Nine Elms Boxing Day 1966

Fifty-seven years ago today, we went round Nine Elms sheds on a cold, bright morning. A brazier was burning brightly next to the water column, so that it didn’t freeze up. Most of the Bulleid Pacifics on shed were grubby and in poor repair, though many still had nameplates intact. The Standard tanks generally looked a bit more presentable. There was nobody else about and it was rather a sad scene. Southern steam would be all over six months later, so we were actually just in time. Though we counted six Merchant Navies and twelve Light Pacifics, the only one actually moving was Battle of Britain Class No. 34089 602 Squadron, which was being prepared for action before backing down to Waterloo to take out a west of England express.

Lace City Chorus at the GCR

The Nottingham based Barbershop style singers entertained passengers taking the Santa Specials at Loughborough Central station on Saturday. With the choir assembled to face the departure platform, GCR customers were then treated to a range of festive songs, chosen to suit the occasion.

The chorus, which began at a secondary school in the city in 1992, has grown to become a substantial choir of about 70 members, renowned both regionally and nationally, as a result of success in competitions at home and abroad. Success has led to participation at a series of world championships in the USA over recent years. They are currently fund raising for their next such venture, to Kansas City, next year. You can check them out at lacecitychorus.org

On Saturday, however, they met with some noisy competition from Standard Class 9F No. 92214, warming up nicely for her trip up the line with Father Christmas. The LNER teak baggage car was at the rear of the formation, presumably packed with prezzies and mince pies. No. 92214 carries an 82F Bath Green Park shed plate. She first arrived on the old S&DJR in summer 1964 to assist with holiday excursions over the line, and is believed to be the last 9F to operate between Bath and Bournemouth. After a somewhat competitive bout of letting off steam from her safety valves and cylinder cocks, the BR Standard survivor, now a resident at the GCR, eventually made way for the choir to take centre stage once again.

Pendolino Time, Come On

I had previously enjoyed the briefest of trips on a very full Avanti West Coast Pendolino from Stoke to Manchester Piccadilly, but it didn’t seem fair to judge it on that relatively flat stretch alone. We needed to glide round the curves on Shap and Beattock, at the very least, to experience the tilting train technology.

Using a technology first developed for BR’s Advanced Passenger Train, when that venture failed the Italians took the initiative and the Pendolino was the result. The idea was that you could increase existing line speed safely and comfortably for passengers by adopting a tilting mechanism when going round bends, without the need for a new and expensive railway line having to be built from scratch. So it was that the Pendolino became the mainstay of the longer distance inter city services on the West Coast Main Line, a situation that has now existed for two decades. 

The 12.08 from Crewe to Glasgow Central was already heaving with passengers when we boarded it on 20/11/23. There was someone sitting in my seat. I politely approached him, but he made it perfectly clear that he was staying put. His get out clause was that the overhead seat reservation display was not showing any reservations. This was soon announced as a fact over the train audio system. The seat reservation computer system had failed nationally. By then, I’d seen the guard approaching and told him our tale of woe. He directed us immediately to coach H, described as standard premium, which he added “we could have on him”. We gratefully accepted his invitation and spread out in the comparative luxury of a half empty carriage, as the train sped us past the soap factory at Warrington, then over the hills and far away. It was a really nice experience. Unfortunately for those in the proper first-class coaches, [J and K], blokey had not turned up for work, so their “at your seat service” did not come into effect until Preston, when someone who had indeed got out of bed at the right time was due to take over the role anyway. My tuna sandwich and crisps tasted better than ever as we started to climb up the Lune Valley towards Cumbria.

On our way back to Crewe two days later, the IT system was still down, apparently, but we had secured our seats in good time. Once shoe-horned in, the seat itself was not uncomfortable. The window seat facing the direction of travel is always a critical part of the overall experience for me. My window was shared with a lady in front of me who had a narrow slice of it and a man behind me with a similarly restricted chunk. The low wintery sun came out unexpectedly before Carlisle and the lady then half closed “our” joint blind. I had to crouch down in my seat to enjoy the remaining sliver of the passing landscape.

