The Station Master (and his roaring fire) Carnforth
Railway
station first
features in my memories in the 1930’s as a staging post for
day
trips to Morecambe or Blackpool from my home in Kendal. But my most
vivid memory of the place was on a bitterly cold Friday evening in the
winter of 1946 – 47. I had been demobbed from the RAF in 1946 and was at the time studying at Wakefield Technical College. The night in question I was travelling from Wakefield to Kendal to visit my Mother. I was on a stopping train that called at Skipton, Settle and Giggleswick to name but a few. We had to change at Carnforth but when we arrived there at about 8.00 pm was no train to be had. I should mention the winter of 1946. Much of the country had been covered with snow and subjected to freezing temperature for weeks, I don’t know whether the roads were open to Kendal but if they were there would not have been many vehicles trying to use them at that time of night. Six of us were left standing on the platform there at Carnforth wondering whether we would have to wait for the milk train in the early hours of the morning, when the stationmaster appeared. He beckoned us into his office; to be honest I cannot recall much about the room. I suppose it was a functional old-fashioned place with a desk and a telephone, but what I do remember is that it had one of the largest fires that I had ever seen, and we were invited to sit in front of it. We were plied with steaming cups of tea, whilst the Station Master got to work on the telephone. The upshot of his calls was a train and carriage driven all the way from Lancaster, especially to take the six of us on to Kendal. We stayed in the warmth of his office until we boarded the train to finish our journey. This is a memory I have told and retold to my wife, children and now grandchildren. In reading the accounts of the making of a ‘Brief Encounter’ on the (Carnforth Station website) I am sure that the ‘old fashioned gentleman’ that Celia Johnson remembered offering her hospitality between filming was the same station master that looked after us that night. Whilst kind and hospitable this old Station Master also clearly had the experience and authority to seemingly conjure a train out of nowhere for six tired and cold travellers on that freezing winters night. Fred Reed 2006 "My Memories of Carnforth Railway Station" by Ivy Hamilton (nee Wilkinson) I was born in Carnforth on January 3rd 1930 at Canal Cottages, and the station was a part of my childhood. My grandparents lived very close to it on Ramsden St, so close that we were used to the rumble of trains passing, in fact we had to stop any conversation until the train had passed by. It was also hard to fall asleep at night as they passed through, shaking the house. The station became a favourite place where my friends & I used to play. If we got a penny from our parents or grandma we used to climb the wooden fence and run across the railway lines to go and buy a Nestles bar of chocolate from the machine outside the station, Or we would sit on top of the fence writing down the train numbers, and singing at the top of our voices songs like "South of the Border". Other times, we would sit on the steps watching people walking with their suitcases and getting on the train and getting off. It was an exciting day when I went for my first train ride with my bucket & spade to the sea side at Morcambe. We made many day trips there. This would be in the 1930's. We also made trips to Grange Over Sands. I remember the big clock hanging over the station. I also remember my auntie Sylvia Wilkinson taking part in the filming of the film "Brief Encounter", she was an extra happy to be making 1 pound per day just to act like a passenger sitting on the train. My grandma's sister Ada Jenkinson used to work behind the counter at the luncheon room on the station. My grandma Florence Wilkinson used to clean the train carriages sitting in the sidings. We children were supposed to be helping, but we spent the time playing., it was great fun having all the empty carriages to roam around in. I had two sets of grandparents living in Carnforth then. The Wilkinsons and the Howarths, and because I got mixed up with what to call my grandma's, I called them Nannie Puffer, who lived next to the railway, and the other, Nannie Water, as she lived next to the canal. My two grandads and great grand dad worked on the railway from Carnforth Station. The Howarth Family lived at Canal Cottages which were Railway Cottages. I remember seeing my husband to be off at Carnforth Station. He was a Petty Officer in the Royal Navy, and was off to join his Ship in Scotland. So yes, the Station brings back fond memories of times gone by. I once saw a picture of Carnforth Station in a British Newspaper, that saddened me to see how neglected and dilapidated it looked. So it is wonderful to know it has all been restored and is in use again. It is a part of Carnforth history. Ivy Hamilton (Canada) Christmas 1967 was just a couple of days away. Fog lay in various depths all over Europe. I was booked to fly home from Frankfurt to Manchester Ringway through London. Delays all the way. It was