Train Spotters 2

After the novel “Trainspotting” [Irvine Welsh, 1993], the film “Trainspotting” [Danny Boyle, 1996], there is now a play “Trainspotting Live” [Harry Gibson, 1996, showing at The Vaults, London, 3/11/16-15/1/17] and soon there will be a follow-up film “Trainspotting 2” [also to be known as “T2,” Danny Boyle, January 2017 and based on Irvine Welsh’s novel, “Porno”].

I thought it wise to act now before the inevitable clamour for Train Spotters 2.

I hope this is not a major disappointment, but I have to admit that there are currently no plans for a sequel to “Train Spotters” [Countyvise Ltd, 2011]. I know this decision flies in the face of reason given the critical acclaim it received [“……hugely enjoyable….……a real gem….……well written and very readable….……well illustrated throughout…..Highly recommended. ****”, Steam Railway, March 2012].

Add to this that I sold my entire allocation of 60 copies and could actually have distributed a few more since then, and my decision is probably baffling to most. The demise of the original publisher in 2015 means that a reprint is now also very unlikely.

I can confirm that I have not yet come across a single copy in any of those discarded piles of old railway books that turn up on the tables at sales and side auctions or are gifted to the heritage railway second-hand book shops. Why not? Obviously because people are wising up. If you are lucky enough to possess one, my advice would be to hang on to it. Who knows where this roller-coaster of inspirational literature is heading?  

From now on I will be looking out for it on lists of rare and antiquarian books. Shakespeare’s First Folios move over.

So how do I justify my exercise in self-restraint from total devotion to Train Spotters 2?

 Always leave them wanting more. Look at Fawlty Towers – just 2 series. Brilliant.

The Class 66 up for the Turner Prize

Josephine Pryde was born in Alnwick, Northumberland in 1967 and she lives and works in London and Berlin. She is one of the four Turner Prize finalists nominated for the 2016 award whose work is currently on display at Tate Britain in London. The winner of the competition will be announced on the 5^th December 2016 and the show is on until the 8^th January 2017.

She has been short-listed on the basis of her exhibition at the CCA Wattis Institute in San Francisco, which was entitled, “lapses in Thinking By the person I Am” [her choice of capital letters]. In this new location, her entry is called, “The New Media Express in a Temporary Siding [Baby Wants To Ride].” The work contains a static, large scale model of Class 66 diesel locomotive No. 66152 in DB Schenker livery at the head of two British-style carriages adapted with footrests to potentially seat up to four passengers. The train stands on a short, straight section of track that runs the length of a wall display showing what have been described as conceptual photographs. The carriages have been tagged by graffiti artists from the cities where the work has previously been exhibited.

The reason for the change of title appears to be that she has de-commissioned the moving train that visitors to her display in San Francisco, Berlin and Bristol were able to ride on and replaced it with this stationary version.

I do try, I promise you, but it is not clear to me:

-          what the significance of the train is and its connection to the photos on the wall,

-          why the train is not operating in this particular setting as it has been elsewhere,

-          indeed, if a moving train was an essential ingredient of what the artist was trying to convey, how can the work still communicate the same meaning now that it is a motionless exhibit

-          why I can’t find any explanation for the change, online.

I have seen a photo of the installation where some leaves had been placed on the line ahead of the locomotive, but I have seen others where there are no leaves visible at all, so I’m not sure if someone was making an official [or an unofficial] point by doing that, or not. Though it will be possible to take photos in the exhibition at the Tate, apparently, I’m unlikely to be shelling out on this occasion for the privilege of doing so.

Please leave a comment if you are able to enlighten me. In the meantime, here is a picture of a real Class 66 diesel that gave every appearance of being usefully employed on the day that I took the photograph.

Frank Johnson, "Acclaimed Artist"

Browsing through the GW Railwayana Auction catalogue prior to their 25 July 2015 sale, my attention was drawn to a group of six original paintings by Frank Johnson which were to be offered in successive lots. This was not a name I knew, and I presumed that it was likely, therefore, that Frank was not known primarily as a railway artist, but someone who had dipped into the railway arena for a relatively short time.

Born in Leicester, Frank Johnson, 1917-1998, was a commercial and portrait artist who taught at Bradford Regional College of Art from 1952 up to his retirement in 1980. David Hockney was one of his students. Celebrating 175 years of its existence, Bradford College’s online website described Frank Johnson’s portraits as tender, compassionate and sensitive. He specialised in pictures of people in their working environment, as was shown on the BBC’s “Your Paintings” website that show-cased 17 such examples.

During his lifetime, Frank exhibited his work at the Royal Academy, Bradford City Art Gallery, the Huddersfield Sports Centre Gallery and the Museum of Modern Art at Skopje, in the then Yugoslavia. Today, his paintings are in public collections at galleries in Bradford, Leeds and Glasgow. His work is said to have been influenced by Walter Sickert and the Euston Road School [1937-9], emphasising naturalism and realism. This style has also been described as being part of the “Kitchen Sink” art movement.    

