User:Keith/Sandbox - 3
RWFS on the Festiniog Railway
It all began, as great storytellers say, many years ago. There was a war on, so there were precious few places to go for your summer holiday.
One year, I think it was 1942, we went to Colwyn Bay, and I spent all my pocket money on the trams going to Llandudno. Hopefully they would be the toast rack type, where you could sit by the driver, and he would let you ring the bell, a foot pedal.
Then we had a holiday at Criccieth travelling by train, I remember changing at Ruabon, and as we had stood in the corridor from Birmingham, by running we got a seat on the train which ran through Llangollen then, and Bala Junction, Dolgellaeu all gone now. It rained the whole time. I was 7 years old, and had just had my jabs in my arm, and was very ill thus spent the whole time in bed, never realizing how close I came to the Festiniog Railway.
My Father went to the Officers Training camp near Towyn some time during 1943, and my Grandmother, who I was living with, got permission to stay in Towyn for 2 weeks with me, to be near Dad. This was my first sight of the Talyllyn Railway, for I remember being put in a slate wagon full of straw with a picnic and the three of us travelling up the railway behind the train. We were parked in a siding, and when the train passed by on the way down, we were told that we could come back in our own time. I do remember Dad in uniform having to push a bit, shouting when he had to run after us, as we picked up speed.
Moving on I went to Prep Boarding School at Wells House Malvern, which meant travelling by train, from Smethwick Junction, as we lived in West Bromwich. Here in a very cold winter seeing the ancient porter begging a bucket full of coal from a passing engine for the waiting room fire, above the seats in the carriages where there used to be views of the Seaside, were cartoons saying be careful of what you say, and a drawing of Hitler, and Goring sitting in the luggage rack. Arriving at Great Malvern on the GWR, and seeing and hearing the wheel taper at work at many a station. At the station the local taxi driver had laid up his car on blocks, and had brought out his horse drawn Hackney Carriage; he had only bought a car in 1938.
At Wells House School, the local Railway station was Malvern Wells Junction, with the LMS down to Upton-upon-Severn, and of course through the GWR single bore tunnel to Hereford. This also had large sidings for the USA Hospital trains, for the near by USA Army Hospital which after June 1944 came most nights. The Yanks would see us walking in a crocodile, and would throw sweets and chewing gum at us, to the great consternation of the masters. The Head Master, who we called “Beak”, took us boys on a camping holiday to Radnor in Mid Wales each year, again by train, from Malvern Wells Station. We travelled in a full brake van, sitting on top of all the tents etc.
At our campsite, which was very near the railway line, Beak would take us into the tunnel, where we were given an old penny to place on the line, then placing three boys in each of the gangers’ safety holes, with strict instructions not to move, we waited for a train. This soon came, and although only a tank engine plus two carriages to me at 8 years old was a monster. Once outside, clutching our pennies now twice the size. “Beak” would say,” That was fun boys”. We were more frightened of him than the train that we all agreed! You have to ask would that be allowed to day. Today the excitement would be something like Bungee jumping I suppose!
Time for Public School, September 1946, and this was at Tavistock in Devon. Living in Birmingham at the time, it meant travelling down to Bristol by LMS, then change to GWR to Exeter, then swiftly over the bridge to catch the Southern Railway “Devon Pullman” to Tavistock. This started about 1948 half going to Plymouth, and the back half complete with Observation car went to Ilfracombe. We were greeted on the platform by a frock coated Conductor, and charged 2/6 extra which included tea and hot buttered teacakes. We had still got food rationing in those days. Arriving at Tavistock the Conductor would doff his hat and wish us a happy term. “Little did he know”?
I draw a veil over the next 4 years, serf ice to say I did very little work, because the classroom had windows on two sides. On one side you had the Southern Railway with the West Country Class thundering down to Plymouth, and on the other side GWR tank engines gently pulling two coaches going to Prince Town, and Launceston, so much to see, if only I had known that it was all to soon to disappear.
