I spent a day at Shenfield in order to observe the Southend trains as well as those for Ipswich and Norwich, travelling there behind an ‘L1’, 67737, and back behind ‘B1’ 61201, and achieved reasonable shots of a ‘B12’ (61546), a ‘B2’ (61644), a new ‘Britannia’ (70006) and a filthy ‘K2’ (61777), of a class which I do not really associate with the East Anglian main line. I was taken one evening to see the comedy ‘Charlie’s Aunt’ in London, and our return was on the 10.30pm Liverpool Street–Norwich mail train, with Ipswich ‘B12’ 61535, an engine that has featured in Dick Hardy’s tales about his time at Ipswich when ‘B12s’ were allocated to regular crews and included this important train in their diagrammed work. At the time I was disappointed, as I was hoping for a named locomotive — a ‘Sandringham’ or ‘Britannia’. However, it went well, and in later years I appreciated having experience of this class in its heyday.
At the end of the week I was taken to Chelmsford station to catch the next train back to London, but I determined to stay until I got a ‘namer’ on my train. I therefore watched a string of ‘B1’ departures and was about to give up when a train from the Clacton line drew in behind ‘B2’ 61639 Norwich City, and I took that with gratitude.
Early the following year (1953) I was again a guest at my aunt’s in Chelmsford. My cousin Eileen (the primary-school teacher) accompanied me from Liverpool Street, so I had no choice of train and instead of a ‘Britannia’ got ‘B12/3’ 61566 on a semi-fast — I now value her choice! I chose to spend one bleak January day train-spotting on Shenfield station. This added a few more ‘B12s’ to the diet of ‘B1s’ and ‘B17s’ (and brand-new ‘Britannias’) on the GE main line (the ‘B12s’ seeming to monopolise the Southend workings). Around midday it started to snow, and reason advised me to join a down express, which pulled in behind ‘B1’ 61201. However, I’d already had a couple of runs with this loco and decided to wait for the next train. The snow got harder, and nothing came in either direction. A light-engine (‘N7’ 69654) appeared eventually off the Southend line and stood on the far platform. The driver, peering out into the blizzard, took pity on the frozen waif on the other platform and beckoned me across. So my second footplate run was a few yards down to the water column whilst I roasted myself before the glowing fire. It started to get dark; still no other train arrived, and eventually a member of station staff appeared and told me that there would be no service for at least another two hours. On looking at my ticket, he retired into his office, and an ‘L1’ (67734) miraculously appeared with a couple of coaches from the carriage sidings to form a special to Chelmsford, just for my benefit! But I got my ‘Britannia’ (70005 John Milton) on my return to London the following day.
Back to January 1952. Before returning to my boarding school I spent a further day in London and found out the hard way the limitations of my simple camera. A reasonable shot of a ‘B1’ (!) on the turntable at Liverpool Street and a passable shot of 6013 King Henry VIII leaving Paddington on the ‘Cornish Riviera’ were acceptable, as was a panned photo of 5979 Cruckton Hall leaving Paddington with a semi-fast for Oxford, giving the impression that it was attempting the speed blue riband to Subway Junction. However, 5087 departing Paddington in swathes of steam and a blurred 5034 arriving demonstrated to me that my shutter speed was not up to such movement in the poor light of winter. A subsequent attempt at a shot of 34007 passing through Surbiton in drizzling rain as I returned to school proved the point beyond all doubt.
I seem to have allowed myself one trip to London each school holiday. My Easter-holiday excursion furnished more ‘Castles’ and blue ‘Kings’ at Paddington, which was most memorable for my first sight of gas-turbine locomotive 18000, nicknamed ‘Kerosene Castle’. The 1952 summer visit produced a crop of photos from Paddington, distinguished by a shot of my favourite ‘Castle’, 4087, arriving from Minehead (no camera blur this time) and another of 4705 after arrival with a summer-holiday express. I made a brief visit to see the Tilbury three-cylinder Stanier tanks at Fenchurch Street and took another photo on Liverpool Street’s turntable, this time in the sunshine showing off ‘B12’ 61549, with which I won my school Railway Society’s photo competition in 1953.
The winter ‘Cornish Riviera’ departing Paddington behind 6013 King Henry VIII, 5 January 1952.
