Wide Angle View in Liverpool

Tate Liverpool is currently closed for renovation and has temporarily moved across the dock to RIBA [the Royal Institute of British Architects] North at Mann Island. The photo exhibition, Wide Angle View, is well worth a visit, nevertheless. It’s based on the nine pamphlets that made up the Manplan series, dating from 1969/70, which investigated the relationship between modern architecture for residential areas and the impact it was having on social spaces for the people who lived there. 

Those of us who have lived through the upheavals in our inner cities that followed the post-war years in the 1960s, remember only too well the impact those changes had on our urban landscapes. I suppose that my overall conclusion would be that much that was of value was removed, that much that replaced it was second-rate from a number of perspectives and that the inhabitants were not always prioritised in the way that they should have been. Awards for modern architects flowed, but in many cases, their flawed schemes simply left problems for those who followed them to address.

The work of a series of urban street photographers from the time shows how bleak and depressing these grey, concrete urban landscapes sometimes became, while many communities were decimated, relocated and continued to struggle. The work that stood out for me was by Ian Berry. Much travelled, he made his reputation in South Africa recording politics and social strife, later moving to London where he photographed city life, including a number of railway-related scenes, like the overcrowded commuter train pictured here. Sadly, Ian Berry died just last Sunday, aged 92. I’m pleased to have caught up with this fraction of his work at such a poignant moment. 

 

A Man Down at Llangollen

We were one short yesterday on the Llangollen and Corwen Railway. They were, quite rightly, busy celebrating their 50^th anniversary as a heritage railway, but, initially, at least, we had another priority. Some of Andy’s ashes were to be disposed of appropriately on the railway. It was his favourite line and he had visited it many times during his lifetime, which subsequently coincided with the fifty years of the re-born L&CR. It seemed like a good fit, therefore, to be celebrating our good friend Andy’s life on the same day.

John arranged a footplate moment for us all, even clearing it beforehand with the managing director, but also with faultless and considerate co-operation from the footplate crew of ex-GWR 2-8-0 No 3802, for which we were very grateful, as we effectively interrupted them in their duties. Andy’s ashes were duly delivered to the firebox on the fireman’s shovel. In retrospect, I can’t think that he would have preferred it any other way. That concluded, we were not just a man down for the rest of the day, but for the rest of our lives, too.

Andy certainly added something to our twice-yearly, lads’ days out on the trains, generously dispensing his extra-large packets of peanuts and plentiful supplies of Tunnock’s caramel wafers. Deliberate and emphatic pronouncements, usually issued in a way that was not exactly expecting a response from anyone else, were interspersed with examples of quirky good humour, sparingly used, but always lurking there and waiting for the right opportunity to further lighten the day.

Andy brought us here to Llangollen after the railway had been closed by BR in the mid-60s and before it reopened fifty years ago this weekend. He drove us all round this part of North Wales in his parents’ Hillman Minx. We found our way up to Brymbo, when the tracks to the steel works were still down and being used, as well as to the old lead mine site at Minera and a pub near World’s End, that I can’t find a trace of today during a brief search.

Andy was right about the L&CR, too, because it is special. The Dee-side setting is as picturesque a route as any offered by the other heritage lines. Temporarily hampered by financial woes that threatened its continued existence, the railway has bounced back magnificently in more recent times. They get their PR spot on. They are most welcoming and accommodating at every turn, and their online presence provides a lesson to other comparable set-ups in how to relate positively to their potential customers.

We took the slow train from Carrog to Corwen and completed the round trip to Llangollen and back behind No. 3802 before a leisurely lunch at the Grouse Inn. Fitting in another there and back trip to Llangollen in the afternoon for tea and cake, having persuaded the café on the terminus platform to stay open just a little longer while we cleared them out of “school cake”, we were rewarded with some very spirited running from the ex-GWR panier tank No. 7754 up the hill and back to Carrog in the non-corridor suburban stock. We finally went our separate ways after another rewarding day in each other’s company. We shall remember Andy by just carrying on carrying on. Life is short and nothing lasts for ever. It’s important to have things to look forward to and things to look back on, as well as enjoying the moment on the day. We’ve packed a lot into the sixty-six years since our friendship group began to take form and we’ve far from finished yet. Andy would expect nothing less from us. 

