NEWTON HEATH ENGINEMAN
I entered the footplate scene some time during 1948. This was the year when Britain’s railway system became nationalised, and when the LMS, LNER, GWR and SR came under the single banner of British Railways. There followed a concerted recruiting drive by BR, inviting keen youngsters (as I was then) to join the ranks; although I have to admit that, unlike a majority of 17-year-olds, I held no burning ambition to become an engine driver. In fact, I was simply a lad looking to earn a reasonable wage, and a jump from £2 per week as an apprentice learning to make kitchen equipment, to around £5 as a railway engine cleaner, was a chance too great to miss.
Along with one or two other hopeful lads, I presented myself for interview at Newton Heath Motive Power Depot (shed code 26A), Manchester. There followed a brief medical examination, with particular emphasis on eyesight, especially colour perception. In next to no time, I was fitted out with a couple of sets of cotton overalls (bib-and-brace and lightweight smock jacket), black heavy serge jacket and the ubiquitous, shiny-topped footplate cap, bearing the proud badge of London Midland Region (in red enamel). I was thus ready for action!
‘Newton Heath Loco’, as it was styled as it was known locally, was quite a large shed -in fact, some reports accredited it as being the largest locomotive shed in Britain under one roof. Sadly, however, I cannot now recall how many under-cover pit roads there were (at a guess, around 20).
Located just over two miles north-east of Manchester Victoria, the entire complex sat within a kind of ‘V’ formed by the main lines to Rochdale (west flank) and Oldham (east flank). The south yard contained the coaling and disposal pits, which were seldom idle. Like all locomotive sheds, the atmosphere was heavy with smoke and coal dust. The winter fogs, which seemed so prevalent during post-war years in Britain, added to the general grime and gloom. Nevertheless, Manchester’s predictable rainy climate frequently washed away
