Stopping at:
Evercreech Junction
Pylle
Festival (only open during the Glastonbury Music Festival)
West Pennard
Glastonbury & Street
Ashcott
Shapwick
Catcott Burtle Halt
Edington
Bason Bridge
Highbridge
The Miners arms is right on the boundary of the Forest of Dean, and in the last few hours has become a tax free principality like that of Somerset. This has the advantage of allowing legal moonshine production and the mining of beautiful steam coal much to the irritation of the suits in Whitehall.
Here we have Harry and his Hunslet passing the newly set up customs point on their way into the colliery to collect a few wagons of freshly mined ‘black diamond’. Though the engine appears to be burning something low grade like Nasal Nigel’s underwear
Under the watchful eye of pipe smoking Locksmith (who is smoking something special created in his huge tropical greenhouse) and Barry Bullhead from the Ministry of Mayhem, they check over the temporary barriers marking the boundary.
George the landlord of the pub has popped out with a wheel barrow to collect the toll monies, something that they hope to be plentiful, with gold and precious stones being the preferred currency
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It's 4.52 am and the little people celebrate finishing the 'Stone Henge' on the day of the Summer Solstice, and as you can see, it's a bit of a rush job with broken and misshapen stones. It was also built too small due to an error interpreting the plan due to the plan being in metres and confused with feet.
Personally I think that was means of cutting costs, hoping that ‘nobody will notice’, though tourists are frequently heard saying “oh, it’s a lot smaller than I thought it might be”.
But sadly now the railway has no further use, so it will shortly be turned in a new road called 'The A303' - though something more glamorous like 'Highway to the Sun' would be nicer, with it likely to be a popular holiday route to the West Country - especially with traffic queue fanatics and caravan fanciers from Bedfordshire called Malcolm and Doris.
With The Ministry of Mayhem yet again downgrading HS2 with a plan to make it run slower, trials are underway with motive power and rolling stock. All secondhand of course to further save costs which can then be passed on to shareholders and other investors.
The consist here will be able to run over land where the railway hasn’t even been built, the tractor making easy work of farmland and narrow country lanes as well as allowing street running in urban areas.
Only a small carriage will be required, because high ticket prices will be far too expensive for the proletariat. But that doesn’t matter, because the initial target passenger demographic now work from home anyway.
Harry Hunslet and his trusty loco pauses briefly at the end of the line by the pithead to collect an old mineral wagon still displaying a rather faded ‘Northern United’ livery. It must be a good twenty years since it last had a lick of paint, though British Railways have popped their number on it to display their now ownership.
On the buffer beam, Bob Geeza Cat is taking advantage of the heat from the engine on what is a chillier than normal early June morning. But once the clouds clear it will warm up, for there is a heatwave forecast for the weekend. Bob like all cats loves a heatwave.
In front of the engine. Freddy the Flag who comes from Wales is fairly new to the railway having learned his flag waving skills walking in front of cars to make sure that they go no faster than walking pace. But he fancied a change, so now works on the railway doing much the same, but none of the locomotive crews pay any attention to him. So with this in mind he’ll likely head back to Wales where there is quite a shortage due to the increase in car ownership and the high mortality rate of traffic calming flag wavers.
📷 Pentax Spotmatic, 28mm Tamron lens, Ilford FP4 film.
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A once in a lifetime achievement photograph as celebrity snapper Ivan Locksmith manages to capture the passing of the up and down Devon Belle, or is it down and up? I’m sure you the loyal viewer/reader will be able to tell from the angle of the light and highly distinctive giveaway location.
Travelling in the observation coach, retired bank robber and stockbroker Edwin Smythe-Groom-Pynch, his feeble son Hilary (known as Hells Bells by his public school mates) and timid semi estranged wife Fiona ‘Fifi’ are travelling in style.
When booking the tickets he thought that the observation car would be facing forward in the direction of travel. He has however calmed down after having a go at the locomotive fireman who handed him a lump of burning coal from the firebox as a thank you souvenir for being so delightful and charming.
The Devon Belle, reputedly named after pole dancer in a Soho club frequented by leading members of the Southern Railway publicity department was an express train which ran between London Waterloo, Plymouth and Ilfracombe.