too late for the connection on, by the time we finally arrived at London Heathrow on a TWA flight. The choice was either to stay overnight in a hotel and take the first possible flight out next morning, or to travel by train. I - train-crazy of course - let myself be given a 1st-class ticket through from Euston to Arnside, and then retired for something to drink into an extremely ill cared-for, extremely dirty and smelly station restaurant. At some now unknown time my train finally left for the north and for home. On arriving at Carnforth, a very bad-tempered early-morning derived of his coffee guard informed me " you doesn't get aat o' this train at Arnside - it's only for't newspapers!! Yer gits aat at Grange 'n waits for't next one back!!" (my anger was up anyway due to the condition of the restaurant room at Euston - at least BR (Frankfurt Office) paid for the dry-cleaning afterwards!!). The "screams of blue murder" were worth hearing as the guard suddenly saw me disappearing homewards up the Station Field - "cum' 'ere, cum' 'ere, yer doesn't git aat 'ere. Grange fer yer!!!" Who in his right mind would have waited in a pre-dawn morning almost three hours at a godforsaken place like Grange - cold, draughty and coffee-less - for a connection back over the Kentsand Viaduct (NOT paid for by TWA - and BR wouldn't have paid for me either, that's for sure), when bed was not even 5 walk minutes away from Arnside Station... Wyn Anderson Thanks to Wyn Anderson for permission to reproduce this item, which he wrote for the Cumbrian Railway internet chat group. [ Top ] During the Second World War, coal was a very precious commodity, needed by Railways, and Industry to keep the country going, and the wheels and the machines turning. As a consequence of this, coal for domestic burning was quite severely rationed. It was normal in private houses for wood and rubbish to be used as much as possible to supplement the very meagre coal ration, and a "real" coal fire was normally only seen on special occasions, such as weddings or funerals. One elderly gentleman at Hest Bank, just to the south of Carnforth, even in the darkest days of the war, always seemed to be able to have a full flaming coal fire on the go. For a while, his neighbours assumed that he must have had a very big store of coal, in his cellar, prior to the war, and that he was just rashly burning it, rather than rationing himself, and they were convinced that he would soon run out. As time went on, however, his roaring coal fire's continued, and there seemed to be no sign of him running out. From curiosity, the local interest turned to envy, and then jealousy, and then, one day, convinced that the elderly gentleman must be a "foreign agent" or a "Black Market racketeer" someone told the local Police Officer. In due course, the local constable turned up just for a "cuppa and a chat" and in the course of the conversation he casually asked the elderly gentleman about his supply of coal. The gentleman assured the constable that he was neither a "Foreign Agent" nor a "Black Market racketeer", but, that he seldom lit a fire, that he had some coal left over from before the war, and that he seldom had a fire lit, but he just happened to have lit it on that day, because the weather was a little nippy.Not really satisfied with the explanation, but unable to actually find anything wrong, the constable left. Over the course of the rest of the war, the local constable called many times on the old gentleman, for a "cuppa and a chat", initially to try and catch him out, but eventually because he had a warm fire, and he enjoyed the elderly gentlemans company, but he couldn't find out where this coal was coming from. Some years after the war, when rationing no longer mattered, the constable and the old man, who were by now very good friends, were chatting, and the retired constable asked the old man where the coal HAD come from, the old man indicated that the retired constable follow him, and the two elderly men walked slowly into the back garden, which backed into the main railway line. The back garden was still mostly a vegetable patch, and the old man still grew many of his own vegetables, in the middle of the vegetable garden, however, standing on a little pedestal made of stones was a brightly painted garden gnome, which some vandals had obviously damaged, because one arm was broken off, and the paintwork was badly chipped. The ex-constable was puzzled, what had a brightly painted, broken garden gnome to do with a coalfire? "Look" said the old man, and reached down into the greenery of the vegetables, and picked up a large piece of coal, "whenever I needed a spot more coal, I would make another garden gnome out of the broken bits from the last gnome, paint it bright colours, and put it into the garden, the passing firemen on the local railway line used to try and break the garden gnome, with coal from the steam engines, they enjoyed their fun, and I enjoyed their coal!" [ Top ] In the early days of the Steamtown Railway Museum, volunteers would travel from all over Britain, to assist with, and work on, the steam engines. One of these volunteers was from North London, and