GHW's Railway Ramblings

A Selection of remembered things, both personal and general

Contained here are, or will be some of the things that spring to mind from time to time, sometimes prompted by topics and comments on the Club website, other times just something that has resurfaced in my mind for no apparent reason. Anyone looking for the wardrobe story however, will not find it here!

Some Personal Memories and Stories Handed Down

Why G H WOOD

Quite simply because it always seemed to be my fathers loco. I am sure he had charge of other engines during his time, but everytime I went across the road to the station to see him, it was always GHWOOD.

During the winter months he used to be fireman for my grandfather, they usually had MAITLAND for the quiet part of the year when the tourists had gone, but come spring, and the start of the holday season, the father/son team would be split up as Port Erin was home to two locos instead of one.

My grandfather usually took charge of MANNIN, taking the early "Boat Train" into Douglas discharging one set of holidaymakers from the southern towns to take their sailings home, and bringing back a fresh contingent to take their places in the hotels and boarding houses. Well respected railway historian JIC Boyd was amongst the regular visitors to the Island, usually staying in Port St. Mary. He holidayed on the Island most years from the 1920's through to the 1990's, initially with his parents, then as a married man... more of JIC later perhaps. Dad would then take the next departure to Douglas with GH WOOD, everyone used to say it was the best kept engine, almost every brass fitting would be polished to a gleam, the cost of the brasso being used met from dads own pocket, although to be fair, he was very friendly with the owner of the local hardware store where the brasso would be purchased, a fellow called Ken Quine, (more of him later perhaps) the business still exists in Port Erin, on the Main street, although Ken is no longer with us sadly.

The Foxdale Branch

I never got to travel on the short branch line from St.Johns to Foxdale, it was long closed to passengers but I have walked it a few times, This is a story told to me about one of the last workings on the line.

Some parts were needed to refurbish sets of points, this is around 1961/2, times are hard and money tight, the railway is running on a very thin shoestring so the purchase of the parts needed is out of the question. The Foxdale branch still had all its trackwork and points in place, but nothing had run on it for years, so it was decided to cannibalise some of the pointwork at Foxdale station. A train was made up in St Johns of a few of the oldest open wagons, and one of the smaller locos (at that time it could only have been No1, No8 or No14) and send it off down the branch to pick up the bits needed.

Just outside St.Johns the line crossed the road over a plate viaduct, its condition could best be described as "a bit dodgy", so the crew, having worked out their position on the list of expendibilty, decide on the following action.

Several pw men were sent down to stop traffic on the road either side of the viaduct, the loco fireman was sent on foot over the viaduct to the other side. The driver then opened the regulator just enough to get under way, and then got off the moving train.

The crewless loco and train of wagons trundled over the viaduct to where the fireman was waiting, he then climbed up into the cab and brought it to a standstill. The train, safely over what was thought to be the most likely site of any accident, carried on until it got about half a mile away from Foxdale, where it was noticed that all of the wooden wedges in the chaired sections of track had been removed, probably by locals for firewood!

Some improvisation was required by the pw department, but the train eventually made it to the branch terminus, where the pointwork was removed, loaded and taken back, using the same method of operation in reverse, to St. Johns. My Grandfather, who told me the story, said the Douglas drivers drew straws to see who had the job of taking that train, as not one of them was keen to volunteer.

Buttell's Ducks

My Grandfather always as far as I can remember, had an allotment. The sites of these allotments varied over the years, but wherever they were, he always could be relied upon to produce a plentiful supply of vegetables for the whole family, and often by trading produce, other eatables too.

At one stage he was given half a dozen ducks by a friend, to see how he would get on with them. It became practice for him to feed the ducks in his lunch break, after the arrival of the mid day train in from Douglas.

At first he would wander down to the allotment, at that particular time it was alongside the railway line on the approach to Port Erin station, just before the level crossing gates at the top of the station, after tending to the needs of his loco.

The ducks soon got into the routine though, and eventually would race along the stream by the railway line to meet the train as it arrived!

