Can anyone describe the essence...

[chieffy123]

...of why someone would love old blue british rail in the 70's and 80's?

Hello all -

Tried posting this on another thread that was likely inappropriate, or maybe the idea was no good to begin with..but here goes again, if anyone is interested.

Only a few days into being a member here, and already heartened by the responses to my silly efforts, especially those who are clearly stuck in the rail blue 70's and 80's era
and aren't budging! For years I've been quite happy sitting blankly staring at my original copies of "Diesels and Electrics on Shed" and the "Power of" series.

Even grime moving captivated me in places like Coalville Mantle Lane, Cheltenham Spa and Bath Road back in the blue 80's.

At the behest of Acorn, a wise practitioner of this forum, I'm cautiously suggesting a thread purely for reminiscing about the good old days of Blue British rail in the 70's and 80's. The funny, the sad, the heartbreaking and the ridiculous, I'm looking forward to hearing all tales of spotting, bashing, Railrovers, British Rail cuisine, sneaking into sheds, getting kicked out of sheds, all of it.
Austin

[jbilton]

Hi Austin
There are a few of us from that time on here.
My days were 1972-78, mainly Midlands , and Manchester areas.
I know exactly what you mean.
I must have spent thousand of hours on BR, it was my second home.
Was at Derby 73,74 and 76 , Crewe 75,77.... with my cheese sandwiches and flask....so who knows might have seen you.
Cheers
Jon

[chieffy123]

Hi Jon,

Great to hear from you! I knew Derby well, and relished the visits to grandparents in Coalville to sneak up to the signal box at Mantle Lane and see those rows of 20's and 56's.
On the odd occasions of walking around the silents loco's, I was in awe of their size...the oil and grime..the buffer beams and couplings held a very strange fascination for me..I think I dreamed of being able to stroll past a group of passengers in my overalls at Paddington or St Pancras and drop down to the track and wave a 47 back onto it's train and couple her up....can't ever forget the steam escaping from the heating pipes or that smell...that unique 'left out in the rain' smell of an loco.

Crewe though was really a mecca of all meccas. Unbelievable variety of traction, like Disneyland to me and only managed a few trips.

[Chock]

Wouldn't exactly say I was in love with the old blue BR sceme, but it was the livery I first knew as far as trains go, since there was a freight railway line that ran past the back of the house I lived in when growing up. The house used to shake like crazy whenever a diesel went past hauling coal wagons. As kids, we used to play on the embankments alongside the tracks (which we weren't supposed to do of course), where those trains were a familiar sight trundling past. That tractor-like whistling engine sound is essentially the soundtrack of my childhood, and whenever I think of playing as a kid, there's invariably a blue and yellow Class 37 and the clanking ripple of coal wagons taking up slack along the length of the train in that memory somewhere.

Al

[StateTrackage]

Excellent idea! I'm not the first here, dammit, but I'm ready to make up for lost time!

I remember a friend and I deciding we were going to the Dart Valley railway for the day. Given the distance to be covered, that was one long day out. We caught an Exeter train at Basingstoke. In those days, they were still Warship-hauled and the journey down was uneventful but interesting for both of us since neither of us had actually travelled that line before. We arrived at Exeter St. David's to change trains for Totnes. It was late. Twenty minutes late, to be precise. The reason rolled in looking decidedly harrassed.

The train, we knew, was booked for Western haulage. What we got on the front end was another Warship, and man, was she overloaded! I didn't bother counting the coaches but trust me, they were filled to bursting. This was, after all, a Sunday and start of the holiday season so the level of overcrowding can be imagined. We pulled out of Totnes well behind time. Tony and I had managed to get ourselves in the first coach: hearing this poor Warship over the South Devon banks was going to be something, of that we were certain.

Well, we weren't disappointed. That Warship fair struggled over those banks but she did it, she got to the top of each and ran down the other side like she'd just been let off some kind of leash. Come Totnes, we got off, wishing our Warship well for the rest of her journey as we watched her pull away. One bus ride later and we were at the Dart Valley.

It was a good day. We took pictures and had a good look round. Unfortunately in my later years, I acquired a ruinous interest in cars and most of my old pictures were discarded. Ah, the impetuousness of youth! What they would be worth now, if only in a reminiscing sense. Then it was a bus ride back to Totnes for another train, this one headed by the booked Western. We hung out of the front window of the first coach and watched that big diesel heel into the curves, one way then the other, riding the gentle super-elevation like she was flying. Took some pictures of that, too, but, well...