I was waiting to go into the RAF to do my National Service in 1952, and the Easter before my 18th Birthday I went down by the Breakfast train from Snow Hill Station (GWR) to London Paddington, to a Model Railway show. You got a third class ticket on the train at Birmingham, sat in the First Class Diner for your breakfast, and with a little bit of care sat there for the whole journey. Arriving at Paddington a polite thank you, and rising of your hat as you passed the Driver and Fireman, could be a Castle or a County class, so noting the number for later in my ABC BR(W) book, and down into the Underground, even by 1952 the bomb damage was still very much in evidence in London.
The Model Railway Show was at the Central Hall Westminster. Here I saw a narrow gauge slate wagon on a small piece of railway track, half had stones on, the rest had weeds; I looked at this and could not make out what it meant. A young man came up and asked me to join, “Join what,” I said. He explained that I could work on a narrow gauge railway, and get a magazine each quarter for £1. I could not get my money out fast enough. That gentle reader was my introduction to the Talyllyn Railway.
I joined the RAF in September 1952, and was sent to square bashing at West Kirby for 8 weeks. This is where I travelled on Electric Trains to Liverpool, going under the Mersey, and seeing the old carriages with balconies at each end, with wrought iron gates. I also went on the Liverpool Overhead Railway, which runs right down by the docks, and as the name implies was above the street so you had a super view. What a wonderful way to travel that was. During this time, I saw a newspaper cutting in the Cambrian News dated 26th November Headlines “Race against time to save little Railway” with an address of a Mr Gilbert, secretary of the new Festiniog Railway Society who I wrote to at once, and joined.
I was trained on Radar, so being ground crew I was sent to” Whan” in Germany very close to Cologne, and Bonn. Here at the Camp an old Luftwaffe base, very comfortable after what we were used to in England, there was a street tram, which took us down about 2 miles to the local Railway Station. It was not more than about a month before I persuaded one of the German tram drivers to let me drive one of the trams. I was seen by the RAF police, and dragged before an office, who after hearing my interest in anything on lines gave me permission to work on the tramway in my free time. “Hold very tight please, ding, and ding”
Whilst in Germany, I travelled to Berlin on the famous troop train, which crossed what was then East Germany, just after the Berlin Airlift. To day it seems strange, but then the rule in the dining car for lunch, was spirits for the Officers, wine for the Sergeants, and beer for the men.
Back in Great Britain, I was stationed at Whitby on the East Coast. This must have been October in 1954, because I spent a leave in Portmadoc. I walked miles, either on the track or when impossible in the fields, until one morning feeling very brave, I tried to break into Boston Lodge. Just as I was thinking how to do it, a very gentle hand fell on my shoulder. Turning round I saw to my astonishment a dog collar which was of-course was the self appointed guardian of Boston Lodge Rev Timmy Philips. Once I told him of my interest, he produced a large key, and took me into the works. What a treat was in store for me. I can still see round the old shop, in my imagination, just before going to sleep at night, (What a sad person I am). Even 5o odd years later.
Next day I meet Alan Garraway for the first time, which was working on the simplex. He pulled two coaches out on to the Cob for the local paper to take a photo of. Mr Evans who was still the manager was there. I had met him a few days earlier in the huge office. He had on the first floor at Harbour station. This strange little man from another age.
I was invited to join Alan the next day on a trip up the line; so complete with a picnic I went to find him. First of all, I found the wooden gates to Boston lodge open, and someone had dig out the sand from the points, near an old wartime pillbox, and on to the main line. The next obstacle was to find the gates at the top of the steps from the tollgate open. I believe the old company paid a toll for any slate passing through the gate. I then passed the now quiet engine shed, and the Rev Philips house, and under the road bridge, getting wet in the process. Then the cemetery and our first crossing gates. Here I meet Leonard Heath-Humphries, and Michael Davis, for the first time. The road had been made up by the passage of time, and Lorries, although it was not tarmac the ground was pounded down, so work was very slow. “You must be very thirsty, have a cup of tea” came a voice that I can still hear now, and there was Lotty, one of the kindest ladies I have ever met. She was living in the crossing keeper’s house. Hours later we were through and on our way again, well perhaps 50 yard and the simplex was off the track. What now, Alan had all the tackle crowbars, blocks of wood, a car jack, etc. What had happened was that in the undergrowth was a set of points from the long siding, and they were half open? Getting the simplex back on the rails, was the end of our adventure for that day, and the end of my leave.
