'The Toss of a Coin', Chapter 10 / 2

Steam Specials and Royal Trains

One area where I inherited a really poor service was the St Pancras - Luton - Bedford suburban service, run with first generation Diesel Multiple Units (DMUs), then in a very unreliable condition. Electrification was taking place, but punctuality performance had dropped to 27% in the last year of DMU operation. We were struggling with trade union negations over the proposed ‘Driver Only Operation’ (‘DOO’) of these trains - one of the productivity principles agreed at the ‘Challenge of the Eighties’ described in the last chapter.

We eventually succeeded and in 1984 I was present at the opening of the new service at Moorgate. The improvement was immediate and spectacular. The first year’s operation saw 94% right time performance. It is interesting to note, however, that when this dropped to 87% the following year, we received more complaints than when the service was only 27% punctual. Such was the effect of the heightened expectation!

I was in charge of operations over the Settle & Carlisle and in March 1983 I was invited by York Museum’s Engineer, John Peck, to join his party in the saloon behind LMS Princess Coronation pacific ‘Duchess of Hamilton’ at Leeds and ride the footplate from Hellifield to Garsdale. Theoretically I was checking the safety of such steam specials for myself, but in reality I couldn’t resist this invitation and had a splendid day out - and got paid for it!

We had a heavy 14 coach load of 565 tons gross and - with Driver Ken Iveson and Fireman John Brown of Skipton and Inspector Arthur Morris of Preston - we left Hellifield 14 minutes late. We accelerated to exactly 60 mph at Settle Junction and held a steady 38 mph through Stainforth and Horton-in-Ribblesdale, accelerating to 45 mph and holding that on the long 1 in 100, easing to 30 mph over Ribblehead viaduct. We drifted down to Dent and Garsdale arriving just one minute late. It was most impressive, performed without any fuss, steam pressure rock steady, the engine riding like a Pullman coach.

I had an enthusiastic Loco Inspector, Phil Bassett, based in Birmingham who persuaded me - again, with not a lot of difficulty - to make an annual check on the safety of these trains by riding on the footplate from Banbury to Marylebone. In March 1985 the motive power was a former Southern Merchant Navy, ‘Clan Line’ with 11 coaches, 360 tons gross. We had Driver Brian Axtell and Fireman Brian Tagg of Marylebone and Inspector Peter Crawley of Euston. We took on 5,000 gallons of water at Banbury and set off 10 minutes late. We freewheeled the downhill stretch from Ardley summit with liberal interpretation of the speed limit despite my presence - I think they wanted to demonstrate to me the ridiculousness of the 60 limit - touching 75 after Bicester, when I was handed the shovel.

I fired from Bicester to Ashendon Junction, and maintained pressure at 220 pounds per square inch, during which time we’d observed a 20 mph p-way slack, then opened up achieving 42 at Brill Tunnel at the summit of the 1 in 200 gradient. After Ashendon Junction the steam pressure took a nose dive to 170 psi - was it belatedly my fault? However, we were on time at High Wycombe where we stopped to take on a further 1,600 gallons of water. The fireman, after discussions with the Inspector, altered the damper setting and we had no trouble with steaming for the rest of the journey, arriving at Marylebone 4 minutes early.

Later that year, in November, Phil Bassett took me himself on LNER A4 ‘Sir Nigel Gresley’ with a heavy 12 coach 460 ton load. We had Driver Trevor Barrett and Fireman Brian Tagg once more. The train arrived very late from the Eastern Region at Banbury (it had started from York) and we left 69 minutes late after filling the tender with 4,250 gallons. We crawled to a stand at Bicester waiting for the 17.40 Paddington DMU to come off the single line. Departing 91 minutes late I was offered the driver’s seat and regulator and to this day I’m convinced Phil was anticipating that I’d exceed the 60 limit and strengthen his case for that limit’s abolition. I had my college friend, train timer Alistair Wood, in the train behind, so I knew every speed would be meticulously recorded.

I quickly adjusted the cut off to 15% with full regulator as we accelerated to exactly 60 mph at Ashendon Junction, brought the regulator back to half to maintain this speed to Phil’s obvious chagrin and then opened up to full regulator again as we hit the rise after Haddenham. I must admit we slightly exceeded the limit just reaching 64 at that point but I increased the cut off to 25% as we approached Princes Risborough at 58 mph and I enjoyed myself in the darkness pulling the chord for a long blast on the chime whistle as we hurled ourselves through the waiting crowds on the platform. The steam pressure was solid at 225 psi and we maintained 54 mph on the final part of the climb to Saunderton. I had gained 15 minutes on schedule from Bicester to High Wycombe without excessive speed and I was very proud of myself! I handed the driver’s seat back to Trevor Barrett after Wycombe and just enjoyed the pleasure of the effortless run into London.

