During those first few weeks while my training was constrained to the depot environment I increasingly utilised my pass for evening trips to Paddington, Swindon or Oxford and rode on a number of ‘Castle’ turns in the main — engines from Old Oak, Worcester and South Wales, like 4088, 4096 (on which I had a firing lesson), 4099, 5008, 5020, 5034, 5056, 5065, 7007 and 7032.
By mid-May 1962 it was my turn for the three rostered weeks of formal footplate training, during which I was required to sample both steam and diesel, freight and passenger, local and main-line work. One of my first days was to be spent on shunting and empty-carriage working (the Old Oak–Paddington ‘in-and-outs’) with condensing pannier tank 9709. Because of my supposed firing prowess (had my successful showing with No 4096 gone around the Old Oak grapevine?) I was entrusted with looking after the fire while the fireman was despatched to the office to collect the wages of driver and fireman, taking the little brass discs that acted as proof of identity. We were marshalled ahead of a long train of parcels vehicles to form the 2.34pm Paddington–Plymouth parcels from platform 1A, awaiting the road to leave Old Oak carriage sidings. The fireman had been gone a long time, and the driver had engrossed me in a rambling discourse on a number of topics (including, I believe, the correct way to prune raspberries), when we got the road to leave. The fireman was still nowhere to be seen, so the driver said ‘You’ll do’ and went to open the regulator. I decided it was time to put coal on the fire and opened the firebox door — and found, to my horror, that the fire had gone out! To my surprise the driver was not unduly fazed and helped me find some timber and firelighters to relight the fire. Meanwhile, using what steam remained, we travelled at least as far as the bottom of the flyover at North Pole. A mere 80lb of steam plainly was not sufficient to lift fourteen large parcel vehicles up the gradient of the flyover, so we gesticulated to the driver of 5021 Whittington Castle, waiting to follow us light-engine, and he gave us an almighty shove up to the top, whereafter I just raised enough steam to keep the brakes off until our arrival at platform 1A. I never heard anything more about it, and the driver did not even tell the fireman (well, not in my hearing anyway) when he returned with their wages upon our eventual arrival back at the depot.
I had worked pretty long hours to make full use of my pass while undergoing depot training, but once my scheduled footplate programme came around I could not squeeze enough hours into the day to do all I wanted. Luckily no-one sought to challenge my 14-15 hour turns of duty, and only once did I appear to suffer, when I nearly fell asleep while trying to fire 6015 on the first up Wolverhampton after an all-night shift on a Paddington–Oxley fast freight. In order to maximise my day (and avoid the anxious entreaties of my uncomprehending landlady) I lodged for three weeks with the jovial stationmaster at Twyford, Bob Poynter, a former Traffic Apprentice in his first substantive post, which covered the Henley branch as well as the main line. Many of the commuter trains were formed of ex-GWR rolling stock with T-shaped door handles that had to be turned, and Bob was much exercised by station overtime while doors were shut and handles operated — he learned from bitter experience that you don’t blow whistles to hurry commuters off the Henley branch! Most mornings I would travel up to Paddington in the cab of a ‘Castle’ or ‘Hall’ and then stay on the locomotive as it made its way light-engine to to Old Oak shed.
My programme required me to travel on various types of train, and among those stipulated was a steam-hauled stopping service. This seemed a little unnecessary from a training point of view, as by 1962 most local services were DMUs (on which I dutifully travelled from Banbury to Paddington), but I decided to fulfil my remit by turning up for a Saturday Paddington–Oxford train (calling at all stations after Reading), whose DMU was replaced one day a week by an engine and coaches. After an uneventful run from Paddington as far as Reading the driver turned to me and offered me his seat and the controls.
