BOX MEMORIES

I started a short career on the big railway as a box-boy, shant say where. It was a C class box on a mainline. As things went in the 70's on BR no surprises that at 16 I was only allowed near the frame to clean it, but in reality after about 2 months I was doing it all as all 3 regular signalmen had 2nd jobs. We had a signwriter, and 2 mail order salesmen, one selling bus photos and the other train photos. Signwriter liked a drink so often nipped over the road for a liquid lunch. On said day on my tod I accepted a down freight whilst running an up slow into the local,thought I saw a circuit 'flick' on the up line further up but no signals dropped so I thought 'bunnies'. Accepted the up fast with the up slow in the local platform. Rang the box ahead to ask if the down freight was running slowly coz he was taking a while to clear, Charlie said he was running normal speed. Almost straight away a down signal phone rang and a VERY out of breath voice "second man........ 1101 Norwood freight..................just spread the train over both tracks,so I politely thanked him and said I would provide assistance, not really, head left body for a while then remembered the up fast*. Threw every thing back then rang 6-6 and watched a cig-big-cig formation instigate an emergency stop from a line speed of 90 as she ran through the station, it's very noisy. Then rang the pub,engaged,and I really don't know how I worked all this out but I rang Control at Croydon, Loco dept, S+T, Pub again engaged, Station Master, P-way and found a number for the breakdown gang/train finally got through to the pub and got himself off his a&se then remembered to let the local rag know (never did get that fiver). Remembered the second man so called back to say all was sorted, sat back feeling quite pleased with my handling of the situation. Himself arrives with those immortal words "what the **** have you done" so I stutteringly said that the freight had derailed itself but that I had let every one know what had happened, but by now was rather crest-fallen. He surveyed the frame with the backstops still buzzing, looked at the diagram and then called me a *$£% for not filling the kettle and putting it on " because the world and his effing wife will be descending on us soon" ----
* I had recently read LTC Rolts Red For Danger, I think I owe him one.

 

love it.....

 

Further to the above another event occurred which almost proves the old adage fact can be stranger than fiction. Signwriter was not only a staunch communist but obviously a firm believer that lightning never strikes in the same place twice as he resumed his forays to the pub fairly soon after the derailment. His leaving shot was normally in the vein of don't **** anything up again?? or I,ll rip yer b***s off. There was a small yard on the downside and we had a regular empties run departing in the up direction and I had learnt how to effectiveley dispatch said train. So when the porter/shunter Joe Curryroll, (yep that's what we knew him as, his family name was unpronouncable) called to say she was ready to go I grilled him as well as a 16 year old can and got the answer 3 mins so duly set the road for him from yard across down local, down main, up main and in to up local satisfied all was in order and returned to the train register. Some minutes later Signwriter phoned to make sure I hadn't effed anything up and to check for keys or something were in his parka pocket. While doing this the describer buzzed and I accepted the up fast. I put the phone down and automatically pulled off for the up main and the system let me complete a conflicting move!!!! I went to my desk and the heard the Brush type 4 open up and start crawling across the down local and only then twigged what a pickle I was in. Now having been privy to the conversation between various drivers after the derailment of the potential laxative effect of dropping a red on them at high speed I studied the fasts progress and returned my starter to danger ( he was running on automatic signals on that stretch so was still on greens) but I was a bit perturbed that distance to the freight on the crossover was a bit short so dropped the home as well knowing that the fast would run through green then onto a double yellow. Finally the freight cleared to the up local and I gave the fast all greens, but he passed a bit slower than usual. Stupidly, in retrospect, I kept quiet and when ---- came back I said nought. A couple of hours later as we were building up to the evening rush-hour a down semi-fast pulled into the platform and almost straight away the down starter phone rang. “Get that boy, wassee want” said ----. All I can say is I learnt a whole new vocabulary as it was the driver of the up non-stop demanding to know in mainly 4-letter words why the road had been cleared only to have it shut back in preference to an effing emptie's. Christ if he had really known what was occurring. Well I proclaimed my innocence, and he replied B******S I saw them effing lights bouncing up and down all the way from................,twas then I remembered that there is about 8 miles of straight road before ours so he probably did see it all. I put the phone back and ---- said “waddee want” and feeling really peed off coz that was a failure in my books something got the better of me and I said “he called you a commie £$&^” “effing drivers” he said into his paper
Several weeks later in the yard Joe Curryroll actually managed to switch a set of facing points between the bogies of the Brush 4 rendering it as pissed as ---- got.