So now we had a house that has a garden, a shed, and a coal bunker. Our hot water was heated by a coal boiler in the kitchen. Lots of odd bits of rubbish was consumed by the boiler along with the coal supplies. One infamous occasion saw a
10 shilling note - a Christmas present to me, go up in flames within the wrapping paper. The bunker was split in two with one rarely needed unless winter time. The spare became a place to hide, and alongside the sand pit there were places to play in safety. But, at the end of the garden was the alleyway and beyond that the railway. There was a place of mystery, and soon a regular experience as we used the nearby station to travel to shops and relatives. And the milk train came each lunchtime, with a steam engine. I’m told I liked to be out ready in the alley to wave to crews who’d often wave back. The coal yard across the tracks still had occasional wagons left there.Travel by train left impressions, luxury Pullman trains hurrying to the coast, and the Night Ferry train from Victoria that took you direct into France and beyond. Not that we used them. Railways have changed in many ways, and generally for the better. But the romance is not quite the same?
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