So here I was, in charge of 5986 Arbury Hall and eight (fairly empty) non-corridor coaches. We set off on the down relief line in brisk style, and I was bowling merrily along when Tilehurst station came into view. As a novice I had been expecting some tuition, but the driver said nothing, and my somewhat late (albeit increasingly severe) brake application saw us sailing through the station before finally coming to a stand, with only the rearmost coach at the platform! I held my breath, watching to see how many doors opened off the platform, but no-one stirred, and off we went. I repeated the performance at Pangbourne but managed to get three coaches alongside the platform — a distinct improvement. Still the driver seemed totally unperturbed, so I requested guidance for Goring, and he pointed out a white cottage, which he used as a marker for braking. Third time lucky — a perfect stop! By now I was becoming over-confident and was finding the sedate 60mph limit on the relief line somewhat unexciting, so in accelerating away from Cholsey I moved the regulator into second-port position. 5986 responded by almost leaping into the air and producing a lovely roar from the chimney, and this was the only time the driver took any interest in my efforts, a restraining hand on my shoulder being accompanied by the words ‘Steady on, lad, steady on!’
Condensing ‘57xx’ pannier 9703 at Old Oak Common, 25 May 1957.
For some reason engines were changed at Didcot, whence I continued to Oxford very sedately with 1015 County of Gloucester and a new crew. I mentioned earlier that on Saturdays the ‘Oxford Flyer’ was not an Old Oak ‘Castle’ turn but could produce anything that Oxford shed had on hand, spare. On this particular Saturday it turned out one of its own ‘Modified Halls’, 7911 Lady Margaret Hall, and I rode this on my return to Paddington. The engine was on top of the job, running in the low 80s, and we reached Paddington in 59 minutes and 55 seconds, but I learned a major lesson en route. We had a tender full of ovoids (coal dust cemented in ovoid shape, which produced a lot of dust and contained a chemical that had an irritant effect if you got it in the eye). The fireman had been busy with the hose throughout the journey, attempting to control the dust, but as we shot under the station overbridge at Southall at 80mph the swirling coal dust got in my eyes. I had bought myself a pair of motor-cycle goggles to wear as protection but had allowed myself to be laughed into not wearing them by a succession of ‘macho’ train crews. A visit to the First Aid Room at Paddington was not successful in removing all the dust, and I was sent to the Casualty Department of the adjacent St Mary’s Hospital, where I spent a very painful four hours awaiting attention. Thereafter I ignored the teasing and put my own safety first — I wore my goggles.
Another requirement of my programme was that I should experience a footplate run on a night fast freight. Here was a splendid opportunity to travel on one of those marvellous Churchward ‘47xx’, engines the Old Oak men swore by. I chose the 10.55pm Paddington–Bordesley & Oxley, a train that was invariably rostered for a ‘47xx’, and booked on and reported to the crew preparing 4704, which was just ex works and sporting the fully lined Brunswick-green livery. As we backed into Paddington goods depot we joined an array of well-turned-out locomotives ready to depart with a succession of fast night freights. Seeing 4087, my favourite ‘Castle’, on a West of England Class C fully fitted freight tempted me to change footplates, but I had made my choice and had been made welcome by 4704’s crew, so I stuck with the Birmingham train.
Photographed from the new enginemen’s lobby, Churchward ‘47xx’ 2-8-0 4704 enters Old Oak Common shed in July 1958.
We left punctually but spent a long time making up the full load of fifty-five vanfits at Park Royal (a private siding to the tobacco factory). As we left High Wycombe I was again offered the regulator (news of my previous attempts clearly not having reached this particular crew), and I took control for the climb to Saunderton Summit. This was not particularly difficult, involving the insertion of a large lump of coal to keep the regulator opened wide while I manipulated the heavy and somewhat stiff reversing and cut-off lever which obtruded into my space. We went over the summit at 31mph without any fuss and made good time u
ntil we reached the Leamington area, where we suffered a succession of signal checks, leaving us to start the climb of Hatton Bank at walking pace. This caused the surefooted 4704 no problem, and the only complaint I have about the locomotive was its frugal cab design — specifically the awkward reversing lever and the severely attenuated cab roof, which gave no protection from the steady rain which soaked me from Leamington onwards. It was after this trip that I made my way back to Snow Hill and boarded 6015 King Richard III on the 6.25am Wolverhampton, as I felt too wet and filthy to travel ‘on the cushions’. However, when a nasty lurch nearly sent me tumbling through the gap between engine and tender after I had nodded off somewhere around Cropredy I decided to seek refuge in the train at Banbury.