The Pershore examples clearly managed to convey the importance of workers in blue overalls to the British Railways scene. Though railway artists do include personnel in their paintings to a greater or lesser extent, they tend not to let their figures get in the way of the locomotives, much in the same way as railway photographers, who will sometimes wait for ages for people to vacate their field of view. I’ve noticed that they can get quite steamed up themselves in the process.   

I like these paintings. The larger than life facial features, the washed out, creased blue overalls, the grease top and other flat hats and the general bustle, all remind me of the sheer number of employees that there were in those places. Crewe Works was teeming with men when our crocodile of fresh-faced youngsters in school uniform threaded its way through the various shops, as we frantically wrote down numbers as though our lives depended on it, at the same time trying to avoid falling into the pits between the rails or snagging our shorts on protruding pieces of metal.  

There is certainly attention to detail in these pictures and the locomotives themselves are fairly convincingly replicated by someone who probably did not necessarily see himself as a “train man” in the same way that we perhaps like to think that we are as lifelong devotees. Having said that, my own photograph of A2 Class No.60537 Batchelor’s Button on Carlisle Canal shed taken in August 1962, shows the smokebox door number plate as being below the hand rail, not above it. The mistaken labelling of Britannia Class No. 70022 Tornado as Venus [which was 70023] might be an indication that the artist was operating a bit outside of his comfort zone when it came to railways.

These six paintings were sold at a fine art auction in May 2013 as one combined lot, for £600 [£750, including buyer’s premium]. According to a regional newspaper article dated 13 June 2013, the group had been secured by a provincial art gallery. Information available on internet link pages indicated that at least three of them - and presumably therefore all six - had price tags there of £1,500 each. Prior to Pershore, the gallery’s own website showed the images as sold but did not reveal for how much.

So how does an artist like Frank Johnson achieve “acclaimed” status? Who is doing the acclaiming and with what justification? I asked two friends who are fine art graduates and who work in design for a living. They were quite scathing about the use of the word “acclaimed” in these circumstances. “Would it happen in the world of science? It’s a common ploy to dress things up. I could similarly claim to have work in private collections and permanent collections in the UK and abroad.” I took the point.

“Acclaimed” scientists don’t have to be so described because their achievements largely speak for themselves and are, to a degree, measurable. Their ideas and contributions may be widely accepted by their peers and their work could have led to practical applications that served to prove the point. Art is so much more subjective. To place a painting in an exhibition only indicates that you have managed to persuade someone to give it house room for a time. That is not necessarily a big ask and presumably may not be free from inducements.

It would be easy to get very cynical about all this. Perhaps David Hockney didn’t rate his teacher too highly. Surely, “acclaimed” in this context means other practitioners of repute have agreed that this is work of high quality? In praising the work of another they would also then be putting their own reputation on the line. Mind you, you would have to expect that the Royal Academy were going to be a bit picky about who they gave wall space to, at any time. On Bradford College’s alumni website, one of Frank Johnson’s former pupils described him as “very inspirational” and the “biggest influence” on them all. They liked the fact that he was not just a teacher but a practising artist who was prepared to work on his own paintings in front of them. The implication was that some other art teachers had already “hung up their brushes” by that stage. 

In a brief exchange with one of the galleries where Frank Johnson’s work had previously been exhibited, I was told that GWRA had received a lot of interest in the forthcoming sale of this tranche of paintings. That’s a shame, I thought, as my prospects of being able to afford one took an immediate and possibly irremediable nose dive.

At the auction, I managed a close-up peek at the lots before bidding began. The pictures all seemed to be a bit dark, just as they had appeared to be in both the paper and the online versions of the catalogue. Most had been laid out flat on a table in an even darker corner of the viewing space, at other times of the year better known as the stage in the school hall, so they were hardly shown off at their best.

One or two potential punters were admiring them and a couple of others surmised about what figures they might reach, in their capacity as unknown quantities. After the fairly lengthy blurb that had been offered for them in the catalogue, the auctioneer chose not to talk them up any further when the moment came.

Three went for £200, one for £250 and two failed to sell. What a damp squib they had turned out to be. I suddenly felt a bit sorry for Frank Johnson, or rather, I felt relieved that he is not around to have to face the ignominy of such widespread rejection. There was very little interest in his work from the railwayana fraternity on the day. Soon after the auction, the two unsold paintings were available for purchase from GWRA at a reserve price of £300.

Acclamation seemed a world away. In fact, Frank hit such a wall of disinterest and it was so quiet in the hall that for a moment I thought everyone else had simply upped sticks and gone down to the pub. You can take some hammer blows as an artist – almost literally, in this case - if you dare to subject your best efforts to the hard-nosed arena that is the auction. This is not quite the same thing as the usual dealing in anonymously cast pieces of metal that we are more used to. You are putting a part of you on the line. It could end up being quite a painful experience, though Frank Johnson himself has at least been spared that. People are voting for you on a very personal basis by risking their hard-earned cash. I quite admire the few, including Joe Townend, who are prepared to risk it - and with some success in his case, it should be said.