However, I realised that if we had been assigned seats B36 or B33, both of which were window seats, as claimed on the display above them, I would have had a window seat without a window, at all. They were window seats in name only because all you had was a grey carriage side wall to look at. It would have been totally unsatisfactory and even somewhat claustrophobic. The seats on the Pendolino in standard class are tall. You can’t see over them. Your view is severely limited when looking up, down, forward, backward and to one side of the non-window, window seats. It’s like being in a box that only opens in one direction. The only view at all is of the person next to you. In my case that was very pleasing [naturally], but that might not be a universally held view, depending on who one ends up sitting next to. I would have hated it in B33 or B36. And then there’s the luggage racks. They’re tiny.

I have sampled the more recent Hitachi Aviva high-speed trains, which run on the East Coast Main Line out of King’s Cross, and they felt much better. I also know a couple who travel regularly from Crewe to London Euston but always take the slower eight-car Class 350 Desiro EMUs, which they find spacious, comfortable, airy and with good surround views, rather than putting up with the rather cramped experience on the Class 390 Pendolinos. If I was taking regular journeys on the WCML, I would be tempted to do the same thing, even though the journey takes quite a bit longer because of its more frequent station stops. 

    

Original railway art sold at railwayana auctions in 2023

This account covers the sale of original paintings of Britain’s railways at the main railwayana auctions up to the end of 2023. Other auction house and fine art sales that may also have included railway paintings are not listed. Of the main railwayana auction houses that attracted most advertised artwork lots in 2023, GWRA, GCRA and GNRA, remained as online sales, continuing the pattern established during the restrictions associated with Covid. Talisman in Nottinghamshire have bucked the trend, successfully returning to live events at the Newark Showground. The operators will have saved on outgoings by not running live events, but the theatre of the live auction is impossible to recreate via a computer monitor.

The number of original railway paintings sold at railwayana auctions rose steadily from 32 in 2011 to 144 in 2021, but has fallen back since then to 71 by 2023. The number of railway artists represented followed a similar pattern, up from 25 in 2011 to 59 in 2021 and then down to 32 in 2023. In 2023, ten paintings by six different artists reached or surpassed a £1,000 hammer price at railwayana auctions. The number of paintings sold in this way since 2011 and the artists concerned were:

2011 - 3 paintings, by Heiron [2], Broom,

2012 - 3 paintings, by Bottomley, Hawkins, Broom,

2013 - 8 paintings, by Broom [2], Breckon [2], Heiron, Root, Price, Freeman,

2014 - 7 paintings, by Root [3], Elford, Breckon, Freeman, Hawkins,

2015 - 11 paintings, by Breckon [3], Hawkins [2], Root [2], Beech, Ellis, Elford, Price.

2016 - 13 paintings, by Breckon [4], Price [3], Hawkins [2], Freeman, Root, Broom, Greene                

2017 - 7 paintings, by Freeman [2], Price [2], Broom, Root, Breckon,

2018 - 9 paintings, by Hawkins [4], Breckon [2], Price [2], Root,

2019 - 9 paintings, by Breckon [4], Broom, Cuneo, P. O. Jones, Root,

2020 - 7 paintings, by Price [4], Freeman, P. O. Jones, Shelbourne,

2021 - 11 paintings, by Breckon [3], Price [3], Hawkins [2], Fearnley, Broom, Freeman,

2022 - 9 paintings by Breckon [5], Root [2], Price [2],

2023 - 10 paintings by Breckon [5], Fearnley, Root, Heiron, Hammonds, Marshall,

The work of a relatively small group of favoured contemporary railway artists continues to sell at well above the rates achieved more generally. Over the last thirteen years, works by Don Breckon [30], Barry G. Price [18], Malcolm Root [13], Philip D. Hawkins [12], Gerald Broom [8] and Barry Freeman [7] have been most prominent in this category. Don Breckon’s painting, The Haymaking [1987], sold for a hammer price of £5,500 at GWRA, in March 2023. The leading railwayana auction houses keep archives of the results of previous sales on their websites, where it’s possible to see images of the paintings themselves and the sums that they reached.

