Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2023 18:31:18 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: Halls of Academia  Chapter 10

HALLS  OF  ACADEMIA
BY  JONAH

This is a work of fiction so be aware that every character herein is also
fictitious.  If you think you recognise yourself, or somebody else in here
- you don't. Some places, and some institutions in here are real, but the
people attached to those institutions in the story are not.  At least one
character is the creation of another author, Jacob Lion, in the USA.  My
thanks to Jacob for his permission to use his characters in my story.

This story is brought to you, at no charge, by Nifty.  Nifty does not
charge either me or you to publish this story, but if does cost money to
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Chapter ten

It was just gone five o' clock next morning when I quietly got dressed and
slipped downstairs.  I made myself a cup of tea and a couple of slices of
toast and Marmite then, picking up my overalls, cap and guards bag (which I
made do office for the footplate), I slipped quietly out of the house.

The drive to Weybourne took about twenty-five minutes and I parked up in
the shed yard.  I could see yellowish-brown smoke curling across the field
from the far end of the shed.

Climbing out of the car, I ditched my coat and pulled on my overalls.
Slipping my boots on my feet, my cap on my head and my bag on my shoulder,
I locked the car and made for the enginemen's lobby.

I checked the noticeboard.  In spite of Dick Flower's earlier joke about
"Wissington" there is no way they would roster such a small locomotive to
work a heavy passenger train.  Checking the board, I discovered that we
were due off shed at 0825, that my fireman was Stuart Costesey, and that we
had been allocated 76084 for the duty - a standard class 4 mogul, or a
"pocket rocket" as we sometimes called her.

Walking through the shed and out the other end, I found that 50% of the
smoke was being provided by the J15 while the pocket rocket provided the
rest.  I saw Ben Pigeon disappear underneath the J15 as I walked across to
my own engine.

We exchanged "Good Mornings" although he was lost to view.

Stu was on the rocket and building up a decent fire.  I glanced in the
firebox as he added a few more shovelsful.

"You're not going to black that in?" I aked, quite unnecessarily, I knew,
but just to let him know that I had looked."

"Should I ease off a bit?" he asked anxiously.

"Perhaps just a little.  Let it burn through.  You're doing fine."

Stu was a passed cleaner, so fairly new to firing.  he was, however, a good
lad and keen to learn.

"Thanks for doing that," I said, pointing to where three assorted oil
feeders were warming through on top of the firebox baffle plate.

"No worries," he replied.

"Hey, we're volunteers," I told him.  "We're supposed to enjoy doing this
and it's better if it's enjoyable for both of us.  A thing like that makes
a good start..  Now, my next job is to oil up and check everything and
yours is to get us some steam.  You've got two hours to do it and, if you
carry on as your doing now, you'll do fine."

I siezed a few rags, as cotton waste was in short supply, and slid down to
the ground.  Stu passed down the largest oil feeder and I used it to top up
my own small can.  I did not need to crawl underneath the loco as Ben had
done with his J15.  The loco that I'd been given was a doddle to oil up.
Its outside cylinders and valve gear, its high running plate and its light
frames meant that everything was accessible.  Mr. Ivatt and Mr. Riddles had
designed it to be easy to look after.

I started at the bottom of the driver's side steps and worked my way round
the entire locomotive.  There were a lot of lubricating points but many of
them were grouped together.  I noted that the valve gear on the driver's
side was set to make everything accessible too.  That meant that it would
be up in the air on the fireman's side.  I oiled round the front and then
walked down to his side of the cab.

"Can you set her for oiling?" I called up to him.

"I've never done it before."

"Ok," I told him.  "Put the steam brake on hard and wind the handbrake
off."

I waited while he did that.

"Now, what I want you to do next is to knock the clip off and wind her into
full forward gear, then put the clip back on.  Next you're going to take
off the steam brake and open the drain cocks, then pull the regulator
towards you in one steady movement so that only the pilot valve will open -
then slam it shut again.  When I shout, put the steam brake on hard, then
wind the handbrake back on and wind her back into mid gear.  Now, let's see
how well you've remembered that lot."

He performed the move perfectly, bringing the coupling rods down to the
botom and allowing me to oil the motion on that side.

By half past seven he had plenty of steam on the clock and there was a
light feather of steam that kept showing at the safety valves.  She
wouldn't take much bringing round when we needed to move.

"How many shovels have you put on the tender?"

"Two," He replied, "but I'm only using one for firing."

"Good lad.  Let's have the clean one then," I said as I fished the bread
buns and the rashers of bacon from my guard's bag.

A freshly cooked bacon bun each went down very well.  He even remembered to
knock off the blower so that our breakfast didn't go up the chimney.
Learning how to cook properly on a clean shovel is an important part of a
young fireman's training.

At quarter past eight we were ready to move, but still only the lightest
feather of steam showed at the safety valves.  He had carefully brought her
up so that she wasn't ready too soon.

I climbed off and walked across to the signalbox where I found Steve Fryer
in charge.

"Zero Mike Zero One ready when you are Steve," I reported.

He turned to his token instrument and offered a light engine to Sheringham
West.  Having got a token out, he put it in a token pouch and handed it to
me.

"There you go Simon," he said.  "See you later."

I walked back to the engine, which was now parked behind a clear signal.  I
knelt on my seat, since we were going tender first, and looked down.

"Steam brake on," I told Stu, meaning that he could wind off the handbrake.

"Handbrake off," he reported.  "OK this side driver."

That was important.  It would be too easy for a driver to set a locomotive
in motion just as a passing pedestrian put out a hand to steady himself on
the stationary machine.  A good driver checked for such things, and got his
fireman to check on his side of the locomotive too.

I reached up and tweaked the whistle handle (no strings or chains on these
standard locos).  Full back gear, cylinder drain cocks open, regulator
open, shut and open again to get the main valve open.

