"...and our fathers that begat us..."

[Calthrop]

A bit of, perhaps, sentimental whimsy – seen as at least a little appropriate for this time of year; when sentimentality, and family-related matters, are traditionally accorded house-room.


A theme (memories talked of, by one’s elders) which I – tending toward dwelling in the past – have touched on before in these Forums: I wonder whether other participants heard -- as I did -- from family members of previous generations, anything about first-hand experiences of theirs of delights on the rail scene, which we were born too late to know for ourselves. My own great love above all else on said scene is for rural lesser branch lines, and light railways of whatever gauge (stuff whose decline, in Britain and the majority of western Europe, set in with considerable intensity very many decades ago); which tends to mean my recalling most clearly, rail reminiscences in that sphere. But, whatever people may have heard of, rail-wise, from earlier generations, promoting delight / envy on the listener’s part…


In my family, none of the generation (those born during or fairly shortly after World War I) before mine, were actual railway enthusiasts – I seem to be in the family, a one-off “sport” in having been obsessively keen on such matters almost from infancy; sometimes to the despair of family members, who have been known at times of great annoyance, to suggest that radical “de-programming” methods might not come amiss. However, many of them displayed a certain amount of fondness for the rail scene, particularly in respect of quaint little lines – sentiments not uncommon, I gather, in the twentieth century’s earlier decades. All in our family of that generation, are now dead -- and circumstances so worked out that I personally knew only one of my grandparents; who was totally not into “anything railway” -- but things told of in past years, are recalled.


My father (born 1917) lived in his childhood and adolescence, in the north-east corner of Wales; and saw first-hand in action, the Glyn Valley Tramway, before it closed for passengers in 1933 (total abandonment two years later). Two uncles of mine took in summer 1938, a cycling holiday round the southern half of Ireland; in the course of which they encountered, in service, the Schull & Skibbereen 3ft. gauge line – this befalling totally by chance: they had no previous knowledge of the line’s existence, but were enchanted by it. An aunt-by-marriage of mine, born about 1920, was from Guernsey: on visits in childhood / youth to Jersey, she experienced rail action there – in her words, “funny little trains”. Hearing this from her, myself very young, I assumed she was referring to the 3ft 6in gauge Jersey Railway (closed 1936); with my having learnt subsequently to then, of the existence of the standard-gauge Jersey Eastern Railway (closed 1929), I now wonder, “to which was she referring – or maybe even both of them?” Opportunity to quiz her on this, never presented itself (she was a nice old stick – wouldn’t have minded the interrogation; would have tried her best to satisfy, or just said, “sorry, I don’t recall in that much detail”).


I’d be interested to hear anyone else’s family-members-type “recollections at second hand” of enviable rail stuff of any kind, for which one was oneself, not born in time…

 

[John Webb]

My father, born 1913, was something of a railway enthusiast, I gather he had fond memories of the Uppingham branch line from going to school there from Leamington Spa, where he lived. Sufficient that in his later years he was considering building a layout of the terminus. He sketched out several ideas (he was a draughtsman) but with down-sizing over the years never got round to building it. But we had an extensive layout first in a spare bedroom and then expanded into a loft as I passed my 10th birthday and could contribute more to layout building!

We nearly always travelled by train for family holidays - my father learnt to drive in the mid-1930s but decided in the mid-1940s road traffic was too bad and so we never had a car until I learnt to drive around 1970.

We paid a very early visit to the Bluebell Railway about a year after it started - via the electrified link from Haywards Heath through Ardingly to Horsted Keynes which closed soon thereafter in 1967.

The rest of the family of his generation and the one above tended to look on trains as a convenient means of transport, but I do recall my maternal grandmother saying that she could remember the horse trams between Greenwich, Woolwich and Plumstead being converted from horse operation to electric around 1905-8.

 

[Bevan Price]

My late father lived at one time near a railway line, and told me he had sometimes watched trains when he was young. But he never became a rail enthusiast. As one of a family of 6 children, and parents who were far from well-paid, there is no way he could have afforded rail trips - or even spotters books if such had existed when he was young. Even as an adult, before he met my mother, any holidays involved cycling with a brother and/or friends.

Two uncles worked on the railways, one a signalman, the other in an office, but neither were rail enthusiasts. My own interest probably arose because we could see a (now closed) railway from our house & garden.

 

[krus_aragon]

I don't have any family tales of working on the railway, but as a (very) young boy, my father would be pushed in his pram by his grandfather, a mile or so, to the nearest railway bridge to watch the afternoon train leaving Amlwch. If, for whatever reason, they were late and missed the train, my father would not be a happy boy!

 

[AJM580]

My late father often spoke of trips on the train to Cardiff from Llandow Halt (on the Vale of Glamorgan line) and also of trips to Germany when on National Service. He also spent a bit of time working at Norwich shed (32A) as a cleaner during the reign of Bill Harvey, and had a few stories of his passion for the Britannias

 

[Arglwydd Golau]

My father (born 1914) became an avid railway enthusiast at a young age, prompted by standing on the toilet seat in his home and noticing a plume of smoke in the near distance. He began to accompany his father to the station to pick up his daily paper, witnessing a small locomotive being prepared for the day, the station was Dinas, and the little locomotive was either 'Russell', 'Moel Tryfan' or '591'. As soon as he was old enough, he spent all his spare time hanging around the WHR, becoming well known to the staff and, as he told me later, having 'countless' footplate journeys on the WHR until its demise in 1936. AS he grew older, he also helped by cleaning and polishing the engines, and in an article in the WHR Heritage Group magazine – I was approached by one of the officials - was dubbed the ''Welsh Highland's first volunteer'. His copious notes (those that have survived} also gave the Heritage group some priceless information on the WHR’s last year.

