Johnson044

...and rather good it is too.

Just for info - a local hero. https://www.pressreader.com/uk/kentish-gazette-canterbury-district/20130411/282110634080518

A very fine model and, by the looks of things, some rather lovely timber windows.

I could write pages, Edwardian - but I won't as I'm busy being an one of the species in question and must get on with my work! I have to say, though, that much of what you say is spot on. The brave new world that looked so wonderful in the post-Luftwaffe drawings, showing the broad plazas with shoppers and traffic segregated, so quickly became the frightening underpasses and excrement smeared lifts of reality. Fortunately Canterbury was largely spared - thanks mainly to an Architect called Anthony Swaine, who does not get the recognition he deserves- he kicked the incendiaries from the cathedral roof and campaigned so vigorously to List so many buildings. We do, indeed have a problem- and, locally, the issue seems to be that something will be pulled down (Dover's Leisure Centre for example, conveniently located in the town and replaced with one out of town that you've got to drive to) - and replaced with a magnificent "nothing".

This is really lovely - no relation to the real Nr 103, except for the wheel arrangement - the model has a very Caledonian air about it. https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/284825863464?_trkparms=amclksrc%3DITM%26aid%3D111001%26algo%3DREC.SEED%26ao%3D1%26asc%3D20160908105057%26meid%3D728f92971b1d4527a4e5fdcb14cfe478%26pid%3D100675%26rk%3D3%26rkt%3D15%26sd%3D403680102837%26itm%3D284825863464%26pmt%3D0%26noa%3D1%26pg%3D2380057%26brand%3D3rd+Rail&_trksid=p2380057.c100675.m4236&_trkparms=pageci%3Aa23b7ad9-dd97-11ec-bdf3-56c8d9a637a0|parentrq%3A04a5dab21810a744505ec8bdfffd4232|iid%3A14

Indeed!

These photos are terrific. When Snow Hill was built it really was a GWR flagship project.

I'm not surprised they gave it away! BCC seem to have set themselves up as arbiters of what visitors might find interesting. I think I can remember the Orchestrion - but it's dancing on the edge of my memory. I remember a bike wheel with sheet metal over the spokes that you could spin to demonstrate centrifugal force- and the three Stirling hot air engines of different sizes just as you entered the museum, that always seemed to be running. So much has gone - i was very surprised that The Pinto collection of wooden objects had also gone from the art gallery. I keep hoping for an opportunity to visit the reserve collection: https://www.birminghammuseums.org.uk/collection/museum-collection-centre

Spar!!!! Sorry...

Ah yes - The Spa shop in Sandwich - Know it well.

A bit more progress. Rather hurried photos and in rather brutal close-up. Needs a sand box on each side, I think. Cab pulled back together as best I can. I did think about making a new cab roof but the point of the exercise is to repair what's there and not try to make a perfect scale model.

Dear all Thanks for the wonderful response - so many memories, many heartfelt. I'll respond properly soon but work beckons. In the meantime, a quick plug for Tennents Trains - they do some rather fine DVD's. Particularly recommend John Tennent's "Bygone Days - on the Severn Valley and Halesowen & Harbourne Branch Lines". All (except for some recent exploration of trackbed and an amazing bit with a Kirtley 0-6-0 at Longbridge in the 1920's) filmed in the late '50's and early '60's. Some shots of one of Bournville's 2f's at on the Halesowen branch and some lovely Midland Red buses. The other titles are good too. An informative narrative with a gentle regional accent.

I've put a new post about Bairmingub in the UK Prototype discussions (not questions) section. Takes a bit of wading through.

