Railways, a Book and a Trip

 

Amazon 

I have just finished reading ‘Eleven Minutes Late,’ by Matthew Engel, an excellent but rather ungainly titled book on UK’s beloved railways. ‘Beloved’ is the word I used but we must remember there are commuters who may disagree somewhat with that term.  This is not a book full of technical details, I would be dumb before it if it was, but an enjoyable romp through the growth off and present state of the railways in the UK today, well, in 2009 when the book was published.  

This brought to mind all the memories of good days on the railways, back into the nostalgia of the days of steam.  Obviously, none of my readers will be old enough to remember that grime filled time period.

Entering into the glass covered yet somewhat dim Waverley station via the long slow ramp, taxis lined up at the side, or by the wind-swept steps off Princes Street was always a pleasure, it still is!  Possibly it was dim in my memory because we usually travelled early in an Edinburgh July!  The confined spaces, taxis and cars passing by, people crowding John Menzies bookstall, crowds of people confused as to their platform, as indeed we were, possibly it is just my memory. 

Dad would make for the wooden ticket office in the centre of the station, a marvellously decorated hall, leaning down to the ridiculous small window from which tickets were dispensed at that time.  As kids we were just excited to be heading for Cowdenbeath or Dunfermline for a summer holiday glad to be out of school and in an adventure. 

Ah family, living off them is such fun, at least for us.  As I remember it my aunts and uncles then were all marvellous and quite used to children in the house.  Many had passed this way before us.  

After much fuss at Waverley we would head for Platform 18 where we approached the dark maroon carriages of British Railways.  How old were they I wonder?  Corridor trains that possibly came in to service before the war?  On occasion I would ask about the man in the blue, dingy oil covered uniform, to be informed he had been ‘under the train.’  This was a concept that intrigued someone well under 10 years of age.  The idea of crawling about under the train intrigued.  Had it been possible I would have ventured down myself to have a look.  This was not however encouraged.  These men were merely the crew ensure oil levels were correct, all moving parts greased to the driver’s satisfaction before leaving thus ensuring the dingy black engine would reach the final destination without hitch. 

I did not realise that such engines were no longer maintained to their best condition, the policy was to just keep them moving for a few years before diesel, the answer to all rail problems, would begin.

Another flawed railway policy.    

Inside we settled into a compartment, much to the delight of those who had got in previously who now contemplated the delights of travel with children!  Today I feel for those people.  

I would be entranced by the ridiculous system for opening the window on the doors, all leather strap and strength, however they usually remained shut, the small window of the compartment itself was half open, to allow air to enter and steam and grit to remain outside.  Some preferred sitting with their back to the engine to avoid such intrusions. 

The pictures above the seats, aged prints of highland glens, lochs and other delights unknown to those from Edinburgh’s corporation housing estates, sat next to the dim lights covered by even dimmer lampshades.  Switching them on made the compartment even dimmer still. 

On occasion a jolt would tell us the engine had taken its place at the front and soon we would be off.  

There is little to compare with the noise of an engine, whatever size, chuff, chuffing its way out of a station.  People who dislike train travel who come across such an event will be unable to pass without watching as the iron monster belches out steam from far too many parts and slowly noises its way up the track.

The leaving of Edinburgh heading west or north takes the train through the garden’s underneath Edinburgh castle high above.  Those sunbathing, for a few weeks of the year only, would watch the clouds of white steam rise as each train puffed its way along.  Then would come the short, dark, tunnels, always an engine driver’s delight as he was engulfed in the steam alongside any watery drips falling from above, tunnels always have drips falling from above.  The two dark tunnels, lit by dim lights at regular intervals, wound under Edinburgh taking us quickly to Haymarket station where the populace filled the time while waiting for their train by discussing the latest design for renovation of the site above. 

They are still discussing this today!

Trips in the sun by steam train were always special for a child.  He has no understanding of the problems around him, except the shortage of sweets to gobble on the way.  He does not comprehend the effort of the fireman stoking tons of coal into the fire, expertly keeping the pressure correct enabling the driver to work the steam power.  Real men’s work in those days. Today, some lines that run occasional steam trains often have two firemen to fire the boiler.  Even these men are not strong enough to work single handed on some tough lines as in the days of steam.  Just how strong was a fireman on any such engine?

The railway headed west until the outer reaches of Edinburgh, soon after turning towards the north, leaving the main line to run on towards Glasgow, we looked for the lights at Turnhouse airport, always hoping unsuccessfully to see aircraft come and go, very different today of course.  Fields full of green crops, sheep or indifferent cattle passed by and usually without stopping at Dalmeny we raced over the vast cantilever bridge that crosses the Firth of Forth.  