Of course, the WHR was only seasonal for much of this period (and my father was away at school), but he also wanted to explore the area and learnt - probably from his Father and the WHR driver - of other narrow gauge lines that served the local slate quarries. As soon as he was old enough, he borrowed his father's bicycle and explored every single quarry system that had steam locomotives. His favourite (after the WHR, of course) was the Penrhyn Quarry Railway, hanging around Port Penrhyn one day, he engaged in conversation with the driver of ‘Charles’ and was offered a ride up to the quarry in Bethesda. The driver explained that his usual engine ‘Blanche’ was under repair, ‘Charles’ was the spare. Once again, this occurrence was repeated on numerous occasions, and he was generally able to wander around the quarry, and noted all the engines (even to the extent of learning of new arrivals in the quarry and visiting as soon as he could).

I still have many of his notebooks, and as a young boy myself in the 1960’s was quite enthralled by the notebooks and the tales that they told, especially of the Welsh Narrow gauge. My father was interested in all things steam, and wandered far and wide (when circumstances and finance permitted) recording what he saw. I had a small taste of this myself in the few years before the end of steam, not only on the ‘Main Line’ but also creeping around the locomotive sheds of the various Ironstone workings in Northamptonshire not far from where we lived.

From 1936 until 1939 he kept a log of all his train journeys (I think the war put paid to any continuation) which are quite fascinating to dip into now that they are in my possession, probably as many enthusiasts do today, he looked to travel on regular journeys between home and Oxford by different routes...just glancing at one journey he changed trains eight times...oh, to be able to revisit that journey today!

My own interest was, of course, stimulated by my father, but after the end of steam I didn’t really pursue it any further. For many years I would only discuss railways when I returned home, I would often challenge Dad to write up some stories, his inevitable response was that ‘no one would be interested’. As is often the case, as I grew older I have a rekindled interest in railways, (for about 30 years I hardly ever went near a train!). It was, I suppose, odd (or inevitable) that I should end up living a stone’s throw from the PQR and before Dad died 20 years ago I was able to show him some of his old haunts. I wonder what he would have made of today’s WHR? Probably like myself when I travel on it, he would imagine ‘Russell’ labouring on unkempt track with two or three carriages...except his memories would be real.....

 

[30907]

My maternal uncle was a serious enthusiast into timing trains (I've come across published logs) and timetables (pre war Brighton - he grew up near Brockley before the family moved to a house alongside the Catford Loop at Shortlands Jn.
He took me on several days out round London as treats in the early 60s. Money was tight, and his interest died with the end of steam and ill health.
My father was not so passionate, but took the Railway Magazine and always bought the SR timetable. He wouldn't have a car, so of course family holidays were by train and in the 60s managed a good bit of steam haulage.
I remember him taking me to Liverpool Street when the N7 and J69 pilots were still there, and I am sure the family day out on the bus to Westerham, returning on the train, was engineered for his or my benefit....
However, I don't think he practised the hobby pre war.

 

[Dr_Paul]

My dad can remember travelling on railways from the mid-1930s, so his memories of travelling mainly in and around London over the years are fascinating. During the last war he travelled down to South Wales as a civilian to visit relatives and as a conscripted soldier all over the place, including the Lake District, Northern Ireland, East Anglia and Lincolnshire. He regrets that his journeys through Ribblehead were at night. He was also in Northern Europe in 1944 and was surprised to see bull-head track laid in chairs on a line in Normandy. After the war, it was mainly commuting up to Waterloo, but as there were steam services on the main line and on freight services until the mid-1960s there were interesting things to see.

 

[Cowley]

My father (born 1914) became an avid railway enthusiast at a young age, prompted by standing on the toilet seat in his home and noticing a plume of smoke in the near distance. He began to accompany his father to the station to pick up his daily paper, witnessing a small locomotive being prepared for the day, the station was Dinas, and the little locomotive was either 'Russell', 'Moel Tryfan' or '591'. As soon as he was old enough, he spent all his spare time hanging around the WHR, becoming well known to the staff and, as he told me later, having 'countless' footplate journeys on the WHR until its demise in 1936. AS he grew older, he also helped by cleaning and polishing the engines, and in an article in the WHR Heritage Group magazine – I was approached by one of the officials - was dubbed the ''Welsh Highland's first volunteer'. His copious notes (those that have survived} also gave the Heritage group some priceless information on the WHR’s last year.

Of course, the WHR was only seasonal for much of this period (and my father was away at school), but he also wanted to explore the area and learnt - probably from his Father and the WHR driver - of other narrow gauge lines that served the local slate quarries. As soon as he was old enough, he borrowed his father's bicycle and explored every single quarry system that had steam locomotives. His favourite (after the WHR, of course) was the Penrhyn Quarry Railway, hanging around Port Penrhyn one day, he engaged in conversation with the driver of ‘Charles’ and was offered a ride up to the quarry in Bethesda. The driver explained that his usual engine ‘Blanche’ was under repair, ‘Charles’ was the spare. Once again, this occurrence was repeated on numerous occasions, and he was generally able to wander around the quarry, and noted all the engines (even to the extent of learning of new arrivals in the quarry and visiting as soon as he could).