When ordering tickets, you couldn’t choose your final destination, whether you ended up in Plymouth or Ilfracombe, that being left to the whim of the ticket office. Your tickets were handed over in a gilt envelope which could only be opened after purchase. For this reason, the service only ran between 1947 and 1954, the wealthy moving to air travel to continue the joy of never quite knowing where they or their luggage might end up.
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Today, Taunton Fairwater yard’s scruffy yellow peril of a shunting engine is pottering about with a couple of random ballast/aggregate hopper wagons. I’ve no idea why this train is in the colliery yard, but as regular readers will know, not a great deal of what I post makes a great deal of sense, certainly from a railway prototypical point of view.
But ‘moving on’, using the language of the work-from-home former office kids of the corporate world, former artisan ice cream makers, now turned security guards, Ben & Gerry have spotted Bob Geeza Cat mooching about and are chasing him away.
I’m not sure why, for such a place isn’t a dangerous spot for a nimble cat, but certainly not a good place for Ben & Gerry who could easily slip or trip in pursuance of this pointless activity. But I suppose they do need to be seen to be doing something, because their role will almost certainly be target led like so many things today.
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Arthritic Arthur has just climbed down from the engine to couple a few wagons up during the morning shunt. But he’s now struggling to get back on the engine, so will quite likely simply go to the pub which is just out of frame to the left.
But retirement beckons, so soon he’ll be able to get back to his ever expanding bungalow garden gnome collection without the distraction of work. Rumour has it, his gnome collection is even bigger than most DCC sound fitted BR Blue Class 37 locomotive collections owned by TMD owners - but having seen and photographed many such layouts over the years, I think that’s quite unlikely.
He’ll hopefully also be able to finally complete a miniature working windmill that he currently has on the kitchen table. Mrs Arthritic Arthur will be pleased, though rumour has it she’s just another gnome in his collection, for she’s never been seen.
Meanwhile Bob Geeza Cat looks down from his lofty perch, Bob as many here will know, always appears when there are nefarious things about to happen.
Pic grabbed on a 42 year old Zenit 12XP (found just a mile way on Marketplace for £15) 50mm Zeiss Jena Tessar. Ilford HP5. Smoke borrowed from a photo I took at the Watercress Line Steam Gala a few week ago, also on film.
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Their chariot to be honest isn’t really up to the task, for these cars are tiny, and the rear leaf springs should have been replaced years ago, and there’s certainly not any room for even one cask. Maybe the old narrow gauge wagon can be used, but it’s only a 300 foot line built to transport freshly caught breaded fish fingers and potted winkles to the kitchen of the quayside pub just out of shot to the right.
Sadly for Slap & Tickle, it looks like they’ve failed in their first task for TTTS, so they’d best go back to entertaining the local ciderheads with their fiddle, flute and banjo.
At Fountain Colliery, Harry Hunslet has decided to fire his engine with old rubber tyres and moonshine which has produced around 33% more power than usually expected from Forest of Dean coal.
The result is some serious clag of the sort that will get neurotic electric milk float drivers twitching with horror over their organic granola and spring water breakfasts.
And talking of breakfast, my post is a little earlier today, due to Bertie hound who bases his time on when to get up around the level of brightness and decibel level of the birds, which is currently a couple of minutes earlier every morning.
This was fine, for the bathroom was needed, so sorted out the little fella (the hound, not my Flying Scotsman) with his breakfast. But then I spotted a huge number of feathers surrounding a headless pigeon in the garden, probably the result of the local crows fancying a bit of sport. So a hole was dug at the end of the garden so I could bury the headless deceased bird. I then placed a heavy plant pot over the grave, in the hope that the local suburban fox population won’t dig it up for their breakfast.
I shall now have my breakfast.
Ps. I never found the pigeon head, but I imagine the local crows have a huge collection of pigeon heads as trophies lining their evil lairs.
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Here we are deep in The Forest outside The Miners Arms, and as part of a special joint scientific test, officially requested by The Ministry of Madness and The Department of Smog, loco crew Harry Hunslet and Smokey Sid are seeing how black they can make the surrounding skies by burning dried peat dredged up from the forest bogs. Of which there are many.
It’s all part of a plan to make the world darker, more miserable and colder to offset climate change. If successful, the railways will rather than eliminate steam, start building new locomotives especially designed to run on the lowest grade smokey coal possible, rubber tyres, discarded socks and underwear previously worn by teenage boys and old men who collect bus numbers.
