What Time is It...? Friday 12th July 1991

WHERE AM I...who am I...what time is it?

These were my first thoughts upon being awakened on a clear morning in July 1991: Friday the 12th of July to be exact. "Richard, phone call" came a voice I recognised as belonging to my mother. "What's the time?" I asked. "Twenty past five" came the reply.

Heavens to Betsy, I thought as I struggled out of bed, I've only been asleep for 4 hours. Myself, Tim Reiner, Gibbo & Rich Pinker had attended the Weekly Wind Up at the Evening Star in Brighton the night before - at least I got home, unlike Mr.P!

I pulled some clothes on - no fashion reports in these pages - and staggered to the phone.

"Poodle... I'm very nearly out of money... so I will say this only once: 0731 Ashford to Hastings, 0913 Hastings to Ashford, 1012 Ashford to Hastings and so on and so forth all day."

By the time my brain had bestirred itself to decipher the first word, I had missed all this, so I had to ask for an action replay of the gen. It slowly dawned on me that something dreadful was afoot, but what? 33057 came the reply. "Cheers, Duffield." And then back to bed.

I woke up with a start about 20 minutes later. Suddenly I realised that I had not just had a pleasant dream, but that there was a move on!

I dived into the shower - a rare cure for that morning-after stupor - and emerged as much of a new man as I'm ever going to be. I packed my bag, for I was pre-booked on a move to Carlisle this afternoon for Bed & Breakfast at "The Woolpack" with Booger before the Ayr Restorer with the 26's around scenic Ayrshire on the Saturday. 

I then perused the timetable, and was less than amused to discover that I could have made the first Ashford if I hadn't gone back for the Zeds. Still, it was yet early, so moves were still on.

I strolled to the station under a clear blue sky and took the 0640 off Sittingbourne to Ramsgate, changing at Faversham for the 0709 to Dover. We departed Faversham at 0705 (commuters, eat your hearts out!) and I had 45 minutes for a leisurely stroll through a Canterbury that was slowly being recalled to life from the East to the West stations. 

Really, this was the only time of day to contemplate crossing Canterbury, as all the foreigners are still a-bed and not clogging up the Olde Worlde streets and shopping malls.

I arrived at Canterbury West with 20 minutes in hand, so a pot of slops (takeaway cup of tea) plus a Ham, Cheddar cheese & Coleslaw sandwich for an alternative breakfast, before then boarding the 0803 8-CEP to Ashford. At Ashford, 207002 was raked in for the trip to Ore.

On arrival at Ore, I had a mighty fester of 4 minutes. I got my camera out, for a rather impressive phot could be had of a Crompton emerging from the tunnel. I prepared myself. My heart was in my throat and I could hear my "Thumper" (the train, not the organ) as it went through the tunnel. Please, please let the next thing I hear be a Crompton.

Then... there it was. Mind-blowing multi-sonous plangency of thrash could be heard as the 33 made it's approach through the tunnel. The Crompton appeared on the front of a 4-CEP. 

I took a phot and as I dashed down the steps to the platform my eye took in a nameplate. 33057 my hat! It was 33025. What a Monster!

After double-checking that it really was the Beast itself, I was on board and out of the window, much appreciating the roar of the engine. 

The Baglet guard was much amazed that I had found out about the working, but she was not surprised when I told her that there would be more like me appearing at Ashford. She knew, after all, that it was HELL!

The scenery on this line is varied and interesting. At first hilly, with long climbs and descents, you pass through single coach length stations without a building in sight. 

Then you arrive at Rye, an impressive little town and of ancient stock. The last time this mainland of England was invaded (this sceptered Isle, this England and all that) it was at Rye in 1377: the Frogs raised it to the ground. Then the countryside changes dramatically as you enter the Romney marshes (hence the somewhat dreary-sounding name for local services of "Marsh-Link"). Flat, damp and full of Sheep, this vista changes little right up to Ashford itself.

As we rolled into Ashford, I could discern 3 Cranks, including my Gen caller of earlier today - and of course they were finished when they realised it was 33025.

The engine ran round and we were off to Hastings on the 1012. 

33025 after arrival at Hastings off the 1012.

33025 at Appledore (my original photos were never returned, these images taken from the article in the BRC&W Group newsletter)

The 33 did 3 more round trips and finished off with a one way trip to Hastings on the 1856 Ashford to Eastbourne service. By this time however, I was slicing my way through the Grim North behind an 87, on route to Carlisle. My thoughts, however, were on the Marsh-Link & 33025. This was just one of those "out of the ordinary" days that will long stick in the mind and be recalled over the years.

I shall leave you with the unexpurgated words of the Station Supervisor at Ashford as we boarded the 1012. "Hold on to your Seats Lads" he said "this Driver goes like Shit off a Shovel!"

Moves:

1564     Sittingbourne - Faversham 0523 London Victoria - Ramsgate 7m 18ch

8 CEP   Faversham - Canterbury East 0709 Faversham - Dover W.Docks.

8 CEP   Canterbury West - Ashford xxxx Ramsgate - Charing Cross

207002 Ashford - Ore 0832 Ashford - Hastings 25m 33ch

33025   Ore - Ashford 0914 Hastings - Ashford 25m 33ch (hauling 4 CEP 1528)

33025   Ashford - Hastings 1012 Ashford - Hastings 26m 25ch (hauling 1528)

33025   Hastings - Ashford 1115 Hastings - Ashford 26m 25ch (hauling 1528)

33025   Ashford - Hastings 1312 Ashford - Hastings 26m 25ch (hauling 1528)

33025   Hastings - Ashford 1415 Hastings - Ashford 26m 25ch (hauling 1528)

8 CEP   Ashford - London Bridge xxxx Ramsgate - Charing Cross

87031   London Euston - Crewe 1650 L.Euston - Liverpool Lime Street 158m 00ch

87030   Crewe - Carlisle 1722 Birmingham Int - Edinburgh 141m 08ch

An evening in Carlisle with Booger, I'm sure we wouldn't have strayed far from the Woolpack (a Jennings pub at the time) where we were staying.

26036 & 26028 were of course Hellfire around Ayrshire the following day, all the more enjoyable as we didn't have to start from Euston at 0610, unlike many of the Tours participants (and organisers!)

John Farrow (head Honcho of Hertfordshire Railtours) chats to the traincrew on the 26's before departure from Carlisle. Sadly John died in the 1st Covid Lockdown 2020, he never got out of hospital after an operation when Covid first hit these shores. He sure knew how to throw a Christmas party, I was lucky enough to be invited to a couple! RIP Mr Farrow. Photo courtesy of Jonathon Bestwick.

Cheers Poodle.