I still have many of his notebooks, and as a young boy myself in the 1960’s was quite enthralled by the notebooks and the tales that they told, especially of the Welsh Narrow gauge. My father was interested in all things steam, and wandered far and wide (when circumstances and finance permitted) recording what he saw. I had a small taste of this myself in the few years before the end of steam, not only on the ‘Main Line’ but also creeping around the locomotive sheds of the various Ironstone workings in Northamptonshire not far from where we lived.

From 1936 until 1939 he kept a log of all his train journeys (I think the war put paid to any continuation) which are quite fascinating to dip into now that they are in my possession, probably as many enthusiasts do today, he looked to travel on regular journeys between home and Oxford by different routes...just glancing at one journey he changed trains eight times...oh, to be able to revisit that journey today!

My own interest was, of course, stimulated by my father, but after the end of steam I didn’t really pursue it any further. For many years I would only discuss railways when I returned home, I would often challenge Dad to write up some stories, his inevitable response was that ‘no one would be interested’. As is often the case, as I grew older I have a rekindled interest in railways, (for about 30 years I hardly ever went near a train!). It was, I suppose, odd (or inevitable) that I should end up living a stone’s throw from the PQR and before Dad died 20 years ago I was able to show him some of his old haunts. I wonder what he would have made of today’s WHR? Probably like myself when I travel on it, he would imagine ‘Russell’ labouring on unkempt track with two or three carriages...except his memories would be real.....

This was wonderful to read about - As are the others. But this one really captured my imagination.

 

[Busaholic]

My father (born 1918) was interested in motor racing, steam engines and trad jazz, probably in that order. He used to drive the whole family from South London to Hadley Wood on a Sunday to see Mallard, and the other engines of that type go by. Lots of hanging around for a few seconds of that, I always felt, but I have to admit they were lovely looking engines. I also remember visits to somewhere just outside Kings Cross (Gasworks Tunnel?), but I was more interested in the trolleybuses (sorry!)

 

[Calthrop]

Thanks, everyone -- fascinating material.

My father, born 1913, was something of a railway enthusiast, I gather he had fond memories of the Uppingham branch line from going to school there from Leamington Spa, where he lived. Sufficient that in his later years he was considering building a layout of the terminus. He sketched out several ideas (he was a draughtsman) but with down-sizing over the years never got round to building it.

I recall, travelling between Kettering and Manton around 1965, the interesting view from above, from the ex-Midland line, of the rail set-up at Seaton (Rutland); with the Seaton -- Luffenham line (still active) and the diverging Uppingham branch, then closed to all traffic I think, but not yet lifted.

We nearly always travelled by train for family holidays - my father learnt to drive in the mid-1930s but decided in the mid-1940s road traffic was too bad and so we never had a car until I learnt to drive around 1970.

Very interesting to hear of your father; and yours, 30907; deliberately abstaining from car-ownership. (Our family were without car -- or a reliable one, anyway -- for the first half of the 1950s, but that was "circumstances, not principles": come the middle of the '50s, we got an OK car, and thenceforth did a lot less travelling by rail.) Brought home to me here, that there were those 60 / 70 years ago who could have had cars, but were "agin it". I understand that even as at the early 1950s, J.R.R. Tolkien was grieved by the way he perceived internal-combustion vehicles to be fouling-up and strangling the world -- but he was a bit of an outlier. He hated railways, too: for JRRT, all forms of mechanical transport were straight out of Saruman's hell-kitchen.

Two uncles worked on the railways, one a signalman, the other in an office, but neither were rail enthusiasts. My own interest probably arose because we could see a (now closed) railway from our house & garden.

My late father often spoke of trips on the train to Cardiff from Llandow Halt (on the Vale of Glamorgan line) and also of trips to Germany when on National Service. He also spent a bit of time working at Norwich shed (32A) as a cleaner during the reign of Bill Harvey, and had a few stories of his passion for the Britannias

With me, no-one close in generations-before-mine, was a railway employee. A distant relative was a passenger guard on the Birkenhead Joint system around the World War I era; and the father of an aunt-by-marriage was employed in the carriage works at Derby -- but both were "before my time", and I never personally knew them. (This is mother's side of family -- I don't know all that much about father's side.)

Arglwydd Golau -- mouth-watering stuff re your father's doings. A great pity that he wouldn't let you persuade him to put his experiences in writing -- he was far too modest !

My dad can remember travelling on railways from the mid-1930s, so his memories of travelling mainly in and around London over the years are fascinating. During the last war he travelled down to South Wales as a civilian to visit relatives and as a conscripted soldier all over the place, including the Lake District, Northern Ireland, East Anglia and Lincolnshire. He regrets that his journeys through Ribblehead were at night. He was also in Northern Europe in 1944 and was surprised to see bull-head track laid in chairs on a line in Normandy. After the war, it was mainly commuting up to Waterloo, but as there were steam services on the main line and on freight services until the mid-1960s there were interesting things to see.

It could be reckoned that among World War II's rather few upsides, were its conferring a wide range of railway experiences on many people (though, I gather, often in nightmare conditions). Before and during the war, my father was in the Merchant Navy; which embellished his life with many interesting happenings (sometimes, too interesting) -- but if they included rail-related doings in Britain or abroad, I never heard from him about same. (He died when I was only ten -- before I felt much interest in "stuff from the stupid old war", which ended three years before I was born. If only he'd lived a few more years, there would have been so much I'd have liked to ask him about.)

