Article first published in the November 1998 issue of
Text and Photographs all © Copyright Andrew Ralph 1998
(Apologies for the quality of the pictures, but, as stated in the text, they were taken on a 110 camera, by a 14-year-old!)
It was the autumn of 1981, and my friend Mike and I were fourteen years old. We had just started the fourth year at school and most of our other friends were into football, pop music and girls. Neither of us were keen on football, and the pop music and girls could wait a few months. For us there was something far more important that would occupy our time and energy for the rest of the year - Deltics!
For the sake of somewhere to start, this story begins on Saturday the 17th of October 1981, the date of the Wessex Deltic railtour. It needs to be appreciated that at fourteen, Mike and I had one big problem, namely money, or the lack of it. Mike had a paper round, but I had to rely solely on pocket money, and train tickets are expensive things. Somehow, we had managed to scrape together the fare for the Wessex, and for both of us it was to be an exciting day because it was our first taste of Deltic haulage!
We arrived at Finsbury Park in good time, and eventually that glorious, unmistakable nose appeared in the distance, bringing the empty stock from Bound’s Green. I spotted the white window frames, and decided it had to be KOYLI approaching (that’s 55002 for the uninitiated), because by October the Finsbury Park white cabs had all gone, but number 2 in green still had the grey version. But no, it was Tulyar, with the Finsbury Park touch re-instated!
We scrambled aboard, and it was an especially exciting trip because as Southern Region boys, the train was going to our home territory. A Deltic at Clapham Junction was quite a sight to behold! The tour took us to Bournemouth, Eastleigh and Portsmouth Harbour, and it was there that we were initiated in another aspect of the hobby, now sadly neglected by most people, namely taking wax crayon rubbings of nameplates. We had plenty of time at the Pompey stop, so we crouched down by the side of the loco, took out our fanfold computer paper and black wax crayons, and away we went. It was surprising how few photographers there were who swore at us and threatened us with unspeakable things, when you consider how thoroughly annoying we must have been!
On the return leg, some people got on the train at Clapham Junction believing it to be a service train to Waterloo. I imagine they were rather angry when we set off across London, and quite furious when we were held at North Pole Junction for about an hour while control tried to find an Eastern Region guard to relieve the Southern Region one! This was before Eurostars were even a twinkle in Monsieur Mitterand’s eye, and North Pole Junction on a cold October night was not a very interesting place.
After that little excursion, finances restricted us to one return underground ticket from Morden to King’s Cross, half a 110 film and one black wax crayon each per week (it’s surprising how easy it is to drop them between the loco and the platform). So on Saturday the 24th of October we took our rations, spent the day at The Cross, and saw precisely one Deltic, namely The Durham Light Infantry which sat in the East Sidings by Platform 1 all morning before zigzagging across the station to Platform 8 to take the 14:03 to York, and another nameplate rubbing was in the bag. It was now half term, so we had to be even more sparing with our limited resources if we wanted to make several trips that week, so on Wednesday the 28th, we didn’t even allow ourselves the usual treat of a packet of American Hard Gums from the station buffet. We did, however, take a trip on a class 312 unit to Finsbury Park, a return trip which cost 20p in those days.
We had teemed up with a lad called Ben whom we had met on Platform 8, plus we had Mike’s cousin with us, so it was quite surprising how welcoming the staff at FP stabling point were to four teenage boys marching in armed with computer paper and cheap cameras. We found Deltic 16 inside the shed, and the staff just stood around open mouthed as we proceeded to do four rubbings of the huge Gordon Highlander nameplate!
Back at The Cross, we were thrilled to find number 10 just leaving, light engine, but not before we took a few photographs, although there was no time to get the crayons out.
On the Friday we heard on the grapevine that Ballymoss had been the latest withdrawal victim and was at Stratford. So we pooled our pennies and bought a couple of tickets on the Central Line, and off we went, creeping through the pedestrian tunnel from the station to the depot. And there she was, Deltic 18, looking magnificent despite the huge rust patch where the nameplate wasn’t. It was at this point that we discovered that number rubbings are also possible! We also discovered that the cab was open, and as there was no-one around, we climbed aboard for a minute to pay our last respects. It turned out that Pinza was at Stratford too, having just received a power unit transplant, Ballymoss being the donor. However, it seemed that Pinza was going to reject it, and while we were there, number 4 arrived behind a 47 ready to be an alternative donor. To be honest, at that stage in the Deltics’ lives, it was a fairly futile task, because they were all as knackered as each other! Pinza and Queen’s Own Highlander did, however, have their nameplates intact, but trying to do a rubbing of the latter (surely one of the longest Deltic nameplates) without the benefit of a platform, proved impossible, so number rubbings had to suffice.