This spectacle highly amused many people, not in the least the well known landscape artist William Hoggatt.

Mr Hoggatt lived a short distance from my Grandparents house, and knew them both quite well. He could often be seen at various locations around Port Erin with his artists materials and sketch books, so it should not really have been a surprise to see him in the vicinity of the railway Station on one occasion or another, but the great duck chase had inspired him to produce a picture he called “Buttell’s Ducks”

The picture, in coloured chalks, portrayed the ducks rushing along the stream alongside the line, with the train in the background.

After Mr Hoggatt died, his paintings and pictures became very sought after, and commanded in some cases very high prices. The Manx Museum acquired quite a few of them, but many others went into private collections around the Island and around the world, “Buttell’s Ducks” vanished from view for a number of years. My Grandfather sometimes mentioned the picture in passing, but we never got to see it, save for a black and white picture that appeared in one of the local papers in an article about William Hoggatt, and it faded from our memory for a while thereafter.

Fast forward to some time after I married, my wife has a friend who runs an art gallery in Douglas, one day she had a call from him to ask about a picture he had taken in for reframing, he was curious about the title “Buttell’s Ducks”, and as we have a quite unusual surname, he wondered if she knew anything about it. When she asked me, I was able to remember the picture, and tell the story. The present owner was glad to have the story behind his picture, and by way of a thank you, we were allowed not only a viewing, but to be able to take a professional photographic copy of it, on the condition that the negatives were destroyed in the owners sight, and that we promised not to take any more copies of our “copy”.

We had the photo enlarged to full size and printed and framed, it takes pride of place in one of our rooms at home. We kept to our promise and have never allowed a copy to be made, however, in November 2010 the original picture was put up for sale at one of the Islands auction houses, and the image below is from the sale catalogue, asking price was between 3000 to 5000 pounds

Banking Engines

On several occasions, after disagreements between crews, or just for sheer devilment, the banker would followed the train it was supposed to be assisting up the hill about two feet behind, and uncoupled the crew grinning manically at the thought of their collegues sweating cobs to get the seven bogie coaches over the top.

The General Public

You have to love them! A couple of personal ones to kick off with.

Family group eyeing up the 10:15 departure, one end of the train, the loco and 15 miles of track stretching into the distance, the other end, the guards comparment and 50ft to the buffer stop.

Father of group to Stationmaster "Which way does it go?"

Prospective passenger enquires through ticket hatch "What time do the trains run"

Booking Clerk "10:15, 12:05, 2:15 and 4:15"

Prospective passenger "Do they come back?"

a few seconds silence......

Booking Clerk "No we take them to the other end and burn them"

On The Seventh Day

Far be it for me to wander into the realms of religion, but as it happens, The Good Lord did play an important part in my family history.

My Great Grandfather was, originally, a fisherman down in the North of the Island. When the Manx Northern Railway was opened he applied for, and got, a job as a platelayer on the section between Sulby and Ramsey. He moved to the gatehouse at the Kella Crossing, where most of his eleven children were born (sadly only six of them survived to adulthood).

My Grandfather joined the railway from school, worked in Ramsey until he was 16 then joined up (underage) for the Army and fought in the Great War. After he came back home he rejoined the railway, as a fireman, working his way up to junior driver a few years later.

Some time after that, the driver based in Port Erin, a considerable distance away, Thirty odd miles and two changes of train, took to religion in a big way, and told his employer that as a consequence of his new found faith, he would no longer be working on a Sunday. He was duly dismissed!

My Grandfather was next driver in line for promotion, so was offered the job based in the south, along with occupancy of the Keepers cottage at Port St. Mary station. His two sons were born in the cottage, the elder was killed during the breakout from the D Day landings in 1944, the younger, my father followed the family tradition by joining the railway after WWII, firstly as an apprentice in the sheds, but soon migrated to the traffic department as loco fireman, and then driver.

I should mention that one of my grandfathers brothers was also a railway employee, and had the misfortune of having one of his legs crushed in a shunting accident at Ramsey station in the 1920's, and one of his sisters was for many years a crossing keeper at Cooilbane and at the Kella.

