'The Toss of a Coin', Chapter 2 / 2

Joining the railways (part 2)

The following year I spent more time acting as the Running Foreman’s Assistant in the main office block (before my banishment to the new train crew depot). I was actually in charge of booking the engines out to their jobs as well as receiving other depot messages about incoming locos turning round at Ranelagh Bridge. Although I tried to manipulate some turns, in fact my scope for choice was very limited. We had the practice of keeping the best locos on the same turns for weeks (as opposed to the Eastern Region method of allocating specific engines to regular crews). The distances involved on the Region - to Bristol, Cardiff, Gloucester, Worcester and Wolverhampton - all meant that the loco and crew could do ‘out and back’ easily in the day and the loco be serviced and ready for the same turn next day. Only on the West of England to Plymouth or on the through turns to Swansea were engines not turned back immediately and many crews at that time worked ‘double-home’, ie they lodged overnight on a two day diagram.

The top link engines got best Welsh coal - Oakdale or Markham - whilst the second link engines went to the other side of the coaling stage and got briquettes or worse. I could choose which ‘Castle’ to banish to act as Ranelagh Bridge standby - one of my predecessors, I was told, had regularly despatched the old rebuilt ‘Star’ 4037 ‘The South Wales Borderers’ when it was at Old Oak (around 1956) to stand there in the knowledge that it looked superb with its huge polished nameplate, but such was its reputation for rough riding that no foreign crew would think of taking it unless their steed was a total failure!

Whilst at Old Oak I was given the opportunity for my first ‘official’ footplate ride by a very generous and sympathetic shedmaster, Ray Sims. He had obtained a pass for me to ride the 11.05 Paddington – Gloucester and return diagram and allocated one of Old Oak’s best Castles, 7001 ‘Sir James Milne’, on the turn for my initiation, knowing that I would have a very comfortable journey in which to learn the art of firing which he guessed would be offered to me. After Swindon my rite of passage began in earnest as I was handed the shovel and expected to keep steam up as we climbed to Sapperton Tunnel, a feat accomplished although I have to say not all the coal found its way into the firebox at the first attempt. I had expected to have a clean up and eat my sandwiches during the Gloucester break, but Inspector George Price who was my mentor on that occasion had other ideas and took me round Gloucester cathedral – the sight of two boilersuited men, one still filthy from the enforced exercise, must have seemed a little odd to the other tourists and pilgrims!

A couple of months later, Ray Sims hinted that I might like to apply for a second pass and I duly received one for a return trip to Wolverhampton on the 9 o’ clock Paddington. I joined 6015 ‘King Richard III’ (the first King fitted with a double chimney) on the turntable at Old Oak and went up with it to Paddington where we awaited the Inspector. Departure time came and there was no sign of the Inspector, the train crew said ‘Not to worry’ - they were happier without - so off we went. A good punctual run ensued, but I was left to my own devices at Wolverhampton. As I was wondering what to do - I still had a return footplate pass, but no particular train was specified - I saw 5032 ‘Usk Castle’ backing on to an Up express. I introduced myself to Driver Bert Griffiths and Fireman Forrester of Stafford Road and was made most welcome. Until Banbury we were hampered by a presence of a horse-box marshalled behind the engine, restricting us to 60mph (why was this permitted?) but after Banbury we went to town and whirled our 13 coach load to 84 mph after Ardley and through Gerrards Cross. When I got back to Old Oak I found that everyone was searching for me - the Inspector had turned up at Paddington for the 09.10 and had waited for me. I was deemed to be in trouble until they examined my pass which was clearly made out for the 09.00 and not the slower 09.10!

It wasn’t always undiluted pleasure. Emboldened by this I applied to the Southern and was granted a footplate pass for the 9.0am Waterloo as far as Salisbury. Unrebuilt ‘West Country’ 34026 ‘Yes Tor’ backed on in good time, but for the first and only time in my experience I was made less than welcome by the footplate crew. The driver (Cross by name and cross by nature) complained bitterly that he didn’t want a passenger and I made to dismount, but was stopped by the Inspector. However, the driver was an absolute misery and kept muttering under his breath all the way, until after Andover, the Inspector suddenly asked me what my highest speed on the footplate had been, and when I said 84, he persuaded the driver to let 34026 run down Porton bank until we touched 87. I think the Inspector was sorry for me and I had a lingering hope he might, to compensate, take me back to Waterloo on the footplate of the Up ‘Atlantic Coast Express’, with which I returned to the capital, but no such luck.