During WWII, my mother was a telephonist working for the Army, though her status was that of a civilian. She worked for a long spell at the ammunition depot at Nesscliff, on the Shropshire & Montgomeryshire Light Railway (taken over by the Army in 1940). She was in lodgings in Oswestry during that time -- I'd imagine herself and colleagues were conveyed by road by the Army, to and from work -- if she ever had any journeys on the S&M line itself, they weren't mentioned. She mentioned journeys at various times between Oswestry and the main-line junction at Gobowen: auto-train with 0-4-2T. (That line closed to passengers when I was eighteen -- I never managed to travel on it -- we lived far from that area.) She also spoke affectionately of the Tanat Valley branch line to Llangynog -- sampled maybe, on wartime days off from work?

An uncle of mine -- mother's side -- had a rather itinerant time within Great Britain during and after World War II (he was a conscientious objector -- a complicated tale) involving much rail travel. He had a good friend who lived at Kirby Moorside: he told of a couple of visits to said friend, involving travel on the Pilmoor -- KM -- Pickering branch.

 

[Welshman]

My Father was born in 1920 in Gowerton near Swansea, and used to tell the tale of how, when he was courting my Mother, who lived in Halifax, he journeyed to see her just before their marriage, carrying with him a Westminster-Chime mantelpiece clock.

He got the train to Manchester London Rd alright, but when he'd walked to Victoria, discovered the last train of the day, at 11pm, only went as far as Todmorden. Nevertheless, he boarded it, thinking there would be an on-going connection {!}, only to find of course that when he got there he was stranded for the night. Fortunately, the engine-driver took pity on him, and told him to keep out of the way whilst he shunted the stock, then when the station lights were out and there was no-one about, he'd give him a lift on the engine to Sowerby Bridge shed. So he sat amongst the coal, still with the clock under his arm, no doubt the chimes going off at every jolt and judder, through Hebden Bridge and Mytholmroyd, into the shed.

I imagine when they arrived, there was much relief all round - from him at not being stranded, and from the crew to be rid of the ringing in their ears! He then walked from Sowerby Bridge to Halifax. Unfortunately, history does not recount the reaction of his prospective in-laws when he turned-up on their doorstep about 2am, covered in coaldust, but with clock still intact!

His family still lived in Wales, and, after marrying my Mother and settling in Halifax, he spent some time journeying back and forth, changing at Manchester and Cardiff. In the 1950s, after my coming on to the scene, I told him of a through train from Huddersfield to Swansea, saving his crossing Manchester and changing at Cardiff at some unearthly hour, so he could have a more peaceful journey. This was, of course, the York-Swansea postal via the Central Wales line. Unfortunately, the constant stop-go and shunting throughout Central Wales meant he didn't sleep a wink, and I was not popular for a week or so afterwards!

When I look back now, I would have loved to have made that journey with him, instead of being tucked-up, warm and snug in bed!

 

[ArchieWoodbine]

My father and grandparents were fortunate enough to take the Golden Arrow to Paris in spring 1961, only a few months before it became an electrically hauled service. I've always been very envious.

However, working in the burgeoning airline industry, my grandfather considered it a rather impractical and outmoded form of transport and apparently didn't take much interest, especially as it was steam hauled. My father was more interested in the steam workings but, being only seven at the time, isn't able to remember a huge deal unfortunately!

I always found the ambivelance of my grandfather perplexing and of a different age. The arrow was the last word in luxury, elegance and, aeroplanes not withstanding, one of the quickest ways to the continent. However, it wasn't modern. It was a relic from a different time and for some represented a pre-war world that no longer surrounded them. People like my grandfather considered this age to be firmly behind them: modernity, progress, practicality and change-for-change sake were their mantras.

It's somewhat sad to think that so many parts of the fabric or culture of Britain, railway related or otherwise, were sent to the proverbial scrap-heap on account of the desperate rush by some to appear modern and fashionable in the 1960s. It's a perhaps understandable viewpoint given the agonies of war and austerity; but couldn't go further against the grain of today given the prominence and popularity of heritage railways and luxury charters.

 

[Calthrop]

My Father was born in 1920 in Gowerton near Swansea, and used to tell the tale of how, when he was courting my Mother, who lived in Halifax, he journeyed to see her just before their marriage, carrying with him a Westminster-Chime mantelpiece clock.

He got the train to Manchester London Rd alright, but when he'd walked to Victoria, discovered the last train of the day, at 11pm, only went as far as Todmorden. Nevertheless, he boarded it, thinking there would be an on-going connection {!}, only to find of course that when he got there he was stranded for the night. Fortunately, the engine-driver took pity on him, and told him to keep out of the way whilst he shunted the stock, then when the station lights were out and there was no-one about, he'd give him a lift on the engine to Sowerby Bridge shed. So he sat amongst the coal, still with the clock under his arm, no doubt the chimes going off at every jolt and judder, through Hebden Bridge and Mytholmroyd, into the shed.

I imagine when they arrived, there was much relief all round - from him at not being stranded, and from the crew to be rid of the ringing in their ears! He then walked from Sowerby Bridge to Halifax. Unfortunately, history does not recount the reaction of his prospective in-laws when he turned-up on their doorstep about 2am, covered in coaldust, but with clock still intact!