Paintings by Terence Cuneo and David Shepherd - both former fellows of the Guild of Railway Artists - appear infrequently at railwayana auctions. Both artists are recognised nationally as having a wider remit than just for their railway pictures. Hoping that examples of their railway work could therefore appeal to a wider range of prospective buyers, potential vendors might logically prefer the fine art or general auction house sale option, instead. For those artists who are primarily [or solely] known as railway artists, the railwayana auction route may be considered as the more logical route to take, so, perhaps a case of playing it safe by reaching out to the already converted!

 This painting of a 1960s shed scene by Chris Holland was one of those sold at a railwayana auction in 2023. 

Glasgow Central

If Queen Street was all about the glass, then the first impression I gained on arrival at Glasgow Central was that this one was all about the wood. Though this turned out not to be the whole story, the large oval-shaped former booking office and train information building that was added to the concourse at the start of the twentieth century, and which now serves as a restaurant, still gives the station an initial and distinctive appeal today.

Scotland’s busiest station was built in 1879 by the Caledonian Railway. It’s got a good bustle about it that befits its location and the terminus of the WCML from London Euston, and like Queen Street, it is also hemmed in within the central area of the city. It is approached by rail over the bridge that straddles the River Clyde. The main pedestrian entrance is marked by ornate and substantial iron gates and a lengthy porte cochere that opens up onto Gordon Street. Above that is the old Grand Central railway hotel, which was added in 1884. The station concourse gains light from a vast overall glass roof, which then extends over the platforms, giving the whole entity a real sense of importance. Simon Jenkins gave it five stars in his book, Britain’s 100 Best Railway Stations, describing it as the “custodian of the city’s soul”.

         

Stirling Station, 1887

William Kennedy [1859-1918] was a Scottish artist and part of the Glasgow School, perhaps better known as the Glasgow Boys. A selection of their work was on display at the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum during our recent visit to the city. What an extraordinary building it is, described as Spanish Baroque in style, and proudly announcing the second city of the Empire as a major cultural centre, in addition to ship building, manufacturing and commerce. You need to give it a few hours once there, helped along by a café in the main entrance hall, a very reasonably priced restaurant below stairs and free organ recitals to see you through lunchtime in splendid fashion.

William Kennedy attended Paisley School of Art before moving to Paris for further study. At his studio in Stirling, he painted landscapes and military subjects, but luckily also this one of the station, which was the only railway painting I found displayed on the day. The twilight scene surely has both Impressionist and late twentieth century Realist elements. It shows a busy platform and quite a lot of activity on the adjacent lines, as well. The lad selling goods from his basket was likely to be well rewarded for his efforts.

      

Farnsfield’s Shanks and McEwan Connection

[With thanks to Gill Sarre, Secretary of Farnsfield Local History Society, for providing the images and prompting this article, which can also be found in the current FLHS newsletter. They are an intriguing set of snaps and there may be more to the story than this, so, if anyone can add any more details or correct any misinterpretations, I’d be pleased to hear from them. My account is informed largely by the information written on the back of the photos, so, as the article stands, any assumptions I’ve made that are factually inaccurate are currently down to me.]

This set of six photographs of industrial steam locomotives attracted attention because of the mention of Farnsfield on the back of each picture, and they were subsequently acquired from the online market place that had advertised them. There were also further hand-written clues to what had brought them to “Farnsfield, Nr. Ollerton, Notts”. Each one mentions Shanks and McEwan, one adding “of Glasgow”, another “Farnsfield – Ollerton LMS/LNE contract 1929-1931”, a third “stored following a contract at Farnsfield c. 1939” and finally “to be cut up at Farnsfield 1942”.

Shanks and McEwan Ltd was a Scottish construction company, starting off in 1880 and becoming a prominent civil engineering firm involved with railway construction. It had also developed quarrying interests before settling on environmental services and waste management, including a landfill site at Corby. It still operates today under the name of Renewi, primarily in the Benelux countries.

