London Waterloo Station
concourse, Mid-July, Summer 1961, it's 10.30 am, we meet under the big clock.
''Come on you lot! Buck up, or We'll miss the train!'' I shouted over to my
older cousins, who were all disappearing off to buy comics and sweets from the
W.H. Smith's bookstall for our journey.
We had all waited hot, and impatient, in a long, heaving line of holidaymakers
under a big green letter 'A'.
Luggage was piled everywhere and porters hurried to and fro, like uniformed
ants, pushing wooden barrows laden high with trunks and suitcases.
This green letter 'A' which hung high above the station concourse, was the area
for passengers to wait for the now famous 'A.C.E'.
''Quote'' from the British Railways Southern Region timetable.
''The Atlantic Coast
Express''. Weekdays from Waterloo at 11 am.
Through coaches to the West of England, Exeter, Plymouth,
the seaside resorts of North and East
Devon, and North
Cornwall. Restaurant Car to Exeter.
Reservations advisable.
The giant old wooden-slatted destination board in front of the platforms at Waterloo
clattered into life, revealing all the many far-flung stations served by the
'A.C.E'. Seaton, Sidmouth, Ilfracombe, Torrington, Bude, Egloskerry, (where was
that?) then lastly, Padstow.
Amongst all the place names we spotted 'Littleham', which was going to be OUR
destination for another glorious six week summer holiday at my Aunt's caravan at Sandy Bay,
near Exmouth, Devon.
Suddenly, we heard a very well spoken lady making the announcement over the
Tannoy, ''platform 10 for the 11
o'clock Atlantic Coast
Express.''
That's us!'' we cried! We're off!
With Mum and Dad in tow, (Dad was just waving us off today) we headed for the platform
and there we saw a long line of polished dark green carriages, their roof boards proudly proclaiming 'The Atlantic Coast Express,
Waterloo-Padstow.' A small, very old, 'M7 class' tank loco had earlier brought the 12 empty
coaches into the platform, but now this little engine sat quietly with its
buffers pressed hard up against the mighty Napier hydraulic buffer-stops.
(Incidentally, these buffer-stops remain in-situ to this day at Waterloo)
We carefully looked for the correct carriage and took our seats in the
'through' coach to Exmouth. (crucial if you did not want to end up at the wrong
destination on this multi-portioned train!) Dad had sent all the luggage on in
advance, (you could easily do that then) and he came into the 1st class compartment
he had reserved just for us clutching 5 dining car tickets for the first
sitting at luncheon. These tickets were highly prized as the restaurant car was
always very busy. This was going to be all very exciting!
I was only seven, but I KNEW there was going to be a big, green Merchant Navy class
loco at the head of our train. (the green colour being somewhat difficult to
see, as today it was a rather grimy engine.) Her name was Cunard White Star
Line. This class of 30 express engines, designed by Mr O.V.Bulleid and built in
the 1940's by the Southern Railway, were all named after famous shipping lines
in recognition of their roles in World War 2.
Dad took me up to the engine and the friendly driver let me hop up into the
frightfully hot cab for a minute. The driver's white enamel billycan of hot tea
stood on a shelf at the back of the boiler, above the almost white hot coals
now burning in the firebox. The fireman relaxed for a moment in-between
shovelling another scoop of coal to show me all the different guages and how,
when he pressed a pedal on the floor of the cab with his foot, the firebox
doors would open to reveal the grate.
The engine was alive, ready to go, with excess steam starting to blow off from
the safety valves, deafening everyone on the platform's end!
Here too, was a collection of a few little boys, smartly dressed in school
blazers and caps who were jotting down the names and numbers of all the
engines.
Later on, during our journey, I would get lots of coal smuts in my eyes from
leaning too far out of the window...Mum was always very cross! My white hanky
would be black!
My three cousins came running up the platform at the very last moment, clutching
little white paper bags of penny chews, cough drops, and chocolate raisins! Mum
shouted out of the window at them to hurry as the whistle blew and the last few
open doors were being slammed shut.
