Flying Scotsman and the Star of the Show

Rail tickets booked and adrenalin flowing in anticipation, we were soon back at the National Railway Museum for the long-awaited Flying Scotsman shindig. The party girl was not at home. All dressed up, at last, she has found she has got plenty of places to go, so she is off flaunting herself, here, there and everywhere, it seems. Back at the main venue, the celebrations go on without her. Under the subdued, ambient lighting of the Station Hall Gallery, an imaginative, uncluttered and carefully presented display of her historical importance to the nation awaits the lady’s return.

Following her momentous and triumphant journey from Kings Cross to York in February, when hundreds of thousands of well-wishers crowded the lineside - some of them even invading her personal space and getting a bit too close for the comfort of those trying to run a railway – now everybody wants a piece of her. No wonder, then, that for the moment at least, she can only be the flightiest of hosts during her own Flying Scotsman jamboree.  

For those surprised by her temporary absence, there is at least one previously unseen gem amongst all the goodies she has left behind back at base. After being hidden away for decades, it is now being given a right good airing and not before time, seizing the limelight during the celebrity’s continued meanderings.

Eminent twentieth century painter, Frank Mason, best known for his maritime scenes, was commissioned many times by the London and North Eastern Railway and later by British Railways. They employed his skills to promote travel by train to a range of UK locations and most notably to those along the North Sea coast.

The quad royal size poster, “East Coast by LNER It’s Quicker by Rail,” shows the Flying Scotsman locomotive in her 1930’s, apple green livery at the head of the crack London to Edinburgh express of the same name, emerging from a tunnel and with yet another section of the magnificent coastline that typifies Northumberland and Berwickshire stretching out ahead of her.

It is a dramatic and powerful image. Speed and purpose are effortlessly conveyed, as connecting rods and pistons thrash. A red glow from the firebox flickers off the smoke and steam, trapped momentarily inside the tunnel mouth. The train bursts out into golden sunlight as passengers settle back to enjoy the wonderful coastal scenery that provides the highlight of the same trip north today. It is a masterpiece, capturing a moment in time with dynamism and poise.

This poster is certainly rare, if not unique. It belongs to my friend, John Beck, and it has been in his possession since 1988, when he acquired it from one of the leading specialist auction houses. The poster does not show up on the website of the Science and Society Picture Library, which oversees historical posters on behalf of the National Railway Museum and the other centres within the National Science Museums group. The NRM informed John that they do not have a copy, hence their eagerness to pursue the loan in this instance. Their representative dealing with the current arrangement said they had not seen it before.

A poster of the same description, apart from the addition of the word “Route” after “East Coast” in the main title, was sold at a Legbourne, Lincolnshire, auction in May 1999. Both forms of this title were used across a range of posters during the 1930s and they made use of a variety of different images, in addition to this one.

It is certainly a very special survivor. John has had it professionally conserved and backed to linen. It usually shares pride of place in the hallway of his home, taking its turn with some other notable quad royal examples, behind an easy-access, draw-down, Perspex display frame.

This is the poster’s first outing in nearly 30 years and that provides an opportunity for it to be much more widely admired. It will not disappoint. If you are contemplating a visit to the Starring Scotsman exhibition, which is open until June 19^th 2016 as part of the Scotsman Season at the National Railway Museum, it awaits your attention. Even if you find that the lady of the house is still doing the rounds of her well-wishers, the new “Star of the Show” will ensure that your attendance is a fulfilling experience.

A Brief Encounter with Carnforth

It was a regular port of call for us on our way to youth hostelling holidays in the Lake District in the 60s and 70s. We were attracted to one of the last operating steam depots on BR [below left, 1968] and after that to its reincarnation, keeping the coal burning as Steamtown Carnforth [below right, 1974]. It had been one of the last bastions against the inevitable tide of diesel encroachment. This latest encounter was a last minute choice after the cancellation of our intended steam special.