My advice to other would-be railway artists is not to put people in front of the engines. We railway folk tend not to go for that. Our relationship, such as it is, is primarily with the locomotive. That is not to say that the setting is not important. It needs to be convincing and it could well, therefore, include railway employees, bystanders and the travelling public. Just don’t let them get in the way too much.

What have I learnt myself from the experience? That I don’t know a lot about art? Maybe, but I’m making an effort to find out a bit more. Would these images fare better on another day, in another place? I doubt it, and now there is a precedent that will only serve to confirm prevalent attitudes should they surface again. They are likely to be seen as two hundred pound pictures - just about. That means they barely warrant comparison with the acknowledged masters of the genre. Rob Rowland, Artist and Illustrator - and not just of trains - and someone whose work certainly does command respect, was manning his own stall in a side room at the same event while all this was going on.

Anyway, I’m not too despondent, because, as you might have guessed, I now have my own reminder of Crewe Works in the early 1960’s, showing a locomotive that I saw “in the flesh” many times, in a place that I loved to visit. The picture takes me back. I can feel the atmosphere. I am staring intently at the string of green namers, inhaling the smells and listening to the voices - the banter and all the ribbing that was going on there over half a century ago. My prompt for this is an original oil painting by a “competent artist” and it was only a couple of hundred quid. Thanks, Frank. RIP. 

  

They that go down to the sea in ships

I like churches. We always visit them when we are in a new place, usually after the tourist information centre and the station. Some churches smell better than others, though, and the attraction of history, heritage and art [I noticed a modern and meaningful stained glass window for the first time in Southwell Minster only days ago] can be somewhat mitigated by ones that are overhung by stale air [not the case in Southwell, I hasten to add].

I also like church music – not necessarily religious music but pieces that I associate with being played in church. High on my list of favourites are Widor’s Toccata and Handel’s Messiah. That made me think about some of the hymns that I liked that we sang as youngsters, both in church and at school, and the carols, like In the Bleak Mid-Winter, that still move me at Christmas, which is the one day in the year that I regularly go to a church service.

In Liverpool, most recently, we wandered into the former Mersey Docks and Harbour Board building, dating back to 1907. It is one of the well-known Three Graces on the waterfront and today it is known as the Port of Liverpool building. Modern offices surround the central lobby, which is still very grand with its marbled floor and towering dome. The frieze around the wrought iron balustrade that overlooks the reception area reads, “They that go down to the sea in ships that do business in great waters, these see the work of the lord and his wonders in the deep.”

That strikes me as being very evocative and succinct. With so many connections to Liverpool seafarers in our family, it just adds to a feeling of recognition and gratitude to those relatives past who put their lives at risk and, in some cases, did not make it home again. I had a vague recollection that I had seen these words before, but only by checking it out did I realise that this is an extract from Psalm 107 [verses 23 and 24]. There is some fine verse in the Bible, I thought, perhaps a little belatedly.

Appreciation of quality in religiously inspired writing and song has not made me a religious person, I have to admit, but at least I benefit to some extent, by sharing the wonder in the ways that it is expressed from time to time - in the buildings themselves, their design and construction, their contents, and in the activities which take place within them.

In the same way, I always listened with my parents to that most jingoistic of events, the Last Night of the Proms. It did not turn any of us into fervent flag-waving nationalists. We just thought the music was good. I hope that I learnt from my parents not just tolerance and an ability to appreciate a wide range of stimuli but also not to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Quality is quality and it is all around us.     

Public Art and the City of Birmingham

Birmingham is planning a major piece of public art in one of its central spaces. The cost will be two million pounds and it will be in place by 2018. The designated site is the western entrance to the current Eastside City Park. The five shortlisted examples in the Big Art Project competition - from which the winner will be chosen in January 2017 -are currently being showcased in miniature on the ground floor of the magnificent Library of Birmingham.

Roger Hiorns’ entry is made up of two model locomotives –  elongated versions of a Stanier Coronation Class Pacific, one of which is lying on its side. This is how his piece is described.

The “locomotive train” referred to appears to mean just the locomotive and tender. As can be seen from the photo of the work, in the model, at least, the skin tone finish and the moulding is abandoned for the tender that is on its side.

Think Tank is the city’s science museum, which lies just to the east of the centre. It houses Stanier Coronation Class 4-6-2 No. 46235 City of Birmingham. My clearest recollection of her is when she called at Chester General station in the early 1960’s on a Holyhead to London Euston express. After her withdrawal in September 1964, she was donated to the city council by British Railways. She has been a museum exhibit ever since, somewhat overlooked when compared to her two surviving and much higher profile class mates, often referred to simply as “Hamilton” and “Sutherland,” such is the familiar affection that they command in railway circles.

I’m very much in favour of public art projects. They add character to their location, encourage a sense of pride and belonging for local inhabitants and provide lively discussion points for visitors. The best examples also have that “Wow” factor that makes you just feel happier to be there to see them. The Angel of the North and the Bean are amongst my favourites, in that respect.

