S&DJR Class 7F 2-8-0s

This Fowler designed class of freight locomotive dates from 1914. Eleven engines were built in total for the S&DJR and they were eventually taken into LMS stock, in 1930. John Dyer photographed Nos. 53803 and 53806 at Bath Green Park sheds on 22 August 1961. By the time of my summer 1962 combined volume only 7 examples were left in service.

My only visit to Green Park sheds was on 25/7/64. I copped Nos. 53807 and 53809 there on that day. I was just in time, as all of the class had been withdrawn by the end of that year. No. 53809 was preserved along with No. 53808, and I caught up with her at a later date. 

  

Christmas Day 1966

We were on our way to Grah’s Uncle and Auntie’s house in Cricklewood to gate-crash their Christmas dinner at very short notice, an act of kindness never forgotten. Our “good idea”, well probably mine, I think, of Christmas at London youth hostels back-fired somewhat, when we discovered that London was largely closed. We were stopped by the police in Southwark, who couldn’t believe that we had forfeited family Christmases at home to wander empty streets.

We went round Nine Elms, with some very grubby engines, but at least they were still not yet separated from their nameplates. We took in Chelsea v Liverpool and the others went to watch Arsenal v Southampton, while I listed the diesels on Stratford sheds, so it certainly wasn’t a complete disaster - and it still provides some amusing memories. Photo with thanks to Dave Beck.

Happy Christmas, all round.

Aspinall Class 3F 0-6-0

The final ex-L&YR survivors to make it into my 1962 Ian Allan combined volume were these elderly-looking Class 3Fs, formerly designated as Class 27 and introduced in 1889. There were 484 of these Horwich-built locomotives. No. 52322 was preserved and is based on the East Lancashire Railway. John Dyer photographed four examples of the class. No. 52129 was at Gorton works in 1961, No. 52218 in Crewe works in 1962, and No. 52225 and No. 52464 were there as well, in January 1959.

 

A Dismal Shortest Day on the Castle Line

The shortest day, in terms of daylight hours, was compounded by heavy skies and rain all morning. When it finally stopped at 1.00, I slipped down on my bike to Rolleston for the lunchtime oil tank returns bound for the Humber refinery. It was due to pass at 13.56 and though it had been shown as being 12 minutes down, it had made up time by Nottingham and was now back on schedule approaching Rolleston.

No. 60054 duly obliged, without keeping me there long enough to get cold standing around. I’m not sure exactly when it was that I started to wrap up warmly, as my Mum had regularly advised me to do in the distant past. It was advice regularly ignored then, but not anymore, she would have been pleased to know.

Closer to home, I climbed the hill a bit more quickly than usual. I was expecting a delivery that was too big for the letter box. If the train had been late it would have been touch and go. There were very precise instructions from the carrier that I needed to be home by 14.42 and for an hour thereafter. A motorbike approached from the opposite direction. As he passed me, he imitated my hill climbing style by putting his knees out wide and adopting a rocking motion, moving his head from side to side in an exaggerated fashion. Even Chris Froome does a bit of that on the Col de Tourmalet. What was his point, though?

“I’ve got a motorbike and you’ve only got a bike, so I must be “considerably richer than yow”.

“Your riding style is pathetically childlike and uncool and you must be an eight stone weakling”.

“I am a complete knob and I just love trying to wind people up at every opportunity”.

I was home with 5 minutes to spare before the specified parcel arrival time. The package was already waiting for me on top of the plastic container marked for deliveries next to the door. It had been dropped off prior to 14.37.

My solstice experience had been determined by a handful of moments in time. Retirement confers the luxury of time to fill, as opposed to time already charted out in advance. It is my waking thought again today that time is mine to do what I want with and I’m very grateful for that, even on the shortest day - and the skies get brighter from now on, as well.

Aspinall Class 2F

These 0-6-0 saddle tanks were Aspinall rebuilds of a L&YR design by Barton. They were introduced in 1877 as dock shunters and also used for hauling short freight trains. Designated Class 23 by the L&YR, they were later given the classification 2F. 230 engines were produced, eventually. I saw only one of these before their complete withdrawal in 1964 - No. 51412. There is one preserved example based at the ELR. John Dyer photographed No. 51412 in Crewe works in March 1962, which is no doubt where I saw her, too.  

Aspinall’s L&YR 0-4-0 Saddle Tank

There were eventually 60 of these “Pug” dock shunters, which were introduced in 1886. The first three were built at Vulcan Foundry and the rest at Horwich works, and all were completed by 1910. They were given the power classification 0F by the LMS. Their short wheelbase meant that they could negotiate the tight curves leading to dockside sidings in Liverpool and elsewhere more easily. The last examples were withdrawn in 1964. Two locomotives were preserved by the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Trust. One is at the K&WVR and the other is at the ELR at Bury.

John Dyer’s photographs show Nos. 51204 and 51237 at Agecroft sheds in August 1962, No. 51206 on a foggy morning at Sandhills in October 1960, and No. 51232 awaiting disposal in August 1963 on a low loader at Salford goods yard.

Win a few....

One day recently, I overtook two cyclists and no cyclists overtook me. That was a first. The next day, my record of one day’s duration was still intact, when a cyclist pulled up alongside me and started to chat. It was a narrow lane and he was not two metres away so I drifted a bit nearer to the grass verge. I limited my responses in the hope that he would overtake me, in spite of the imminent danger to my now potentially short-lived record. “Horrible year it’s been”, he had started, moving quickly on to the other, big - and pre-Covid - talking point. “Looks like no deal”, he said. “Getting the lorry parks ready in Kent”, I replied. “We voted out”, he said, “but it makes you think we might have got it wrong”. I glanced over towards him. “You don’t say”, I thought.

We climbed the sharp rise to the T junction at the top. A bin lorry sat across the junction waiting for us both to get out of the way. I prayed for him to go left, as I had planned to go right - though I had just decided that my travel plans were actually very flexible. He stopped to engage the bin lorry driver in conversation. “Horrible year…”, I guessed. I braved a quick look over my shoulder. If the driver had already managed to extricate himself, my new friend must have gone left and he hadn’t even overtaken me.

Yesterday, with the sun out, I noticed an unusual freight working from Immingham was due mid-morning so I shot off to the station. The train never came but its cancellation was not posted until I got home. I photographed my bike, instead, along with its shadow. Somebody needs to give that bike a good clean. I was overtaken by a cyclist on the way home. Not to be completely outdone, I slipped back down to the station in the car in the afternoon, in time to see Class 60 No. 60015 returning the oil empties to the refinery.