Swirlywirly Thingamajig Thing

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’.

Rails to Wedmore

Here we are a Wedmore, the terminus of little recorded light railway which runs up from Shapwick Junction on the Evercreech to Highbridge line. It was to be a midway station with the line continuing to Cheddar to connect up with the GWR. But as was so often the case with over ambitious Victorian ‘railway mania’ plans, the money ran out at Wedmore.

This was partially due to apathy, drunkenness and the cost of building a railway which runs across the boggy Somerset Levels, and then up Mudgley Hill to Wedmore, this section requiring significant winding earthworks to ease the climb.

Though why the railway builders didn’t simply go around the hill we’ll never know, for on the former S&DJR network it is the norm for stations to be at least 3 miles from the places they serve.

The little locomotive has just run around its train and stopped next to the old wooden signal box for a three-way chat (more of a shout) between Deliberation Dave, Driver Douglas (originally from the Isle of Man) and nervous Signalman ‘Six Bells’ Syd.

And as usual, the conversational is about the 1 in 32 grade up to Wedmore, slippery rails, drunken pheasants that run across the line, old Mr Wilkins’ scrumpy cider, wobbly point levers, Mrs Miggins’ spiced apple crumble, land locked pirates, Morris dancing sheep, low flying cows, and of course run-away trains. The latter being a regular thing with the daily goods when they forget to pin down the brakes on the decent back to Shapwick Junction.

And finally, the more eagle eyed will notice that the engine has condensing pipes, this is due to it having a built in moonshine still, a covert conversion done at Highbridge Works during the war when there were plenty of other distractions. However, the downside is that the engine has very little power for even the shortest of train.

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Rubber Ruler

High up in the Mendip Hills, there’s a little known 2 foot gauge (or thereabouts) light railway that runs from nowhere in particular to nowhere in particular. The ‘thereabouts’ being a bit of an issue, for a rubber ruler was used to set the track gauge. 

The rubber ruler was designed so it can be rolled up and put in a pocket. But it does have its flaws, as Neil tries to work out why the train keeps derailing. But he thinks to himself ‘At least they haven’t used rubber rails and sleepers as well’. 

And finally, the train here as you’ll no doubt will have spotted, has a moonshine still and accommodation for passengers who wish to imbibe.

Grain

Tuesday afternoon, and Bill & Ted in their wheezing old Midland 3F 43216 propel a hopper wagon full of grain into the yard at Catcott, having recently arrived with the daily pick up goods from Burnham on Sea to Evercreech Junction. 

This is quite an unusual load, for usually it’s just a box van full of Airfix kits, beautiful Welsh coal or picking up bagged peat harvested from the many bogs in the area. The peat arrives by a small narrow gauge railway, you can see the shed over there to the left which often services narrow gauge railway stuff, bagged peat and the occasional moonshine still. 

The old canal in the foreground hasn’t been used for well over a hundred years for commercial traffic to and from Glastonbury, but it is a popular spot for twitchers, fishing types and occasionally Nasal Nigel who likes to hide in the tall grasses where ‘mother’ can’t see what he’s up to. 

Ah, the good old days…

Aristocat Travel

For years and years, we’ve been led to believe that these wagon are used for conveying radioactive matter. But in fact they’re for transporting wealthy important cats. Even security guards, former ice lolly makers Ben & Gerry didn’t know this until just a moment or two ago. 

Inside each ‘pod’ there is a super posh cat litter tray filled with semi precious stones and ‘beautiful’ coal to absorb moisture and odours. 

There is also a large 8k television screen showing films like, The Aristocats, Puss in Boots, various Garfield movies, Tom & Jerry cartoons, A Street Cat Named Bob, Top Cat, Catwoman and of course Cats & Dogs to name just a few. 

Sustenance is taken care of with freshly killed vermin, small birds and fish, and for a surcharge live snacks can be included. And of course there is always lashings of rich organic West Country milk and cream to wash things down. 