   

Norman Cornish

Entitled A Life in Sketchbooks, this exhibition at the Bowes Museum runs until 3^rd January 2027. It follows on from another exhibition of his work, Kith and Kinship, which also included works by LS Lowry, at the same location two years ago. Based on the 269 sketch books he used while out on the streets during his lifetime, it is a fascinating insight into the industrial north east of England before de-industrialisation so radically altered the urban landscape for ever.

Born in Spennymoor in 1919, Norman Cornish worked as a coal miner from the age of fourteen, whilst simultaneously developing his distinctive artistic style, with which he recorded the community he grew up in. His work is very evocative; stressing characterful personalities and their inter-relationships, communicating a jostling, physical mutual support and that feeling of camaraderie and intimacy that so typifies the former mining areas. He also paints the urban landscape itself, which already seems to be a world away, even to those of us who can remember it well, as we looked on from the outside.

I’m somewhat ambivalent about Bowes Museum, itself, which we have visited a number of times. On the one hand, I really like their smaller gallery temporary exhibitions like this one on Norman Cornish. They are clearly laid out, clearly explained, thoughtfully lit and manageable in terms of available time. The café, too, is way, way above average. I find the whole presence of the place so cavernous and overbearing, though, and the large hall which is full of classical paintings from head to foot - and it’s a very tall room, seems to me to be just not the way to show off works of art, assuming, of course, that they are worth showing off in the first place. Nevertheless, I’ll keep a look out for future exhibitions. Its not far off the A66, which seems to have become a very familiar route to the hills for us over the years.

   

The Eden Valley Railway

 

You can see the lines of carriages from the A66, as we have done a number of times as we have whizzed past on our way to the Lake District, on days the EVR has not been open. Last week they were running trains on the Monday, in the form of their ancient-looking but in fact 1957-built, BR Southern Region Class 205 Thumper unit DEMU No. 205009, so we took the opportunity for a look round. The staff were welcoming and the usual facilities were available, but it was still rather quiet for a pleasant day in the school summer holiday.

The original railway was also part of the trans-Pennine Stainmore route from Tebay and Penrith to Darlington. This particular resurrection has not got very far out of Warcop station on its way to eventually re-establishing the line as far as Appleby, but the signalbox still stands on the platform and is open to visitors and there is plenty of stock to inspect in the sidings including a Class 47 and a number of diesel shunters. The return trip to the current terminus at Southfield is 2.2 miles away.

Some of these ventures obviously struggle more than others. I guess that’s down to acquiring the numbers of volunteers with the right skills, made more difficult if your location is relatively remote and you are not in a tourist area. The EVR seems to be more on the way to places rather than an obvious attraction in its own right. There are clearly some very dedicated individuals involved in all these projects, but I do wonder how dispiriting it might be to see rather piecemeal progress being made as time inevitably ticks by.

The heritage railways can be very different from each other in terms of the visible progress they have made over the decades. This reflects their location and proximity to potential customers as much as anything else, though a multitude of factors are actually involved. It can also be affected by the existence of, or the potential for, a direct link to the national rail system. Some have made enormous strides in living memory and others not so much. They all rely heavily on volunteer labour, too, of course, which may or may not always be either available or forthcoming.

Where there is a tangible goal in sight, like the re-uniting of two formerly linked stretches of line or the reopening of a junction station on the main line, I can see why there might be that added determination to make things happen. It may also help with fund raising, as the concern can sell an idea that people can more easily identify with and one which can become a reality within a relatively short time.

All the heritage railways seem to have significant numbers of stalwart figures amongst their ranks, who give limitless amounts of their time, perhaps without even a thought about the end game. I have enormous admiration for these unsung heroes of the preservation movement. Without them, we would not have the recognisable and successful railway heritage movement that so many of us value and cherish.

Threlkeld Quarry and Mining Museum

It was at the platform on Threlkeld station in the summer of 1962, that I climbed down from the footplate of the Ivatt Class 2 after what is still one of the most exciting events of my life. The driver had summoned me up front at the first stop after leaving Penrith and I sat on his seat while the loco bucked and shook its way towards Keswick. Totally exhilarated by my experience, I dismounted at Threlkeld in case there were any inspectors around at our destination, as was explained to me at the time. It was the start of our family summer holiday but nothing that happened during the rest of the week could match it, though bunking round Carlisle Canal and Kingmoor sheds probably came quite close, come to think of it.

