Last days of the King, and a story.

Monday at Broadway

A day of rain and sunshine, so with a bit of looking over the shoulder some painting - maybe the last for a while - should be possible.

We pulled the bare T&G boards, destined to become the sides of the steps, out of their home in the container, and gave them a first coat of primer.

These are the last 10 - so we were told. All the others are now in undercoat, and stored on the centre span.

Alex, our excellent signwriter, has done a bit of research and come up with a GWR single leaflet holder. Those at Broadway are currently made of plastic, so one of these could act as a very suitable replacement.

The idea of these singles was adopted with great enthusiasm by Dave of the Broadway gang, and within the day he had made these two near replicas - the front is not quite the same, due to issues with the wood pieces he had. But they certainly look the part.

They have now gone for varnishing, before going to Alex for lettering in gold.

 Elsewhere at Broadway John spent Friday painting more of the steelwork on the P2 side.




Neal and yours truly had a good time measuring the HIA treads that we have. We have more than we need, but not all are suitable, so it was a day of sorting out.

The wood is a tropical hardwood, and very heavy, and in excellent condition still.

Tony did a great job with painting the fence posts by the B&B entrance. The length of spearhead fencing, made specially to suit, lies waiting to be fitted. We just love the relief cast into these posts, and the opportunities that gives for painting in two shades of GWR stone.




Quite a few treads have now been laid in to see how they fit, and how many suitable ones we have.

A few more remained to be fitted on Friday morning, and here Neal has grabbed a big one and is just placing it near the top.

Note that none of them are bolted down yet. They also still need the risers fitting, so don't be tempted to use the steps just yet.

Here's the gap of three remaining near the top on Friday.

Seen from the top: the treads already laid in. The next one is waiting to go, but visitors have arrived and have many questions. It's a non-running day, bit nonetheless lots of people come and ask to look around, and - use the toilets! Sadly they never leave a donation though.

Only the Gents is usually unlocked.









Dodging the showers, we did manage to primer the remaining T&G boards, and later in the day, when it got quite agreeably sunny, there was an opportunity to put the same boards into undercoat, even both sides.

At the end of the day we stored everything in the container to allow the paint to dry for the next few hours.

On Friday we can load all this into the centre span.

A treat mid-afternoon is a cup of tea for the canopy gang, wherever they may be. John here has hidden himself under the steps where he is applying the last of the topcoat that is required for the P2 side.

Next Monday the P2 side scaffolding will be removed as well. Freedom for the steps at last.

A quick visit on Tuesday to meet a friend on the 12.06 from CRC. Here it is, just rolling into the station, with that magnificent King at its head.

The train was very well filled indeed, not a spare seat to be seen. The reason for this success seems to have been the fine weather, combined with a Teddybears day for the children. The Broadway cafe was doing good business, even before the first from CRC train rolled in.

This picture has turned out a bit blurred (it's probably the excitement) but you can see how full the platform was. It feels really good to see this, especially as yours truly was involved from the ground up and this sort of level of business was beyond his wildest dreams.

One lady visitor described the station as 'exquisite'. These sort of impromptu comments have made all the extra heritage effort particularly worthwhile.







Wednesday at Winchcombe

A terrible forecast, rain all morning, followed by thunderstorms. The water poured down the windows as we clutched our hot cups of tea and ate the doughnuts, trying not to let the jam roll down our sleeves and on to our trousers. The trick is to start with the hole where the jam was injected, and then eat inwards.

We watched the rain, and we watched the rain. Every now and then a little whirlwind would whip the driven rain into a sheet of water, so we sat there a little longer than usual.

Eventually the rain died down a bit, and we ventured outside. We fully expected a swimming pool where the Usk hut foundation pit was, but we were OK. It was do-able, so we carried on digging.

Dave P was at the controls of the Telehandler, while Jules gave him signals from a safe distance.

We dug out another layer, then measured it with the laser, and found it was still not deep enough.

The clay was softer - good - but also stickier - not so good.

We dug some of the clay out by hand, as you can't dig everything with the Telehandler, it's just not made for this sort of work.

We also took out a big chunk from the side, so that there would be more room to put the shuttering in.

At intervals we stopped and measured the depth off a datum point on the wall we built.

Still not deep enough!

A few yards away other members of the gang were replacing another timber in the yard turnout. They spent the day doing this, rain or shine.

There were 2 trains out today, featuring the King, 2807 and the class 47. It wasn't as busy as Tuesday, but what can you expect, with all this rain suddenly?

Further along was evidence of preparations for Friday's job, which is to exchange the bent switch at Broadway for a length of plain rail while it is away being repaired.

The plain rail has been loaded here, together with the base plates on which it will sit.

The Telehandler alternated between the timber replacers, and the Usketeers. Bucket off, forks on. Forks off again, bucket back on....
Here are Dave P and Julian removing the sleepers formerly behind the stop block. We tidied them up so that the Telehandler could get round the back and take a better run at scooping out the soil from the foundation hole.