 

The ‘Forth Bridge,’ never to be called the ‘Forth Rail Bridge’ by anyone born within Scotland, is one of Scotland’s greatest feats of engineering.  Of course, few Scots actually built it, but we will ignore that little problem.  Erected in such a manner as to ensure it would not collapse in a storm as had the Tay Bridge not long before when the centre girders collapsed in a violent storm taking a train and its contents with it.  The engineers were not going to risk that and so far no storm has endangered the bridge.  The only danger came from down south when a proposal to close the bridge to save the cost of painting it constantly. Typical southern thoughts.  Now, to save money, the bridge wears a new coat of paint that will last 25 years – they say! 

From the bridge we would look down on many light blueish grey Royal Navy ships lined up on both sides of the Forth, part of the fleet based at Rosyth.  Further upriver at Grangemouth more blue grey ships were based, and under the centre of the bridge on Inchgarvie fortifications that once defended the port lay deserted but enticing to every young lad on the train high above.

The rocky outcrop at North Queensferry soon opens up on the right-hand side of the train to a view of the bay beyond.  Here, throughout the 50s and well into the 60’s it was possible to see the shipbreaker's yard.  Always two large ex-Royal Navy ships lay together, large chunks cut out as Britain’s huge war effort was diminished to fit in with her more realistic political position.  Navy ships no longer stand there but the yard still exists, work permitting.

Then it is on past Inverkeithing, slamming doors, cries from the porters, sailors abounding leaving and arriving, and onwards into Fife.  Again, fields of cattle and sheep, many gardens featuring huts that once were railway trucks, a sight rarely seen today.  How long these had been in situ it was difficult to tell, nor was it asked how they had got there.  Also no longer seen was the use made of the land at the side of the tracks.  On many occasion vegetable gardens were seen at the end of small gardens attached to smaller houses. Possibly some of these had been installed during the war and remained until much later British Rail little Hitler’s arrived to end the practice.

Today the view from the train contains more houses than sheep, more roads and cars than cattle, this is in my view, last noted some years ago, less interesting.  Progress I suppose.

The station at Dunfermline Lower was a magnificent building according to my memory, today the Edinburgh platform has seen the waiting rooms and covering shed demolished and replaced by a Scotrail bus shelter.  I hope that has improved since my last visit.  Dunfermline ‘Upper’ has long gone along with the engine sheds and sidings that once sent the clang, clang, clang of railway wagons being shunted across the night sky.  Now recently built overpriced houses fill the space, the only clang coming from pots and pans wives and girlfriends pass over their man’s head.  

 Canmore

Our journey ended at Cowdenbeath, once the ‘Chicago of Fife,’ the centre of the Fife coalfields and home to several coal pits.  In 1851around one thousand souls worked the land around Beath Church, Iron Ore and then Coal were found and by 1914 25,000 folks lived there, most worked the mines.

The house now lived in by my mother’s eldest sister was also the miner’s cottage where they were all born.  Granddad had managed to get through three wives and ten children, only one child of whom did not survive. That meant after my grandmother died, in childbirth like the others, granddad had a two roomed house, a kitchen attached at the rear with a tap, an outside toilet and nine children!  Not uncommon for the time, my mother was born in 1915.

The ground behind the house sloped downwards towards the large football ground.  This was built so large as the expectation as for the town to continue growing.  It is claimed some 70,000 could fit in when completed!  Not now!

Next to the football ground entrance stood Pit No 7.  Here my granddad and his sons all found work.  There was no other.  For generations the family had been miners, coal being found in the 1500s in Fife, and they were to be the last generation of miners.  All the boy’s sons were forced to learn a trade, none were allowed to endure what these men had to endure for 50 years!

Behind the house, we rarely went out the front onto the street, lay the path up to the bridge we crossed as we came in.  From here we looked down the embankment at the constant flurry of railway life passing by.  Trains running from Aberdeen to London perhaps, fish trains also passing, leaving behind a stink, many long coal trains, heavy wagons with no brakes, controlled by a guard at the rear, local passenger services running around Fife, goods trains abounded and we waved at each one and never failed to get a response. 

Today there is a much-improved rail service for commuters.  For a while it was pretty dingy.  Many complaints can be heard but few can complain about the view, either from the crossing of the Firth of Forth or the many scenic views when running along the coast towards Kirkcaldy.  Fife is worth looking at, even if they say “If ye sup wi a Fifer, do it with a lang spoon.”