The rationale offered in Hiorns’ description may be fairly straightforward, but how convincingly will he be able to make the case for this sculpture, when compared to the rival entries? Does it say enough about Birmingham, specifically? Maybe if this was a well-known railway location like a Crewe or a Swindon, rather than a more general “powerhouse of manufacturing and invention,” as the Visit Birmingham website puts it, his position would be stronger.

My own priority would be to see the real locomotive given more of the limelight. If returning her to working order is not a viable proposition, then perhaps she could be displayed somewhere more prominent [and cheaper to enter] than at present. The only link it has with the city appears to be its name.   

I can hear the City of Birmingham’s likely rebuttal ringing in my ears already. “If it wasn’t for the City of Birmingham there would be no City of Birmingham.” They would have a point. Without Birmingham’s intervention, we would probably be one more Coronation Pacific down in total.

Also, Mr Hiorns would have had to look elsewhere for inspiration.

The Bo’ness and Kinneil Railway

It was just our luck that a visit on our way back from holiday in the far north west of Scotland to the Bo’ness and Kinneil Railway coincided with the temporary closure of part of the line. This was to enable BP to work on a pipeline beneath the track. We had a very nice time there anyway, though, partly due to the efforts of Class J94 No. 19, built by Hunslet at Leeds for the National Coal Board. She was operating on the section from the terminus at Bo’ness as far as the top of the bank at High Bridge.

We found a very friendly organisation, from station staff to locomotive crew and from museum reception to carriage restorers. We were met with a cheery welcome and people who had time for you, at every turn. That makes such a difference to the overall enjoyment of the day. Even the passers-by on the path next to the estuary and around Kinneil Halt were all waving frantically in our direction. Trains, like boats, do that to people. They bring out our best side. Waving at strangers you would be unlikely to greet otherwise is a very warming human response to travelling on forms of transport that are a little out of the ordinary. The train makes people seem happier, just by being there.

In two Norwegian coaches, sitting side by side at the end of the platform at Bo’ness station, there is a splendid O gauge model layout. Called Glenauchter, it is based on Gleneagles and run by the Gauge O Trust. It provides a rich sequence of authentic trains from different periods in the station’s existence.

The Scottish Railway Preservation Society Steam Group also have their headquarters at Bo’ness. No. 45170, a WD Stanier Class 8F 2-8-0 repatriated from Turkey, is the focus of their current appeal. A number of famous old locomotives are based here, including ex-LNER Class D49 4-4-0 No. 62712 Morayshire and ex-NBR [LNER Class J36] 0-6-0 No. 65243 Maude.

Wandering around in the carriage shops we found a very enthusiastic young volunteer, who was perhaps quite eager for a break from chipping away the innards of an elderly teak coach. He was primed, even though the carriage wasn’t, and he kindly gave us an impromptu guided tour of the collection, explaining where they were up to with each of their future exhibits. We came away the best part of an hour later a little more knowledgeable than previously, if a bit overwhelmed by the volume of information received. It’s a good job that there wasn’t a test at the end.

Mmmmmm, I really love those British Railways Mark One blood and custards.

Station to Station - Curzon Street and New Street, Birmingham

You can’t miss it if you are approaching Birmingham New Street on the line from Derby. As can be seen from the photograph, it currently sits in splendid isolation, a substantial, heavyweight chunk of stone. So square and simple, from a distance, it made me think of a child’s construct using giant building blocks.

Now a Grade One listed building, Curzon Street station opened in 1838. It was the terminus of the London Birmingham and Grand Junction railways, with trains to London, Manchester and Liverpool. By 1854, it had already been superseded by Birmingham New Street, which was nearer to the city centre and most services diverted there immediately.

I still find New Street a depressing station to enter by train, in spite of recent investment. Narrow platforms on a cramped site in a tunnel, with just narrow bands of daylight piercing the relative gloom at each end. The revitalised concourse above and the Grand Central complex truly take it to another level, however, as well as equipping it with a great name to link with the past. It offers such a contrast with the station’s subterranean depths. Airy, spacious and, it seemed that it was buzzing all day as a rendezvous hot-spot. It’s a show-piece of bright lights and activity with an interesting range of eateries and their attendant aromas - what a transformation since my last visit.

Curzon Street, on the other hand, shuffled along for decades, providing local services to Sutton Coalfield and some excursion trains up to 1893, and then survived as a goods station until 1966. There have been various plans for it since, but it is now to be incorporated into the redevelopment of the area as the terminus for HS2. This will give the planners a challenge to emulate New Street which I’m sure they will relish as the dramatic and extensive reconstruction of the central city area continues.  

The Speyside Railway

“Is it a steam engine, today, please?”

Ever since I started going to preserved railways in 1969, my concerns have always been that the locomotive that was to haul us was

[a] steam

[b] ex-BR

[C] in ex-BR livery.