On subsequent London trips I began to take local trains out to places like Southall, Willesden, Hendon and Finsbury Park to see freight services and take photos of trains on the move, although my limited shutter speed always made that a gamble. I was rewarded by the sights of wheezing ‘G2’ and ‘G2a’ 0-8-0s at Willesden, the occasional ‘28xx’ en route to Acton and Swindon ‘Dukedog’ 9023, which seemed quite out of place in the metropolis. Motive power on my short journeys was usually restricted to ‘61xx’ out of Paddington and Fairburn and Fowler 2-6-4 tanks out of Euston and St Pancras, although I do remember a couple of ‘Black Fives’ and one Kentish Town ‘Jubilee’, 45557 New Brunswick, on a non-corridor all-stations train to Bedford, which I took as far as Cricklewood. The best was getting back to King’s Cross from Finsbury Park, especially in summer, when a succession of expresses would stop there in the queue to reach the terminus. I could jump a train and savour snippets behind such Pacifics as ‘A2’ 60533 Happy Knight and ‘A4’ 60029 Woodcock, although on one occasion I came unstuck when I joined a train behind a rare named ‘B1’, 61027 Madoqua, and finished up at Broad Street.
‘B12/3’ 61549 on the turntable at Liverpool Street, 4 April 1953.
For Christmas 1953 I received a ‘do-it-yourself’ photo-printing kit, and my photos for the following year display an inconsistency of quality that arose from my early efforts. Some are ‘muddy’ in the extreme, but as I began to learn the techniques of shading the foreground (to bring out the smoke and sky effects) and got more practice, some worthwhile scenes were preserved for posterity. By this time, though, I was fifteen years of age, nearing sixteen, and the lone trips I undertook are no longer worthy of comment. Looking back at those early years, however, it is remarkable how much we were allowed to do without supervision. I do not recall ever getting into any situations that would be considered dangerous, apart from those assaults on my eyes by the smuts that were a constant hazard of train journeys in steam days — especially for young boys who insisted on sticking their heads out of carriage windows.
Tableau 2
Euston–Willesden, 1953
I’m home from boarding school, and we’ve a fortnight before we go to Devon for our annual summer holiday. I’ve loaded the Ilford film into my folding Kodak camera, eight negatives awaiting my activation, and at the very first opportunity, a Saturday, I’m away to London. It’s already warm, and I’ve just emerged from the Northern Line at Euston station. My sandwiches, notebook and all four Ian Allan ‘ABCs’ are in my old satchel slung across my shoulder, and my camera case hangs in front of me, ready to be opened as soon as I spy anything that takes my fancy. I make my way first to the arrival side, to platforms 1, 2 and 3, and see at once that all three are still occupied, two by night sleepers whose coaches have not yet been removed to Willesden. I glance swiftly at a ‘Scot’ and a Camden ‘Duchess’, 46235 City of Birmingham, that’s no cop, but my eye fastens on the sleek shape of a ‘Princess Royal’ pacific at the buffer-stops at platform 2, still sporting the ‘Ulster Express’ headboard. As I push my way through the holiday crowds already mustering I see it’s 46203 Princess Margaret Rose, and there’s something strange about it. My eyes adjust to the glare reflected from the roof, and I notice that it’s dark blue.
I undo the catch on my camera case. This is a ‘must’, although — despite the sun — the object of my desire lies in the shadow. I could take it in the classic pose alongside the ‘Scot’ peeping behind it at Platform 1, but for some reason I move back towards the tender and peer through the viewfinder at the large numerals on the cabside and the elongated boiler of the pacific, the top reflecting the shafts of sunlight piercing the opaque glass panels of the roof blackened by decades of ste
am locomotives that have stood in this very spot. One exposure gone. Will it come out properly? Or was the shadow too great? Will the negative be underexposed? I linger a short while, savouring the moment of spotting my first engine of this class, much more handsome, I think, than the other LM locomotives, more like my favourite ‘Kings’ and ‘Castles’. Then I drag myself away and buy a platform ticket to enter the main-line departure platforms and join the gaggle of spotters already crammed into the narrow end of platform 13.
