Punctuality was surprisingly poor. One always associates the Waterloo main line with exemplary timekeeping in the 1950s, but on this date things went badly awry, timings being already adrift by the time the survey commenced. The 1.24pm Waterloo–Salisbury hauled by the Feltham Urie ‘S15’ was 49 minutes late at Woking and clearly in trouble, with the following 1.30pm Waterloo–Bournemouth probably as far back as Hampton Court Junction, but most other down services that afternoon were between ten and twenty-five minutes late. The main note from the Railway Observer concerned a pointer to the root cause of the observed unpunctuality during the afternoon period. Two Urie ‘N15s’ seem to have fouled up the day by mid-morning. 30751 Etarre of Basingstoke shed was the engine for the 10.42 Waterloo boat-train special for Southampton Docks and apparently took 97 minutes to travel the 48 miles to Basingstoke, delaying the following West of England expresses so badly that several (34064, 35021 and 34027 on ‘ACE’ portions and 34009 on a Swanage-bound train) had to stop at Basingstoke to take water, although it was observed mid-afternoon tearing through Woking at over 80mph, whistle screaming, on a lightweight up ‘Ocean Liner Express’. The other culprit was 30739 King Leodegrance, labouring up the bank from Winchester to Roundwood Summit with a 13-coach Bournemouth–Birkenhead cross-country train which was fifty minutes late at Basingstoke. Both of these delinquents managed to stagger into Basingstoke at around the same time (12.15pm), with queues of trains behind them. One consequence was the late arrival in London of Bournemouth engines required for return diagrams and therefore either late departures or substitutions, like 30476 (off an up ‘Ocean Liner Express’) on the 3.20pm Waterloo–Bournemouth, which should have had a ‘Merchant Navy’.
On this summer Saturday the Southern Region managed to run at least thirteen ‘Ocean Liner Expresses’ — five down and eight up — in both directions running in the peak traffic flows. Unusually only one was hauled by a ‘Lord Nelson’. Nine were hauled by ‘King Arthurs’, including four by Urie engines and three of the Basingstoke ‘N15s’ (30751, 30753 and 30771) worked boat trains in both directions. Two others were headed by Light Pacifics — one a Ramsgate ‘Battle of Britain’, possibly after repair at Eastleigh, although the survey notes only refer to it being in ‘reasonable’ condition. The remaining boat train was hauled by Eastleigh’s Maunsell ‘H15’ 30476, which later graced the 3.20pm Waterloo–Bournemouth express.
A Summer Saturday at Woking, as ‘King Arthur’ No 30779 Sir Colgrevance speeds past with a relief train for Bournemouth in July 1959.
In fact ‘King Arthurs’ of all descriptions were well represented during the day, Urie 30739/47/9-51/53, ‘Eastleigh Arthurs’ Nos 30448/49/54/56/57 and ‘Scotch’ Nos 30763/65/71/73/74/79-82/88-91 all being noted by either the Charterhouse team or Ben Brooksbank. Aside from the morning problems with 30739 and 30751 — and a comment by the Fleet observer that 30774 on the 3.30pm to Bournemouth seemed to be riding like a ‘bucking bronco’ — the general impression was that they were performing very competently. 30750 on an 11-coach Ilfracombe–Waterloo train was stopped outside Woking station awaiting a path, blowing off steam furiously, and two of the meagre number of trains actually seen on-time were both ‘Arthur’-hauled — 30763 on the 5.30pm Waterloo–Bournemouth and No 30457 on the 7.9pm arrival from Bournemouth. One oddity was Urie ‘Arthur’ 30747 on an up Lymington Pier train; 4-6-0s were too long for the Lymington turntable, so where did 30747 take over? It was an Eastleigh engine, but as it was only eleven minutes late at Woking the engine change must have been enacted very smartly. Perhaps it had been sent down from Eastleigh to Lymington light-engine, already turned, following a failure of one of the rostered ‘U’ moguls.