And finally, each cat has a deluxe bed of freshly plucked duck-down feathers to snooze on warmed by a nuclear powered radiator. Vegan cats aren’t catered for should anyone ask, but it’s something that might be looked in to subject to future demand.

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The Big Bang

 A regular Thursday in the land of the inch high. 

A former Great Eastern Railway J15 from Ipswich has been borrowed to trial on the Highbridge branch. Its light axle loading making it an ideal replacement for the elderly Midland 0-4-4 tank engines. 

Waving Waymond and Basil the Brush acknowledge the engine and its train, whilst admiring the modern parcels van and new fangled Mk1 carriage in that snazzy new maroon livery. All so very modern. 

Over to the right, the local council pot hole repair team have spent all morning polishing their not so trusty steam roller, anything to avoid filling the holes. 

Up on the Mendip Hills, the moonshiners are busy going about their illicit work, and judging by the huge cloud, another still has exploded, or Bristol has just been nuked by those pesky Russkies keen to remain the world’s number one vodka producer. 

And finally, the omnipresent Bob Geeza Cat is surveying the scene as always 🐾

WTF Wednesday

 WTF Wednesday 

In the land of the inch high most things work very well. But they’ve not been able to produce a tiny camera that works in 1/76th scale. So today they’re trialling a camera from the 12 inches to the foot scale world. 

Not only is the camera rather big (to them), processing the film could be problematic, for they’ll need to use swimming pools after dark filled with chemicals to perform the task. Printing the processed negatives will be even more of a challenge. 

To the reality…

For the camera fans, this is a 1951 vintage 518/16 Zeiss Nettar folding camera which takes 120 roll film which produces twelve 6x6cm negatives or slides per roll. The camera is fully working having been recently serviced by me. Fresh film is still readily available.

Airfix Engine Shed

 Sunday morning down at the engine shed. 

Mumbling Malcolm, Peter Peckett and Deliberation Dave are trying to justify their weekend overtime they’ve wangled, by mooching about checking and double checking what they checked earlier on. There can never be enough checks when handing such potentially dangerous machinery. 

Terry Tuttle-Thomas-Smythe and Bob Geeza Cat are also mooching about, scouting for new spots to use for their illicit hooch production, but can’t work out why there is such a gap under the locomotive shed doors. Could it be a measuring error, or has the wood shrunk? Or maybe the building has grown, but not the doors? Or did they simply not have enough wood to do a proper job? We will probably never know, but apparently Airfix based their much loved plastic kit on the building here. 

And finally, yes the smoke extractor really is a boat propeller, it reputedly coming off a WW1 Royal Navy launch which went astray and ran aground just up from Brentford Dock on the Grand Union Canal next to the old Firestone rubber factory. Why this happened, much like the loco shed doors, we’ll probably never know, but being in the land of the inch high, booze will almost certainly have been involved. That and excessive snacking on pickled winkles. 

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The Skidmark Monkeys

 Saturday morning down by the ‘water tower’. 

New to the area locomotive fireman Lonnie Doonican, who at weekends plays banjo and sings rather badly in his skiffle group The Skidmark Monkeys, calls over to Waving Wally (though it might be Waving Willy) for assistance with the water hose. 

Wally replies back saying that he must be new to the job, because whilst it looks like a water tower, it is in fact a dispensary and storage for locally produced hooch. 

“But if you want to fill up, beware your engine might take on a whole new character and will run at twice (‘two times’ for children and Americans) its normal speed. But seeing you’re in a skiffle band and play banjo, you’ll be used to such double speed jollity.”

