Health and Safety

Lots of chatter about this recently, particularly on the Preserved Diesels Forum (a great facility, which is five years old this month). Now the froth is settling, lets look at the whole issue dispassionately. However as I am not a H&S specialist please don’t consider any of this as advice or criticism.

As I understand it, the current H&S rules apply anywhere in the UK except in the resident’s own home. So they apply in all public spaces, at work (the rules still apply whether you get paid for it or not), and in someone else’s home. The only loop hole I can see is that if you are lucky enough to work on your own in a railway workshop that is part of your home. They would however apply to anyone who doesn’t live there working with you.

No one wants an accident to occur and no one in their right mind would plan to undertake a job where the risks of an accident were known to be high. However through ignorance of the risks many people think activities are completely safe when they are not. In the railway preservation world people from all walks of life get involved (brilliant, this is to be encouraged), and in many cases this is the first time they have set eyes on many of the tools they are about to use. Consequently they have no basis on which to assess risk, and frequently end up learning the hard way.

I know of two incidents that illustrate this from my railway preservation experience:
1) A bank clerk was given the task of washing out a set of paint brushes. This he completed, but left the top off the tin he’d filled with white spirit on the work bench. A hospital porter had a rusty hinge to repaint, so he had set it in the vice on the same bench and set to work with a grinder. The sparks from the grinder set the fluid in the can alight. Fortunately no real damage done.

On enquiry, neither had considered the use another might put the same work space to. The porter hadn’t checked what else was on the bench before he’d started and the bank clerk wasn’t aware that white spirit was flammable.

However before you start writing both off as idiots, both understood the importance of segregation of work areas from their employment. The porter knew about isolation ward procedures and which medicinal chemicals could be carried together and which needed to be kept apart, both in transit and storage. The clerk knew how to keep segregation of monies and understood why the best practice approach would prevent confusion and potential damage his employers reputation.

2) A group was trying to get their diesel loco started, but it just wouldn’t take. Eventually the freshly charged batteries were flat. So they rigged up jump start from another loco using some wire they found in the yard. The distance between the locos was around 20 feet across a road access, and the cables were around 40 feet long, so they coiled the cables down and put a rubber mat over them to remove a trip hazard.

When they tried to start the errant loco, the cables between the engines thrashed around like live snakes tied at head and tail. The rubber mat was sent hurtling through the air and landed on the roof of a workshop building. Within 10 seconds one cable fell apart through metal fatigue, and the free-end smashed a shed a window before coming to rest.

No one was hurt but a few were quite shocked.

The group involved included a number of quite well respected professional railway engineers, but they were mechanical specialists and had not understood the action of high levels of DC current (amps) passing in adjacent cables that were not securely clamped down. The fact that they had picked a pair of welding cables up from scavenging around the yard was both fortunate and unfortunate. Fortunate, in as much as although not fully rated for the current being passed, it was at least capable for the relatively short term it was exposed to. Unfortunate, as they are highly flexible, and the magnetic fields generated by the current sent the cables unwinding at a huge rate of knots. If they had not fallen apart through fatigue and had melted (fuse like), through overload, other serious side effects could have occurred.

So in both cases mistakes were made through ignorance. But ignorance that could have been overcome through a bit of thought by the individuals concerned, and consultation with other people within both organisations. As we have just seen, even a group of seasoned professional railway engineers didn’t know everything there is to know about the work being undertaken, so I think it is safe to assume that no one can have all the knowledge they need to undertake every task safely.

I will point out the incident 1 was with a group I am directly involved with and 2 was with a group I was not involved with, but shared a facility with over 10 years ago.

Education is part of the answer. New volunteers need to be mentored, that is to work with more experienced people until they can be trusted to be let loose on their own. The point they realise their own limitations and you can trust them to come and ask for guidance is the time you can let them work less supervised.

Another part of the answer is to consider the risks in an open way with your fellow preservationists before starting work (especially if the task is a new one to you and your group). There is a huge wealth of experience out there and most people who work on one type of loco will gladly advise another even for the price of pint, or some other returned favour. Apart from the most serious of tasks, formal risk assessments are not probably not necessary (but can be demanded by the HSE, or even your host railway’s safety officer), common sense can be applied, but the discipline of thinking the issues through and get a range of opinions before work starts can only be a good thing.