The fastest runs were almost all by ‘Merchant Navy’ Pacifics — the six speediest all being still unrebuilt (Nos 35004/08/09/24/25/27). Four rebuilt pacifics were seen — 35018 on the 9 o’clock Waterloo–Plymouth, 35022 ex works up from Bournemouth, 35014 on the up ‘Bournemouth Belle’ and 35020 running-in on the Clapham–West of England milk empties. In fact nineteen of the thirty large Bulleids were out on Western Section metals that day. Two Light Pacifics (34037 and 34110) were flyers, although many of the others were only mediocre. Only six of the ‘Nelsons’ put in an appearance (three during the Charterhouse Railway Club observations), compared with the twenty-four ‘N15s’. The last serviceable ‘N15X’, 32331 Beattie, was in action at Basingstoke, taking over from a Western engine on a relief Birmingham–Bournemouth train. The influx of BR Standards was beginning to have a marked effect, and six of Nine Elms’ series of ‘Standard 5s’ (73110-9) were seen, including 73118 on the Ilfracombe and Torrington portions of the down ‘ACE’. They were performing competently enough but excited little comment apart from No 73113, which was noted slipping at speed passing Weybridge after accelerating from signal checks. Three of Basingstoke’s ‘Standard 4s’ (75075/78/79) were seen all on the Basingstoke–Reading route, and one from Bath S&D (!) — 75071 — which appeared on an unidentified up express with ‘258’ headcode displayed on the smokebox.
Our observers at Basingstoke took notes (although not times) of the WR-SR cross-country services, and these have been augmented by notes made by Ben Brooksbank during a journey from Waterloo to Paddington via Basingstoke and Reading. Most of these trains changed locos at Basingstoke, although a few (30739, 30765 and 30864) ran through to Oxford, and ‘Modified Halls’ Nos 7911 and 7919 ran south towards Eastleigh and Portsmouth. The Western offered one of the earliest ‘43xx’ still surviving (4375) and one of the three remaining ‘Stars’ (4061 of Stafford Road), as well as a ‘Grange’, three ‘Halls’ of the Collett series and no fewer than five Hawksworth ‘Modified Halls’, which were popular locos on WR Summer Saturday traffic.
Most of the services in the up direction were delayed approaching the junction with the Guildford and Portsmouth line at the west end of Woking, some severely. Electric services from that line and Alton were so frequent that they went unrecorded by the Woking observers. One of the earliest severely delayed up services noted was the 1.42pm Waterloo arrival from Bournemouth with a dirty Bournemouth ‘Arthur’ (30782), which managed to take 38 minutes from Fleet to Woking but was observed to be held outside Woking station for some time. 30782 was, however, going well enough past Fleet with its heavy train, and it should be noted that nearly all Bournemouth engines were noted as dirty or even ‘filthy’. Someone told me at the time that all that depot’s cleaners left to take seasonal jobs selling ice creams on the beach, but I cannot vouch for the veracity of this excuse for the state of its locomotives; all were affected, even the pacifics (except for the ex-works rebuilt No 35022). This was in contrast to most Nine Elms, Salisbury and Exmouth Junction engines, which were clean, even when high-mileage.
In fact only one up train was on time during most of the afternoon (No 35025 on the Bournemouth train, due at Waterloo at 4.14pm, closely following the late first portion of the ACE), although by early evening there were two other punctual services noted (30457 on the 7.9pm arrival from Bournemouth and 34023 on the 7.38pm arrival from Exeter). There were no punctual trains in the down direction until the 4.20pm and 4.35pm Waterloo–Bournemouth-line trains (both with Light Pacifics), the 5.30pm with 30763 and 6.30pm with 34108. The 5.0pm to Exeter with 35004 was early into Woking, but a very rowdy wedding party delayed its departure by more than ten minutes.
The survey was the brainchild of the late Philip Balkwill and his friend Conrad Natzio, and as far as I’m aware nothing similar — timing trains over a stretch of thirty miles and recording locomotive performance — has been attempted before or since.
Churchward mogul 5347 at Cardiff General on the 3.25pm stopping train to Swansea, photographed on the author’s ‘Arsenal – Cardiff City football excursion’, 11 April 1955
Tableau 4
Oxford station, November 1956
It’s cold and damp and foggy, and my room in College has a radiator that doesn’t work and a single-bar electric fire. I had a reasonable meal at lunchtime betw
een the examinations, so a sandwich and a bar of chocolate at the station will suffice. I’ve discovered that there are twenty-eight of us competing for one scholarship place, so I’ve decided that I might as well make the most of my brief sojourn here by spending my evenings watching trains rather than revising. Examinations on my knowledge of French and German language and literature were to be expected, but to write an essay on ‘Black Magic’ without any other option, as I was instructed to do earlier today, was not predictable. I know absolutely nothing about the subject except the box of chocolates of that name, so I wrote about that. It’s therefore a lost cause, so I may as well indulge my hobby.