There were other enjoyable occasions to which I was invited as the LM’s senior Operations representative. My family were guests at the Crewe Works Open Days when my children particularly enjoyed climbing aboard the various locomotives displayed. I was also introduced to Ian Allan’s Great Cockrow 7¼” gauge railway at Chertsey - over four miles of track fully signalled to BR standards. I’m told that new signalling innovations, including the ‘flashing yellow’ indication were first tried out here. I was given charge of Richard Stokes’ GW ‘Mere Hall’, Mike Johns’ K3 and John Butt’s unrebuilt ‘Royal Scot’ on various visits - all by courtesy of colleagues alongside whom I’d worked.

This could be quite a test of enginemanship when it was possible to really mess up the busy schedule by running short of steam. I’m please to say I did not disgrace myself apart from giving John Butt a scare when on the first trip with 6100 I discovered rather late that the brake valve operated in the opposite direction to the other locomotives and we sailed round the first curve rather too near the safety margin for comfort. I also have a shot of my 12 year old daughter, Helen, driving a ‘Black 5’ with Malcolm Southgate, the LM General Manager, and Cyril Bleasdale, then InterCity Director, as passengers!

Throughout my time at Crewe I was Officer in charge of the Royal Train when it started on the LMR and when the Queen herself was on board. The arrangement between Regional Managers was that the Officer from the originating Region would see the train through to destination, so most fell to me (London/Euston departures) and the Western Region man (for Windsor starters). I could and did delegate the ‘mini-royals’ as they were known, to one of my other officers. I was assured before my first royal trip that a uniform bowler hat was ‘de rigueur’ for the royal officer but I was reluctant to buy such a headpiece just for that.

I solved the problem by borrowing a bowler from an elderly widow at our local church. It didn’t fit - it was too small - but I did not have to wear it, only tuck it under my arm and doff it on appropriate occasions. Margaret Halden, whose late husband’s hat it was, used to retrieve it after the trip and place it back in its immaculate box with the inscription ‘This hat has been doffed to the Queen x times’. After each tour of duty she would cross x out and replace it with x+1 and so on.

I would average 5-10 trains a year, usually starting from Euston in the late evening, stabling overnight at some remote and secret siding location and proceeding unhurriedly in the morning to the nearest station to the Queen’s first engagement. Timekeeping on this last leg was absolutely essential and I took pride in the train drawing to a stand as the second hand crept towards the twelve of the appointed minute.

I only failed once – I’d gone north to Glasgow with 87.023 as our engine (that and 87.024 were my regulars – 87.002 and 87.005 were also used from time to time). We were timed via Birmingham New Street to spend some pathing time and avoid the rush of West Coast night mail and newspaper trains, and when we drew punctually to a stand, I was informed that 87.035, waiting to drop on our rear, had just failed. 87.023 therefore ran round and we departed 6 minutes late, which we soon made up and arrived punctually at our stabling point, some half hour from Glasgow Central.

It was in January and there was an extremely heavy frost overnight and I was alarmed to see that our relief train crew had not arrived at their rostered time. When they did arrive they found they were unable to raise the pantograph of the electric loco and soon there were men in orange jackets swarming all over it. Then we found the semaphore signal controlling the exit from the siding was frozen in the on position and no-one could free it. I lost patience with the efforts to release 87.023’s pantograph and decided with the Scottish Inspector that we’d recouple the Class 47 diesel that had drawn us into the siding and propel us to Central station, with the main crew in the front loco to control the brakes. We eventually set off and I calculated that we’d be at least 20 minutes late at our destination. This was relayed to the Queen’s secretary and I awaited events, my heart in my mouth.

I suddenly noticed that we were being propelled at a fair pace – the speedometer in my saloon indicated 75mph, whereas I had thought we were restricted to 40 mph in propelling mode. Before I could take breath, I realised we were crossing the Clyde and just managed to get a message to the Queen that we were now arriving less than ten minutes late. I was told subsequently that Prince Philip was totally unready, still in his shirt sleeves at a computer although apparently the Queen riposted that she was ready as she had her hat on!

My predecessor John Gregory, had told me of an incident when he was in charge of the royal train which was a precursor to a speeding upset of my own. The Queen does not like high speed (although her ‘coasting’ comfortable speed of 70-80 mph is double that which her ancestor, Queen Victoria, permitted in her lifetime). The royal train vehicle bogies had been modified to permit 100 mph although this capability was not normally used. However, on one occasion Prince Philip had been delayed at an evening commitment and the royal car arrived some 20 minutes after the train should have departed from Euston. At that time there were still several important 100 mph night postal and newspaper trains and one was due to depart only about five minutes after the royal was ready to go. The police told John that they were not prepared to stand letting the newspaper train precede so arrangements were made for the royal train to be diverted via Northampton for the mail and newspaper trains to overtake and the royal train would use its capability to run at 100 mph as far as Hanslope Junction.