I don't think anybody actually knew his name, because his total vocabulary seemed to consist of just three words, "oh f*****g h**l !!" It didn't really seem to matter what the occasion, or what you asked him, this seemed to be the limit of his conversation. One hot, sticky Saturday evening, after an open day, with a number of locomotives in Steam, a group of Steamtown volunteers went across to the BRSA (British Rail Staff Association) club, for a drink. Towards the end of the evening, after much Newcastle Brown Ale had been drunk, it was decided that somebody had better walk into Carnforth to the Chip Shop, and get some supper for everybody. Money was collected, and orders taken, and our North London friend left to get the chips, with the understanding that he would take them straight back to Steamtown, where he would be met by the volunteers, who were staying the night there. Closing time came, and went, and a group of volunteers, slightly the worse for wear, made their way back to Steamtown, looking forward to their supper. Time went on, and still no sign of Supper, so the group started to look around, to see where their supper was. The shed was searched, the footplate of all the engines in Steam were searched, just in case their supper was warming near one of the fires, the buildings around the shed were searched in case our North London friend had accidentally locked himself in somewhere, but neither the man, nor their supper could be found. It was decided to go back to the BRSA, in case the arrangements had been understood, and some of the group set off back across the metal footbridge. As they got part way across the bridge, one of those rare moments occurred, when the world seems to go quiet, just for a few seconds.. and quite clearly, from a distance, could be heard those words of "OH F*****G Heck !!", "OH F*****G Heck !!", repeated over, and over again. A short search found our friend, he had taken a short cut across the (closed) marshalling yard, up to his arm-pits in water, a cast iron cover had given way, and he had fallen into a drain. His arms were stretched straight up, holding the packet containing all the fish and chips, and when asked if he was OK.. all he could say was "OH F*****G Heck !!" [ Top ] I never knew who was responsible for ringing the "Flyer" bell, but, I suspect that the official "bell ringer" must have had a sense of humour. In the mid 1960's Carnforth railway station always seemed to have a number of "Railway Enthusiasts" and "Train Spotters" on its platforms, and, of course, the sounding of the "Flyer Bell" indicated the imminent arrival of a fast train, which might be being pulled by some unusual locomotive. Whenever the "Flyer Bell" rang, the train watchers would appear from all over the place, to watch the "Flyer" going through. This bell was a great boon to some of the enthusiasts, because, with Carnforth railway station being so close to the "Sheds", frequent visits to platform 6 were necessary to not miss out on what was going on in the goods yard, and the engine shed. The ringing of the bell meant a mad dash, back to where the flyer could be seen. Certainly on some winter Saturdays, when the train watchers were out of the cold, huddled in whichever waiting room had a fire going at the time, the "Flyer Bell" would ring to announce the passing of some unexpected train, everybody would run to a spot where they could see the "Flyer" and wait.. and wait.. and wait...! Eventually they would realise that they had been had.. and would return, now very cold, to the warmth of the waiting room, to curse whoever it was had falsely rung the bell.! [ Top ] One day, when I was a youngster, I asked the Driver of a local train, standing in Platform 5, if I could have a look in the cab of his steam engine (A Fairburn 2-6-4 Tank engine), and he invited me aboard. I stood quietly in the corner of the cab, and watched, fascinated as they prepared for the departure of the local service to Wennington. It wasn't until the train had left the Station and was a few minutes into its journey, that the Driver realised that he still had his young "guest" on board. It was too late for me to get off, and so I had to stay on for the complete journey to Wennington and back. I didn't half "catch it" from my mum, when I went home that night, I was black with coaldust, and after a good bath, and a telling off, I was sent straight to bed... but it was worth it ! [ Top ] There is a story about one driver, at the end of the 19th century, who was reprimanded for driving at excessive speeds, and arriving at his destination far too early. Upon investigation, it turned out that a new timetable had been instigated a week or so earlier, and one of the station staff at Carnforth, knowing this particular driver was a stickler for time, had been re-setting the Carnforth clock to the "correct" time, every time this particular train had gone past. The Driver, like many railway men of the time, judged their speed by the time at which they passed Curch and Station clocks. Every day, the driver checked the time as he went past the Carnforth clock, and saw that he was one minute late, and so, the following day he drove a little faster, to try and keep to the timetable.. but, every day, he found he was STILL one minute late, so the following day, he drove a little faster.. until, eventually he was reprimanded at the destination station, for arriving far too early ! [ Top ] One Sunday, in the early 1970's, I