Why is this important?

To answer that I’m going to be totally selfish:

From time to time all preservation groups need to undertake work that has by its very nature built in risks. Predominantly but by no means uniquely, these involve powered machinery or lifting equipment. If we do the work using sensible precautions (learned from the professionals in that field) we will be left alone by the HSE. If we don’t, and a number of accidents occur or even just one serious injury results from carelessness (or recklessness), then the HSE will start to take a great deal of interest in our activities. This will mean we will;
a) spend far more time on paperwork and much less on the work that really matters. Result; slower restoration.
b) in some cases we will be forced to get in professional help, as the HSE will prevent certain types of activities. Result; costlier restoration.
Both of the above will put off new recruits joining in with railway preservation activities and seriously frustrate the rest of us.

In addition I don’t want someone else’s lack of thinking resulting in me getting injured (or worse). Neither do I want that injury to be on their conscience for the rest of their lives. There, I told you I was going to be self centred about it!

H&S is everybody’s responsibility, and a lot of the work we do requires everyone to be sensible. If any one group isn’t sensible and an accident happens, we will all end up loosing a freedom and I fear we will end up having to pay professionals at full rates to do that job for us. Taking money we can ill afford away from our hobby to pay their salaries and let them make a profit.

In, Out, In, Out.

No, not a reminder to breath! But a simple saga:

One of the locos had been operating with a fault ever since a major overhaul had been completed. At the time the pressure was on to use the loco for a gala so the errant system was isolated and as she was driven carefully, all was well. But she couldn’t stay like that, so a few weeks later Shaun and I were tasked with replacing one of the regulator modules to see if that cured the fault.

A freshly overhauled regulator module was duly dispatched from our stores (a suite of high class containers which sit gently rusting in a farmers field miles from anywhere) and arrived bound up in industrial cling film.

Now the regulator module is mounted under the section of roof that isn’t removable, it fits a hole just too small to allow finger (or tool) room to disconnect the wiring and pipework, and although you can get at both sides of it, it is mounted just too low for it to be lifted cleanly out of the cubicle.

It also weighs nearly 30Kg and therefore requires two people to lift it.

Shaun set to work dismantling the equipment around the regulator, while I started drawing a diagram of which cable went to which stud before removing the cables themselves.

40 minutes later we were able to edge the unit out of its resting place and by use of couple of handy lumps of timber, lift it out into the corridor. We tried manhandling it trough the nearest cab door. But after twisting it this way and that we found that whatever angle it was in, it wouldn’t go through.

At this point we put it on the floor and went for a mug of tea.

During the break it dawned on us that there was another route to the outside world, through another door at the other end of loco, but this was only accessible through the labyrinth that is the inside of the locomotive (All modern i.e. non-steam locos are like this. The class 71 is a notable exception to this rule, as it is beautifully uncluttered internally . . . I digress). After a debate of several minutes we elected to try that route instead.

Initially we lifted the regulator over the clean air intake frame, and past the brake compressor control gear and vacuum exhauster. This allowed us to place the regulator on the floor and relieve our arms. Next we negotiated the main generator and lifted it over the oil filters alongside the power unit, carefully twisted the unit so it didn’t hit the overspeed switch. Then after another rest using the floor plates under the governor to take the weight of the unit, we carefully manhandled it (tautology alert!) under the governor, through the radiator compartment door, and straight through the door in to the No 1 end cab. The whole exercise took over thirty minutes to traverse the 12 metres or so from one cab door to the other. But the regulator was out of the engine room.

From here to the ground was easy, with two extra strong fellows from the crew of the steam loco who’d come down the yard for a breather between service trains. They also helped get the other regulator into the cab. Thanks guys.

As the Haynes manual says, reassembly is the reverse of disassembly, and a two hours later the new regulator was in place. Hurray! Job done.

Our instructions were to phone Tim when we got to this point. Tim is one of a small number of the team passed out as driver on the railway. On arrival he undertook the static duties (inspections and check prior to using a locomotive), started the loco, let the air pressure build up to the prerequisite level, selected forward, selected notch 1 for power, and off we went down the yard. Ok so far.

