Thomas the Tank Engine Social Context
Ye Prologue
My childhood – and that of my older sister and brother – roughly straddles that of the children of the Rev Awdry and Margaret. We were born in Swindon, the home of the GWR and, once upon a time, the town’s railway works were the largest engineering site in western Europe. So, I grew up with steam. I may not have read any of the Rev Awdry’s books as a child but steam was my chapter and verse text in Swindon and occupied my mind and every one of the five senses every day and night.
I was born at home in a pre-fab in a street shared with families whose dads had seen service in WW2 (my dad had been in north Africa and in Burma behind Japanese lines in the Chindits); our home was regarded as a model council-house and even though we could not afford any of the Rev Awdry’s books, we had ten volumes of Arthur Mee’s The Children’s Encyclopaedia to enhance my early education. But I didn’t possess any of the Thomas the Tank Engine tales until I read the Ladybird series to my children as bedtime stories.
Yet even though I had none of the books as a child, if you were born, as I said, where I was and when I was, then steam was in your blood. And to illustrate this, here’s a piece I penned about thirty years ago about when I first went train-spotting with my brother.
Do you remember that lazy afternoon?
Back in August 1958?
Well, I bloody well do mate.
We were sitting on the bunker
At the end of platform four,
Just by the giant semaphore signal,
When 5050 ‘The Earl of St Germans’
Came steaming, Brunswick green and brass dome gleaming,
To a shrieking, whistling halt;
And you showed me how to record the numbers,
In a three-penny red memo book
(Weights and measures on the back),
And how to underline name and number
In my half-crown Ian Allan train book,
And you opened the door to magic:
Happy years at the Iron Bridge, the Greenbridge,
And the Bunky Bridge on the Highworth line,
And on Vickers Armstrong outings with our badges,
After you trapped your thumb in the leather strapped door,
And the milepost says it’s seventy-eight miles and a furlong
From Swindon Junction to Paddington;
Or sneaking on to the station
When you couldn’t afford a platform ticket,
Staring at the Five Boys Chocolate,
And the machine that stamped your name for a penny,
Or watching the trains from the Milk-bank,
Or a signal box with its clunking, clanking levers,
Then taking me inside the Railway Works
On a school holiday Wednesday afternoon,
Queuing to walk through that hallowed entrance,
Then along the tunnel into a Wonderworld
Of mechanics, machines, girders, cranes and grease,
And odd bits of steam engines, with the numbers
Chalked on steam-pipe, or funnel, or wheel,
And it counted as a cop –
You told me it wasn’t wagging and so it wasn’t!
And do you remember the men pouring out
From the Works and Pressed Steel at lunch time,
A river of men on bikes in full flood
In a frantic rush for grub and a fag;
And do you remember seeing 70030,
‘William Wordsworth’, strain and slide
In snorting steam on ice cold winter days?
Or seeing sunlight’s shimmer, gleaming
On endless heat-hot railway lines,
Until they at last disappeared
In far off main line vanishing point;
Or waiting for the Cheltenham Flyer,
Studying the semaphore signal
In the sun haze squinting distance;
And you showed me all of this Ian Allan
ABC world of names and numbers,
This alphabet of railway alchemy:
You showed me the right way: the rail-way,
The Permanent Way –
So, you’ll always be sitting beside me
On that wooden fence near Standish Junction,
As Jubilee Class 45609,
‘Gilbert and Ellice Islands’ steams into sight:
Railway Time,
Keith and Stuart Time,
Brother Time.
Kevin Hibbs and Railway Recollections From My Life
I was born in 1958 in Bournemouth and from an early age can remember sitting with my parents and grandparents being read and later reading for myself, the wonderful stories written by Rev W Awdry. This magic was later shared with my own children, who in their childhood, like me, loved an adventure on a railway.
I have never been a locomotive buff, but have a huge love and appreciation for all of the engineering and architecture, which probably contributed to my career in civil and structural engineering.