The photos show the company’s name written across the flank of the engines. This shows that they were owned by the contractors and not built by them. It’s not possible to make out the information on the builders’ plates, which all locomotives carried, usually as oval-shaped brass or cast-iron plates attached to the cab side. The numbers given to the engines would be those describing their position in the company’s own fleet. Numbers 1, 49 and 82 are present and another is named Liverpool, with shots of both sides of that loco included. The engines are described as 0-4-0 and 0-6-0 saddle tanks, the former being the normal way that the size of a locomotive is classified - with reference to its wheel arrangement, and the second being how the engine carries the water it needs, in these cases in a saddle-shaped tank that straddles the boiler. There is a reference to “Peck” next to a number on the other side of the Liverpool engine. I think this refers to a locomotive built by Peckett, a well-known and prolific Bristol-based industrial locomotive manufacturers, though online lists show that the builder’s number given, 564, does not coincide with the date offered for construction of 1897. The smaller locos resemble Peckett’s W4 class.

So, what brought them all to Farnsfield in the first place, only for them to languish there for some time afterwards? Between the world wars the eastern part of the Nottinghamshire coalfield was still being developed and Bilsthorpe pit was due to open in 1928. The London Midland and Scottish Railway and the London North Eastern Railway proposed a new seven-mile-long joint railway line between Ollerton and Farnsfield to take out coal southwards. Using a junction at Farnsfield and opened in 1931, this allowed them to gain access to the existing former Midland Railway route to Southwell, before taking a spur beyond the town to join what we now know as the Castle line at Fiskerton Junction on the edge of the village of Morton.

Shanks and McEwan were presumably contracted to build the line, bringing in their own locomotives to get the job done. What seems to have happened after construction was over is that the engines were no longer needed elsewhere and were allowed to rot slowly in sidings at Farnsfield - of which there were sufficient number to accommodate them - before there were cut up on site in 1942. Perhaps the war effort needed the scrap metal more urgently by then. It’s possible also that the company had already decided on its move towards environmental services and away from civil engineering by that time, so the engines were suddenly surplus to their future requirements after completion of the new link.

Queen Street, Glasgow

Well, here’s a nice station with a good vibe. What’s so good about it? It’s got an overall roof and its neatly hemmed in within Glasgow city centre. Walking round its northern boundary, where the road overbridge allows you a peak of the edge of the roof at the station throat and just before the tracks plunge into a tunnel, it reminded me of Liverpool Lime Street. It’s the south facing façade, however, that gives Queen Street its special attraction. Its all glass but set at a jaunty angle. Along with the train shed roof, that makes for a very light and airy concourse. I found it quite uplifting.

I had been here once before, taking an Edinburgh train in 1972 and just having enough time to photograph English Electric Type Four No. 261 at the head of an Aberdeen express. Last week and over half a century later, this service was in the hands of the HSTs, now enjoying their well-deserved swan song years and clinging on at the two extremities of the UK network.

What the ____ am I doing here?

[Written for Writers Live Open Mic at Southwell Library on 24/11/23]

Every now and then, I go off on a train day. Firstly, I head for a railway station in the car. I make for one where I know I can park easily and cheaply and is in the general direction of the place I want to visit. I start my day at about 9, so that when I buy my ticket, I will qualify for a cheap off-peak return. I also then avoid the rush hour on the road and I have not had to get up at stupid o’ clock. I buy my ticket at the station, having worked out beforehand my itinerary and likely timings. Most stations I start at still have ticket offices, which I’m pleased to say is likely to continue to be the case, for now, at least.

On arrival at my chosen location, I make straight for the loo - regular bodily function plus my “Sorry to rush you” medication. Secondly, I find a station sign as a backdrop to a selfie on my phone, which I then send to my mates, along with a witty comment. The subliminal message is what a good time I’m having in my retirement and how extraordinarily adventurous and fit I still am, breezily careering around the country on a whim. No one replies.

Then a go and find a platform bench. It has to be somewhere out in the open with a good view of the action on the tracks. I prefer an old seat with authentic railway heritage, common on the former Great Western Railway, but less likely anywhere else. I sit on my bench and relax. I am suddenly thoroughly at home again. I have been doing this all my life, off and on. This is my time, in my choice of place. It is my diversion from my real life - the one that occupies all the other times and spaces. This is who I am, I decide again.  