Fruit & Veg...

When I rose this morning, awake but still weary, I checked the online tracking for a delivery coming via 'Hermes Parcels.'  This is not a company with a good reputation.  Placed with them on the 6th it reached the 'local depot' wherever that is, just after midnight on the 8th, Saturday.  Later that morning it claimed to have been 'On its way to the courier'a claim which had disappeared by early this morning and replaced by a claim that the package was 'At the customers local depot' at 23:42 on the 8th and again at 23:49 the same date, eight minutes apart.  This morning, at 9:15 the message changed to 'On its way to the courier' once again, though why this arrived at my inbox almost two hours later I know not.
So I awaited developments while suffering the requirement to sleep, the bug appears to have attacked me again.  The door ajar and my ears awaiting the knock while checking the tracking constantly I expected the van to arrive sometime today.  It has not!  So where is it 'Hermes?'  
Hermes as we all now was the 'messenger of the gods' however fewer people are aware he was also the god of thieves, chancers and those of a questionable disposition (Hello Boris Johnson!).   Maybe the company is well named?  Maybe I do them a disservice?  Maybe they require to improve their tracking system so I know what is going on?
Tomorrow I will be at the museum wishing I was at home asleep.  I canny miss this as too many are already off and as you well know Hermes will claim to deliver when I am away from base.  There is another packet (more spending) that has yet to arrive via a differing courier, I think however that this one has not yet been posted, it is not expensive enough!  That may arrive tomorrow when out also....

When young we often went to Cowdenbeath, where mum was born, and stayed in the miners cottage, now long gone, where she grew up.  My aunt Minnie and uncle Sam remained there living on a slight ridge which gave a wonderful view over Central park, the home of Cowdenbeath F.C. at the bottom of the brae and Pit Number 7, the coal mine where Sam and my mothers three brothers worked all their lives.  In 1851 the Beath area contained around a thousand people, while searching for iron ore they found much more coal and soon the 'Chicago of Fife' bloomed, indeed by 1914 some 25,000 people dwelt there most employed directly or indirectly by the pits.
Now miners world wide have a tendency to fly pigeons.  This occurs in Scotland, Australia, the USA and no doubt elsewhere also, however I suspect this has lessened somewhat with the death of mining and the growth of younger miners with other hobbies.  There were no pigeon lofts that I recall around the back of Chapel Street however Sam and many other miners did spend time growing their own vegetables.  I suppose having spent six months on strike during the General Strike of 1926, a General Strike that saw the support of fellow union members fail after a week or so, miners like Sam and my uncles soon understood, if they did not already, that growing their own way a must.  I suspect they always had done so as miners enjoy the time spent outside in the open air, that is why many took up bird fancying, and the miners of that generation were not all of the type to sit in local pubs or miners clubs though obviously many did.  On one occasion uncle Sam offered me a green tomato, and he was adept at growing these, this was a tomato right at the point of turning red and it tasted delicious, one of the best I have ever had.  Long years ago now but this I have never forgotten.  My dad tried similar but his ground was poor, he was jealous of the men in Fife as they grew an abundance of roses, helped by the local milkmen still using horses you understand, and while he eventually succeeded they were never in his mind as good.  He also spent a lot of time in the garden.  The General Strike left Cowdenbeath bereft for six months, quite how they coped for that length of time is still unclear, I suspect the local Co-op gave a lot on tick, but they did and returned after much strife to lower wages. What many died not knowing was that Winston Churchill, the man who fought 'socialism' during the strike also came to hate and despise the mine owners.  Churchill was at heart a liberal and realised the mine owners cared not a jot for their workers and took against them so much he suggested nationalising the mines!  The Conservative Party did not agree.
Cowdenbeath today is much smaller, neater and contains around 15,000 people and almost no knowledge of coal mining remains. There once was a memorial indicating the spot the old wheel stood over while dropping the cage down to the pit.  I wonder if this still exists as looking at Google Maps there appears to be a leisure centre now stands where Pit No 7 once stood.  It would be a shame to have lost all memory of the reason the town exists.

 
I put up a tomato and end up in Cowdenbeath?  Sometimes I wonder...
Here is a couple of cheap peppers, they say these contain more vitamin 'C' than an orange but I wonder.  There is nothing inside them, the taste is not great, and the yellow one I ate earlier did not cure all my ailments, so maybe it is an exaggeration?

Class?