My grandfather retired from the Railway in 1962, and again in 1963, 64,65, and finally in 1971, Dad left in about 64 and went on to work as a policeman at the Island Airport.

My first job on the Railway was in the summer of 1968 as a 12 year old station Assistant, I joined full time in 1977, started as gatekeeper at Ballasalla, quickly moved on to train guard, then fireman for a few years, learned the road driving, but moved on to be stationmaster at Port Erin.

I left the railway in 1989 and joined the IOM Post Office. My nephew keeps the flame burning though, he has been with the Railway for the past 10 years.

Lineside Delights

Railway author JIC Boyd commented to my father many years ago about the poor state of the fences on the IMR, and was told "Its all in hand, the Company are issuing timetables to the livestock to save accidents", the remark found its way into one of his history books later.

No Smoking

Amongst the company rules for enginemen on the IMR is the regulation that Enginemen shall not smoke whilst on the footplate, this was widely ignored and to a certain extent had a "blind eye" approach from the management, however, my father was rather taken aback when the company issued an official postcard of loco number 16, with him pictured peering out of the drivers side of the cab, pipe firmly clenched between his teeth!

Railcars

During the late 1950’s, motive power on the IMR was reaching critical levels, with engines having life expired boilers and the wear and tear of decades of continuous hard work. With passenger and goods traffic in decline and finances in a precarious state it became fairly obvious that if the railway was to continue to operate some changes would be necessary to the Motive Power department.

At the same time, over in Ireland, three foot gauge lines that had soldiered on for years were closing one by one, making alternative locomotives and Railcars available for purchase at bargain basement prices.

The IMR management looked at several possibilities, including three West Clare Railway diesels, but finally settled on purchasing two Walker railcars from the County Donegal Railway. The cars were delivered to the Island during the early 60’s, together with a makeshift turntable.

My father was one of the few enginemen on the Island who had a road licence, so became one of the first to drive the new units. They were incredibly noisy, with the Gardner Engines situated within the drivers compartment and a continuous clanking from the side rods as they travelled along. The cab was articulated from the passenger section, and that made for very interesting viewing as the units trundled along the undulating track work of the IMR. My mother was delighted when Dad was given the railcars to drive, a set of overalls would last for a whole week before needing the attention of the twin tub. The turntable was never installed, so the two units ran everywhere together coupled back to back, this led to trouble in wet weather as the unit powered had to drag the non powered car and difficulty maintaining grip on the rails was encountered

As a youngster I got to travel in the cab of the railcars on several occasions on all three of the Islands lines, the symphony of noise as they crossed the girder viaducts on the North line was fearsome! I also marvelled at the open views of the track ahead from the twin windows of the drivers cab.

Some years later during my time as a railway employee, I had the chance to drive these units for myself, it was something of an art form to get the gearbox just right, with double clutch work being necessary to change gears.

As an amusing aside to this story , the railcars were assigned to the PW department towards the end of their working days. It became practice for the Douglas team to take the Douglas facing unit, and the South team the Port Erin facing car, as they had four forward gears and only one reverse gear it meant that journeys out to work in the mornings were painfully slow, but the run home for knocking off time much much quicker!

Cover Art

The Islands Railways have featured in many magazines and publications over the years, Below is the Meccano Magazine from 1964, featuring the Ex County Donegal Railcars and My father standing alongside them at Port Erin Station. By the way, its not that the artist has not been bothered painting in the sleepers, it was standard practice on the IMR to ballast (and I use the term in its loosest sense) up to rail head height in station yards. This practice continued until the 1980's

Don't Cry For Me Argentina

And whilst on the subject of the Ex County Donegal Railcars, I must include this.