The reason was that that is how we had always known them from our earliest days [c.1960] to the end of steam on BR in 1968. Basically, we just wanted to carry on as though nothing had happened.

“Well it was when it went out,” was the somewhat caustic, if accurate, reply I received at the ticket office at Aviemore. “Though we have been having a bit of trouble with it and it’s the only one that’s working,” was supplemented, objectively and rather dispassionately, as I searched intently for the hint of a smile that indicated that this was an example of dry Scottish humour.

We bought our tickets and stepped out onto the spacious island platform, buoyed by the extensive canopies and the plentiful examples of light blue, British Railways Scottish Region doorplates. In my imagination, Ivatt Class 2 2-6-0 No. 46512 has always been the Speyside Railways “go-to” engine and here she was in the flesh.

As suggested, engineering staff were noticeably fussing around her, but she managed the course splendidly in the end – and what a course? What could be better than Speyside in summer sunshine from a steam train? That feeling of having space to spare, whether admiring the vista across the wide valley itself, or the lay-out at Boat of Garten station, with its fabulous floral display - it struck me as being so typical of Highland Scotland at large. Compared to much of built-up  Britain further south, this is a country where you could never feel hemmed in.

By the end of our trip, I had completely forgiven the abrupt manner with which we had been received. There will be a training course available for that sort of PR thing, no doubt.

Oh, no! Where’s the Flying Scotsman?

It’s mid-October, so it must be……………nearly Christmas at the garden centre. But what’s this? No Flying Scotsman in the Christmas fairground display cabinet.

Smartly side-stepping Halloween and Bonfire Night, the garden centre is making straight for the festive season, but the centrepiece of the dazzling display of flashing lights and merry-go-rounds behind the plastic Christmas trees in Tinsel Town appears to have gone AWOL.

Well, the tender’s there, in LNER Apple Green livery and four teak coaches are in evidence, but FS herself is nowhere to be seen. This demands an explanation from the controller [whose body fat index is probably within the normal range].

Was this a case of shop-lifting early for Christmas? No. She was back in the works. Not again, surely? He was remaining tight-lipped about the exact nature of her ailments. Must be quite an embarrassment after all that cash had been spent on her.

He was able to divulge that she had done ten hour shifts every day for ten weeks on the Christmas specials roster for each of the last two years, but after her most recent lay-off in the sheds she had simply failed to steam.

“Time for a change, maybe,” he mused. “You’ve got to get the coaches and everything just right, though,” he added, “otherwise the aficionados will be moaning that we’ve got the wrong match of engine and train.”

Too, right, mate. I will be back to check.    

Thirsk Railwayana Auction, 15/10/16

I was there in good time, instead of the usual frantic ten minutes prior to kick off that I tend to leave myself to search for the few lots that I’ve previously highlighted from the catalogue. Some intensive scrutiny takes place at this stage. Some take photographs whilst others urgently discuss the finer points of selected exhibits. I’m always impressed by the expertise in evidence on these occasions, as friendships are renewed and intentions for the day are outlined.

Numbers were down due to a clash on the auction timetable with Crewe RA, apparently because of a misunderstanding over a changed date that hadn’t filtered through to some auction organisers in time for it to be avoided. Some of the usual dealers and stall holders had apparently also gone to Crewe. Audience attendance thinned further after lunch, as is often the case.

With the benefit of a near-deafening PA system, the auctioneer is affable, polite and humorous - “Yes, I’ve got you, sir, don’t panic” and, after a bit of card dithering in the stalls, “A fiver?…..I know, well it’s a lot of money, sir.” He is soon into his stride.

To suck in the punters, he starts high then swoops down, as though on a big dipper, “Fifty? Twenty? Five?” Once the bids get going, he escalates affairs just as quickly, “Five, eight, twelve? ......” Some items fail to sell at two quid and are attached to the next lot. A more expensive lot doesn’t sell because the reserve has not been reached, though I suspect that it might have fared better elsewhere. Nor is he phased by catalogue withdrawals, missing or incorrect images on his screen or by any late additions, “Write it on a bit of paper – just don’t lose the bit of paper!” he informs his assistant.

In this part of Yorkshire dominated by agriculture, Thirsk railwayana sales offer occasional variety from the usual fare, in contrast to the auction houses that make railwayana their sole purpose and therefore attract most of the more expensive items. GCRA have discovered, by way of their Bloxham set-up, that there is also a ready market for high volume, low value, fast track, live sales, like that at Thirsk.

Things could just possibly get under the radar here. The advance on-line and on-the-day printed catalogues offer very brief descriptions and few, if any, photos to look at. It requires a bit of guesswork. A cast iron sign for a “horse box” turned out to be for a “hose box,” which might have perplexed a commission bidder once acquired, and - literally reading between the lines - a mystifying “Lot 409 Maroon” meant a dark red version of the BR cap badge that had provided the previous item. The only way you can be sure, in some instances, is to be there to check things out yourself, which is maybe no bad thing. There were no telephone bids either, while I was there, to slow the process down.