I’ve got all evening to while away. The last exam finished at 4 o’clock, and I’m here in the murky darkness less than an hour later, so I decide that sometime this evening I’ll take a trip out to Radley and the Abingdon branch. I buy a cheap day-return ticket to Abingdon and wander onto the long up platform to see what’s about. The mist is swirling around, and I wind my long school scarf tighter around my neck and stare at the ‘61xx’ Prairie tank oozing steam at the platform with four non-corridor coaches for Thame. There are a lot of travellers huddled together on the far platform, and I can just decipher the muffled tones of the station announcer informing us of the late running of the Bournemouth–Sheffield express, now overdue by twenty minutes.
I wander down to the north end of the station and in the bay find the bulbous face of a ‘B12’ (61549) looming at me out of the mist, having arrived from Bletchley and Cambridge. There’s nothing to be seen in the bay on the down side, but the sounds of something can be heard in the distance, and a ghostly ‘King Arthur’, 30783 Sir Gillemere, draws in slowly with the late-running cross-country train. I watch as the fireman drops down and goes to uncouple the Southern engine and observe it disappear into the fog, the orange glow from the fire visible as the shape of the ‘King Arthur’ merges with the mist. For a long time nothing happens, other than the sharp exhaust beats of 6122 departing for Thame. Then I see the faint shape of a Hawksworth tender backing out of the fog and can just make out the outline of a ‘Modified Hall’, though I can’t identify it in the darkness at the far end of the station. I nip over the bridge and hurry forward, though there’s no need to rush, as the driver of 6970 Whaddon Hall is still performing the brake test. I wait there to watch its departure until all I can see is the red glow of the tail lamp fading into the opaque blackness. But I stop to listen to the exhaust of the ‘Hall’, echoing for a long time in the still night, getting fainter, then becoming more distinct for a few seconds then fading again until the only sounds are the squealing of signal wires and the clatter as the starter semaphore beside me is restored to danger.
I wander back to the up platform and buy a cheese sandwich at the cafeteria, emerging just in time to see an Old Oak engine, 5035 Coity Castle, appear out of the darkness and come to rest with a short train of former GW carriages. It’s displaying the express headcode, and to my surprise I hear the station announcer repeating that it’s for London only, emphasising the words carefully so we are left in no doubt. I move up to the engine and feel the warmth emanating from between the cab and tender and watch the fireman shovelling coal into the fire, carefully lifting the firedoor plate with his left hand each time he throws another shovelful of coal into the seething furnace. The driver looks at me shivering on the platform. ‘Want to come up and warm yourself for a few minutes? We’re not due away yet.’
I accept with alacrity and stand directly in front of the fire, for the fireman has ceased his labour and is now hosing the footplate and coal at the front of the tender to lay the dust. The driver doesn’t seem curious about my presence; he doesn’t ask me if I’m travelling to London on his train. The fireman motions me to one side and places a few more carefully directed shovels of coal into the back corners of the fire, looking at the gauge which shows the steam pressure on the red line at 225psi, as it should be. ‘Nearly time to go,’ says the driver as I hear whistles being blown, and I climb down onto the cold platform. ‘A fast one, this, just the hour to Paddington, but I doubt if we’ll make it tonight. Nothing wrong with the engine, but it’s foggy out there and worse nearer London.’ Then a short, high-pitched whistle, and Coity Castle gives a series of satisfying thumps of exhaust, and the last coach slips past into the night as the train rapidly accelerates down the gradient out of the station and past the invisible cemetery.
