Birthday present , from the family. Sometimes it’s useful to be predictable. For over 50 years, I have loved steam engines…confession, I used to trainspot fervently; I was not a dabbler. For three years, 12 – 14 , any pocket money I raised was saved for trips, to various parts of England, usually on a Sunday – To the engine sheds or junctions, where we fastidious spotters could track down exotic engines called Mallard, or, King George V, depending on what , to use today’s term, ” network” , we were enamoured of. As Bham New Street’ s approach tunnels were so low, none of the great Pacific locomotives could access the platforms. Deprivation, being my state of grace, I had to travel, to see the great engines. As far as York, or Bristol , wherever .
Elsewise, regular travels to Tamworth, on a Saturday, where we had the LMS line traversing the Trent Valley line; best of both worlds. Though, nothing replicated the shout of “Pegs in the Main”‘, as a 4-6-2,Stanier hurtled through on the Trent Valley.Mum’s egg & cress sandwiches to devour, enjoying the place. Ought to say ,I am not apologising for being a “trainspotter” – still am – it opened up England to me, and our industrial heritage . Allowed me to travel anywhere in the Uk, at thirteen years,.Nothing compares – X Box ? No wonder Santa is laughing his cock off.
Two “Black” Fives pulling us along, down and up the Lickey Incline. Both with 65 c plates, on the front, which meant that originally, their home shed was Fort William!
The journey was made all the more interesting , by the informative booklet, supplied by the company, The Railway Touring Company, giving background detail of the route, plus timings and gradients…also, ghostly ,passing places of stations, closed long ago.
Nothing ethereal about the refreshments, breakfast, and later mulled wine and mince pies , first of the season for me and fittingly, on the first Sunday of Advent. Tea, on the return journey was good, too.
There was a timely stop at Hereford, allowing time for photos of these now, nearly 80 years old, magnificent engines.
Can’t ever remember travelling First Class, before, but it was fun; used to Cattle Class, on airlines, that should not remain nameless. No prizes.
Cardiff was a revelation . My foggy memories of the Welsh capital are blurred by well drunken visits to rugby internationals and none of them, that recently. On leaving Central Station, the atmosphere was European, cafes and Victorian arcades, pedestrians to the fore.
Lunch at Bill’s, a small , growing chain of restaurants , that does what it says on the tin.
Bus out to Tiger Bay and the waterfront makeover – magnificent, memories of Cape Town. The very helpful guy, in the excellent tourist office , Said that you would not come down here, in the 70s / 80s, which explains my comment to my good friend David Condon, before a matc then , when we were driven there :- ” Is this the arse – end of Cardiff ? What a redemption.
It was getting dark, the photos don’t do it justice, but I included them because even on a greyish afternoon, it was more than impressive and this was merely a whistlestop tour. Will be back, if only to eat at The Bosphorous Turkish restaurant !
“I like trains. I like their rhythm, and I like the freedom of being suspended between two places, all anxieties of purpose taken care of: for this moment I know where I am going.”
― Anna Funder, Stasiland: Stories from Behind the Berlin Wall
Long train running the doobie brothers.
Thanks to the Family for an imaginative and enjoyable railway journey.
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