Times Gone
The weekend saw me taking a drive over the Pennines and the North Yorkshire moors. I stopped at Goathland village better known as Aidensfield in YTV’s Heartbeat and of course had a pint or two in the pub that by the way is quite different than in the series. At least the decor is.
I touched Levisham that has a beautiful Forrest drive and some great walks and managed to take in the old prisoner of war camp at Eden Camp Malton Located off the A64 York to Scarborough road at the junction of the A169 to Pickering. A modern history theme museum set in a 1942 prisoner of war camp, and is I assure you a great day out for the family. There is a theatre show for the kids, some very realistic battle and air raid scenes. And at the end of it all you can enjoy some Churchill pie in the NAFFI
I also stopped at Grosmont, a genuine 1950s railway junction where you can visit the station café, meander around the engine sheds and view the locomotives. I saw a Class A4 Pacific and a BR Standard 4MT; they looked splendid in their shiny new livery of maroon and gold and green and gold.
What I didn’t see was my favourite Steam loco the AD60 Beyer Garratt which for many years was built right here in Gorton Manchester by Beyer Peacock who shipped most of these mighty beasts to far off countries. In fact I had to go to Africa to see my first Garratt. That is not what I went there for but its strange that I lived right on top of the place they were made and several members of my family worked for years in Beyer Peacocks manufacturing these engines. Yet it took a trip half way across the world before I set eyes on one.
Its nice to see them so well cared for, but I remember them as dirty, oily, smelly huge black beasts that took you away to the coast for the annual holiday, or a day away climbing or fishing in Marple or Hayfield. There was a distinctive smell about them that was unique to these powerful engines.
As young lads my pals and I would linger on the Monkey Bridge waiting for a steam train to pass under it. We would be enveloped in dirty grey steam and thick black smoke from the boiler funnel. We would be deafened from the whistle blast that signalled its approach to Belle Vue station.
When I was a very young boy my Father worked for a time as a fireman on steam trains for British rail. Most mornings when my Mother walked me to school when we reached the bridge near Gorton lane, just as in all the best Enid Blyton books she would lift me up to wave at my dad through the steam and smoke as he passed under the bridge, blowing the whistle and waving like mad from the footplate.
Life was slower then, more relaxed, safer.
I touched Levisham that has a beautiful Forrest drive and some great walks and managed to take in the old prisoner of war camp at Eden Camp Malton Located off the A64 York to Scarborough road at the junction of the A169 to Pickering. A modern history theme museum set in a 1942 prisoner of war camp, and is I assure you a great day out for the family. There is a theatre show for the kids, some very realistic battle and air raid scenes. And at the end of it all you can enjoy some Churchill pie in the NAFFI
I also stopped at Grosmont, a genuine 1950s railway junction where you can visit the station café, meander around the engine sheds and view the locomotives. I saw a Class A4 Pacific and a BR Standard 4MT; they looked splendid in their shiny new livery of maroon and gold and green and gold.
What I didn’t see was my favourite Steam loco the AD60 Beyer Garratt which for many years was built right here in Gorton Manchester by Beyer Peacock who shipped most of these mighty beasts to far off countries. In fact I had to go to Africa to see my first Garratt. That is not what I went there for but its strange that I lived right on top of the place they were made and several members of my family worked for years in Beyer Peacocks manufacturing these engines. Yet it took a trip half way across the world before I set eyes on one.
Its nice to see them so well cared for, but I remember them as dirty, oily, smelly huge black beasts that took you away to the coast for the annual holiday, or a day away climbing or fishing in Marple or Hayfield. There was a distinctive smell about them that was unique to these powerful engines.
As young lads my pals and I would linger on the Monkey Bridge waiting for a steam train to pass under it. We would be enveloped in dirty grey steam and thick black smoke from the boiler funnel. We would be deafened from the whistle blast that signalled its approach to Belle Vue station.
When I was a very young boy my Father worked for a time as a fireman on steam trains for British rail. Most mornings when my Mother walked me to school when we reached the bridge near Gorton lane, just as in all the best Enid Blyton books she would lift me up to wave at my dad through the steam and smoke as he passed under the bridge, blowing the whistle and waving like mad from the footplate.
Life was slower then, more relaxed, safer.
Labels: heartbeat, Pennines, Pickering, Steam engine, Yorkshire
posted by Dave G at 4:37 pm
3 Comments:
Lovely post Dave - I wish I'd taken more notice of those steam trains. My excuse is that I was a girl.
On a similar note I found a bottle of whisky in Avignon in a special box that celebrated the sophistication of Blackpool in the 40s.
My mum loved it.
Kaz
Blackpool is the epitemy of sophistication young lady and always has been. Was it a maly whisky? course it was.
I'm getting old, of course I meant malt. hic
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