At the time, as an enthusiast ‘in heaven’, the impressions of the locomotives were uppermost. In later years, it was the interaction with the people I met there that stood me in good stead in my railway management career - Ray Sims, Norman Willis, the Chief Clerk, Billy Gibbs, the fitters who humoured me, the character who realised after a few hours that I did not swear and apologised profusely that he called a spade a spade (he didn’t - he called it an f****** expletive deleted spade; when he was telling me what to do I almost had to stand, notebook in hand, extracting the odd word that meant something from the string of obscenities preceding and succeeding it).

Following college vacations spent at Old Oak Common in 1957 and 1958, I graduated from London University in 1960 with my degree in Modern Languages (with my aforesaid special skill in interpreting twelfth century German poetry) and began to seek a career on the railway. I had anticipated an interruption through an obligation to undertake my deferred two years’ National Service in the armed forces, but during my Finals I had received a letter informing me of the abolition of this requirement. I framed the letter and hung it in my bedroom and began to seek employment.

However, by the time I had left college in June 1960 I had missed that year’s intake into the Traffic Apprenticeship scheme and therefore, with the help of contacts made earlier, joined the Western Region London Division’s Passenger Train Office as a ‘Class 4 clerk’ - the junior grade. Perhaps as an omen of things to come, I was made redundant within two weeks of my induction, and filled the post of an ‘Office Junior’ without any apparent change in my pay or role - which was sorting Guards’ Journals, a document prepared for each journey indicating the locomotive number, train formation, number of passengers and time gained and lost by the engine, signal checks, speed restrictions, station overtime etc. Part of my job was to refer any significant signal delays to the District Signalling Inspector for explanation - an activity that was not well received by experienced time served Inspectors from the hands of enthusiastic young new entrants to the service!

After three months I regained my status as a class 4 clerk, being put in charge of the production of the ‘Daily Manuscript Notice’ - a document that was compiled, roneo’d and distributed each day to stations and depots in the Division, indicating last minute changes to the timetable, the schedule for specials and relief trains and formation strengthening to accommodate surges in traffic and special parties - a need I would identify through scrutiny of train loadings from the Guards’ Journal records and the details of bookings from the Party Section. The culture of the day can best be illustrated by one incident I remember vividly - I was summoned before an angry General Manager (Keith Grand) one day to explain why, during his morning promenade along Paddington’s platform 1, he had seen the chocolate and cream formation of the ‘Cornish Riviera Express’ despoiled by one maroon coach at the back. Apparently I should have required Old Oak depot, in my Notice, to attach a suitably liveried vehicle or leave the train short-formed! When I rang his secretary to arrange for my interview in which I was to be dressed down, his secretary suggested I should come in the early afternoon. When I duly arrived, quaking at the prospect, she told me to go back to work as he was never fit enough in the early afternoon to see anyone after his usual alcoholic lunch, she would tell him that I’d fulfilled the appointment and that I’d hear no more about it. I didn’t.

During the spring I duly applied for the Traffic Apprenticeship scheme and as a staff entrant, took the exam and passed the interview ready to start in the autumn of 1961. However, in the interim, after nine months or so in my first clerical job, I applied for promotion to a Class 3 post in the Freight Train Office where I was in charge of special and out-of-gauge loads, a subject on which I knew virtually nothing, but apparently I was the only serious applicant for the post, so I was appointed. My boss was astounded, he told me that it had taken him 25 years to get his first promotion from Class 5 clerk (a grade long abolished) to a Class 4! Although my new office was next door to the Passenger Train Office, the culture was as different as could be. The regime in the Passenger Office was to work and play hard - that is when we had a lot to do, we knuckled down, took short lunch breaks and worked till everything was done without claiming overtime. When things were slack, we took longer breaks and went home when everything was finished for the day. There was a lot of interplay and banter between staff and a lot of laughter - some of a black nature when we were under pressure.

In the Freight Office everyone watched the clock and tried to look occupied, whether the work existed or not. Throughout the day silence reigned, you could hear the occasional rustle of papers. The phones rarely rang - in the Passenger Office they never seemed to be silent. At one minute to five o’clock everyone would rise, put on their overcoats and at five o’clock precisely the room would be empty. One day I had a bout of hay fever or some allergy for which I was prescribed some anti-histamine tablets with a warning that they could make me drowsy. I duly turned up to work and within half an hour my head was down and I fell into a deep sleep. I woke at midday - and no-one noticed, or if they did, said nothing. I had a desk in the corner of the room so I was not too conspicuous, but even so… I was not happy in this atmosphere and it was with some relief that I commenced my management training less than three months after promotion to this section.