Date: Mon, 11 Mar 2024 09:20:54 +0000
From: Jonah
Subject: Of sea and sand  chapter 10

Of Sea and Sand
by Jonah

Simon and Garret are here again,looking after their young family.If you are
unfamiliar with this family,we first met Simon in 'A Letter from America'
back in 2019. He was a teenager then,now he is well into adulthood. Garret
originated in another author's story. I want to thank Jacob Lion, in the
USA for his permission to use his characters in my story. That's one of the
things I want to make plain,all the characters in this,and all my other
stories are wholly fictitious.  They aren't based on real people. The other
thing I want to make plain is that, while Simon and Garret are both gay, as
are some other characters, this is a story about love - not sex,lust,or any
other substitute,but real Christian love. If it's pornography you want,
you'll have to find it somewhere else. Lastly,this story is brought to you
by Nifty,free of charge. Nifty doesn't charge me to publish it, nor you to
read it,but it does cost money to bring it to you. Please consider donating
to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/ so that these stories continue to be
available for all to read.

Chapter 10

It rained well into the night but Wednesday morning came round bright and
sunny. Our continental breakfast was followed by another visit to Margate
railway station. Even Grev seemed to have got the trainspotting bug after
yesterday. In truth,he had not so much got the bug for trainspotting as for
Lloyd. He had spent so much time with him that ... well,let's put it this
way,I love the boy so I don't find it surprising that somebody else could.

Since Grev was spending so much time with Lloyd, we naturally fell into the
same pairings as we had on Tuesday. Philip hung onto Garret's coat-tails
while Barry attached himself to me.  Normally I would have thought nothing
more natural than for the boys to hang out together leaving the adults to
do adult things but, on this occasion at least, they seemed determined to
keep us involved in their activities and had split up for the purpose.

Barry, theoretically the oldest of the three, even if only by two months,
was often inseparable from me anyway. We had our passion for steam in
common, and he was not an unprepossessing boy anyway. I don't mean as far
as physical attraction went. I may be gay,but I'm no pervert. If I had been
I would probably have fixated on Philip, but I wasn't,so I didn't. No, I
mean that the boy was intelligent, interesting to converse with,considerate
and kind. None of our boys need persuading to go to Church, but Barry seems
most receptive to what he learns there, and most likely to challenge it
too. If you are going to debate religion, or anything else, with this
eleven year old, you have to have your wits about you.

"Is this automatic signalling?"  he said suddenly.

"No,I don't think so. There are automatic signals, but the ones you can see
from here are controlled."

"So where are they controlled from?"

"Ashford, I think, but don't quote me on it. Network Rail are controlling
most of their signalling from Regonal Operating Centres now, so It could be
anywhere."

"It must be hard controlling such a big area."

"No,not really.  You can buy computer games that let you try it for
yourself. Lots of people practice it who aren't signalmen. In any case,
there is a system called SARS which will let the computer run the
timetable. The signalman only needs to take over when he notices that the
timetable isn't working"

"What do you mean not working?"

"Well, sometimes there are things that the computer isn't programmed to
account for.  A few years ago two very long freight trains approached each
other in opposite directions on a bi-directional bit of line.  The computer
kept them both moving by routing one of them through a loop.  It hadn't
taken into account the length of the trains and they each came to a stand
at the red signal that was protecting the back end of the other
train. Neither could move until the other had gone. The signalman should
have checked the lengths of the trains, switched off SARS and stopped one
of the trains before it got to the bi-directional line. By the time he
noticed what was happening,it was too late. The Bi-Di line was part of the
approach to a busy station so it caused chaos and took hours to sort out."

"You couldn't really sort it out.  Neither train could move and you'd need
an assisting engine."

Woah! I had to remind myself that this was an eleven year old talking.

"What would the assisting engine do?"

He didn't even hesitate.

"Uncouple enough of the back end of one of the trains to clear the points
and take it to where it can be shunted clear, then the other train can
run. He can't really put the train back together again though, so he'll
need to run round it and run it as a separate train."