On Saturday the 31st of October, KOYLI was at King’s Cross with the Celtic Deltic railtour, but there were so many photographers that name rubbings were out of the question. There was only so much abuse we could take!
Saturday the 7th of November proved hopeless for Deltics at King’s Cross - even the 14:03 to York had a 47 on. We did, however, find The Black Watch and Gordon Highlander at The Park, and we were able to add to our list of ‘cabbed’ Deltics, which we referred to as our ‘cabbage’ list.
The following Saturday, Mike brought a tatty old cassette recorder with him, and we added sound recordings of Deltics to our methods of committing the magic machines to memory. And what a superb noise Pinza made that day as she left King’s Cross for York at 14:03 (perhaps it was 55004’s donor organ in action).
By the 21st of November, we had managed to save up a bit more money, and we decided that it was about time we travelled on a Deltic-hauled service train. For me, it involved a serious decision as to whether I should buy a present for my Dad’s birthday (which was the next day) or a return ticket to Peterborough on the 14:03 departure. After much soul-searching it was "Sorry Dad," - I’m sure he understood! We bought the tickets before we knew whether a class 55 would actually appear, but our gamble paid off when The King’s Own Scottish Borderer appeared from the Gasworks Tunnel and coupled up to the empty stock on platform 8.
By this stage in number 10’s life, she only carried one nameplate, but fortunately for us it was on the platform side, and Mike and I received quite a lot of abuse from the large band of photographers as we took two rubbings of the large nameplate. I’m sure some of the things they suggested aren’t physically possible! Anyway, it was worth it, because that was some trip to Peterborough, and the recording of 55010 in the gasworks tunnel was quite something. It also remains my only ever Deltic haulage on a service train.
The following week, there was a 47 on the 14:03 to York, but The Green Howards was on the 16:03, still carrying it’s regimental crest. Attempting a rubbing of that was an interesting failure. Meanwhile, across at Paddington, Royal Scots Grey was on the Deltic Venturer, carrying the most ridiculous headboard ever carried by a Deltic.
It was now December, and the Deltics had one month left. On Saturday the 5th it was the turn of Argyll & Sutherland Highlander to pull the 14:03, but we did not have enough paper left for such a mega-nameplate! It also meant that we were unable to get a rubbing of KOYLI, which was in the shed at Finsbury Park. We did, however, add the green machine to our cabbage list, and on a cold December day that cab was really warm, and Mike and I sat there for over half an hour, taking turns in the driver’s and second man’s seats, thawing out.
By Saturday the 12th of December, there was snow on the ground, but nothing would stop Gordon Highlander on the 14:03. This was long before the ‘wrong kind of snow’ caused problems with the Deltics’ modern-day electric successors! At Finsbury Park we found 55013 and 55019, and the latter was added to our collection of rubbings and our cabbage list. Number 19 was in the yard, so we had to reach at full stretch to do the Royal Highland Fusilier nameplate, and we discovered that it is impossible to hold a wax crayon with gloves on. It was quite surprising that our fingers didn’t drop off into the snow, they were so cold. Such sacrifices we went through for Class 55s that Autumn!
Having neglected my father’s birthday, I was forced to buy Christmas presents in quantity, and this meant no more trips up the Northern Line until New Year’s Eve, and what a funereal day that was. 55008 was supposed to take the last Deltic hauled 14:03, but failed with flat batteries, so the train was pulled by a 47. 
We travelled up to FP, and found four Deltics, namely 8, 9, 13 and 17. The Green Howards and The Black Watch were looking distinctly ill, and Number 17 was in the yard, filthy, but ready to take the 16:03. Alycidon was in the shed being cleaned for her star performance two days later.
Back at King’s Cross later that afternoon, The Durham light Infantry turned up, bedecked with headboards, and departed in front of TV cameras (which prevented the rest of us from getting anywhere near), with the 16:03 to York, and that was that. It was the end of an unforgettable era, and for Mike and me, an unforgettable two and a half months. We travelled on the Deltic Scotsman Farewell on January the 2nd, but somehow that day seemed to have little to do with what had gone before.
Since number 22 has come back to life, I have yet to see her at King’s Cross, but I know that it will never quite have the excitement of those incredible days in 1981.
So as Mike and I returned to school in 1982, all that we had to return to was the pop music and the girls. At least we had a new chat-up line: D’you want to come up and see my Deltic nameplate rubbings?!
