Eastern Promise

I know this is an age thing. It boils down to the fact that my first serious train spotting started in 1960, the year I began at grammar school. That meant that my first combined volume was from that year. At that point, I started to acquaint myself with namers. Namers was what it was all about. I can not over-emphasise enough how important it was for me in those early years that a locomotive sported a nameplate. Without one, it was an emphatically lesser being. Presumably the railway companies thought exactly like I did, because they must have spent a fortune doing just that – naming their more prestigious passenger train locomotives.

I learnt so many matching pairs of numbers and names. We were encouraged at school to remember all sorts of lists of facts for tests out of twenty and regarded it as an enormous chore, whereas learning names of engines was neither problematic nor even intentional. It just happened because I was so interested. I can still remember lots of them today, so much so, that when someone came along to my local railway club wielding a quiz along those lines, I won it with only two omissions out of 40 questions, having done no intentional swotting at all on the subject for about 50 years. I did not confer, either, like some others. I did it all by myself. I was dead chuffed. I had only just joined the club and I didn’t really know anyone, so that went down really well amongst the regulars, I imagine.

The two I got wrong were 62467 Glenfinnan and 62430 Jingling Geordie. I know Glenfinnan as well as anything. I’ve been on the Jacobite twice and admired the viaduct from below as well. It was just a mental block with that particular word. I get that sometimes and perhaps increasingly so. Then I am like a dog with a bone. I will not let the word get away. I will go through the alphabet until it jumps back out from my subconscious. By this time, of course, the conversation has moved on to something completely different. When the penny finally drops, I will suddenly shout out “Wigeon” or “Francis Jeffers, the fox in the box, the new Michael Owen” at which point everyone stops talking and just stares at me.

Anyway, I just knew that anything that was going to trip me up on the subject of locomotive names would be what we knew as an “Eastern.” After all, everything could be described as either a Southern, a Western, a London Midland, a Standard or an Eastern. That is because we were all learning the ropes together, in 1960, when we were eleven and when our interest really kicked in. It was all time related. We were not at all bothered about pre-grouping stuff or the Big Four. What had happened before 1948 was neither here nor there to us. We only needed to know if it was 4 figures - WR, began with a 3 - SR, began with a 4 - LM, began with a 6 – ER or began with 7, 8 or 9 - Standard. We knew that any 5 figure numbers beginning with a 5 were old but we couldn’t care less about them, because, as you will probably know, they were not namers.

The names themselves seemed to suit my preconceptions of the geographical layout of the country as an eleven-year old. Points west were pretty hills and valleys, quaint market towns, manors, halls, granges and castles. See how easily it all fitted together? The LM connected most of the big cities with the capital and its engines were stately, official sounding, very grand and establishment, patriotic, old colonial, royalty and regiments.

The SR was Battle of Britain territory, I knew that. The West Country, or rather the far south west, spoke for itself and, reluctantly, as Liverpool had lost ground to Southampton, I probably begrudgingly admitted that in addition to London and the ports of the south east, that wasn’t a bad home for the merchant shipping names, either.

I had already made my mind up that the east of the country was low and flat and its main line straight and fast, uncluttered by as many cities and towns and therefore the perfect place for thoroughbreds and consequently for some of the most enticing names of all, Sun Stream, Steady Aim, Pearl Diver, Flying Fox and Quicksilver. I stared at my combined volume and wondered from my outpost on the Wirral coast when the hell I was ever going to see some of those.  

Amongst the very silly things I have done in my life, I have not kept all my railway books, including many regional Ian Allan pocket books and even combined volumes that I had bought both before and after the Summer 1962 version. That one remains my prized possession and the book I would take with me to my desert island, when I am asked to take part in the programme, or even if I’m not.

The spine is loose and there is some foxing which is most marked on the Stanier 2-8-0 page. I have added little pieces of paper for all four pre-1948 companies, to record steam locomotives scrapped before the Summer 1962 edition was published. It has got the Blue Pullman on the front, which was very go-ahead, no doubt, but would certainly not have been my choice.