Apparently John, so he said, was sitting relaxed in the officer’s saloon thinking he’d solved that problem, when the phone rang and he heard one of the Queen’s Ladies in Waiting shouting ‘For God’s sake slow this train down! The Queen’s bath water is hitting the ceiling!’ John Gregory refrained from asking if Her Majesty was in the bath at the time or even suggesting that a body in the bath might have a calming effect on the water, but I remembered his anecdote when later I provided a few incidents from a ‘Fat Controller’s viewpoint’ to the storyteller writing the ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’ books after the death of the Rev. Awdry. I wonder if the Queen ever sat with her grandchildren watching the video in which the Fat Controller’s mother attempts to have a bath in her VIP saloon but Thomas is going too fast and her bathwater is splashing the ceiling in her coach and realises where the story originated! I was also told of another occasion when he managed to give the signal for the royal train to depart from Liverpool Lime Street and somehow failed to board the train himself. He had to commandeer a car and chase the train joining it at a suitable location half an hour later.

I managed to avoid such a misfortune, but I had my own ‘speeding’ problem. We’d left our stabling point in north Cheshire on time, but had to run the gauntlet of the West Coast main line at line speed between Warrington and Wigan before bearing off to Southport, our destination. This meant our 47 had to sustain 80-90 mph on this stretch and I had not realised that the Queen was taking breakfast during this period. We hit the 70 mph curve after Warrington at Winwick Junction at just over 60 and got an immediate frantic phone call from the royal dining saloon imploring me to slow the train as the Queen thought we had been derailed. A few minutes later we hit Golborne Junction at 84 mph against the permitted 90 and I got a further irate call to say that the Queen had spilt coffee down her dress and was having to change to a new outfit. The dining table in the royal saloon ran lengthways down the centre of the coach and so she rolled with the curve.

The expected visit to the Tower did not materialise but I soon got an understanding with the Queen’s officials that they would advise the railway when the Queen would be having a meal so that the train schedule took this into account and did not require the train to exceed 50 mph. In this case, it would have been difficult as the Sovereign does not like delaying ordinary passengers and we couldn’t have occupied the main line at the lower speed between Warrington and Wigan in the morning peak without substantially affecting other trains.

We had one royal trip, which had the potential of a number of things going wrong. The Queen was attending the Royal Show in Builth Wells on the Central Wales line and the royal train was routed from Euston to Crewe and then across to Shrewsbury and Craven Arms, the eleven coach train being topped and tailed by two class 47 diesels. There had been considerable apprehension about taking such a cavalcade down the Central Wales line where we would have to cross at least one normal DMU service. All went well, however, until we arrived at Builth Wells station. The engine drew up correctly to the white marker board, but I noticed that the red carpet did not match the door of the royal saloon from which the Queen and Prince Philip would alight. The Queen stepped out as normal and walked unobtrusively to the carpet but Prince Philip took an enormous ‘John Cleese Ministry of Silly Walks’ step of about two metres to the carpet and remarked to all present that they must have a learner driver on this morning, a most unfair remark because it transpired that the Western Region station staff had measured up wrongly - perhaps the Welsh used an ancient Celtic measuring system.

I have to say that the duty of the Officer in charge of the royal train was usually an easy task, as certainly everything on the LMR was planned down to the last detail. However, I was never relaxed until we had deposited the royal party at their destination in case anything went wrong and urgent high profile decisions had to be made. On one occasion I had to get Jim Summers, my Scottish Region counterpart, up at 2am to check our route availability from Carlisle to Aberdour via Perth instead of via Edinburgh as the police had had a phone call advising that there was a bomb on the Forth Bridge. Having got the all clear from Jim and told that the engine would run round outside Perth station, a footman rang to ask when the royal Corgies would be able to uncross their legs as the stabling time had disappeared with the diversion. We therefore rerouted the train into a Perth platform at 5am to allow the footman to walk the dogs. When we stopped the still air was rent with howling dogs for the police had turned up with Alsatians who were having Corgies for breakfast!

It was pleasant on the home run. After the royal party had alighted I would travel back with the empty stock as far as Crewe (the train went on to Wolverton where it was stabled). On one occasion returning from Glasgow in mid morning, we ran into Carlisle station middle road just as I was being served lunch on a silver platter by the royal restaurant crew. The platform at Carlisle was full of passengers awaiting the London service that was due to overtake us, and seeing me in state everyone began to wave to me. I practised my royal hand wave – I’ve no idea who they thought I was, but I’m sure most told their children that they’d seen royalty.