A brief sortie to Leicester

My morning trip from Lowdham to Leicester, with a change of trains at Long Eaton, provided route mileage that was new to me in the form of the short west to south curve at Trent Junction, though I realise that this might be of only marginal interest elsewhere. As it happened, the Class 222 express from Sheffield to St Pancras was absolutely rammed, due to the cancellation of the previous service, so it was standing room only all the way to Leicester.

UK Rail Leasing’s depot held Class 68 No. 68026 in the yard with Class 56 No. 56098 just visible from the platform and peeking out from the shed behind. The highlight for me yesterday, however, was the unexpected arrival of Class 59 No. 59004 Paul A Hammond, which was heading south, light engine. 

Talisman

Not for the first time, I sauntered along to Talisman Railwayana Auctions at the Newark Showground. Talisman RA is effectively the last man standing. Before 2020, all the dedicated railwayana auction houses held regular live sales, so a choice of locations and opportunities to attend came up every few weeks. Then Covid hit. To survive at all, the auctions went online and that is where most of them have stayed. Amongst the most prominent players, Talisman now stands alone, with live events remaining as their mainstay. For this, Roger and Sandra Phipps deserve great credit for their perseverance after difficult times and for recognising the importance of the theatre that the live auction provides. There is a slice of humanity in that hall that can’t be replicated online.

The pandemic appears to me to have had quite an effect on some of the other railwayana auction houses. Of course, they would all have benefited from the reduced overheads by not having to stage live events. My guess is that the clarity and visual appeal of the websites has become even more significant than it was before. This is the way that the world views them now. The online presence has got to be good. In the case of GW Railwayana Auctions, for example, it is excellent. Cover of what is on offer is comprehensive, auction result history readily accessible, overall presentation and navigation around the site first class.

For many years up until the pandemic, I met up with my friend, John, at a convenient rendezvous point that lay between us geographically. It gave us a chance for a general catch-up surrounded by the railway paraphernalia of our youth. John’s background is in art and design and we share an affection for many of the items of paperwork that reflect the prevalent styles of the inter-war and post-war periods. The implication of the changes mentioned above means that this is no longer an option for us, so for some time now I have been going along by myself. It’s not quite the same. Indeed, I often wonder why I’m here. I’m not really a true believer. I have a few railway hardware items at home but not enough to call a collection, nor do I really want one. I have acquired some paintings, posters and carriage prints over the years but rarely add to my haul these days. I have no more wall space in my office and so I can only reasonably replace what is already there. A degree of inertia has set in. Yet I still look through the Talisman catalogue when it drops on the mat and I pick out any personal highlights. The most appealing this time was displayed across the front cover. It was a painting by the well-regarded railway artist, John Austin. This painting of a Coronation Class locomotive at speed is very attractive. It communicates power and speed effectively, is technically very sound and is a great reminder of my favourite class of steam engine.

I made sure I was at the auction in time to see it go. I obtained a bidding card, even though I rarely bid for anything these days. I told Chris I might have a go at it if I can have it as my Christmas present, but I knew that to qualify for that it would have to be on offer at a bargain price of no more than £400 at the hammer, with premiums to add. I positioned myself with a clear view of the chair and the auctioneer started at £300. I gripped my card, poised, but hidden behind my catalogue. Bidding shot quickly to £500 and stopped there. I couldn’t justify it to myself to wade in at that point. There was no guarantee that a further bid would be any more than a token gesture and before I knew it we would have been at £600 and beyond. In that moment, time suddenly rushes by. It can be a weird experience, especially for us part-timers.

I know it sounds weak-kneed but that actually sums up my attitude to the whole thing. I have to feel I’ve got a bargain, so I inevitably price myself out of the running. So be it. I’ve never felt that I was totally on board with it. I’m neither in, nor out. I don’t know anyone else present, yet so many people seem to know each other well and the chairman seems to know half of the serious collectors by their first name. I’ve been going along for years and years yet I still feel like I’m an interloper, only peripherally part of the set-up, wafting around at the margins.

This is certainly a very distinctive sub-culture - very male, very white and very old. I suspect that it is composed almost entirely of a cohort of trainspotters who grew up in the 50s and 60s. They are boys who happened to share the same hobby and who just won’t let it go because it has come to characterise how they see themselves ever since. Kate Fox, the author of the book, Watching the English, would have a field day here.

