In a secluded corner of The Gricers Arms, in Combe Hay, a couple of well-to-do gents are sitting conspiratorially over their respective halves of bitter.
'I say, Ivo, I never thought that thing would fit through Combe Down Tunnel, what with those outside rods flailing around like that'..
'Hush, Norman, we've got to keep this to ourselves for now, don't want that Riley fellow muscling in on the act!'
'But what if he passes by and sees the Bentley parked up outside?' bleated Norman
'Don't worry, he's not about today, I sent him an anonymous postcard from Welshpool last week, which had a photograph of a Beyer Garratt on the front, he'll be chasing that thing around the Cambrian all week, if I'm not mistaken!'
'But the Garratt is being trialled over the Dorset on Friday!' exclaimed Norman
'Yes, rather a jolly wheeze, don't you think!' replied Ivo, 'Anyway, where would you like to get your next shot of that Dukedog? There's a good view from the fields opposite Midford Castle'.
'No, that's no good', replied Norman, ' that diagram works back to Bristol TM via Camerton. Let's try that road bridge near Engine Wood'.
'Fair enough then. And what about next weekend? Do you fancy a trip to Devon to see how the Blue Pullman gets on over the Devon Banks? My second cousin Martha Finching-Harbottle has offered to put us up in Glazebrook Manor'...