The return journey to Basingstoke was, again, Warship-hauled. It was late, we were tired and it was all we could do to buy a few cans of beer (we were all of 15 years old) and settle ourselves into an empty compartment of a Corridor Second. In that long journey, we discussed economics and politics and girls and pretty much set the world on a path that we were sure was right. Nobody listened to us, though. And look at the state of that world now...

[chieffy123]

whenever I think of playing as a kid, there's invariably a blue and yellow Class 37 and the clanking ripple of coal wagons taking up slack along the length of the train in that memory somewhere.

Al

That, right there Al, is poetry

[TinsleySnail]

I'm really suprised this topic has not had more replies...

I was a spotter from the late 70s until the early 90,s. I grew up in Rotherham, South Yorkshire, and my dad (who is also a lifelong railfan) had an allotment at the end of clough rd when I was 3 years old. The line from Rotherham Masborough to Aldwarke Junction ran along the edge of the allotments and I used to spend hours stood by the fence watching the trains go by. As I got older my Dad used to take me down to Masborough station, and we started spotting together. In the summer we used to go to "donny" to see the deltics. Occastionaly we would go further afield to depot and works opend days ( I think we must have gone to every crewe open day up until around 87/88.) But one of the best thing was going to millhouses park in sheffield, where you could paddle in the paddling pools, and at the sametime see peaks thunder by with st. pancras expresses. Happy days!

We used to take regular trips to Tinsley yard too. I used to love watching the class 13's pushing wagon over the hump. Long before they put in the steps at the end of the embankment you used to have to go through the woods and through a field full of "moonpenny" dasies. I seem to remember some rather viscious ponnies too!

My aunt took me to sheffield station one evening at the end of the summer holidays, I was probably ten or eleven years old, and a clas 31 came in light engine and stopped next to us. Never being a shy boy I asked if I could have a look in the cab, and the crew let me in. After talking for a few minutes the driver asked if I would like to drive(!) the loco down the platform (can you imagine doing that now.) I sat in the drivers seat ( I could only just reach the deadmans peddle!), and the driver told me to release the brakes. Then I was told to sound the horn. I was told to pull the throttle back one notch and the loco started to move. I only got to drine about twenty yards, but I can honestly say, those twenty yayrds are still my favourite journey!

When I was old enough I was allowed to go to the station on my own, and most evenings in the summer, and nearly every saturday I would be there with my notebook, platform 5 spotting book, and tupperware box of sandwiches. The station staff were always friendly. The porter ( I think his name was John?), had an office down the end of the platform, and he used to show me the TOPS computer. At the end of the platform was the porters crossing which was guarded by lights. When the lights went out, it meant a train was coming. Out would come the notebook and pen, and if you were lucky it would'nt be a DMU, but a peak or a 47 on an express, or a pair of 20's on a freight.

As time went by, I was allowed to travel by train to shefield or doncaster. On the first day I was allowed this privalge, I spent all my dinner money on tickets so I could go back and forth all day. After the second or third time of goingback and forth the next train to Rotherham pulled in hauled by 50036. I could'nt believe my luck. This is still the only time I have ridden behind a class 50.

A year or so later, SYPTE introduced a day rover called the Out and About. These cost 25p and entitled you to all day travel on traind and buses after 9.30am. Heaven! The introduction of these tickets coincided with the withdrawal of the transpennine DMUs, which all became 31 diagrams. Every day during the summer holidays would be spent travelling around South Yorkshire behind these trains. Sometime a class 31 would be substituted with something more "exotic", I remeber a class 37 and best of all 40197. I remember being jealous of the older boys jumped off at sheffield and purchased tickets though to Manchester. I was never a basher as such but they were good times.

After a few years sprinters took over these services, HSTs took over all the NE/SW services and my interest in spotting started to wane. When I look at the state of railways these days, I am saddened by what I see. When I see posts on these boards, describing 153s as beasts I understand what my dads friends meant when they were reminising about the days of steam. In my liftime the railways have changed beyond recognition.

I would give anything to stand on masbourough station once more, the crossing lights out, the rails singing as a proper train on a proper railway comes roaring into view.

Thanks for reading

Marcus.