Real Railway Tales E-Book

Geoff Body

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 266

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Running a railway is a complex business, constantly throwing up drama, misadventure and the unexpected. Geoff Body and Bill Parker have collated a rich selection of railwaymen's memories and anecdotes to create an enjoyable book of escapades and mishaps, illustrating the daily obstacles faced on the railways, from handling the new Eurostar to train catering, nights on the Tay Bridge to rail 'traffic cops', and from mystery derailments to track subsidence. However interesting the infrastructure of the large and varied railway business may be, the real heart of this great industry lies in its people, the complex jobs they occupy and the dedicated way in which they carry them out.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Title

Introduction, Sources and Acknowledgements

Cold Relief at Derby (Philip Benham)

Lighter Moments (Jim Gibbons)

Highdyke (Bryan Stone)

Quick Thinking at Wimbledon (Theo Steel)

A Small Empire (Geoff Body and Bill Parker)

Shove-Ha’penny (Alex Bryce)

Tickets, Please (Terry Worrall)

A Poor Investment (David Ward)

What’s in a Nickname? (Bill Robinson)

‘The Yorkie’s in the Cupboard’ (Basil Tellwright and Geoff Body)

Trainferry Dilemma (David Jagoe)

Booking Clerk at Histon (Derek Clark)

Forgotten Collar (Philip Benham)

Under the Bowler Hat (Bill Parker)

Nights on the Tay Bridge (Jim Dorward)

Happy Families 1992 (Terry Worrall)

From Junior Typist to Chairman’s PA via Land’s End and John o’Groats (Margaret Ritchie)

Rail Traffic Cops (Philip Benham)

West of England (Geoff Body)

The Mobile Command Post (Philip Benham)

Lincolnshire and Dr Beeching (Bryan Stone)

A Stroke of Luck at Milngavie Junction (Hugh Gould)

Eurostar Story (Peter Whitaker)

Ship Ahoy (Jim Summers)

Area Movements Inspector (Chris Blackman)

More Bowler Hats (Geoff Briggs, Jan Glasscock and Jim Summers)

The Awakening (David Jagoe)

Who Are You Anyway? (Terry Worrall)

Robbing Peter (Philip Benham)

Royal Recall (Harold Forster)

Earl Mountbatten’s Funeral Train (Mike Phillips)

Fox and Blocks (Geoff Body)

Willesden Carriage Sidings (Chris Blackman)

Willesden New Line (Chris Blackman)

Unfamiliar Territory (Chris Blackman)

Double Derailment (Peter Thomas)

Thundersley (Theo Steel)

Track Subsidence (Jim Dorward)

Show and Tell (Peter Spedding)

The Finance Manager (Nick Wood)

The Denton Branch (Bryan Stone)

Red Nose Day (David Crathorn)

‘Get Rid of It’ (Cedric Spiller)

Cardiff Freight 1967-71 (David Jagoe)

A Tale of Two Branches (Bryan Stone)

Train Catering (Theo Steel)

We are Sorry that Trains are being Delayed due to Adverse Weather Conditions (Jim Gibbons)

‘I Have No Coal’ (Terry Worrall)

The Mystery of Haxby Up Distant (Philip Benham)

Southern Wanderings (Peter Thomas and Don Love)

Derailment on Rannoch Moor (Jim Dorward)

Broad Street Terminus (Chris Blackman)

Taking the Marks (Chris Blackman)

The Black Mac (Chris Blackman)

DI Dad (Gerry Orbell)

The Euston Backing-out Roads (Chris Blackman)

An Arresting Scene (Jim Summers)

Barging In (Geoff Body)

Guarding the Fife Coast Express (Hugh Gould)

Closure Challenge (Bill Parker)

Mrs Carter’s Last Goodbye (Mike Lamport)

The Last Journey (Geoff Body)

Glossary

Copyright

INTRODUCTION, SOURCESAND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The truth may or may not be stranger than fiction, but it can certainly be strange, humorous, dramatic, and fascinating. At least, that is what the editor and compiler have again found in putting together this, the third book of stories from railway careers of every sort and function. We also have a strong conviction that, however interesting the infrastructure of the large and varied railway business may be, the real heart of this great industry lies in its people, the complex jobs they have occupied and the dedicated way they have carried them out.