Threlkeld has changed quite a bit since then. The line has closed and the station is no more. Up the hill a bit, though, the granite quarrying operation that was still open in the 60s has left plenty of reminders behind in the form of a mining museum served by a steam-run, two-foot gauge heritage railway which is very much open for tourists, in spite of being perhaps a little off the normal beaten track within Lakeland. The original nineteenth century quarry was not rail connected but after reopening in 1949 a line was laid from the quarry sites down to the “main line” at Threlkeld, where there was also a concrete factory. Granite was excavated for railway ballast and road building, too. When the enterprise closed for the second time in the 1980s, much of the site was still occupied by abandoned machinery and most of the old buildings still stood. It then opened again, this time as a playground for those who want to spend their leisure time operating diggers and excavators, for which this was obviously the ideal location. They still come for the weekend twice a year to pursue their hobby in this most realistic of settings.

The railway operates one steam locomotive, in addition to the diesels. The 0-4-0 saddle tank, Sir Tom, named after Sir Tom Callender of British Insulated Callender Cables, was built in 1926 by Bagnall of Stafford. It formerly worked at BICC’s Kent factory site. It takes the selection of open and covered carriages up the half-mile of track - including one steep section at a 1 in 20 gradient - to the top quarry. There are plans underway to extend the railway in the near future.  

The mining museum is very good. They have a wealth of rock specimens showing the different uses made of the granite, as well as geological maps and diagrams explaining the Lake District’s rich history when it comes to deep level mine working for a wide range of minerals, including in the village of Threlkeld itself. From here they burrowed deep under Saddleback, the mountain that looms over the valley to the north. Extra funding has been acquired for a new museum centre nearer the entrance to the site, which is now well under way close to the old Threlkeld station platform and the track bed of the Cockermouth, Keswick and Penrith Railway that I had the great pleasure of travelling on a number of times during the summers of 1960 and 1962. 

   

Lakeside and Haverthwaite Railway

It’s been a long time since we travelled on this one. In the intervening half a century, or so, the L&HR appears to have just carried on doing its own thing and doing it very nicely. Its own thing is taking full advantage of its Lake District location and selling itself very effectively as a tourist railway. Proximity to the honey-pot sites at Windermere and Bowness helps in this respect and the link with the lake ferries is a key component. Foreign visitors and coach parties are very much part of the formula.

The same three British Railways survivors from the age of steam are still here but although the Ivatt Class 2 was resplendent in the yard, she too was receiving attention, whilst the two unique Fairburn tanks were both out of action in the sheds. It was left to the Hunslet WD industrial No. 25 Sapper, lined out in an attractive Kent and East Sussex Railway livery to provide passenger services on the day.

The short journey up the side of the River Leven passes the important industrial heritage site at Backbarrow, where remaining evidence of eighteenth-century iron making is gradually being appropriately preserved. The hotel we stayed in there was once a factory making the blue dye used in soap powders. I came here by coach as part of a six-form field course based near Carlisle in 1966, and remember our geography teacher, Brian Gordon, pointing out that the windows of the factory were all stained blue as a result of the no-doubt rather uncomfortable working practices taking place inside.

The Stainmore Railway

We called in to Kirkby Stephen East station on our way to the Lake District. The Stainmore route was a coast-to-coast railway that crossed the Pennine moorlands, joining Darlington on the East Coast Main Line in the east to Penrith and Tebay on the West Coast Main Line in the west. The line was opened by the South Durham and Lancashire Union Railway in 1861, primarily to carry coal and iron ore. The mountain route involved the construction of a series of bridges and viaducts. The line closed as a through route in 1962.