Within seconds, though, I occasionally have a sharply contrasting thought. What the fuck am I doing here? I should be out helping people - driving old people to hospital or chopping down vegetation to maintain a wildlife corridor on the trail. I could at least be doing something more constructive, like completing a useful DIY task at home, or creative, like writing a book. Instead, I am being totally self-indulgent with no benefit to humanity at all, and at some cost to the environment, thanks to my otherwise unnecessary car journey to the station.

So, what am I actually doing here? I’m writing down train numbers, looking up those numbers in a list in a book, in preparation, if I haven’t seen them before, for underlining them with my six-inch plastic ruler when I get home. I’ve been doing this for 62 years. I still get a buzz out of creating continuous runs of underlined numbers and even more so when I have seen all the locomotives in the same class to complete the set. Then I stop recording them, of course, now barely recognising their formerly so important digits.

Is this my version of the hunter gatherer gene? I’d have been crap at the hunting bit, for sure. Nevertheless, should I have given it up about 57 years ago? Maybe, but when steam ended and my friends packed in, I carried on. I must have needed it more than they did. In my twenties and thirties, when I was too embarrassed to admit to still being a train spotter, I wrote down the numbers in the margin of my dual-purpose copy of the Guardian during any rail journey I made. I obviously didn’t want anyone to think I wasn’t cool or anything.

My next move is to take some photos of trains. I like the challenges this poses. I have a modestly priced camera with a pretty decent telephoto lens, but no way have I mastered the art. Nevertheless, I get a kick out of trying for a clear image, a variety of subject matter, interesting angles, uncommon background settings and imaginative compositions. When I look through them all afterwards on the computer screen at home, I see that most of them have surprisingly morphed into some rather ordinary three-quarter front-end snaps of trains with no artistic ingredient evident at all.  

It must be lunch time. I won’t allow myself food until mid-day, unlike the early days when I’d finished the lot by half eleven. I absolutely love my one round cheese sandwich with crisps, enjoyed on my bench and surrounded - up to a point - by the sights and sounds of my youth. I can even get a decent cup of coffee to go with it these days. Now that is an improvement.

I always leave the station but never venture very far from it. I’m on the look-out for an all-encompassing view of the station frontage. This can sometimes be surprisingly difficult and is subject to the configuration of the surrounding roads and the lay-out of nearby buildings. I have come to appreciate many different aspects of our railway heritage as time has gone by, so it’s not just the trains that I’m here for. Station design varies enormously. Some I love and some I really don’t, but increasingly, I understand how things got to be how they are and I find that quite rewarding.

Back on the station, I also spend time watching people making journeys. I’m usually drawn to larger and busier stations, anyway, so usually they are railway junctions. Places where people change trains fascinate me. There are the seasoned, purposeful travellers who know the ropes and just where they are heading, so confident and assured. There are also those for whom the whole experience is clearly an unfamiliar nightmare. Am I on the right platform at the right time? Is my train the next or the one after that? Do I have to change again? Can I sit anywhere? Is it just first-class at the front? Where is the quiet coach? Is there a refreshment trolley on board or should I get a sandwich now? Luckily, these days there is abundant help available, with VDU displays updated to the second and those pervasive staccato and rather robotic station announcements, so much clearer to make out than in the past, though without the evocative regional accents.

Then there’s the parting and meeting scenarios, perhaps most dramatically played out these days at international airports and the London terminus stations. Heartfelt moments of human interaction, those being torn apart, and those ecstatic at the very moment of their timely reunion. Stations are also great mixers of social class. Anyone who thinks that’s no longer significant, I’d point towards Kate Fox’s Watching the English for a bit of an eye opener. There may be first-class seats and first-class lounges, but the barriers, concourse, platforms, buffets, as well as the corridors on trains, are universal mixing points, sometimes uncomfortably so for those who usually go for exclusivity.