The book contains a few experiences of our own but, for the most part, relies on the enthusiasm and effort of its generous contributors. Stalwarts from previous volumes, like Bryan Stone and Philip Benham, have once more done us proud and we have been able to add the prolific Willesden area tales of Chris Blackman, and those of Terry Worrall. Jim Dorward and Hugh Gould have again kept Scotland in the picture, David Jagoe has provided the Welsh entries, Theo Steel has sent further copy on slightly way-out subjects and Margaret Ritchie has recorded an astounding journey from trainee typist to chairman’s personal assistant. The full list of contributors is shown with the contents details and we are extremely grateful to each and every one.

Our sources are solely these valued contributors, many of whom have also supplied illustrations. These are acknowledged with the captions, all the others coming from the Geoffrey Body Collection.

We hope readers will enjoy these tales as much as they clearly did those in Signal Box Coming Up, Sir and Along Different Lines.

Authors’ note: Sadly, Margaret Ritchie died between submitting her contribution and publication of this book.

COLD RELIEFAT DERBY

When Philip Benham started his railway career he was told that he would ‘learn best on the job’ which proved very true, but sometimes quite uncomfortable

The transition from school to work can be quite a shock to the system. For me it came on 4 September 1968 when I started work in the Nottingham Division of British Railways as a ‘traffic student’. This was a training programme for school leavers aimed at giving a general grounding in railway work. For those who did well there was the prospect of moving up the promotional ladder, or even management training, although nothing was guaranteed.

Day one started with a welcome from ‘Colonel’ Gardiner, the redoubtable Nottingham Divisional Manager, an encounter that lasted all of two minutes – such interviews became renowned for their brevity in which hapless trainees discovered the error of their ways. Then it was off to Derby, where I was placed under the wing of Area Manager Harry Potts and told that I would learn best as a relief clerk covering whatever job needed doing.

First was a spell as assistant controller in ‘A’ signal box, situated under the footbridge in the middle of Derby Midland station. Steam traction had just ended, but in other respects Derby was still very much the old railway. ‘A Box’ controlled the train movements through the station, including those through the crossovers which switched trains between platforms – useful if vehicles were blocking one end of one of these. It was relatively modern, having replaced an older signal box when the station was rebuilt around 1953 after war damage. To the north and south, Derby Station North and London Road Junction boxes controlled entrance to the station. Further north still, Derby Junction box routed trains ‘round the corner’ to Derby South Junction and Chaddesden Sidings, while Derby North Junction controlled the third side of the triangle from Chaddesden. Within a mile of Derby station there were no less than ten manual signal boxes. In less than a year they would all be gone, replaced by the new Derby Power Signal Box. ‘A Box’ would survive as an inspector’s office, and today looks to be the only bit of the 1950s station still standing.

The routes and signal boxes at Derby in 1968. (Philip Benham)

The assistant controller’s job was to keep local signal boxes advised about the running of trains, these ranging as far out as Burton-on-Trent, Clay Cross and Trent. This was important so that signalmen knew whether or not they had sufficient margin to run a slower freight train without delaying higher category passenger and parcels services. They would soon shout if a report was missed as a ‘please explain’ could follow if an express was delayed.

I was given a week on each shift. The work was ‘round the clock’ so the joys of night work were experienced for the first time. (Why does time pass so much more slowly between 3 and 5 a.m.?) The main tools of the trade were ‘roneoed’ (printed) sheets showing the scheduled passing and arrival times for trains through the area, on to which the actual times were recorded, and a large telephone concentrator for receiving and making calls. Most signal boxes were on ‘omnibus’ telephone circuits, which meant that everyone could listen to all conversations. Individual signal boxes were called using ring codes and the trick was to develop ‘controller’s ear’ to listen to several conversations at once and never miss hearing your own ring code.