I’m tempted to take more photos — another ‘Scot’ has backed into the centre platforms to pick up a van, and a gleaming ex-works ‘Compound’, 41144, has just slipped in over the far side of the station, but I wasn’t quick enough, and it was probably too far away to get a decent photo. Anyway, I’m meant to be saving my shots for later, for I’ve decided to go out to Willesden Junction to see, hopefully, some freights. It’s getting hot now — I’m wearing a shirt and tie (!) and school blazer; train-spotters are still nattily and inappropriately dressed. I purchase a day-return ticket to Willesden Junction and, having made my way to the front of the train of eight non-corridor coaches standing at platform 7, find a filthy 2-6-4 tank, 42118 of Willesden, at its head. Luckily the train is nearly empty, so I bag a compartment and I dash to windows on either side to catch everything I can. We bark up Camden Bank, and I’m hanging out the window as we pass Camden shed — too quickly for my liking, as I can scarcely write down the numbers of the assembled 4-6-0s and pacifics crammed together in the cramped depot — 46228, 46240 and 45703, I scribble; there was another ‘Jubilee’ which I missed and a ‘Black Five’ over the back, but it’s too late: we’re plunging into Primrose Hill Tunnel, and I’m struggling with the strap to close the window, choking as the smoke pours into the compartment, bouncing off the tunnel walls.
I’m still wafting the smoke out of the compartment through the now fully opened window when the brakes screech on; we’re through another tunnel, luckily steam now shut off, and it’s Willesden Junction, where I scramble out, making sure I don’t leave any of my precious cargo behind. I explore my new surroundings. We have drawn up in the middle platform between the fast and slow lines, and even as 42118 pulls away, the wheezing of a dirty old LNWR ‘G2a’, 49061, takes my attention; I hastily unfasten my camera case, but the old engine has slipped behind some wagons and is tortuously easing itself and a few wagons away in the direction of Wembley. Suddenly there is a prolonged hoot in the distance. I look up to see a train advancing fast on the up line. Before I can even contemplate taking a photo the double-headed train sweeps past, its ‘2P’ 4-4-0 pilot lurching wildly as it takes the curve through the platform. I just get its number, 40674, but the ‘Jubilee’ behind is gone in a blur. Was it 45634 or 45643? I look them up in my ‘shedbook’ later and find they’re both Crewe (5A) engines, so I’m no wiser. Perhaps coming to Willesden was a mistake. Then an ‘8F’ trundles towards me from the Kensington line, and I take a photo of 48623 as it clanks past with a row of vanfits. I’ve hardly put my camera away when I hear the steady pounding of an engine working hard, and a shape I don’t recognise bursts from Kensal Green Tunnel. I hurriedly get my camera out and am just in time to get a quick snap of my first sight of a BR ‘Standard 5’, 73042, on a relief train for North Wales. It’s going well, and as soon as I’ve clicked the shutter I realise that I’ll be lucky if it isn’t just a blur, as 1/25 of a second is not enough to stop that sort of movement.
I retreat to the up slow platform to give myself more of a chance to get the numbers of trains which are still speeding past in the up direction and take photos of slower-moving trains on the slow lines, and am rewarded with a shot of unrebuilt ‘Patriot’ 45511 Isle of Man coming steadily down the line with a long train of northbound perishables. I watch a couple more expresses hurl themselves through the station, nearing their destination, steam already shut off — 46144 Honourable Artillery Company on a train from Liverpool, then a rebuilt ‘Patriot’, 45525 Colwyn Bay, blowing off steam furiously as it freewheels past with a train from Manchester and Stoke. But there are no more freights. Most engine crews are required for the holiday passenger traffic, and freight work is minimal on summer Saturdays. Suddenly a ‘Black Five’, 45375 of Rugby, bustles into my platform with a semi-fast from Northampton, and I have to make up my mind. Do I go back to Euston and then to Paddington in time for lunchtime trains or wait to see if there is anything more here? The ‘Black Five’ takes the decision for me. It’ll be the first LM tender engine I’ve travelled behind, so my mind is made up. I take it.
Locally allocated unrebuilt ‘Patriot’ 45511 Isle of Man passes Willesden Junction with a northbound fitted freight, 8 April 1954.
Chapter 4
Devon holidays
6863 Dolhwyel Grange at Paignton on the early-morning stopping train to Exeter, 19 August 1952.
After several years of ‘boring’ seaside holidays on the South Coast my family decided to become more ambitious and booked into a boarding house in Paignton for August 1952. We caught a Summer Saturday train from Surbiton; Nine Elms ‘Scotch Arthur’ 30787 Sir Menadeuke took us to Salisbury, and Salisbury’s blue 35007 Aberdeen Commonwealth covered the next leg to Exeter Central.
