One Clavdivs

In my more anarchic moments I have been known to dip into Viz magazine and last Christmas a copy was a surprise present from my daughter’s partner, who obviously recognises a former Beano reader when he meets one. In truth, I did not get a great deal out of the irreverent and very un-PC comic strips, but some of the contrived contributions to the so-called letters page left me in stitches, as they have done many times before.

One such that set me off on this occasion included a reference to “One Clavdivs,” using a joke that had already been made, I believe, by Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse about the historical drama, almost of the same name, which was based on goings-on in the Roman Empire. It starred Derek Jacobi and was seen as rather “risky” TV in the days before the internet opened various flood gates. Poor old Mary Whitehouse. Thank heavens she was alive in a different age. She would just not have known which way to turn today.

Paul Whitehouse, on the other hand, had himself given me a fit of uncontrollable mirth on another occasion that springs to mind. It was one of those moments, sadly rather rare these days, which I experienced frequently in my youth, when I am laughing so much that I am literally doubled up and wondering at the same time, how I’m going to be able to take my next breath.

In December 2013, an unannounced translator had turned up at Nelson Mandela’s funeral, supposedly there for the benefit of deaf viewers, but, in reality, someone who had certainly not been expected by the authorities and who did not have the slightest clue when it came to the delivery of sign language. It was a clear breech of security and a moment of public embarrassment for the South African authorities and it was broadcast worldwide, just at a time when so much of the world’s population was united in grief.  

The funny bit came soon afterwards at a celebrity awards ceremony and was then made available as a few moments footage on You Tube, though, luckily, I happened to catch it on TV at the time. Paul Whitehouse arrived on stage to receive his accolade accompanied by a person unknown, who proceeded to make gestures to the audience which were obviously unintelligible to all, even more so, no doubt, to the hard of hearing. It was as topical as it was pricelessly amusing. I would probably have to go right back to the first time I saw Alas Smith and Jones’s introduction to Jazz Club for a side-splitting tele-visual moment to rival it, at least until someone reminds me of something else.

What has all this got to do with trains, never mind railwayana? I hear you ask. I’m getting there. The writer and creator of the Viz magazine is Chris Donald. He wrote an autobiography, entitled “Rude Kids, The Unfeasible Story of Viz.” I can recommend it, but although humorous in parts, it does not make for comfortable reading throughout, as Chris recalls some of the problems that a rise to prominence brought in their wake. This culminated in a rather sober self-assessment when he realised that the enjoyment had all been to do with the drive to make a success of his magazine, and that once that dream had been achieved the fun was largely over. It appears it was the thrill of the chase that had kept him going. Eventually, Chris ended up working for Barter Books, a second-hand book shop - and so much more - in Alnwick, Northumberland.

Barter Books occupies the old station building at Alnwick, designed by William Bell. The North Eastern Railway opened the station in 1887, replacing an earlier one dating from 1850, which was further away from the town centre. It was the terminus for the branch line from Alnmouth and also for another branch from Alnwick to Cornhill, where it joined the Tweedmouth to Kelso line, and which was opened at the same time.

By the end of the nineteenth century, Alnwick station was being used by sixty trains a day. Those, like me, still clinging doggedly to memories of 1960’s steam, will recall that the line became strongly associated with the Peppercorn K1 Class 2-6-0s, of which 62005 is a notable and well regarded surviving example.

The Alnwick to Cornhill branch lost its passenger services in 1930 and goods traffic ceased in 1953, though the Coldstream to Wooler section survived until 1965. British Railways closed the line to Alnmouth and Alnwick station, in 1968. The substantial, stone-built, twin train sheds both still survive and are home to a number of enterprises today, of which Barter Books is surely the most widely known? 

This is no ordinary second-hand bookshop. We were met during our October visit by a roaring open fire, plenty of animated and helpful staff, comfortable seating, a well-stocked children’s room, an inviting café, oceans of shelf space for browsing purposes, tasteful and decorative artwork on the walls, an overhead model railway and some amazing, commissioned murals that take your eye from above.

You can walk along one of the former station platforms to peruse the aisles of bookcases. They also hold book group meetings and entertain visiting speakers. It would be possible to spend the whole day there quite easily - and especially if it is raining - which, as we found out, is quite possible in Northumberland in October. Luckily, there is also a good selection of railway books. I bought Bartle Rippon’s, “The Alnwick Branch,” which seemed like the obvious thing to do. 

All of this is within the substantial original framework of Victorian stone, wrought iron, timber and glass, which the owners have continued not just to protect, but to enhance, by their sympathetic restoration, for example, of the fireplaces and the canopy.

The Aln Valley Railway is aiming to bring trains back to Alnwick by 2020, although this time to a new station at Lionheart, further out from the centre of town, as subsequent road and other developments appear to have thwarted plans to include the original building in the reconstruction of the line.

When in any bookshop, I make a beeline for railways and then the humour section, much preferring to be entertained in that way than by the classics, detective stories or any other genre, really. Not that I have found that railways, or even the railwayana scene, are exactly humour-free zones, either. At auction, it is usually the chair that we depend on for a bit of light relief from the serious business of all that cash changing hands.

I have to admit that I can find the pleas of an exasperated auctioneer trying to move on a substantial piece of metal with somewhat jagged edges rather amusing. “Deltic flame cut………Nobody wants it for 350 quid?..............My God.” In a different place, there was an introduction to the Lawrence Hill totem, “If your name was Lawrence Hill, you’d have that.” Wry smiles and half-hearted apologies often accompany the various attempts at the pronunciation of the latest Welsh key tokens, and there must surely be a limit to how many presents of china or silver plate that the wife’s sister can make use of?

I had a soft spot for Malton’s regularly aired suspicion that certain items had been found on “Eeeee-Bay,” whilst in another part of the country, the chair asked a buyer sitting near the front and struggling to protect his recent acquisition with bubble wrap, “Are you wrapping your Christmas presents?” All the auctioneers have their own endearing characteristics and catch phrases, of course. Perhaps some styles are more easily identifiable than others, and so I think that many regular attenders over the years might recognise this “bigging up” of a piece of original artwork, “That’s nice. Look at that. That’s nice. That’s almost 3D. £500 to start……£450, then. Not a penny less. It’s got to be worth every penny of that.” It makes me smile. It is all part of the theatre of the event.

We all laugh at different things. Some people were no doubt left in stitches by Terry and June and see Mrs Brown’s Boys as the highlight of their watching week. It is laughing itself that is important. It is sociable and apparently good for your health as well, releasing endorphins in the brain and encouraging that “feel-good” factor. So, thank you, Chris Donald, a man with a serious side who likes books, trains and off-beat humour. I can identify with all of that.

[This article also appears in the current edition of the Railway Antiques Gazette. Thanks are due to the editor, Tim Petchey]