My next visit was 6/7th November 1954, when quite a gathering of people came for a journey for the first time to Minffordd Station. I sat with Mr Gilbert in one of the two carriages, with branches of trees smashing the glass windows as we travelled. Speeches, by I think the Chairman of the Portmadoc council, and a presentation to Mr Evans the Railway Manager who had completed 61 years service to the line. He started at a wage of 5/- (25p) a week.
This was the first time I met Alan Pegler, who entertained us at a buffet Supper, at the Queens Hotel.
After that, weekends of working parties were held each month, all through the winter.
I was in the last months of my service with the RAF, and I would save up all my time off to have what was call a long weekend.
I left camp on the first bus into Whitby on a Friday morning, and catching a train to Malton using what is now part of the North Yorkshire Moors Railway. They had the LNER A8’s massive tank engines, working the line. There to cross to the other platform, was a drawbridge, which swung out from underneath the platform. I changed to a York train, then at York to a Birmingham train. Arriving in Birmingham New Street, still with its Jubilee drive in the centre of the station, there was a roadway that divided the old station in half, one side the old LNWR, and the other the Midland.
I was met by one of the family business employees, and was driven at top speed to Snow Hill station; here I caught a train to Ruabon, changing again to the Cambrian line passing what are the Llangollen Railway, and the Bala Lake Rly, and so on, passing Harlech, there on one occasion. The train came to a stop for lack of steam, and we all adjourned to the pub, until the fireman came to say all was well. We arrived at last at Portmadoc, Walking down the High Street to the Owens’s Commercial Hotel for hot chocolate and talk of-course between other intrepid visitors, and most times AGWG would come and say what the job was that weekend.
A hearty breakfast and a packed lunch would see us at the station soon after 9am. Now what we did each time is jumbled up in my mind, but I do remember one time on a Saturday, we managed to cross over the road at Penrhyn, and start moving quickly along until we encountered a stone wall right across the track. This, as it was getting dark stumped us, but that evening after a large dinner at Owen’s, and a visit to one of the pubs, we decided to go very early and clear the line.
It must have been about 6 am on the Sunday morning that we started off, on buster, which belonged to Ian Smart. That was a hell ride, it only had to speeds fast, and very fast, reaching the stone wall, and pulling, dragging and throwing stones barbed wire, and posts in every direction. Well satisfied with our handy work we retired back to Port for breakfast. Passing by later on in the day the owner was rebuilding his wall back in the proper place, and gave us a cheery wave.
Another time, we passed through the old tunnel, getting wet as we went under the smoke vents reaching Blaenau Ffestiniog, and went up to the LNWR Station. I have a photo of Alan, and Trevor Bailey on the Simplex; this from my records was 5th February 1955. Another of the crossing at Glan-y-pwll showing the house I was to buy a few years later for £200, but that is another story.
Returning to my long weekend, a cold supper was laid on for us at the Commercial, on the Sunday night, and I said good-bye to those who had to go. I would have an early night, and after another large breakfast on Monday morning paying my bill, which was 18/6 (90p) dinner/bed & breakfast, & packed lunch, would walk down to the GWR station and catch the Cambrian Coast Express, where the Station Master would greet the London train complete in his GWR pillbox hat. He was a person to be reckoned with, as people would raise their hat to him as he walked down the High Street.
Arriving at Dovey Junction you could see the front half of the train coming from Aberystwyth. Once the train was joined up the restaurant car attendant would call out first or second lunch. Now here was another treat, for the Dining Car was only one coach, with the kitchen in the centre, and first, and third class seating either side. Here again I got to know the crew, and sat in the First Class most of the time. “What wonderful carriages to of had to-day”?
Arriving in Birmingham, a bus ride home, bath and tea, then down to New Street to catch the night train to York, connection at some ungodly hour to Malton, and the milk train to Whitby .Bus up to the camp, and in by 8am Tuesday Morning. I did this journey I believe 6 times.