"The things we do for love... "

His family still lived in Wales, and, after marrying my Mother and settling in Halifax, he spent some time journeying back and forth, changing at Manchester and Cardiff. In the 1950s, after my coming on to the scene, I told him of a through train from Huddersfield to Swansea, saving his crossing Manchester and changing at Cardiff at some unearthly hour, so he could have a more peaceful journey. This was, of course, the York-Swansea postal via the Central Wales line. Unfortunately, the constant stop-go and shunting throughout Central Wales meant he didn't sleep a wink, and I was not popular for a week or so afterwards!

When I look back now, I would have loved to have made that journey with him, instead of being tucked-up, warm and snug in bed!

"It's a mighty rough road from Hudders to Swansea..."

Indeed, A to B by passenger train "in one jump", is not necessarily and automatically, best. Off somewhat at a tangent, and about not an older-generation relative of mine, but a ditto written-word hero: there's brought to mind Gerald Durrell's book The Whispering Land, about a zoo-animal-collecting venture by him to Argentina around 1960. The expedition finished with a spell in the tropical far north of Argentina; agenda after which was, take the "catch" to base in Buenos Aires and head thence for Britain. It panned out that the most expeditious way to achieve this (I'd think, not ideal from the zoo-collector's point of view), was by rail: one long-distance metre-gauge passenger train all the way to B.A. -- arrangements made, for the creatures collected, to travel in a large goods van coupled on to the passenger train. This working called at a good number of prominent towns en route: Durrell was in great fear of a mess-up happening in the shape of the van being uncoupled somewhere en route, and the train proceeding without it. He thus determined to stay awake throughout the 24-hours-plus journey, and get out at every stop to see to the welfare of his animals in the van, and make sure that the van stayed part of the train.

His Argentinian fellow-passengers -- while clearly convinced that he was insane -- were touchingly concerned for him and his animals in this situation, and gave him a lot of assistance in ensuring that all was well with the creatures in their van: Buenos Aires was reached, with no calamity occurring. At that date, all trains involved were steam -- as Durrell makes mention of in the book. Oh to have been also, there and then ! (Durrell strikes me as having been a great guy, with much zest for life -- "nothing human was alien to him"; including things railway-related.)

My father and grandparents were fortunate enough to take the Golden Arrow to Paris in spring 1961, only a few months before it became an electrically hauled service. I've always been very envious.

However, working in the burgeoning airline industry, my grandfather considered it a rather impractical and outmoded form of transport and apparently didn't take much interest, especially as it was steam hauled. My father was more interested in the steam workings but, being only seven at the time, isn't able to remember a huge deal unfortunately!

I always found the ambivelance of my grandfather perplexing and of a different age. The arrow was the last word in luxury, elegance and, aeroplanes not withstanding, one of the quickest ways to the continent. However, it wasn't modern. It was a relic from a different time and for some represented a pre-war world that no longer surrounded them. People like my grandfather considered this age to be firmly behind them: modernity, progress, practicality and change-for-change sake were their mantras.

A maternal uncle of mine (not the WWII "conchie") was something of a counterpart of your grandfather, if more accepting of "different strokes": he also was in the aviation field, attaining a high position in Rolls Royce / Bristol Aircraft, and keen about all modern technology; but still harbouring considerable affection for railways and steam traction thereon, though given to stating that the latter belonged in the Bronze Age !

It's somewhat sad to think that so many parts of the fabric or culture of Britain, railway related or otherwise, were sent to the proverbial scrap-heap on account of the desperate rush by some to appear modern and fashionable in the 1960s. It's a perhaps understandable viewpoint given the agonies of war and austerity; but couldn't go further against the grain of today given the prominence and popularity of heritage railways and luxury charters.

I tend to think, part-and-parcel of human perversity: we are apt to treasure that which is no longer around; having -- while it was around, but seen as outmoded -- mostly despised it.

 

[ChiefPlanner]

Wonderful stuff here - my late father was a fairly frequent traveller on the GWR from Brynamman West and on the LMS from Brynamman East. They had a school camping trip to the Forest of Dean in the 1930's and a number of them were given a cab ride.
In a new single unit GW railcar)
A very old lady I did coal duties for in the late 1960's lived in Forest Gate in her younger days - her father put in the dams for Bombay - and returned to work on the Clywedog Dams near Rhayadar and I asked her for details on the 1900 era Cambrian Railways - nothing of note, but his next job was as an engineer for the LCC Tramways (hence living in Forest Gate) , and when her Dad died in the 1930's he was repatriated home to Wales in a family saloon from that station , presumably via the North London line. Her mother pointed out they came to London to lay tramways and on his demise - they were supposedly being torn up.

My good near neighbour - in her 90's , commuted in the 1940's to St Pancras and Moorgate - and told me of the awful winter of 1947 - huge delays and unheated trains - bomb damage still around - and one morning her arm was frozen (inside) to the window ledge despite a crush of commuters.

 

[Calthrop]

My good near neighbour - in her 90's , commuted in the 1940's to St Pancras and Moorgate - and told me of the awful winter of 1947 - huge delays and unheated trains - bomb damage still around - and one morning her arm was frozen (inside) to the window ledge despite a crush of commuters.

