Age of the train

The irony of the ‘Age of the Train’ slogan could be appreciated by the average child living in Hampshire (me), given the less-than-current nature of British Rail’s rolling stock travelling the Portsmouth Harbour to Southampton Central line. My nearest station was Swanwick, where the car park was always packed with Transits of all vintages – the local choice of commercial vehicle was made at the nearby Ford plant in Swaythling. There were occasional visits from HA delivery vans belonging to any number of firms and Morris Ital taxis, while the staff comprising Ken and Arthur were ever-present.

Their responsibilities included neatly arranging the booking office’s display of cardboard tickets and, on occasion, chasing youths off Platform 1. The latter duty was achieved with the aid of the official station broom and usually accompanied by plenty of shouting. Their ultimate sanction was ‘I’ll call the railway police!’ although the only time I recall the BTP actually making an appearance, they arrived in a Talbot Solara. By that point, any reasonably fit miscreant had long since vanished.