The last bit! This rather brings me to the other big (actually quite stupendous) destination, this time to the west side of Snow Hill- on Newhall Street. The Birmingham Museum of Science and Industry was one of the finest city museums in the land and its closure surely one of the worst acts of civic vandalism in recent years. Housed in the buildings of the Elkington Silver Electroplating Works this lovely museum was a source of delight and inspiration to many, many people. The prize exhibit was 46235 “City of Birmingham” which arrived straight from a cosmetic overhaul at Crewe in 1964 and, hence, is one of the few (if not the only) surviving steam locomotives in authentic paint. The poor thing was pushed and pulled hydraulically backwards and forwards, half-hourly, I think (this always seemed to me a rather cheap and un-dignified trick) and sat in a purpose-built hall along with “Leonard” a 2’ Kerr-Stuart 0-4-2ST and “Lorna Doone” a Bagnall 0-4-0ST of similar gauge. There was also “Secundus”, one of only two locomotives built in the city, a venerable 0-6-0WT with Gooch valve gear. I recently met this old friend again in the goods shed at Corfe Castle station on the Swanage Railway, close to where Secundus spent most of her (or his?) working life- quite an emotional re-union. There was also, amongst other locally-made exhibits, a circular button-making machine- perhaps the most complicated mechanical device I’ve ever come across. This wonderful device of oiled brown metal would be set into chattering and spider-like motion at the push of a button and was absolutely fascinating to watch. Indeed, much of the museum would often be a blur of movement, especially on the regular steaming days. A large model of a colonial railway carriage with the roof hinged up so that you could appreciate the lavish interior springs to mind also- this was next to a display of radios (you could listen to the same piece of music from each in turn by selecting buttons) and I hear the tune in my mind still. A diorama that I remember, still, with a degree of awe was that of an alchemist in his workshop, long straggly white hair and staring into the glass phial of who knows what in his hand- an absolutely haunted and terrifying figure that put me in mind of “Adam Eterno” (anyone else remember him?) the ragged time traveller from the comic “Lion”. A locally made Japanese suit of armour made a similar impression on me. Some of the exhibits made it to “Think Tank”, which is, I’m afraid, very much a shadow of the old museum and I found it desperately disappointing when I took my children there. We left the city in 1976, to pastures new in East Kent and a railway scene that had already seen a much earlier major upheaval and was evolving still. The endless array of EMU’s could not compete with the Peaks, Class 40’s and Westerns that I left behind and I missed them sorely. During my late childhood and early teens the lost and abandoned railways were largely available for exploration, mostly illicitly but invariably easily. There were often big expanses of ballast with platforms, empty buildings and plenty of ironwork and all sorts of interesting things that could be liberated and brought home. Much of this is now built on and gone for good, with housing and out-of-town retail being the prime candidates. The trackbeds that have not been turned into cycle paths have become enclosed behind un-climbable fencing and really impenetrable undergrowth. The culverts choke and cuttings flood. There are sometimes main sewers along the old alignment and the infrastructure for these has patinated to the same degree as the surviving railway equipment- all part of the railway’s History but the ghosts of the old railwaymen are very faint now. I haven’t been back much. The once excellent museums have been closed or dumbed-down, the derelict places have been sanitized and much of the city centre reconstructed beyond recognition. There is still quality to be had, and it’s not hard to find- Moor Street Station is a gem of good conservation practice and I’m told the Jewellery quarter, too has considerable charm though I've yet to go. I do miss the T Rex in the Natural History museum, though. Hope there's some food for thought in the above. It would be good to hear from anyone who shares some of these memories.

