The Mickeys

To be honest, we were not all that chuffed to see Mickeys at the time. Every passenger train hauled by a Mickey was a slight disappointment because it could easily have been something more exotic, like a Jubilee.

Mickeys were everywhere and there were probably too many of them for us to get round to spotting the whole class. There were lots in Scotland, for a start, so we had little chance with them, including two of the four namers. On the other hand, we seemed to bump into Ayrshire Yeomanry all the time. Mickeys were dead ordinary.

This prevalent view of the order of things gradually began to change as, one by one, the other classes of steam locomotives disappeared to the scrapyards until we were left with the surviving Mickeys, Stanier 2-8-0s and a few Standards. Then we took a bit more notice. I decided that they were not such a bad thing, after all.

They are, of course, a well-balanced and harmonious design, which is very easy on the eye. They were also versatile, dependable and generally well-liked by the railwaymen who operated them. We went to see No. 45110 leave Lime Street on the last day of steam on BR, 11^th August 1968. It was quite a fitting aspect of the finale, that Stanier’s Black Fives should feature so strongly on the day. 

   

The Midland Region’s Old 0-6-0s

If there was ever a group of locos that failed to attract our interest, relatively speaking, it was probably this lot. Many examples were still creaking and shuffling around during the early 60s. They simply appeared to us as grubby and unkempt workhorses that had probably seen better days.

Making up four different classes, all with 0-6-0 wheel arrangements, and classified as 3F and 4F, their Midland pedigree was attributed to Johnson, Deeley and Fowler. They were introduced between 1885 and 1924 and those members built for the Somerset and Dorset Joint Railway were also taken into LMS stock eventually.

It looks like I didn’t bother trying to photograph any of them, myself. Luckily, John Dyer was not so short-sighted and he found working examples in a number of locations, including No. 43240 at Carlisle Kingmoor in 1960, No. 43954 at Westhouses in 1962, No. 44081 at Carlisle in 1960, No. 44545 at Buxton in 1962 and No. 44595 at Hope and Pen-y-fford in 1962.  

       

Best Laid Plans

How can I make my photo of the Class 60 on oil tanks through Fiskerton a little bit different this time? I know, I thought, I’ll use the zoom lens to cunningly place the 60-m.p.h. speed limit sign next to the Class 60. Imagine my surprise then, when for the first time since I’ve been going down there with any regularity, a Class 66 comes into view round the bend and between the trees.

Nothing wrong with a bit of variety, of course, and No. 66137 looked very smart and colourful in her DB red uniform and I prefer this design to the 60s anyway. My little book tells me that the DB Cargo Class 66s are fitted with “stop start technology”, which I expect comes in quite useful from time to time, as well.

Bridge Parapets Two

This one is very close to home. It crosses the Southwell Trail at the site of the former Farnsfield station on Cockett Lane, at the corner of Station Lane. There is a nice display of wild flowers growing along the grass verge at this point.

Probably the most boring railway photo in the world

- though, I realise that there is already some competition in that category within my own collection. This one shows a bridge parapet on the road leading into Rainworth from the White Post roundabout. It is disappearing beneath vegetation and on the other side of the road its twin has vanished long ago. I nearly failed to notice it in passing, myself, and I had to double back to take my photo, having suddenly realised that it represented a gap in my mental map of the old colliery lines in the area.

This was the bridge over the spur connecting the Blidworth colliery branch to the Mansfield to Southwell line. It looped round to join that route in a south to east connection at Blidworth Junction, allowing coal from the pit to be taken straight towards Nottingham, via Fiskerton Junction. Moving on, I turned towards Blidworth and came across Nightjar Way, close to the former colliery site. Though nightjars are still regular summer visitors to the area, they will be giving this particular venue a miss since all these new houses have been built on their patch.

Groundhog Day

Back to Rolleston for yesterday’s lunchtime oil empties from Kingsbury to Humber refinery. Class 60 No. 60039 Dove Holes was in charge this time. The moments waiting for the train - just listening to bird song and the breeze rustling the leaves on the trees whilst looking out for warblers and raptors - has become quite an important part of the experience.

Amazingly, I also still get a bit of a buzz when any locomotive-hauled train first pulls into view. At least no one told me to “Fall off” my bike this time, as happened last time out, after I had pulled onto the verge to allow him to pass me in a narrow lane. I thought I was doing him a favour. Perhaps he took it as indicative of my irritation at having him right behind me. White van man rushing to judgement - say no more.  

Rambling Again

Online chats have been one of the pluses of this extra time at home. Numbers can get a bit unwieldy if you want to make sure that you get your “half-pen’orth” in, though, while trying not be rude by simply shouting the loudest. Andy and I went off on one recently, remembering the many visits we made to the sheds  - especially Birkenhead - in the early and mid-60s. I could see that the girls’ eyes were starting to glaze over, but we were on a roll by then and there was no stopping us.

Most sheds were in solidly working-class areas and typically surrounded by rows of small Victorian terraced houses. No front gardens, and the front doors opened straight out onto the pavement. We were generally out of our comfort zone. In some cases, we were part of an organised visit and possibly even in school uniform, which I suppose afforded us some safety in numbers.

Usually, we were in smaller groups, at weekends and during holidays. Cycling also provided some security. Once into Birkenhead, my guess is that we upped the pace in a Pavlovian response to the change of location demarcated by the bridges over the docks. We were in and out of Mollington Street on a Sunday morning like a dose of salts - weaving in and out of any small knots of kids playing in the cul-de-sac and too fast to attract comment from the somewhat dazed middle-aged men propped up against their front doors in their vests, smoking a fag, recovering from a trip to the pub the night before and maybe planning to squeeze in another quick half while their nearest and dearest saw to the Sunday roast.

Where we were more vulnerable was away from home in areas we didn’t know. We were tentatively finding our way, guided by Aidan Fuller’s shed directory. Gangs of lads of our age were exactly what we needed to avoid. I fancy that the local youths would probably have noticed that we were different - strangers with a different accent, maybe looking a bit on the clean side [in the morning, anyway] and dressed by Marks and Spencer’s.

The surprising thing is that, by and large, we got away with it. As Andy reminded me, the folk who lived near to the sheds must have been used to this procession of kids from all sorts of backgrounds wandering through their home turf. They probably didn’t even bat an eyelid. The only two such confrontations I can remember were both when cycling. The only time we were seriously apprehended, at all, was by the shed foreman at Shrewsbury. Even that did not deter us from returning the next morning after a night at the local youth hostel.

Once in the sheds, of course, the only other lads were like-minded and part of our tribe. We understood each other and there was never any bother. We led a charmed life. More than ever, now, that is just how it seems. 

Crab No. 42942 was a Birkenhead engine and we saw her many times. She was one of two Crabs still at work at the beginning of 1967. Here she is in March of that year, dead as a dodo at the side of the sheds in the company of a 2-10-0. By November 1967 steam had finished operating out of Mollington Street.