Electric milk floats will be converted to run on neat crude oil, and everyone with a garden or back yard (if from the grim north) will by law be forced to burn their rubbish, especially plastic waste every Sunday.
And finally, refuse collection will now only happen 3 times a year, or every 3 years if in Birmingham.
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Pentax Spotmatic, 28mm Tamron Adaptall lens, Ilford FP4.
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“Oh I say, a duel, how very sporting!” mutters Arthritic Arthur as he staggers off the engine furthest away, “2 engines verses a single steamroller, I think we might have an unfair advantage, hey ho!”
Meanwhile Bob Geeza Cat and Rufus Hound are having their very own duel which involves simply staring at each other, the first to blink will lose the chance to win a churn of rich Devon cream.
Pic. Pentax Spotmatic, 28mm lens. Ilford FP4. 1/4 sec f22.
Wednesday morning and ‘Jinty’ 47276 slowly propels a rake of 16 ton mineral wagons under the aggregate loading screen. It’s a slow old process, but needs must and all that.
Grey suited, hard hatted aggregate inspectors and part-time conspiracy theorists, Billy Nut and Tony Job, are discussing the need for all the aggregate and where does it all go.
Billy is convinced that the crushed yellow stone is ground up in to a powder and put in to cheddar cheese as colouring and to add that crunch to vintage cheddar.
Toby Job’s theory is that the finely ground stone is dumped in to the upper atmosphere for the rain to bring down “it’s a ploy you know, set up by car wash industry to boost trade, especially with those who own a black car”.
And so he continues “Colour film manufacturers are also behind it, because all that yellow dust makes for more spectacular sunsets, and is good for colour film sales. If ever you go to a camera club, 94% of all photographs in the weekly competition are sunsets, with only the remaining 6% being taken up with flower closeups”.
So here we are in The Forest Of Dean and it would appear that the Ruston has joined the fleet of decrepit engines that serve Fountain Colliery. Despite a huge discount to attract a buyer, in the end British Rail had to pay for the colliery to take charge of it.
BR even threw in an old ballast brakevan used on the dreaded weekend engineering trains as a thank you. Whilst the colliery railway will have little use for the brake van, I’m sure the local hooch producers will find it a useful place to install a moonshine still.
What happens in The Forest, stays in The Forest. Hush hush.
Here we are on a lovely Saturday morning, and it’s time for weekend engineering works, something which most know has been enshrined law since 1883.
The regular rail replacement bus is in the workshop, so a narrowboat has been called in to action to cover for the bus, which is lucky, for the old coal canal runs parallel to much of the railway. Though there might not be a great deal of space with all the casks and barrels.
However, the nautical rail/bus replacement service should prove popular, for the local moonshiners are also onboard producing their latest boozy tincture. Samples and sales will almost certainly be available for those travelling by boat today, something which is guaranteed to eliminate any minor discomfort caused by the cramped conditions.
And finally, you can be assured that Double Denim Dancing Dando will put on some high energy entertainment with some magnificent tap dancing - all to the time the narrowboat engine…. Kerdunk kerdunk kerdunk kerdunk….
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At an unknown location, quite possibly somewhere along the Thames Valley, a short passenger train catches the evening light sometime in the early 1960s.
Note the long welded rails. Such permanent way inspired PECO to produce their revolutionary flexitrack, so popular with model railway builders, track mat and locomotive fiddlers worldwide to this day, and probably well in to the future, and maybe even beyond.
The more nasally afflicted will notice and want to squeal out that the signal box is displaying that of ‘Highley Signal Box’, which of course is nowhere to be found in the Thames Valley.
In Cold War years, much like in WW2, such antics were often carried out to confuse attempts at espionage. It would also flummox railway workers who thought they’d turned up for their shift in the wrong place. Okay, that bit might not be true.
I’m a bit short of new colour photos, so you’ll have to suffer black and white today. But this is real black and white, it being taken on proper black and white film. 35mm Fomapan 100 black and white film from the Czech Republic to be precise, they being famous for their older style black and white range of films. I wonder how many times I can get ‘black and white’ in to this post? Let’s just leave black and white here, and move on before this post gets rather dull and grey…..
Now to what going on in the photo, here we are at Catcott again, and it’s another Saturday rail tour, but rather than it being an SLS (Slow Locomotive Society) trip, this is one by arch nemeses, LCGB - Locomotive Club for Girls and Boys. Very few girls are in the club, apart from over protective bigger sisters and mothers who join up so they can keep an eye on their loveable younger siblings and offspring.