...and some more Birmingham had some good model shops- Horton’s Corner springs to mind, just off Navigation Street “That shop that you don’t like, Mum”, which had an alluring window display of Aurora vampires, Mummies, Phantoms of the Opera, guillotines- and also Pryo dinosaurs and flintlock pistols, of which I eventually amassed a decent collection. Oh, to have them now. T here was also a tiny model shop in Burlington Arcade, where the pub at the bottom had an LMS theme, with the windows made up to look like sections on an LMS carriage and a (7 ¼” gauge or so) Royal Scot inside- wonder what became of that… Beatties, too was not without its good points. There was also, as I’ve mentioned above, another Bearwood Models in the district bearing the same name, and with a full-size railway signal outside, although I only went there a couple of times- remembered mainly for the bus ride, which was on one of the elderly, immaculate and rather other-worldly vehicles still in use on certain routes- a dear old Crossley, I think- open at the rear to hop on and off like a Routemaster. I cycled to Halesowen on one occasion and discovered Tennents Trains, which are still around, although they’ve long since moved. I bought a lovely rake of Kitmaster coaches that had been well put together. The best model shop of all, though, was that provided by the array of preservation group stands at the Tyseley open days, where the long cinder path would become like a souk and, against the moving background of Kolaphur and Clun Castle, either end of a slowly-shuttling rake of Mk 1’s, there was a huge variety of second-hand model railway equipment and railway ephemera to be had. Health & Safety had not yet spoiled Tyseley either and the un-restored steam engines could be climbed on at will. I’ve been back since – it’s still a great day out but H&S has been very much tightened up and it’s not quite the same. The branch of Bearwood models near Snow Hill was reached via St Chad’s Circus, which sat to the east of the station and contained some of the best public art I’ve seen- then or since. These were the Kenneth Budd mosaics and depicted the story of Snow Hill Station, with (probably about 2/3 life-size) side elevations of a broad gauge flyer, Dean 2-2-2 and various 4-6-0’s plus some signals and valancing. These were inspired and of the highest quality. Really, stunningly, breathtakingly good, although to my young and un-appreciative eyes the cut-away cab sides which showed a convincing footplate rather marred the otherwise complete engines. One of the engines was a Saint- “Lady of Lynn” and I thought the name impossibly beautiful. The murals sat within the central drum of a roundabout, with the rotting timber valancing of the actual station as a backdrop and were accessed by rather menacing underground passageways. This whole area is now completely re-developed and all is changed. I believe (and fervently hope) that the mosaics survive buried for future archaeologists to discover. Their destruction would be criminal in the extreme. A smaller set of recent mosaics (by Budd’s son, I believe) show a reduced and diminished version- they are alright but simplified and un-inspired and, at best, a token. I only saw the other Kenneth Budd mosaics- those depicting President Kennedy’s visit to the city- on one occasion- my parents dismissed them as “too political”. I think these have gone too.

A bit more: I always felt fairly safe whilst exploring- although I never ventured into the tunnel to Moor Street or, strangely, explored the South signal box (a large and imposing, although soot-blackened and glass-less GWR one- the North box was very modern and on legs with a ladder up into its belly)- I just don’t think access to the South box was possible. I only had one incident there and that was when a mate and I set off along the track towards the tunnels to Hockley and as we approached the North box a gang of lads came down the ladder and surrounded us. These guys, from memory aged about 15 or so, looked hard and poor. The head honcho demanded inspection of the Beatties bags that we carried, having called in at the station after a visit to the New Street store and, positively pleading for a thorough bashing, I explained the contents (from memory some cardboard building kits and bags of lichen or some such) and our presence on his turf in words such as “We’re Railway Enthusiasts. It’s our hobby”. This cheery scamp repeated “Rail..way En…thoooo…siasts” and explained that we’d better be jolly careful as HIS hobby was mugging little boys. They had a splendid laugh at our obvious discomfort and turned and headed for the station and, much relieved, my chum and I continued towards the cutting and tunnels. I think I got the traditional clip around the ear the policeman failed to administer. We made our way eventually to Hockley (just platforms by then), found our way off railway premises via some torn chain-link fence or other and back to town through the Soho backstreets. I remember Snow Hill for its silence. There must have been a roar of traffic- possibly muted- but it has to have been there, along with parking cars and shoppers coming and going- but I don’t recall it. The silence especially noticeable in the cuttings heading north, where there were also the scents of Wormwood and Rosebay-Willowherb. These still trigger the old memories, especially when walking the dogs in the Napoleonic brick canyons of Dover’s Western Heights that, apart from the absence of rails, resemble the urban railway cuttings of Birmingham. I dream of the place occasionally still. The new station, which sits on the old footprint, is truly awful. The area had many other attractions, too- in truth, the station was usually a distraction on the way to or from the ultimate destination, which was a tiny model shop - one of two branches of Bearwood Models in the city - not far from the triangular prow of an ornate Victorian terracotta edifice at the bottom of Constitution Hill, (which contained, I think, Barbarella’s. Unfortunately I missed out here and never experienced this famous establishment as we moved away from Brum before I was old enough to try the city clubs).