''Quick!, hurry up, get on!'' she exclaimed. Everyone piled on, laughing,
waving, and shouting ''Hello and Goodbye!'' The guard looked at his watch,
waved his green flag, then blew his whistle one last time. Dad waved
frantically back at us, ''Have fun! See you in a few weeks! he shouted back,
I'll telegram you!'' (for he was to join us later in the holidays)
A short toot from Cunard White Star, we were finally going! A violent jerk, a
few clunks, then slowly we moved off.
Up front, our huge Merchant Navy erupted into a characteristic, slipping,
hissing, volcano of sound and steam, but, she soon found her feet as the
experienced driver eased her, and her heavy load over the greasy rails and many
crossovers at Waterloo.
The little black tank engine which had earlier brought the empty train into the
platform now gave a shove from behind to help us get on our way. She would
carry on to the yard at Clapham then bring back more green carriages ready to
be filled by another hoard of eager holidaymakers, all off to the seaside.
But where to this time? Bournemouth,
Swanage? or even perhaps a famous ocean-liner express for Southampton
Docks. Who knows!
Steam and smoke poured past the carriage windows as we slowly picked up speed
and we looked at each other and chanted ''Hurrah!, the Hols are here!
No more school, no more games, no more horrid Latin homework! Just six weeks of
summer fun, and for ME, more trains to watch at the little country station in Devon...what
bliss!
We all got comfy and settled down, Mum soon unpacked flasks of coffee and we
tucked into sandwiches of corned beef and tomato, tongue with pickle on thick
crusty bread, bought warm, early that morning from our local baker. I much
preferred Corona
cherry pop to coffee!
I had my 'bible' of the Ian Allan ABC book of Southern engines to read, plus my
latest Hotspur comic. My cousins became engrossed in the Dandy or the Beano,
paying little attention to the several hardback 'Jennings' or
'Famous Five's which Mum had thoughtfully packed.
The compartment door from the corridor slid open and the friendly Guard,
looking rather grand in his smart uniform, popped in to ensure that we were in
the right coach. Touching his cap, he then ceremoniously clipped all our
tickets with his metal punch. ''Be no changes for you people, he said, in his
heavy
West Country accent as he clipped away, Just stay on 'ere, and you be Little'am
see at 2.30!''
Wizard! we all thought, as we knew that we could be cooling off in the sea
before tea-time!
The train, by now, was travelling really quite fast, the carriages swaying and
rocking as we sped along. However, we soon got bored of trying to guess our
speed and mileage by timing the number of 'clickety-clacks' over the rail
joints! At Woking,
glinting in the sun, on the left of the line-side, we glimpsed the strange
sight of the green and gold domes of England's
oldest ever Mosque. Basingstoke soon flashed by, where after which, the four mainlines diverged at Worting. Here, an impressive 'fly-over junction' sent
fast trains South for Southampton and
Weymouth; to
the West for Salisbury and
Exeter.
Our speed now was well up into the 80's as we stormed through Andover
station on the West of England
mainline.
Salisbury was
our first stop. Waiting here, simmering in the hot sun, was another Merchant
Navy, East Asiatic Company, looking very smart and clean this time. Piled full
of coal, she was being watered, ready to take over the next leg of the 'A.C.E'
to Exeter.
Cascades of water splashed and poured down all over her shiny green tender from
the long black rubber hose of the water tower as the fireman completed the
topping up.
We said goodbye to Cunard White Star Line as she was quickly uncoupled from the
leading carriage. The engine then moved off, down to the big loco depot just
past the station to be serviced for a run back to London. At
the rear of our train the Seaton coach was also being taken off, to be attached
to a slower, stopping train from Salisbury to Exeter
that would depart just after us.
We watched as East Asiatic, with a fresh, eager crew in-charge of her
footplate, slowly backed onto the 'A.C.E'. A loud, metallic clunk as the
buffers met and compressed. She was soon all coupled up and ready to go.
Another cheerful toot, We're off already!
