Chasing the Rainbow

It’s Saturday morning, and ‘the chaps’ have been caught speeding again. ’But we’re chasing the rainbow’ doesn’t really cut it with PC Rob Banks and PC Nick Gold. Quite conveniently for the law, the gates at Catcott have been closed for several minutes whilst the engine crew drop off a churn of drinking water and a few lumps of coal in exchange for a few jars of the crossing keeper’s cider. 

On the ‘The Branch’ in this remote part of rural Somerset, despite it being surrounded by watery bogs, none of the crossing cottages had running water, so it was delivered by rail in the aforementioned milk churn. For these were the good old days we all yearn for. 

I like ‘aforementioned’, it’s proper tweed clad railway enthusiast speak, rather like ‘said locomotive’, ‘said bus’ or ‘I think you might find’. It makes one sound like an expert, especially when smugly participating on toy train forums and Facebook groups whilst sat naked in front of the computer eating a pot noodle at 3am in the corner of mother’s bedroom. 

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