was stood on Carnforth Station,
watching not very much going on. The electrification of the main line
was virtually
complete, and one or two electric locomotives were about, presumably
for test purposes. [ Top ] Encounter with film makers not so friendly I was lodging there
(Carnforth) as a passed cleaner when Brief
Encounter was being filmed, most of which was done during the hours of
darkness. The train
the film-makers used was a
two-car with a tank engine. Each
compartment had frosted windows with a floodlight inside. W C Addy, [ Top ] [Imagine
an old British train with
coaches of the compartment type (rather
like seven or eight stagecoaches stuck together with no communication
between them). Once
you've chosen your comparment you're stuck there till the next stop.] Story e-mailed in by a reader [ Top ] General Exrxes - at Carnforth railway station - in the days before rail privatisation.... The
General, having missed his
connection to Leeds, accosted a Porter, who
in those days were usually to be found lounging against convenient wall
- well out of
sight of travellers struggling with large numbers of heavy suitcases. Story e-mailed in by a reader [ Top ] Three
Canadians and three Englishmen
are travelling by train to a hockey
game. story e-mailed in by a reader [ Top ] Throughout the 1950's our family went each year on holiday to the Cumbrian coast from our home in Skipton. We caught the 7.05 train from Skipton and changed at Carnforth for the coast line to Braystones, where we spent each Summer holiday two weeks in one of the beach bungalows there. I can still chant the names of the intermediate stations where in those days all trains stopped. We changed at Carnforth on the way home, of course, but it was a much different journey. The Skipton train (it was probably the Leeds train) arrived and left from the bay or the adjacent platform 3. As young children, my brother, sister and I would every year put a penny in the slot of the label stamping machine and stamp our names and ages on the aluminium strip which we collected each year. Simple pleasures. The refreshment room I well remember was much grander than the pokey Skipton one for instance, and when I eventually watched the film made there, I can quite understand why the film company went all that way to the north to get a wonderful location. That's not to say that the food was wonderful, just the location! Watching the express trains thunder through was particularly impressive, and possibly one of the influences that I made a career in steam engineering, but in the merchant Navy and not on the railways. Watching the express's go through at night though was a whole different thing though. I still have a distinct memory of seeing the light from the firebox door illuminate the footplate and reflect off the smoke and exhaust steam above the cab as the engine sped past. Quite unforgetable, and just so atmospheric. One moment it was quiet, then the approaching train came closer and louder. A flash of light, exciting noise, smell of steam and hot engine, a momentary view of the footplate and the train flashed through after the enormous main line engine. Then it was gone and the station was as before, almost as if had never been, just a dream. As a footnote, and nothing to do with Carnforth but to add to the tale about the unusual coal deliveries, there was a particular spot, well away from the beach bungalows at Braystones, where there was always coal to be found lying in the long grass of the embankment. This had obviously been 'delivered' by enginemen who possibly had friends on holiday there. We instantly became their friends, whether they knew it or not! This is similar to story I had heard told of the engine driver, who, when regularly passing a particularly poor area of Glasgow, instructed his fireman to eject a large lump of coal onto the trackside with the cry of 'that's one for the parish'. His way of charity with the railway companies coal. Keith Perriman South Shields
Never to be forgotten.........
On the morning of Feburary 27th 1903 as the wind incresed, a storm was in sight, the early train being the mail train from CARNFORTH via Ulverstone. to Barrow-In-Furness and Whitehaven was crossing the Levens Viaduct when it was blown of the rails, luckly it landed on the other side of the track, other wise it would have blown over into the River Kent This is only part of the story. The driver of the train was my great-great grandad MR TOMMAS SHAW.and the releaf engine. driver was driven by his son Mr Walter Shaw, (being my grandad) who worked on the railways for more than 50yearsrs. Walter Shaw died in 1977 (age of 102.} David Alan Balderson Grandson.of Walter Shaw. Air powered steam engine. Wagons in the pit. Stolen Injector/ Ejector. Last steam engine / DMU Detonators on the line Lost Cat [ Top
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