I wonder if it’s really just all about permanence and impermanence. The stuff stays exactly the same but we grow old then leave it behind. Additionally, there is substantial knowledge and expertise on view here. There is also real friendship and fellowship encouraged by a common cause. Our railway heritage has been shattered into pieces and then reassembled in a jumble and out of context in this place, but the fragments are rightly being treasured all the same. It encompasses multitudes of designs from different but recognisable eras, innovative artwork of its time and vast quantities of skilled engineering and carpentry products. It represents decades (now nearly centuries, in fact) of development in craftsmanship, now all superseded by the digital age, modern materials and replacement fabrication techniques.

I’d had enough after about an hour and a half. I’d obviously had my fix. I’d toured the unchanging side stalls staffed by the same faces as before and found nothing that grabbed my attention. After lunch another copy of the New Brighton poster by Wilcox that I recently gave to my daughter and a Wallasey Grove Road station totem were coming up. Mine is of Wallasey Village. Surely this is from the same collection and belonged to a Wirralian, just like me? This is how a part of me will eventually be disseminated for the benefit of any takers, not that that matters. I will have had my enjoyment from them, too.

Covid changed the way this system operates but it’s still strong and has survived, as most of us have. We just move in slightly different ways, perhaps. When I approach anywhere that’s crowded, I may now reach for my mask. I used it last on a crowded rush-hour London tube last month and its always readily available in my jeans back pocket. In any environment, I now walk away from anyone that’s coughing or sneezing, and I still hold my breath when I’m close to an audible sniffler or a nose blower. Its not neurosis, its conditioning. Its what we did to try to get through it, and for those close to me it worked, as I had promised them that it would if we were careful.  

I will no doubt remain ambivalent about my participation in this rather obsessive world of railway memorabilia. Mostly, I don’t need to own it to admire it or for it to serve as a reminder of good times. There’s greater perspective there for me now, gained gradually by the passage of time. You really can’t take it with you. I’m more like to sell some of the bits I’ve already accumulated from now on, in order to afford that one special painting when it appears, especially if no-one else can see why its so good and I can get it for a bargain. Eyes still wide open and bidding card in hand.

 

Darlington

I’d been there before but I couldn’t remember anything about the place. It was a school railway society visit by train from Liverpool Lime Street on 21/12/63. With trips round the works and sheds, I copped an amazing 190 for the day. I have no photos and only one image in my mind’s eye from the whole experience. It was of A4 Class No. 60004 William Whitelaw with her connecting rods missing. I thought for ages that she was on her way to be torched, but, apparently, she was there for overhaul as she lasted until 1966 when she was one of the last batch of the class to be withdrawn. Also in the works were 3 Clans, which really were there for scrapping, plus one A1 and three A3s. On 51A, there were 2 A1s, 4 A3s and V2 No. 60809 The Snapper [etc]. The works, itself, closed a couple of years or so later in April 1966, so we were just in time, once again.

The revitalised railway museum at Darlington is called Hopetown, which is also the name of that district of the town. It’s recently been done out very nicely with clear signage and explanations of the exhibits as well as some very modern, interpretative and interactive features designed to attract all age groups. The early locomotive Derwent, built for the Stockton and Darlington Railway at Darlington in 1845, is still there as she was in 1963, as is NER No. 1463 of 1885 and a more recent addition in the form of the last English Electric Type 3 to be built there, No. D6898. The A1 Locomotive Society has its base in the purpose-built workshop on an adjacent site where A1 Class No. 60163 Tornado was assembled and which is now home to the new-build Class P2 2-8-2 No. 2007 Prince of Wales.

At the foot of the extensive car park opposite the entrance to Hopetown is the Grade I listed Skerne bridge, the oldest railway bridge in the world to have seen continuous use since its construction, as part of the Stockton and Darlington Railway, which opened in 1825 - something we are likely to hear a lot more about during 2025.  

 

Sunderland

Its difficult not to conclude that Sunderland currently gets a bad press. As if to confirm a suspicion, on the day of our visit regional TV was talking about the city having the highest reported rates of domestic abuse in the country. Employment and social problems go hand in hand, so its really no surprise that like many urban areas that made their wealth in times past, the present is visibly so much more of a struggle. Their raison d’etre has often long since evaporated.

Sunderland was of great interest to me. Chris’s great grandfather, Hugh Robert Jones, captained ships that were built here in the nineteenth century. In the case of the Province, Captain Jones made the journey from Liverpool in advance of construction to advise the builders, Doxford’s, just upstream at Pallion, about exactly what his employers required. The Province was a four-masted, iron-built ship of 1,800 tons. She was launched in 1886 and named by Hugh’s wife [and Chris’s great grandmother], Mrs Jane Jones [formerly Williams].

