Sorry folks, I couldn't resist more nonsense background dribblings, so if you'd sooner, please go straight to the pickies. Thanks.
My grand children asked me a while back if I drove a real railway engine.
" Yes, I drove a fair few locos, but my favourite was my engine 92250. she was alive and had a soul"
I started to drift back in time
My good mate and regular fireman was Tony 'Shovel' Lovell and we were inseparable. In the mid.1960's Dr. 'Axeman' Beechings closed thousands of miles of track. Myself, Tony and many more rail men were made redundant. Tony and I went our separate ways, but still swapped Christmas cards - never missing a year.
Then one day out of the blue, I received a letter addressed to 'The Engine Driver'. With some trepidation, I opened it. My fears were justified. My fireman buddy had passed away.
The letter went on "Dad died peacefully and he had made a special request to us. Shortly, you will receive a parcel. In it, our dad has written instructions for you to follow. It would please him and us if you could oblige. He always talked about you and the old days........" I pocketed the letter.
Sure enough the parcel arrived. I opened it and read Tony's note. I had a job to do.....
Since my retirement, I've had an interest in tracing the whereabouts of 'retired' Locomotives, and kept a special eye out for 'Our Engine' 92250, so I knew where she could still be found.
After a long journey, I arrived at Woodham Brothers scrapyard in South Wales, and walked through the lines of rusting locos. I found our loco quietly sitting in a corner of the yard.
"Hello, old girl, it's been a long time."
A voice shouted at me.
"Oy, boy'o, what are you doing by that engine?"- I explained.
"Oh, right. O.K. when you're done come over to the shed and have a brew."
I climbed the steps on to the footplate and sat down on the remains of the driver's seat. I looked over to the other seat and Tony and I were back together again.
There he was, loading the firebox with ready lit coals and adding a bit of fresh coal, then a bit more. Then we simply sat and listened as our baby came to life. First a crackle as her heart expanded with the heat from the now red hot coals in the firebox. Then came a quiet hissing as the water in the boiler started to produce steam. Then finally, Tony would look at the dials and shout "Steam up, boss!"
I'd reach for the big brass lever and pull, she would start to move......
"You finished up there yet? Tea's ready!" called a voice from the shed.
The spell was broken. I still had one more thing to do. I reached for the parcel Tony's family had entrusted me with. I opened it......
Wrapped up inside was the only thing Tony wanted after his retirement. His fireman's shovel! The letter I received after his death informed me he always cleaned it after using it at home. His family were convinced he took it to bed with him.
Unwrapping the shovel, I whispered a silent prayer, opened the firebox doors and threw 'Shovel's shovel into the firebox as far as my arthritic hands would allow. This had been his last request.
I found it hard to see the footplate steps as I descended, it must have been the sun's glare. Strange too, I had a wet shirt front.
I headed for the shed and a much needed brew........
Before I left, I took some photos of our loco. I knew in my heart I would probably never see 92250 again.
.................................................. .................................................. ..........................................
Here are the rather too many pictures....
Cheers all and thanks for all the great, encouraging and humorous posts throughout the build.
Robert L. Stevenson
My grand children asked me a while back if I drove a real railway engine.
" Yes, I drove a fair few locos, but my favourite was my engine 92250. she was alive and had a soul"
I started to drift back in time
My good mate and regular fireman was Tony 'Shovel' Lovell and we were inseparable. In the mid.1960's Dr. 'Axeman' Beechings closed thousands of miles of track. Myself, Tony and many more rail men were made redundant. Tony and I went our separate ways, but still swapped Christmas cards - never missing a year.
Then one day out of the blue, I received a letter addressed to 'The Engine Driver'. With some trepidation, I opened it. My fears were justified. My fireman buddy had passed away.
The letter went on "Dad died peacefully and he had made a special request to us. Shortly, you will receive a parcel. In it, our dad has written instructions for you to follow. It would please him and us if you could oblige. He always talked about you and the old days........" I pocketed the letter.
Sure enough the parcel arrived. I opened it and read Tony's note. I had a job to do.....
Since my retirement, I've had an interest in tracing the whereabouts of 'retired' Locomotives, and kept a special eye out for 'Our Engine' 92250, so I knew where she could still be found.
After a long journey, I arrived at Woodham Brothers scrapyard in South Wales, and walked through the lines of rusting locos. I found our loco quietly sitting in a corner of the yard.
"Hello, old girl, it's been a long time."
A voice shouted at me.
"Oy, boy'o, what are you doing by that engine?"- I explained.
"Oh, right. O.K. when you're done come over to the shed and have a brew."
I climbed the steps on to the footplate and sat down on the remains of the driver's seat. I looked over to the other seat and Tony and I were back together again.
There he was, loading the firebox with ready lit coals and adding a bit of fresh coal, then a bit more. Then we simply sat and listened as our baby came to life. First a crackle as her heart expanded with the heat from the now red hot coals in the firebox. Then came a quiet hissing as the water in the boiler started to produce steam. Then finally, Tony would look at the dials and shout "Steam up, boss!"
I'd reach for the big brass lever and pull, she would start to move......
"You finished up there yet? Tea's ready!" called a voice from the shed.
The spell was broken. I still had one more thing to do. I reached for the parcel Tony's family had entrusted me with. I opened it......
Wrapped up inside was the only thing Tony wanted after his retirement. His fireman's shovel! The letter I received after his death informed me he always cleaned it after using it at home. His family were convinced he took it to bed with him.
Unwrapping the shovel, I whispered a silent prayer, opened the firebox doors and threw 'Shovel's shovel into the firebox as far as my arthritic hands would allow. This had been his last request.
I found it hard to see the footplate steps as I descended, it must have been the sun's glare. Strange too, I had a wet shirt front.
I headed for the shed and a much needed brew........
Before I left, I took some photos of our loco. I knew in my heart I would probably never see 92250 again.
.................................................. .................................................. ..........................................
Here are the rather too many pictures....
Cheers all and thanks for all the great, encouraging and humorous posts throughout the build.
Robert L. Stevenson
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