Pride comes before a Fall
You know the shop in John Street with all the bottles and jars and bikes and signs outside, and all the vintage toy railway engines inside: all those toy trucks and carriages and level crossings and signals and oh so much more. The one by Duffel and opposite the falafel takeaway.
Well, a very interesting man called Alec owns that shop and he is very good at repairing old train sets. He also has some very interesting railway stories.
Here is one of them. I hope you enjoy reading it or listening to it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s a true story
Alec used to be a train driver in the days when coal was a very important fuel for people to keep warm in their homes and as a source of power to keep the wheels of industry turning. Alec worked for the National Coal Board at Stonehouse, going up and down the line used by the old Dudbridge Donkey. His train comprised trucks with twelve different types of coal and Alec would deposit the coal into twelve different hoppers at a siding with a long coal dust blackened conveyor belt. He would also stop at the diesel fuel tank to fill up his thirsty locomotive. It was hard work for that 0-4-0 diesel shunter!
Alec’s locomotive was built in 1945 when this country was still at war, until the spring and summer at last brought peace. It was a sturdy locomotive, built to last, and when Alec first took control in the hot summer of 1976, he felt as happy as Larry. The diesel then was painted jet black and its name was ‘Mr. Useful’. Alec loved that locomotive so much that one day in another hot summer, when there wasn’t so much demand for coal, Alec bought some paint after finishing his shift.
The next day he set to work, carefully painting ‘Mr. Useful’ in a splendid green and yellow livery. It was also decided to rename the engine and so he was re-christened ‘Dougal’. Dougal was very pleased with his new name and very pleased with his new coat of paint. “Now I am not just useful but also very handsome,” he said to himself as he set out from the siding next day.
The boys and girls who gathered on the bridge to watch Mr Useful pass beneath were astonished and delighted to see this new, gleaming locomotive. Richard Dry, the Stonehouse boy, had been up betimes at the siding and had spotted that sombre Mr Useful was now a gleaming green and yellow Dougal. He told all his friends on the bridge all about it and they all shouted together, “Good morning, Mr Dougal!” Dougal gave them a toot on the horn and a puff of smoke to greet them back.
Everybody loved the sight of Mr Dougal – but, unfortunately, so did Dougal. He began to admire himself when he caught a flash of his reflection in a window pane or shining steel. He began to get ideas above his station. “What am I doing here, shunting dirty trucks of coal?”, he would mutter to himself as he trundled up and down the line. “Dudbridge Donkey line, indeed! Me?”
Ah! The deadly sin of Pride! Dougal began to lord it over the trucks: “I should be on the main line, don’t you know? Pulling the Cheltenham Flyer from Paddington should be my station in life. I don’t know what I’m doing here with you dirty urchin trucks. Do you remember that winter’s day when Alec left you and me in the siding with your trucks full of coal? And the next day when Alec came to my cab, there were footprints in the snow where miscreant ne’er do wells had clambered all over you and pilfered the coal. And you didn’t say a word against them. I bet it was that Richard Dry and his chums. But I shan’t put up with that any more. Oh no. It’s Paddington and the main line for me while you gather grime in the siding.”
The trucks sniggered and mocked Dougal’s swollen head and whispered amongst themselves conspiratorially. They all smiled with satisfaction: they were sure they had a fool-proof plan.
Alec, of course, was blissfully unaware of all of this. He continued to smile his contented smile as he went through Dougal’s gears, taking Dougal through his paces, beaming at the children on the bridge with a cheerful wave of the hand … until that fateful day …
Now it so happened that Richard Dry was sitting on the fence by the siding just as the trucks were hatching their plan. Richard had heard every word of their whispered plotting! He knew he couldn’t rush down the line to tell the foreman as that would be trespassing. He made his way to the foreman’s hut legally, but circuitously and laboriously. And alas! When he got there, the foreman’s hut was bare! He was too late: the foreman had left and Alec had already clocked on for his shift.
You might remember that Dougal was a National Coal Board locomotive but operated on a line owned and maintained by British Railways. The man from B.R. had just come out the day before to check the points and oil the levers for the points. The trouble was that the man had a bad cold that day and couldn’t think straight. He greased all the points levers on the main line but forgot to oil the points lever for the trucks and Dougal’s siding.
But back to Alec after clocking on. He wandered down the line to Dougal and as he had to change the points, he pulled the lever. But he was in a hurry as he was a bit late and it was dark and gloomy and Alec needed to get Dougal ready for his chores. Alec pulled the lever but as it hadn’t been oiled, it was a bit stiff, and it stuck, unbeknown to Alec, half-way. In consequence, the railway lines were not fully aligned from siding to main line.
This was also unbeknown to Dougal and unbeknown to the trucks. The trucks decided to hatch their plan and started to push and shove and clatter, laughing to themselves, when to their surprise, and Alec’s amazement when he peered from his cab, the trucks went high up into the air and then clattered down with a terrible din upon sleepers and railway line and ballast and embankment. Bedlam! Chaos! A derailment!
The trucks groaned and felt guilty, for, of course, they thought they had caused the awful mishap with a mischievous prank. Alec had no time for remorse. He walked briskly down the line to tell the foreman about the disaster. The foreman wasted no time in telephoning British Railways who wasted no time in sending down a crane to put matters right: railway sleepers and lines and trucks and Dougal all put in their right place and the right way up – all ship-shape and Stonehouse fashion.
Dougal didn’t sleep a wink that night for if such a mishap could occur when moving at such a slow gait, what might happen if he were to pull the Cheltenham Flyer from Paddington at express speed? Traumatising nightmares followed. There was only one thing to do.
He decided to apologise to the trucks for his vanity and would they have him back as their friend again? The trucks, under the illusion that they had caused the derailment, delightedly shouted, “Yes,” in unison.
And so, in short, they might have all lived happily ever after – if only the mines hadn’t been closed. But that, my friends, is another story for another time. And so, we say, “Good night. Sleep tight. God bless Alec, and Richard, and Dougal, and the trucks.” And I think we know the moral of the story, don’t we children?