When they arrived on the Island they were reliveried into the same colour scheme as that used on the Road Services Bus fleet (all over red with a cream stripe edged with black), they kept this livery until the late seventies, when they were repainted into almost the same livery as their Irish days (maroon lower panels and cream upper, with a black roof. During 1982 a new livery was tried out, being graduated blue stripes with a white stripe central, similar to the Sealink livery being used at the time. It was certainly different, but did not last long as the livery was said to resemble the Argentinian flag, and the Falkland Islands had just been invaded! The colour scheme quickly changed to red and white.

The Train Now Departing (GHW's five minutes of fame)

http://www.bbc.co.uk/archive/steamtrains/7316.shtml

A younger version of GHW appears 14.5 minutes into the programme. Story of how this came to happen to follow.

The young man issuing tickets at Port Erin station, whose "Good Manners" are mentioned by the narrator, is now 22 years later, driving Richard Bransons Pendolinos between London Euston and Manchester.

The Firemans Lot

Although there is a certain acquired skill to firing one of the IOM Beyer Peacocks, (I never got to fire the Dubs “Caledonia”) lighting them up in the morning was not rocket science.

In the halcyon days of the railway operation the locos would have been kept on a low fire overnight, but from the early sixties it became practice to drop the fires when the days duties were finished, clear out the clinker and ash and top up the boiler before putting the loco away for the night, and allowing it to cool down.

It takes about an hour and a half from lighting up to achieving enough pressure to move the engine out of the shed. The lighting up process as I remember doing it was as follows, On arrival at work the fireman would open the firebox doors and throw in a few handfuls of paraffin soaked bundles of cotton waste, on top of these would go a few lengths of broken wooden sleepers (these would have been drying out over the previous months) and then a few shovels of coal. Then a couple of cans of paraffin were splashed over the mix, and a final clump of cotton waste was lit with a match and thrown into the firebox, with the doors being shut sharpish after it passed over the threshold!

The resulting inferno would be left to do its magic for a while whilst the crew would go about cleaning the loco, ready for the days work. The fireman would be keeping an eye on things, occasionally adding more coal and building the fire. Once there was enough pressure, the loco would be moved outside the shed, and the jet put on to increase the heat.

First train out in my day was at 10:15 am, so around 10ish the loco would run on to its train, and the fire given its final attentions before setting off. The art was to keep the safety valves feathering just below blowing off. In the old days it was very much frowned on to allow your loco to blow off, as it indicated fuel being wasted, during the time A M Sheard was general manager (1940’s to 60’s) the crews would not dare allow it to happen in Douglas Station for fear of a telling off.

The work then was steady firing from Port Erin to Ballasalla, then a more active session to get the train up the gradient to the summit of the line, midway between Santon and Port Soderick. On arrival in Douglas, more coal and water would be taken on board and the fire built up again ready for the departure back south. The line from Douglas up to Port Soderick on the return leg was hard work from the off. The drain cocks would be shut off opposite the railway workshops and the loco notched up. The gradient was steep for the first couple of miles and the fire would require constant attention, but once Port Soderick was reached, things got more relaxed, and a steady firing all that was needed, taking into account the gradients until you left Colby, then the fire could be run down for the remaining couple of miles back into Port Erin.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

Port Erin Station is (unusually for the Isle Of Man Railway) right in the heart of the village. There is the main shopping street directly across the road from the Station and loco shed. The shopkeepers appreciate the extra revenue the steam trains bring to their businesses, but occasionally have to be “understanding” when the weather takes a hand in the lighting up procedure of the locomotives. Port Erin is subject to the whims of the wind and sea mist, and on occasion the smoke from the locomotive will hang around, or worse, seep into the doorways of the adjacent shops. It is usually clear by 9am, when the fire is beginning to burn through, but can be a bit smoky at times. On one occasion I recall, we had a visit from the Chairman of the Traders Association, after a spell of two or three days of “difficult” conditions. He was not best pleased at having been kippered, and asked us, in all innocence, “Would it not be possible to move the engine down the line before we lit it up in the morning”. His mood was not improved by the reaction of the crew to this suggestion, and eventually he had to have the principles of steam power explained to him by the Station Master.

No Such Thing As A "Free Lunch", Or Is There?