My earliest recollections of riding on railways include family holidays to the Isle Of Wight. We travelled by train to Southampton or Lymington. Then the Red Funnel ferry would take us to the island, where I believe we disembarked at Ryde. The travelling across the island to Sandown, where we always stayed, was a delight. The small tank engines used to pull a few carriages loaded with holidaymakers and luggage across the island, where we were met at the station by lots of boys with porters trolleys, who for a the price of some pocket money, would take your cases to your destination. In our case this was the Heathlands Hotel, which was run by some old friends of my parents. Travel around the island was often via train, again very fond memories.
At home, my interest was fuelled by Ian Allen’s books coupled with visits to Bournemouth Central or Bournemouth West Station to watch the trains. I think Dad enjoyed it as much as I did as we witnessed the final days of mainline steam. We used to have a treat too, which was for Dad a cup of tea from the station buffet and for me, a box of Poppets from the sweet vending machine. When at the Central Station, our going home point was watching the Bournemouth Belle depart for Waterloo and from West Station trains on the Somerset and Dorset line.
Family holidays also took the form of having a railway rover ticket for a week, which saw us travel to places such as Southampton and Portsmouth (to see the ships), Dorchester and Wimborne(for the cattle markets), Weymouth (for a day on a different beach) and London to see the sights and visit an Aunt of my Father who lived in Wallington, Surrey.
In Bournemouth, an entrepreneurial gentleman called Mr Stone used to charter trains a couple of times a year for the Lord Mayor’s Show and Christmas shopping. These trains were always rammed and involved a rush to book, including taking our postal order to the gent’s house to pay for our tickets.
Train travel seemed to be much cheaper and affordable back then, as was attending music gigs and as youngsters we thought nothing of going to Southampton and London to see our favourite bands ie Pink Floyd, Yes, ELP, Alice Cooper and the like perform. The ride home was always tedious, long and inevitably on the mail train, which stopped literally everywhere. Train travel also took me to Southampton College, where I studied for the last five of my seven years working towards my qualifications.
As I mentioned above, my own children, all thanks to the wonderful world of Thomas The Tank Engine, loved a railway adventure and in that, nothing more than camping next to a railway, which we often did on the Severn Valley Railway, where I was a member for many years, at Hampton Loade. We used to have a weekend rover and the children would ride tirelessly on the trains hopping from one station to another as well as the thrill of riding along the whole line, frequently!
We also visited many other railways closer by including Bristol Docks, Avon Valley, East Somerset, West Somerset, Gloucestershire and Warwickshire and while visiting family and friend as in Bournemouth, the Swanage and Mid Hants Railways.
As my children grew up and now have their own families, their children in turn have also dearly loved the stories of Rev W Awdry and so, the whole cycle of railway enjoyment is starting once again for these young people.
Across the years, my love of visiting preserved railways and riding on trains in general, along with the appreciation of the engineering has never faded and having retired five years ago and moved to Hebden Bridge in West Yorkshire two years ago, I’m now embarking on another railway adventure as a volunteer on the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway. It’s a great line to be involved with and has been running since 1968. There are around 700 volunteers currently covering all duties. Mine so far have included being a Ticket Clerk and I am now training to be a Tour Guide and Station Foreman. The days I spend there are a joy and I often think I should be paying for the privilege! The overall atmosphere is great an although everyone knows what they are doing, there’s a lot of room for fun and my days there often feel like being in the middle of a sitcom, Oh Dr Beeching springs to mind!
So in closing, my mind rewinds with immeasurable gratitude to where this interest and love all started, with the beautiful and evocative stories of Rev W Awdry and the dear family who read them to me.
The Railway Series and Me
It is 1959. The newly opened public library stands before me. I enter through the glazed double doors to the right. The library is one large oblong room with several floor to ceiling sets of windows bringing light onto the bookshelves assembled on three of the four walls. The librarian and her assistants are situated in a wooden island-cum-counter to the front of the library. For the next seven years the library will be a second home.
