Blog- Half a century of not producing a model railway - The collectibles take a battering

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I suppose we’re all a lot more conscious of the notion of ‘collectibles’ these days, or at least the notion of not ruining the packaging just in case we have to sell it on at some stage. This notion hadn’t yet surfaced in the mind of a 5 year old boy in 1964, sitting in the middle of a circle of Hornby O Gauge track.
Trains are for playing with, and scale speed wasn’t on the agenda.

 

I still believe in this philosophy, and no matter how I represent the hobby to my wife in terms of model engineering *cough*, aesthetic attributes, artistic leanings, historical research… I think she’s seen through the façade, and suspects I like playing with trains.

 

Back in the 1960’s however, my collection of collectibles was getting a battering. They had already been battered by the previous generation and once again they were standing up to a small boy and whizzing around the track. There were two 0-4-0 tank locomotives, in Great Western and BR Lined Black (clearly a late purchase from somewhere) and a 4-4-2T in GWR Shirtbutton livery, a couple of tinplate coaches and several assorted wagons, all of which provided hours of absorbing fun.

 

These locomotives were always wound up to the full, then using the double pushrod controls emerging from of the cab they would be unleashed to hurtle around the track, often throwing themselves off in the race to arrive at the station. The collectibles were becoming less collectable. Being a model passenger in those days was a high risk occupation.

 

Robust they certainly were, but I did manage to destroy the driving wheels on the 4-4-2T. Thankfully Portsmouth Naval Dockyard had a Hornby driving wheel workshop, and it is these Cold War driving wheels that she wears to this day.

 

As time wore on, I became vaguely aware of something known as electric trains. I suspect the ‘Blue Peter Train Set’ may have had a hand in this, quite a decent double oval of track pioneered by Christopher Trace and amended over the years. This was exciting television, small boy television.

 

It was during a visit to the Bath Pram and Toy Shop that I came face to face with electric trains.
Many months later, after a long and arduous campaign of pestering, and probably at Christmas of 1964, Father Christmas finally delivered what Mum and Dad had abjectly failed to do.

 

A large scruffy brown cardboard box had appeared in the house, obviously from the North Pole.

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