Christmas, Fifty Years Ago

In December 1966, we had what seemed at the time to be a good idea. We would go to London for Christmas. We would enjoy the bright lights of the city, go around some sheds, which we thought should be quite full, as it was always a quiet time on the tracks, and we might also fit in some football to watch, as well. It was the first time any of us had chosen to be apart from our families at Christmas time, so there was probably a bit of an independence marker being laid down there, as well.

We left Lime Street station on Christmas Eve and I recorded a succession of “blue electrics,” as we called them, as they were the only blue things around prior to British Rail’s blue period, which happened much later on. The only other locomotives noted on the journey were examples of the English Electric Type 1 Bo-Bo D8xxx series and a couple of diesel shunters.

Steam was already becoming very concentrated in the north west of England, which suited us fine, but I was also aware that time was running out for us to witness any Southern steam, and to see and photograph some Bulleid Pacifics before they disappeared was also very much on our “to do” list.

Though we were all train spotters, some of us were keener than others and I was definitely the most hooked of the four. We also all loved both playing and watching football, and though we were all Evertonians, we would happily watch any league match we could and unfortunately EFC were not around in the capital over Christmas 1966.

So, it was, that on our arrival at Euston we found our way to Stamford Bridge where Chelsea were entertaining Liverpool that afternoon. Without the need for tickets to be secured in advance, for joining a membership club or having an e-ticket password etc, we simply rolled up at the turnstile and went in at the Liverpool supporters’ end. BBC Match of the Day’s recorded highlights are available today on You Tube, in black and white, of course, and with a commentary provided by the legendary Kenneth Wolstenholme. Liverpool won 2-1, courtesy of an own goal by Hinton and a winner from Geoff Strong, Boyle scoring for the Blues. Liverpool repeated the feat in the return fixture just two days later and by the same score.

My friend, Ian, had bought a Liverpool scarf on the way in, the idea being that we would blend in better with the Liverpudlians in the crowd, but it nearly back-fired on the way out as we were briefly targeted by a group of Chelsea supporters. We made our getaway, still intact.

Off we went in search of swinging London town. It was closed. It must have been just New York that was the city that never slept. It was dead. All the restaurants that were anything like within our price range were shut. We scurried off to Earl’s Court youth hostel to heat up a can or two of beans on toast.

If anything, Christmas Day was worse. London was like a ghost town. We had the streets to ourselves. A police car drew up to us in Southwark and the officer asked us what we were doing there. We just mumbled, in a fog of bewilderment and ignorance, that we had expected some entertainment, but seemed to have got it seriously wrong. I think they probably just accepted our story and drove off laughing.

It gradually dawned that we might be struggling to obtain anything resembling a Christmas dinner on Christmas Day and that was probably the moment we decided that we had made a bit of a cock-up. Out of the blue, Graham rang his uncle and auntie and they invited us over to share their family Christmas dinner, somewhere near Cricklewood. We jumped at the opportunity and eventually found ourselves rather sheepishly pulling up extra chairs at the corners of their modest dining room table. It was a spontaneous and unhesitating act of kindness on their part, in the true spirit of Christmas, and I remain grateful to them to this day. At the time, I think we just felt slightly embarrassed.

Here we are in reflective mood, at Acton Town tube station, on our way to Christmas dinner with complete strangers [for 3 of us] on Christmas Day 1966. My attention is now drawn to the poster. What was the role of a “station woman” and why does her uniform remind me more of the Salvation Army?

Things perked up on Boxing Day. First stop was Nine Elms sheds. Here we found 6 Merchant Navies and 12 light Pacifics in various states of disrepair, alongside some Standard “7s” and a handful of Standard 2-6-4 tanks. Most engines were not in steam, some were minus their name plates and almost all were unkempt and apparently unloved. The patches of rust stood out in the low, bright sunshine on a cold, crisp winter’s day.

Battle of Britain Class, No. 34089 602 Squadron was being readied for action next to the water column at 70A, which was being warmed by a brazier that we parked ourselves by for a few minutes, returning some warmth to our note-taking fingers and pleased to see a main line steam engine actually looking purposeful and ready to go.

After an imaginary lunch, somewhere in Wandsworth, a line was drawn in the sand. I decided on Stratford and Old Oak Common, but was unable to persuade the others to join me “just for diesels.” Instead, they made their way to Highbury to watch Arsenal [Radford 2, Armstrong 2] beat Southampton by 4 goals to 1 [Ron Davies]. Terry Paine played for Southampton, one of those footballers who seemingly just went on for ever.

I noted 111 diesels on Stratford, including the first English Electric Type 3, No. D6700, which was in pristine condition. I photographed it in fading light and too much shadow.

There were another 72 diesels on 81A, including 8 Western diesels and 7 Hymek Type 3s, but I have to admit that I felt a bit lonely. The other lads only went train spotting again when it had been emphatically stated from the outset that we were going for steam, which we did, regularly, up to its demise a year and a half later, in August 1968.

[This article appears also in the current edition of the Railway Antiques Gazette. I am grateful to the editor, Tim Petchey]