On one occasion towards the end of July 1955. There was an engine drivers strike. To be precise the Associated Society of Locomotive Engineers and Firemen. The other union NUR drivers worked as usual, this went on for 17 days, and in some people’s thoughts was the beginning of the downward spiral, for the railways. Forcing people to try other forms of transport, and never coming back. I got to Portmadoc, and back to Birmingham, as usual, and found the evening train to York cancelled. I was due to have some leave the following weekend, so I rang up the camp, and spoke to the duty officer, who agreed to me bringing my leave forward, and the following day I was on my way back to the FR. Not being an engineer, but an extra pair of hands I helped with Prince, when she was taken round to the Tollgate, to be filled with water for the first time. This was after the train service had started with the simplex, and two carriages, as far as Boston lodge, “Pen Cob”. We had to ask the passengers to alight, then propelled the train back to Boston lodge gates, and chain shunt the carriages, and so back to pick up the passengers. Thinking about this now, it was very dangerous, as when the chain went taught I could have got my fingers jammed in it; it does not worth thinking about it now.
I left the RAF at the end of August, and spent my terminal leave on the railway, by this time Prince was steaming, and I was Station Master, ticket clerk, Refreshment room attendant, Guard, and Shunter. Then on the 9th September 1955, we had the national newspapers to recall the 10,000 passengers, in fact a family from Birmingham. This was in the first 6 weeks of running.
During the winter of 1955 I was asked if it was possible to form a Midland Group of the Festiniog Railway, so armed with the members list I wrote to all local people, and invited them to my parent’s house in Edgbaston, Birmingham. This was the start of great friendships, which still go on to day. Hamilton Bantock, Alan Pratt, Dr Brian Rogers, Graham Vincent, Rodney Weaver, Howard Meats, Hilary Phillips, Derrick Cross, Oscar Gloster, to name but a few. This then started a monthly working party, alternate to the London Group, which started a few days later. One of the first things we did was to bring a wooden wagon back to the Midlands to rebuild as our homework. We were given a car showroom in West Bromwich to work in, and got lots of publicity for the railway.
I persuaded my Father, who was not interested in railways to become one of the first Life Members, for £15, a month’s wages in those days, by the way when this was written in July 2004 he was very much alive at 95, he died just before Christmas 2004, and the last magazine he read was the FR House Mag I wonder if he was the oldest Life member? He was the owner of a Builders Merchants, so each month, paint, brushes, sandpaper, nails, creosote, and plate glass for the carriages, (this was before toughened glass was available), was taken up to Portmadoc, in one of the firms vans. We even were given by a local firm, enough plastic water piping to renew the water supply at Boston Lodge.
From somewhere appeared a cheeky Charlie of an Australian, called Blanco White, who said he knew all about Publicity, so I hung about him hoping to learn the ropes. He had a friend David Ogilvie, who had his own aeroplane. This was brought up to the RAF station at Llanbedr where special permission to land had to be obtained, for a weekend in May. It was an Auster Autocrat 3 seater, the smallest plane I had seen at that time. Flying over the FR, now looking back I wished I had taken more photos than I did.
At the first AGM to be held at Portmadoc, I was asked to join the Board of the FRS, to represent the Midlands, and at 21 years of age was very honoured to be in the company of such important railway men. That autumn the Midland Group organised A Large Railway Exhibition at Bingey Hall, Birmingham, and “Welsh Pony” made a Guest Visit.
Board meetings were held monthly, at Euston station. If you remember the Great Hall, there was a grand staircase at the far end, which led to a balcony right round the hall. Passing through one of the doors this led via a lobby into the Midland Region Line Superintendents Office. This had a table the length of the room, and every chair had the name of one of the pre grouping railways carved into the back. Norman Pearce, and myself, had to leave the meeting at 9.30, and run to catch the Birmingham train, he to Northampton, and me to Worcester.
At one meeting there was a buzz in the room when we were told that Alan Pegler had bought “4472” now being a GWR man. If they had said “6000” then I would have known King George V. So I kept my mouth shut, only to hear later that it was the Flying Scotsman, I believe the deal was an extra boiler, and another tender as well. What heady days we lived through.
I got married when I was 25, and the Director gave me a tankard with the FR engraved on it. At this time we moved down to Weston-super-Mare, in fact right next door to the Bleadon and Uphill Station, and here with a few stalwarts set up the Railway Museum, unfortunately it was before its time, and even with the visitors we had was not enough to support a growing family.