New diesel-hydraulic types were being introduced by the Western Region at around this time, and I had already travelled in the cab of brand-new ‘Hymek’ D7025 (on an up South Wales express), which appeared to have little in hand over the previously diagrammed ‘Castle’. The ‘Warships’ were now fairly common but were still causing the fitters some problems, and while I was at Old Oak drawings arrived from Germany — but unfortunately the explanations were in German. Knowing that I was a graduate in the language, the shedmaster asked me if I would translate the sheaf of documents. Unfortunately, as I was no engineer, I didn’t know the English for half the engine parts described! Also during my stay the first two ‘Westerns’ appeared, and I arranged to come in specially on a Saturday to travel down to Plymouth on D1001 at the head of the ‘Cornish Riviera’. Unfortunately it failed the previous evening on the up run, and when I arrived at the platform end at Paddington I found North British-built ‘Warship’ No D851. It kept time without trouble, but the North British locomotives in particular were prone to the emission of unpleasant fumes from badly fitted pipes, and by the time we reached Exeter I was suffering from a filthy headache. Seeing 4909 Blakesley Hall waiting to back onto the three-coach Kingswear portion of our train was too tempting, so I opted to breathe the ozone along the Dawlish wall. After a pleasant couple of unhurried hours in Kingswear we returned to Exeter with a portion of the 1.50pm Penzance, only to find another fume-filled North British ‘Warship’, D855. But this was reality; one of the purposes of my training was to experience life as it was for the train crews, and cab design and conditions were important, as I would find later in my career when dealing with trade-union complaints over Health & Safety issues or investigating the causes of SPADs (signals passed at danger).
In the early 1960s the Paddington–Wolverhampton service had been augmented to replace Euston services curtailed during electrification, and most of the Laira ‘Kings’ had been transferred to Old Oak or Stafford Road for the northern road. One of the extra services was an 8.20am Paddington–Birmingham, scheduled for 2 hours and 10 minutes with one stop and named the ‘Inter City’. This was very attractive to me as a day out, and I had two runs with ‘Kings’ on this train and on a 9.0am Paddington Mondays-only train that was non-stop. Surprisingly both had major problems, although for different reasons. On the first I rode 6016 King Edward V. The tender was filled with an appalling load of coal dust, and we struggled for steam throughout. I spent at least half the journey knee-deep in the stuff, mining the odd lump of genuine coal and flinging it forward to the perspiring fireman. We somehow kept time, but it was a struggle, and I doubt we would have made it without the two of us working flat-out to make steam. On the second occasion we had 6000 itself (known on depot as ‘KG5’) and a load of good Welsh coal, but as we accelerated up to Seer Green the steam pressure dropped ominously quickly. As soon as we shut off for the High Wycombe curves the steam pressure rose again, and we progressed in fits and starts, working hard uphill and drifting downhill while we recovered breath. We roared over Hatton Summit at 53mph and sailed into Snow Hill on time, but again it had been touch and go. We later learned that superheater tubes in the smokebox were leaking. 6000 did not in any case have a very good reputation for steaming, and it was discovered at some point that the double blastpipes were slightly out of alignment. (See Appendix Table 14 for the detailed logs of most of my footplate runs.) I went through to Shrewsbury on a Stafford Road ‘Castle’ (5047 Earl of Dartmouth), returning to London on 6845 Paviland Grange and, from Wolverhampton, a beautifully maintained and superb riding 6026 King John, which, without any real fuss, turned a nine min-late departure from Leamington (sheep on the line at Lapworth) into an early arrival at Paddington.
