New Boy

I’m well aware that I’m still a new boy when it comes to the railwayana scene. After all, I’ve only been doing it for about twelve years. It’s like moving to a new village and not really feeling accepted until all your kids have been through the local school system from start to finish, you are able to reminisce with the neighbours about the Millennium celebrations and you have been there whilst at least another five estates have been added to the built-up “envelope” - as they used to insist on calling it in the days when protecting the green belt was a practical guide rather than a conveniently discarded notion.

I can now wistfully remind my children about the good old days when I could find a parking spec on Main Street. However, the changes have all served to add a lot of new folk who I can now also describe as newcomers, and who will no doubt feel like they are doing their community apprenticeship for the next however many years that it takes.

Though I might now just about be accepted in the village having been here for over 30 years, in railwayana auction terms I’m still wet behind the ears. I’ve been around long enough to remember Myers Grove and two different venues at Malton, so I am now eligible for “those were the days” conversations as far as they are concerned. I sometimes attend auctions with a close friend but mostly I’m there on my tod. I’ve always been struck by how many other people clearly know each other very well and greet each other as old friends. I imagine that they have been going to these events for as long as there have been such events to go to. I’m also conscious that the auctions themselves first sprouted up to satisfy the demand from enthusiasts and that those who were drawn in to run them also came very much from that same interest group, rather than from the established and more general auctioneering set-ups. Although it’s a business, it’s all very matey.

It is this fact that gives the events their own special flavour, of course. It’s all rather in-bred but that is a strength, I hasten to add, contributing as it does to the incredible body of knowledge about the artefacts that represent this special section of the nation’s industrial heritage. There is such an extraordinary amount of detailed factual information being exchanged.

I’ve spoken to folk who originally bought stuff from Collector’s Corner or direct from British Railways and who paid next to nothing for it by modern standards and which may well have included some substantial and significant pieces. If you had done so, of course, it stands to reason that as time has gone on and prices have rocketed, it leaves you in a very good place if you want to refine your own collection or even change direction within the hobby. Those assets give you considerable bargaining power, though my guess would be that they are more likely to be just the sort of items that most people would want to hang on to indefinitely.

I never went to Collector’s Corner, though I knew of its existence. I had even heard that you could buy stuff directly from the railway, but [a] I had no money and [b] it never passed my consciousness that such paraphernalia would eventually interest me so much as it does now. Tastes change through time and it feels like the ability to appreciate things that I had previously ignored or taken for granted also developed more as I get older. 

I thought it was high time I should get about a bit more in some new and different directions to visit one or two railwayana auction locations that I had not reached previously. Consequently, I went to Poynton, Solent and Thirsk for the first time within a matter of weeks of each other, a year or two ago, now.  

We were met on arrival at Poynton by the aroma from the bacon butty van, plonked right outside the entrance, so close, in fact, that I almost felt obliged to buy one as an unofficial entry ticket, rather than be the only one inside without one.

There and back to Solent in a day required a bit of an early start. That last section through rural Hampshire after leaving the motorway reminded me of how attractive a county it is. The centre of Wickham looked preposterously English and affluent. The venue itself was spacious and bright, and the claims made for it as a friendly place were borne out. Its location meant that family groups and others using the adjacent leisure and other community facilities visited the auction space as well, many of them having a bit of a nose around while enjoying a well-earned snack. However, much of the pleasant feel to the place had to do with the auctioneer’s amiable and relaxed style in the chair. Nigel Maddock is, I’m sure, sorely missed by many. He had an easy manner and I found him to be the most approachable of all the railwayana auction organisers.

Next time out, it was in exactly the opposite direction, up the Great North Road to North Yorkshire for Thirsk Farmer’s Market. It was very easy to get to if you didn’t make the mistake of coming off at the first sign-posted mention of Thirsk on the dual-carriageway and end up going right around the town twice. Maybe I just imagined that whiff of teat cream and slightly soiled straw on my eventual arrival, but it was certainly a big contrast with Poynton and Wickham. The auctioneer there was not hanging about, and the bluff, business-like Yorkshire tones certainly brought back memories of Malton, as well as of Harry Enfield’s archetypal Yorkshireman, “I say what I like and I like what I bloody well say.”

I’ve also done a couple of Quorn swap meets more recently. Though I had been there as a potential customer before and combined it with a journey behind steam, now I was there as a trader. The entrance fee for a pitch has got to be the most reasonable one around but I found out on the first occasion that I turned up as a potential vendor that if you arrive late you can easily get shunted off into a siding [literally, as it happens], so it is definitely worth an early start. The most interesting aspect of both days was the conversations I held with enthusiasts who each brought their unique perspective to the event - some specialist knowledge or a chance observation that made me reflect on how rich and varied the railway arena is.

I also had it confirmed to me that wet weather and paperwork don’t mix. Had the forecast been for rain I would have given it a miss but the promise was for a dry day. However, the clouds were soon mounting, pushed on by a stiff breeze and then it started spitting, so I had to spring into life and stuff everything back in through the hatch at the back of the car. The rain stopped as quickly as it had begun and so it all got hauled out again. No matter; there’s nothing like a bit of typical British weather to keep you on your toes.

It is Talisman at Templecombe today. Much as I’d like another nostalgic return there, I’ve copped out of the four hour drive each way on this occasion but I did get my commission bid in on time, so fingers crossed.