The Western had the Star Class, which I would not have known anything much about had I not seen the museum piece, Lode Star. The Southern, which as far as my own record book was concerned had gone the best part of two years from new until April 1964 without troubling the red underlining pen, still had at least some of its Schools, King Arthurs and Lord Nelsons. I had no idea at all about any earlier SR namers. As far as I was concerned, the LM still had just about all its namers apart from a few early Patriot casualties. Some of the Standards were younger than I was and I felt I knew them all very well. Everything was in its place, pretty much, and I found that all very reassuring.

Easterns were the difficulty. I was conscious of the previous existence of many former LNER namers, which had been scrapped prior to 1962 and which, of course, I never had the chance to go and see. Of those, the Footballers were the best known, because they were, well, footballers. We liked, watched and played football. We supported Everton and I knew very well that there had been a locomotive of that name.

The named Eastern locomotives, past or surviving, that were not B1s, V2s or Pacifics were on the very edge of our consciousness. Hunt Class, Shires, Sandringhams [the County ones that weren’t the Footballers], J36s, D29, D30 and Directors were all beyond our reach and beyond our view of the world. I never once got to Scotland in the days of steam. I had a deprived childhood in that respect. Wandering Willie, Kettledrummle, Dumbiedykes and Cuddie Headrigg meant absolutely nothing to me. Even the K4s had gone before my combined was printed, though I think I had heard of the Great Marquess because it had been preserved.

The largely Scottish contingent of the numbers beginning in 6 was a land of mystery for me. It was a never-never land of intrigue - heather, mountains, bag-pipes, the timeless 1950’s and painted-on nameplates. I thought that looked cheap at the time - unforgivable corner-cutting. It was literally out of sight and out of bounds. It was an imaginary world.

Instead, I revelled in the ones that were closer to home and wondered how a woman could have a name like Princess Arthur of Connaught. Chester provided the straight GWR nameplates that stretched along the frames of the County of Radnor and the dramatic curved plates that wrapped their way around the splasher above the driving wheel of Penrice Castle. I actually thought that the King Class, although naturally impressive loco’s, had a boring set of names, with so much similarity of lettering, especially as I didn’t have a clue as to which was which, or rather, who was who, apart from Henry VIII and everyone knew what he got up to.

When I finally got down south I was impressed with the design of the SR Pacific nameplates, all round, with lots of colour and flourishes, like the scrolls on the West Countries and the elaborate and unusual presentation of the Merchant Navies. I wondered why on earth would you name every Brit’ except one and why the Duke of Gloucester was always moping around in Crewe every single time we went there, as though it was a bit of a mummy’s boy of an engine that did not dare stray too far from home. “Get up to Glasgow with the Semis, you big softy. What do you mean you can’t climb Shap like the others? You are not trying hard enough.” I think it probably went wrong a lot.

Every now and then a Clan would honour us with its presence in Preston or even make it to Liverpool Exchange. I liked the idea that they were rarer, but still possible to see, but in the end, they all congregated in Carlisle anyway.  Perhaps they thought there was safety in numbers when the scrap yard beckoned, but that plan didn’t work out right and they all went the way of the torch. The SR Standard Class 5s had feeble nameplates, I thought. It was like a bargain basement gesture of a nameplate, really, though the names themselves from Arthurian legend [I assumed] were fine.

My own favourites would have to include that belonging to V2 Class No. 60809 The Snapper, The East Yorkshire Regiment, The Duke of York’s Own, which I did get to see, eventually. Unfortunately, I was only too conscious that Royal Scot Class No. 46121 Highland Light Infantry, City of Glasgow Regiment was one of the four Scots I never got around to copping. Neither did I ever catch up with Jubilee No.45665 Lord Rutherford of Nelson, which had a nice ring to it. A nameplate on the wall would be a nice reminder. Now, what shall I choose?

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