Welcome Home

“You’re 100% charged,” my wife informed me from the hallway. Taking this as a compliment on at least one aspect of my “welcome home from skiing” package [even though I’d forgotten the flowers again], I allowed myself a brief, self-satisfied smile.

She dropped my mobile phone on my desk and returned to plug hers in at the wall, in its place.

I remembered the look on the woman’s face in Solomon’s wonderful picture, First Class: The Meeting, one of a series of scenes in Victorian railway carriages that he produced. It attracted my attention again last week at the NRM. Now that’s truly a bunch of flowers-earning gaze, if ever I saw one. 

You for coffee?

I’m making a habit of calling in here first when I arrive at York station. This is no ordinary coffee shop, of course, but the old signalbox, overlooking the bridge that connects the platforms and with great views across this wonderful old railway cathedral.

Now run by one of the big chains, as you can see, I have to say that you get a good cup of coffee at this one, which is quite important when all you are drinking is the coffee without milk, sugar, caramel, chocolate and whatever else you can have in it these days.

A fine array, to be sure

This is one of a few, lining the walls at the NRM. There’s a few bob’s worth there. What nameplates would you have if you had a free choice? There are a few that come to mind, The Snapper [etc], Pearl Diver, Kingfisher, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, Cunard White Star, Princess Helena Victoria, Baillie MacWheeble.

OK, maybe not Baillie MacWheeble.

Azuma

This new Class 800 was on a test run for crew training purposes on the East Coast Main Line yesterday. I mentioned to the shadow next to mine on the platform at York that the front end was quite a pleasing design for a unit. “I don’t like it”, he said. “Why is that” I asked, innocently. “I don’t like the name. It’s Japanese”, was his reply.

Azuma means “east” in Japanese. I thought it was going to be something with a lot more panache than that, like “sleek”, “modern” or “speedy”. Far from being imposed on us by Hitachi [who after all have employed loads of British people in Newton Aycliffe to put them together] the name was chosen by Virgin [wonderfully British] because it was to be employed on the east side of the country, as opposed to the GWR ones on the west side of the country, which are somewhat less flamboyantly known as Intercity Express Trains [IET]. When LNER took over on the ECML, they embraced the name “Azuma” as well, and even wrote it on the front end to top off their new colour scheme. Perhaps the unhappy train watcher at York would have preferred it to have been made by a good old British sounding company like Bombardier.

I wished him all the best in his quest to avoid coming into contact with anything unsightly emanating from the rest of the world and wandered back down the platform, casting an eye over the empty interior of the train. It has had a few teething issues. It looks like some of the seats face a pillar rather than a window and the seats themselves look rather uncomfortable - very rigid and straight-backed. Who’s getting picky, now, I thought. I hope the ride is as smooth as on the elderly HST that had brought me north in the morning, with its retro-style, obsolete ash trays built in to the arm rests. Those were the days, I mused; the good old High Speed Train - no arguments over that one.

Touching Base

My wife is away skiing this week. I have a week of total freedom. What is the most exciting thing I could possibly do? I know. I’ll go to the National Railway Museum at York, for the umpteenth time.

More specifically, I will go to visit Search Engine, the museum’s excellent library and research centre, which is now approaching its tenth anniversary. So, I did.

  

Cromford, 2016

“Shall I take some pictures?” “Yes, please.” After all, Cromford station is a Grade II listed building and we don’t get here that often. I was not thinking about the building. I was casting my mind back more than 60 years.

I was whisked through this station when it was a double-track main line, on our two family holidays staying with my aunt in deepest Leicestershire. It would have been a Manchester Central to St Pancras steam-hauled express - a Patriot or a Jubilee. Why didn’t I start taking the numbers earlier? “You are still living in the 1960s.” “It was the late 50s”, I added, wistfully, still staring into space.

We walked the short and picturesque section of the Cromford canal as far as High Peak Junction. “This was a line I never got around to. They had those chunky J94s, the same as on Bidston sheds.”

I suddenly got the feeling that it was time for lunch. 

 

'Avin' a fag

During my smoking years [mostly, of other people’s ciggies] between the ages of 13 and 22, the urge to look cool triumphed over any qualms that I might have had about my health.

This old enamel sign is on Loughborough Central station. No clues to any inherent dangers, there. Ian and I came back from our early trips to France wielding multi-packs of duty-free, Royale king-size. They were mild and aromatic and I probably thought that they were a little less harmful than Embassy or Players No. 6, if I thought about it at all.

[Grah' and Ian enjoying a somewhat hazy café culture in the Lake District in October 1966, with thanks to Ian Hughes for providing the photo] 

Getting the wording right can be quite critical. Our local church sent me an email yesterday announcing news of their mission statement. I was not at all surprised that they had one, but it did leave me wondering why it had taken them over two thousand years to get the wording right.

If I’d taken any notice of the Craven’s ad’ and carried on smoking, I can confidently say that this railway heritage blog would never have existed. Then where would we have been - in addition to being relatively blogless?  

