Thinking outside the Box Tunnel
In the Beginning was the Word,
But there was also a tunnel at Box,
Near where a young child christened Wilbert
Lay awake in his bedroom, dreaming
Of steam-powered words puffed along the gradient
By straining freight trains and groaning banking engines.
I visited the Rev Awdry’s boyhood home today,
With a train to Bath and then a bus to Box,
Followed by a walk along the Box Heritage Trail:
A Wiltshire pastoral of streams and mills,
Old inns and quarries and woods and tramlines,
A breath-taking view of the western portal of Box Tunnel,
And a shared blue plaque recollection:
“There was no doubt in my mind that steam engines all had definite personalities … little imagination was needed to hear in the puffings and pantings of the two engines the conversation they were having …”
I tried to catch the words of 4,000 navvies,
The groans of the one hundred who perished
Down there in the subterranean depths
And thirty million bricks in Box Tunnel,
Where every week, a ton of candle wax
And a ton of explosive were used;
But the only words I could catch on the wind
Were those of the genius Isambard Kingdom Brunel,
When commenting on the 131 seriously injured navvies
Who were taken to Bath Hospital between 1839 and 1841:
“I think it a small number considering the heavy work and the amount of powder used. I am afraid that it does not show the whole extent of accidents in that district.”
We retraced our steps to Lorne Villa (bed and breakfast),
WILBERT VERE AWDRY 1911-1997 Clergyman and Author
Lived here 1920-1928
Just imagine! You might stay in what was once Wilbert’s bedroom!
Who knows what conversations your night-time imagination might summon!