Pit No 7

I heard a part of a debate the other night concerning class.  

Do the 'working class' still exist?  What class is left?   Is there any class?

In the past class was quite clear, there was the aristocracy at the top of the upper class, a growing middle class, especially during the 19th century, and the rest, at least a third of the nation who were working class.  Those at the top had all the money, all the influence and a real desire to keep it that way.  To ensure they kept it that way they gave out the impression that if you, the working class worked hard you too could reach the top, lies, all lies!

It was certainly true that individuals did climb from the bottom to the top by hard work but these were the minority, for the rest long hours, hard work and poor pay with limited opportunities to change.  There were many efforts to improve the condition of the working class at that time, usually from middle class churches and groups of men working together to support one another whereby carpenters for instance would contribute a few pence a week to the group and receive a small sum in return if sick or unemployed.  These men would gather in a pub once a week and pay their subs and have it recorded in front of everyone.  This explains why so many subs are called the 'Carpenters Arms' or some such name.

The growing middle class of the 19th century saw wealth greatly improve by 1900.  They also saw an increase in snobbery as it became important to mix with those of correct class and be seen to be in the right position, the place where you belonged.  Real class snobbery it seems to me begins with such middle class outlooks at that time.  

This of course continued into the 20th century but times were changing, working men had stronger unions, education was high, almost all men and the majority of women could read and newspapers and trashy books abounded in the way social media and trashy TV do today.  People always prefer the cheap and easy option!   However some claim the Great War eroded much class separation as Lieutenants and Captains, almost always from 'better class' backgrounds got to work in life and death situations with men from the 'lower orders' and a change in attitude was begun.  Harold MacMillan, later to become Prime Minister, was one man influenced by his men.  Always on the left of the party he became member of parliament for Stockton in the north east of England, a place that suffered badly during the depression years.  MacMillan and his wife ran soup kitchens to feed their people at the time and never forgot their suffering.  This explains Upper Class MacMillan's disgust at Lower middle class Thatchers worship of money in spite of the cost to the workers.  The daughter of a shopkeeper who worshipped money was never going to care for the workers.   Ah the lower middle class, the real snobs in society!  The ones who have not quite made it but clutching their 'Daily Express' still think that their hard work ought to get them higher up the social scale, are they right?

 Miners cottages Cowdenbeath

Today I say things are somewhat different.  In spite of the thousand or more foodbanks, the hungry children attending school or the many 'homeless' on the streets we still have the sixth richest country in the world, though Brexit will of course erode that considerably for all but the 'elite' at the top.  

My mother was born in 1915 and brought up in a two roomed miners cottage in Cowdenbeath.  Her mother died in child birth, the third wife grandfather had lost that way, and she shared these two rooms with her dad and the nine children he had produced.  There was no bathroom but they had a tap for water and an outside toilet, a cooker and a 'copper' a boiler for hot water.  The men planted veg in the grounds  to supplant the diet and as miners this gave them the opportunity to spend time outdoors in daylight.  In between they endured six months of the general strike and a few confrontations with police in the High Street.  These men were not troublemakers just men wanting a fair deal.  The authorities opposed this.  It is no wonder both the Independent Labour Party and the Communist Party had a centre in Cowdenbeath! 

Today things have changed.  Where once the 'Pug' pulled the coal trucks across the roadway hindering traffic to the marshalling yards now traffic wardens patrol ensure folks don't block the streets as they visit the supermarket.  Many houses are in good condition, mums house has long since been knocked down and new housing built, and many are no doubt bought by the descendents of Communist and Labour men who fought for equality and a decent wage for so long.

Do the people consider themselves 'working class' as they get in their cars, watch their colour TVs and holiday in the sun?  Are they 'working class?'  Do any work in smelly, noisy factories in overalls?  Or are their factories white , clean, quite places?  

Even the aristocracy is no longer the same.  No longer is a seat in the House of Lords guaranteed,  they keep their money and open their houses, unless offered to the National Trust, to make money.  While they are still well off their position does not have the nation regarding them as 'above us,' except for the readers of the 'Daily Express' and 'Daily Mail' of course.  Their the lower middle class fantasise on joining the aristocracy.  

The merging of the classes is clear even though people still tend to mix with their 'own kind' unless they can find ways of mixing with others.  I did this through the churches and living in London, those who continue to live in small towns, like this one, are slow to mix and merge though the society around them does influence them.  'Class' as it once was is no longer around, the rising economy has seen to that, but there is still 'class' division, especially where the people wish it!

This is rather a jumble of thoughts, what thinkest thou...?