With over 200 trains a day the job was always busy, but the real fun came when things went wrong.

I arrived one morning to find all the signalling to the north was out of order due to the theft of signalling cable and trains were being worked under the ‘time interval’ system. A hectic morning followed, with trains queuing up as the morning peak progressed, but the Signal & Telegraph lads were on the job and by midday all was back to normal. The repair team duly retired for a well-earned brew only to find that, while in their mess hut, the thieves had returned and stolen the new cable! The problem of cable theft that dogs the modern railway is by no means new.

After a few months I was moved to other work and covered all sorts of jobs, from booking clerk to train announcer. This first winter of work included a particularly cold spell which gave me what I still regard as my worst ever job, that of ‘sheeting’ parcels. This was done at Derby St Andrews, adjoining the passenger station and originally a goods depot for the London & North Western Railway, but by now given over to parcels’ traffic. Sheeting involved recording on to large sheets details of received parcels, including the delivery address, as a porter sorted them into road delivery rounds. The sheets would then be used by the delivery van drivers to plan their rounds and obtain delivery signatures. The mail order business was in full swing at this time and made up the bulk of the hundreds of parcels received off the overnight trains.

In wintry conditions, a Nottingham-bound diesel multiple unit passes Derby Junction signal box under clear signals. (Philip Benham)

This was night work and, with temperatures that winter often sub-zero, frozen fingers made it all but impossible to hold a pen (or, more often, a pencil as pens failed in the cold), let alone write legibly. The mess facilities were basic, but at least were warm and the tea always hot. As the minutes to the next break ticked slowly by, the mess-room image danced in the imagination like some Shangri-La. For years to come the names of the mail order companies like Grattan and Littlewoods were enough to send a shudder of recollection down my spine.

It was a relief when I was transferred to learn the job of goods guards’ clerk at Chaddesden Sidings. Once a major marshalling yard, Chaddesden’s role had reduced following closure of the Midland route to Manchester a few months before, but several trains still called and a couple of shunting engines were kept occupied.

The clerk worked in the yardmaster’s office, with the main task being the rostering of guards to specific trains. A good roster clerk requires skills that must rank with those needed by any foreign diplomat. Tact, good humour, fairness and, above all, powers of persuasion, are among the vital attributes. Since I was covering the job for only a short time, how the guards really felt about ‘this young whippersnapper’ I can only imagine, but I was treated with unfailing good humour and kindness. As everywhere, there were some real characters. One, Guard Kirk, still proudly wore his Wyvern cap badge, reflecting the fact that he had started work on the Midland Railway. Another, who had worked on the Settle & Carlisle line back in the war, still claimed to ‘sign the road’ to Glasgow – a dubious claim because you were supposed to work over a route every six months to retain route knowledge.

I was not yet done with the cold. My time at Chaddesden corresponded with the worst of the winter snow. The yard supervisor thought I should learn about clearing snow from points and signals, so yet another cold job. A device I became familiar with was a steam lance, used for thawing snow and ice, and fitted to the locomotive steam pipe. This worked well initially, but in sub-zero temperatures the steam could rapidly condense and freeze, sometimes leaving more ice than before.

After eighteen months I moved on to the divisional office. Learning on the job had proved invaluable and I have cause to thank the many railwaymen and women who gave me such a good grounding.

LIGHTER MOMENTS

Among the daily catalogue of serious railway decisions and actions, Jim Gibbons experienced a few lighter moments

PURSER’S URGENT MESSAGE

My first ‘outside’ appointment was as summer season assistant at the Channel port of Folkestone. Luckily, I was warned by a previous occupant of a trap which might be set for an unwary newcomer. A member of the station staff would say to the new manager that the purser of the ferry lying alongside needed to speak to the station manager urgently. The manager would then respond by hastening to board the ship and look for the purser. On finding him eventually and asking what he wanted, the railway representative would be told, ‘I’m not looking for you; never have been.’