That evil winter, '46 / '47: my uncle mentioned above, the conscientious objector -- he was always a contrary so-and-so; his reluctance to "be part of it" was not on officially-approved grounds, so he spent five-to-six years being plagued with summonses to join the Forces: finally, various considerations moved him to, in spring 1945, accede to the ceaseless badgering, and submit to conscription into the Army -- in which he served till 1948. In winter '46 / '47, he was stationed in Edinburgh. On one memorable day, he and his comrades were taken off westward by train, to the colliery at Shotts; to dig free of copious snow, the tracks leading out of the colliery to the main system. (A disadvantage of coal-burning-steam-worked railways in cold climates, is that heavily snowy conditions can impede getting coal out from the mine to the rail system, even for the purpose of running trains carrying loco coal.) A long day of cold misery and exertion which, as my uncle said, helped him in later decades to sympathise with Solzhenitsyn in the Gulag.

 

[krus_aragon]

I've remembered another railway story in my family: my great-great-great-grandfather was killed at Chester railway station.

He was a cattle drover by trade, and had done so since before the arrival of the railways, back when cattle would need to be shod for the long walk to Kent and London. In the new world, drovers would accompany their livestock on the railway journey in order to drove them at either end of the journey.

The Chester Gazette gave the following account:

Shocking and Fatal Accident at the Railway Station. —An inquest was held the deputy coroner for the city, Mr. John Tatlock, Wednesday, at the Infirmary, on the body of William Rowlands, cattle drover, aged 58, who was in the employ of Mr. Evans, Beddwgan, in the parish of Pentraeth, Anglesey. It appeared from the evidence of Charles Astbury, one of the ticket collectors, that the deceased arrived at Chester the previous morning, at two o’clock, a passenger train, and presented a cattle way bill, which was not available as a pass, and he was required to pay third class fare from Crewe to Chester. He said would wait for his stock, which was coming on the next train. The last the ticket collector saw of him was about a quarter to three, when he was standing on the platform. At about twenty minutes to four, the driver of a goods train was proceeding into the goods yard from the down train line, for the purpose of shunting, when, as he was about stopping, he heard a scream and at once pulled up. He and the stoker got off, and they found the unfortunate cattle drover lying with his head under the buffer plank, with his body on the four foot, and his left foot almost cut off. Assistance was procured, and he was taken to the Infirmary. Dr. Haining found him in state of collapse, the result, apparently, of a severe crush of the body. Most of his ribs were fractured, and the pelvis and left foot almost severed. He seemed very anxious to say something, and gave a name which the doctor interpreted as Rowlands. He died about twenty minutes after admission. Verdict of accidental death was returned.

One key detail the Chronicle didn't have was that fact that he was going hard of hearing in his old age, and thus probably never heard the train behind him.

 

[Greetlander]

My parents, who married in the early 60s, departed on honeymoon from the central island platform at Halifax, which was taken out of use in 1971, five years before I came along.

My grandparents had, and parents have strong memories of goods trains on the Stainland branch (closed 1959), in particular watching them on the level crossing on Green Lane, West Vale. They also used Greetland and Elland stations (closed 1962) and remember the double joy of seeing a goods train coming off the Stainland branch as they were waiting for a train.

I also had an aunt who was old enough to have travelled on the Ripponden/Rishworth line (closed to passengers 1929) as a young girl. Even in her late 80s she swore a L&Y railmotor was more comfortable and less smelly than a Yorkshire Rider bus.

I'm still to see the holy grail of any film footage or colour photo on either branch line. I got emotional when the brief clip of the Halifax High Level line turned up on youtube, which of course, now I've looked for it I can't find.

 

[Taunton]

My grandfather, with whom I overlapped in early years, had gone from leaving school with nothing, and being A Boy at a local major engineering company in London, working up the hard way to becoming a member of the Institution of Locomotive Engineers. I have his membership certificate, No 1321, up on the wall here as I write this, when he moved on from Associate Member to full Member, signed (in 1921) by the top officials of the Institute, President Kitson-Clark and Vice-President one H N Gresley (who he?). As ever in those days, he took roles which were as much Civils or general engineering, as just Locomotives.

He focused on significant overseas assignments, generally of three years or so, it it seems he had some desire to have worked once in every continent. Mostly in the Colonies, but he did one to Argentina. The one that he most enjoyed was obviously going to Queensland as Resident Engineer and, still in his late 20s, being in charge of setting up all the mechanical plant, and associated narrow-gauge cane railways, at the major sugar mill in Mackay, still very much in production and the railway system still extant and now used by tourist trains as well. But not then. All the mechanical equipment was shipped out from Britain. Many was the story he told me at a young age about taking a locomotive and setting off with it to visit some part of the extensive works, along with other non-rail adventures, such as going by horse sufficiently far that he had to camp overnight, and finding in the morning that the saddle had been attacked and chewed by a crocodile which had come up from the adjacent lake.

He met a girl in Britain, went off to Australia, wrote her a lengthy letter each Sunday afternoon describing the week's events, and then three years later came back and married her. A different world then. I still have all the letters, which she kept, a fascinating insight into operations out there pre-1914. Railways of various types crop up, whether he is travelling to Brisbane to sort out a shipping problem at the docks, meeting the investors, or supervising recovery of an overturned loco on the cane railway when they had no crane.

He returned by ship from one such overseas trip right into the 1926 General Strike, went to Paddington, identified himself, and took a role on a westbound train to Taunton. Family story was he was the driver, but I suspect that actually he was the fireman, as you wouldn't be the driver on that without some line experience. He just told me "went on the engine". When he got to Taunton he was greeted by the station officials, who were surprised it was him, who they knew, with a mug of tea, for the continuation on to Exeter. "No, this is where I'm going" he said, and left them all at the platform.