One happy couple who were immediately behind me in the queue at the pay desk had strayed in by accident from an adjacent venue. They were visibly radiant at having rescued an otherwise unloved print that had just scraped into double figures, a surprising addition to their day which could provide a talking point when displayed on their wall, for years to come.

These assorted scraps of paper and metal are the discarded fragments of our railway past. One man’s rejected clutter is another man’s unearthed gem. As a gentleman said to me on our way out, “If you can’t find a bargain here you won’t get one anywhere.”

Nice round numbers

The first 50 published posts on mikepriestleysrailwayheritage.blogspot.com reached today, plus the first 100 followers on Twitter. Thank you for having a look. Celebrating all that's best about Britain's railway heritage.

Time’s finally up for the Wonky Signalbox

Well, will you look at it? Is there anything like it anywhere else in the country? This is Fiskerton level crossing gate keeper’s signalbox in Nottinghamshire on the old Midland Railway route from Nottingham to Lincoln, known nowadays as the Castle Line. The box was constructed in 1902. The crossing and the accompanying semaphore signals are still manually operated by the signalman, but only just. It won’t be there for much longer because progress will soon sweep it all away - unless it is swallowed up from below over the next week or two.

The lamp standard and the concrete, level crossing gate post add a vertical dimension to this skew-whiff centrepiece. It was a hot day when I took the photograph. The signalman was entertaining a Network Rail colleague and the signalbox door was wide open. I wondered if they might be suffering from a bit of sea sickness or vertigo in there. If too many people stand towards the rear, is the box in danger of capsizing? Could you perhaps fall backwards rather too easily when pulling the levers?

I had actually called by a few months ago and had a chat with the signalman about Network Rail’s up-grading plans. He had kindly invited me inside. He was only too well aware of the heritage which surrounded him and which was soon to be lost. There were photographs of steam specials passing the location that had been taken and then donated by other enthusiasts and pinned up on the wall. He was proud to show me round. I vowed to return with my camera to record the workings of the inside of the box and he welcomed the idea.

Unfortunately, on the next two occasions I went down there, different employees were on duty and no such invitation was forthcoming. In fact, the largely mono-syllabic responses I received to my friendly opening lines put me off even asking. Whilst trying to avoid becoming known as the local signalman stalker, I did eventually find a friendly face and duly took some photos. The old mechanical systems on this line are now in the process of being replaced with automatic barriers and colour light signals. The traditional way of working is coming to an end here, as it is across the country.

Network Rail now have possession of the crossing, the road is closed and the gated crossing procedures are already a thing of the past. The signalman previously had to brave the elements twice on each occasion that a train was due to pass through. The main gates were drawn across the road by hand and the smaller gates for pedestrians leading to the walkway over the crossing were also locked. Another pedestrian gate, a more recent addition, gave direct access to the up platform from the walkway. The signalman then returned to his cabin, signals were cleared and after the train had passed, all the procedures were reversed. Safety notices in the car park, which is on the down, Newark and Lincoln-bound side of the line, reminded intending passengers to leave sufficient time before their train was due to depart, because once the gates were closed for an approaching train they would not be able to access the up platform.

Pictures on the internet show Fiskerton box in its pre-wonky period and indicating no signs of any inclination to sink into the ground. Quite when and why it decided on a less than vertical disposition is not clear. Network Rail, or their predecessors, Railtrack and before them British Rail, must have taken action at some stage to keep it the right way up. Two steel girders were driven through its sides beneath floor level and placed on the sections of old wooden sleepers that were piled up beneath the protruding ends. Clearly, it was a victory for the functional over the aesthetic. The resulting state of affairs might not have been quite the solution they were looking for, however, as the degree of tilting has certainly not been rectified.

Anyway, with literally only days remaining to struggle through, I’ve got my fingers crossed that it can hold it all together for a little longer. After 114 years of faithful service, Fiskerton signalbox deserves the right to bow out gracefully – even if that may turn out to be only relatively speaking.  

All change at Fiskerton Crossing, 13/10/16.

Sneering Elites – do they mean me?

How potent words can be. Sneering is not a nice thing to be called. It oozes disregard and supposed superiority. I’m increasingly hearing this phrase directed at liberal minded folk, for being, well, liberal minded. Currently, it’s a dig at Remainers, for whom EU membership was an overall plus and for whom immigration is a net benefit which certainly should not have been used as a referendum-deciding issue in the unsavoury way that it was.

However, I find the implied concern for the disadvantaged hypocritical, to say the least. For 6 years prior to the vote, the poor have been on the receiving end of cuts in welfare and services brought in by many of the same people who now claim to champion their cause. Questioning of my values and attitudes by those who themselves have failed to give due consideration to the increased prominence of a disenfranchised underclass just doesn’t wash.

If by elite they mean having benefited from an education, being lucky enough to have enough money to live on and feeling generally contented for most of the time, when many others haven’t, aren’t and don’t, then I’m glad to be part of it, but I know I’m fortunate.