The Stainmore Railway Company was set up in 2000 as a heritage centre based on the station site at Kirkby Stephen, which has since been restored. Trains operate on a short section of reinstated track heading west. On the day we visited, two beautifully restored ex-LNER Gresley teak carriages were sandwiched between two top-and-tail diesels for the brief round trip along the line. As with so many of the heritage lines during this hot summer, the usual steam power was not operating because of the risk of lineside fires. Part of the track bed to the east of the station has become a multi-use recreational path, which heads off up the Eden valley and into the hills where some of the remaining viaducts can still be seen.

Princes Risborough station

Chiltern Railways run all passenger services out of Princes Risborough, namely north east to Aylesbury from the bay platform one, north to Banbury, Oxford and Birmingham from platform three and south to London Marylebone on platform two. A central fast line to London allows expresses not stopping here a clear run through the station. This junction station also had branches to Watlington and Thame that closed decades ago, before the Chinnor heritage line was re-established from platform four. The site also boasts the largest remaining GWR designed signalbox in Britain. It operated between 1904 and 1991 and is now being refurbished by the heritage railway, although signalling itself is controlled from Marylebone.

The original GWR station building remains in place at the station entrance and facing onto platform two. The station building houses a ticket office, which is open for most of the time that trains are running. Platform two is bi-directional so that trains, and especially freights, can access the east spur to the north of the station towards Aylesbury. Our visit coincided with the arrival of two Class 66s, top and tailing aggregate wagons and taking that route. We also saw one of the push and pull Marylebone-bound expresses shoot through on the centre road behind Class 68 No. 68031. These locos, surely one of the best diesel designs of all time, look resplendent in their more recently applied Chiltern blue livery.

  

Chinnor and Princes Risborough Railway

The C&PRR began life as the Watlington and Princes Risborough Railway in 1872 but was uneconomic from the start and was taken over by the GWR in 1883. It closed to passengers in 1957 and to goods and parcels in 1961. The section between Chinnor and Princes Risborough was retained to serve the Chinnor cement works until 1989. The heritage railway association took it over in the following year and ran their first train in 1994. In 2025, the link with the main line and platform 4 at Princes Risborough station was reinstated.

It was a scorcher on our visit last week, so much so that the usual steam service could not operate because of the fire risk, and so we were left in the hands of Brush Type 4 No. D1501 [47402] for the round trip from the pleasantly restored Chinnor station.  

Railart 2026

The Guild of Railway Artists annual exhibition opened yesterday in the gallery above Kidderminster Railway Museum at the Severn Valley Railway. There are 58 paintings on display, all in the representational style and most paying tribute to the age of steam. Two outstanding pieces by Malcolm Root set in Southampton docks were attracting a lot of attention at the preview. I was particularly drawn to the work of Stephen Warnes, who captured an unusual angle for his Misty Morning Carnforth M.P.D. and displayed admirable technical ability and imagination in Evening Train from Edinburgh. He also struck a chord with his Morning Train - Albula Line, set at Tiefencastel, Switzerland, which we had enjoyed first-hand only last year.  

 

The Chester Railway Poster

I’d run the Chester poster past Chris from the online catalogue and had been pleasantly surprised by her response. I could see what she meant. The colours were vibrant and it was clearly in excellent condition. It almost looked too good to be true for a ninety-year-old piece of paper. Could it be a modern copy? The short answer is no. Modern copies are not made to the standard sizes of the past and they’re printed on good quality art paper. The white background is very white and not faded off-white, which tends to happen to the originals. How come it looks so good then? Who knows what folk have done with their posters once bought. It looks to me that this one has been laid flat in a map chest. There are no folds and it has been backed to linen. I would be surprised if it’s ever been framed and put on display. Two small stamps in the bottom right-hand corner prove it to be a taxed Belgian import [or export], signed in 1939, and more or less conclusive proof of its authenticity.

This Chester poster has appeared at auction a number of times over recent years. The stamps in the corner prove to be a useful identifier, of course. There are other examples of the same poster out there, as well. Greg Norden’s research, printed in 2007, showed that by then copies had been sold at auction five times, reaching £481 at Christies in September 2003. Sellers of railway posters do sometimes go to fine art sales as a first port of call, but my guess is that railwayana auctions are probably better suited to reaching higher prices. If I was to spend time as a dealer, I would keep a close eye on the fine art sales like Bonhams and the specialist online poster sales like Onslows, or, indeed, other provincial auction houses, and bid only at a lower price or at the reserve price and if successful then take them to a railwayana sale in the hope of making a profit there.

