The Pre-Grouper's Literary Corner

[sem34090]

I have an old essay on re-nationalisation somewhere... may post it later...

 

I say 'Old', it's only a couple of years old but still a bit rubbish.

[RedGemAlchemist]

     I'm glad someone's does... I found one of my old A Level Literature essays, and while it wasn't bad, it isn't great, though it's given me some ideas for my dissertation next year (maybe I have an unhealthy obsession with Rebecca...) I really enjoyed my A Level Literature course overall; we covered the Pastoral both years, and as apparently it was one of the lesser-covered course options, we were told that we were more likely to be sympathetically or 'loosely' graded as markers weren't as familiar with the texts. I tell you though, As You Like It grows old quickly; I'll always prefer Twelfth Night, vastly funnier, I found, and more cleverly written. Thanks to the course though, I discovered my enjoyment of W.H. Auden, Larkin, Fanthorpe and Jennings, notably the latter's poem, Absence, which I always found rather bittersweet.

 

     There was one essay I remember writing for AS English Language and it was based on the proposal for renationalisation and the prospective usefulness of HS1- suffice to say, it scored a reasonable grade. Regrettably I don't have much else from A Level, let alone anything from GCSE, but then, I suppose I'm glad of that. Probably floating around  somewhere in the depths of my Google Drive or laptop there may be some History coursework from our coverage of the Cold War and Irish History (1845-1921), which may lend itself to my Sociology coursework for this semester (Movements, Mobilisation and Protest, and theories/criticism of, applied to a movement of our choice, in my instance, the IRA).

 

     - Alex

Mine I still have... I have an essay on the use of symbolism in Frankenstein, an analysis of The Great Gatsby where I argue the case that Nick Carraway is presented as being ambiguously homosexual, several shorter ones on Carol Ann Duffy's poetry collection The World's Wife and, my masterpiece, an analysis of Of Mice and Men particularly focused on Lenny and how his portrayal is significant to me and my own struggles with mental illness which also goes on about the portrayal of mental illness in a couple other contemporary works. 

Edited May 4, 2018 by RedGemAlchemist

[St Enodoc]

     I'm glad someone's does... I found one of my old A Level Literature essays, and while it wasn't bad, it isn't great, though it's given me some ideas for my dissertation next year (maybe I have an unhealthy obsession with Rebecca...) I really enjoyed my A Level Literature course overall; we covered the Pastoral both years, and as apparently it was one of the lesser-covered course options, we were told that we were more likely to be sympathetically or 'loosely' graded as markers weren't as familiar with the texts. I tell you though, As You Like It grows old quickly; I'll always prefer Twelfth Night, vastly funnier, I found, and more cleverly written. Thanks to the course though, I discovered my enjoyment of W.H. Auden, Larkin, Fanthorpe and Jennings, notably the latter's poem, Absence, which I always found rather bittersweet.

 

     There was one essay I remember writing for AS English Language and it was based on the proposal for renationalisation and the prospective usefulness of HS1- suffice to say, it scored a reasonable grade. Regrettably I don't have much else from A Level, let alone anything from GCSE, but then, I suppose I'm glad of that. Probably floating around  somewhere in the depths of my Google Drive or laptop there may be some History coursework from our coverage of the Cold War and Irish History (1845-1921), which may lend itself to my Sociology coursework for this semester (Movements, Mobilisation and Protest, and theories/criticism of, applied to a movement of our choice, in my instance, the IRA).

 

     - Alex

Isn't that the whole point?

[runs as required]

... maybe I have an unhealthy obsession with Rebecca...

Thank you for this line on RMweb that I enjoyed passing on to my wife to reinforce her deep suspicions about weirdo railway nutters

And as one such myself: may I recommend to you du Maurier's The Scapegoat ?

To keep OT: the action will get under way in the crowded Refreshment room of Le Mans Station.

Enjoy ! (Ugh)

[RedGemAlchemist]

Thank you for this line on RMweb that I enjoyed passing on to my wife to reinforce her deep suspicions about weirdo railway nutters

And as one such myself: may I recommend to you du Maurier's The Scapegoat ?