On making his way back to the gangway wondering what it was all about, the hapless manager would then see the ferry was, by this time, on its way to France. On his return some hours later, his boss would want to know where the hell he had been all day!

THE CHEF’S MIXED GRILL

My first ‘real’ operating job was the preparation of the weekly engineering works notice, known on the Southern as the ‘P/EW’. This involved a weekly visit to the district civil engineer’s office to collect the forthcoming track possession requests and agree the previous week’s possessions, which had been published as a draft notice.

The office concerned was housed in 1940s wooden huts and, being totally self-sufficient, included a canteen, which I used. This was run by two people who, whilst looking like platelayers (i.e. tough macho types), produced very good meals. However, while ‘learning the job’ with my predecessor, I was strongly advised not to try the mixed grill.

Several weeks later, I was in the lunch queue when somebody ordered the said mixed grill. The ‘chef’ reached upwards and grasped the handle of a huge frying pan on the top of a cupboard. Immediately and dramatically a cat, which was curled up, fast asleep and out of sight, leaped out and made its escape. I also had quite an escape!

THE DAY WAR BROKE OUT

At one time, one of my divisional inspectors had had a previous career in the army and was on the reserve list when the Falkland Islands were invaded. He was a little concerned that he might be recalled for military service and one of the deputy chief controllers (DCCs) knew this. At that time the uniform hat issue for station managers and inspectors was the traditional peaked cap with a large flat top, and the inspector in question was of a tall, thin build.

The control deputy put out a general call for ‘Inspector X to contact the DCC urgently in respect of the Falklands conflict’. The inspector did so, fearing the worst, only to be advised that he was required for the conflict because ‘he and his hat were required for service as a helicopter landing pad!’

KEEPING COSTS DOWN

Most railway offices operated a ‘tea club’ on a co-operative basis and relied on one person to buy the provisions and collect a weekly charge from the participants. One such club I belonged to was run by a very cost-conscious person, who kept meticulous accounts.

Because the office concerned worked a fair amount of overtime the ‘Tea Master’ circulated members, pointing out the financial implications of those working early and late making additional cups of tea. This must have seemed to someone a step too far, for when the tea club supremo arrived at work the next morning there was a length of string across the office with a host of used tea bags clipped to it ‘drying’!

A SECOND VISIT

My first appointment as an area manager was in a South London area and one of my first actions was to tour the stations under my control. I was talking to the people working at one of these and was asked by one of the platform staff whether I would be around on the following day. I explained that with some thirty stations in the area, I could not visit them all on a daily basis.

‘Oh,’ my questioner replied, ‘only I won’t be around tomorrow. I’m having a “comp” day.’

A comp day was a day’s compensatory time allowed away additional to the normal leave rostered and earned for working on a public holiday. The conversation then continued:

‘Are you going somewhere nice?’

‘I’m going to France.’

‘Very nice. Have you been before?’

‘Oh yes; and the last time they made us jump off the boat.’

‘Good Lord! Jump off the boat? When was that?’

‘1944.’

Talk about walking into it! I had just not seen that coming.

HIGHDYKE

Easton, Colsterworth, Stainby and Sproxton were not well-known railway locations, but Bryan Stone reveals something of their considerable activity and importance

Some 400yd north of the country end of Stoke Tunnel there are some gentle humps which the East Coast passenger will scarcely notice. This was once the connection to the Highdyke branch, a place of lonely legend, where many Grantham railwaymen wrestled with enormous traffic volumes, heavy gradients, elderly engines, single lines, and long hours, while their colleagues on the Pacifics were still doing the glamorous stuff along the main line. Today it’s all gone, so this is a good place to remember days spent up there.

