - including one steep section at a 1 in 20 gradient - to the top quarry. There are plans underway to extend the railway in the near future.  

The mining museum is very good. They have a wealth of rock specimens showing the different uses made of the granite, as well as geological maps and diagrams explaining the Lake District’s rich history when it comes to deep level mine working for a wide range of minerals, including in the village of Threlkeld itself. From here they burrowed deep under Saddleback, the mountain that looms over the valley to the north. Extra funding has been acquired for a new museum centre nearer the entrance to the site, which is now well under way close to the old Threlkeld station platform and the track bed of the Cockermouth, Keswick and Penrith Railway that I had the great pleasure of travelling on a number of times during the summers of 1960 and 1962. 

   

Lakeside and Haverthwaite Railway

It’s been a long time since we travelled on this one. In the intervening half a century, or so, the L&HR appears to have just carried on doing its own thing and doing it very nicely. Its own thing is taking full advantage of its Lake District location and selling itself very effectively as a tourist railway. Proximity to the honey-pot sites at Windermere and Bowness helps in this respect and the link with the lake ferries is a key component. Foreign visitors and coach parties are very much part of the formula.

The same three British Railways survivors from the age of steam are still here but although the Ivatt Class 2 was resplendent in the yard, she too was receiving attention, whilst the two unique Fairburn tanks were both out of action in the sheds. It was left to the Hunslet WD industrial No. 25 Sapper, lined out in an attractive Kent and East Sussex Railway livery to provide passenger services on the day.

The short journey up the side of the River Leven passes the important industrial heritage site at Backbarrow, where remaining evidence of eighteenth-century iron making is gradually being appropriately preserved. The hotel we stayed in there was once a factory making the blue dye used in soap powders. I came here by coach as part of a six-form field course based near Carlisle in 1966, and remember our geography teacher, Brian Gordon, pointing out that the windows of the factory were all stained blue as a result of the no-doubt rather uncomfortable working practices taking place inside.