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Authors: Geoffrey Household
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little brain. He used to splash himself with oil and coal dust to look like a real fireman. He didnât. You might have taken him for a tramp who had been sheltering from the rain in a garage pit.
The girlies skipped off to a tent by the river to hear Hardyâs annual speech and put away some lunch. Flags waved gaily over the white canvas and a little brass band played a welcome of the latest popular songs. It was a blazing June day with thunder in the air and when we had run the train into a siding we ourselves went to the local pub for beer and sandwiches. The bar had a few jokes at our expense â four coaches of women among three men and so forth. We didnât think them very funny, for there was something unnatural about those two hundred female passengers, the old catching the giggles from the young. We were uneasy as if there had been a wagon load of explosives just behind the engine. Perfectly safe, of course. But one is appalled by sheer quantity.
At three oâclock we went to work again. At first sight the task of getting the train from the down to the up line with the County of London at the right end appeared nearly hopeless; but Jimmy was a positive chap with a commanding manner, ready to take responsibility. An invaluable quality in Africa, I expect. He ran the Holyhead boat train into the only other siding, blocked a down freight, borrowed its locomotive and by occupying most of the main line between Pangbourne and Reading had hitched his County of London to the front of his own train. The girlies encouraged us with cheers and laughter, lined up on the platform and singing all the songs played by the band. They were tousled and shrill and the cheap make-up sold by Models Ltd was running in the heat.
While they climbed into the coaches, Sir John, who had been watching our manoeuvres with a sightseerâs interestand a large glass of port, paced up the platform and made a little speech to Jimmy on his patriotism and what-not, shaking his hand with genial condescension. He mistook the fireman for the real article and congratulated him on not being led away by subversive and anti-Christian agitators. He made his money, I believe, in Australia where a strikeâs a strike and could not be expected to know that English labour leaders were more likely to be fervid chapel-goers than Marxists.
When this moving ceremony was over and the doors were shut and Sir John and his managers waving goodbye till next year, the County of London whistled and drew out of the platform in smart mainline style. I just had time to wave the green flag and blow my own little whistle, but I doubt if anybody was taken in.
Before we were fairly out of the station Jimmy stopped with such a jerk that an empty oil drum charged down the guardâs van towards London by itself. I looked out of the window. A down train was creeping at us on the up line. We had forgotten one set of points after all our shunting, and the new arrival was proceeding with caution in search of authority.
While Jimmy and his vis-Ã -vis straightened matters out, the girlies flowed back onto the empty platform and began to dance. There was a lot of horseplay and shrieking, for they had the place to themselves. Sir John and his henchmen had left, and I kept discreetly to my van. I donât know if you have noticed that young women, by the mere fact of being in a group and unrestricted, can reach a state of innocent excitement that would take the ordinary man three or four double whiskies on an empty stomach.
The intrusive train passed on its correct line, and Jimmy and the fireman returned to the locomotive. I shepherded the girlies back into their compartments and walked down the train shutting doors and turning handles. We were forbidden to start till all handles were in a horizontal position. A strict rule. Even Jimmy observed it.
When I was halfway down the last coach I heard gigglesbehind me and turned round. The passengers had opened the
The girlies skipped off to a tent by the river to hear Hardyâs annual speech and put away some lunch. Flags waved gaily over the white canvas and a little brass band played a welcome of the latest popular songs. It was a blazing June day with thunder in the air and when we had run the train into a siding we ourselves went to the local pub for beer and sandwiches. The bar had a few jokes at our expense â four coaches of women among three men and so forth. We didnât think them very funny, for there was something unnatural about those two hundred female passengers, the old catching the giggles from the young. We were uneasy as if there had been a wagon load of explosives just behind the engine. Perfectly safe, of course. But one is appalled by sheer quantity.
At three oâclock we went to work again. At first sight the task of getting the train from the down to the up line with the County of London at the right end appeared nearly hopeless; but Jimmy was a positive chap with a commanding manner, ready to take responsibility. An invaluable quality in Africa, I expect. He ran the Holyhead boat train into the only other siding, blocked a down freight, borrowed its locomotive and by occupying most of the main line between Pangbourne and Reading had hitched his County of London to the front of his own train. The girlies encouraged us with cheers and laughter, lined up on the platform and singing all the songs played by the band. They were tousled and shrill and the cheap make-up sold by Models Ltd was running in the heat.
While they climbed into the coaches, Sir John, who had been watching our manoeuvres with a sightseerâs interestand a large glass of port, paced up the platform and made a little speech to Jimmy on his patriotism and what-not, shaking his hand with genial condescension. He mistook the fireman for the real article and congratulated him on not being led away by subversive and anti-Christian agitators. He made his money, I believe, in Australia where a strikeâs a strike and could not be expected to know that English labour leaders were more likely to be fervid chapel-goers than Marxists.
When this moving ceremony was over and the doors were shut and Sir John and his managers waving goodbye till next year, the County of London whistled and drew out of the platform in smart mainline style. I just had time to wave the green flag and blow my own little whistle, but I doubt if anybody was taken in.
Before we were fairly out of the station Jimmy stopped with such a jerk that an empty oil drum charged down the guardâs van towards London by itself. I looked out of the window. A down train was creeping at us on the up line. We had forgotten one set of points after all our shunting, and the new arrival was proceeding with caution in search of authority.
While Jimmy and his vis-Ã -vis straightened matters out, the girlies flowed back onto the empty platform and began to dance. There was a lot of horseplay and shrieking, for they had the place to themselves. Sir John and his henchmen had left, and I kept discreetly to my van. I donât know if you have noticed that young women, by the mere fact of being in a group and unrestricted, can reach a state of innocent excitement that would take the ordinary man three or four double whiskies on an empty stomach.
The intrusive train passed on its correct line, and Jimmy and the fireman returned to the locomotive. I shepherded the girlies back into their compartments and walked down the train shutting doors and turning handles. We were forbidden to start till all handles were in a horizontal position. A strict rule. Even Jimmy observed it.
When I was halfway down the last coach I heard gigglesbehind me and turned round. The passengers had opened the
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