Grantham was a main line ‘staging post’ with station, shed and the Nottingham, Lincoln and Sleaford branches. The station and yard were alive in the 1950s with main line expresses, gleaming Pacifics and engine changing, and with branch trains slipping in and out. There was main line freight too, often fully braked high-speed services for fish, Scotch goods and so on. And several times a day, a travel-stained 2-8-0 would set off ‘light engine’ to the south, or lift a load of empty tipplers, and disappear away towards the Great North Road Bridge. Again, one of these great engines, a 3-cylinder Class O2, one of Gresley’s lesser known masterpieces, would clatter through on a heavy load of ironstone, off north to the junction at Barkston and the Lincolnshire Wolds beyond.

Diagram of the Highdyke iron ore branch line in Lincolnshire. (Jim Dorward)

Now, first, a confession: Grantham and Highdyke were not in my division, which stopped short just outside Grantham station. It was King’s Cross territory, but that ironstone originating on the Highdyke branch was a pillar of our Frodingham steelworks business so I had been several times to look around, before Grantham shed closed and the steam workings stopped.

There was no station at Highdyke. The name of the signal box came from Ermine Street, the ‘High Dyke’ of the Roman road, crossed here on its way to Lincoln. The way to get there was on an engine or brake van. Remoteness – though it was only 4 miles south of Grantham – required seeking the cryptic entries in the Freight Working Timetable of the East Coast Main Line which showed ‘EBV’, i.e. engine and brake van, Grantham–Highdyke and back. These ran when the shifts changed, to carry shunters, guards and locomen. They were worked by anything convenient at Grantham shed, an L1 or A5 off the branches, for example, for the booked twelve minutes’ ride. The pilot engines, those great O2s, ran up and down light or with brake vans, and a lift on a booked ironstone working was also possible.

K3 2-6-0 locomotive No. 61829 heads an Up freight train past Highdyke signal box and sidings on the East Coast Main Line. (Bryan Stone)

A view from the brake van of a train of empty iron-ore wagons heading up the Highdyke–Stainby branch. (Bryan Stone)

So what was it all about? Britain’s industry of coal and iron, and then steel, needed raw materials. One of these was iron ore, and ironworks were first built where it could be dug up; Frodingham, on the Doncaster–Grimsby route, was one such place. Since iron ore was to be found in many places in the Lincolnshire Wolds, there had been extensive mines, but it was often poor stuff, and varied in impurities. Before the First World War, demand for steel for ships and armaments, railways and construction had pushed the old ways aside and new huge steelworks were built. That, in turn, meant using more and better ironstone, brought from further away. Highdyke was in the business, for there nature had provided, under the hills about halfway from Grantham to Melton Mowbray, a huge deposit of siliceous iron ore rock. A branch to Stainby built in 1915 was extended with short branches by the Appleby-Frodingham Steel Company in 1916.

A trainload of iron ore nears Highdyke. The brake van has been detached and will run by gravity into a separate siding. (Bryan Stone)

Names like Stainby, Sproxton and Colsterworth now became more familiar – great open mines where the steelworks’ own locomotives served the shovels and gave loads to BR. These I saw being made into branch trains by the two pilots. You went up with a trip from Highdyke Yard, a place where shunting was ingeniously done mainly by train engines, pilots, and gravity, of which, on a hill and with steep gradients, there was a lot. By my time there was no branch timetable, the two pilots making trips as required, which meant being hard at it all day. Electric token operation was in use from Highdyke to Sproxton using Tyers No. 6 tablet working on the first section to Colsterworth and having a token exchange cabin on the final portion. The Stainby branch was worked under One Engine in Steam regulations, i.e. only one train was permitted on the branch at a time, although operational methods over the whole branch were modified from time to time. The pilot locomotives had tablet catchers, but they told me this was a menace and firemen preferred to exchange by hand.

The trip had its excitement. Trains were all loose coupled; I see from my notes that we took up thirty empties, some 200 tons, but the grade leaving the transfer sidings at Highdyke was 1 in 40, straight off the yard. The trick was to take a run from the empty sidings behind the box, go hell-for-leather for the bank and come out three-quarters of a mile later on a level plateau, at walking pace. This is beautifully caught, by the way, on a Transacord recording of that time.

