An Escape from the House and to Sudbury by Rail

 

 

On Thursday, my best looking, most intelligent and highly talented niece, called me to a meet.  This meant heading for Sudbury.  For reasons unknown she and him were spending a week at Bury St Edmunds and wished to see me.  Having not met for well over 18 months and with her expecting in September it was important to meet now, but how?  He does not drive, I have no car, and no bus runs between here and there (Thank you Mrs Thatcher!).   After much thought and confusion, a reading of timetables, still a difficult operation, in the end they caught a bus to Sudbury and I took the train.  I still pray for the maroon Landrover to arrive, still waiting...

Train travel as you know, is a simple matter of taking the train to Witham, changing, travelling two stops to Marks Tey, changing into the one grubby coach, travelling three stops to Sudbury.  Easy.

 

So, rising before dawn, I shuffled down the slope to the station early, just to ensure I got a ticket from the man and did not have to use the complicated machine.  I was able to make use of my 'Railcard' and get some money off the cost.  First time in two years I think.  The night before I checked the 'Greater Anglia' website and looked at the various prices.  If I set a time the journey cost it £10:60.  If I had an 'open return,' the cost was £16:50.  At the station in the morning I paid £11:05, no wonder the rail staff are confused about ticket prices today?  I chatted to a gran showing the child the railway and soon I was aboard the high speed express, 30 mph at times, heading south.

 

 

Easy?

Naturally, at Witham confusion reigned!

The signals had failed between here and Marks Tey, two stops of trouble!  In this picture you see the Norwich train awaiting instruction in the loop, on the right the Ipswich train also awaits while behind us, as seen in the previous foto another Norwich train arrives  These usually have at least 30 minutes between them.  The two railway employees were doing wonders in the situation as every passenger (sorry, customer) had the same question and the poor lads had no answers.    

Quicker than expected the 'all clear' was given, instructions announced, and I now had to clamber up stairs and down to catch the Ipswich service as that was now going to stop at Marks Tey, if the driver remembered.  Apart from my knee giving way and almost falling down, a workman reached out his hand to stop me, there were no more mishaps and the destination was reached.

Indeed the passengers, like the workman, were mostly pleasent to one another in this confusion, no blame being attached to the workers either.

 

 

At Marks Tey the change was simple, the platforms merging into one another.  Much to my surprise the grubby coach no longer runs, replaced during LockDown by this glamerous three coach set.  Very nice indeed I must say.

 

While many travelling had been affected by the short disruption there was a healthy use of this train, clearly much used during commuter hours for those travelling to London or in the other direction towards Ipswich.  

Having not been anywhere for so long it was good to view the acres of green fields with early crops beginning to show through.  Occasional cattle, small villages with houses priced so high no pleb will be moving there anytime soon, a church spire here, a tower there, trees and bushes lining the track, something not allowed in days of steam.  Altogether a bright day with a colourful landscape, such a change from being indoors.  The recent weather harming the windows prevented any chance of a picture from the train, this one does not see the washing machines daily obviously.  So far, an enjoyable and 'interesting' day out.

 

I was quite surprised to see my niece, young attractive, slim, as I half expected to see a bell tent on legs, but it is far too soon for that, maybe August.  James, her owner, looked as expected, balding more I noticed, come Christmas what he has left, may well be pulled out of course.  

Here we have one of life's mysteries.  How come and attractive talented young woman in London cannot find a rich man?  How come she ended up with a hill walking university librarian as opposed to a rich man with a yacht in the Med?  

I will never understand women, and James has probably found he will never understand them either to his cost!

 

 

'Sudbury,' meaning 'South of Bury,' has been around since Saxon times, the twice weekly market, which was busy when we passed by, itself being over a thousand years old.  The town became wealthy in the days of long ago through the Flemish weavers who flooded into East Anglia, many sheep in the area and judging by the size of the ancient 'Corn Hall,' now used as a library, there was great money in agriculture also.