Our visit was primarily to Sunderland Maritime Heritage, run by a group of enthusiastic volunteers to collect and collate objects and documents that tell the story of Sunderland’s glorious and influential ship-building past. Located in the east end of the city and up the hill above the mouth of the River Wear, the building is not quite what you might expect. It occupies a considerable space inside a modern industrial unit and from the outside resembles a giant lock-up garage. Inside, however, it’s a hive of activity as skilled carpenters employ their skills in harness with a range of modern machinery, on all sorts of commissions that provide funds for the advancement of their collection.

We were shown round by Ian Murray, one of the trustees of the enterprise. We could not have had a better guide and I’m very grateful to Ian for giving his time so readily, even delegating to a colleague when someone came to discuss replacement carpets, following an unfortunate leak to the roof in the upstairs library and archive, just so that he could complete our tour for us. I left a copy of Seafarer Jones for their library, with the Jones connection explained and with thanks to Chris’s brother, David, who did the spade work on his family history, which I had then subsequently made use of.

We wandered back into the centre through modern replacement housing estates and then through some elegant and stately inner urban, stone-built terraces, where the successful entrepreneurs had lived, when the town was at the forefront of the industrial revolution, making use of the coal and iron that was on its doorstep, exporting its goods and building a new breed of ships in which to do so. George and Robert Stephenson came from round here and a number of early railways bringing coal down to the coast preceded even the Stockton and Darlington Railway.

We found a very presentable and welcoming café for lunch, where a large pizza and salad was advertised at pre-Covid prices at £6.00. Sunderland has obviously been hit hard by post-industrial trauma, but there is a lot of work going on in the centre to give it a facelift and some greater self-belief. The modern station of steel and glass with its a spacious entrance hall is a statement of intent, even though the platforms are sub-terranean and rather gloomy by comparison. I came away feeling that I really wanted Sunderland to find its way again before long. The people we met somehow deserve better. Just as long as that doesn’t involve recalling Jordan Pickford from Everton any time soon. 

 

     

The Mining Art Gallery

Opened in 2017 in the centre of Bishop Auckland, the gallery brings together the paintings of the Durham and Northumberland coal miners, including Ted Holloway and Tom McGuiness. The Most arresting work for me, however, is that by Norman Cornish. Like Lowry, this is appealing twentieth century street art. It tells the tale of community and togetherness fused by harsh working conditions in the shadow of the ever-present danger down the pit. The warmth and mutual reassurance of the local pub, the queue at the bus stop and for the chip van is conveyed, as the often hunched, bow-legged and round-shouldered figures are often physically very close to each other. Heads down, they communicate the drudgery and a degree of foreboding on the journey to work along the pit road. These paintings are as evocative of a particular way of life as anything else I’ve come across. It is affectionate and compelling art.

Because railways and coal mines were inextricably linked, examples of Norman Cornish’s work include the tracks, trucks and industrial tank engines that fussed about in the yards, making up the trains that the bigger beasts would then take off to the power stations and industrial towns. An ex-coal miner and former colleague once told me how much “the auld fellas” who drove these locomotives enjoyed their jobs, relieved, no doubt, not to have to go down the pit themselves.

In addition to the gallery in Bishop Auckland, we discovered further examples of the work of Norman Cornish, including Miners on Pit Road, at an exhibition at Bowes Museum entitled Kith and Kinship. The exhibition was certainly very well attended when we were there. It also features work by LS Lowry and is on until 19^th January 2025. The award-winning café at Bowes Museum was the icing on the cake [had it not been lunchtime]. 

Durham

Approaching Durham by train from the south is always an uplifting experience. As the train slows as it crosses the viaduct. The view is down towards the River Wear and across to the magnificent cathedral perched on the other side. Approached from the city centre on foot, the railway and its station appear to cling to a shelf, set above a series of staircases and steep walkways. The station, itself, has as a spacious feel thanks to wider than average platform widths and attractive glass canopies. The current station booking office and the main entrance on the up side of the line date from 1871. The station was renovated in its entirety in 2008, winning the best overall station of the year award. We took the 10.17 CrossCountry unit to Edinburgh from the down platform, which is connected to the entrance by an underpass, for the twelve minutes journey to Newcastle.  

“I’m in St Ives”

OK, so I was in St Ives when I wrote that but I finished it at home. “So what?” you may well ask. I was back in St Ives again, having recently read an article in the Guardian about the town by Tanya Gold (10/8/24). She had conducted a series of interviews with local inhabitants, including a former resident who had fallen on hard times and now lives in a van, the local food bank organiser, a fisherman in a shrinking business and a local artist who was campaigning against second home ownership. The message was the same. Tourism is bad for St Ives. 

