A Mis-spent Youth
This weekend I went out to photograph a few rail-tours in the Scottish Borders. At one location I was set up ready to go, when an irate farmer advised me that I was on his land in a manner that suggested I should do something (or else!). As I made to move off to find another location, he asked me what I was doing there anyway.
Normally I tend to deflect such questions, but surprised at his interest, I responded, telling him that I was a part owner in a locomotive that was due past any moment now and I wanted to get a photograph of it.
“How do you become a part owner of a locomotive?”
I suggested he didn’t want the long story, and the short version could be summarised as "a mis-spent youth".
From this point his manner became far friendlier and we got talking. It transpired that his uncle had been a driver for many years before being forced to light duties following an injury. The farmer used to go with him on Sunday engineering trains and occasionally as far as Inverness in the cab of a Deltic or Brush (I assumed class 47). It was clear he remembered the time with fondness and was now quite happy to stand there and talk, he even let me get my shots in.
After the train had disappeared round the curve, the conversation continued. It transpired he had wanted to follow his uncle on to the railway, although he knew it would disappoint his father as he wouldn’t then be able take over the family farm.
What had stopped him?
At fifteen he had an argument with his mother, and in a fit of rebellion he had stolen the village bobby’s bike and cycled into the nearby town. There he had nicked a bottle of sprits and tried to drink it all in the park. Although he was never prosecuted, the police record had been enough to prevent him getting a job on the railway.
Dryly he remarked, “That was my mis-spent youth”.
Normally I tend to deflect such questions, but surprised at his interest, I responded, telling him that I was a part owner in a locomotive that was due past any moment now and I wanted to get a photograph of it.
“How do you become a part owner of a locomotive?”
I suggested he didn’t want the long story, and the short version could be summarised as "a mis-spent youth".
From this point his manner became far friendlier and we got talking. It transpired that his uncle had been a driver for many years before being forced to light duties following an injury. The farmer used to go with him on Sunday engineering trains and occasionally as far as Inverness in the cab of a Deltic or Brush (I assumed class 47). It was clear he remembered the time with fondness and was now quite happy to stand there and talk, he even let me get my shots in.
After the train had disappeared round the curve, the conversation continued. It transpired he had wanted to follow his uncle on to the railway, although he knew it would disappoint his father as he wouldn’t then be able take over the family farm.
What had stopped him?
At fifteen he had an argument with his mother, and in a fit of rebellion he had stolen the village bobby’s bike and cycled into the nearby town. There he had nicked a bottle of sprits and tried to drink it all in the park. Although he was never prosecuted, the police record had been enough to prevent him getting a job on the railway.
Dryly he remarked, “That was my mis-spent youth”.
Labels: farmer, loco, locomotive, Rail-tours, train, youth
posted by TonyB at 1:41 pm
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