 

 

Certainly some people made a great deal of money in times past but looking up house prices I find Sudbury to be considerably cheaper than this area.  These house on Gainsborough Road maybe no more than £350,000.  You can of course pay a million nearby if you wish but round here these would add a hundred thousand to the price.  There is still a great deal of money in Suffolk but being further from London may keep prices down.

 

We found a cafe for tea and cake and a chance to natter, more about the cafe later, and wandered back and forth along the main street, there not being much else to see.  There was limited time as even on holiday my niece chose to follow up on her piano teaching work, money makes demands, and had to return for a certain time to their high class lodgings.  I hope the tent was dry.  

Sudbury is a small Bury St Edmunds with a mains street, a big church, no longer used, indeed it has three medieval churches and a famous archbishiop called Simon Sudbury.  He had arranged for a Leper hospital to the north of the town and has also come up with the idea of the Poll Tax.  This however, in 1381, did not go down well with the natives.  They collected him from the Tower of London, took him somewhat unwillingly to Tower Hill and chopped his head off, eventually, as it took 7 or 8 strokes.  Some 'Brass Neck' on an Archbishop.  Why did we not do this with Maggie when she had the same idea?  Simon's body was buried in Canterbury but his head remains in St Gregory's Church, Sudbury.  Maybe we ought to have gone and had a look?

We wandered past Gainsborough's House, he was not in as the workmen were renovating it.  Famous as a landscape and portrait painter a statue was erected in 1903 to commemorate the man, long after he was dead you note.   At the OU I had to comment on one of his pictures, that of Mr & Mrs Andrews of around 1748.  It was said he wanted a landscape and they a portrait, whether this is true or not it is fact that he had his landscape and put them at the side of it.  Very well done.

 

In amongst the wealth of weaving, agriculture and the vast array of vehicular traffic the townspeople, all 14,000 of them struggle to survive like the rest of us.  I wonder what proportion take the early train to Ipswich or London?

Too soon in my opinion came time to depart.  Parting is such sweet sorrow, well no, it isn't!  I was enjoying them, James is a great man and will fit in this deranged family very weel, he comes from Burnley you see.  Burnley, it is a place up north, I believe they call it 'Blackburn's little brother,' but I will have to check that.  They clambered aboard the bus that took them round all the houses and through the suitably named 'Long Melford,' another place well worth a visit if you ever venture up that way, and I hurried to the station to catch the train that would be soon to depart wiping away tears from my eye.

 

Naturally, I had read the timetable wrong, it was not 46 mins past but 26!   

This meant a wait in the sun, which was fine by me.  This short platform here is extremely well kept, I wonder if volunteers do this rather than staff?  I suspect that as there are no permanent staff it is indeed a voluntary job, well doen to them!  Neat and tidy with a background of varied plants it is a welcome resting place for the traveller.

Not only do the birds get a home made for them...

So do the bees...

Wildlife must flourish in such circumstances, here's another enjoying life here.

 

 

It once was common for railways stations to be a gardeners delight.  Dunbar I believe still is, and many others have some attempt at improving the environment.  Staff themselves probably have less time today, certainly at bigger stations, and in such places the public may be less concerned with the surroundings.  I consider Sudbury Station a wee treasure.  Awaiting a train in the sun is a delight when birds sing in the trees, creatures move around amongs the flora opposite and you know people appreciate the surroundings.

On time as always the 335 arrives and soon we were heading home.  On the way the conductor (what we used to call 'guard') chatted amiably.  Ian, his name, explained the difficulties of his job re ticket pricing.  So many railcards (Indeed, I counted 28 on the website) some of course only for certain parts of the country, all making Ian's job difficult.  On this train the conductor collects fares, no ticket booth at such stations, add to this a crowded train, a short journey and the mad rush you could see how he enjoyed this late, quiet, shift.  It is not unusual to find rail staff friendly on the quieter lines.

