by Tony Wilson
Chapter 24
The following morning I stood in front of the assembled Engineers and volunteers and presented Aaron, Michael, David, Pierre, Topsy and Marcus with their sunglasses and chronometers, now ticking silently away. They had been my ‘prime movers’ in this project, and then after pronouncing that the restoration was now ‘well and truly started’ I ceremonially pulled the chocks from under the wheels of the first aircraft destined for the waiting production line, although as I looked at the applauding Engineers and volunteers I wondered what ‘small’ memento they would be leaving with, then I remembered that I had an abundance of 20mm cannon shells from the 190’s, problem solved.
As I wandered around the gathered throng I managed to have a few surreptitious words with most of my ‘A’ Team, who all nodded in agreement, although yet again Teddy was conspicuous by his absence, anybody that dared to mention anything to do with the vintage aircraft to him were on a racing certainty that he would be in a foul mood for the rest of the day, he didn’t like to play second fiddle to anyone, or anything, so at precisely eleven o’clock I sat at the conference table, and around me were gathered my complete ‘A’ Team for its regular monthly meeting, and almost to a person in total agreement with item number 1 on the agenda. Before we started I asked Maria if she would ask Marcus, who as usual was minding the office whilst these sorts of meetings were taking place, to bring in a package that was sat on my desk, and a few moments later he entered and handed it to me, and then turned to leave.
‘Marcus’ I said ‘please wait a moment’ and indicating a vacant chair I said ‘take a seat’.
Slightly bemused he sat down, but looked forward to the opportunity of watching the ‘powers that be’ in their deliberations.
‘Item one on the agenda’ I started, ‘the growing problem that members of this team are having in coping with the management of their increasing staffing levels within their departments’. ‘All those in favour of my solution please raise their hand’ and all but one member raised their hand, but poor old Teddy didn’t have clue what was going on so he hesitated, ‘those against’, but Teddy sensibly decided to play the ‘abstention card’ and so I said ‘passed’.
A confused Marcus looked on, surly it was normally a more democratic process than this?, and then became even more confused when I removed something from the package that he had just brought in, and slid it over to him. He looked down at it and started to cry, I really, really was going to have to do something about my people skills. In front of him lay a name plaque with MARCUS BRANNING, DIRECTOR OF HUMAN RESOURCES (and disaster control). Maria handed him a box of tissues (she had come prepared for this eventuality) and after he had collected his composure I asked him, ‘well, do you accept?’
He gave me a nod, ‘right, Item two, grockles’; although Teddy interrupted me before I could continue, he wasn’t a happy little bunny.
‘Why wasn’t I aware of this’ he stormed.
‘Oh did I miss you, as it was a ‘compulsory request’ that you all attend the ceremony this morning, I thought that I had gott’n round to everyone there’, I innocently said.
‘I left early’ he sulkily said.
‘Ah well - never mind, I’m sure you agree, right, item two – grockles’.
What is a grockle (AKA rubbernecker) you may ask; it’s Cornish for holidaymaker or visitor? Carlos, a member of the ‘B’ Team had raised the point that tourists were now turning up at the gate almost hourly asking if they could come in and have a look around El Campo, sometimes by the bus load, it was starting to become a right royal PIA (pain in aris), so Caroline, who was Chairing that meeting promised to pass it upwards.
Teddy of course was anti the idea of letting anyone in, he could just visualise a rubbernecker disappearing down the intake of one of his precious Hunters. David was a tad worried that a terrorist would assassinate me, and Caroline thought it would be a wonderful idea, the flowers are so pretty in the summer, and then Marcus made his first contribution in his new capacity, hoping that it wouldn’t be his last.
‘How about a 15inch gauge miniature railway’, he said.
There was complete and utter silence.
‘Have I made a mistake?’ I thought.
But he bravely persevered, apparently he (unbelievably) had a peaked cap, oil can and sweat rag! He was a qualified miniature railway engine driver. His father was an avid enthusiast and he had been weaned on miniature steam engines. Apparently the main difference between miniature railways and narrow gauge railways is that the engines are replicas of full sized ones; it has nothing at all to do with the size of the track (that’s news to me, I always thought that size was important), and the locomotives could have ‘live’ steam, diesel engines, petrol engines, or electric motors propelling them.
‘Does that mean that there is ‘dead’ steam running about out there?’ I innocently asked.
