The Big Grind
Rolling the story forward a decade and a bit. I now part own over 600 tonnes of railway hardware. Different locomotives and other rolling stock are stored, operated, or under repair at a range of different railway centres around the UK.
Just before this summer got into full swing, I attended a working party to advance the repair of one of the locos. On arrival I found the working party consisted of me, and a young chap we’ll call Steve. Two of us, so much for a working party!
We set to work on the bodyside that needed rubbing down where some over enthusiastic soul had used filler like he had shares in the company. In places it looked like the Wallace and Gromit film set of the moon; all jagged lumps and nodules set on an undulating background. Nothing like the smooth, contour free base our painters insist on working with!
So, set up with power sanders, spare sand paper, overalls, goggles, and dust masks (you have to keep the Health and Safety man happy even on preserved railways), we set to work at opposite ends of the same side of the loco (around 12 metres apart).
Two hours later when we stopped for a break and a cup of tea, my arms and back ached, my head was thumping, my mask was just a sodden mess from my heavy breathing, and I had progressed around half a metre from my start position. Steve on the other hand had made a metre’s worth of progress, still looked bright as a daisy, and rushed off to collect water to make tea. I just settled groaning into a plastic chair in the mess room next to the yard.
Twenty minutes later, refreshed and ready to go again, we reconvene with fresh dust masks. After another hour I have progressed a whole metre (getting better with practice!). Steve has progressed more too, a whole three meters more, so he has only another two metres to finish his half!
At lunch I start suggesting that the Rail Preservation Anti-Doping Agency will be round for a sample later. However Steve has the last laugh as I find that during lunch my joints have locked up, and it takes a huge effort to straighten me up again!
During the afternoon the railway’s Perminant Way (PW, track and infrastructure repair) team turned up and started working on removing chairs from old sleepers for reuse or recycling. They appear to run on tea, (I’m convinced that if they reduced the interval between brews any further it would be more efficient to provide it intravenously…..) and when they sounded the tea’s up klaxon we had completed another metre and half of bodyside. Steve had finished just over a metre….
An hour later Steve was working on my half and clocking up the pints I owed him. I was by now a ball of sweat, it was dripping off me in gallons, not helped by the sun that had burnt of the clouds and cycled round to provide us with perfect illumination. My completed areas started to show up numerous imperfections. Where as Steve’s bit was dead straight and even. As the afternoon wore on my arms turned to jelly, and I found I could only just raise the sander above waist height (I’m sure it got heavier through the day).
By sundown the job was finished, and Steve and I retired to the pub via the washrooms. Once settled in at the Wheel Tappers Arms, Steve was making good progress through my debt, when Andy, the group’s technical officer turned up. He listened to our story without comment, and then helpfully suggested that Steve might want to consider his liver, and take his earnings over a few days.
When he was about to leave he produced a new power sander from his bag, “I knew that old one was useless so I bought this replacement last week. My misses changed my plans for today and sent me shopping, so I couldn’t bring it down this morning” With that he dropped it on the table and legged it.
Steve burst out laughing, finished his pint and then left to go clubbing. I eventually finished my re-hydration therapy (orange juice and lemonade) and made my weary way home.
Remind me, why do I do this?
Just before this summer got into full swing, I attended a working party to advance the repair of one of the locos. On arrival I found the working party consisted of me, and a young chap we’ll call Steve. Two of us, so much for a working party!
We set to work on the bodyside that needed rubbing down where some over enthusiastic soul had used filler like he had shares in the company. In places it looked like the Wallace and Gromit film set of the moon; all jagged lumps and nodules set on an undulating background. Nothing like the smooth, contour free base our painters insist on working with!
So, set up with power sanders, spare sand paper, overalls, goggles, and dust masks (you have to keep the Health and Safety man happy even on preserved railways), we set to work at opposite ends of the same side of the loco (around 12 metres apart).
Two hours later when we stopped for a break and a cup of tea, my arms and back ached, my head was thumping, my mask was just a sodden mess from my heavy breathing, and I had progressed around half a metre from my start position. Steve on the other hand had made a metre’s worth of progress, still looked bright as a daisy, and rushed off to collect water to make tea. I just settled groaning into a plastic chair in the mess room next to the yard.
Twenty minutes later, refreshed and ready to go again, we reconvene with fresh dust masks. After another hour I have progressed a whole metre (getting better with practice!). Steve has progressed more too, a whole three meters more, so he has only another two metres to finish his half!
At lunch I start suggesting that the Rail Preservation Anti-Doping Agency will be round for a sample later. However Steve has the last laugh as I find that during lunch my joints have locked up, and it takes a huge effort to straighten me up again!
During the afternoon the railway’s Perminant Way (PW, track and infrastructure repair) team turned up and started working on removing chairs from old sleepers for reuse or recycling. They appear to run on tea, (I’m convinced that if they reduced the interval between brews any further it would be more efficient to provide it intravenously…..) and when they sounded the tea’s up klaxon we had completed another metre and half of bodyside. Steve had finished just over a metre….
An hour later Steve was working on my half and clocking up the pints I owed him. I was by now a ball of sweat, it was dripping off me in gallons, not helped by the sun that had burnt of the clouds and cycled round to provide us with perfect illumination. My completed areas started to show up numerous imperfections. Where as Steve’s bit was dead straight and even. As the afternoon wore on my arms turned to jelly, and I found I could only just raise the sander above waist height (I’m sure it got heavier through the day).
By sundown the job was finished, and Steve and I retired to the pub via the washrooms. Once settled in at the Wheel Tappers Arms, Steve was making good progress through my debt, when Andy, the group’s technical officer turned up. He listened to our story without comment, and then helpfully suggested that Steve might want to consider his liver, and take his earnings over a few days.
When he was about to leave he produced a new power sander from his bag, “I knew that old one was useless so I bought this replacement last week. My misses changed my plans for today and sent me shopping, so I couldn’t bring it down this morning” With that he dropped it on the table and legged it.
Steve burst out laughing, finished his pint and then left to go clubbing. I eventually finished my re-hydration therapy (orange juice and lemonade) and made my weary way home.
Remind me, why do I do this?
posted by TonyB at 1:32 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home