False Starts, Near Misses and Dangerous Goods

by Geoff Body

  Stoke Canon signal box went to plan, as did Hele & Bradninch, although it was a delicate balancing act between genuine speed and the need to avoid giving offence by taking up the offer of a cup of tea at every single stopping point. Sadly my system could not cope with the constant topping up with tea, which then necessitated a detour to a local filling station for my benefit rather than that of the car.

  The result was that arrival at Tiverton Junction was not going to be on time; indeed, it turned out to be 2.30 p.m., which I didn’t think was too bad for a first attempt and at least I would only be inconveniencing one early turn signalman. Not until my arrival did I remember that this was where a further twenty members of the permanent-way gang came for their money, and so I was met by twenty-one angry men, mostly ‘armed’ with 4ft-fishplate spanners and shovels and all blaming me for their delayed meals.

  What had originally seemed an inconvenience at having the final delivery to the small freight point of Uffculme now proved a miraculous escape route and at last I could calm down and slow down. It was never quite as hectic as that first time, as I became far more knowledgeable of short cuts and was gradually trusted to transfer all variety of unofficial items between signal boxes for staff personal purposes (I didn’t ask!).

  WINTERINGHAM AND FRODINGHAM

  Bill Parker got a military-style briefing for a task he was given at Doncaster

  In late 1949 after National Service, I returned to the Doncaster district superintendent’s office and a job in the passenger-train section. The following summer I was appointed to a low-grade summer relief stationmaster post and this was extended throughout the following winter. In practice I spent my time split between the passenger trains office and relieving stationmasters, an arrangement that the head of the office was, understandably, not over-keen on. However, it suited me splendidly, as getting involved with the sharp end of railway activity was a useful contrast with my district office job of passenger-train planning, special working and punctuality.

  I recall in the late autumn being summoned by the assistant district operating superintendent who, along with a number of other senior railway managers at that period, retained his wartime curt military manner. Somewhat like addressing a subaltern I was told to sit down, but before I could was asked, ‘Do you know where Winteringham and Winterton & Thealby are? Have you ever been there?’

  I replied, ‘Yes, sir,’ to the first question and, ‘No, sir,’ to the second.

  My orders followed, ‘Well, that is where you are going next week to cover the stationmaster’s leave. You stay in a modest hotel in Scunthorpe. Take your bike and your winter woollies.’ A grin, and, ‘It is only 8 miles to Winteringham and it gets b–– cold on the Humber. But you may get a ride on a light engine if you can persuade the assistant yardmaster. Go to Scunthorpe on Sunday so you can oversee the ferry’s departure on Monday. And while you are there, check the working at the two chutes used for coal and slag; keep an eye on the farmers and their sugar-beet traffic at Winterton, and the wagon use and demurrage charges. And I want an independent assessment of an earlier report about the future of the branch; involve the stationmaster who will be at home at the end of the week. Any questions? No? Good.’

  Barely a pause and then, ‘There is not much entertainment in Scunthorpe in the evenings apart from cinemas, pubs and the railway staff club. I want you to spend several hours in the evenings in Frodingham yard with the assistant yardmaster, yard inspectors and shunters. The yardmaster has been alerted. Fix the arrangements with him.’

  K1 Class 2-6-0 No. 62063 heads a freight trip from Frodingham to Winteringham. (Bryan Stone)

  Another pause for breath. ‘You know the working at Wath and Doncaster yards marshalling already; I want a report from you on what you find out at Frodingham – for my eyes only!’ Another grin. ‘You’re an acting, unpaid district freight inspector. Any questions? No? Off you go then.’

  I felt I should salute, about turn and march out. As I opened the office door the final comments were, ‘Enjoy yourself and be careful. See me in a fortnight with your reports.’

  Despite this forbidding brief the assignment proved interesting and worthwhile. In my evenings at Frodingham I learned a considerable amount about the railway’s steel operations and the arrangements with the steel companies. I did cycle to Winteringham on the Monday morning and found the bike very useful on those occasions during my assignment when I did not get a ride on a light engine or on the daily freight trip. And I also managed to get to the staff club late each evening before closing time for a drink and the inevitable quizzing as to what I was up to.

  Conniving with the yardmaster, I included in my report several train working and minor track changes that he wanted. What subsequently happened to them I do not know. There was no feedback but I always got a friendly greeting on subsequent visits to Frodingham. The line beyond Winterton was closed the following year.

  ROYAL MOMENTS

  Royal travel was always a special occasion, as Philip Benham’s experiences reveal

  Whenever members of the royal family travelled by train the local area managers had to keep a weather eye on arrangements to ensure all went to plan. If the royal person was joining or alighting at one of your stations either the area manager in person or one of his assistants had to be in attendance. Even if the royal train was merely passing through the patch, there were management tasks to perform, particularly if the train was booked to stop for a crew change, in which case a check was needed to ensure a smooth handover, and also to see that the relieving crew were suitably attired in their best uniform. Often the crew would have been specially selected, with royal duties generally highly regarded and assigned to senior men. If need be this could even be the excuse for a fresh uniform issue.