I saw Stu pick up his shovel and quickly shook my head.

"Your safety valves are only just shy of lifting," I told him.  "You might
even need to put on the other injector to condense some of it.  There's no
point in making more steam just so that you have to turn it back to water
again.  We've got twenty minutes in Sheringham.  You can fire her a bit
then."

He retired to his side of the cab and knelt on his seat - his head stuck
out of the window.  That was a plus.  He could see the side of the engine
that I couldn't

Eventually he called out,

"Distant on."

I noted the grin as he said it.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing."

"Has any driver ever bollocked you for calling that one out?" I queried,
then changed my mind.

"Never mind.  That wasn't a fair question.  Look, you and I both know that
a fixed distant is always going to be on, but you keep on calling it out
whatever any driver says to you.  Even if he already knows it's on, at
least you'll remind him where he is.  If his attention has wandered, You're
going to save your life and his by calling that out."

To Stu, of course, the words were mine, but I could remember them off by
heart, exactly as old Bob Turner had said them to me.  That's how
railwaymen learn.

I had brought the loco down to a crawl by the time we reached Sheringham
West signalbox, so that Stu could hand the token to the signalman.  We
dropped slowly into platform 1, where our train of maroon coaches awaited
us.

Fred Chalk was the guard and he stood on the platform watching Stu couple
us to his train.  After a while he walked up to the cab and said to me.

"Five on driver, all piped up and working.  No heat required."

"I think we're going to get some, none the less," I remarked.

Fred grinned.

"You could be right.  Vacuum when you're ready."

Stu had climbed back on board so I said,

"A little bit of sucuum for the guard Stu."

The ejector controls were both on my side of the cab, but that didn't mean
I had to keep a dog and bark myself.  Platform 1 was on Stuart's side of
the cab and I was contentedly watching the platform from there.

After the guard had conducted his brake test I retired to my own seat and
let Stu watch the platform.  Eventually the guard's whistle was heard and
Stu called out,

"Right away driver.  OK this side."

We were off.

Did I mention that this engine is a joy to drive?  Well it is.  Stu was
soon shovelling coal into the firebox.  I didn't stop him this time.  We
would soon need all the steam he could make.

The journey to Holt is not an easy one for a locomotive, nor a driver, nor
a fireman, but it's not difficult to work out which of the three ends up
with a wet shirt.  Still Stu was performing splendidly for a passed cleaner
out on the road on his own for the first time.

At Holt we got run round and were ready for the tender first run back to
Sheringham.

"Park youself over there for a bit," I told Stu.  "I'll look after your
fire."

We watched the needle drop back as the guard conducted his brake test.  I
stood behind Stu and watched the guard emerge from his van.  A flash of
green and a whistle.

"Right away driver," I told Stu, then dashed to the other side to stick my
head out and call, "Ok this side."

He soon got the brake off, wound her into back gear and opened the
regulator.

"Knock the drain cocks open as well Stu, or you'll damage a cylinder head."

He was kneeling on the seat now and watching along the side of the tender.
I saw him knock off the clip and wind the reverser back to less than 50%.
I'd have taken it back even further, but I said nothing.  He'd learn better
if I didn't keep interfering.

At Weybourne we found Ben's J15 waiting for us to get out of the way.  It
was on the move almost as soon as we stopped.  Steve must have completed
the most rapid token exchange in history.  I expect Ben's fireman had been
in the box waiting for it while Ben checked over the fire.  Ben had learned
from the same people that I had,.

The most nerve-racking bit for Stu was the final run into Sheringham, but I
still didn't take over.  I was ready to, if necessary, but I didn't let him
know that.  As we crawled into the platform, I looked over the side.

"Half a platform yet Stu.  Just give her a whiff of brake.  Now off again.
Quarter of a platform.  Be ready, when I tell you to, to blow your brakes
off.  An engine length, WHOAH!Brake off quickly," I said as we came to a
stand.

I was frantically screwing down the handbrake but we had glided smoothly to
a stand.

"You get a smoother stop if you can stop on a rising vacuum," I told him.
"You don't want that jar that makes all the passengers fall over at the
last second.  That was a good run.  Well done.  Now you just need to get us
unhooked while I get us a couple of cups of tea."

I stepped down onto the platform to be met by,

"Daddy!"

"Hello Lloyd," I greeted the little chap who looked as if all his
Christmasses came at once.

"Is it just you and him?" I asked Garret.

"Oh yes,"" he replied.  "Peter's at the Old Bailey in the morning so
they're off back to London.  They're going to move in with Jonah."

"I thought they might," I said.  "It's probably the best thing.  Are you
coming up on this one?"

"Yup!"

"Well do us a favour.  Put Lloyd on the engine and see if you can get an
exhausted footplate crew a couple of cups of tea."

"No problem," he said, lifting Lloyd onto the footplate.

Overall, Stu and I had a good day.  At four o'clock, we ran our last round
trip into platform 1 at Sheringham, crossed to platform 2 and ran light
engine to Weybourne where we were turned on shed.

The loco was equipped with a rocker grate so it was not difficult to drop
the fire over the ashpit, which Stu saw to while I returned the loco's
equipment to the stores.  I checked that the smokebox was clear of char -
which it almost was - and made out a report for the fitters.  A quick hose
down and sweep round in the cab, and the loco was, more or less, as we
would like to find her.  A shed crew volunteered to coal and water her.  By
half past five we were ready to go and I was back in Newton St Faith by
just after six o' clock, just in time for the dinner that Garret had cooked
(CAN you cook a salad?)

Little Lloyd was more excitable than ever.  It made Garret and I wonder.
Was it time to make plans to make the little fellow a permanent part of our
lives?