‘Yes’ he innocently said – ‘but you call it water’, this is a side of Marcus I never dreamt existed, and after ten minutes my eyes started to glaze over as he recited fact after fact, but I started to warm to his suggestion, so ‘all those in favour of Marcus carrying out a feasibility study raise their hand’ and all but one person raised a hand.
‘Carried’ I said, I wasn’t remotely interested if Teddy wanted to vote against the idea or just abstain, whoever said this was a democracy anyway?
After the meeting concluded it was a celebratory cup of tea all round (Marcus was teetotal) and then I went off to the greenhouse for a spot of lunch, wondering as I went, if I could get a sweaty cloth?
Now any sane person would think that I had enough to keep myself busy, what with my boats and planes and golf course and……., but no, now I was contemplating getting into trains as well. Marcus and his dad quickly put a presentation together and a month after his inaugural speech - ‘how about a 15inch gauge miniature railway?’ (I didn’t say that it was a long speech) he had a tent erected on my front lawn (when you live on an airfield, you have an awfully large front lawn), and I sat, along with my ‘A’, ‘B’, ‘C’ and any other team that could squeeze in, waiting for him to start. Why couldn’t we hold the presentation in the conference room or cinema, because of the ‘backdrop’, it was a one third scale 4-6-2 steam locomotive, and it was gi-normous; and Marcus wanted to fire it up, but fortunately his father clipped him round the ear, and that put a stop to that idea. Maybe Marcus’s hands wanted to grab hold of a vintage grease nipple, but his presentational skills were definitely twenty-first century, and we were quickly in the cab of the Lady S (a 4-6-2 locomotive similar to the one sat in front of us, that is) and about to set off along the fifteen inch (381 mm) gauge track. We departed from the main station (at the site of the now redundant temporary main gate, which was used during the renovations when I had first moved in (Carlos had apparently suggested that), and were soon passing the main gate, fortunately there were level crossings, complete with gates, when we crossed the roads (Thomas insisted on them), and made our way towards the front of Mi Casa (Mrs Blake suggested that – privacy for me and my guests ‘out back’), just in front of the control tower (Chalkies idea, although I would lose two helicopter spots – but who really needs five anyway!), and how about a station there for me and my guests (that was me). We steamed past the back of the hangars and the engine shed (AKA C Hangar), and around the airfield perimeter, although there would be signals situated at the approaches to the runways (the CAA, FAA and every other alphabet organisation would insist on that). When we approached the coast we could have gotten out and played on the amusements, or had a picnic or BBQ, (Marcel suggested that) or gone for a walk along the cliff tops (somebody suggested that it might have been Charlie that suggested that) , but no, we carried on behind X, Y, and Z hangars (and Teddy actually suggested a station there that his people could use when they needed to go and eat in the greenhouse, or go home – ahhh is he mellowing – no, they could keep their cars outside the main gate and so keep off his taxiways). As we passed high above the marina there was ano
ther station – leading to a funicular railway going down the cliff into it (Carol’s idea), and then it was back into the main station, unless we first stopped off at yet another station, transferred onto an electric train (Marcus reckoned that it would be quieter and cleaner than steam) (WHAT - nobody had mentioned ‘noisy’ or ‘dirty’ steam to me), and after crossing the runway it would climb up onto an elevated track, hopefully away from too many flying golf balls, and loop around the golf course (Paul hated that). David was partially placated when it was mentioned that most of the track would be fenced in, and I finally won him over when I said that he could have as many new CCTV cameras as he wanted, covering the whole track, and all fitted with motion detectors, although I did draw the line at electrifying the fences, and patrolling dogs, but it turned out that Chalkie was the easiest one of all to please, I just promised him a larger chicken coop (apparently they are ‘modulated’, so it is a relatively easy operation), and a full time assistant signalman, and Beryl was already busy pricking out her Fuchsia’s. A large car park could be constructed on land that I already owned below the old gate (Consultants suggested that) and visitors would be lifted up to the entrance in a wheelchair friendly cable car (Inma suggested that). Visitors would only pay an entrance charge that covered the railways running costs (Itza suggested that - if I didn’t charge anything {I suggested that} then the queues would be twice around the Costa Blanca, and if I tried to make a profit on the whole shebang then only people richer than myself could afford to come). Decisions, decisions, decisions, but at the end of the presentation I said ‘OK Marcus – sounds good to me, but only if I can have an oily cap’, and I was going to have to add ‘Station Master’ to his new job description.
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