The first season I spent as a paid employee on the railway, I was “Station Assistant” at Ballasalla. This job involved keeping the station area clean, operating the crossing gates and helping the rather elderly Stationmaster in his duties. He must have been in his late sixties, maybe early seventies, a die hard railwayman, very smart and a stickler for the company rules. His biggest delight was to pick holes in the staff and ticket arrangement diagrams that were sent out from Douglas to advise us of the arrangements for extra trains, if there was a mistake to be found, my elderly mentor would be on the phone to HQ as soon as he could, and quite rightly so!

He was also very much the product of the old I.M.R. age of austerity, and could be found in between trains cutting bars of soap in slices, using a cheese wire, watering down disinfectant, and, best of all, removing individual sheets of toilet paper from whole rolls, and bundling then up into packs of a dozen or so at a time for use in the conveniences at the station (one toilet bowl in the ladies and gents only). I learned a lot in the three months I was there.

We were not given proper railway uniforms, as the new management had not decided on what we should be wearing by way of corporate attire, instead, we were issued with grey nylon jackets, similar to those worn by shop workers, and, as I was to discover to my good fortune, the local tourist coach drivers.

Situated about a quarter of a mile away from the station is a spot known as “Rushen Abbey”, a tourist facility in those days, offering afternoon teas, strawberries and cream, cabaret and family entertainment. Nowadays this place is part of the Manx National Heritage Experience, and has changed to reflect the historical aspect of the old Abbey site, and give an oversight into religion on the Island. During my time at Ballasalla Station I would at first usually grab a pie and sandwich from the local shop for lunch, but on one occasion, as I had longer than usual to fill in at dinner time, so decided to take a stroll up to the Abbey and have a hot meal as a treat.

Having stood in line with a throng of tourists, waiting to be served at the food counter, I was suddenly pulled from the queue by a large man in a suit.

“no need for you to stand with the riff-raff,” he said “come this way”

I was ushered to a small table at the side of the dining hall, and was presented with an enormous plate of food, “Tuck in” said the suit and then “How many have you brought do you reckon”, before I could reply, I was joined by another grey nylon jacket wearer who took the attention of the suit.

It did not take long for me to work out the situation, the suit had obviously mistaken me for a coach driver, and as such that meant a free meal ticket!

For the rest of the season I would trip up to the Abbey, a couple of times a week, always checking there were a couple of coaches in the car park before venturing in, and always remembering to count the number of passengers alighting from the trains at Ballasala. I reckoned it was fair enough, as we brought in at least as much trade as the tourist coaches during the week to the Abbey.

A Letter From Mr Boyd

During a visit to my Mothers house a few months ago, the conversation somehow got around to how things used to be for my parents during the early nineteen sixties, in the winter time, when the Railway was working a minimal timetable and savings being made at every turn. With just a couple of crews required to provide the service trains, the surplus staff were found work to do elsewhere within the company. She could remember my father having to get the bus into Douglas, and then being sent out on whatever job had cropped up that day, whether it be helping out on the PW, working in the sheds or driving one of the Railway lorries, for the most part though, he was helping maintain the carriages in Douglas. She recalled one occasion during a snowfall, when he was forced to walk home to Port Erin from Ballasalla in blizzard conditions. Those days must have seemed very tough compared to the relative security of previous years when the service warranted crews to be working the trains to a full timetable year round.

As the conversation drifted off, my mother went into her spare bedroom and came back with a letter from railway historian J.I.C.Boyd.

My Boyd was a regular visitor to our house those days, firstly to the property my folks occupied above Martins Bank, on Station Road in Port Erin, and thereafter to “Green Lea” out on the Castletown Road.

Mum would always be grateful of his visits, because, in return for information on the goings on at the I.M.R. from my Dad, he would leave a little parcel of the produce of his family business (Ladies and Children’s Underwear!) for her, a welcome gift in hard times no doubt.