We sauntered across the famous Chappel Viaduct, some 32 spans made from around 7 million bricks. Completed in 1849 it reveals why so many young men became bricklayers.  A 'Brickies' life, or indeed a Bricklayers assistants life, in Victorian days was one of constant work.  Railways required bridges, buildings and a wide variety of other constructions.  A great housebuilding increase saw towns spread out and follow rail lines, no wonder there are so many 'Bricklayers Arms' to be found in the nation.  It was at such pubs that men would gather once a week and pay their 'subs.'  Usually a sixpence would cover it, if they fell ill or were injured they could then draw a few shillings a week to keep them alive, hence the pubs took their name.  Just imagine how many bricks are in the buildings around you now, Victorian made and still doing their job.

 

By now my feet as well as my knees were telling me to go home.  Naturally, at the modern Marks Tey Station to cross the line you use the stairs.  I have my own opinion on stairs.  This modern station has no lift!  How do you cross in a wheelchair?  I captured this train arriving, to slow to rush down, and allowed it to depart knowing another would be along soon enough.  I then clambered up another flight to the coffee shop in the main entrance only to find it closed because of Covid!  

I was pleased.

So I waited in the shelter as Norwich trains raced by, on time now, and the Liverpool Street from Norwich rushed the other way.  Why do I find such things entrancing?  I just wish they were steam!

Every station has a numpty taking pictures of trains, some staff object, others don't care.  Here a dirty look from the far side from someone, possibly not working on the railway, failed to discourage me.  I was Thursdays train numpty.  How I was enjoying being allowed out!  

I note nobody else was enjoying me being out however.

 

 

I clambered up the stair at Witham muttering many things unfit for this gentle blog, I muttered much more when at the top I remembered they do have lifts at WithamI  So I descended gracefully by the lift to the platform.  By the time I reached the end of the busy station the train arrived.   The short sun filled wait at quiet Marks Tey being better than a longer wait at this now busy place.

 

Soon I was hobbling up the Hill, a hill I used to refer to as a slope.  Once I hardly noticed the slope, now I trudged on feeling like I was in the Cairngorms and not Essex.  This was made worse by realizing  I had failed to take anything from the freezer last night and now, for some reason being hungry, I was forced to trudge round Tesco and struggle home with a bag of ready to cook pasta.  Another staircase, a fight with an oven, a burnt pasta mess, tastless, burnt, but all eaten no matter what, and bed with a very  stiff drink to stop me from calling an ambulance.  Totally whacked, soon out for the count.

Today's breakfast... 

 

I must say I was really glad I saw them. 

 

East Anglian Railway Museum

What better way to tire yourself out than to wander round a railway yard!  In fact what appeared at first sight to be a small railway sidings became larger with each turn that appeared.  A siding here a building to visit there, in the end I was pooped!  A wonderful display of static railway stock, most of course concerned with East Anglia and the Great Eastern Railway, but not all.
This 'heritage Railway' arose in the years after Dr Beeching's famous report that closed hundreds of what he claimed were loss making lines throughout the UK. The lines around this one were closing and by 1970 is was intended to end the Marks Tey to Sudbury line and the station at 'Chappel and Wakes Colne' was leased in 1970.  By 1986 the site became fully operational as a museum. However the line to Sudbury did not close and plans to run trains was abandoned as the line refused to die! One train of two coaches runs back and forth at hourly intervals to this day and very useful it is too!  This is very much a working museum in which visitors can walk through the shops where coaches and engines undergo renovation.  On 'operating days' engines run on the short line using diesel or steam as available.   Also a miniature railway operates and other attractions for adults and kids are on offer. 

 

   
The signal box allows the chance to operate the levers, heavy enough when not connected to anything, imagine if working daily on these?  Almost everything in the past involving physical labour appears to have been designed to increase the heart rate.  The station offices have been returned, if they ever left it, to a time when such lines were common throughout the nation.  Railways had a place for many people until the arrival of the cheap bus after the first world war. These buses ran up to the door, or near enough in small villages thus taking away the long walk to the nearest station.  Goods traffic however continued for many years after that in spite of the abundance of ex-army lorries on the streets.

The man in the signal box had a somewhat lonely existence some think but the responsibility was great. One mistake and it could lead to two trains meeting unexpectedly!  This line, quiet today, was however carrying passengers and goods for some distance there fore it could be very busy.  The man in the box was however kept warm and fed by the heating and cooking arrangements provided.  Coal on offer from passing engines and water from many sources.  A pub stood outside the gate at the time so he was well cared for!