And finally, what’s with the raised bricks on the wall to the right? That’s a secret braille type code for the partially sighted or blind and says ‘hooch’. Though only the very tallest can use it. 

~~~👀~~~

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Candy Crushers & Pot Noodlers

Thursday at Windmill Sidings - in a part of forgotten Norfolk which cannot be found on any maps. It’s first thing, and not a soul is yet to be seen next to the ancient disused windmill, which last saw traditional use 100 years before the railway came. 

However, the locals maintain it for pagan correction rituals; those with eyes too close together, witches, aggressive vegans, tee-totallers, Prius owners, those who wear spandex sports attire, Lambrini drinkers, shandy drinkers, young men who wear their jeans too low, latte drinkers, those who leave half a pint of beer undrunk, owners of metallic poo brown cars, couscous eaters, trainer wearers, politicians, despots, local government officers, those who order posh coffee in busy pubs, pot noodlers, double glazing salesman, virtue signallers, those who demand sprinkles on their ice cream, shouty people on mobile phones, Candy Crushers, banjolele players, and anyone from out of town. 

These often lost souls are attached to the windmill arms and spun around until they repent. Other than that, it’s a lovely spot to spend a sunny Thursday morning.

Clock Change

 Yep, it’s that time again! 

Deep in The Forest, twice a year, the ancient ironstone circle has to be moved to reflect the clock change here in Little England. Luckily these days it’s a little easier with cranes and other such fangled machines of the modern age. However, a little manual manoeuvring is still required to adjust for the minutes, the big machines taking care of the hour change. 

I rather wish that ‘Pickaxe’ Eddie wouldn’t use his pickaxe on the ancient stones, for I’m sure since he’s been involved twice a year, there are more stones than there used to be. I’m also sure some of the stones have changed shape too. 

Each time a stone is relocated, Double Denim Dando does a little shimmy, you can see him doing one right now. And of course Waving Wally is here to coordinate things, though to be honest he’s been waving ever since he arrived on site, so he’s mostly ignored by everyone apart from nearby dog walkers who think he’s being friendly waving at them.

So remember to change your clocks tonight. Also for those living under rock, we have a partial solar eclipse today between 10 and 12.

Annual Eye Test

 Annual Eye Test aka WTF Wednesday

Back in olden times, eye tests were performed randomly in often quite inappropriate locations, like here on the through running line next to the colliery. 

Under the watchful eye of Barry Bullhead, time and motion man from The Ministry of Mayhem (who is actually doing his proper job rather than one of his dodgy side hustles), partially sighted optician ‘Pointy’ Pellegrino is performing a random eye test on Freddy the Flag. But fear not any precious neurotics, for Freddy is keeping look out for approaching trains whilst having the test, so all is good. 

Pointy Pellegrino always ensures that everyone passes with flying colours by only choosing large letters for testing purposes, “Okay Freddy, can you see the ‘D’ in Denaby?”, to which Freddy replies “yes”. He then asks Freddy to pick out all the other letters in order on this former private owner wagon, which of course he does successfully, even though he needs glasses. 

And finally, Pointy then shouts out, “Well done, you’ve passed! Shall we use the same wagon next year if it’s still here?”

~~~👀~~~

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Dirty Old Town

Spied through the heavy open gasworks gates, Freddy the Flag waves Peter Peckett past to collect an empty coal wagon or three. Peter doesn’t really need Freddy the Flag, but he’s been waving his flag since he was knee high to a grasshopper, Freddy being a twin half cousin to Waving Willy, Wally and Waymond. 

It’s a smelly choking place which has inspired many a miserable folk song as well as paintings depicting a smoky industrial Little England where children were given an old iron railing to chew on for a special weekend treat. Not that weekends were a thing, for in those days you were expected to work every day for 21 hours, but you were given the night off on Sundays. 