  My first involvement with the royal train as a young assistant area manager was to supervise just such a crew change at Leicester. The identity of the royal personage is lost in the mists of time but hardly mattered since the exchange was in the small hours when all sensible people including, hopefully, ‘The Principal’ (as the royal passenger was invariably referred to) would have been fast asleep. Despite all the details having being set out in a special notice issued on a ‘need to know’ basis some days before, it appeared that the one person who most definitely needed to know had not been told. This was the driver rostered to take the train forward from Leicester. When he arrived for duty his appearance was, let us just say, less than ideal, with no tie or even a proper jacket. With the earnestness of youth I let him know in no uncertain terms what I thought. His response suggested he was not a royalist as he expressed his opinion about the royal train, idiot managers and me in particular before threatening to book off duty. Fortunately the depot supervisor came to my rescue with an apology to the driver, explaining that he had not been told beforehand, and a spare tie and a jacket. Honour was saved and I learned a lesson in staff diplomacy.

  The next royal encounter was more personal when, as area manager, I had to escort HRH Princess Anne on to a train at York in 1983. This was a private journey and she was joining a normal InterCity 125 High Speed Train for King’s Cross. Unfortunately the train was running late and, as she was travelling alone, I had to keep the Princess entertained for about half an hour, including finding somewhere private for her to wait. Fortunately I was able to commandeer my assistant’s office close to where the train would arrive, but what to talk about, as the Princess’s plainclothes policeman had decided to leave me to it. I need not have worried for, of course, members of the royal family spend their lives talking to people. This was during Princess Anne’s competitive horse-riding days and I recall learning quite a bit about eventing and show jumping.

  The train finally arrived and as it departed, my duties complete, I walked back down the platform with the local BT police inspector, Brian Mennell. As the rear-power car roared past us, the platform supervisor remarked that he had just seen a passenger get into the rear of the train carrying what looked like a rifle. Br
ian reacted with horror but also instantly used his radio to alert the policeman on the train. Enquiries were made and it transpired that an American gentleman was off on the next stage of his fishing holiday!

  Princess Anne came to York station again in 1985, but this was to be an altogether more prestigious affair. The centrepiece of her visit was the naming of a High Speed Train (HST) power car Royal Signals, a regiment of which I believe she was commander-in-chief. General Manager Frank Paterson officiated at the naming ceremony, with my supporting role being to present the Princess with a model of the named HST. Also present was the Lady Mayoress for York, Ruth Milner, whose father William had been killed searching for first-aid supplies while serving as a foreman at York station on the night of the ‘Baedeker’ air raid in 1942. Ruth had unveiled a commemorative plaque on the station the previous year. After the formal ceremony Frank invited the Princess to meet the two drivers. As Frank recalls, one quipped that he had lost a lot of money backing one of her mother’s horses the previous week, to which the Princess replied, ‘More fool you for wasting your money!’ A very happy meeting then followed with station and area staff in the intimate setting of The Oak Room of the Royal York Hotel.

  There were various other royal duties during my time at York, including a visit to Hull by the Prince and Princess of Wales using the royal train. The train duly arrived at Paragon station, but the Prince and Princess had separate engagements and it was Charles who alighted first. As always he was very enthusiastic about his journey overnight on the train, which had gone well. A short while later Diana left the train. She too was very polite and friendly, but had evidently not enjoyed the journey as much. ‘We only use the train because Charles is a rail buff,’ she said.

  My move to be area manager at King’s Cross in 1986 would lead to even more royal meetings. When the royal train was being used for an official royal visit, a regular routine would be for the train to leave the relevant London station late the previous evening, travelling through the night hours. Often en route the train would be stabled at a suitably quiet spot some distance from the final destination before completing the final stage of the journey to arrive at the appointed hour. Protocol demanded that the area manager or his deputy should attend the departure.

  Given the status of King’s Cross as the starting point for much of the eastern side of England and Scotland, such royal journeys were a regular occurrence. As a result I met most members of the royal family, with the formalities often much more relaxed at such late hours of the night. This was particularly so with the younger royals, who would often arrive from an evening ‘engagement’ having clearly enjoyed themselves! On occasions, timekeeping could also go slightly awry – not that the train was likely to go without them.

  During this period I had one royal appointment that was not to be. The Prince of Wales was scheduled to return from up country by royal train to King’s Cross early on the morning of 16 October 1987. I had booked into the Great Northern Hotel at King’s Cross for an early night in order to be on hand to greet the Prince at the appointed hour. Some hours later my pager went off (this being before the advent of mobile phones) and drowsily I leant out to put on the bedside light, but to no effect. I then became aware of a loud shrieking sound. Stumbling out of bed in the pitch black I made for the window to look out across a London in almost total darkness. My first thought was that perhaps war had broken out, but I soon realised that the noise was the wind, for this was the night of the ‘Great Storm’ that devastated much of southern England.