By early afternoon I’ve generally had my fix. I want to make my journey home in daylight so that I can appreciate the landscape I’m passing through once more. I never read or sleep on a train. My eyes are glued to the window as the world outside unfurls. I also miss the evening rush hour on the road. People travelling home from work by car can be a tetchy and gung-ho bunch. I’m already looking forward to refashioning my notes for my next blog and to underlining those numbers, of course.

Time wasted? Not for me. I’ve kept the faith, gone back to base, revisited my past and found plenty to amuse, intrigue and even surprise me. When the die was cast all those years ago there was certainly an element of escapism in it for me. There was nothing troublesome about trains. They never caused upset or disappointment. I found solace, with or without my mates. Perhaps it is simply that old habits die hard and it just became engrained, eventually becoming something that I was pleased to be associated with and in the end even proud of. I’m glad I’ve got interests, even if others can’t get their heads round this one. It has also made me more tolerant and interested when it comes to anyone else with a less than mainstream pastime. Each to their own, life’s rich tapestry, etc.

So, where does the self-doubt come into it? Am I alone in this? I got it at work, too, before the end of my time there, and in a sporting context when I have been on the receiving end of a comprehensive drubbing and felt incapable of making a difference to the result. It is that sudden realisation that I may be wasting my time. Time is of the essence, after all. Time is ultimately what we have. Is it the Protestant work ethic thing giving me a guilt trip? Is it a legacy issue? “Mike Priestley. Trainspotter. He saw all his Britannias but fell short with his Class 47 diesels” may not cut it, but in the absence of a guiding force in any particular direction, I guess it’s just a matter of keeping on keeping on, as Alan Bennett so appropriately put it.

 

Macclesfield

The down platform was heaving with young people intent on a good Saturday night out in Manchester. It was only three in the afternoon. It seemed like they must have been issued with an alcoholic beverage of their choice when they bought their tickets. They were clearly starting as they meant to continue. Being a guard on the last train home to Macclesfield must be a fun shift.  

Macclesfield station is uninspiring. Though train services are relatively frequent on the electrified Piccadilly to Stoke route, the buildings are very much from the Modernist and Brutalist sixties era. There is no trace of the original station of 1873, built jointly by the North Staffordshire Railway and the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway.

Macclesfield itself was a pleasant surprise. The imposing town hall is perched on the top of a ridge next to the parish church and overlooking a tight-knit pattern of cobbled streets. We had no trouble finding cafes of individuality, that were clearly making an effort to please. Café ambience is so important, when you are using such places as a base for catching up with friends, and the first impressions created by the staff always seems to set the tone for what follows.

Back at the station, the delayed Manchester-bound train would have emptied the platform well before we’d finished our own afternoon refreshments of tea and cake. The party goers would have no doubt been hoping for a Pendolino from Euston equipped with a buffet to whisk them to the Northern Powerhouse. The alternative local Northern Class 331 unit from Stoke would probably have been totally dry.

 

Leeds

Just before the train slowly winds its way through the labyrinth of tracks that is the approach to Leeds station, you get a good view of Elland Road football ground. I’ve been there only once, and Wayne Rooney scored the winner. Proudly emblazoned across the side of the stadium that is visible from the railway are the words “The Jack Charlton Stand”. Even Jack might not have been able to prevent the Everton prodigy having his way on that night. Quite by chance, I had arrived there at the same time as the Leeds coach. An Evertonian, who had obviously been lying in wait for it, gave Nick Barmby a right mouthful for having dared to cross Stanley Park to play for the Reds. At the same time, I also exchanged a much more courteous hello with Dave Watson, not long after his own retirement from EFC. Such things stick in your mind.

I went through Leeds City by train a number of times in the 1960s, but I remember little about the station itself. It seems to have grown substantially while I’ve been away. It’s now got 18 platforms, plus the sub-divisions [a, b, c and d]. Its very busy with both people and trains. In fact, there have been a whole series of alterations and additions to the station since the start of the millennium. The modern overall roof unfortunately cuts out a lot of the natural light from the platforms, not helped by an overcast November day. Two spacious footbridges and a wide paved concourse link it all together. A vast illuminated overhead screen showing every possible destination from A to Z gave a clear indication of the variety of routes you can take from here to all points of the compass.