Before continuing the library visit to Rev Awdry’s Railway Series, I have, first, to pay homage to Tootles the Taxi. My pre-school years saw me learn to read before I entered full-time education. Of the books which helped me to make that modest achievement the aforementioned Tootles stands out. It was a Ladybird book featuring a range of urban vehicles each gloriously illustrated going about their duties on one page faced with simple verse describing their activities on the other. How I loved that book.
Back in the library I walk to the back wall where the children’s books are located. Over the following years I read all sorts but have a particular affinity with the antics of Gordon, James Henry and Awdry’s other creations. The first two have a further significance as they are my Dad’s two forenames. Although the books are smaller in size, the layout is not dissimilar to Tootles the Taxi. Wonderfully descriptive illustrations are faced with matching text. I am transported to the Island of Sodor albeit somewhat irritated by the juvenile behaviour of the future star that is Thomas the Tank engine.*
At the time I was able to relate the Railway Series to my own life. Not far away was a level crossing where I occasionally caught sight of an engine crossing the road en route to Bristol or Bath. It is difficult to imagine the road coping with a level crossing today. Additionally, we used to spend summer holidays visiting, by train, my grandmother on the Isle of Wight. The island is smaller than Sodor but back then had its own railway network which we travelled on. It brought the Railway Series to life.
In the 1980s, Thomas the Tank Engine and friends became a very popular animation series on children’s television narrated by, among others, Ringo Starr and Michael Angelis. My children loved watching the series and I enjoyed sitting with them while they did. We invested in the books published, ironically, by Ladybird in conjunction with the television series and revisited the stories of my own childhood. For reasons which will become apparent Trevor the Traction Engine was a favourite. We laughed and laughed when Trevor was rescued from the scrap heap with the Vicar uttering the immortal lines, “I got him cheap Jem, cheap”.
The funny thing is that I thought Trevor the Traction Engine was a new creation for the purposes of the burgeoning television series. It was only years later I discovered Trevor had first appeared in book 9, “Edward the Blue Engine”. Somehow that had passed me by or, perhaps, I never borrowed book 9 from the library. Trevor’s debut occurred in 1954, the year I was born.
Trevor Simpson
*Interestingly, Brian Sibley in his biography thinks that the reason for Thomas’ popularity is that he is the most child-like in his manner and personality and therefore the one that children most readily relate to.
But I’m getting beyond myself here. I need to go back to the time when the Rev first read a story to Christopher. Here is some railway childhood context from my brother-in-law.
Trainspotting in the 1940s
As boys, we spent hours in the summer holidays sitting between Green Bridge and Ermin Street Bridge jotting down names and numbers as Kings, Castles and Halls steamed past us. Some of the early Castles had huge name plates to hold all the lettering: ‘The Somerset Light Infantry (Prince Albert’s)’ is one that sticks in my mind.
Sometimes, we’d go to Swindon where for a penny we could spend all day on the platforms and on one memorable day a kindly driver invited two of us on to the footplate to see the firebox and watch the oil gauges while the boiler simmered ahead of us. The loco was ‘King William 1V’; unforgettable.
A special treat was to get a return ticket to Old Town Station – cost fourpence on a route known as ‘The Loop’ which went past the GWR Works where all newly repaired and re-painted locos stood. The train was usually of two coaches hauled by a class 27 pannier tank engine and on one occasion at Old Town, a driver took two of us onto the footplate while he moved the loco from the coaches and took it round to hook on at the other end for the run back to Swindon Junction. Back in the coach with notebooks ready, there would be frantic scribbling as we tried to jot down the names and numbers of everything outside the Works.
The hobby really took off in 1943 when Ian Allan’s first ABC of GWR names and numbers came out. It cost one shilling and sixpence and had to be ordered by post which had us all begging our mums for postal orders.
At home with our haul of names and numbers, out came the treasured ABC so that all could be neatly underlined, with F.P. added to ‘King William 1V’.