The Day To Remember

Today is the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month.

It is the day when we in the UK remember those who have lost their lives in the service of our nation.

At Eleven O’Clock the country and indeed the Commonwealth will pause in silent tribute and remembrance.

This year is the Centenary of the beginning of World War One and following our visit to the Somme battlefields in April I really feel a strong connection, that perhaps I didn’t previously.

I have always firmly believed in the need to remember the sacrifices made, but after the experience walking in the footsteps of my two Grandfathers… well lets just say it’s now much more personal. That trip changed a lot of my view of what is and is not important in life.

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So just a little favour to ask…

Today, at Eleven o’clock this morning, please stop from whatever you are doing and just take two minutes to silently Remember. No fuss, just Remember and be grateful that you are free to do so.

Thanks.

Dookes

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Testing! Testing!

As regular blog followers will know, I’ve been banging on for some time about how nice the new “Project Rushmore” Harley Davidson touring motorcycles are.

‘Very,’ is a word that seems to comes to mind.

One slight problem… I’ve blathered on about the bikes, but had yet to ride one.

Driving home across a foggy Bodmin Moor last Tuesday, the hands free phone in my car burst into life with a call from Kevin Tomlinson at Plymouth Harley Davidson. I pulled over into a convenient lay by and Kevin told me that the Dealership had just taken delivery of a new Electra-Glide Ultra Limited Low model, it was road ready and would I like to test ride it?

Does Pinocchio have balsa bollocks?

Dead right I’d like to ride it!

Arriving at the Dealership this morning, I reported to Salesman Tim Williams, filled in the requisite paperwork and was led to a gleaming Ultra Limited Low.
“Feeling excited?” asked Kirk, the Service Manager.
“Nah!” I lied. “It’s just another bike.” Oh boy, I was telling whoppers!

I could hardly wait to get out on the road.

Tim took me through the niceties of the ‘Low’ as the engine warmed up.

imageThis baby had only four miles on the clock and was absolutely pristine, literally just out of the box!

I threw my leg over the saddle, kicked in first gear, let out the clutch and off we went. As I moved onto the A38 and headed West my first thought, “This bike feels…lovely!”

True, the machine was new and understandably a bit stiff, but she was throttle responsive and rode beautifully. I headed towards Dookes H.Q. on roads I know well and which would give me a good comparison to my beloved Softail.

As the miles rolled by, I became more and more impressed with the lovely machine that I was riding. On the twisties, she was nice and stiff; the front end stayed true to the road, though I wasn’t trying anything extravagant as the tyres were brand new as well! Throttle response was more than impressive, it was bloomin’ amazing! This is a big bike weighing in at nearly 400kg, but it felt light and crisp.

After covering about fifty miles I thought it would be good to pull over, take a breather and evaluate this neat machine.

Now just a word to explain this “Low” tag that Harley Davidson have given the model. The bike is based on the standard Electra-Glide Ultra Limited, but to make it more attractive to, shall we say more ‘vertically challenged’ riders, a number of modifications have been applied. The suspension has been lowered and likewise the seat has also been modified to lower the riding position, all this making the machine about 55mm lower than it’s bigger stablemate. The handlebar has also been moved back, to allow for shorter arms and the grips are a tad thinner, actually H-D have just simply omitted the heated grips which is a bit of a cheat in my view. The primary drive cover has also been slimmed down, which begs to question why on the standard size machine it has to be so big? Unless of course the ‘Low’ has something different inside there that I don’t know about.

So what do I think of it?image

Well, for me it’s a tad small, which might seem a bit bonkers for such a big bike!  The low seat modifications push my knees a bit high and it all makes things quite cramped around the foot controls. The close handlebar is just that for me, too close. In addition, the low seat has less padding and these days so does the Dookes derrière, which made it a tad uncomfortable! The pillion seat is, however, just about as plush as you can get on any motorcycle. Final downside is that as a tallish chap the screen is a bit too low, leading to some wind buffeting at mid-range speeds, but this could be fixed as different screen sizes are available.

On the plus side, which to be honest far outweigh the fit issues, it rides beautifully. Cornering is precise and feels like you are on rails. Acceleration, wow, just breathtaking for such a big bike, but then with a 103cu inch (1690cc) engine it should be! Power is, however, tractable, right through the range and the sixth gear a delight for highway cruising; talking of which, the cruise control is superb and so simple to engage and manage. Incidentally, the engine is twin cooled, air with liquid around the valves ports. The hydraulic clutch surprised me by being light to use, yet also still having that undefinable ‘feel’ that to me is so important. Brakes are the best I’ve ever experienced on any touring motorbike by any manufacturer; they are linked above 25mph and really sit the bike firmly on the road when applied, ABS is standard. Twin disks on the front wheel and a single disk on the rear. The LED head and auxiliary lights are nice and bright, although I didn’t ride after sunset they certainly lit up the Saltash Tunnel quite well!

