I discovered a time machine today
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I was sat on the roof of an abandoned air raid shelter
Nestling beneath our Iron Bridge between the main line and Highworth spur.
Summer sun warming the creosoted sleepers
Suddenly the whistling of wires and the clunk of a signal going off.
The rails begin to sing softly
We look to the distant Green Road Bridge
Searching for the first sign of smoke and steam
The image forms through the shimmering haze
The rails sing louder
We begin the competition.
Are the steam pipes straight or curved?
Is it a double chimney?
Is there a front plate on the leading bogey?
Will it be Brunswick green and copper capped?
Then the claims “It’s a King” “No a Castle” A Hall, a Manor or a Grange.
Now the magnificent cacophony of steam exhaust, flying pistons and driving wheels
Now being wrapped in a cloud of sulphurous, oil scented steam
Now the scribbling of the number in the rough book
Is it a namer?
Is it a cop, to be carefully underlined in my Ian Allen GWR book later?
Once we stayed late and saw the “Red Dragon” heading for Swansea and Carmarthen, due Swindon at 7:27
Another time machine taking me back to 1951
Uncle Wilf, “Pull my finger boy” Wilf who took me trackside
Behind their bungalow where I was lodged during my mother’s confinement
Sleeping with the curtains open to see
The reflected glow from the open smoke box pass across the ceiling
The lights from the carriage windows following on
Drifting off to sleep in a magical world Keith Butler
Photograph - D. Chandler
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