The massive engine offered us an explosion of steam and violent slipping as it
struggled to get underway from the soaking wet rails at Salisbury.
The young driver this time, did not have the patience of the Waterloo
engineman, and we slipped again and again. At last, East Asiatic found her grip
and she started to pick up speed, very slowly at first, as the 12 heavy coaches
creaked and rattled over the tracks, but soon we were making good headway out
into the Wiltshire countryside, the whistle screaming as we tore through
Wilton, famous here for weaving quality carpets, and where once, the engines
were changed for the now long-gone Devon Belle Pullman train, which back then
had its own observation car!
We were then called by the steward to take lunch in the restaurant car. The
menu today, was a choice of fruit juices, tomato soup, followed by grilled
plaice, or steak and kidney pie, both came with boiled new potatoes and
cabbage. The pudding was apple pie and custard! All served on bone china with
starched white table cloth's and full silver service. I can still smell the
cabbage now as it wafted down the carriage! The lunch cost ten shillings and
sixpence.
This was a big treat for us!
It was hot and muggy in the carriage as that sticky, sultry afternoon
progressed and we all got quite dirty and a bit restless. We took it in turns
to lean out of the window and watch the countryside speed by, waving madly at
any farm workers. We thought it such fun, as other children wildly waved back
whilst they waited at the level crossing gates for us to pass.
The train rattled through the many country stations on our route. Such as,
Templecombe, where we over crossed the favourite railway line of Sir John
Betjeman, the delightful Somerset and Dorset, which wound its picturesque way
down from Bath, over the Mendip Hills, to the coast at Bournemouth. Sherborne,
with it's rather posh boy's school, and old, mysterious ruined abbey.
Axminster, also famous for carpets, a weekly cattle market, and here one could
change trains to join the lovely branch line down to the ancient harbour town
of Lyme Regis.
The scenery grew greener and greener, becoming prettier and prettier by the
mile. Cows, sheep, and horses, all very alarmed by this racing, hissing
monster, ran away in all directions across the open fields as the 'A.C.E'
thundered by, the driver hanging frequently on the loco's whistle.
Suddenly, my Mum said ''Look! there's the sea!'' And sure enough, far off in
the distance, across the green rolling Devon
valley, we glimpsed a line of forget-me-not blue. We're almost there now, and we were sure we could smell the sea!
The last part of our main-line run was up the infamous long and steep Honiton
Bank incline. Having raced through Seaton Junction station on the down fast
'through' line we overtook a 'stopper' which was a three coach train hauled by
another Merchant Navy, French Line. Quite a light load for such a big loco. We
attacked the start of the bank well, but by the entrance to Honiton tunnel
which is at the summit of the climb, we were now down to a sedate 25 mph. Lots
of smoke would fill the corridors and compartments if one was foolish enough to
leave the windows open whilst going through the tunnel!
As we were a long, heavily loaded train, so the engine made a very steady,
chuff-chuff-chuff, chuff-chuff-chuff beat as she worked hard to make the
ascent. I learned later in life that the Merchant Navy loco's were of a 3-cylinder
design, hence the familiar, friendly sounding beat!
At Sidmouth Junction station, our next stop, three coaches, including ours, were
detached from the main 'A.C.E' and were joined to the local train headed by a
hefty looking BR 'standard 4MT' class tank loco waiting in the bay platform
which served the Sidmouth and Exmouth branch lines. After much clanking and
clunking whilst being attached to the local we were soon puffing our way down
the prettiest of country lines towards the coast. The clanking and clunking
were repeated once more when we arrived at Tipton St John station, where the
train was divided into two portions. The front part of the train went off to the
left for Sidmouth, but for us, we went off to the right, on the Exmouth line.
Our loco for this last short journey was a smaller, LMS designed, 'Ivatt 2MT'
class tank engine.
My dear Aunt met us at the tiny country village of
Littleham,
one stop after the charming seaside resort of Budleigh Salterton. We all waved
frantically to her as we steamed into the station. Doors were flung open and we
tore down the platform to receive lots of hugs and ghastly red lip-sticky
kisses!