Having stopped the loco we de-isolated the regulator system. Selected forward, plus notch 1 again and nothing happened…. The fault was still present. Ahhhhh!

A few phone calls to other members of the engineering team and we were advised to replace the regulator again with the original, and try again.

So, with reservations we removed the new regulator, wriggled it through the loco, lifted it to the floor, picked up the old one, and bought it back through the engine-room with increasing numbers of rest periods to let the blood flow back into our arms and calm the complaining muscles. Two hours later it was getting dark as we finished making up the connections by torchlight.

Tim ran the test again. No change. Well, we hadn’t expected one!

A pint sounded nice, and so we abandoned the job, disposed of the locomotive (performed the shut down routines) and made our way to The Wheel Tappers Arms.

The following morning Dzus (who’s real name is Simon), arrived with some specialist electrical test equipment. He and Tim spent the morning trying to test run the loco, for each test they put monitoring equipment on different parts of the regulator circuit. As time progressed they started looking increasing puzzled and there was a gentle rise in the volume and quality of the swearing.

While this was going on Shaun and I started on the job of replacing the filters in the body side air intakes. Not a heavy job, but very dusty if you don’t manage to trap the dust in the filter as you remove it to the rubbish bag.

Eventually a very sheepish looking Dzus appeared and started checking the cable identities on the brake frame. He quickly found one and swapped it for its neighbour the other side of a relay coil. Ten minutes later with the regulator in service the loco was moving off down the yard under its own power.

After much probing, Shaun and I got them to admit that when the overhaul was nearing completion Tim and Dzus had wired it up wrong.

Now it was fixed, Tim asked if Shaun and I could replace the regulator with the new one so the old one could go for overhaul. We advised them that after yesterday’s performance we wouldn’t, and left them to it.

My last sight of Tim and Dzus on that day was a few hours later, still in the engine-room trying to get the regulator under the governor……

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?

Origins

This blog, which will be very occasional, looks at the world of diesel traction railway preservation (that’s Diesel Railway Engine Preservation to most normal people). It’s a varied world with many participants, who are as widely different as the rest of the population, some normal, others are anything but. We are however a fairly friendly bunch, sharing a common aim, but with a fair amount of inter-group rivalry to spice it up.

I got involved over 15 years ago, following a long and largely undistinguished career as a basher. A little explanation is called for perhaps: Where as train spotting involves the recording of train numbers as you see them. Bashing involves recording the numbers of the trains you are pulled (hauled) by. Yes both disciplines keep note books and some participants are both spotters and bashers. I digress….

Bashing is a fairly social activity, you meet like minded souls (mostly in the front coach), and at every station some will leave or join the train as they make their moves to pick up other trains. Through this network, gen (information) about which locomotives were being used on which services is passed around. Accurate gen combined with an all line timetable (Bible) allows the basher to plan his day and obtain the most mileage out of his favourite locos, and position himself to be in the right place at the right time to pick up those he needs. Consequently bashing and the opportunity to partake of a beer or three while waiting for the next train, creates a close knit community with its own language and customs.

In the late 1980s, much to my consternation, my favourite type (class in the jargon) of locos, were considered life expired by British Rail, and they started to disappear from service to be recycled into razor blades and Sony walkmen (is that the plural of walkman?). So when one of my fellow bashers, with similar tastes in locomotives (we’ll call him Will), suggested we should club together with a few others and buy one, I did the obvious thing, and told him he was potty and there was no way I was wasting my money on his silly idea………

Will didn’t give up, along with Sonning, B&H, Glassy, Twyford and Newbury Donkey (ah yes, many of the bashers have nick names, some with more obvious origins than others), he raised enough to out bid the scrappers. Then he went and put a bid in for a nearly complete example, that was being kept at Strongbridge depot near London.

BR accepted the bid and gave him 7 days to hand over the money plus the VAT…….

He hadn’t reckoned on the VAT (purchase tax for those living outside the UK), so Will was just a little short. Needless to say his desperate appeals to save him from a fate worse than a long interview his bank manager and eternal debt, soften my resolve and along with a few other original doubters the short fall was covered.

Three weeks later we met up at Strongbridge for the first working party, and started to realise the size of the task we had before us……….