My passion for trains is a product of my education. I didn’t go to a boarding school but the place was sufficiently like Hogwarts to have houses, societies and clubs for eager and willing pupils. I hung my hat on the Railway Soc. mainly because, at the time I was living in Durham but going to school in Newcastle, a twice daily rail journey in a diesel multiple unit (DMU). A friend of mine, who also made the same journey, had similar leanings.
I came into the Railway Soc. as a boy but its wide range of experiences made me a man. We travelled far and wide to exotic places I’d only heard of or seen on a British Rail timetable. We visited shunting and stabling yards in Glasgow Shields Road (GW code) and Crewe Gresty Lane (CG code). Like goslings following the goose, we followed in the wake of our school prefect and society leader.
There were knapsacks full of camaraderie and pockets stuffed with the paraphernalia of the train spotter. We leant out of windows to catch a glimpse of the next catch and perfected the art of noting the number of passing trains at high speed.
We were shouted at and chased from places where we should not have been, even accused of trespassing but we were boys on a mission and weren’t going to stop until that neat red line was ruled under every number n the British Rail Pocket Book guides to locomotives and rolling stock.
I remember setting off a fire extinguisher in one of the long-dead Westerns, waiting in line to be scrapped (but now I think my memory is playing tricks). I had the chance to drive a class 08 shunter, even if it was only for ten yards. This was the stuff that boys’ dreams were made of.
Of course the real purpose of going on a trip was to see the exotic trains, the numbers that plied their trade on different routes, far away from the East Coast Mainline. In our small group there were those who had a penchant for steam and those who wanted to see the cutting edge of electric traction but my draw were the diesels. The raucous and filthy work horses of the railways, such as the English Electric Type 3 class 37 or the Brush class 47. Catching sight of the more respectable and less grimy Peak, class 45, was always exciting as they rarely appeared nearer home.
Out of all the engines that we came across though, my favourite was the one that took us on these trips, the Deltic class 55. The hundred ton, hundred mile an hour kings of the East Coast Main Line. The noise they emitted from their twin Napier-Deltic engines had a visceral quality and it was a thrill for me just to be in their presence. Their shear power may now have been rivalled but their majesty has not.
They are the engines that sealed my passion for the railways.
You can see the prototype Deltic at the fabulous National Railway Museum at York http://www.nrm.org.uk
Thoughts from a Guerrilla Worker 