Tanks For
The Boot Fair
By Kent Barker
We have a problem, my partner and I.
We are constitutionally incapable of passing a country boot fair without
stopping, exploring and, usually, buying something that we really don’t need
or, as it often turns out, don’t actually much want. But it looks so tempting
lying there on the ground, or perched on a rickety table. And it’s sooooo cheap that we just cant resist the bargain. There’s
probably some complex psychological name for the affliction, but I have yet to
discover any cure.
The problem is that, over the years,
we’ve acquired so many unwanted knick-knacks that cupboards, cellars, attics,
garages and spare rooms are crammed to bursting point and I’ve even started
building sheds in the garden as additional storage space. That’s when you know that you’re in the grip
of a serious addiction.
Anyway, this is just as a preamble
to recounting my experience in a field outside Rolvenden a few weeks ago.
M’lady had rushed off to check out the clothes rails, fearful lest anyone else
should have snapped up some moth-eaten fur-collared offerings, while I made a
bee-line to the stand selling CDs. Now
this, like second marriages, is generally an exercise in hope over experience. Usually all that’s on offer are Boney M rejects
or The Absolute Ultimate Pan Pipe Collection.
And while I can (just) stand Boney M, I certainly can’t abide anything
to do with Pan Pipes (or Richard Clayderman or Demis
Roussos come to that - all of whom are
lumped together in my mind as a sort of sticky-treacle mire waiting suck me
down.)
So imagine my surprise and delight
when I found an extraordinary collection of obscure Jazz recordings from
favourite artists like Miles Davis and Bill Evans. I thought I already had almost everything
they’d ever done, so these unknown albums were a real find. As I loaded up as many as I could carry and
fished in my pocket for a £20 note, I asked the purveyor how he managed to get
such a fantastic collection and, more pertinently, why he was disposing of
them? “Oh, they’re not mine,” he said
“someone donated them to us. It’s all for
the 4253 project.”
I muttered something about being
delighted to help such a good cause, unwilling to admit to my total ignorance
of it. But fortunately he thrust a leaflet
into my hand which I was able to read later over tea and scones (another good
reason for frequenting upmarket boot fairs).
It turns out that 4253 is, in fact,
a steam engine. But not just any old
steam engine, it’s a 2-8-0T locomotive, built for the Great Western Railway in
1917. And even more excitingly it’s a tank
engine. Now, when my son was a toddler
he developed a serious passion for the Rev Wilbert Awdry’s tales about Thomas
the Tank Engine and for hour after hour I would have to read them to him or sit
with him watching the videos narrated by Ringo Starr. I got to know Thomas and his friends Henry
and Gordon far better than I could ever have imagined possible – or have any
wish so to do. But in all of that time
it never occurred to me to ask, what exactly IS a tank engine? Well, thanks to GWR 4253 (and the wonders of
the internet), now I know. And thanks to
me, you soon will too! A tank engine is
a steam locomotive that carries its water in one or more on-board water tanks,
instead of a more traditional tender.
Now you may be about to complain
this is hardly information to set the world on fire. But just wait a bit. When the tank engine was developed around
1840 it was quite revolutionary. Up
until then locomotives had trailed a tender behind them with spare water and
coal. But the problem was that they
couldn’t reverse very quickly because the tender, being designed to be pulled,
didn’t like being pushed and easily became derailed. So the tank engine was really useful for
goods work and shunting, being able to go backwards just as easily is forwards.
And this was the case with GWR
4253. It s principle role was hauling
coal trains through the Welsh valleys from the pits to the docks or steelworks.
For this it needed formidable traction and steaming power as it was often
pulling more than a thousand tons up quite sharp inclines.
Anyway, 4253 was bought as a wreck
by the Kent and East Sussex Railway and is currently being totally rebuilt at a
cost of £375,000. Of which about £20 has
come from me! But the question remains, just
why does our little local light railway need such a powerful workhorse. And the answer, I’m afraid, will have to wait
until next week.
ends
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