A Load of Truffles

The four-mile, preserved, Truffadou line runs between Martel and St Denis Les Martel. Re-opened in 1997, it is operated entirely by volunteers. It is so-called because it once carried truffles from Martel market. The local “black diamond” variety of “the fruiting body of a subterranean ascomycete fungus” [Wikipedia] is a gastronomic delicacy.

En route, there are fine views over the Dordogne valley from the open carriages. The railway had former French and Polish steam engines available for service when we visited the Rocamadour area in July 2013. They were also planning to restore the German tender locomotive and the diesel railcar.

Photos with thanks to Chris Priestley

Green Spain

Instead of enjoying the London Olympics in the summer of 2012, we managed to miss all the action by visiting “Green Spain”, on the northern coast. While we just kept on winning stuff at home, Spanish TV concentrated each evening on a procession of their own less successful competitors.

We had purposely chosen the less arid part of Spain to enjoy more moderate temperatures. Instead, we had to cower as best we could from the 40-degree Celsius mid-day heat and then jump in the hotel pool to cool off.

On the plus side, we experienced the Feve - then the term used to describe the metre-gauge line linking Bilbao and Santander in the east with the pilgrimage centre of Santiago de Compostela in the far west. We took the slow train west from Llanes and this meant a Poo stop for us. A bit further on, we came across the Transcantabrico, the luxury tourist train, in the resort of Ribadesela. I’m pretty sure that the luxury train had sailed straight through Poo without stopping, windows shut and blinds down.

Didcot 2012

Brunel’s amazing contribution to the nation continues to receive rightful recognition. Not everything he did turned out to be successful, however. Blazing a trail meant not being afraid of making mistakes.

Here are two examples on display at the Great Western Society’s HQ at Didcot Railway Centre which were eventually superseded by more successful alternatives - broad gauge track and the atmospheric railway, in which trains were moved by compressed air fed through a pipe laid between the rails.

Taking the Night Train

We slept on board Amtrak trains when crossing America. Someone described it as like sleeping on a shelf in a cupboard and though I didn’t actually sleep that much I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The strongest memory is of the mournful hooting from the diesel locomotive as it approached every single road crossing, accompanied by the “ting, tinging” of the fixed warning bells gradually fading away.

I’ve never used the sleeping car service in Britain, either the Penzance version from Paddington or overnight to the Highlands of Scotland. It is on my “to do” list. Simon Bradley has reminded me that “…what makes sleeping and awakening on these trains so special is the promise of magical translation to an utterly different place.” [The Railways, p.252]

In the early 1970s, I took an all-line rail rover for a week with the intention of spending more or less the whole time on the move. After my first overnight trip from Paddington to Plymouth on the sleeper train at the end of day one - on the cushions and not in bed - I “woke” with such a banging headache that it took days to shake off. I crawled home to the prized comfort of my own bed each night thereafter.

What I remember most at first light in the West Country is watching rabbits through an early morning mist - not just a few rabbits but millions of them. The west of England is rabbit city.

 

The Engine Shed

40A Lincoln is the shed in question, one I never reached in the days of steam. It closed in 1964, five years before we first visited the city. This was the main London North Eastern Railway shed adjacent to Brayford Wharf. The shed buildings were not pulled down. Instead, they were incorporated as part of Lincoln University. The space now includes an auditorium for live events, a bar and the student’s union.

The façade is unrecognisable as a former locomotive depot. A modern extension in steel and glass has transformed its appearance. Only from the inside can you see the original arched brickwork pattern on two levels, which is also visible on the old photograph of the site as it used to be. In both cases, East Holmes signalbox - next to the main line out of Lincoln station - gives you your bearings.

A brief history of the engine sheds in Lincoln -

The original 2 track Great Northern Railway shed was east of Lincoln GNR station. It was opened in 1851 but replaced because movements on and off the shed were complicated by the need to regularly close the roads at level crossings.  The replacement 4 track GNR shed was built in 1875 west of Lincoln Central station and south of Brayford Pool at Brayford Wharf. Originally coded LIN, it passed to the LNER in 1923 and became 40A under British Railways. It closed in 1964, after which Lincoln was a signing on point for drivers, coded LN up to May 1973.

The Midland Railway built a 2-track shed south of St Marks station in 1867, which was closed in 1959, demolished in 1974 and is now a car park.

The Manchester Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway built a shed at Sincil Junction, east of the city centre in 1874, which was closed by the LNER in 1939 and became a stabling point and carriage servicing facility and from 1956 also provided short-lived diesel servicing. It was a sub-shed of 40A in BR days and it closed in 1957 and then became a Stagecoach bus garage.

The Great Eastern Railway built a shed at Pyewipe Junction, west of the city, which closed in May 1925 and its men were then transferred to either the GN or the Great Central [former MSLR] shed.

There was also a small 2 track GC shed built at Pyewipe Sidings which was opened in 1897.