Here's the next bit: For me, the highlight of all my explorations was Snow Hill station. This wonderful building, the pride of the GWR in the West Midlands when the rebuilt station was opened in 1912 and equipped with every modern facility, became something of a legend in its latter years due to its long decline and lingering death. Magnificent in scale and Gothic in its decay the place had an immense impact on me and I believe it did in many other people. Nicholas Whittaker describes a similar encounter with Snow Hill to one of my own, in his profound and treasured book “Platform Souls”. Like him, I “just wanted to look”. I have difficulty remembering my first encounter but I must have been eight or nine, which would have put the date at about 1971-2, not long after final closure but long enough for dereliction to have set in. I never knew the station in use so had no yardstick to measure it against, having no memories of Kings, Castles, Warships, Blue Pullman or DMU’s or any fond recollection of former glory. I never once tried to imagine the past- the crowded platforms, holiday-makers, departing Great War soldiers or even the last commuters. The nostalgia, profound and deeply ingrained at an impressionable age all comes from the awe which the sepulchral and massive place inspired and the absolute freedom to explore it. How we first encountered the place I can’t recall but I remember sitting with my legs dangling over the platform and listening to my mum read to me from “The Model Railway Men” by Ray Pope. There were rails in front of me- there was track in-situ in both bay platform roads and the road which ran around the western side of the station- pretty weed-grown but intact. The main lines through the middle had gone and this area was partially infilled and the haunt of Allegros, Mk III Cortinas and other workhorses of the time. Much of the infrastructure was there- running-in boards, water cranes, tannoys, all the ironwork including the concertina gates to the subway- partially ajar (I think I only went down there the once). The hotel had gone by this time, although the row of Carrara marble booking windows were there, later to be broken up. I suspect that we were drawn into the station out of curiosity whilst in town. This was the start of many visits over the next three years or so- accompanied at first and then solo or with a chum from school. This was at a time when Health and Safety had not yet become part of British culture and the huge building, labyrinthine, mouldering and inhabited only by pigeons and the homeless was totally unloved and one could wander about freely. This was also a time when child safety was still not obsessively pursued and I’m amazed at the freedom I had. After school- primary school, don’t forget- I could catch the bus from Rednal nine miles into town, cross the city through the museum quarter and into vast tracts of dereliction, through underpasses that must have been pretty scary places and enter a huge and rotting structure full of a wide variety of hazards. Death by falling, impalement, being trapped underground, Weil’s disease, rape and murder all perfectly possible and if anything had happened then, in the spirit of the time, it would have just been “unfortunate” and no parental blame would have fallen. Not that my parents weren’t caring- my mum would have been heart-broken if anything had happened- it was just how things were. But nothing did happen. I walked the platforms, scrunched through broken glass and waded through debris of all kinds in the refreshment rooms and offices. From memory there was so much for the taking- ironmongery, furniture and light fittings. I wish I’d been light-fingered and tooled up. Totems- well, possibly but I don’t remember them, although I do remember “Way out to Great Charles Street” and some of the lesser signs so they may have still been there. Challenged only once by authority- a constable confiscated the only souvenir I ever tried to pinch- an aluminium switch housing with big round green and red buttons that I’d taken from the North signal box- and let me go on my way!