For a while we had the company of Pete from C&M, who completely on his own moved the blocks to one side and started to ferry engineering blues from the C&M store on the other side.

The concrete for the foundations is coming next week.

After a lot of digging and smoothing the bottom of our foundation hole suddenly looked a lot better.

We tidied the hole up by hand, and after checking with the laser Paul declared himself satisfied. On to the next stage.

On the timber replacement job progress was good, and as you might see in this picture all the marked up rotten timbers have now been replaced on the main job, and clean ballast added (which the turnout never had before)

In fact two guys were already working on the next replacement marked up, right in front of the next switch along. It was dug out, ready for action next week.

A final shot of the Usk site, showing the completed dig, and a start made on the shuttering.

As King Edward II won't be here for very much longer, we treated ourselves to several pictures of this magnificent blue beast today.

As the loco waited for the crossing train to arrive from Toddington the driver did a quick walk around, just to make sure nothing was running hot.

All was fine of course. It is running very well indeed, during its stay with us.

Not long afterwards the crossing train did rumble in, here headed by heavy freight loco 2807. The signalman is ready with the token exchange.

As we stood there, we were in the company of Helen Carver, daughter of Winchcombe's last stationmaster (until closure on 7th March 1960). She was only a little girl when her father ran the station, but she remembers it well and wrote down what she could recall. She was happy to give us a copy of her jottings and some photographs of the 1950s, which we record below, for posterity. Otherwise they will lie in a drawer, or worse still, be lost. Hope you like them.

Shortly afterwards the big King moved off, with its 8 coach train in tow. It was wet and the train came out of a curve, but the King didn't put a foot wrong.

The sleeper changing team acknowledge the whistle, stand back and admire.



Helen Carver's childhood memories of Winchcombe

My father, Don Darver, was the stationmaster at Winchcombe station from 1951 to about 1961; we lived in station house. We moved from Stoke Edith station when I was two, and I was 11 or 12 years old when daddy moved to Ashchurch station as Stationmaster.

Helen in her father's arms outside station house in Winchcombe

The family consisted of my 5 older brothers Peter, Frank, Douglas, Roger and Paul. My mother Eileen was forty-four when she had me – she thought she was finished having children; I was an unexpected pregnancy. I redeemed myself by being a female baby!

Here are some of my memories when my father was stationmaster and the Carver family lived at Station house.

Please forgive me if some of the details are wrong, I am happy to be corrected, as the memories I have are either remembered by myself as a child, or told to me by my parents. Sadly my brother Roger Carver died last year. He was a volunteer on the GWSR railway as a travelling ticket inspector from the 1990s to 2013. These recollections are partly prompted in memory of him too. If he were still here he would be able to correct my facts, and elaborate on them too.

As you know station house is still there. We gained access to the station via a footpath from the back garden, along under the fir trees (still there) to the down platform. The path ran along a bank giving a good view of the passing trains, especially the down trains as they passed the signal box and through the station and then swung round the curve and under the road bridge.

5 year old Helen playing on platform 2 in 1953.

When I was about three or four years old I remember standing in the stationmaster’s office – my father and the staff admiring my new dungarees with an embroidered elephant on the bib (of which I was very proud) – I see the brown lino floor, a varnished table with ‘bulgy’ legs, a smell – oil(?) – from the lamps; the ‘clunk’ of the tickets being date-validated in the ticket office next door. Three porters: ‘Sarge’ in charge – grey hair, upright stance, navy blue porter’s uniform with a waistcoat. Raymond, probably twenty to thirty years old, the whizz kid, teddy boy style haircut – as far as he dare, and the junior porter Terrence, and adolescent.

Next door was the parcels office, wooden floor and wooden racks where the parcels were stored. The gentlemens toilet was at the other end with the reminder notice ‘adjust your dress before leaving’.

When I was about 5 or 6 years old I used to hang about the platform trying to lift the lid of a heavy square box that was on the platform sometimes. Whenever I lifted it, an inner lid closed. I was puzzled by this and it kept me occupied – evidently it was the wages safe box. There were boxes of films for Winchcombe cinema at the old tanneries. Crates of fish – kippers, I think. The porters moving items around on the four wheeled trolley with a long handle, or the two wheeled truck. Occasionally several wicker baskets containing homing/racing pigeons arrived. My father would take me with him when he released them from the goods yard. As he set them free at intervals, I loved to watch the birds fly in their groups and circle around, deciding which way was home.

I would accompany my mother to Cheltenham St James, shopping. I remember travelling on on a diesel rail car. It was either chocolate and cream, or red and  cream in colour. It was a single car with ‘pointy’ ends.