The gates were originally intended for a dry dock, but were found not to be deep enough, so ended up here at the entrance to the gasworks instead. They’re usually kept open, because being so heavy they require at least three burley blokes to operate them. Though if they oiled the hinges just one would be required, but that would require a union meeting. 

~~~👀~~~

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Fixing the Potholes!

 Monday morning and the local council have turned up to fix a reported teeny weeny pothole (of course this never happens in real life) right outside the entrance of The Miners Arms. It was reported by Nasal Nigel after he was thrown out the other night for dipping his TT gauge Flying Scotsman in to his shandy and upsetting the more sensitive regulars. 

But George the landlord of the pub knows that once set up, they could be here for weeks performing surveys, risk assessments and a plethora of other jobs to make the simple task as lengthy and expensive as possible. And then they’ll only do a half job and be required to come back again in 6 months. This will of course have an impact on his pub business, and as we know pubs are struggling enough as it is. 

So to make things as tricky as possible, Rufus Hound, Bob Geeza Cat and Beryl’s new pussy, Mystic Mog, are getting in the way and making all sorts of distractions and obstacles for Jimmy Jobsworth the steam roller driver. Any resemblance between Jimmy Jobsworth are Waving Willy is purely coincidental, but in the land of the inch high, the gene pool is quite small, so they’re probably related. 

Once they’ve given up gone for health and safety reasons, the pub cook, Mrs Muggins will fill the offending hole with her porridge which is famously thick and inedible, it being mostly lard and grains of unknown origin. 

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Slow Locomotive Society

Click to zoom in and enlarge 

 Another Saturday, another rail tour operated by the Slow Locomotive Society aka SLS. 

Originally it was called the FLS, aka Fast Locomotive Society, but they’ve been struggling to hire fast express engines due to high rail tour demand and the inevitable rising hire fees. But old plodding goods engines like the S&DJR 7F 2-8-0 are easy to find, especially with the reduction of freight being carried by rail.  

Here we are at Catcott at the end of June, and because the Wimbledon Tennis event is also running, there is plenty of rain between the spells of sunshine. Wimbledon Tennis always attracts wet weather, nobody knows why, but I’ve often thought that the event could be moved to a part of the world that needs rain more than we do. 

I digress, for the day started with mist followed by clear blue skies, with the warm damp air off the Somerset Levels rising up over the nearby Mendips to produce the stormy sky and resulting blustery downpour captured in this shot. 

With the scheduled 20 minute stop at Catcott, several of the passengers, many who’ll be familiar to regular readers, have alighted to have a stretch and maybe capture a photo or two. But being in the middle of nowhere there is nothing to see apart from the simmering locomotive and its train, not even a pub to elope to for a swift one. 

Meanwhile the clever thinking local moonshiners have appeared with their new mobile moonshine production vehicle, so passengers can enjoy a few drams of super fresh hooch before being ushered back on to the train. And of course after a few shots, the rain really won’t matter at all, and possibly not the train either. 

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Dancing Guards & Pink Pandas

 

Friday morning outside The Miners Arms and it’s all kicking off.  

Railway dance trio, The Giggling Guards, are practicing their act for tonight’s talent competition at the pub which mostly revolves around juggling a locomotive lamp whilst blowing their whistles whilst dancing around a tray of moonshine. 

That’s not a euphemism by the way. But they sure are irritating, and are likely to win due to their only competition at time of writing being a 46 strong ukulele troupe with coordinated matching attire. 

They only know Folsom Prison Blues and Bad Moon Rising, both performed at double speed, which as everyone knows will way more irritating than our guard trio. Though we won’t be able to see them hiding behind their huge wall of giant songbooks which will outnumber the performers. Anyone here who is brave enough to play ukulele in public will be familiar with this of course. 

Meanwhile, reformed robber, now pretend policeman, PC Rob Banks is trying to work out who painted his car pink overnight, as loco driver Billy Banter shouts out something unrepeatable here. 

And finally, the dreaded cat is a likely suspect, but painting cars might be a little outside his skill set. But there again, he has his ways. Never trust a cat 🐾

~~~🐈~~~

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Spring Equinox

It’s the Spring Equinox today, which is one of 2 dates in the year when the day is as long as the night, and the night as long as the day, and occasionally sometime in between. 

Here we are a little while after 6am, and the sun is just coming over the horizon showering the inch high folk with its golden glow. And with it also being Titfield Thunderbolt Thursday, we have a little locomotive similar to that featured in the film to complete the scene. 