Now that last bit I might have expected from Lloyd, who was the railway
operator of the family, but Barry hadn't used his railway experience. He
had used his brains. I used mine - or tried to.

"With an engine on the back the whole train could just have set back
completely clear of the bi-directional line."

"How are they going to clear the main line behind it?"

I had to admit that I was beaten. You needed to get up very early to
outsmart Barry.

We lunched in the station buffet and made plans for the afternoon.

The plans consisted of Dreamland.

None of us really knew what Dreamland was, but we could hardly have failed
to notice it. The building is huge and dominates the foreshore.  The word
DREAMLAND fixed vertically,dominated the street. It would be unthinkable to
holiday in Margate and not visit Dreamland.

We soon found out. Behind the huge building is a theme park - and what a
theme park. Free admission was a surprise,though they charge for rides. I
still had my shadow. Most of the rides had a minimum height limit, so it
was preferable to have an adult accompanying each child.  When I say
'preferable', I'm failing to mention from whose point of view. It should be
mentioned that two of these rides are roller coasters, and a waltzer is not
necessarily a good thing just after lunch.  Barry and I had to try the
ghost train. Now that's just a train ride in the dark right?  We had our
own Emmet lines locomotive and set off into the dark.  The locomotives
enter separately at a short distance from each other so you don't actually
see the others.  Because the female of the species is apt to vent its
perceived terror by screaming, you do hear the others though, and a
screaming girl does tend to turn one's stomach. The ghastly luminescent
skeletons don't unsettle one so much as the cobwebs that brush one's
face. I'm well aware that the cobwebs are hessian, but awareness doesn't
help.  Cackling laughter doesn't either. Now, I might not be a pervert, but
I felt strangely warmed by Barry clinging tight to me.  He denied that as
soon as we stepped off at the end though.  He was of course, clinging to me
in case I felt afraid.

"So where next then?"

"Jets."

"I don't have a pilot's licence."

"Jets."

"Jets," I repeated with feeling.

We selected our hurricane jet and took to the air, to the extent that the
arm on the machine would let us.  Up we went and round we went.  Once we
were up to speed we went down and up as well. I concentrated on ensuring,
so far as I was able, that my lunch went down when we went down and up when
we went up. I couldn't tell whether Barry was as pleased as I was when our
velocity slackened and the centrifugal force began to let up.  As we lost
height and came in for the perfect landing, I let myself breathe again.

"Cool!" said Barry.

Well that answered that question.

To prevent Barry from dragging us to one of the roller coasters, or worse,
the waltzer, I steered him to the huge Ferris wheel. We took to the air
again and, from the top, we got a stunning view over Margate.  From halfway
down again, I spotted Lloyd taking Grev on the ghost train.  I'd have liked
to be a fly on the wall for that ride.  I thought of the cobwebs.  Perhaps
not a fly.

The wheel got up to speed, which seemed faster than it really was, and then
slowed as it began unloading.  At the bottom, I surrendered our chair to
Garret and Philip.

"I'll meet you here when you get off," I told Garret. "We don't want to be
late for dinner."

That said, Barry and I headed for the ghost train to wait for the other
two.

We were soon gathered up and headed for Ethelbert Road.

Mrs Kesteven's dinners were a source of universal admiration and belly pork
with apple sauce, mash and greens didn't disappoint anyone.  Individual
creme caramels served up for dessert went down well too.

"It's a reet nice evening," observed Mr Stockdale.

I concurred.

"Too good for staying in," I told him.

"Well, ah'm off down t' Britannia if you want to come," he replied.  "It's
got a beer garden for t' kids."

"Sounds good, " I replied.  "I'll check with Garret and Grev."

"Aye, an' I'll check wi' Rob and Sharon," he responded.

Sharon preferred to take the children for a walk so it was just eight of us
that set off for the Britannia's beer garden.  It was a warm night - just
perfect for sitting outdoors, nursing a pint of Best Bitter.

