THE UNBEARABLE CONNECTEDNESS OF BEING
It's important to remember that I had been writing an article to publicise next year's Audax National 400, which will go through the lovely Welsh town of Llangollen. That was yesterday evening.
Today I rode along the Rochdale Canal and through the woods to Heywood, to catch an East Lancashire Railway train. The idea was to get off at Bury, buy my (own) Christmas presents from the railwayana stalls and then complete the round trip via Rawtenstall on another service. I arrived in Heywood early enough to get coffee and home-made bakewell tart from a local cafe. Soon after, a Standard 4 tank delivered me to the beautifully restored Bury Bolton Street station.
I had only been there a few minutes when coincidence number one pulled in, in the form of a peculiar (to me) steam multiple unit, consisting of a GWR pannier tank sandwiched between two unusual looking carriages.
Apparently the arrangement was a means of avoiding running the engine round the train to operate a return journey, when lines were being pulled up. The coincidence hit when I looked at the name board on one of the coaches.
I watched the outfit steam down in the direction I had come from, locked my bike to a seat, mooched around the bookstalls and then caught the Welsh train on its return. Coincidence number two announced itself from a seat by my elbow with, “Is it Peter?” I had a surreptitious look at my driving licence and was able to confirm this. My inquisitor was the daughter of a friend of mine. I had only encountered her once before, at her father's funeral in Rochdale, at which time she was a resident of Coventry. We had a nice chat which continued briefly in the Buffer Stop bar at Rawtenstall.
Thinking that would be it for the day, I caught the same train for its return to Bury and enjoyed the fine 1930s craftsmanship of the interior of the coaches, which date from around the 1930s, I was told. Frilly rimmed glass lampshades and floral patterned lamp domes spoke of a more innocent time, or at least a time when trains were better manned.
As I was getting off to wait for the next train, purely to ride on a different set-up, coincidence number three caught my eye. There on the bulkhead was a plate commemorating the restoration of the coach at Appleby Heritage Centre.
This is at Appleby station in Westmorland. I've only been to Appleby station once in my life and that was a fortnight ago for the Dufton camping weekend. Waiting for my train back to Leeds, I had taken a picture of a truck at the very Heritage centre of coincidental fame.
This was all becoming a bit spooky – but the gods weren't finished with me. On the final connection, I put my bike in the guard's van (remember them?) where there was already a very sad machine lying on the floor. I assume it was one of the period pieces that help to make Ramsbottom station such a time warp but it was in a very sorry state, having obviously been vandalised.
I chatted about this (and that) with one of the volunteers who had just finished his day on line maintenance. It turned out that he lived over to Huddersfield, in Meltham. This is where the much lamented John Radford lived and he knew all about his sad case. Much musing as I rode home along the canal.
Four coincidences and I was only on the trains for about an hour. Does God play dice? I rather think she might.