 Warwick Library

Mixed Feelings

Mixed feelings today.  The good side is the deserved victory the Heart of Midlothian obtained by defeating their opponents today by ten goals to nil!  Such an event I have never witnessed in the flesh, a mere five or six goals at one time is as far as I can recall being scored.  History tells us in the days of yore such scores were not uncommon but today they are indeed rare.  The Heart of Midlothian in their present mood were not slow to take advantage of their despairing visitors.  This victory sounds cruel but in the world of football such events must happen, the team at the top must show the killer instinct to defeat this opponent and ensure fear is offered to the next.
I regret not being there in person, but living four hundred miles away, and in abject poverty at that (oh yes I am!), being there is not possible.  Such a victory, even over a part time side with limited resources, is to be relished!  Sadly such sides know before the season starts such an event may occur, yet as always they go out full of hope anyway.  I suspect they will not be too happy tonight however while our young men will be boasting (quietly) of their prowess!  It must be stated their women will I suspect be more interested in 'The Voice' or 'Ant and Dec' and other drivel!

The other side of the situation is that the team we defeated is Cowdenbeath.  I have a soft spot, not the one in my head, for this town.  My mother came from Cowdenbeath and we often visited there, indeed the house was on the hill overlooking Central Park and in days of your the boys would climb up onto the roof to watch the game and save sixpence!   When the ground was open the town was awash with money.  24,000 persons lived there, the vast majority employed in the coal mines that once dominated the area.  My uncles were all miners, and what a tough life they had!  The people running the football team appear to have thought the good times would continue for ever, Cowdenbeath was called the 'Chicago of Fife' and the ground at opening day could they say hold 70,000 people!  Changes to the ground, deterioration, Health and Safety and common sense now limit the crowd to a couple of thousand.  The population might reach 15,000 today and the mines have long since disappeared.

So I am grateful for the victory but I wish it could have been against a more worthy opponent, Hibernian perhaps?  
       

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Sunday

In the many meaningless items found in the UK press today we note that letters and emails that went between Tony Blair and 'Dubya' Bush, mostly from Tony to his boss, these letters appear to be locked away and one in particular is 'lost!' How interesting.  The Chilcot enquiry has been hindered by the refusal of those concerned to hand over these documents and now one is lost, the most important one.
How long before we obtain the evidence that shows Blair followed like a puppy to his owner and sent men to die needlessly in Iraq for a needless invasion? How long before he stands trial as a war criminal? Will this report ever be published?

Good news for Cowdenbeath who defeated close neighbours Dunfermline to ensure their place in the Scottish Championship for next season.  Little Cowdenbeath, population around 12,000, have as a part time side managed miracles to stay in the division.  My late mother, who was born in a miners cottage that overlooked Central Park, would be proud.  As a child she used to scramble into the ground by use of holes under the fence, I suspect these may still exist.  Her brothers often clambered up onto the roof so they could watch from a distance - for free, sixpence then was a lot of money for a miner!  

The European elections take place on Thursday.  This is the day we elect yet another goldigger as they fly off to line their pockets and disappear into obscurity.  Which waste of space to elect?  No idea!  I don't want any standing in this area, they are all bad.  What a depressing situation.  Interesting to note that the 'Daily mail' as well as other Tory papers continue to inform us of the latest UKIP loony.  They do not offer the Conservative policy, just point to others faults, what does that tell us eh?  

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Zonked.....

So here is a picture of Cowdenbeath.....

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Tawse

There was an interesting discussion with a couple of chaps who visited the museum today.  Like many visitors the visit took a couple of hours to wander about, getting involved in some of the displays.  One, became interested in the Victorian death rituals, the black crape made by Courtauld's being a massive seller in those days, and the other being a recently retired teacher found the Victorian classroom interesting and talk got round to the use of 'the cane.'  In England the cane was much used to install discipline into recalcitrant brats, and in public schools possibly to train them for high office and oskuokuhyl&$fhs£njhjuvfdevgtlcdo (censored by the editor).  Anyway the ex-teacher informed us he had only once used such an implement and did not desire to do so again.  My first thought was that he was not in one of the rougher areas of this world!  He clearly was a decent man and most probably a good teacher and I recalled the best teachers we had were men who cared for the lads and used the belt very hard!  The 'Lochgelly Tawse,' so called because they were manufactured in the Fife resort of Lochgelly, (the term 'resort' is not to be taken at face value)  and was used instead of a cane by all Scots teachers.  As I said the better teachers used it and used it well and we liked them a lot in spite of this! We ended up as dumb as we began but some teachers stick in the memory for their efforts.  The belt ended its days after a woman in Cowdenbeath, just round the corner from Lochgelly, claimed some sort of human rights injunction after her adolescent son suffered six of the best for his misdemeanours.  The court ruled in her favour and indiscipline has ruled the nation ever since! While many can learn with discipline based on other means there is a hard core who will never change, the vast number of pupils banned from classes proves this.  The use of the belt enabled control and allowed teaching to continue, even the brat blowing on his hands could still learn, no need for separate tuition!  On the rare occasion the teachers unjustly offered me the opportunity to receive this tawse my loving parents, if they knew about this, would ask "What had I done?" Once informed the attitude was "That served you right!"  If only they had met that woman from Cowdenbeath and her delinquent, advice on child rearing was available for free!  I wonder how the mannie who made these straps survived the loss of earnings, did she ever think of that I wonder? 

