End of steam question - perception

When the Hampshire Diesel Units were introduced in 1957 a special diesel link was created at Eastleigh, then Salisbury and Fratton. They quickly became the "old mans link" with no overnight shifts or stupid o'clock starts or finishes in the dead hours of the night. It did a wonders for the promotion of younger footplatemen, but there was still the circuit to London area depots to get the drivers ticket at a suburban depot before returning to a country depot a few years later.

Cheers, Neil

 

I knew it was going on and familiar locos were vanishing month by month in the early 1960s. It would have been hard to miss.

It really struck home for me however, at the end of 1964. 60001 Sir Ronald Matthews, which was our last 'local' A4, suddenly turned up at the breaker's yard of Hughes Bolckows at North Blyth just a few miles along the road. Its shedmates at Gateshead had already been withdrawn or transferred to Scotland to see out their days. It even made the Saturday edition of the Newcastle Evening Chronicle, with an article accompanied by a photo of the streak at the scrapyard. A few of us were gathered at a local cinema that December to watch (iirc) a James Bond film. Goldfinger was still new, so it was probably that one. One of my mates brought in the copy of the paper to show us the article. Next day we were all on the bus to Blyth to say our farewells.

What is often forgotten these days though, is how, as the 1950s progressed and the 1960s got going, the mood of the nation wasn't buried in nostalgia, quite the opposite. The recent past was something to forget, if anything. Anything new or modern was being jumped on with vigour. My local corner shop was going 'self-service', a Launderette had opened just along from it, opposite our local cinema. Ozzie's Ice Cream shop next door to the cinema had introduced booths in which to partake of an ice cream soda. I felt very modern and American sitting as a 7 year old with my bowl of ice cream, while listening to Paul Anka at 3d a go on the brand new Juke Box, the first we'd ever seen. That summer (probably 1958, maybe 59) our head-master came into our class to tell the boys that there were changes being carried out on the local branch railway that were very important to us, because there were new 'Silent diesels' being introduced (actually DMUs - not silent at all) to replace the familiar steam haulage. The new 'silent' trains were faster and were hard to hear as they approached, so we needed to be extra careful near railway lines, especially at a local foot crossing. We hadn't to stand close to the track, because the 'suction would drag anyone into the wheels'. We soaked all this up like sponges and we couldn't wait to experience these new silent machines. We flocked to the railway, even though none of us had the faintest interest in trains beyond being aware that they went back and forth each day, carrying coal from the pit and people from the station. We were very wary though, and no-one dared stand on the wrong side of the post and rail fence, or the trackward side off the foot stile, in case we were sucked in. Nobody wanted to be the first to find out how close was 'too close'.

That summer holiday fortnight, I was excited to be told by my dad that we were all going for an excursion on the train for a day at Redcar Races. That was our holiday treat. I remember the excitement as we stood on the platform at Ashington waiting for the train. I also remember the absolute dejection when amid much wheezing and puffing our train pulled in from under the 'Station Bridge' that carried the high street and hid from view the railway to the other side of it. It was not the lightning-fast Silent Diesel I was expecting and hoping for. It was a grubby old tank engine, the same as usual. Probably a G5, maybe a V3. In those days I knew no difference.