To keep OT: the action will get under way in the crowded Refreshment room of Le Mans Station.

Enjoy ! (Ugh)

And may I recommend to you something: Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, a novel which, while brilliant, is so controversial that its nomination for the 1974 Pulitzer Prize in Fiction single-handedly stopped the awarding of a prize for that year. Also known for its bizarre cast of characters and its incredibly unconventional ending.

Edited May 7, 2018 by RedGemAlchemist

[Stubby47]

Ode to 'Little Muddle' - apologies to RLS.

 

Slower than prairies, slower than panniers,
Bridges and houses, Chuchwards and Stanniers;
And ambling along like steeds on a ranch,
All through the meadows the train on the branch.
All the sights of the hill and the plain,
Pass by softly like misty rain.
And ever again, in 40 winks,
Lineside pubs are serving drinks.

 

Here is the Colonel, fishing for sharks,
All by himself, casting in arcs.
Here is a salt, long left the sea,
Tales to tell those who pass by the quay.
There's Kev & Doug, chatting away
Watching the spuds as they gently sway
And here is a mill and there is a river,
Captured perfectly and preserved for ever.

[runs as required]

References to John Betjeman( by Stubby and others on page 5 above) reminds me that in my school, boys were not allowed inside during the dinner break, except in extreme weather. A nerdish ill-formed oaf like me had to hang around out of the wind and rain, trying to avoid being picked last and humiliated in school yard football. I recall this to be a continuous Five Years War: ManU versus Derby County, fought across the tarmac skating rink of the boys playground .

 

Around halfway through 4B I discovered that by slouching by the entrance to the library pre-fab, hoping to intercept a young English teacher arriving for Library Dinner Duty, it might be possible  to chat yourself in with:

 

"Please Miss. could I come in to read the Manchester Guardian, please Miss?

 

"Why, yes!  Of course! Very pleased to find one of you boys interested in current affairs."

 

When it worked, you could get in, sit at the big table with the journals and politely request today's Manchester Guardian.
Opening it out you could hide behind its broadsheet acres trying to establish contact with unattainable Hope Valley girls (forever fairer than girls our side of Cowburn tunnel under the Pennine watershed).
If the MG was already bagged by a Sixth Former, you’d have to make do with far too small publications like “History Today” and Geography mags.

 

On one such MG-less lunchtime I had a life-changing experience. I discovered John Betjeman.

 

The largest format publication left unclaimed was the Spectator. I picked it up, ruffled through its dry as dust format, judging whether I could use it opened out to conceal my advances to a pair of Castleton girls I was fantasising about.
Suddenly one line about the line to Padstow jumped out at me.
I zeroed in and it was all about where we’d lived for over a year in the war and, of course, about the Sou’Western via Wadebridge down from Waterloo. It mentioned Pentire, where I’d crossed the sands to school at low tide (and was allowed to be late on high-tide mornings).
 

So, from 4B onwards, for years I became hooked on JB’s “City and Suburban” column in the Spectator. He taught me how to savour the eccentricities of railways as a parallel universe. He especially enjoyed the quirks of ‘Joint lines’ the M&GN, S&DJ, Cheshire Lines, besides his well known love of Metroland and the GCR.
He introduced me to the ‘Battle of the Styles’ and imaginative neo-gothic C19 architects (who Nicholas Pevsner later argued, in lecturing to us at university, were the progenitors of modern architecture. Pevsner showed slides of fantastic Waterhouse gothic interiors alongside the London Zoo Penguin Pool).

 

I still have Betjeman’s book “First and last Loves” published in 1952 – a wonderfully imaginative collaboration with the artist John Piper.

I chose it in Lower Sixth as the school Art Prize for having helped the Artmaster start a lunchtime school Art Club for kids from about fourteen upwards (to be able to flirt together in the anarchic backroom of the school Artroom)

 

In 1961, working in the BR(E) Civil Engineer’s at Kings Cross, I spotted ‘City and Suburban’ lit up one lunchtime above a platform at Baker Street Station. I was delighted to discover it was a distinctively non standard large pre-grouping Metropolitan illuminated  box sign. I doubt it still survives.
In 1961 Private Eye magazine first appeared and of course John Betjeman was the ‘Eye’s’ first ‘Piloti’ columnist. 