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Cowdenbeath and the Black Diamonds

Fife-Scotland

Around about 1967 time I passed through a small town in Fife by bus, while visiting relatives there. Through the smeared bus window I saw a group of retired men waiting at the bus stop opposite. Sunday best suits, three piece and with watch chain hanging from the waistcoat pocket, best flat caps, shoes polished, and under female orders to "Behave yourself!"  Most notable however was the fact that none of them were standing up, they were all crouched down, as if dodging a sniper in the houses behind them.  These were retired miners.   Men who had worked down the pit since boyhood, probably beginning as 13 year old boys during the Great War,  and progressing to the pit face, digging for coal with pick and shovel in tunnels so low that they could not stand upright.  This meant that stopping for their 'piece,'  they had to crouch.   Now here they were, all well passed retirement age, more comfortable crouching than standing for any period of time.

All my uncles in the Kingdom of Fife worked down the pit, they had to, there was nothing else!  Like those men at the bus stop, probably they would have known some of them, from the time of the first world war they joined their dads and uncles, being 'Knocked up' at five in the morning to walk down to the mine for a shift.  When they got to the coal face the pick and shovel method was used to cut the coal,  often lying on their side in a seam two feet high,  then piling the hewn coal into the 'Hutch,' a small, wheeled truck, that was tagged with their name and sent by human means or pit pony, to the top.  Those two or feet high shafts would contain a straining miner in a badly lit, dust filled, dangerous workplace.  Before lamps there would be candles, and possibly a canary or two as a warning for gas.  Some miners preferred rats for this as they were quicker to warn of any build up of gas down the pit.  

These coal seams would be 70 - 100 fathoms or more deep into the ground. (approx. 6 feet to a fathom).  To get there a slow ride on a lift, and then a walk, possibly of some miles to the pit face.    As a miner entered the cage for the rickety journey down he handed over his token.   This token identified him by his number and the pit number also, and indicated he had gone down the mine. This was used in case of accidents to keep track of missing men.  Even when mines operated in recent days accidents were possible and occasionally a small fall of rock may trap one miner or more.  It was also imperative to keep down coal dust by spraying it constantly as any explosion, usually caused by methane gas, would cause this dust to ignite. Smoking also was banned and only a fool would attempt this. In the late 50's several were killed in one mine and the reason, disowned by the union, but clearly identified, was a miner who had been found with cigarettes and matches on his body after an explosion.  Several were killed that day.   Smoking was never allowed underground and ought to have been handed over for safe keeping as he entered the cage.  There had been a collapse at one mine not from from where my mother was born killing several men as the earth caved in upon them, and there was always the danger caused by a runaway 'hutch,' one of which killed a man at the 'Moss-side' pit the day of my mothers birth in 1915.  In 1974 when working in the infirmary we had three miners brought in and different times that year with injuries caused by small accidents.  A wagon toppled over on one, the roof collapsed on another, small individual situations, and this in a modern mine in operation until Thatcher closed it down.  Imagine the conditions in the 20's?  Death or injury was a part of life to the miner. 

Pit No.7 Token

The Kingdom of Fife has many attractive little fishing villages adorning the coast.  Towards the North East we find the ancient University town of St Andrews and alongside we find the world famous golf course that is indeed the home of golf.  Falkland Palace was once home to the great of the land, and Culross (pronounced Kooross) on the Firth of Forth is considered one of the most attractive ancient wee towns in the nation. Under the town, and indeed the central region of Fife lay 'black diamonds,' coal!  During the nineteenth century the mainly agricultural rural scene was to become transformed, and not much beautified, by the rush to dig for those 'black diamonds.'

