The orange glow of the station lights shimmered in the puddles on Platform 7 as four hardy souls peered towards Mutley Tunnel awaiting the arrival of the stock to form the “Cardiff” from Laira. It was widely speculated that “Ten - ten” would appear having worked the Down service earlier in the day. Speculation and rumour formed most of the conversations that year and, indeed, that was a lot of the fun, after all at times there wasn’t much action particularly at this late stage of the game.
On this day those present had arrived on the “Cardiff” at just gone eleven and now a mere six hours later they were hoping for a miracle as Laira was jammed packed with steam heat Duffs and Peaks and just a solitary Whizzo. Christmas `76 was a time of reckoning; we all knew that in about ten weeks it would be all over but none us wanted to give up and so what next? It couldn’t be Hoovers could it and Duffs were so boring, new engine bashing was glorified spotting, Deltics were a long way away, Piddleys were very restricted and so it fell to the Peaks ( and Laira 46s in particular ) to fill the gap as they had never harmed us in any way. Just then dim lights, reminiscent of the “0000” carried by the Thousands appeared around the corner but, instead of heading towards Platform 7 the lights veered towards Platform 5 which meant the 1745 “Stopper” to Penzance had worked and therefore there was little hope for us but, wait, it wasn’t Ten - Ten, it was “Ducks” (D1022) which had spent the last couple of days “Up in the air” at Laira.
And then yet more lights and this time they were headed in our direction. Laira had turned out two “Thousands” within in minutes and so, even at this late stage in the game you could go East or West - just like the old days! Having run around steam started to leak from all the nooks and crannies in the ageing Mark 1 “Compo” with that familiar musty smell combined with the sweet smell of the Spanner boiler which cycled and rumbled reassuringly up the front. Despite the chilly evening air all windows were taken as the starting signal winked from red through yellow to green and then the familiar orange “RA” illuminated; the signal for the Exeter driver to rev the Maybachs and head for the hills. Down past Laira it seemed incredible that the only Whizzos there were going nowhere except to the breakers. Meanwhile, up the front a small cloud of black smoke signalled the increase in revs for yet another assault of Hemerdon...........................
2. LINESIDE.
You could hear it long before you could see it because it had a heavy load in tow. And this heavy load was being hauled up a steep grade. The first you saw of the train was the twin rods of exhaust punching skywards in a “Vee” - just. The grey exhaust blended into the greying November dusk. And then the familiar rounded hood, streaked with road dust which was blue in it’s prime and then the speckled yellow front pitted with rust spots which once sparkled like the summer sun. The lines of the windows made the front look melancholy like it knew that it had but weeks to be useful - and that it wouldn’t see another spring. As it passed you could feel the power and the name? Western Lady. Behind it followed a not inconsiderable amount of six wheeled milk tanks, probably the maximum for a Thousand, calculated when they were in their prime and yet here in the twilight of their careers still laying down enough horses to lift anything the Operating Department threw at them. The beat never changed all the time it was in earshot and it was in earshot for a long time as it climbed to the summit at Wrangaton on its way to London through the November night.
3. ON THE TRAIN
Waiting at Taunton was always enjoyable; in those days there was usually some big locos on the shed and often a goods passing on the Goods lines and sometimes there was something really unusual. Today was no exception; a split box Thirty Seven screeched around the Goods lines on 7V39 - Warrington to Riverside. This was rare; 37s were rare enough but a box headcode one was big! In the old Down bay stood an immaculate Thousand. Why Musketeer, just ex Laira and sparkling in the Summer sun, was there was a mystery but never mind snap away with the Kodak Instamatic, run your hands over the plates and jump up to look in the windows; it was like having your own Western all to yourself. It was always still in those days and you could even hear the signal drop to herald the arrival of 1B03 0730 ex Padd.
This train was always a gamble even in `74 as quite often Old Oak would kick out one of the few Hoovers that had already infiltrated the Western but today the familiar hooded front rounded the corner and we’d scored! In those days there were over sixty to chose from so it was always a surprise which one turned up and this morning it was the Duchess - ten forty four - heading a BG and an assortment of blue and grey Mark 2s and a Mark 1 buffet totalling 12 vehicles. Leap into the front coach and all windows open for the move to Newton Abbot and 1A05 1155 ex Paignton which was bound to be alright because then the summers were always sunnier and every train we wanted to score did. Even now I can remember the purple card which was the Area 4 which was in turn our passport to a bashing idyll; Taunton to Newton Abbot up and down all day just stopping at Taunton long enough for a Millers chicken and bacon pie, a packet of chicken fry and a Bar Six, Top Whizzo nosh and no mistake! Sometime later, at Newton, at the top end, with just the soft summer zephyr and the soothing tick of “Beans” (D1057) on the shed to keep us interested we waited for 1A65 (1555 ex Paignton) .
Meanwhile on Number 4 crept in 1E73 behind 45020 and a rake of blue and grey Mark 1s, just an ordinary train then but now..... God what we d give to just recreate the moment! And then.... the boards cleared slowly and after an eternity, from under the girder bridge and in front of West Box, crept a bright yellow front, gleaming blue sides and a smart rake of Mark 2s. We all knew it was the “ Laughing Cavalier” because it had gone down on the 1030 from Padd but who gives a damn, we’ve scored to Taunton for the “three thirty”. The sea wall at Dawlish was always crowded back then as the good sounds reverberated around the cliffs and the amusements arcades and the ice cream stands and the hundreds of Northerners who looked in disbelief as we screamed out the windows - “My Lords!”- we all knew it would be over soon but with sixty still to choose from we were on a high and at Taunton we d score again! But gentle reader it was not always so! Sometimes Old Oak lost the plot and instead of scoring a dreaded Dub would appear and we’d have to fester, perhaps for the Edinburgh, if Bath Road were being kind but more often than not it was for a Peak on `V94 and then a bog cart home. But there was always tomorrow and another chance to do it all again, a bit monotonous eh? but we’d all give a big gold watch to do it tomorrow today wouldn’t we? And if you want a big reminder just listen to “Westerns” by Lieutenant Pigeon and listen for the track of “ Gladys” on a relief from Padd at Taunton to know what its all about: its not about the SVR or WSR its about the manic announcer at Taunton, about Mark 1s, about Relief’s (for Gods sake) about loads of us just bumming about the West, about Godfrey, about the London Lads, about the lads from the North, about all of us who were there and the time that’ll never come back, so, listen and weep......... (this was written before No 15 made it’s comeback!)