 

But I do hope someone one day puts together a collection of his wide ranging  Spectator “City and Suburban” columns.  They should prove a moneymaking best seller for the Spectator. 

dh

[Killian keane]

The Saga doth continueth in 'The Sussex Play'...

Act 4 - Scene 1

The yard. In the middle, the ash pit.

Steam, Enter the three WAINWRIGHT P's.

Bluebell: Thrice the B4 Tank hath whistled.

Primrose: Thrice and once the block bells chimed. (ED. For the 'Wealden Rambler' was due to leave for Horsted, and it's an express. I know Sheffield Park is a terminus...)

178: Birch Grove cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.

Bluebell: Round about the ashpit go;

In the boiler sludge throw.

TOAD, that under cold stone

Days and nights has the O-One

Swelter'd diesel (sleeping git)

Burn thou first i' the charmed pit.

All: Double, double toil and trouble;

Firebox burn and Ashpit shovel.

Primrose: Fillet of some boiler plate,

In the ashpit melt and cremate;

Rod of H and buffer of U,

Bulleid Chain and Wainwright Flue,

Adams Bogie and a cylinder ring,

Drummond dome and the machine that goes 'ping',

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell ashpit, boil and shovel.

All: Double, double toil and trouble;

Firebox burn and Ashpit shovel.

178: Green of Stroudley, wheel of Gooch,

Stephen's Gazelle, Gresley's Pooch,

Of the new-build Marsh Atlantic,

The wheels begin turning frantic,

Boxpoks of the stuffed Q1,

Just so I can think of a pun,

The nose of an A4,

A spanner left on the workshop floor,

A fresh new Wainwright Pagoda cab,

Dubdee outshopped in WD Drab,

The tender from a Hughes-Fowler Crab,

Add thereto a tiger's ashpit,

For the ingredients of this sh*t.

All: Double, double toil and trouble;

Firebox burn and Ashpit shovel.

Primrose: Cool it with the finest water.

Then test the charm o' the nearest Porter.

Enter HECATE (0-8-0T) to the three WAINWRIGHT P's.

Hecate: O well done! I commend your pains;

And everyone shall share i' the gains;

And now about the ashpit sing,

Live Pecketts and Barclays all in a ring,

Enchanting all that you put in.

Music and a song: 'Black Moguls' & C.

HECATE retires.

Primrose: By the clunking of my Buffers, ( )

Something wicked this way chuffers.

Open, points,

Whoever appoints!

Enter STEPNEY

Stepney: How now, you secret, green (and blue), and midnight tanks?

What is't you do?

All: A deed without a name.

Stepney: I conjure you, by that which you profess,

Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:

Though you untie the jumbos and let them fight (ED: Them Caley 0-6-0's keep me up all the night!)

Against the management, through yesty clouds,

Confound and swallow trackwork up;

Though bladed points be lodged and trees blown down;

Though bridges topple on the signal heads;

Though signal posts and lamps do slope

Their heads to their foundations; though the treasures

Of the C&W Workshop do tumble all together,

Even till destruction stricken; answer me

To what I ask you.

Bluebell: Speak.

Primose: Demand.

178: We'll answer.

Bluebell: Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,

Or from our masters?

Stepney: Call 'em, let me see 'em.

Bluebell: Pour in the porter's blood, that hath eaten

His bacon sarnie; fat that's sweaten

From the buffet's frying pan through

Over the gas-ring stove.

All: Come, high or low;

Thyself and office deftly show!

Steam. FIRST APPARITION: An armed tank (An ex-GER F5)

Stepney: Tell me, thou unknown power, --

Bluebell: He knows thy thought:

Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

First Apparition: Stepney! Stepney! Stepney! beware the 'Duff.

Beware the Thane of Loughborough. Dismiss me. Enough.

Descends

Stepney: Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;

Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one word more, --

Bluebell: He will not be commanded: here's another,

More potent than the first.

