Taking the breakfast train

We were at the Churnet Valley Railway in Staffordshire yesterday for our first lads’ train day on the heritage line. It was also the first time we had experienced a meal together in the dining car. This took the form of a cooked breakfast and Staffordshire oat cake combo that certainly did the job. The CRV has got it right in terms of the visitor experience. Plentiful, attentive and cheery staff served us well throughout the day. The day rover ticket allowed a second trip during the afternoon. We relaxed in our own compartment further up the train, while the hefty American 2-8-0 No. 6046 made light work of the gradients at the top end of the line. To top off the day, we all enjoyed a splendid Indian curry, once we’d found the lively Black Lion pub, hidden away above the main A520 road near Cheddleton to the south of Leek. 

   

Making Music at Toton

Last time I went to Toton bank I didn’t see anything new. This time, I thought I’d give mid-week a go instead of the previous weekend trips, which proved to be a good move. I’d not seen any Class 92s at Toton before, but here was 92011 sticking its head out of the depot and mostly hidden by other locos. Turns out it is called Handel. Two days later we are at the Minster in Southwell for a midweek concert performed by musicians from the Minster School. Second up is “Where e’re you walk” by Handel, unerringly and movingly sung by one of the youngsters. I have a soft spot for Handel [though certainly not all of it]. Every Christmas, I play sections from the Messiah that particularly appeal to me, including “He shall feed his flock” and “I know that my redeemer liveth”. In all 3 cases, it strikes me that Handel must have been a genius, writing such beautiful, melodic songs 300 years before Paul McCartney. It just seems like its such modern music to me. I know little about classical music [as by now you may have already decided] but I’m not aware of anything remotely as interesting coming before Handel, and yet to say that these songs strike a chord is a massive understatement for me. He must surely have recast the mould. On Wednesday, it carried all the way to the bank overlooking Toton MPD. I also copped 3 sheds.

         

Penistone Coal Drops

This Grade II listed site in the centre of Penistone is earmarked for redevelopment by a local company, who want to create offices, retail and hospitality outlets on derelict former sidings, alongside the old track bed of the Woodhead trans-Pennine route, which crossed the main road into the town centre on a bridge which still stands at this point. Protected from removal since 1988, the redeveloped site will incorporate the arches of the stone-built coal drops as well as the surviving nearby building that is described as the signal house.

Doncaster, for the first train day of the year

 

It was a bright sunny day for a return to Doncaster. My train from Retford and heading for York was delayed because “a train has hit an obstacle on the line”, we were informed, but only by 17 minutes, so presumably not too big an obstacle. This is still a Class 91 powered diagram, it seems. Locomotive hauled freights were actually few and far between, hardly surprising given the intensity of the passenger train traffic on the ECML and cross-country routes. 

  

Cross Lane Crossing

On the edge of Collingham, a village east of the Trent and north of Newark, is Cross Lane. It connects two main roads going eastwards from the village centre – Swinderby Road and Potterhill Road. As in so much of the lower and flatter bits of Eastern England, the railway crosses the roads around here at a series of level crossings as there are few bridges. In times past, these tended to be gated crossings with cottages alongside, where the crossing keeper lived. Their job was to open and close the gates manually and as required. Where road traffic was dominant, the gates were only closed to vehicles when a train was due to pass. Where road traffic was sparse, or virtually non-existent, the gates would only be opened on demand for occasional road users, like farmers’ tractors, etc. Drivers would summon attention from the crossing keeper by ringing a bell outside their property. Today, modern crossings are operated remotely. Warning lights show and then automatic barriers are lowered over the road when a train is approaching. The crossing keepers’ cottages are consequently defunct and most have been sold off to private occupiers. Apparently, in this particular case there are plans afoot to actually divert Cross Lane itself, so that it no longer crosses the railway at this point, but joins Swinderby Road further away from the village, thus removing the need for the Cross Lane crossing at all in the future. 

 

 

GCR Steam Winter Gala 2025

They put on a good gala weekend on the GCR. Double track helps a lot, of course, as it allows a very intensive timetable to be followed, but so does careful planning, including guest locos from other heritage railways. I was particularly pleased to see the new-build Grange Class No. 6880 Betton Grange making her first visit to the line.

  

Entente Cordiale

An attractive postcard arrived from France. It shows an old South Eastern and Chatham Railway poster advertising the attractions of the spa town of Enghien-les-Bains in the northern suburbs of Paris. Christmas and New Year messages have been exchanged with the sender every year for well over half a century, since Chris, with her friend, Sue, went youth hostelling and hitch-hiking together in the Lake District. A Citroen 2CV pulled up at the roadside and Andre and Erol, young medical students from the French capital, offered them a lift. Dinner at a restaurant in Keswick soon followed. The girls had even packed their home-made evening dresses in their rucksacks for any such eventualities. On their way down south after their Lakes adventure, the lads stayed at Chris’s dad’s family run hotel in New Brighton, where they became quite attached to the full English breakfast. When we got married in 1972, we spent part of our honeymoon at Erol’s parents’ apartment in Paris. Later on, and by then with our children, we were welcomed to Andre and Nicole’s home in Montmorency, where we met their own young family. We were then given a tour around the sights of Paris. Although we have kept in touch, we haven’t met up for many years - but that could still change.

It’s a heart-warming story - reaching out across borders, overcoming language differences and an appreciation of acts of kindness. It helps recall the eagerness and optimism of youth and all those similar journeys of exploration made in the company of friends. Historic Anglo-French rivalry, jingoistic newspaper headlines and the fuss over Brexit pale when compared to the value of maintaining such contacts, bringing with them comforting memories of significant moments from the past. 

