|
|
15: Working Supper The railways have never cared much about the social lives of their staff. But at least we could swap shifts if we needed to, a practice that went on at every rail depot. I'd intended to book time off for my 18th birthday, but it slipped my mind and I found myself down for 18.00 ferry work throughout the week of my birthday. And it was too late to do any swaps. My mate that week was Johnny Clay - or Dave as he was known to his mates. At the start of the week, whilst ferrying engines around the East Midlands, I told him about my forthcoming birthday. 'That's nice, Tony. Are you doing anything special?' Gloomily I told him that all my in-lieu days had been used up and as I couldn't swap shifts I'd be spending the week working. 'I'm not that bothered,' I said. ' I can always catch up at the weekend.' 'Not to worry,' said Johnny. 'We'll have ourselves a little birthday tea at work, eh?' After a little planning we each knew what to bring. When my 18th birthday finally came I arrived at work at 18.00 and found Johnny in the mess room chatting to other chaps. 'Have you brought the stuff, Johnny?' 'Yes, I've got it. But I've got some bad news: we have to take the Jocko to Leicester.' And so I spent my 18th birthday on an 08 shunter, tickety-bumping at 15 mph all the way to Leicester. On the ancient hot-plate a pork hock was boiling away, as were the trimmings for my birthday tea. A cork was popped and Johnny filled our mugs with his home-made wine. A proper spread in the mess room would have been better, but apart from being splashed with boiling water every time we hit a bad joint it didn't turn out to be a bad birthday after all. A few weeks later Eddie Brooks and I were on a Didcot job. We called it a 'Didcot' after the train's final destination, but we were only booked to take it as far as Landor Street, just outside Saltley depot. We'd dropped down the branch and stood at a signal at Branston awaiting the road. I went to inform the signalman at Derby power box our train reporting number and destination at signal DY 138. 'Two to go by, mate, and I'll have you on the move,' the power box told me. As the first rushed train by I shouted to Eddie 'One more, Ed' and then I went off to have a wee down at the side of the loco. With the frosty morning and the hot brake blocks the steam rose into the air. For devilment - and we've all done it - I aimed at another hot block, taking care not to breathe in. Just then the second express dashed through. A moment later the signal came off single yellow. The driver's side window suddenly dropped down. 'Come on,' yelled Eddie. 'He's pulled off.' A cloud of foul-smelling steam rose up enveloping him. With a muffled curse his head shot back in. 'You dirty bugger!' I could hardly climb the steps for laughing. Brookie, as he was known, had been the butt of my pranks many times before. It's not nice to give chewing gum to men with false teeth! In those days I played a lot of pranks on the old boys - but only those I knew I could get away with it. Cyril Kendrick, for instance. One day he would be all strict, grumbling at you throughout the shift; the next time he'd be pulling your leg and having a laugh. This in turn meant we could do the same. But before sharing the more light-hearted times I had with Cyril, I have to tell you of a more sinister thing happened as we took a light engine to Leicester... After the over bridge at Bagworth the line veers left, leaving a blind spot until it straightens up further on. We were at maximum line speed when all at once we were on top of a gang of platelayers. They scattered in every direction and how we missed them I'll never know. It shook us no end, and for the rest of the journey we felt most uncomfortable about the near loss of life. They should have posted look-out men in both directions to warn of approaching trains. Where theirs was I'll never know, but they certainly had a lucky escape! |