From this point westwards, there was a see-saw of at worst 1 in 40, a lot of 1 in 60, all the way to Colsterworth Sidings and Skillington Road. Handling trains was an art, if the guard (and the train) were to survive without breaking things. That bank out of Highdyke was also a potential menace for breakaways, ending up next to the East Coast Main Line. In the other direction, the worst uphill was 1 in 60, but getting down the 1 in 40 with twelve wagons of ore, about 400 tons gross, was the issue. The Appendix to the Working Timetable gave instructions to stop at the Stop-Board above Highdyke, to pin down brakes, and uncouple the brake van. I noticed on different occasions that about half the brakes (six out of twelve wagons) were pinned down. The driver would bring the train into the loaded sidings, the van came down by gravity to an empty road, and there we were, ready for the next lot.

The loads were re-marshalled into full trains at Highdyke for the long haul, most to Frodingham, some to Stanton (Colwick motive power worked them) and one or two to Parkgate, Aldwarke and further afield. Booked loads left Highdyke in 1959, at 00.28, 03.42, 06.46, 20.36, 22.50; that is five booked trains, nearly 4,000 tons of ore, each weekday. In 1964, by which time they were diesel-hauled with a ‘fitted head’ (i.e. some train braking, Class 7*), there were six daily trains of ore to Barnetby for trip working to the steelworks. At Highdyke the trips on the branch were matched to the making up of the scheduled block trains, and also the supply of incoming empties. By the time I got there, the wagons were no longer hoppers, but 27-ton tipplers, a rudimentary steel bin on four wheels, but the springs and bearings gave away the fact that they were quite tough. Seeing them being loaded by excavator was not for the faint-hearted! Brakes were the classic side hand lever, pinned down as needed.

At Skillington Road Class 02 locomotive No. 63932 will draw its twelve loaded tippler wagons on to the single line for the guard to drop his van on to the train by gravity. (Bryan Stone)

Highdyke signal box was only a few feet from the busy East Coast Main Line and the signalmen there certainly had their hands full. They controlled the two-track access to Stoke Tunnel as well as dealing with the conflicting movements of ironstone trains, mineral empties and light engine movements. They virtually managed the movement activity along the branch. This would all have been for under £10 a week. But, the staff in places like this were always remarkable, planning moves ahead with all the skill of a seasoned chess player, and we learned to respect them.

I saw all this when Highdyke was noisy, smoky, industrious and the staff tired and hard-pressed, struggling with rain and wind, steep hills, handbrakes, dirty fires and worn locomotive big ends, shunting and pulling the levers, sending literally millions of tons every year to the steelworks. About five and a half hours it took to Frodingham, but often longer; another story is the level crossings in Lincoln where the ironstone trains reversed, stopping the town traffic some ten times a day, and filling the local papers with comment.

Scunthorpe and Frodingham received 2.8 million tons of ironstone in 1955, but the works also dug as much locally in their own mines. They also received about 2.6 million tons of coal and coke. The Frodingham end I knew better.

The Achilles heel was, apart from the decline of the steel industry, that by 1960 the inefficiency of the rail movement was obvious; more than three-quarters of what was dug, shunted and hauled around was rock, coming out of the processing eventually as slag. Ores landed at Immingham, Swedish or South American, were over 70 per cent iron; Lincolnshire’s was not. It had to end. The East Coast trains fly past now on plain track.

Geoff Body adds:

Bryan’s words brought back my own memories of the Highdyke-Stainby branch. For a start I had a family connection as my father, who had started work on the railway at nearby Great Ponton in 1916 at the tender age of 13, became a fully fledged male clerk when he was later sent to Stainby. Now 18, his new rate of pay was £80 a year and for the first time was sufficient to cover the lodgings he had to take with one of the Stainby signalmen, a man Dad called ‘quite a card’.