When returning from London he always spoke of going on the 10.30 Down, to arrive at Taunton "just in time for lunch with the family". But I suspect the real interest was riding in the Slip Coach of the Cornish Riviera, detached at Taunton, likely making himself something of a nuisance to the Slip Guard along the way, and inveigling his way into the front compartment to watch the procedure.

At their house there was a small bookshelf in the sitting room, alongside the grand pre-war valve radio, with a few key books. But there was always the current train timetable, with supplement (which he always called "the supple-ment"), and the current Western National bus one, which he must have ensured were renewed promptly. Towards the end of his life he was fascinated by the start of Motorail services carrying cars on open flat vehicles, found out the passing times, and would go down to the old footbridge just west of Taunton station, 5 minutes from their house, to watch them pass. Not an enthusiast, but an industry professional, from long ago and far away.

 

[Calthrop]

Continuing-ly, terrific stuff -- again, my thanks to everybody. Greetlander -- re Rishworth branch, known to your aunt: 1929 was a notoriously bad year for closures, both for lesser branches of the "Big Four" and for assorted independent lines. Nobody in my family could, that I know of, claim to have experienced a line which lost its services in 1929; unless (not all that likely, I feel) my Channel Islands aunt-by-marriage did in fact make in childhood, the acquaintance of the Jersey Eastern Railway.

Taunton -- I have something (though of less moment) from an earlier generation, with a Antipodean flavour, to set alongside your grandfather on the Queensland sugar lines. My mother was the youngest of five children, and the only girl. She and my uncle Bob were the youngest two of the five -- they showed up a little bit later than the first three: there was always a bit of an element of sibling rivalry and mild hostility between said first three, and the later two: Bob and my mother were always special pals to each other. Shortly after World War II, Bob married a girl from New Zealand, and emigrated thereto with her. They lived from quite shortly after arriving in NZ, until his death circa 2005, in Nelson at the very north end of South Island; he corresponded with my mother for many years after his move to NZ. He was in a kind of sense, an "enemy agent" -- a civil engineer devoted to the building and maintenance of roads -- but he had an interest in railways, as in everything mechanical.

In their early years in Nelson, they saw in action the New Zealand railways' isolated minor line running 50-ish miles south-west from the town -- there were for long, plans to extend this section to join up with the West Coast lines of the South Island's system; but the onset of the inter-world-wars Depression meant that this never happened, and the line was abandoned in 1955. I recall, some time before that date, my mother reading out to me part of a letter from Bob, telling of Nelson's quaint rail line, with locomotives -- as he put it a bit hyperbolically -- "looking maybe ten years or so younger, than Stephenson's 'Rocket' ". I'd reckon that he and my mother figured that hearing about this, would be of much interest to rail-enthusiast-almost-from-birth me.

 

[Busaholic]

A fascinating thread for anyone with an interest in social history.

 

[Cowley]

A fascinating thread for anyone with an interest in social history.

Absolutely. And a lovely tribute to the long gone family members of those that have contributed to it.

 

[daodao]

In 2008, I took my late father for a walk in Heaton Park, and we had a ride on restored Manchester Corporation Tramways single deck car 765. He recalled, in a conversation with the guard, how he had travelled on similar cars 80 years earlier as a child on trips from his home in Cheetham Hill near Queen's Road depot to Belle Vue Zoo.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manchester_Corporation_Tramways_765

 

[Calthrop]

In 2008, I took my late father for a walk in Heaton Park, and we had a ride on restored Manchester Corporation Tramways single deck car 765. He recalled, in a conversation with the guard, how he had travelled on similar cars 80 years earlier as a child on trips from his home in Cheetham Hill near Queen's Road depot to Belle Vue Zoo.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manchester_Corporation_Tramways_765

Britain's first-generation urban electric trams -- "a whole nother thing" in this line. My parents' generation had a wealth of memories of travel on such tram systems. (It's a cause of bitter regret to me that though I was born fourteen years before the demise of the last such [Glasgow 1962 -- in my estimation, Blackpool doesn't count] -- I was never in the right place at the right time, for even the slightest tram-experience that could have stayed in my memory; especially since I'm sure I must have actually seen them fleetingly in the 1950s, in Sheffield and Liverpool.)

My mother and her four brothers -- born in Chester in the years leading up to 1921 -- knew Chester's small 3ft 6in gauge electric tram system, before its abandonment in 1930. They all had experience of tram travel in other, bigger cities. A hitherto-unmentioned maternal uncle (husband of the lady from Guernsey) spent a couple of years in Birmingham in the late 1930s. Some while before his death, he was reminiscing to me about this Birmingham spell; I expressed to him my envy of his extensive experience then, of Birmingham's tram system -- last knockings of which 1953 if I have things right -- interesting for its rare-ish 3ft 6in gauge. This uncle -- a lifelong habitual "Grinch" and grouch -- responded with a tirade about how inefficient, uncomfortable and generally unsatisfactory the Birmingham trams were, and how misguided my nostalgia for them, was...

 

[John Webb]

......... Some while before his death, he was reminiscing to me about this Birmingham spell; I expressed to him my envy of his extensive experience then, of Birmingham's tram system -- last knockings of which 1953 if I have things right -- interesting for its rare-ish 3ft 6in gauge.......