Just before my time at Old Oak came to an end I had one last trip up the GW Birmingham route behind my favourite ‘King’, 6022 King Edward III. This was a Stafford Road engine, and we had an crew who were on a punctuality-bonus scheme. Unfortunately, although going well, we failed to pick up any water from the nearly empty troughs just south of Banbury and so tried to take water during the scheduled Princes Risborough stop. The fireman climbed onto the tender to put the bag in the tank, and I was sent to turn on the hydrant. Nothing came. I fiddled with the handle, trying all positions in case I had got it wrong (everyone assumed you knew everything, without instruction, and, as a young trainee, I was sometimes too embarrassed to admit my ignorance) so we abandoned the attempt and set off with great gusto to get time in hand, as we would have to make a special stop for water at High Wycombe. Here I was again sent to operate the water-column hydrant and managed somehow to get the handle off the valve seat, so that it just revolved without connection. The driver saw the mess I was in and immediately assumed I had made the same mistake at Princes Risborough, so I became the target of a few well-aimed epithets. With the water column restored to action we topped up as far as was necessary and then set off for Paddington, the driver taking out his frustration on the locomotive as he saw his bonus disappearing. I have no idea what speed we reached — I just huddled in the fireman’s corner and willed myself to disappear! We arrived seven minutes late, and I made myself scarce.
One week during this time I heard rumour of a high-speed test to Wolverhampton and back. The ‘Kings’ were living on borrowed time, it being anticipated that there would be sufficient ‘Western’ diesels to cover the winter timetable on the Birmingham line. The Civil Engineer was a little nervous about the state of the track for sustained higher-speed running, and to be sure he wanted a test with the ‘Whitewash Car’ — the vehicle that would evaluate track condition at speed and let splashes of whitewash fall on track which did not come up to standard. We had two ‘Castles’ in store in the paint shop, 4098 and 7030; I noticed activity around the latter, and the rumours were confirmed when I was informed that 7030 Cranbrook Castle was being prepared for the test run (diesel availability being insufficient to spare a ‘Warship’). I asked Ray Sims for permission to travel on the locomotive, but he refused on the grounds that there would be an additional fireman and an inspector in the cab. However, someone overheard my request and suggested I just turn up at Paddington and ask the Civil Engineer in charge if I could travel in the train.
I did as suggested and, permission (surprisingly) having been readily forthcoming, made my way to the front BSK (Brake Second Corridor) in splendid isolation — the engineering party were all in the test vehicle, and the rest of the train was empty. We left Paddington at 10.25, fifteen minutes behind the ‘Blue Pullman’, and with five minute stops booked at High Wycombe and Leamington, to ensure the Pullman did not delay us, we were scheduled to reach Wolverhampton in just over two hours. However, in the event even this margin was insufficient, and we caught up with the Pullman in the Black Country, in consequence arriving a few minutes late. Highlights on the down journey were 96mph at Haddenham, acceleration to 70 at Warwick and a sustained 66mph approaching Hatton Summit, before braking for the curve at the top of the bank. However, this was small beer compared with the return journey, which after Leamington became extremely lively. I made it 105mph below Bicester (although I claimed only 103 subsequently, having tested my average speeds against claimed maxima), and after the High Wycombe stop we again touched 103 at Denham and 97 at Greenford.
The latter fireworks got both driver and inspector into hot water, as it was claimed that we would never have stopped had Old Oak West Junction signals been against us. I enclose my logs for interest (Appendix Table 15), although these have been published elsewhere, notably in O. S. Nock’s classic book on the ‘Kings’ and ‘Castles’. Incidentally, I gathered that, from an engineering-test point of view, the exercise was of very limited value, as the riding south of Banbury on the return journey was so rough that the whitewash splashed onto almost every mile of track (as well as obliterating the rear windows of the test car), breaking the hearts of a number of p-way gangers in the process.
The following day, 16 May 1962, 7030 was on the ‘Oxford Flyer’ turn (5.30pm non-stop Oxford–Paddington in 60 minutes for the 63 miles), and I decided to use my footplate pass to see what high speed on 7030 was like. We got to Paddington in 56 minutes, with a top speed of 90mph near Maidenhead, but the driver was dubious when I told him of the previous day’s exploits. He was not disbelieving that 7030 was capable of such speeds but thought the driver and inspector foolhardy, as the engine rolled quite pronouncedly at 90mph; it was not rough, but it was enough for the ‘Oxford Flyer’ driver to ease off once that speed was reached. The best bit: sitting in the fireman’s tip-up seat on the left-hand side, leaning out of the cab window, as we roared through the middle road at Reading in the mid-80s, whistle howling — what a sight we must have made for the crowds awaiting the next up express!
A Privileged Journey Page 23