Due to matrimonial problems I had to leave Weston super Mare were I was living, and managed to get a job on the Festiniog Railway, on the sales side, during the summer of 1969. I had very little money, so had to scout round Blaenau Ffestiniog, coming across a sign in Welsh in the window of a middle house of three in Glan-y-pwll. This directed me to another house just the other side of the level crossing. Knocking on the door, and enquiring about the house for sale I was given the keys, and showed myself around. It was two up and two down, with an extension out the back on two floors, and an outside privy. Fully furnished, well somewhat. The price was £200, which I did not have, so a visit to the Midland Bank which was by the road bridge over the FfR into Duffws station, and Mr Morris the Bank Manager, who lent me the money with the words “indeed indeed”. Going to the Local Council, I acquired a grant of £2000 for a bathroom, kitchen, and rewiring. With the help of Harold Creamer who at that time had a small building firm, soon had a very snug home.
No sooner had this happened that the house on the right came on the market. Well actually there was a knock on the door, and the man next door came in and said he was moving with his family to Liverpool, and was I interested. Round I went to view. Now this was two up and two down and there were three children there as well. “Now said the man you can not have this house as cheaply as you had the first so the price is £250”.
This meant another visit to “indeed indeed” that lent me the whole amount. By knocking out the partition wall down stairs, and making one room, but leaving the walls upstairs this gave me a good size sitting room, two good bedrooms to the original house. There was a small slate walled garden, going to a point, where the railway gates of the road crossing started.
Hardly had I taken breathe than the house to the left was offered to me. This was larger than the other two, but still no inside loo or bathroom. I believe it was a quarry manager’s house. Again I heard “You can not have it as cheap as the last one £300”, so another visit to “Indeed indeed”, and again he gave me the money. I went to the Council, and got a further grant of £2500 to make this house up to date. A visit to the local second hand shop, bought enough furniture, and rented it out as a holiday house, at the princely price of £100 per week during the summer holidays. This soon paid off the Bank, and a bit more.
That winter, I was offered a house nearly by the “Tap” public house, which was no more that a barn to keep rubbish in and that was a further £2oo. I wonder now, if I had stayed how many more would have come my way. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
During that very cold winter, I spent most of my time staying with the Creamers, on their farm up behind Tan-y-bwlch sticking stamps on envelopes for the railway letter service. I also learnt a great deal about mountain sheep farming. Also the wonderful co-operation between the other Sheep farmers, on the Mountain.
The following year, just before we were to go decimal, we had a postal strike, and living in Wales, which was serviced by Lorries from the Family Builders Merchants business in West Bromwich. I was asked to go around the Area, collecting orders and cheques, which could not get through. During this time with three young children, and the added problem of having to learn Welsh in school. I sold up and went to live in Hartlebury, a village near Kidderminster, or shall we say the Severn Valley Railway. It was here that I bought 2 GWR coaches, which in the fullness of time were presented to the GWR coach group on the SVR, who have made a super job of them.
I spent some time on the Gloucester and Warwickshire Railway, where I set up a Railway letter service, but unfortunately, it failed through lack of understanding from the directors at that time. Retiring from owning and running a 50 bed Nursing Home, which my Wife Gaynor, “Welsh of-course” was the Matron. I joined Probus, the old Gentleman’s Rotary Club, and arranged for one of my old friends Dr Brian Rogers who had given lectures on the FR for many years to come to our club. He in turn asked me to help with the talk, when things seemed to fall into place. I told him that if he wished to retire, being nearly 15 years older than me, I could take his place. About 2 weeks later he rang to say OK. With hand on heart I did my first lecture to would you believe, the Talyllyn Railway Society in Bristol. So began a further episode with the Ffestiniog Railway, and I am loving it. Talking about a full, and round of life, I am now helping on the Railway Letter Post again, I hope that Harold, if he were still around would be pleased.
I was lucky enough to acquire in 2004 the “Custom House”, opposite the Harbour Station, and convert it to holiday home, so this is also keeping the little grey cells working. However if I had known at the time what hard work it as going to be I may of thought better. It took a year to get the builder to complete the work, but the Custom House has now become a back drop for many photos with the trains.