Steam. SECOND APPARITION: Princess Anne (As met her end at Harrow)

Second Appartion: Stepney! Stepney! Stepney!

Stepney: Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.

Second Apparition: Be bloody, bold and resolute; laugh to scorn

The power of diesel, for none of Brush Works built

Shall harm Stepney.

Descends

Stepney: Then live, Duff, what need I fear of thee?

But yet I'll make assurance double sure,

And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;

That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,

And sleep in spite of thunder.

Steam. THIRD APPARITION: A Royal Engine (LBSCR B1 'Gladstone' ordained with royal regalia)

What is this

That rises like the issue of a king,

And wears upon his smokebox door the crown

And garters of sovereignty?

All: Listen, but speak not to't.

Third Apparition: Be lion-mettled, proud and take no care

Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:

Stepney shall never be vanquished until

Great Sharpthorne Tunnel to Sheffield Park

Shall come against him.

Descends

Stepney: That will never be

Who can impress the tunnel, bid the brick

Unfix its hill-bound wall? Sweet bodements! good!

Rebellion's head, rise never till the tunnel

Of Sharpthorne rise, and our high-placed Stepney

Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath

To time and mortal custom. Yet my boiler

Throbs to know one thing: tell me if your art

Can tell me so much: shall Fenchurch's issue ever

Reign in this kingdom?

All: Seek to know no more.

Stepney: I will be satisfied: deny me this,

And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.

Why sinks that ashpit? and what noise is this?

Whistles

Bluebell: Show!

Primrose: Show!

178: Show!

All: Show his eyes and grieve his heart;

Come like shadows, so depart!

A show of eight terriers, the last in original A1 form. The GHOST OF FENCHURCH following.

Stepney: Thou art too like the spirit of Fenchurch: Down!

Thy copper-top does sear mine smokebox. And thy bunker,

Thou other coal-railed rear, is like the first.

A third is like the former. Filthy P's!

Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes!

What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?

Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more:

And yet an eighth appears, who bears A1 form

Which shows me many more; and some I see

That two-fold domes and treble chimneys carry:

Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;

For the rust-bolter'd Fenchurch smiles upon me

And points at them for his.

Apparitions Vanish

What, is this so?

Bluebell: Ay, Sir, all this is so: but why

Stands Stepney so amazedly?

Come, Wainwrights, cheer we up his sprites,

And show the best of our delights:

I'll charm the air to give a sound,

While you perform your antic round:

That this great king may kindly say,

Our duties did his welcome pay.

Music. The WAINWRIGHT P's shunt and then vanish, with HECATE.

Stepney: Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour

Stand aye accursed in the calendar!

Come in, without there!

Enter NORMANDY

Normandy: What's your grace's will?

Stepney: Saw you the Wainwright P's?

Normandy: No, my Lord.

Stepney: Came they not by the yard office?

Normandy: No, indeed, my Lord.

Stepney: Infected be the rails whereupon they ride;

And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear

The clattering of couplings: what was't that came by?

Normandy: 'Tis two or three, my Lord, that bring you word

The 'Duff is fled to Swanage.

Stepney: Fled to Swanage!

Normandy: Ay, my good Lord.

Stepney: Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits:

The flighty purpose never is o'ertook

Unless the deed go with it; from this moment

The very firstlings of my heart shall be

The firstlings of my hand. And even now,

To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:

The shed of the 'Duff I will surprise;

Seize upon Loughborough; give to the edge o' the sword

His Tractor, his Chopper and all unfortunate diesels

That associate with his like. No boasting like a fool;

This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.

But no more sights!-- Where are these gentlemen?

Come, bring me where they are.

Exeunt

Methinks the quarry hunslets in the sky hath some hand in the consequences that yet hang aloft amongst the stars

[Caley Jim]

Methinks the quarry hunslets in the sky hath some hand in the consequences that yet hang aloft amongst the starsnoel-w.png

When shall we five meet again...

 

Jim  (with apologies to WS)

[sem34090]

"At Grinstead, Kingscote or Horsted Keynes"

 

"When the Branchline Gala's done - when 813's gone an' done one"