Liverpool Exchange

I have clear memories of steam in Liverpool Exchange, in particular, Clan Buchanan heading a Glasgow express and the rebuilt Patriot, Bunsen, at the platform blocks. The adjacent hotel is where Chris’s mum and dad stayed for their post-war honeymoon. The old L&YR terminus closed in 1977 and its remaining suburban electric services were transferred to the new Moorfields underground station nearby. Demolition took place the following year, though someone had the foresight to retain the frontage of the old station and hotel and incorporate it into the offices that replaced the former entrance and concourse. It still looks splendid today, even when you are trying to get run over by taking a picture while standing in the middle of the road.

Todmorden, a tad disappointing

I had wanted to visit Todmorden for ages. I’d read about the Platform One Art Gallery on the station, an interesting location surrounded by the Lancashire hills, a railway viaduct marching across the old stone-built town centre and an increasingly youthful and arty reputation, not unlike that further downstream at Hebden Bridge. After walking the river bank alongside the Calder in the morning, starting off across frozen ground in temperatures of around minus three from the impressive Elizabethan house at Gawthorpe Hall, and noting dipper, heron, goosander and goldeneye along the way, we headed for Todmorden in the car down Upper Calderdale.

Plan A. Heading straight for the station, the art gallery door was locked. The notice outside said it should have been open but it wasn’t. The windows were misted up and possibly frozen up, too. The guy in the booking office said he “hadn’t seen anyone around” but made it clear it was nothing to do with Northern Rail, anyway. The station was busy enough and Class 195 DMUs set off in both directions, east towards Leeds and west for Chester, while we stood around getting cold.

Plan B. We sought sanctuary in the nearest coffee bar, which turned out to be just fine – warm and welcoming. We outlined the rest of our day, deciding on a quick walk round the town centre and then off to Hebden Bridge in time for lunch at the renowned railway station café. By that time, I’d checked online to see if there was an explanation as to why the station art gallery had been closed. There wasn’t, but it prompted us to check out our next move, too. Just as well we did. Hebden station café would not open until Monday, though it, too, had been expected to serve hot food on Saturdays until 2.00.  

Plan C. Instead, we would take a walk around Todmorden and stay for lunch. A bit of advance planning had shown there were a number of eateries to choose from, which was confirmed on a quick visit to the tourist information centre. We decided to head back to the café next to the one we’d been to before which occupies the old CWS premises, as indicated by an attractive blue enamel sign above the entrance. It was busy, but we found a table for four upstairs. Then we were informed that as there was already a forty-minute wait for hot food that was going to be it for the day. Presumably that was so that the kitchen staff would not have to work past their normal signing off time.

Plan D. We trundled back to the coffee shop next door. Snacks were in the form of pre-prepared, filled rolls in a glass cabinet, so once they were gone, they were gone. They were gone. We enquired about possible alternative venues. We were informed that the obvious place that came to mind had had a fire the night before so it was not open today. We were running short of options.

Plan E. An out-of-town pub at the top of a nearby hill was mentioned and we thought we’d walk back to the cars and see if there were any intervening opportunities along the main road back to the car park before heading along there. The first café we passed appeared to only have seating outside under a plastic tent affair, which might have been OK if it had been 15 degrees warmer. A little further on, there was one more possibility. We enquired about whether they were still serving hot food. “Not really” was the reply. Well, it was after 2.30 at this point, with the light already beginning to fade, the temperature dropping again and the park that led back to the car parking area a treacherous, uneven icy surface. At this point, we lost the will to eat, gave up and headed for home. We stopped at Morrisons for a meal deal, enjoyed at the wheel in the car park, but not before we’d been diverted via Rochdale to join the M62. The main road to Halifax had been closed, for reasons unknown, adding up to another hour to our journey time. Our visit to Todmorden had just fizzled out in consistently unspectacular fashion.      

Where did we go wrong? Avoid winter. It can be very cold and that can be consequential. Check ahead at every stage - by phone rather than depending on the most recent online post, which might not be all that recent. All our fault, then? Todmorden’s reputation as a laid-back, good-life sort of place might mean its also a bit of an anything goes, half-hearted, not-too-fussed sort of place, too. I’ve been struck by the lukewarm attitude to catering and services that is often noticeable when travelling in Britain. As a nation, we obviously lack drive and a bit of umph, when compared to meeting similar expectations, in the States for example. Our version of the all-day breakfast can mean as long as you’re there before two in the afternoon, if you’re lucky. It’s no wonder to me that we languish around at the foot of the economic productivity charts. We are so easy-going as a people (which I also believe has its advantages, but that’s another story). But when you feel you are on the receiving end of some unenthusiastic, can’t be arsed responses one after the other during the same afternoon, it’s a tad disappointing, to say the least. In fact, I can’t even be bothered to write about it anymore. 

     

Maghull

I had read about Maghull station and then heard good things about it from friends. The main attraction is the Coffee Carriage café. It was excellent and not surprisingly was being well-used, even on a freezing cold day in January. I suspect that most folk there were not taking the train, either, but had discovered, as we had, that it provided very good food at a reasonable price.

Maghull was on the old Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway’s main line between Liverpool Exchange and Preston, though since relegated to the frequent Merseyrail suburban services to Ormskirk, currently operated by the recently introduced Class 777 EMUs.

There is more to the station than that, however. Maghull was voted Britain’s best railway station in 2024, a testimony not just to the café but to the work of Community Rail Lancashire, Maghull Volunteers and Merseyrail, itself. A bulging glass cabinet in the small station entrance is packed with framed certificates representing its previous competitive triumphs. There are murals and planters, as well as a platform display board dedicated to Frank Hornby, the creator of Hornby model trains, Dinky Toys and Meccano, their factory having moved from Binns Road in Liverpool to Aintree, just down the line from Maghull. Frank Hornby, himself, had lived near to the station at Maghull.