  Having negotiated my way from the hotel room, I entered an eerily dark King’s Cross station where only the red signal lamps at the platform ends, on standby power, were illuminated. I made my way to our Control Office in the West Side offices that was lit, somewhat appropriately, by a single hurricane lamp. Here the night duty controller had just had a call from his wife to say they had lost half the roof on their house! With a mixture of trees and overhead lines down in more than a dozen places, it was obvious that trains would not be going anywhere for some time. The next few hours were interesting to say the least, as gradually the winds eased and our engineering colleagues put the railway back together. In the midst of all this was the royal train attempting to make its way back to the capital. Eventually we got the train to Potters Bar where, after several hours and with winds abating slightly, it was deemed safe to rescue HRH by car.

  Where the monarch herself was concerned, matters remained rather more formal and timekeeping was always precise. The logistics of one such journey, when both the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh were travelling, are etched in my memory. To allow direct road access close to the royal train, the practice at King’s Cross was for it to normally depart from Platform 1 adjoining the cab rank road that existed before construction of the modern-day Platform ‘0’ (an apparent nonsense imposed by the need to avoid major changes to signalling designations). The Queen would usually arrive at the station in a large limousine that, although a magnificent vehicle, had a poor turning circle. So in order to avoid having to do a U-turn out of York Way (the road that runs down the east side of King’s Cross station) standing instructions to the royal chauffeur were to always arrive from the northern end of York Way, allowing an easy turn into the ramped access road down to the cab rank. Perhaps it was a relief chauffeur or a mistake by the police, but, for whatever reason, on this particular night the royal car arrived along York Way from the wrong direction, leaving the chauffeur with no choice but to negotiate the U-turn on to the cab rank access road. The inevitable happened and the limousine had to go backwards and forwards several times to make the turn. When the royal car had finally made it, the Duke was not happy and expressed his opinion in no uncertain terms. I was left in no doubt that it was the railway’s fault for not having a better-designed station!

  A happier memory is of a civic visit by the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh to commemorate the 750th anniversary of Peterborough cathedral. Peterborough was towards the northern end of my ‘patch’ and as it was only 76 miles from London it was not considered necessary to use the royal train. Instead the Queen and the Duke would travel in a reserved coach on a scheduled InterCity service from King’s Cross. Through the kindness of Charles Swift, one of our drivers and also council leader for the City of Peterborough, my wife Lesley and I were not only to be presented to Her Majesty in the line-up at Peterborough station, but also to attend the civic luncheon that followed. Having only got married a month earlier, to be able to invite my new bride to lunch with the Queen was rather special.

  There was to be just one slight and amusing sting in the tail. As I was to be in the line-up at Peterborough, I could not oversee the departure or even the arrival, so my deputy David Sutcliffe would do the honours at King’s Cross and Station Manager Peter Keys would welcome Her Majesty on arrival at Peterborough. This being an ordinary train, there was no red carpet to worry about; the train arrived right on time and all appeared to be well. As the royal party proceeded down the line, there was a glimmer of recognition from the Duke of Edinburgh.

  ‘You’re railway aren’t you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Your Royal Highness,’ I replied, wondering what was coming next.

  ‘Those trucks,’ he said, referring to a rake of parcels vans that had been placed on the adjoining line as a security screen. ‘Get them cleaned!’

  Judging by the look the Queen gave the Duke she was ‘not amused’ by the joke.

  Fast forward a quarter of a century to 2013 where, during a hot summer, there had been a number of lineside fires caused by steam engines working special trains on Network Rail. As chairman of the Friends of the Museum I was in the National Railway Museum at York for the arrival of the Prince of Wales on the footplate of the A4 Class locomotive Bittern. The event was the bringing together of the six surviving A4 streamlined Pacifics to commemorate the 75th anniversary of the world speed record by one of them: Mallard. The museum director, Paul Kirkman, introduced me to the Prince, explaining my role to him and t
elling him that I was also managing director of the steam-worked North Yorkshire Moors Railway. The Prince expressed an interest in what I was doing now and the subject of steam engines and fires came up. I commented that because our railway passes through moorland, much of which belongs to the Duchy of Lancaster, we have to be careful not to set fire to his land. The Prince replied, ‘No, that’s not mine, the Lancaster lands belong to the Monarch!’

  The royal train at Hull Paragon station after carrying the Prince and Princess of Wales. (Philip Benham)

  Nowadays the royal train itself seems to venture out less and less from its home at Wolverton in Buckinghamshire. This seems a shame as it brings an element of splendour and ceremony to the railway in an age when trains can seem rather bland. Long may it survive.

  MERSEYSIDE REFLECTIONS

  Jan Glasscock went to Merseyside during a period of major change and challenge

  In September 1983 I moved from being Operating Officer West Coast South at Euston to the post of area manager at Liverpool. This was a new post as the Liverpool and Garston areas were to be combined that December. Fortunately, most of the consultation and appointments work had been done, so my initial task was to bring about the merger without detrimental effect on the operational railway. With the help of the two retiring area managers this task was completed on schedule with no major problems in the new area, which inherited some 800 staff.