The letter itself was in the main about the impending arrival of the County Donegal Railcars on to the Islands Rails, but towards the end it mentions an enclosed list of notes, together with the invitation to my father to add any information he might think useful, J.I.C. was at that time of course in the process of writing the first edition of his I.M.R. history book, and had encountered the impregnable defences of the company when it came to getting any official information, rather telling is the line “No names will appear except under a list of acknowledgements at the end, so you are quite safe in saying what you like , IF you want to!”. Mum can remember several pages of notes accompanying the letter, and Dad scribbling comments onto them before posting them back.

My Father was very proud to receive a copy of the first edition of the book from J.I.C. funnily enough I can remember it being delivered, in a cardboard box, by the postman. Along with the book (signed of course) was a small collection of photographs, enlarged from those in print. I still have that first edition, well worn from constant reading, and most of the photo’s.

Mr Boyd continued his visits to the Buttell household up until the time that my father left the Railway to join the Airport Police, they stayed in contact infrequently after that until Dad passed away in 1969. I suppose I must have seen J.I.C Boyd on many occasions during my time with the railway, especially at Port Erin Station, but never quite plucked up the courage to say hello sadly.

After that lengthy preamble then, here are the contents of the letter, hope you find them of interest.

James Boyd & Co.Ltd

Longford Works

Hulme St

Oxford Road

Manchester 1

Telephone Central 7079

Telegrams Faith, Manchester

4 December 1961

Arthur Buttell esqr.

Dear Mr Buttell

I was very pleased to receive your letter, and to hear that all is well with you; especially so that the railway are finding you work as I am concerned that the loss of the winter train service would be yours also. I am now a very small shareholder with a very large interest, and I would certainly have been making myself known if there had been cause for it! I take it that the work is in the Port Erin area and that you are doing this work on the coaches at Port Erin and not at Douglas.

It struck me that you would possibly get the diesel job, though this was just a private opinion and I don’t interfere or ask questions - they are not of my business and would not help you! It was simply that I was going through the younger men I could recall and you seemed to be on the list, especially as you know the Port Erin road and if (the important word) the turntable is put in at Port Erin, then the car could be shedded there.

I did in fact drive these diesels on the Donegal line, But it is a long time ago (say four years) and I cannot clearly remember the cab layout as I would of a steam engine. They had identical cars on the West Clare system and I certainly drove one of these much more recently. They were a bit tricky to change gear and one had to get used to the pitch of the engine noise; there was a foot clutch if I remember and a simple gear change lever at the side. Also a dead - mans foot treadle on the floor. They are very noisy inside the drivers cab - you may know this only too well already; I used to sit on the bonnet and get a hot back end. They were also inclined to be rough in the cab but not more so than a steam engine, though the movement is quite different. The side rod brasses tended to wear loose and set up a very loud clatter (not unpleasant) so that their ring told everyone the car was on its way long before you heard the hum of the engine. Like most diesel engines, they respond best to a man who has driven a heavy lorry, but if you have no road experience you will soon get the knack. They are very swift over good track and once you have managed the engine speed in order to judge the moment to change gear, the rest is pretty straightforward. You will come home cleaner, but smelling of diesel. Mrs Buttell will insist your overalls are kept out of nose length. I would like to have the chance of a trip in them too, before they go into service.

I recommend that if you are getting a diesel you write to the Manager, Co. Donegal Railways Joint Committee, Stranorlar, Co. Donegal, Eire, and ask him if he will put you in touch with the driver of the Railcars sold to the Isle Of Man Railway The Manager is Mr. Curran and you may mention that I have taken the liberty of making this suggestion to you - he knows Mrs Boyd and I very well.

Don’t be too worried at the enclosed list of notes - if you can say anything about them, just any personal notes would be helpful. As I said earlier, no names will appear except under a list of acknowledgements at the end, so you are quite safe to say what you like, IF you want to!

I don’t think I will be coming over just for the time being; the crossing would be poor and the nights are so long. Perhaps I can manage something in February.