Instead of lambasting well-meaning folk, let’s accentuate the positive by using words which aren’t intended to insult. Our railway heritage is just one area of experience where service and achievement is recognised and valued with dignity and without resort to inflammatory language – I hope.       

Sir Nigel awaits her next turn at Grosmont, NYMR, August 2015.

Pacific Power on the SVR

The Severn Valley Railway does it for me every time. Gala day on the SVR is special again, and the recent Pacific Power event even topped that. How lucky were we to have Tornado, Flying Scotsman, plus leading players from the home team squad - including the two rebuilt Bulleid Light Pacifics - all making an appearance?

It was magic and so a big thank you to the SVR, who were clearly a little worried before the event about whether they could safely handle the crowds that they thought were likely to attend. It seemed that a combination of fewer total visitors than expected, careful advance planning and some sound logistical arrangements meant it all worked out well in the end.

Added to that, in Kidderminster Museum’s upstairs exhibition hall, was the Guild of Railway Artists’ excellent 2016 RailArt display. The quality of railway art is as healthy as it has ever been, and it’s encouraging to see some less familiar names being added to the mix. The organisers were a bit more adventurous in casting a wider net in terms of artistic style this time, as well.

Some very pleasant September weather combined with somewhat easier access for non-travellers at both Bridgnorth and Bewdley stations than we had been warned of in advance [on the Thursday and Friday, at least], meant everyone was happy. The stage was set and the cast did not disappoint.

The Shropshire Star [27/9/16] reported that 15,000 tickets had been sold for the 6 days long event, which included the SVR Charitable Trust’s own Charity Day on 21/9/16 to start proceedings. The SVR estimated that a further 30,000 people had visited the line over the course of the gala to watch the show, including us. No sneering, please. We have been many times before and usually paid to travel and we will no doubt do so again before long. Plus, extra income was raised through the issue of platforms tickets at Bridgnorth and the voluntary contributions collected for access to Bewdley station. The local economy must have benefited enormously from this extra influx of sight-seers.

When the late afternoon sun sinks closer to the rooftops over the town, it bathes Bewdley station platforms in a warm autumnal glow. I can’t think of a more attractive preservation hotspot than this to witness such a variety of steam in action [Grosmont station, Swithland Sidings? Where would you plump for?]. I told my friends that I could have stood gawping at the fence in the goods yard at Bewdley for the rest of that Thursday evening. In fact, I might have still been there now, all glazed over in contemplation and contentment in my own personal comfort zone, but it was actually time for a pint and something to eat. We were back the next day, though.

The Girl on the British Train

Now that we have all had a chance to calm down again after the Ryder Cup, we can reflect on another potential wobble for the special relationship - that entente cordiale that we are happy to claim as a warm entanglement with America [and which probably goes over America’s head most of the time].

The Girl on the Train is an extraordinarily successful novel by Paula Hawkins, which has more recently been made into a film by Tate Taylor. Paula was born and brought up in Zimbabwe. She moved to London in 1989 and has stayed there ever since. She wrote her book about a British girl commuting into London Euston. Tate is American and, with the author’s blessing, he made his film of the book in an American setting, in which the trains run instead into New York. He employed a British actress, Emily Blunt, to take the leading role.

Paula’s decision to give carte blanche to the film makers apparently caused mild strops of indignation in some quarters on this side of the Atlantic over the contrasts between a commuter journey into London and one into New York. It was along the lines that the juxtaposition of the railway and the suburban landscape is different in some respects. I can’t see how this would seriously affect one’s enjoyment of the film, even if one had previously read the book.

My wife read the book and then passed it on to her friends with glowing recommendations. She by-passed me for consideration as we rarely share our books of choice. My ears pricked up only because it had the word “train” in the title. If it had been The Girl on the Bus, it would no doubt have passed me by completely.

Paula can surely do what she wants with her own book. Britain and America are very different in many respects, some aspects of the built environment included. However, The Girl on the Train is just a story and it could probably be adapted quite adequately to any metropolitan commuter system in the world. The decision to transfer it to the United States was no doubt commercial, pure and simple. There are so many important issues we could and should be getting worked up about on both sides of the ocean but this is not one of them.

However, I did notice that in the frontispiece, Paula described the permanent way as “train tracks” rather than “railway tracks,” which suggests to me that she might have had a leaning towards the United States before she even wrote page one. On the other hand, maybe I’m just an old pedant.

Our Day Out

You can’t beat a lads’ day out for a spot of bonhomie and banter. Our most recent away day was at the Llangollen Railway’s Autumn Steam Gala. It precipitated persistently for most of the day, but it takes more than a spot of rain to dampen the spirits when we all get together.

If there was ever a case for an over-all cab roof this was it, but the Gala’s visiting engine was the former Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Aspinall Class 27 0-6-0 No. 1300 from the East Lancashire Railway, and she is not so blessed in that department. She was in her later LMS guise, as Class 3F No. 12322. Built in Horwich, in 1896, and withdrawn from service in 1960, she is the only surviving example from a class that once numbered 484 engines, of which I managed to see just 6. They were the L&YR’s standard goods locomotives.