The station master had an office to himself with a much better fire than that in the signalbox, as indeed he would have said it ought to be.  Working on the railways was a job for life then and well worth it as a good pension was on offer. Families would follow on for generations on the railway, throughout the land they would be loyal to their company.  Here it was the GER, Great Eastern railway, and like the others everything was embossed with their name.   Shame about the old queen mind.  Or is that paper boy just late?

The waiting rooms were decent enough in those days of yore but why were the ticket offices always seen through a small opening?  I remember Edinburgh Waverley also having large brown wooden ticket offices approached behind a barrier with only a small opening to speak through, not that I ever did, that's what dad's are for.  The GER have an opening only a foot high and a couple of inches for allowing cash to pass through.  Were they so scared of robbery or tantrums from passengers then I wonder?  I admit they remain behind glass today but at least you can see them!

Like most such places the EARM attempts to save items that no longer run on the lines.  The rusty green train is the last of those electric trains that carried millions of commuters in days of old.  One day it will be restored to its finest livery.  Sugar beet was a large part of agricultural output in this region and this wagon reflects the sights often noticed on the lines in the sugar beet heyday.  

These coaches provide adequate comfort, better than some today and the first class had the luxury no longer on offer of a compartment, often to oneself!  How the rich lived, kept apart from the peasants.  

It became the thing for disused coaches to be turned into camping holidays for many.  These died out during the 60's but some are still available in coastal regions.  While the coach looks a bit austere today many folks came from homes a lot less luxurious than an ex-railway coach turned into a tidy sleeping area.  I like the idea and would try one if I were rich enough.  In the past many old railway wagons could be seen in gardens used as huts, sometimes old coaches also.  This appears to happen less today possibly because of the reuse of materials and a stricter control of the staff!

Onwards through the crossing gates, past the shunter 'John Peel' into the shed where engines, coaches and anything else is restored to pristine condition.  I will save you the technical details and I don't understand them.  If I get involved in anything technical it breaks so I move on.  The greenish bulk in front is a railbus undergoing slow restoration.  One day this will transport folks on the short line, one day. 



 

The renovation of tank engine No 11 shows how efficient the workers are. Some of these men, mostly retired, have been working here for forty years.  Friendly, enthusiastic and highly efficient they all appear to enjoy their work.  You can see 'Thomas the Tank Engine,' a must in all such places, being worked on at the rear.  The Reverend Wilbert Awdry who wrote the original books understood how railways worked and his books always kept to railway procedure.  Once he, or his descendent's sold out to the BBC the stories were not always as accurate as they ought to be. 

Ah the days when milk was transported by such containers and dropped off at each station.  Tesco would bring it back if it was cheaper!  The cattle trucks are used less today, except when football specials are on order.

The variety of equipment, all operational or soon to be operational, is fantastic.

The view from the small office once used by the man in charge of coal is delightful, when it doesn't rain. He would be charged with caring for the income and outgoings of all coal deliveries, and probably others also.  Coal was used by industry and home until the late sixties and it is hard to imagine the stour hanging over the streets darkening the houses when all and sundry lit their fires. The first page or two of Charles Dickens 'Bleak House' shows the effect of rain mixed with chimney smoke as folks moved about London in his day.  Worth reading just that page.  Edinburgh was not called 'Auld Reekie' for nothing and I remember the blackened buildings showing the effects of a society dominated by smoke!  It is unusual now to see smoke coming from a chimney and the smell is somewhat romantic, even though it chokes you.

Fancy driving an electric train?  This heritage centre does offer the chance to drive a steam engine on occasions.  I just mention this when you are next wondering what to do with your charity money....

And where do you go to after a hard days work?  The pub, well the English working man does anyway.

And after that...?

That was a great day out!  This is a well run operation with many good plans for the future.  Many attractions are planned and hoped for to attract people to see their heritage, know and understand their history and have a good time also.  Good people with a lot of care for their past and much to tell the generation today.

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