St Ives faces the same problems as other peripheral coastal resorts – poor accessibility, seasonal employment patterns and a consequent high unemployment rate in winter, exorbitant house prices, local people being priced out of the housing market altogether, and that ghost town atmosphere out of the holiday season, where shops, cafes, second homes and holiday lets are often just empty shells.

So, why pick on St Ives, particularly? The gist of the article was that St Ives is a worst-case scenario. This could well be true. For all sorts of reasons, St Ives is possibly the most beautiful of all British seaside resorts. That’s why we go there and have been doing so since 1969. St Ives was already under a bit of pressure then. We parked up the hill, somewhere close to where the leisure centre is now and walked down into the old town centre. When we took our young family there in 1986, we had to make do with two basement rooms in a Victorian terrace that stank of damp and mould. I felt sick that I’d committed us all to this for a whole week, but it was before the internet and the accountability that has accompanied modern online accommodation provision. In short, they would not be able to get away with that today because it would be denounced as totally unsuitable in a very public way.

Should I feel guilty taking an expensive holiday let here in St Ives? I’m in favour of national and local government intervention to curb all sorts of excesses that are caused by capitalism and which magnify inequality when left to their own devices. Should I stay at home and never visit anywhere on the grounds that unessential journeys are harming the planet? I would find that difficult as there’s a wonderful world out there just waiting to be discovered. We were finding out that for ourselves in the 1960s when we first happened upon St Ives. Should I go by train? I’d like to but its considerably more expensive than coming by car and I know where the side streets are where I can still park for nothing.    

Perhaps I should feel apologetic about keeping on coming back, but I just can’t help myself. Maybe it’s just my acutely developed love of place. I hope that St Ives can continue to squeeze me in from time to time. I should probably try it out of the Easter to October half-term season so that I can better understand the problems it faces. I bet it's still beautiful, though.

   

A pit-stop at Okehampton

 

If you want a station that represents best practice in refurbishment and renewal then Okehampton must be right up there. Instead of shooting past the town when heading west on the improved A30, take time out, instead, to visit this ancient market town and its splendid railway station at the top of the hill. An hour’s free parking in the station yard gives ample time to take a snack in the well-stocked café, which has an imaginative and tempting menu with a number of hot food and vegetarian options. Even if its only for a toilet stop, you’ll find a moments peace surrounded by original tiling, plumbing and woodwork that offers quite a contrast with hectic motorway services.  

Today the award-winning station, which is immaculately turned out in Southern Region green and cream, is enthusiastically supported by a number of local community groups, including Okerail and the Dartmoor Railway Association. There is a museum, a book shop and the old goods shed opposite is a youth hostel. The only current blemish is the footbridge over to platforms one and two. It had its roof whipped off in gales early in 2024 and is now closed off and awaiting attention.  

That the station is now such an attraction is largely due to the reinstatement of passenger services to Exeter. First opened in 1871, passenger trains lasted until closure by British Rail in 1972. Part of the former London and South Western Railway main line from Exeter to Plymouth that skirted round the top end of Dartmoor then survived to take out stone traffic from BR’s Meldon quarry immediately to the west of Okehampton, but this link closed in 2011. A groundswell of opinion in favour of reopening the previously freight only section between the link with the existing Barnstaple to Exeter line and Okehampton was supported by Devon County Council. Occasional heritage services then operated between 1997 and 2019.

National Rail took over in 2021 to provide a regular passenger service once again on what had become known as the Dartmoor Line. Two-car GWR Class 150 DMUs now operate an hourly service to the city and are clearly being well used both by local people, fell walkers and other tourists. Sustrans National cycle route 27 passes the station and a dedicated bus service connects the station to the town centre and to Tavistock. There is now considerable interest in the possibility of re-establishing the railway link with Bere Alston to re-instate an alternative route to Plymouth. During 2024, plans were already underway to construct a new station to the east of the town to be known as Okehampton Parkway and serving A30 users and local commuters living in the surrounding rural areas more directly.