It was under Culross much earlier than the nineteenth century that mining for coal began. People had been using the black stones found on the south coast of Fife for some time but when there was a shortage of wood in the sixteen hundreds that other sources of fuel were required.  Then a man of brilliance, a Scot naturally, began to mine coal in an industrial fashion. The trees were required for ships, both military and merchant, house building and other uses requiring wood, and it was this that caused  Sir George Bruce  to take action.  Having been born nearby the Forth he well knew of the availability of coal and late in the 16th century he began to tunnel down beneath the Firth of Forth in an effort to obtain his prize.  The shaft extended well under the Firth and over two hundred feet offshore he then built a shaft down through the water and into the coal seam.  This allowed air into the mine and by an ingenious use of a horse powered lift he raised the coal above the sea and loaded it straight onto ships. When King James the VI visited in 1617 he was astonished as he looked up the vent taking coal up to top, that the water was above him!  He began to believe he had been brought down there to be killed (Kings are always somewhat paranoid about this) and it was Sir George who calmed him by pointing out the boat and indicating he could return that way or by walking back up the tunnel shaft.  James wisely took the boat!

Sir George's Big Hoose

However successful this operation it was the industrial revolution in the nineteenth century when coal mining arrived in Fife big time.  In their search for iron ore the 'Oakley Iron Company' came to the vicinity of Cowdenbeath and discovered more coal than iron ore.  Almost overnight it appears pits (the mine is always called a 'Pit,' in Scotland) were sunk. The sleepy farms of the area which had for many years been slowly evolving into a single village, began to turn into a bustling coal town!  Instead of drudgery for little pay as a farm labourer many turned to the drudgery underground for higher pay, with much more danger.  The population, probably less than two hundred in 1800, reached around eight thousand by the end of the century!   By nineteen fifteen, when my mother entered the world there, the population was nearer twenty five thousand!  With a growing population arriving to seek work in the thirty or so pits in the area, plus the subsidiary work which follows, the town became known as the 'Chicago of Fife!'  Indeed it can be quite windy in Fife also.

Winding Gear Pit No.7.

Home life was not without problems also for the miner at the turn of the century. Families were often large and childbirth was an unhealthy experience for many women.  My Grandfather moved to Cowdenbeath because work was available 'down the pit.'  He had three wives in his life.  His first gave birth to two girls who lived well into their eighties, and two boys both of whom died within a year.  She died in childbirth herself.  The second died a month after the birth of her third child and the last, my grandmother, lasted four months after the birth of her fourth.  Three wives and nine children!  Typical of Scots working class life at the turn of the century.  To be honest large families were found in all classes,  Queen Victoria herself had nine!  The death of wives in labour and children, the child usually before five years of age, was a regular occurrence in the UK well into the twentieth century.  Cemeteries give an indication of the number of the 'better off' who died young, how many of the 'Lower orders' suffered this way?  Indeed only the introduction of the NHS ended the insufficiency of medical aid at childbirth, and as one of my nieces could tell you even today that can be a hazardous event.

My Grandfather and all his sons went 'down the pit.' There was no other choice! At one time or another they all worked at Pit No 7 which stood at the bottom of the slope from Chapel Street where their two roomed miners cottage lay.  Just imagine ten people living in two rooms!  There was no showers at the mines in those days and when the men came home from work they washed in a bath in front of the fire, slowly heated, or more usually, at the sink where someone, usually their sisters, would rub their backs clean for them.   I think I am right in saying the bath was only added after the war!

The working and living conditions increased peoples desire for a better environment to live and work in. Cowdenbeath soon became a centre of both the Independent Labour Party  and the Communist Party, indeed the town chose Willie Gallagher, a Communist, as their MP and sent him off to the House of Commons!  Later Jennie Lee of the ILP made it to Edinburgh University and became a member of Harold Wilson's Labour government in 1964. She also managed to marry Aneurin Bevan, the man responsible for the introduction of the NHS, and  she herself was influential in the creation of the 'Open University.'