The image on the Chester poster is taken next to one of Britain’s best-known and most loved rivers - the Dee. We had walked the nearby Shropshire Union canal towpath in 1967, hand in hand, and crossed the footbridge visible in the background on a Sunday school outing. Chester was part of our growing up. I went trainspotting there on numerous occasions and in all weathers during the 1960s age of steam. I was born and brought up in Cheshire when Chester was our county town, and we have just kept on going back there ever since. I have a strong affinity with Chester, and I’m delighted to have acquired this poster to help prompt more fond memories. Hardly a snip at £480 plus buyers’ premium and with framing yet to come, but worth every penny for a special item that gives us both pleasure. Claude Muncaster is an artist I’d heard of but did not know much about. It turns out that he has good pedigree and a reputation as a leading landscape painter in those inter-war years. One of the auction houses put a date of 1937 on this particular piece. Maybe I’m imagining a slightly art-deco style to the figures. Chester waterfront was obviously the place to be in your best togs, as Europe slid inevitably towards war again.

I have my own little piggy bank for frivolities like railway posters. This pot of disposable income has nearly run out now as it was accumulated when I was still earning money. The result is that round our house we have reminders in every room of places we’ve been and times we’ve had there in the form of some distinctive original artwork and these fantastic, large, colourful and sought-after images, designed with the prime purpose of shouting out to rail travellers “just look at me” from station walls all around the country. It’s heritage and legacy at the same time. Each one tells a story, even if it’s mostly about us. Nobody is going to dispose of these in a hurry [famous last words].

A summer day at Nuneaton

When I think of the days that I’ve spent cowering from the rain or nipping into station refreshment rooms to get out of the cold, here I was in the West Midlands without any means of protection from any rain or even so much as a jumper. Now it was more a matter of not getting burnt and using the platform canopies to good advantage.

A day with the trains was the perfect antidote to the disappointment of the England Argentina world cup semi-final the previous evening. They do get worked up about stuff in some parts of the world. Here at the junction station, the phlegmatic English were just going about their business quietly and without fuss as though nothing had happened. Perhaps it’s for the best. It was getting quite confusing trying to work out which England flags were the angry Reform and Restore flags and which were the innocent and positive football supporting variety.

It was announced that my train from Hinckley was delayed. The extent of the disruption to my day was soon made clear. It would arrive one minute after it was due. This is getting close to Swiss or Japanese standards of punctuality, surely, if we are getting obsessive about missing 60 seconds out of our otherwise purposeful lives.

It was busy as usual at Nuneaton, but it’s not the passenger trains that I’m there for. I noted 21 freight locomotives from classes 56, 66 [mostly], 67, 70, 88 and 90 in four and a half hours, so a pretty good rate. I try to hold out for my lunchtime sandwich until 12.00, but Realtime Trains kept me on my toes until after 1.00 as I tried to find the right angles to get some decent photos. The configuration of Nuneaton station does not necessarily make that as easy as it sounds, nor does the roughly north-south station layout and bright sunlight in the southern sky.

I really appreciate my train days. All other concerns are put on hold. It’s just me and the trains, unless anyone asks me anything [which they did, about telephoto lenses] or I need to check a number I wasn’t sure of [which I did, for a double-header Class 90. I know it’s solitary and mindless escapism and I love it. I also know, that I’ve currently nothing particularly that I need to escape from, though, as for everyone, that has not always been, and will not always be, the case. Maybe that’s the point. At the back of my mind, I know that nothing lasts for ever. I’m going to go on savouring my lifelong hobby for as long as I can.

Football matches, prime ministers and presidents [including of FIFA] will come and go, but Everton Football Club, the Houses of Parliament and Nuneaton station will still be there. So too, will be the forces that created them in the interests of the [usually] beautiful game, tolerant and liberal democracy, an international law-based order that can’t unravel the colonialism of previous centuries at a stroke but can only respond sensibly to the current state of affairs, and decent and efficient public services for all. My belief in people and the future at least partially restored, I caught the 15.24 back to Hinckley, which was four minutes late leaving Nuneaton but I didn’t mind a bit.