Exeter westwards was a mystery to me, and I was amazed when three (!) locomotives backed on to take us down the bank to St Davids. An Exmouth Junction ‘cop’, 34025 Whimple, had ‘T9’ 30702 and one of the ‘E1/R’ bankers, 32135, returning to its base to await the next service requiring a push up the hill to Central. I remember standing transfixed as the three locomotives stood blowing off steam furiously under the bridge at the end of the platform — I could only just see the details of the 0-6-2T at the front. The descent to St Davids is only three quarters of a mile, but for me on that occasion it was a magical journey. And from St Davids I enjoyed my first run behind a Great Western engine since 4087 — a packed Cardiff–Kingswear train behind clean lined-black 4968 Shotton Hall. We were squashed in the corridor, but it didn’t matter. I was in for two weeks’ heaven!
Every morning before breakfast I’d be on the overbridge at the London end of Paignton station, train-spotting by the level crossing. I recall a frequent visitor was 6863, with what was to me an unpronounceable name Dolhywel Grange (I think ‘Dollywell’ was my best guess). Another was 6817 Gwenddwr Grange, with equally mysterious spelling, and a third common engine was 6845 Paviland Grange, on which I was to have a footplate run during my management training at Old Oak Common ten years later. One day my sister had returned from the beach early, as she’d been feeling unwell, and claimed to have seen 5021 Whittington Castle as she passed the station going westwards — 5021 was an Exeter engine and rare in London, but despite hanging around the railway the next day the only ‘Castle’ I saw was 7019 of Bristol on the early-morning stopper. Most days we walked to the beach at Goodrington, which backed onto the line as it began the climb to Churston and on to Kingswear. Paddling and sandcastle-building could be accompanied by train-spotting — one of the few occasions on which I have successfully multi-tasked. I can remember on several evenings seeing a polished 5050 Earl of St Germans barking up the gradient as we were beginning to pack up and head back to our lodgings for the evening meal; I now realise it was the Shrewsbury engine on the alternate-day double-home working between Shrewsbury and Newton Abbot — it would go through to Kingswear and return to Newton Abbot on a local before picking up the 8am Plymouth–Liverpool the next day. Of course, Teignmouth was even better than Goodrington, and I persuaded our family to make a day trip there so we could sunbathe — with parents and sister looking out to sea and me facing the sea wall! Our stopper from Newton Abbot was hauled by a grubby blue ‘King’, 6022 King Edward III.
Blue ‘Merchant Navy’ 35007 Aberdeen Commonwealth observes a signal check at Surbiton. (Robin Russell)
‘Star’ 4056 Princess Margaret rushes into Kingswear station with the 8.5am Cardiff, 23 August 1952.
A few days later I was playing cricket with my dad on a small grassy park betwee
n the railway line and Goodrington beach. I’d been pestering to play cricket, but my sister wouldn’t oblige, so my dad had become a reluctant bowler. Suddenly I heard something coming and halted my father in mid-stride as I ran to the boundary hedge and peered through at the oncoming light-engine. Oh joy! It was the legendary 111, the former Great Bear. My father was annoyed. ‘Do you want to play cricket or not?’ he shouted in exasperation. I didn’t mind then either way. I could just see the advancing ‘Castle’ frontage and that magic smokebox-door numberplate, 111.
When I first went train-spotting at Paddington ‘Saints’ and ‘Stars’ were not uncommon — my first visit there, as noted earlier, ‘copped’ Nos 2949, 4007, 4051 and 4052. Later I saw 2945, 4049, 4053, 4054, 4059 and 4061, as well as 4021 British Monarch, which I saw several times on semi-fasts from Didcot or Oxford. For some reason I had always had a soft spot for 4056. (I think as a five-year-old I developed a crush for a photo of the seven-year-old princess in one of my picture books.) I first saw it that year at Kingswear — we had spent our middle Saturday (23 August) on the Dart river steamer and were returning to Paignton behind 4091 Dudley Castle. I was just photographing the ‘Castle’ when 4056 rushed into the station on a train from Cardiff, taking me by surprise, and the hurried shot only just got the front end in focus!
A couple of days later we took a day excursion from Paignton to Plymouth. We were hauled to Newton Abbot by tender-first ‘Modified Hall’ 6994, which ran round at the latter station and was then piloted by 7813 Freshford Manor over the South Devon banks. To my disappointment our evening train home was a stopping service headed by, of all things, ‘West Country’ 34017 Ilfracombe, which I’d seen so many times at Surbiton; I learned later that this was to maintain Southern Region crews’ knowledge of the GW coast line from Exeter in case of diversions, while the WR crew and a ‘63xx’ had a daily turn over the North Devon line.
A Privileged Journey Page 4