With al good wishes to you and yours,

James I.C. Boyd

At the time of receiving the letter, my father would have been 35 years old, he had experience of driving heavy lorries from his army days, and consequently was quite often rostered to drive the railcars. The turntables of course were never installed, the cars accompanying each other back to back everywhere they went. Dads overalls were only allowed into the house on washday, but mum says that they would last a whole week without washing when he was on the diesel!

I can remember travelling with him in the cab when the railcars used to do more or less the whole timetable, and did one journey up to Ramsey with him, it was quite an experience clattering over the viaducts and Glen Mooar and Glen Whyllin.

Playing With Electric Trains (and clockwork and steam ones)

to go here

Where Sheep May Safely Graze

I am indebted to Trackshack John Boyes for prompting this story

Reminds me of a trip on No 11 “Maitland” some years ago, we came round Ballagawne curve at quite a lick, there were sheep on the line ahead. The rather elderly drivers eyesight was "not all it could have been". No sign of slowing down I ventured, “are we braking before we hit the sheep” , "What sheep" was the reply!
At the last minute he slammed on the steam brake as we overtook the fleeing flock.
When we got into Port St Mary, The train guard wandered up to the loco. "Close thing with those sheep" said the Driver, The Guard was ashen faced, "Close?" he said "Close?, it like Custer’s last stand back there!"
Needless to say the pw crew were kept busy that afternoon, clearing up!

The following morning the Driver found that the contents of his Brasso tin had been exchanged for Mint Sauce!

Wired For Sound

You would think that The Isle Of Man Railway, in its 1980’s truncated form, would have little need of a Tannoy type system for its main terminus , after all, the trains only go to one destination and back, stopping off at wayside stations as the journey unfolds.

Maybe in the days of trains departing in quick succession to Port Erin, Peel and Ramsey, such a device would have been a positive boon, but by time Public Address systems had become affordable, the I.M.R. couldn’t, or wouldn’t afford one .

During the mid 1980’s trains were timetabled to depart Douglas at 1010hrs and at 1050hrs, the carriage sets being positioned opposite each other each side of the single platform that by then remained. On more than one occasion passengers hoping to travel on the first train seated themselves in the carriages of the second, causing the platform staff to move them, often accompanied by much grumbling from both parties.

For some reason it was thought a good idea to install a speaker system in order to end the confusion and from then on, for just one glorious season, each departure was preceded by an official message, booming out over the station yard, giving the departure time and listing the stations along the way the train was serving, broadcast “live” by either the Stationmaster, or Booking Clerk.

On a few occasions the system found other uses, calling staff to the telephone, sending junior staff on errands etc, and of course times arose when it could be used for some fun.

One particular day, after a rather heated debate between the Stationmaster and Driver awaiting departure over a last minute shunting movement, both the locomotive and its driver were blowing off excess steam at the head of the train.

A couple of minutes before the “Right Away” was given, the Tannoy burst into life.

“The Train Now Standing On Platform One Is The Four Ten Service To Port Erin, Calling At Port Soderick, Ballasalla, Castletown, Colby and Port St Mary. Also By Request At Santon, Ballabeg and Colby Level….

And now especially for the driver here is The Glenn Miller Orchestra with “In The Mood” . The sound of the famous Big Band blasting out over lower Douglas at maximum volume from a tape machine that had been placed next to the microphone.

It was generally agreed that no-one had ever seen a train leave Douglas as such speed !

A Gentle Stroll

https://picasaweb.google.com/mikebuttell/20110803?authkey=Gv1sRgCIfkz5eTsNaAmwE#slideshow/5636715930516242290

The above link is to a Picassa Slideshow of a walk along the trackbed of the abandoned Manx Northern railway I undertook in August 2011

A Further Gentle Stroll

PEEL TO DOUGLAS WALK

The link above to my walk from Peel to Douglas 2012

Grease Top?