I headed for the entrance. There are plenty to choose from, though none seem to give the station the grandeur its size and regional importance deserve. In addition to the more recently added southern entrance, one is to the main car park and the access point for buses and taxis, one is totally dwarfed by the adjacent, imposing, Grade II listed Art Deco Queens Hotel [built by the LMS railway to replace an earlier one on the same site], and the fourth currently has temporary sheeting in front of it while work goes on unseen behind the divide. The food hall and retail area that links the platforms to the City Square exit is a very attractive period feature, however. It is William Henry Hamlyn’s North Concourse, also dating from the 1930s, when two former stations were replaced by a modern Leeds City. A light, airy and attractive space, it was bustling at lunchtime and my guess would be that many of those enjoying a break were not there for a train, at all.

Given that this station has clearly evolved in stages in response to pressing needs and increased demand, they have actually made a good job of marrying the [not so] old and worthy of retention with the steel and glass that signifies the modern era. The overall envelope can’t have changed very much over time, as it’s bound up within a city centre site, but rationalisation and improvisation have allowed it to develop to become the third busiest station in England outside London. It may never see HS2, but an emphasis in future on improving services between northern cities suggests that Leeds will just carry on adapting, as it has obviously done regularly since the nineteen thirties.

Farnsfield Heritage Trail

Farnsfield Heritage Trail was officially launched at an event in the Village Centre on New Hill on Saturday 4/11/23. It has been created by the Farnsfield Local History Society http://farnsfieldlhs.co.uk and is accompanied by a tastefully produced pocket guide to the village’s most notable historic buildings, all found at various locations along Main Street.

The table top display of photos also included a view of the station house at the junction of Cockett Lane and Station Lane. Opened in 1871 by the Midland Railway, the Mansfield to Southwell route was relatively short-lived. The village’s station closed to passengers as early as 1929. Farnsfield also had a goods depot, visible in the distance on the photograph. Freight trains continued to pass through Farnsfield until 1964 and outbound coal traffic finished in the following year. The goods shed was then used to store pantomime scenery for a time and also suffered a serious fire that removed the roof, before it was transformed into a sizable, modern family house. The station house also became an attractive private dwelling. The photo shows the view eastwards towards Southwell, sometime after track removal had taken place and before the development of the Southwell Trail on the former track bed for recreational purposes. There is an interesting account of the line in the book by Paul Anderson and Jack Cupit, entitled An Illustrated History of Mansfield’s Railways.

    

A Grey Day in Stafford

It was difficult to get a nice picture of the façade of Stafford station. Partly this was because local road and building configurations made it tricky, but mostly it was because the frontage at Stafford station is just not very attractive. As an example of 1960s, Brutalist architecture, it’s about the worst I can remember seeing in a railway context. The view opposite of the well-tended public park was much more uplifting. Proponents obviously considered that unrelieved, functional concrete was the antithesis to all previous attractive architectural styles, so they succeeded big-time here. Even the attendant brickwork was grey. To make the point, a large wall facing platform one, which may not have been grey enough to begin with, had subsequently been given a good coat of dark grey paint to ensure it fitted in.

On the station and under an overcast sky, it was left to the modern railway rolling stock and locomotives in their various company liveries to provide the splashes of colour. The station was busy, both from the point of view of passengers coming and going, but also from the action on the WCML. Serving as a junction to the north for the Manchester via Stoke route and to the south for London and the south west via Birmingham, there was plenty of changing of trains going on.

I asked a gaggle of spotters parked in a bus shelter affair on the island platform, three and four, to confirm the identities of the various Class 66s that I’d passed during my journey from Nuneaton on one of the nippy semi-fast Class 350 units that operate between Crewe and Euston. They were obviously stuck to their seats for the day but they kindly came up with the relevant goods to confirm that my eye sight was not as bad as I’d feared. It struck me that as there was plenty of room on the EMU, both ways, this was because they run them as eight coach affairs [two x four cars], a refreshing change from overcrowded cross-country services serving a string of sizable towns and cities with much shorter trains, which often seems to be the case.