My Mum then suddenly dashed back on-board to retrieve her straw hat which she
had left in the hat-rack, all this drama slightly holding up the train's departure!
Aunt stood there beaming at us all, and she beckoned us outside to the station
forecourt where stood her old black pony and trap. (she finally got a car the
next year!) ''Come on Darling's, Tea's ready!'' she boomed, and we all piled
in, tired and dirty, but very excited!
So, with everyone squashed on the pony-cart, we then trotted down the narrow,
high-hedged Devon
lanes to the rural caravan site out on the rugged red cliffs of the headland at
Sandy Bay. Crab sandwiches, warm scones and homemade strawberry jam piled high with
clotted cream would be waiting!
We soon got to the site, where me, and my cousins ran over the fields to the
water standpipes to help fill the big plastic jerry-cans so Mum and Aunt could
start to boil the big kettle on the calor-gas cooker in the caravan for pots of
tea. (it would be many years before running water and electricity were
installed in the caravans!)
After a huge feast, we all then laid outside on old brown, and rather itchy
ex-army rugs, basking in the late afternoon sun. The smell of the freshly mown
grass filling our nostrils as we looked out over the cliffs to the blue sea
beyond. Two bumble bee's buzzed lazily around us looking for any intact daisies
or buttercups to land on.
Way out in the Bay, rust-red sails fluttered from some little wooden fishing
boats, whose fishermen were throwing their lines and nets, trying for some
mackerel or plaice. The humidity in the air was increasing, for towering-up
over in the far South-West, were huge, and rather ominous, blue-black thunder
clouds. A sure sign that later that evening we could expect a spectacular
summer storm, hopefully, after which, would leave the country air fresh and
cooler.
The hustle and bustle of Waterloo
seemed an age away as we gazed up at the brown hawk, hanging high up in the sky
on a warm thermal, spying for any poor unfortunate field-mouse! A last thought for some hot and sticky passengers who today, were still onboard
the 'A.C.E' as they slowly lumbered along on the last part of their long journey.
Maybe off to stylish Ilfracombe? deepest Dartmoor, or
the wild, North Cornish coast! For they still had an hour or so, to go!
So, then began many balmy, hot, happy days of bathing, picnics, and treasure
hunts.
For me too, there would be frequent visits to the little local station to watch
the steam trains go by, and marvel at the level crossing gates, opened, and
closed by the friendly signalman. A few times during that long summer I went to
the busy Exeter
Central station and saw many large, strange looking, flat-sided engines. They
were called Battle of Britain, or
West Country class. Known as 'air-smoothed pacific's' or, to train-spotters, as
'spam-cans'! All had such wonderful names, 66 Squadron, Fighter Command, and
Watersmeet.
Fussing all over the station too, were rugged black, 'N' class engines, steam
blowing off, whistles galore, the noise was deafening! two, sometimes three, types of
engine assisting a train up, or down, the short, but very steep bank from the
other station at Exeter; St David's. Trains were coming, and going all the
time, and going to everywhere you could imagine! I used to sit there for hours
entranced by this hive of railway activity. Although I was only seven years old I knew the 'N' class by its little smoke
deflectors. Funny how you remember things like that!
Our family did this same trip on the 'Atlantic Coast Express' every summer
holidays from the early 1950's. But one year, Dad said the steam trains were
now gone. 'Oh' we all said...
Then, one summer he announced there were NO trains at all anymore to our little
station in Devon.
'Oh' we all said again...
Sadly that year we took to the car. A long, tedious journey, the clogged roads,
way-side cafes which never seemed to be open, the oh-so very slow A30. Ghastly
petrol fumes, guaranteed to make us all car sick, and we were always fighting
in the back!
Please can we have our train back? Sadly the famous Merchant Navy's and the
'A.C.E' are all now only in all our memories.
opyright © 1999-2021 Edward Gregory . - All photographs/images/graphics/maps/logos copyright to their relevant owners.
ACE 4 - INDEX