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13: A Dog's Life on the Railway! Railwaymen enjoy a laugh. Like most workers, they often do things they shouldn't but the very nature of railway work stops us getting too playful. What starts off as a simple joke could easily prove fatal and few railwaymen are prepared to go anywhere near that line. Some of us have been awfully close to that boundary, though, as my next tale shows. No specific rule existed to say that what we did was wrong, and none of us considered it especially dangerous. You may think differently... It was a fresh and sunny morning. On our way back from Rugeley power station we were braking for the junction at Lichfield Low Level. My driver was the same passed man involved in the bankside fire at Desford. I'd been worrying about a problem I faced the next day. Mum and Dad were stopping at my sister's house for a couple of days and it meant I'd have to leave Geordie, our pet Labrador, home alone. He'd never been on his own before and I wasn't sure how he'd behave. 'Bring him with you then,' said Dave as we passed round the curve to the high level. 'Don't be silly,' I said. 'We can't do that.' 'You can if you want to,' he insisted. Awaking next morning at 01.45, I looked out of my bedroom window at a world shrouded in freezing fog. I looked longingly at my warm and cosy bed - but I wouldn't be back in it for many hours. Geordie opened one eye, just as he did every morning. He probably wondered what on earth I got up to at such an unearthly hour. Well, today he was going to find out! After getting washed and changed I fetched Geordie off his chair. He stretched and yawned and looked at me suspiciously. He usually had his walk last thing at night, so he wasn't expecting another one. The icy wind made him even more reluctant, but after a brisk walk around the square he perked up and jumped happily into my old van. At the depot Geordie stayed in the van while I went to book on. In the office were the TCS, Dave, our guard and a few other chaps. 'Have you brought him?' whispered Dave. 'Yes, he's in the van.' 'No! I was only kidding. You haven't really, have you?' Then I saw his grin. He was having me on. He didn't really mind, and if he did it was too late now. Ten minutes later we walked across to the 56 loco that was ticking over on shed road. After stashing my bag, lamp and mash can in the cab I went to fetch Geordie. He sprang out of the back. Once at the loco I had to lift the heavy hairy hound on board. Certain signalmen in Mantle Lane box would pull off the dolly for the 03.30 Rugeley, knowing it would be going light engine to Overseal. Today was no exception. 'Quick, Tony, look who's coming.' A quick glance confirmed that Jack Manley, the shed driver, was hurrying across to see what was I up to. He didn't like anything untoward going on and it was in our interest to leave the shed as quickly as possible! 'Phew, that was close,' said Dave, looking back into the foggy gloom at the fading silhouette of a small figure in BR driver's cap holding a shed brush. We passed through Swannington Crossing and accelerated through Coleorton Cutting towards Overseal. After changing ends over the dolly to go onto our train Geordie and I walked with our guard to examine and brake test the train. The dog was in his element. Rabbits ran for their lives and pheasants flew up from the bank chattering angrily at bring disturbed. Smaller birds fluttered and chirped in the trees. Not to be left out, an owl hooted from somewhere down the Measham and Donisthorpe branch. Calm returned to the dark and misty sidings as we walked back to our engine. As I heaved the dog back onto the footplate the driver gave a short note on the horn to let the signalman in Moira know that we were ready to leave. The signal arm raised with a clunk and we set off for Rugeley. I'd been worried about Geordie's reaction whilst on board, as Class 56s can be very noisy and aren't renowned as smooth-riding locos. But I stroked his head and in a few moments he seemed fine. Our journey was uneventful and whilst unloading we ate our sandwiches. I'd brought a tin of dog food and a bowl too. There can't be many dogs that have eaten their dinner in the cab of a diesel loco. After the usual backing out and run round, we began the journey back to Mantle Lane. After negotiating the curve at Lichfield we accelerated to maximum line speed towards Wichnor Junction. I could see a wicked gleam in Dave's eye 'Here, Tony,' he said, 'can you get Geordie in my seat?' 'What for?' 'We're going to trick old Pipesey at Fine Lane.' . Fine Lane is a manned crossing. One of our guards had broken his arm a short while back and was based there doing light duties. 'Come on, you hold down the second man's hold-over button, then I'll take it while you get him in the seat.' I tapped on the seat and Geordie obediently jumped into place. We both stooped down in the cab, but Dave was still very much in charge of the train and regulated the power handle accordingly. It looked hilarious as the large dog sat there panting and looking quite unperturbed. As we approached the crossing the stable-like door opened and the large form of Pipesey appeared. 'There he is,' said Dave. Keep down now.' As we approached Pipesey extended a wave in our direction. Then his friendly grin gave way to a look of horror. His arm dropped, then we were past him. 'Right,' Dave said as we passed, 'let's get back in our places.' Geordie jumped onto the cab floor and we both got back in our seats. A couple of minutes later we approached Alrewas signal box, which had a direct phone link to Fine Lane. The signalman still had the telephone to his ear as he appeared at the window with a puzzled look. Acknowledging his wave we went on our way, laughing about our joke for the rest of the journey. That was Geordie's first and last cab ride! He never rode the main line with me again, though he often accompanied me whilst on shed or frost precautions. After his fracture mended the poor chap at Fine Lane went back as a Coalville guard. Sometime later he put took a chargeman's job at Drakelow Power Station, then decided to get a railway job in Scotland. I saw him on his last day. By that time I was a relief driver and had worked the train into Drakelow C-station. We shook hands and wished each other luck. 'Oh, and watch out for dogs driving trains,' I said as I left the room. He looked at me with astonishment. 'What do you know about that?' My train would have to wait a little while longer while I told him the whole story. 'I'm glad you told me,' he said. 'I've always wondered if I was seeing things that day. I even doubted my sanity. I rang the Alrewas signalman and told him. He thought I'd been drinking or taking drugs. He was even going to report me!' |