My mother would shop at Shires & Lance and Wards department store. I was fascinated by the vacuum system at the cash desk – a sort of elevated desk. The money was put in a container and then ‘whooosh’ into a vacuum tube up into the ceiling and somewhere I know not (the cash office I suppose). I always wore brown leather lace up shoes, really chunky ones. I had a new pair annually from Adcocks shoe shop, Lower High Street. I looked forward to standing up in a device so that I could see an x-ray of my feet. This determined my shoes size, and I only had an annual dose of x-ray to my feet, thank goodness!

A regular passenger was Mr. Purton. He lived in Greet and travelled towards Stratford. Very formally dressed (businessman) in a three piece suit and a trilby hat. If I spotted him when I was lurking on the platform I would cross over to the up platform and sidle up to him and smile sweetly, hoping he would give me 2/6d, which he usually did. I came away with my trophy, the big coin in my hand. When mummy and I next shopped in Cheltenham I would be allowed to buy a treat from Woolworths. They were in the Lower High Street, wooden floors and open counters, full of goodies to buy!

At station house I slept in the front bedroom which I shared with my mother. I had a little wooden bed with really high wooden bed ends. Across the room from me was a massive wardrobe – two doors each side of a full length mirror with a chamfered edge. The top of the wardrobe was embellished with a decorative frieze, and I imagined them to be like the battlements of a castle.

As I lay in bed waiting to fall asleep in the dusky light I would hear the rumble of the goods trains. If they were heavy goods trains, such as wagons of limestone, it would cause the wardrobe to shake and I would watch as the mirror trembled, causing the glass chamfer to glitter in the evening light. It was comforting to me and I felt that all was well as I dozed off to sleep.

Helen's brother Paul racing round the corner into station approach.

My father was also responsible for Gretton halt, Gotherington and Bishops Cleeve stations. Queen Elizabeth the second was to alight from the royal train at Bishops Cleeve. This was about 1953, maybe to visit locally or attend a race meeting. Great excitement! Daddy was detailed to open the carriage door for the queen!

On the big day crowds of people assembled on the station approach. I seem to recall my mother checking the Ladies Waiting Room at Bishops Cleeve station. The brown lino gleaming, it was so highly polished. The same varnished table with bulgy legs as at Winchcombe, on which my mother placed some lovely garden flowers in a ceramic vase (I like to think the vase was Winchcombe pottery – it seemed that style). I followed her into the toilet as she checked that it was to her satisfaction. I regarded the wooden toilet seat and cistern high up on the wall with chain and handle with interest. I wondered why mummy did this check. ‘In case the queen is taken short’ was the reply!

When we took our place outside we stood at the front of the crowd. She held me up, I could see daddy waiting, in his navy blue uniform and cap. The red carpet was ready and big black shiny cars were waiting. Such excitement!

The royal train drew up and we felt so proud as daddy opened the carriage door and Her Majesty stepped out, everyone erupted into happy cheers. But I was disappointed apparently, as I cried out ‘but she hasn’t got her crown on!’. I had seen so many pictures of the queen’s recent coronation when she was adorned with a crown, regalia and robes, I thought she went everywhere dressed like that.

Stationmaster Don Carver and his son Peter in front of station house. Note the GWR pillbox hat and smart uniform.

I would be told ‘The Cornishman’ is due and I would make haste and take up position on our path – it was a good viewpoint. I only remember seeing it on the down line, as it took the curve. I had full view of the Hall or Castle class engine, green with brass details. However I concentrated on seeing the Cornishman nameplate and the Cornish pixie on the front of the engine. It was so exciting yet evocative, this pixie hurtling past me. It was a thrill as this engine powered past, shaking the ground, pistons pounding. The resplendent coaches slid by, full of happy holidaymakers on their way to the Cornish Riviera.

Brother Peter Carver's MG outside station house.

On one occasion daddy told me I must go and see a ‘King’ hauling a passenger train, The Cornishman, I must look for the bell on the front of the King (which King – answers on a postcard please). I dashed to the path to wait, again the down line. Soon I spotted it, passing the signal box and on towards the station. I was on full alert. A King! As it approached I saw the brass bell on the front, then as it passed me I had a full side view of the pistons and wheels. So dynamic! I realised I was so lucky to see this sight. Even though I saw trains every day, I knew this was special.

Inside the new Ashchurch signal box.

Brother Douglas Carver, fireman, at Evesham.

 ******

NB Helen was born in 1949 so would have been 5 years old when she saw the queen. She is the only person we know that can remember the inside of one of our stations.

She also reports that the booking office clerk and the stationmaster shared an office, and sat back to back. After Winchcombe closed, her father became stationmaster at Ashchurch.

Douglas Carver commuted to Evesham from Winchcombe on his 600cc motorbike, always at maximum speed. One morning this did not go so well, and he came off in front of the the church at Sedgeberrow. Douglas eventually qualified as a driver at Bristol, then moved on to diesels at Warrington.