Club Foyer>Chillout Room>Depositions

Train Spotting

Dear Lorraine,

I have enjoyed popping in to your website for several years and have always wanted to write up my personal experiences regarding the special magic that the authentic rubber mackintosh has held for me. Having just retired, I now have more that enough time on my hands - so here I am!

Back in the late nineteen-fifties and early sixties train spotting was a harmless activity enjoyed by many lads of my age. This was a time when most trains were pulled by lovely (but mostly grimy) clanking steam engines, before Dr. Beeching got his hands bloody with the cutting back of Britain's rail network.

Of course, this was also before the name 'train spotter' was used in the utterly derisive sense it now has and before the so called 'popular-press' invented the irritatingly disparaging term 'anorak' to describe some of those less socially-able who joined in this activity - I would venture that most of us who spent our time out next to the line those days are, in the main, quite well adjusted individuals (but then again, after you've read this letter, you'll think maybe not!).

The idea was to collect as many engine numbers as possible. Named engines (namers) were especially sought after. It seems rather a strange activity now, but before the invention of computer games, TV, and continuous 'on-tap' entertainment, it kept us busy and generally was fun.

I used to live in the country with my Mum close to the Great Central main line out of London. There were several of the lads that used gather at a favourite bridge overlooking the approaches to the local station. We had a clear view of all the lines, could see the signals being set and easily see what was coming from all directions. There was also a less popular overbridge nearer to my home - closer, but with a more obscured view and no signals to herald what treasures might be expected. I only went there occasionally.

There was one notable addition to our gang - Anne. Anne was a regular participant in our spotting activities. She was wonderfully tomboyish and I think she enjoyed the lads' company and the somewhat 'robust' turns of phrase sometimes used, not that (compared with these days) we were ever less than gentlemen to her! Anne lived at a farm not to far from where I stayed. I must add that I enjoyed her company for other reasons, as I was aware that with a developing body and long blond hair, she was turning into quite a beauty. But I was painfully shy and as we were always in the company of the gang, such thoughts were not even slightly revealed from my side.

One day, after I had been in bed with the 'flu or such for a few days, I did not fancy walking all the way down to the station, so I went to my local spot instead. As I approached I saw a familiar form at the overbridge. It was Anne on her way from the farm. We stopped to chat. In the end we decided to stay there and watch what trains came through. There was nobody else there.

Although it was sunny there was very much a chilly breeze blowing. We got quite cold standing on the bridge. Down next to the line there was a platelayer's bothy that afforded some shelter on its lee side. This was in the days when trespassing on the railway was not as serious (or dangerous) as it is now and we sneaked down out of view of the road. We sat in the sun waiting for trains, but all seemed unusually quiet. While we waited I explored and found that the bothy had been left unlocked. We decided to see what was inside.

It was full of tools and tins of grease, etc. There was also an old horsehair couch. I sat down on it and she sat next to me. Now although I had been very shy towards her, we had recently given each other a few admiring glances while 'spotting' and also at school. Now I wondered if I might just try taking things a bit further. Very carefully I put out my hand and touched her - and she jumped up in surprise. I thought I'd blown it, but then she smiled at me and said one word: 'Wait.'

She was wearing a young ladies' mackintosh (navy, with a blue rubberized lining) that she then took off. She placed this, rubber-side up, on the couch (she said so her jumper would not get dirty), sat down on it and then indicated that I should sit down next to her. Almost in a daze I moved closer, carefully put my arm around her and leant forward for the most perfect of kisses. Well that was all that was needed. The floodgates of passion opened up and we kissed and kissed and kissed. She snuggled up to me and I held her close. I even managed to put my hand upon her breast under her jumper (so warm, soft and exciting!) for a while. I know we were both experiencing some very intense sensations at that moment, but that is as far as it went - we were both very sensible, and I must add, both very scared of Anne's dad (if he had ever found out) - he was known to have a really awful temper!

We sat there in the bothy, holding each other tight, both of us savouring the occasion. How long we did this for, I do not know. There were so many stimuli - so many multiple signals being received by our collective antennae - but funnily enough, the predominant feature that has stuck in my mind of that afternoon was the rubbery smell of her mackintosh, warmed by our combined (and elevated) body heat. Although it was not unfamiliar (I had a similar type of boy's mack), from then on that smell (and to a lesser extent, the feel) became a very evocative stimulus, to say the least!

Our tryst was rudely interrupted by a train clanking past. We were already scared of being caught in the bothy by a passing platelayer and having to 'please explain' to the local Station Master (and later our parents), and we took this as a suitable occasion to stop, so reluctantly, but of necessity, we broke off our activities. Anne slipped her mack back on, and (after checking for any railwaymen in the vicinity) we stepped out of the bothy. We went back up to the overbridge and waited for more trains, but there was nothing. Eventually we bid each other goodbye and headed off to our respective homes.

It was only the next day that I discovered that there had been a "wonderful show" at the station with a derailment that had closed the main line for at least four hours. The train that had disturbed us must have been the breakdown crane going down to tidy up. Luckily there were no fatalities, although it was rumored that one of the enginemen involved had lost a leg in the accident. If only I had gone down to the station that afternoon... But then again, my time together with Anne in the bothy had amply made up for any disappointment in this regard.

One would have thought that after that, our romance might have progressed, but it did not. As I had mentioned, Anne came from a very strict home, and although she had definitely enjoyed our time of passion together, I think she was not comfortable with the implications of what might have happened had we become carried away. In any case we were really too young at that stage to go out together.

Although I tried to keep things 'on the boil' my advances were met always met with a firm mood of reservation from her from then on. Still, ever hopeful, I remained friends with her at school and within the gang and we even went to the cinema together once or twice afterwards: but that was that! In any case, any awkwardness in our situation was decided on by outside circumstances when my Mum and I moved away from the area eight months later. I never returned.

But afterwards, as a lad, when I wore my mack, there was always the memory of Anne and that first passionate kiss and cuddle on the bothy couch. In time, the smell of rubberized cloth became a familiar, almost addictive pleasure. I never got over it and have always purchased new raincoats made of rubber, although they were sometimes not easily available. Even though my life progressed along the normal lines of marriage, children, etc. it has remained a somewhat 'strange' private pleasure that has been with me for over fifty years.

For this reason, I still wear the authentic rubber mackintosh.

Yours truly,

Lloyd

Dear Lloyd

What a switchback story! I was so hoping you and Anne would make an item - well, you, her and her navy mac. But how silly of me! It's all about these glittering moments, really, isn't it?

Thank you so much for writing. Maybe you will write again ... ?

Best wishes

Lorraine