Yes - closed 4th July 1953. In England, 3ft 6in gauge was also used in Chatham, Cheltenham, Chester, Coventry, Halifax, Hastings, Isle of Thanet, Norwich and Plymouth, who all had systems of more than 10 miles in length and there were numerous minor systems under 10 miles as well using this gauge. Bradford had a very large system (over 60 miles) of 4ft gauge, which was used by a few other systems as well. (Information from "The Directory of British Tramways", by Keith Turner, Patrick Stephens Ltd., 1996)

I can recall the "Last Week of the Trams" in London and being taken, at the age of 6, on a trip from Woolwich to Eltham and return during that week; I've still got the ticket lurking somewhere!

 

[Calthrop]

In the nicest and most affectionate way, I utterly hate all you people of similar-ish birthdates to myself, who had first-hand experience of Britain's urban trams in their last years -- with you being born in / going to the right places -- which I wasn't / didn't. A railway-enthusiast friend of mine, 18 months older than me, was born in south London, and experienced that region's trams in their final years. A long-time girlfriend of mine, born mid-1940s in Edinburgh, has told me of (I think, related to her by parents, not first-hand memory) being taken as an infant on a necessary A to B journey on an Edinburgh tram, and bawling her eyes out. Another associate of mine, born the year before me, experienced (and remembers) various late-surviving British tram systems -- including Glasgow, the last of all -- but he is one of those exasperating people who have been everywhere and done everything. I, born summer 1948, have had absolutely none of such luck -- no fair !

 

[Cowley]

In the nicest and most affectionate way, I utterly hate all you people of similar-ish birthdates to myself, who had first-hand experience of Britain's urban trams in their last years -- with you being born in / going to the right places -- which I wasn't / didn't. A railway-enthusiast friend of mine, 18 months older than me, was born in south London, and experienced that region's trams in their final years. A long-time girlfriend of mine, born mid-1940s in Edinburgh, has told me of (I think, related to her by parents, not first-hand memory) being taken as an infant on a necessary A to B journey on an Edinburgh tram, and bawling her eyes out. Another associate of mine, born the year before me, experienced (and remembers) various late-surviving British tram systems -- including Glasgow, the last of all -- but he is one of those exasperating people who have been everywhere and done everything. I, born summer 1948, have had absolutely none of such luck -- no fair !

My Grandmother (Granny London as I called her) told me a few stories about the trams in London, I don’t remember many of them now, but one that stuck in the mind was of her travelling home in a Pea Souper one filthy night with the tram absolutely rammed with people, struggling along at walking pace and stopping at every stop to disgorge passengers, when the driver kept calling out “Anyone for 32 Acacia Avenue? 32 Acacia Avenue anyone (I’m not sure which road she actually said)”?
Apparently everyone found this very amusing, and I remember her telling the story and me trying to imagine the glow of the lights from the tram as it trundled past in the murky night.

 

[Busaholic]

In the nicest and most affectionate way, I utterly hate all you people of similar-ish birthdates to myself, who had first-hand experience of Britain's urban trams in their last years -- with you being born in / going to the right places -- which I wasn't / didn't. A railway-enthusiast friend of mine, 18 months older than me, was born in south London, and experienced that region's trams in their final years. A long-time girlfriend of mine, born mid-1940s in Edinburgh, has told me of (I think, related to her by parents, not first-hand memory) being taken as an infant on a necessary A to B journey on an Edinburgh tram, and bawling her eyes out. Another associate of mine, born the year before me, experienced (and remembers) various late-surviving British tram systems -- including Glasgow, the last of all -- but he is one of those exasperating people who have been everywhere and done everything. I, born summer 1948, have had absolutely none of such luck -- no fair !

I commiserate. As you say, luck of the draw. My own experience of trams in south London, though, was born in a way of ill fortune, because I was sent to live with my maternal grandmother in 1951 after my beloved older brother was killed in an accident. My grandmother lived in a flat above a shop overlooking Eltham Church tram terminus, and had not the slightest interest in trams, but luckily a friend of hers took pity on me, I guess, and used to take me for rides (I'm a matter of weeks older than you.) In a fairly recent book, a photo was published which I've never seen before, taken in July 1952 on the Last Tram Day at Eltham Green (the Yorkshire Grey to all locals) and the only person visible in the photo, surrounded by trams, was my father, which at least confirms what I know to be the case, that I rode at least one tram on that last day: his thing was steam trains, not trams or anything electric!

 

[Busaholic]

My Grandmother (Granny London as I called her) told me a few stories about the trams in London, I don’t remember many of them now, but one that stuck in the mind was of her travelling home in a Pea Souper one filthy night with the tram absolutely rammed with people, struggling along at walking pace and stopping at every stop to disgorge passengers, when the driver kept calling out “Anyone for 32 Acacia Avenue? 32 Acacia Avenue anyone (I’m not sure which road she actually said)”?
Apparently everyone found this very amusing, and I remember her telling the story and me trying to imagine the glow of the lights from the tram as it trundled past in the murky night.

True story - in a London peasouper, very late 1950s or early 1960s, the conductor on my bus home from school resorted to walking in front of the bus with a flare for at least two miles (would have been three but they took a shortcut.) Only ever happened the once, though!

 

[Calthrop]

There's a poignant and delightful film -- length about 10 mins. -- made to mark the end of London's trams in early July 1952. If I had more computer competence, I'd do a link to it; as things are, will just say that Googling the film's title, The elephant will never forget 1952, should immediately fetch it up, YouTube-wise. Wonderfully showing the trams doing their characteristic stuff in their last few days; plus the "last rites". Includes a splendid music-hall song about the advantages for courtship purposes, of the top deck of trams (all pretty decorous).