Waving Wally has many jobs, and today he’s boatman on a narrowboat which supplies those living on and around the canal with everything from canned heat, motorised kettles, tinned desiccated water, double handled broomsticks, left handed screwdrivers, fire proof paraffin, deep fried coal and of course everyone’s favourite - inside out chocolate bars. 

Meanwhile Milky Malcolm from the local dairy is negotiating a basket of bottled cream with Bob Geeza Cat, though communication tends to be hard work, and as they say, never work with animals and small children. But they will get there in the end I’m sure. 

~~~🐈~~~

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Meow meow meow meow meow meow

Harry Hunslet and Barry Bicycle are chatting away wondering what the burning wood smell is. Bob Geeza Cat replies back in meow speak saying that the wooden beer cask is starting to smoulder, it being so close to the firebox. 

Sadly neither Harry or Barry understand what Bob is saying. All they hear is ‘meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow’.

But luckily the cask is empty, its contents being finished off some time ago. 

📷

Nikkormat FT2, 55mm Micro Nikkor, Ilford HP5, 1/8 sec f22. Home dev.

St Paddy

 Like a repeat on TV here it comes around again….. with a few tweaks…

☘️St Patrick’s Day at the pub☘️

Unlikely friends, Tory hooray party girl Dizzy Lizzie and dowdy communist Rachel from accounts witness the arrival of casks and bottles illicit fake ‘Irish’ stout from Colin’s dodgy brewery in the corner of the lambing shed on his brother’s farm. On St Paddy’s they love a depth charge of creamy stout in their gin and tonics. 

Local bounder, cad and self elected middle man, Terry Tuttle-Thomas-Smythe negotiates the price, making sure he has a good cut for himself. Barry Bullhead, the time and motion man from the Ministry of Misery is here keeping an eye on the competition, one of his various side hustles which are mostly involved in illicit booze production. 

Feeble Colin really needs to get more business like if he wants to succeed and get rid of all these middle men, for these days in the pub and brewing trade things are already a struggle and are likely to get far worse after April fools day. 

Meanwhile Derek & Clive trundle past with a rogue wagon of malting barley, which has somehow or other has gone missing from a train destined for Burton on Trent. But that’s another story for maybe this time next year if the pub is still trading ☘️

The cat is strangely missing…..

🍻

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Hubert Horse Power

Over at Brew Street, one of these new fangled containers has arrived. And being an old fashioned kind of place they’ve not handled one of these ‘modern ribbed metal boxes’ before. 

But being resilient, they’ve found a couple of old flat wagons to place the container on, only to discover that a locomotive hasn’t been rostered, and even if they had one it would take hours to get up to working pressure. 

Putting their heads together, Arthritic Arthur with illusions of being the next Charles Atlas has a go at pulling the ‘consist’. Unsurprisingly this ends in failure, with Arthur further exacerbating his chronic age related condition. That’s him on the right, bless the silly old fool. 

Hubert the conversational Latin speaking horse has recently returned from the Cheltenham Festival Horse Races, having had a lovely time catching up with his many 4 legged equine pals, sipping ale, eating carrots and of course having the occasional flutter. 

And then, as if by magic he trots in whilst muttering something that sounds rude in Latin, wraps his tail around the wagon coupling and pulls the short train forward. A great result from such a clever horse. Meanwhile young Clive over to the left hasn’t looked up once from his notebook, damn youth of today and their wretched notebooks.

~~~🐎~~~

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Somerset Bog Brandy

From time to time, Taunton Fairwater Yard’s scruffy yellow Ruston PWM shunting loco is used instead of the more regular Class 08 on the twice weekly the trip working to Catcott. 

Sadly most of the line has been dismantled, but it survives as a goods only stump to Catcott to serve the peat excavations and now legal distillery producing Somerset Bog Brandy which is now enjoyed internationally for its mellow peaty character and high alcohol content.

