The end of steam in sixty-eight

These photos were taken on Sunday 11^th August 1968. Ian called for me and we went round for John. If my memory serves me, the bottle of pop lasted no further than the pavement outside 16 Mount Road. We picked up Grah’ on the way to New Brighton station and took “the underground” to Liverpool Central Low Level before wandering up to Lime Street.

August eleventh was the date

for the end of steam in sixty-eight,

an event destined to deflate,

but what a crowd on platform eight.

A “black five” turned out, not a crate,

with driver proud and fireman mate,

fire burning brightly in the grate,

days numbered, what would be her fate?

Whistle to lips, as cheeks inflate,

last steam departs from this estate.

Thunderous echoes at last abate,

last wisps of smoke they could create.

Trudged sadly homewards through the gate,

we thought we had been born too late,

no cinders falling on your pate,

the country now a diesel state.

Although there was no one to hate,

I really couldn’t get it straight.

It left me feeling quite irate,

steam, then, just pictures at the Tate.

But progress onward at a rate,

means now the situation’s great,

a new “Tornado” to elate.

All things come to those that wait.

Mike Priestley, 2008