Hi Leading on from the discussion in the Proceedings of the Catle Aching Parish Council 1905 I thought the ramblings below might be of interest. These are entirely my personal reflections on the 1970's Birmingham railway scene that I knew in my late childhood and early teens - a lot of text to wade through so probably best here in a separate new thread. No illustrations - I have no photos of my own, just the images in my head that I can't upload. There are many online though (The DJ Norton photo collection and some wonderful images of Snow Hill as it reached the bitter end, as well as the truly beautiful St Chad's Budd mosaics). All subject to copyright so I won't upload any. Ok - here's my attempt at some catharsis- I blurted the following out a couple of years back. I hope it's of interest! Here's the first bit: Memories of the Birmingham railway scene in the 1970’s Birmingham. The early 1970’s. What a mixture. The city centre a brutal concrete Brave New World- the post-war re-construction masterminded by Sir Herbert Manzoni well established by now and the destruction of Heritage Assets still being actively pursued. A time of political unrest, which seemed to be centred around the motor industry and the escalation of the Irish “troubles”, following the terrible IRA pub bombings at the Mulberry Bush and The Tavern In The Town, which cast such a pall over the city. Tucked away amongst the brash new civic spaces and in the outskirts there was some real quality (and in a few places there still is to this day). This was at a time when Conservation was readily dismissed and much was in decline and soon to be gone. This was not lost on my pre-teenage innocent mind and I recognized that some things were precious and not long for this world and, either through inherent nostalgia or their sheer presence they I saw these things for what they were and they stamped themselves indelibly on my mind. The transport systems in and around Brum were being slowly modernized at the time. When we first arrived in the city in 1970 there were very extensive remains of the long-vanished tramway system, including Bundy clocks at the termini, bits of inset track and, at Rednal, a huge, beautiful and complete cast iron shelter which extended for most of the way around the outside of the turning dumb-bell. Rednal was a major Edwardian destination for working Brummies looking for clean air and green hills and the terminus was extensive, ornate and intact. One day, soon after our arrival this was all just gone. Just a few more years and this would have all been Listed. The long row of post-war pre-fab houses that followed Bristol Road South to the terminus lasted a few years longer but these too have gone now, although there is a preserved one at the Avoncroft open air museum near Bromsgrove. I was too late for steam on the national railway system. It had died early within my lifetime, leaving me with nothing but the faintest memories. The related infrastructure was also disappearing rapidly as I began to become aware of railway heritage. However, aside from the nascent Severn Valley Railway, which we visited occasionally, and Tyseley (of which more later), I found to my delight that there were still some working steam locomotives in daily use very close to home. The Bristol Road ran right through the British Leyland works at Longbridge and crossed the internal railway system, which included a stub of the former jointly-run Midland and Great Western line to Halesowen and the Black Country. From the top deck of the 62 bus to town I could see a complex tangle of railway lines with a Midland signal box, lots of semaphore signals and, best of all, if I was lucky I could catch a glimpse of one of the two big Bagnall saddle tanks, sometimes with a train of bogie flat wagons loaded with new minis. “Victor” was the usual one to be seen- I think I only saw “Vulcan” once, if at all. As my burgeoning interest in railways grew and I started to explore, my radius expanded. I became repeatedly drawn to certain favourite spots- invariably just too late to see them in all their glory and usually first visited just as the demolition was taking place. We lived a short cycle ride from the Birmingham-Gloucester main line and I found Barnt Green station very early on. As usual, this was being “improved” and when I first went there the station buildings were just about to be demolished and were, in the spirit of the time, easy to explore. The polychrome brick structures soon disappeared and some bus shelters arrived, although the long Midland Railway footbridge survives to this day (but not for long, I fear). I spent many days at Barnt Green- I was never a spotter as such and only ever took down numbers very half-heartedly. I just loved to stand on the bridge whilst a Peak, class 40 or similar loco and 12 coaches roared underneath, making the foot boards rattle. I could just get my head above the capping rail and can see the slightly metallic grey paint now. Still the occasional maroon coach and (very) occasional green loco when I first visited and all the points and sidings were intact. This station was where the truncated single line cross-country route to Broom Junction and Evesham left the main line- only as far as Alvechurch and Redditch by then. I only travelled it once- in a DMU with a mate to see “Digby the biggest dog in the world” at Redditch cinema, which puts the journey at 1973. Alvechurch was, apart from the siding and headshunt, absolutely intact and in great condition. The weigh house, timber parcels office, polychrome brick waiting room and station house were all there and there was even a platform bench with MR in Olde English lettering incised on the back rest, and a Station Mistress lived in the station house. Redditch had been completely obliterated, however although after watching Jim Dale and Spike Milligan in Digby I waded through stinging nettles and water to the tunnel mouth at the southern end of the old station site. One lasting memory of these days was of eventually being seen and chased off by a neighbouring resident at Barnt Green, who took umbridge to the simple, innocent and probably lethal game that I played of flattening coins under the wheels of fast travelling diesel locomotives at the Birmingham end of the main line platforms. More to follow.....