When the Highdyke branch became part of my own commercial responsibility as Freight Sales Officer for the King’s Cross Division I made a visit there with District Inspector Peter Keys in May 1965. Peter had been a signalman at the small Skillington Road Junction box at the tender age of 17. He later wrote his own memories of the branch, including some disastrous experiments with snow clearance in the winter of 1946–47 using an aircraft jet engine strapped to a railway wagon. It certainly cleared the snow, but also set fire to anything combustible in the vicinity and blasted the track all over the place.

My trip from Highdyke was with a load of empties behind a Brush diesel. Approaching Colsterworth North sidings, the wagons were held on brakes on the slope down to the siding points while the diesel came off the front and moved into the siding itself. The points were then reset, the wagons allowed to run down the approach slope and up the other side of the dip and, again, braked there. The Brush then emerged from the siding to climb the approach slope and be reunited with the empties which made their second trip of the see-saw to rejoin it and finally be propelled back into the loading sidings.

The mining activity was intense and fascinating, mostly with a huge 25-ton grab removing the surface layer to allow smaller machines to lift the iron ore and load it ready for rail movements. Easton mine differed, and was an underground operation involving blasting out tunnels, pumping out the resultant sludge and then mining between adjacent shafts. Conveyors elevated the mined ore for the overhead loading of wagons at 600 tons an hour. Although ankle-deep in sludge at the tunnel face, I would not have missed this dramatic encounter with one of my freight client’s business.

Bill Parker, too, had a responsibility for the Highdyke–Stainby line when he was the district inspector at Peterborough in the 1950s. Whereas some of his other obligatory branch line visits – to Ramsey, Fletton or Stamford – were quite restful, the Highdyke branch was a hive of activity, exciting and only saved from being dangerous by the professionalism of the railwaymen who worked there. Bill comments:

Despite the hair-raising shunting and train working arrangements on the severe gradients, I recall only one instance of a runaway during my tenure. Eight loaded wagons of ore collided and became derailed, producing a heaped mess of wagon parts and ore to be cleared up. It was on those occasions, particularly in remote areas, when the superb fry-ups in the breakdown vans were really appreciated!

QUICK THINKINGAT WIMBLEDON

Theo Steel uses his grandfather’s notes to describe the rather unusual beginning to an Indian potentate’s visit

In 1925 the Maharaja of Jodhpur brought his household with him on a visit to this country, along with his fifty polo ponies. My grandfather was engaged by the Maharaja’s bankers, Coutts, to manage the visit. Among his tasks was to prepare a house in Wimbledon ready for the party’s arrival; no small task for it involved carrying out structural alterations to create a ‘Zenana’ – special quarters for those in purdah. Grandfather’s 1974 written description of the arrival by train records:

An early interest was the delivery of several coach-built motor cars supplied by Barker & Hooper.

These consisted of a large Zenana saloon – yellow and black with large, blacked-out windows – several other Rolls Royces and a number of more modest staff cars.

The day of arrival was Easter Saturday and the party travelled from Dover to Wimbledon by special train. The ‘Concours d’Elegance’ of limousines gathered for their arrival created such a crowd that the police sent the cars back to the house to return when the train had arrived.

At this stage it was realised that no preparations had been made to convey the ladies in purdah from the train to the Zenana vehicle. Luckily there was an Austin Seven on site and the problem was solved by driving it repeatedly down the slope on to the platform and then back with the ladies crouched out of sight inside.

Apparently the Maharaja’s party did the London ‘season’ and then went up to Inverlochy Castle by special sleeper train from King’s Cross for some shooting in the autumn.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the novel solution to the Wimbledon problem my grandfather was engaged to work in Jodhpur for the Maharaja for the next twenty years, rising to become his finance minister. He did much travelling around the state in a private saloon and there is even a story that my grandmother journeyed in a cold bath in the coach to try to escape the worst of the heat!

A SMALL EMPIRE

In the 1970s one man looked after an isolated branch line that produced some valuable freight business and is remembered affectionately by both Geoff Body and Bill Parker