       

Back at the SVR

I shot round the M6 toll road on Saturday morning, full of anticipation for our latest lads’ day out on the trains. We met up at Bridgnorth station for another go on the wonderful SVR. Such a lovely valley to wend one’s way down in a heritage DMU, after the first cup of tea of the day. It’s now 64 years since we got our act together, coalescing around a shared neighbourhood, park football and the school railway society. Our twice-yearly reunions include a statutory railway backdrop - a familiar, scenic environment in which to update, to reminisce and to plan for more. Mostly, though, it is to reinforce friendships that have stood the test of time and that still offer continuity and reassurance in a continually changing and increasingly challenging world. And we were doing so well until VAR denied Beto his equalizer, and with that a precious away point for Everton vapourised, too. From ecstasy to dejection in a matter of seconds. Which just goes to show that although you can’t have everything you wish for, it’s just as important not to lose sight of the things that really matter. EFC will bounce back again. They always have, I muttered to myself, as I succumbed to a longer ride home than I’d expected, as I tried to extricate myself from the vortex that is inner Wolverhampton and then queued with the rest of the traffic on the southbound M6. Just like the marginal offside, motorway congestion is a small price to pay when compared to the camaraderie of true friendship.

        

Change here for Loo

The toilets on Platform 1 at London Paddington have been decorated with large scale photographic images of railway scenes past and present. Though taking photos in a public loo is fraught with potential hazards, Chris braved the ladies to capture the Flying Scotsman across 3 cubicle doors, even though the image had inexplicably become reversed during the mounting process. Meanwhile, next door in the gents, a GWR Hitachi Intercity Express Train bi-modal unit is hopefully the only thing being splashed across the wall above the urinals. [mikepriestleysrailwayheritagebogspot.com] 

Port Sunlight

I couldn’t really account for the fact that I’d never had a good look round Port Sunlight before now, but there you are, we were here at last. It is, of course, renowned in some quarters as the model garden village constructed for the factory workers in his soap manufacturing business by William Hesketh Lever and begun in 1888. At the heart of the estate today is the classically-styled Lady Lever Art Gallery with its collection of pre-Raphaelite paintings. The museum opposite tells the story of the settlement, though this was unfortunately closed on the day that we visited. The Lever Brothers building, itself, has an impressive stone façade from 1895, and nearby is the Gladstone Theatre of 1891, opened by Prime Minister, William Ewart Gladstone, firstly as a dining hall.

Of interest, too, is the station, which has a cottage-style exterior in keeping with its surroundings. The station is on the ex-LNWR/GWR Joint line from Birkenhead, a route we travelled along on trainspotting forays to Chester, Crewe and Shrewsbury. We must have sped through Port Sunlight on the Paddington expresses many a time, without giving it so much as a second glance. This section is now part of the electrified Merseyrail network that connects Chester to the Wirral and Liverpool. It is operated by four-car Class 777 third rail EMUs.  

Peak Rail Heritage Open Day

A tour round the sheds at 17C Rowsley was a first or me, never having reached here in the days of steam. The opportunity for a “behind the scenes” guided walk was provided as part of the nationwide September 2024 heritage days, whereby such sites open their doors to visitors at no cost. As the website puts it, “Heritage Open Days is England's largest community led festival of history and culture, involving thousands of local volunteers and organisations. Every year in September it brings people together to celebrate their heritage, community and history. Stories are told, traditions explored, and histories brought to life. It’s your chance to see hidden places and try out new experiences – and it’s all FREE.” On duty at Rowsley South was the former Kent Electricity Board’s 0-4-0 saddle tank No. 2, Bagnall No. 2842, from the Chasewater Railway, at the head of the 4-coach train to Matlock. The sheds and yard contained a mix of steam and diesel locos in various stages of repair, in addition to the current operational fleet .

   

Totnes Riverside to Buckfastleigh

We took a trip up the valley on the South Devon Railway behind the ex-GWR 0-6-0 panier tank No. 6412. The journey is through a tranquil sylvan landscape with shafts of sunlight intermittently piercing the canopy of trees on the river bank. The peace is only broken by the steady beat and exhaust from the locomotive as it pulls its string of Mark 1 coaches up the slope at a suitably sedate pace. This is attractive rural England at its best. The branch line is so typical of its type, serving occasional country towns and connecting them to the nearest main line. When we first came here, trains ran in to the main line station, but the potential bottleneck on the up track at the rail bridge over the Dart immediately to the east meant Riverside became the necessary start point for the heritage line, so that workings did not encroach on main line operations. That’s fine, as it’s only a short walk between the two, and the replacement terminus is itself a delightfully re-constructed period piece. Near Staverton, we passed 4500 Class 2-6-2 tank No. 5526 on a freight working that included brake van experience opportunities.

    

Mayflower viewed from Dartmouth

B1 Class No. 61306 Mayflower visited Kingswear on Saturday 17^th August, heading a special train from Bournemouth. Viewed from across the Dart estuary on the promenade at Dartmouth, the aperitif was provided by Manor Class No. 7827 Cookham Manor.