Another amusing incident involved a cap, given to my Grandfather by the Coastguard , who were to be inspected by some dignitary along the way. After the inspection Joe took a tin of black paint to the white top of the cap, creating a passable impression of a locomans grease top hat, the I.M.R. not being in the habit of supplying such luxury items to its crews. This was all well and good, until the cap had to be used on a broken gauge glass, the hot water causing the plastic top to melt away, he was picking bits of molten plastic off his hands for a few days afterwards we are told.

The Spirit of Christmas Past ( a flight of part fantasy)

i settled into my seat, a flimsy cardboard box containing a Chocolate cake resting on my lap "Make sure you don't pick at it" were the instructions, but surely just one chocolate button would not be missed, I hoped not anyway!

My grandparents joined me after a few minutes, having made their preparations for the long journey ahead. It had been a flying visit to Ramsey, to see my grandfathers brother just before Christmas. My grandmother glanced at the cake box, it appeared untampered with, so all was well.

There was a sharp jolt as "Maitland" coupled up to its train, and the gurgling and hissing of steam as the heating began to work. I heard the stationmaster call "right away" and with a short whistle the train rumbled off, the second whistle to acknowledge the guards flag rang out, and thereafter we began to pick up speed. My grandfather was probably fast asleep as we passed through Milntown crossing, he had the ability to sleep anywhere and through anything. Grandmother looked over at him and tut tutted, shaking her head, after that she took out her knitting.

We were travelling at a fair speed now, that long straight section of track from Ramsey almost all the way to Ballaugh, the loco whistling for the gates at Ellanbane, the roar as we crossed the span of the girder bridge over the Sulby river. Lezayre Station was briefly glimpsed, no stop there today.

The carriage windows were steaming up now with condensation from the heating, so a handkerchief was employed to give back the view as we slowed for Sulby Bridge, the stop here was short, a couple of folk alighting. Then it was off again, through The Kella crossing and an even shorter stop at Sulby Gen, no passengers at all for here. The journey continued towards Ballaugh, a short delay here as a couple of passengers needed to use the station facilities, and then on to Kirk Michael, the loco whistle crying out its warning song to the gatehouses along the way.

A G van was attached to the rear of the train at Michael before the journey could continue, and then off again, the noise of crossing the spans of the Glen Wyllin viaduct always fascinated me, did the plate girders of Glen Wyllin sound the same as the lattice girders of Glen Mooar as we clattered over them?

After that it was through Skerrisdale and the skew bridge and out on to the coast, the winter sunshine reflecting from a choppy Irish Sea, the section through Gob Y Deigan as exciting as ever as we travelled on the very edge of the coast, before gradually turning inland once again at Lynague. St Germains Station passed quickly by, and speeding downhill now under a couple of road bridges the wooden building at Peel Road flashed by. Onwards towards St Johns, crossing the Douglas to Peel road as a Road Services PD2 passed underneath at Ballaleece, and then joining the Peel line for the straight run into St Johns Station, where there was a wait for the train coming up from Peel.

The elderly stationmaster spotted my grandfather and tapped on the window, the door was opened and they exchanged pleasantries for a minute or so, at the end of which a threepenny bit was pressed into my palm by the stationmaster " For Christmas, in case Santa forgets you" he says with a wink " I've heard the old being good hasn't gone so well this year".

The Peel train arrived some passengers transferred and suddenly it was time to carry on our journey. Leaving St Johns, passing the points box, under the Foxdale line bridge and through Ballacraine gates, the hills either side of the Central Valley in evidence as we continued towards Crosby and Union Mills, the light fading fast as Braddan bridge was passed under.

It was completely dark as we ran into Douglas, and I must have dozed off myself, as suddenly I was woken by the door opening and closing.

As I opened my eyes, my wife sat down beside me. "I hope you haven't been picking at that chocolate cake" she said, placing the last minute shopping over on to the back seat of the car, which was parked by the Ramsey Bakery buildings, Shoprite car park having been full. I smiled to myself as I realised I must have "done a Grandad" and dozed off in the car.

It came as quite a surprise then, later on at home as I changed for the evening, to discover half of a child return ticket from Douglas to Ramsey, and a threepenny bit in my trousers pocket.

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