Do you fancy a pint?” “Wouldn’t mind. Where are we going?” “Follow me. I’ll show you.” This was usually the conversation between a driver and a fireman whenever the chance of a pint arose, frequently after being relieved and waiting to relieve another crew.
I Was booked with a notorious ‘ale-cart’. He didn’t taste the first four. The first was gone before you had the chance to pick yours up! His name was George, the surname I’ll keep quite about, lest any 16A man will know who I am writing about! We had a job at Nottingham where we would relieve Westhouses men at Wilford Road with a train for Peterborough, about 7:30pm. We picked up a ‘fitted head’ in Nottingham Yard East. It was Boots or Players bonded cargo in sealed vans, usually four or five, and it gave us a bit more brake power. We were booked to relieve them at 6:15pm but it was usually a bit late. On arriving at the cabin at Wilford Road, it was customary to ring the control to see how it was running. “Not passed Trowel yet,“was the usual reply.
“Right,” says George, “I’m off to the Castle,” a pub not five minutes’ walk away. I sat in the cabin with the guard for 45 minutes. “He’s just past Trowel,” was the message. I phoned theline because we couldn’t see it front the cabin. In no time at all the ‘bobby `rang and said he was approaching the peg. “That was quick!” Control was way out, telling us that he was just past Trowel. I walked out to the engine, an ‘8F’ 2-8-0, With the Guard. On climbing aboard, the driver said,“where’s your mate?” I said he had been “taken short,” and had gone to the toilet.