To the extreme left, Polythene Pete and Nasal Nigel observe the arrival of the scruffy yellow engine, but they’re not allowed within 2 miles of the railway for 18 months by court order. 

This was due to them hanging around in overgrown railway cuttings and station toilets showing each other their TT scale Flying Scotsman and Coronation Scot model locomotives. The lewd sticky antics, often in full public view, were starting to upset passengers, public toilet fanatics, railway staff and photographers who frequently would get them in shot, but not in a good way. 

They’ve drawn the attention of former artisan ice lolly makers, now turned security guards Ben & Gerry who sold their business to a huge multinational conglomerate. The duo didn’t read the small print before signing the contract, which in the event paid them just enough for two ice lollies, and they weren’t even properly frozen. Muppets. 

And finally, Beryl, motoring brat-granny and hell raiser, can be seen standing on the platform, nobody knows her age, but she’s thought to be between 100 and 110. But even looking at photographs of her from back in the mid 1930s, she looks no different to now. Last week, she again lost her driving license for speeding, but knows how to charm the engine crew so she can cadge a cab ride to Highbridge where she has a hot date with a young man quarter of her age. Go girl!

~~~🧻~~~

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I Missed the lunar Eclipse!

Front End Friday and Waving Wally waves at Double Denim Dancing Dando looking out of the cab of the slowing engine pulling a short rake of hopper wagons. 

There’s supposedly engineering work scheduled this weekend at the colliery, but in reality nothing will happen of that ilk. But it’s a good way to smuggle potatoes and turnips in for a moonshine mash set up and ready in the corner of the colliery winding engine house. A different type of engineering work, but what happens in The Forest stays in The Forest. 

The reality, I had a 500mm mirror lens set up on my camera to record the lunar eclipse his morning, but I forgot until it was too late with the moon vanishing over the horizon. So instead pointed it at the Lilliputian scene here - hence the rather extreme telephoto effect. I actually quite like it for a change.

Old King Coal

The inch high wake up to find a lump of coal in the colliery sidings. Okay, coal and collieries tend to go together, but it’s a mystery as to how they got it up the mineshaft.

I found this lump of coal many years ago on the old Somerset & Dorset line near Shillingstone way before the preservationist starting doing their excellent restoration work. So I can pretty safely say that it probably fell off an engine when the line was still open. It’s not quite as big as it was, for occasionally bits get chipped away for putting in the coal bunkers of my miniature engines. Nothing replicates coal better than coal - whatever the scale. 

True story: for odd things do happen, I found a tiny lump of coal in my mother’s garden the other week whilst visiting. She doesn’t have a coal fire, and with the garden being rather small, I’d have almost certainly spotted it before whilst doing Bertie hound ‘poo patrol’. So my only thought is that maybe some steam powered aeroplane or bird dropped it, or a coal fired moonshine still exploded nearby.

 

High Speed 2.5

 WTF Wednesday 

Trials are underway for the new (old by the time it opens) High Speed 2.5 aka HS2.5 rail route which will serve parts of The Grim North (previously known as The Northern Powerhouse). 

As a cost cutting measure, an old APT borrowed from a museum is going to be used, but lack of operational power cars and overhead electrification means that other options are being explored using an ancient Sentinel steam lorry. 

Resplendent in Lichfield, Macclesfield & Stockport Railway livery, the first test train arrives at a secret location in The Forest, having covered 4 miles in a breathtaking 4 hours, making it faster that the Knutsford section of the M6 on a Friday afternoon. Result. 

The steam lorry can run on ‘any old shif’ that burns and doesn’t need rails to guide it. And due to the success of the lorry, the steel wheels of the APT carriages are going to be replaced with rubber tyres which will allow the train to use the existed road network. This will save billions which can then be invested in nonsense and other hare-brained projects to make life more complicated, expensive and miserable for us the proletariat. 

And finally, apologies to any northerners who say that The Grim North is further north, to us southerners (me) it is anything north of Watford Gap Services on the M1. 

~~~🚽~~~

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