We soon discovered that the planned guided tours of the workshops were all booked up for the day. Brief but intense negotiations followed, resulting in an extra tour being laid on just for us, in the company of Llangollen Railway Trust Vice President, Gordon Heddon. Gordon’s background knowledge was illuminating and the time just flew by.

We were introduced to Matt Jervis, apprentice with the Boiler and Engineering Training Trust. He climbed into one that he had been working on recently and got steamed up with as much infectious enthusiasm as you could possibly imagine from someone who might otherwise have been enjoying a quiet day off. Pamphlets and information boards can’t compete with first-hand descriptions straight from the horse’s mouth, and we were all riveted [figuratively, that is].

The stand-out attraction at Llangollen these days – apart from the wonderfully scenic Dee valley route and the ongoing drama of the push to Corwen – is the preponderance of new build initiatives that have found a home here. They must be doing a lot of things right for that to happen. Some projects are more advanced than others; LMS Patriot Class 4-6-0 No 45551 The Unknown Warrior and GWR Grange Class 4-6-0 No 6880 Betton Grange are well on the way. Alongside them are the relatively embryonic GWR “Night Owl” Heavy Freight Class 4700 2-8-0 No. 4709 and LNER Class B17 4-6-0 No. 61673 Spirit of Sandringham.

Gordon Heddon leads the way and Matt Jervis waits in the wings to enlighten us further, on our exclusive tour of the Llangollen workshops. [Photo with thanks to Dave Beck]

The success of the venture brings much-needed employment and welcome apprenticeship opportunities to this part of rural Wales. It also attracts essential young blood to the heritage movement -  a priceless investment in the future.

We took the next train as far as Carrog. It was hauled by resident GWR Manor Class 4-6-0 No. 7822 Foxcote Manor. Some of us could remember seeing her at the end of her time on BR; withdrawn from service, cold and neglected at Shrewsbury shed, on the 28th December 1965. This had obviously been our Twixmas treat 51 years ago.  

Withdrawn Mogul, Manors and Standard stand forlorn on Shrewsbury sheds, 28/12/1965.

The cosy cafe at Berwyn station beckoned and we ended the day doing what we do best these days - sitting around having a laugh over a nice cup of tea and a scone, whilst churning out the memories from the 55 years of friendship that have elapsed since we first all got together.

Our day out on the trains is coming to an end, and the rain has finally relented at Berwyn station. [Photo with thanks to Dave Beck]

[With our thanks to Gordon Heddon, Matt Jervis and Nicky Jenkinson, Administrator at the Llangollen Railway. The general public do not normally have access to the Boiler Shop at the Llangollen Railway and this was a special arrangement for Gala Day only. Llangollen shed tours must be made through the Llangollen Railway Office and will not normally include the Boiler Shop due to the nature of the work carried out in that area. I am very grateful to all those at the Llangollen Railway who helped to make our day out such a pleasant and rewarding experience.]

Railway Nation: A Journey in Verse

It’s been quite a year for railways on TV. We have had the well-chronicled Return of the Flying Scotsman [BBC4, 6/316], the staccato, uncomfortable [and, for some, downright indigestible], Train Spotters Live [3 parts, BBC4, July 2016] and the admirable series about what the Victorians ever did for us as far as trains were concerned [Full Steam Ahead: How the Railways Built Modern Britain, [6 episodes, BBC2, July 2016].

My stand out moment from that series was when Dr Ruth Goodman wanted to stress the impact of steam railways on our way of life, comparing it’s influence by way of an indignant put-down for the computer, “The internet…. Pah!”

Incidentally, in case you were wondering who fixed the map of the old Great Central Railway to a table in the waiting room at Loughborough Central station with Bluetack, enabling Dr Alex Langlands to discuss Sir Edward Watkin’s grand design for an international railway via a channel tunnel, an idea that was realised a century after his time - it was me.

The latest contribution to the BBC’s current infatuation with the railways, Railway Nation: A Journey in Verse, [BBC2, 1/10/2016, available on iPlayer for the rest of October] invited 6 poets to follow in the tracks of WH Auden’s The Night Mail between Euston and Glasgow, 80 years after the film first appeared.

Each poet took a section of the journey to observe their fellow passengers and come up with their own interpretation in verse. It worked really well. It was sensitive, perceptive and amusing. It managed to capture some reflective, wistful and sometimes very moving moments in the travellers’ lives, during what, on the face of it, what would otherwise have been a fairly mundane transit from A to B, and soon forgotten.

It was absorbing television. It succeeded in recording very personal sentiments from its contributors, without fuss and any apparent interrogation. It was a carefully crafted piece of work. It must have necessarily required considerable logistical preparation to package the whole event into a single trip, and it benefited from some very thoughtful editing.

Oh, yes, and the poems were OK, too, but then it was a big ask to match up to the original.

Flying Scotsman, Bewdley, Severn Valley Railway, 22/9/16.