You’ll notice that few of the passengers have alighted to take a look at their train during the scheduled 15 minute stopover, something which might even include a run-past, schedule allowing of course.
Looking more closely at this photo, many of the passengers appear too old to pass as children, but back in olden times we tended to look older. This wasn’t helped by the geriatric tweed and hessian attire which was passed down through the generations. And of course we must remember that children worked in mills and down mines whilst smoking Captan Full Strength, or Craven A if they were an aspiring type hoping to work in an office one day.
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Douglas (formerly known as ‘Doug’ until he lost his spade) and Deliberation Dave, watch Harry and his Hunslet push a rake of empties up the steep gradient in to the colliery.
In winter times this can be a hard work, with wet rails making the slippery process challenging. On such days, the incoming rake of wagons is either split up, or an extra engine helps to pull from the other end.
But today it’s dry and mild, so after a good run up, there is little problem as the 0-6-0 engine propels its motley load of wagons up the 1 in 20 with great gusto. On such days there are sometimes spectacular smoke effects, especially if keen photographers pop a little money behind the bar of the nearby Pedant & Armchair pub for the loco crew at the end of their shift. Though it would appear today that the monies have not been forthcoming.
And finally, Bob Geeza Cat, who rumour has it is half fox, complements the cameo, probably due to the promise of some warm kippers.
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Freddy Flag and Harry Hunslet have just noticed Bob Geeza Cat on the hot tin roof of the pithead building (though actually it’s probably asbestos), so they briefly pause to check he’s okay - which of course he is, being a geeza of a cat.
Unlike most cats, Bob doesn’t generally go for height, preferring a lap or a warm footplate to curl up on for his obligatory 23 hours snoozing every day, including bank holidays. But of course the warm roof doubles up as a good place to observe comings and goings, something Bob has always been good at.
Wagonholics will have noticed the old Northern United wagon, a well known Forest of Dean colliery, but the wagon is now in BR ownership with BR number painted over bottom left. The decades old paintwork is just about holding up along with various repairs over the years, but the wagon will no doubt soon provide wood for the annual colliery Guy Fawkes night later in the year. This event is always very spectacular, with the huge fire being fuelled by moonshine heads (aka foreshot) collected over the year, they can’t be drunk, but they sure burn well.
The pithead used to have two identical sheaves (winding wheels), but one of them got damaged by a rogue meteorite, so has been replaced with a much smaller one (in the reality our cat ate one of the 3D prints!), bodged up from two wagon wheels placed face to face.
And finally, how it was taken using a 1966 vintage Mamiya C33. Kentmere 400. 1/2 sec, f32
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Serene Sunday
Due to the very short platform at Catcott Halt, Evercreech bound trains block the level crossing for a few minutes. But there is no rush, for there is little if any road traffic apart from the occasional tractor, hedgehogs, ducks wanting to cross the line and drunks crawling several miles home after a night on the tiles in nearby Glastonbury.
Loco crew Pete & Dud, are on the footplate chatting to former go go dancer, now crossing keeper Cynthia Dando about the weather, that ‘new skiffle music’ and last night’s toad in the hole pub game session down The Crown, which was quite a rowdy one by all accounts.
Then conversation moves on to the missing ridge tile which blew off after a recent moonshine still explosion, “I really need ‘a man who can’, for hubby Arthur will really struggle to get up on to the roof with his arthritis. If one of you two strapping lads could help me, I’ll make it worth your while”.
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Radstock shed’s ‘Jinty’ (though they were called ‘Bagnalls’ on the S&DJR) 47276 simmers next to the rotary aggregate swirlywirly loading thingamajig thing at Cement Quay.
Everything is a little mucky, but nothing compared to what goes on in the minds of the inch high who are strangely lacking here today. Probably those darn aliens again I imagine.
However the loco lamps are spotless, positively gleaming in fact. But as we know an old rag soaked in hooch can work wonders even with the filthiest of things but maybe not the minds of the inch high.
I no longer have this layout, it now lives beyond the grim north in the land of haggis, bagpipes, blokes called Jimmy and deep fried Mars bars. It’s been known to get out on the road from time to time too with the Scottish Diesel and Electric Group
And finally, some might spot the tangled up locomotive 3 link coupling. This is the railway equivalent of ‘knickers in a twist’.
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