On The Footplate
A Memory of Law.
To reach Law Junction from my home to begin the morning shift I always caught the 5.17am fish train and smelled like a herring for the rest of the day. One winter's morning the driver took pity on me and invited me to travel on the footplate, an offer I couldn’t refuse, even though it was against the regulations. Soon the engine was clattering noisily and violently along the tracks. All I could see ahead in the inky blackness were the lights of semaphore signals and a maze of points vanishing under the wheels like silver threads only just visible in the moonlight. With one foot on the coal tender and the other on the engine, my legs jolted this way and that like those of a demented marionette. I feared the engine would leap the rails. But what a memorable experience – and I even got to shovel some coal into the glowing firebox!
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