T'internet

The web is just such an amazing facility to have access to at the push of a few keys. Every now and then, my attention is drawn to a site which is new to me and which has obvious potential - so much so in this case, that I have added it to my favourites list straight away.

http://www.railmaponline.com/UKIEMap.php?fbclid=IwAR2-U54hi2fAAcHhrLaRaJjag0KvK6E5dN-NOV9rSM-iLSPGNlu38GDoTRc

With thanks to Robin Sharman, Southwell Railway Club

Festive Holiday Highlights

On our most recent visit to town, some young whipper-snapper offered me his seat on the tram. What’s more that was the second time in succession that has happened. What a cheek. Just because my hair has thinned a bit over the years [in some light] that surely doesn’t mean I look enough like an old person for some Mickey-taking youth to have a go at me in this way.

My main contribution to Christmas and the reason I had put myself in the firing line is because I am Santa’s [Chris’s] dutiful helper, following her around with the present list and carrying the purchases she has decided on back to the car. In return, I hope that we can combine shopping with a nice lunch.

When nominated for his knighthood, the woman interviewing Billy Connolly said “It’ll be strange for you having a knighthood, coming from nothing” to which he replied “I don’t come from nothing, I come from something” - a poignant and telling moment.

I also watched a Scottish league encounter on BT and was not really surprised to see that they are still kicking lumps out of each other in the top flight up there, bringing back memories of Tommy Smith, Norman Hunter and Peter Storey.

Before Christmas there was the Mourinho sacking. It went from “Mourinho will not comment on MU out of deepest respect” [BBC Online] to “Mourinho breaks silence” [MSN Newsfeed] and then “Mourinho opens up on being fired” [The “i”] in less than 24 hours, so no change there then.

Then I read a report that said that “Boxing’s pay-per-view clash was senseless”, which I had already agreed with on at least two levels before I realised that it was referring to two televised events being broadcast simultaneously. What a curious business that is, involving grown-up people - and that’s just the weigh-in.

In the bookshop, I came across the ideal Christmas present for people who voted for Brexit. It is the Ladybird Brexit book. I quickly realised that I don’t actually know anyone that I could give it to.

I look forward to the New Year for some innocent escapism on the railway scene from the current debacle.

Silver Service

When I took the early morning Liverpool Pullman to London in 1968, I received a free return ticket that included a full English breakfast served at my table. I passed the interview at the Eversholt Street BR HQ next to Euston station but my A levels turned out to be insufficient for access to the management scheme. My life would otherwise have been so different, such are these “sliding door” moments that decide our fate.

That was the first and only time that I ever enjoyed a restaurant car service on a train in Britain, not counting the pre-prepared, microwaved, airline style catering that I have since experienced on a very occasional sampling of First Class on the East Coast Main Line.

Simon Bradley has just reminded me of this on page 223 of his wonderful book, The Railways - Nation, Network and People. As you will already be more than aware, I could not have put it better myself.

  

The Swanage Railway, Easter 2015

We travelled in the former Devon Belle observation car which gave great close-ups of the Standard tank that was hauling the formation backwards up the hill to Corfe Castle.

I have a soft spot for Swanage; such a typically British seaside resort with impressive views of some dramatic coastal scenery in every direction. The cliff-top walk from the headland in Durlston Country Park is perhaps the highlight.

Photos with thanks to Chris Priestley.   

If you go down to the woods today...

The RSPB opened its new visitors centre at Edwinstowe in Sherwood Forest earlier this year. This seems like a great move to me on a number of counts. Firstly, Sherwood itself has a remarkable concentration of old oak trees - an ancient ecosystem well worthy of enhanced protection. For birders there are resident marsh tits, woodlarks and lesser-spotted woodpeckers and summer woodland species including common redstart and spotted flycatcher, in addition to the range of warblers.

Making the most of the Robin Hood story has never seemed to stretch the imagination of local government in Nottinghamshire, in spite of the obvious potential for tourist development. Robin Hood still lures a steady flow of inquisitive visitors from all over the world to see the most famous forest in the world, first hand. They must have sometimes gone away wondering why they had bothered, given the lack of a spark devoted to making the most of the legend, so far.

Combining the protection of birds with the popularity of the Robin Hood theme is quite a task for the RSPB. They have made an excellent start with the new facilities. How they manage the numbers that can be expected in the summer of 2019 and thereafter is going to present much food for thought, however. The development of co-operative relationships with local residents and businesses will be significant for the long-term success of the project.

Chris has recently volunteered to put in some time there and is finding out which of the possible activities suit her best. I went up with her on a recent foray and was intrigued to hear about a “new” railway close to home that I had never heard of before. 

During World War Two the Royal Army Ordnance operated an ammunition storage depot on behalf of the US Army in Sherwood Forest. There is no trace today of the narrow-gauge railway that was used to carry the munitions around the site but various shallow pits are identifiable where the dumps were previously located. After the war, unused ammunition was stockpiled until it was assigned elsewhere or disposed of. The depot was finally closed down in 1954.

With thanks to Jack Baddams, RSPB Sherwood Forest, Edwinstowe, Nottinghamshire.