Amusements had been provided for smaller children but our boys preferred to
sit with us and sip their squash.

"Do you still live in Yorkshire Les?" Garret asked, presumably to make
conversation.

"Nay lad - Leicester" Mr. Stockdale replied.  "I was born and bred in
Slaithwaite, just outside Huddersfield, but I took up a job in
Leicestershire and met my Irma there.  Thirty-eight years we were married
before I lost her to breast cancer.  We never had any kids."

"What did you do,"

"I was on t' railway lad.  Started as a porter at Sowerby Bridge -
Assistant Area Manager I finished up as."

I could see a number of ears pricking up.

"I drive an engine," said Lloyd.

"Oh aye Lad?" said Mr Stockdale politely.

"A five inch guage one.  We've got a railway in the garden," I explained.

"Just the one engine like?"

"Well we've got a J69 tank, but Lloyd mostly drives a battery Baby Deltic."

"Pity the real ones didn't run on batteries.  We had one at Derby.  It used
to work test trains.  It were last one mind.  T' others were all cut up -
at Kettering I reckon."

"Did you see them?"  Lloyd wanted to know.

"Nay lad.  Before my time.  They'd stopped cutting up engines at Kettering
by the time I went to Leicester.  I saw the one at Derby though."

"Do you want a drink our Sharon?" said Rob suddenly.

A glance over my shoulder confirmed that the rest of the family had indeed
arrived.

"Rum and black please Rob," said Sharon sitting herself at the next
table. "You're going to have to push me in the pushchair."  Rob got up and
went to the bar.

Lloyd and Philip were soon occupied in supervising the twins - or the twins
were occupied in supervising Lloyd and Philip.  Crystal stayed in her
pushchair and sucked on a bottle that Sharon produced for her.  All the
kids seemed happy enough, which made for happy adults.

The happiest of the kids seemed to be Barry, who wasn't going to be
separated from Mr. Stockdale until he had absorbed every ounce of railway
knowledge and experience. You see, Barry wasn't really a trainspotter. He
was a railway enthusiast and he had to know everything.  I could see him
finding a job on the railway when he was older.  The poor man had to
recount most of his life's history - though he didn't appear to mind.

All twelve of us set out for the digs just before closing time.  It wasn't
quite dark, but nearly. I don't think anybody had difficulty sleeping.

Thursday was a beautiful morning and we were off to the station in the
morning.  Barry may not have been a spotter, but he never minded being
around trains and was anxious to learn everything.

"How come industrial engines were always tank engines?"

"Because of the heavy work they had to do," I told him.  "A tender engine
would slip with a really heavy load of coal or iron ore on some of the
slopes that they have in quarries or coal mines."

"So why don't tank engines?"

"They're heavier so they grip the rails better."

"Ring Haw isn't heavier than Pocket Rocket."

"If you fill Ring Haw's tank right up with water, and her bunker with coal,
she's heavier than Pocket Rocket would be if you took her tender off."

"Why'd you take her tender off?"

"Because it doesn't pull trains - Pocket Rocket has to pull it. With Ring
Haw the weight of all that coal and water is on top of her driving wheels -
it's adhesion weight.  With a tender engine, it's dead weight."

There was a lot of this sort of conversation before lunchtime.

In the afternoon we visited the Margate Caves.  The Kent coast isn't short
of caves, but these ones include caverns lined with mosaics of sea-shells.
Our boys found them fascinating - so fascinating that they all wanted to
spend Friday collecting shells so that they could practice mosaic-making.
I suggested that they'd be better collecting them on the beach at
Sheringham, where they wouldn't have such a long way to take them home.

It clouded over again in the late afternoon so, after dinner we stayed in
our digs.  Barry and Mr. Stockdale were in deep discussion, while the other
boys kept the twins out of mschief - well almost out of it.  Mrs.Kesteven
had the television on again so the adults mostly watched that.