The General Strike of 1926 hit Cowdenbeath badly. For six months the town remained on strike for better pay. Just imagine the suffering for an entire town, a suffering repeated in all mining districts throughout the UK that year.  For over a week all other unions offered support but soon this petered out the miners were alone.  This was not a strike based on greed, it was for a decent, indeed 'living wage!'  The mine owners were incredibly greedy, selfish men.  When some claimed the miners were 'revolutionaries' King George V himself suggested people try living on the miners wage before saying such things.  Winston Churchill, hated to this day by miners who felt he broke the strike, in fact wanted to give them satisfaction!  He quickly came to hate and despise the mine owners for their selfish attitude and went so far as to suggest nationalising the mines!  This however was not possible for a Conservative government, Churchill did not forget the mine owners attitude and in 1950 when he returned to power he made no effort to scrap the now nationalised mines.  Protests at the treatment of the miners by the owners, their conditions and dangers, ran on for many years.  This often caused riots in Cowdenbeath's High Street.  Many's a head was broken by a police force sent in by a right wing government to end the dangers of 'socialism.'  The conditions were never mentioned.
  
The shared sufferings among miners produced a shared care.  Down a mine if an incident arises, possibly a fall of coal, or an accident, the nearest man will be the first into action to help you.  It does not matter if he is your greatest enemy, if there is a problem he will reach out to you, and you will reach out to him. That is just how it is.  Agape in action, although they probably would not know this.  As a child I always enjoyed the miners company, although the last pit closed in 1960 before I ever got the chance to go down and look around.  I think I would have been terrified to work down there, even when the conditions were much safer in the fifties.  It is noticeable that men of the day made it clear to their sons that they had to get a trade of some kind to avoid working down below. None of my cousins went down the pit, all learned a trade and 'bettered themselves.'  One who did likewise was Sir James Whyte Black.  Though born in Lanarkshire to a mining engineer he was reared at  Cowdenbeath and attended 'Beath High School.'  From there this promising young man went on to St Andrews University Medical School, then to Dundee, and his studies later enabled him to produce what is now known as the 'Beta Blocker.'

Dennis Canavan and Harry Ewing both became members of parliament, and Jim Baxter was to become one of the most gifted footballers Scotland has ever produced. Baxter earned fame for his passing ability, his ability to drink himself unconscious on a Friday before a match and still outplay everyone, and playing 'Keepie uppie' with the ball while making a fool of an England side that claimed (wrongly) the title 'World Champions' in 1967. It is clear that he was talented, it was also clear he was not the brightest!  The school itself had to be replaced as by the time these pupils attended the ground floor had sunk deep into the ground!  Subsidence caused by mine working beneath gave the school a basement!  Houses in the town were seen to lean to one side, and trains moved at a snails place while the mines operated.  In spite of all this a long list of pupils left that school in a mining backwater and rose to the highest office worldwide both in politics and business.  

The Pug

By 1960 Pit No 7 had closed. The coal rush was at an end.  No more would the 'pug' pull the coal wagons across the Main Street to the marshalling yards, an event I can remember watching at least once, no more will the miners get knocked up at five in the morning to waken them for a day's work, and no more (we hope) will the mine workings produce subsidence in all the wrong places!   Many talk romantically of the miners of past days.  There were many good people there.  No person should ever go through the difficulties the miners endured in the first half of the twentieth century again.  Be romantic about the men and women who lived there indeed, just don't let it happen again.

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Steam Trains

What an image!

Who can fail to be impressed when a steam train comes hurtling along the line? A living machine, full of character and with sounds and smells that cannot be forgotten. A steam train is an experience, an event, not just a machine to get people from one place to another!

Many more pictures here for people with a heart! Free Foto Preserved Rail



Is that not fantastic? I was never one of those anoraks who stood there with a notebook taking down the train numbers, that never crossed my little mind. However when in Cowdenbeath or Dunfermline I would hang around the station, there was nothing else to do, and watch the trains go by. In Cowdenbeath we were at the bridge and down below would thunder expresses from Aberdeen to all points south, goods trains with dozens of trucks, and a wide variety of local services, also the coal trains coming from the many pits around there. Marvellous to see and, being young, every driver and his mate responded to our waving! Just like our arrival at Waverley Station, we would offer the drivers sweets and it was never known for them to refuse! It was possible on occasions to see a queue waiting to feed the driver, and they always accepted. They must have had rotten teeth!



This is the famous 'Mallard' on one of it's 'special' runs. It will never again reach the fastest speed but still holds the world record. Gresley, the designer, produced several of these 'streamlined Pacific's' and I was once drawn back to Edinburgh from Cowdenbeath behind one of these, possibly 'The Union of South Africa' which did indeed run up to Aberdeen. It was twilight as the train entered the station and in the distance it looked great. However by the time it reached the platform and I heard the noise and saw the red hot cinders leap out the chimney at the front I took fright and ran behind everybody and hid! I was a bit younger then......