My sort of pow wow

The last railwayana auction of the year was at Stoneleigh. As I drove in through the Warwickshire showground gates, a notice said that Archery UK were having a get-together next door, so I wound up my window and sat low in my seat. I made a dash for it across the car park and got to the venue unscathed.

An elderly gentleman stood over a shelf at the foot of the stairs. He seemed to be surrounded by pieces of paper, strewn across the ledge and all around his feet. As I passed him, I could see that they were all bank notes. Was this his life savings? Was he planning a big splash on a nameplate or a totem? Had he just received a surprise windfall in the form of a shower of cash from above? It reminded me of Terry Thomas in Tom Thumb, counting out the loot.

There was quite a good turn-out by those planning Christmas shopping for themselves. I wasn’t buying anything and I wasn’t selling anything. I wasn’t meeting anybody. I had no cash on me for a spontaneous purchase from a side stall. I hadn’t arranged to bring anything for someone or take anything away. Why was I even there?

I had a chat with one of the Stoneleigh helpers. His own interest is in signalling equipment. I’d often wondered who bought all that stuff. At his home, he has recreated the innards of a former BR signalbox, with everything connected up and running to a timetable, complete with bell-codes and recorded sounds of passing steam trains. Now it makes sense.

I spoke to a guy who deals in railway posters, buying at auction and wherever he can and selling largely online. It is a time-consuming labour of love. As he said, he would not do it if he did not have a genuine affection for the posters themselves. Like me, he finds them fascinating items in their own right.

I talked to the acknowledged expert on carriage prints about a request that he had received to assess the value of some railway artwork. I had felt quite humbled when he asked me for a second opinion about it.

In the café, I looked round at all the huddled and animated discussions about collecting old railway bits and bobs. On the next table was a man who had recently sold me the 1920s enamel sign advertising tea that now adorns the wall in our kitchen.  

I’d hardly spent any time at all watching the main event unfolding, yet I already knew why I was there. There is something enriching about witnessing unbridled enthusiasm in action. Added to that, my knowledge about our railway heritage is enhanced by various little snippets every time I venture out.

I made for the exit. Outside, a man and his son walked past me carrying large and colourful archery bows. Although I am from a different tribe, thankfully they kept them down by their sides.