Just Strolling

“We’ve got no room for it,” was my wife’s response to the installation in my office of this carefully selected piece of our railway heritage. “I don’t want to be left with all of

this stuff to get rid of,” she added - to which I had no immediate response. I resolved that I would eventually dispense with some of the “stuff” myself.

It got me thinking about how following generations will view paraphernalia that we [some of us] find so fascinating today. Of course, antiques of all kind are subject to changes in taste and fashion that are then reflected in fluctuating prices. It may well be that such variations are only to be expected in the area of collectibles like our own.

The market in railwayana is dominated by men of a certain age. Many other areas of interest are not so skewed. Let’s not beat about the bush, here. It largely appeals to a substantial group of former train spotters who are old enough to have enjoyed first-hand the age of steam.

We have a well-attended U3A set-up, locally, and we dipped our toes in when we first became eligible and had the time to do so. I read the notice showing a hierarchy of walking groups that could be ranked by the nature of the physical challenge that each posed. After Peak District walks, long walks, medium walks and short walks, came strolling. Its monthly bulletin read that there would be no strolling in August due to family visits and medical treatment. There would be no strolling in September or October due to holidays. As from November, there would only be one strolling group, on the 4^th Wednesday morning of the month. I felt like adding, “but don’t hold your breath,” but then thought better of it. 

I’m on the lookout for signs of forgetfulness as an indicator of my own ageing process. We quite often set out in the car these days and have to return within minutes to check that we have switched off the heated towel rail or closed the bathroom window. A friend even takes her hair straighteners to work with her so that she can be sure that they are switched off.

When I tell “outsider” friends about the cash exchanged for sought after name plates at railwayana auctions, they are frankly flabbergasted that such sums are frequently dispensed with “for pieces of metal.” Future generations will surely not value these artefacts as we do, because the nostalgia factor will be missing. They may still be rare, tell a story, be evocative examples of art and craft or be creations of engineering practices that are long gone, but they won’t have quite the same piquancy for potential buyers.

The important thing is that they continue to be seen as worthwhile in their own right as articles from another age, part of our history and heritage and reminders of lost industrial processes. Their value is intrinsic and in the end that may be much less to do with money. It won’t matter as long as they are still cared for. We are merely guardians of this “stuff” and we can only covet it and own it for a limited period. It may well end up somewhere else, but that’s OK. We shall offer it a good home for now and just enjoy it while we can.