The station buildings are now born again as a museum of steam railway memorabilia and gift shop, with the adjacent and refurbished 40s style café trading on renewed interest in the film Brief Encounters, in the age of the DVD. Taking a stroll round the back of the currently beleaguered West Coast Railway Company’s establishment, we were hard-pressed to see any evidence of its role as a major provider of steam hauled excursions on the main network, apart from a set of pristine carriage stock, the sheds themselves and the concrete coaling stages. Any steam locomotives present were secreted away well beyond the gaze of the inquisitive and the faithful. The proliferation of diesels that were in view, especially of classes 37, 47 and 57 and most smartly attired in the maroon WCRC house colours, indicated a more recent railway heritage.

After the customary photograph beneath the famous platform clock, we got our feet under the table in the Brief Encounter café and made ourselves at home for the day. Elevenses, a light lunch and afternoon cake followed, all accompanied by numerous substantial pots of un-tea-bagged tea and either side of our tour of the museum and our reflective wanderings around the site. Welcoming staff detailed the link with David Lean’s cinematic masterpiece and speculated over possible future additions to celebrate other examples of his work.

Pendolinos sped by on the main line, where we had once enthused over a handful of surviving Standard 7s, 9Fs, Mickeys and 8Fs, and where, a generation before that, un-rebuilt Scots and Patriots had provided the swirling, steamy backdrop for Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson’s rather agonising “should we or shouldn’t we” deliberations towards the end of those wartime years.

The café staff finally took a break huddled round a corner table, no doubt wondering if we would ever leave. A large bunch of keys already dangling from the door lock provided us with a clue that closing time had already passed so we eventually offered our thanks for their having to put up with us all day, whilst we had rather publicly relived our past. We then re-joined the succession of modern units on today’s railway that would eventually see us returned to the present day.

My Must-Have Train Spotting Accessory

I go to the gym. It’s boring but I think it’s probably a good idea overall. I am not known - at the gym or anywhere else, for that matter - for being fashionably turned out. I wear what I have always worn; cheap trainers, tee-shirt and whatever shorts are available. I almost certainly stand out as being amazingly non-descript. What amazes me is what people carry around with them in there.

In addition to the co-ordinated specialist gym wear, you can be sure that at any one time there will be towels, drinks bottles, books, mobile phones, i-pods, paper tissues [left behind on the machines in the drink holder recess - lovely], various performance monitoring pieces of equipment [don’t ask me], bags [there are lockers], bunches of keys, head bands and other stuff for keeping hair in place, hats [HATS! - IT’S INSIDE AND IT’S SWEATY], print-out gym programme sheets and an outer layer that has to be peeled off whilst trying not to fall off the tread mill.

Then there are the guys who have gone off at a tangent and decided that they should make the gym a retirement activity and maybe have been nudged in that direction by medical advice, but who have never taken regular exercise since compulsory cross-country at school, and who suddenly turn up in a pair of walking trousers, a shirt with a collar, a short sleeved pullover knitted by their wife some time during the previous millennium and a pair of grubby white plimsolls, circa 1969. Perhaps they make me look really cool by comparison, but on the other hand, maybe not.

Cold and unloved at Barry scrapyard on the last day of 1967 in the photo – and that’s me on top, as well, displaying the statutory anorak, of course. The alternative duffle coat never really appealed to me, but I have long since upgraded to cagoules, which had not been invented then. What strikes me about this pose, however, is the short length of my trouser leg. That must have been a bit draughty. At least they would not get snagged whilst clambering over any rusting hulks that happened to be lying in my path.

Not long ago, I enhanced my train spotter’s kit by buying a pair of goggles. I should have done this 55 years ago, but, as I’ve already admitted and various family members will confirm, I’m not the quickest on the uptake, when it comes to being hip. They would have been very useful between

1960 and 1968 in saving me from serious [though thankfully short-lived] pain, when travelling immediately behind many a steam locomotive with my head stuck out of the front carriage window. I have already made use of them on the Scarborough Spa Express behind Royal Scot Class No. 46115 Scots Guardsman, over the Settle and Carlisle behind Black Five 45305 and on one or two of the heritage railways as well. In all cases, I have found the enhanced, goggle-eyed, experience most invigorating. This item is definitely not going to be a railway antique for some time to come.