Even as I stand there listening to the steady ‘Castle’ exhaust increasing in a crescendo echoing in the stillness I hear a second, slower beat and just make out the pale headlamps of a heavy freight which is plodding up the slope into the centre road, an LM ‘8F’ with a long string of empty bogie bolsters destined, I presume, for somewhere in the West Midlands. The train is slowing, as the signals are against it, and the wagons buffer up as it screeches to a halt. A few minutes later there’s another approaching train from the south, and the dark outline of another ‘Castle’ slips behind the freight into the far platform, followed by a string of coaches, dimly lit. I rush back along the platform and over the footbridge because I assume this is a Worcester train that will not stay here long. In fact I needn’t have hurried, as the engine, 5083 Bath Abbey, is taking water from the column at the end of the platform. I stand in the freezing fog, trying to gain some heat from nearness of the locomotive; then whistles blow, and the driver hurriedly winds the handle to shut off the water supply while the fireman, standing atop the tender, slings the hose out, and water cascades onto the glistening platform. A green light sways in the mist back along the platform, and 5083 slips once, sets off slowly, then, a couple of coach lengths past me, bursts into a harsh exhaust as the driver opens her up. I count the coaches — ten on, but most of the passengers have alighted at Oxford, for the train is less than half full as it disappears towards Moreton-in-Marsh and Evesham.
I return to the up platform and look at my watch, wondering how soon I ought to make my way to Radley. It’s well after six o’clock now, and a train is drawing slowly into the platform — a ‘Hall’ showing the headcode for a stopping train. It draws alongside me, and I note a clean black engine with LNWR lining, 4942 Maindy Hall, bearing an 84C (Banbury) shedplate. I check it really is all stations to Didcot and get into an empty compartment, the steam-heat oozing under the seat and drifting up outside the window. We wait for ten minutes, then there’s a short toot on the whistle, and we’re off into the darkness, leaving the lights of Oxford behind us as we accelerate past Hinksey sidings, where the outline of a Churchward 2-8-0 is dimly seen but unidentified. It’s less than ten minutes before we’re slowing down for Radley, where I am the sole person to alight on the deserted platform.
I cross the bridge to the far platform, where the Abingdon auto-train is standing awaiting passengers. 0-4-2T 1420 is simmering quietly under a single feeble light, and I get in to the warm coach, its windows running with condensation. I suddenly realise that we are awaiting a connection from London or Reading and just make out the form of a ‘Modified Hall’ as it slinks past at the opposite platform. Doors slam and echo in the fog, and half a dozen passengers join the branch train, rubbing their hands to keep warm as they settle on the comfortable upholstery. They’ve scarcely got in, and the Oxford-bound train departed, before we jerk into motion and trot serenely through total blackness for about ten minutes; then I can just make out the lights of a station, and we’re at our destination. The others get out, but I stay put. The guard looks at me quizzically and checks my ticket.
‘Just out for the ride then? Not a good night for sightseeing, is it?’ He must think I’m crazy. No-one else comes to join us, and after a fifteen-minute wait we’re on our way back to Radley, once more in pitch darkness. I’ve not seen anything of Abingdon. When we arrive Radley station is deserted, and I’ve no idea how long I’ll have to wait before there’s a train back to Oxford. I consult the timetable display board and see I have a train in half an hour’s time. The waiting room is locked, and 1420 and its single coach dis
appear off into the night. There’s no light apart from the dim station lights, no wind, no sound, just the mist, one moment thick and impenetrable, the next thinning to give a brief glimpse of a wan moon before blanketing the station once more. I stamp my feet and twist my scarf a second time round my neck, then I hear an approaching train, pounding towards me. The glow from the engine pierces the gloom, and a Hereford/Worcester–London express hurls itself through the phantom station, sparks flying. I think I caught the sight of ‘7005’ from the front numberplate as for a split-second the smokebox door was illuminated by the platform lamps, then it’s gone. For several minutes the mist is swept into the slipstream of the speeding train, then stillness once more reigns, and the cold seeps into my bones. Perhaps I should have stayed in my lodgings after all, or found a café or pub, or at least stayed on Oxford station. I keep looking at my watch — the train was due five minutes ago, then ten minutes. There is no-one to tell me where this train is or when it might appear. Suddenly a door opens, and a lone porter appears; almost simultaneously I hear a train approaching and see the faint outline of express headlamps through the fog. My train back is a semi-fast from London to Worcester, and it’s another of Worcester’s rebuilt ‘Stars’, 5090 Neath Abbey, that delivers me back safely and in a fuggy warmth to Oxford station.
A Privileged Journey Page 7