Found another photo. Shows the side of one of the wagons. I live in hope!! I love the crack in the sky rather feebly disguised by the tree!

About 200cc's of Dalmatian digestive tract contents (rear outlet in today's case) has a HUGE coverage on a kitchen floor. Steam mop all calcified up. Hands and knees. Managed to knock Ecover floor soap over. Dalmatian disputed need to go outside for a while. Think all the shouting / barking / mopping finally over and I can get back to work. The Telly Savalas clip is abso-bloomin-lutely FANTASTIC! It has made my day and cheered me up beyond imagining. Thank you.

There is such a strong antipathy towards Birmingham these days - often spoken in jest but there's an obvious undercurrent of real dislike. I have mixed feelings about the place. I spent my formative years there, or rather within a bus ride of the city centre and left in 1976. I've only been back twice since and then only briefly. I think it's fair to say that 1970's Birmingham haunts me. That's a carefully considered statement. I could say that I had a love-hate relationship with the city then but it seems far too simplistic. Certainly a lot that I loved and hated (not in equal amounts - I think I loved far more than hated) has been obliterated - with the exception of Moor Street - and the city today leaves me numb. I had an hour or so of catharsis a year or so back and tried to bash out some of the thoughts, feelings and memories. I'll start a new thread, I think, rather than inflict it all on the members of the Parish Council. The best analysis I've been able to find about what makes the place tick and the transition from the place I knew to the city of today is "The Rotters' Club" by Jonathan Coe, and "The Closed Circle" and "Middle England", the other two books that complete the trilogy. They are all rather powerful. I'll bung all my ramblings elsewhere in a new thread. All the best J.

Then I thought I should try to cheer myself up a bit. Semaphore signals and Marmite on crumpets Clerestory coaches and bold brazen strumpets Indian motorbikes mended with string These are a few of my favourite things Old Manning Wardles, my wife’s rhubarb crumble Badgers and otters and new tins of Humbrol Sharp Stewart tenders with prominent springs These are a few of my favourite things Lost wax brass castings and other excesses Birmingham Dribblers and Tri-ang Princesses Kitmaster Stirlings, 3 rail Silver Kings These are a few of my favourite things When the dog s**s When the kids fight When I'm feeling sad I simply remember my favourite things And then I don't feel so bad.

I was hoping to get my conscience done on the NHS but fear I'll have to go private. I'm sure I'll be much happier without it. All this talk of modern day despots made me start listening to Roger Waters again.

This is truly gorgeous! What a delightful model.

...and to put the cab back together and hopefully pull it square. I found two pairs of non-matching buffers and was able to adapt one pair to resemble the other - not perfect but good enough. I've re-made the missing lower section of one of the cab steps. Matching paint for touching up the bald bits of cardboard will be interesting. Hopefully some progress over next weekend.