The bike is fitted with a super Satnav/Information/Entertainment module that Harley have dubbed an ‘Infotainment’ system. I never thought I’d like a stereo on a bike, but I loved this! Good clear sound, that cleverly increases the volume as engine noise increases! I’m not a great fan of SatNavs, but this seemed ok and I could get to use it in addition to the legendary Dookes sense of direction! The system will also link to mobile phones, iPods and other USB devices, neat. Supplied as standard are in helmet speakers and microphones. These enable rider and pillion to talk on the move, as well as using the stereo system without the external speakers and utilising voice recognition for SatNav commands. Dials for speed, engine revs, fuel and volts are well laid out, clear to read and light up effectively. The various switches and controls are placed logically on the handlebars and soon become instinctive to use.

As you can see in the photos, there is bags of luggage space…bad pun! Two hard panniers and a cavernous top box, which will itself hold two full face helmets and more. All are lockable, which will give extra security to the touring rider and all are made to be opened and closed when wearing riding gloves, a nice touch, well done H-D! Finish is top quality.

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By the time I got back to the Dealership I had ridden nearly 120 miles and had a big stupid grin on my face. This is one fantastic motorbike!

To conclude, I loved this bike and I really feel that Harley Davidson have made a good move by identifying a potential market and going for it. I am sure that they will sell a lot of this model by taking that chance. At a tad over £22k for the two tone colour version that I rode these bikes are not cheap, but I believe that they do return very good value for money and H-D used prices always remain high. If you want a comfortable, stylish, yet performance minded mile muncher and you stand somewhere below six feet tall, this is the bike for you!

Many, many thanks to Dealer Principle Chris Iris, Kevin Tomlinson and Tim Williams at Plymouth Harley Davidson for the opportunity and loan of the test bike.

Now where can I get my hands on it’s bigger brother???

Dookes

Autumn Leaves

It feels like a wind of change is whipping the shrivelling leaves off the high trees here at Dookes H.Q..
The sky is leaden grey and the air is heavy with drizzle.

Possibly the season has finally caught up with us and now the recent sunny warm days in France are just a precious memory.

As we left our friends in Sainte Suzanne, steady rain was falling. Ever the optimist, Jean-Philipe said it would only last for the morning; he was right. By lunchtime in Rennes, the sun was poking through and we enjoyed a pleasant afternoon meandering to St Malo.

Well, ok we did call in at the Rennes Harley Davidson dealership on the way to see what was on offer! They had a rather fetching Electra-glide Ultra Limited in deep metallic maroon that quite took my eye, even Mrs Dookes approved of that one… The bike salesman was a pleasant chap who, though he knew that he was not going to make a sale with me, gave me lots of time and attention. Shame that couldn’t be said for the rest of the sales staff. Myself and three other potential customers stood around for ages trying to get served with general stuff, mainly clothing and accessories, without being able to get any staff to help us. Frustrated and demonstrating my dislike for poor customer service, I just dumped my selected goodies and walked out! Well, as Mrs D pointed out, I do have plenty of H-D tee shirts already! Yeah, I know, not much patience either!

St Malo was buzzing. The Route du Rhum race was in town, gearing up for the start on 2nd November and the place was heaving with visitors and sailing types.

The Route du Rhum is a transatlantic single-handed yacht race, which takes places every 4 years in November. The course is between Saint Malo, France and Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe. The quickest boats will do it in a shave under two weeks, depending on the prevailing winds. Now in my younger days, I was quite fond of a bit of sailing. Two weeks across the Atlantic in November now seems like an awful lot of hard work. Mind you, to then spend some time in the Caribbean would be pretty ok, looking out of the window now!

Our last view the pleasant town of St Malo was from the balcony of our cabin as our ship slipped away from the jetty. It’s really quite a nice place, for a busy port.

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…and now I’m back at the plotting table, with that enticing commodity a blank page in front of me.

It’s not just for the next trip, that’s always an exciting prospect; limited only by imagination.

No, now I’m beginning to realise that the clean canvas is for more than that.

It’s about defining the future of who I am and what I am going to be, for the foreseeable future of the remainder of whatever this mortal coil has in store.

Like I often say, stick with me, this could get interesting!

“The future’s in the air, I can feel it everywhere,
Blowing with the wind of change.”

Dookes

Something Else I Love About The French

It’s their trains!

Not just because they build and run some of the fastest and sexiest trains in the world; the record breaking TGV: Train a Grande Vitesse. Which are just fantastic technically and also incredibly good value for money to travel on.

No, it’s the whole social attitude towards fast train travel.

Back in the UK the Government has announced that one day it might quite like to see a new High Speed railway built between London, Birmingham and Manchester. They have called it HS2. Great idea, but so far that’s all it really is.

Then all the “Anti” lobby got going.

The ‘Don’t build it near us, because our houses are worth far too much,’ bleaters.
The ‘You can’t build it here, because the rare one toed hairy caterpillar lives here,’ defenders….and of course the universal tree huggers!

All have started to put massive pressure on the UK politicians NOT to build the proposed, possible, maybe, new railway anywhere near them!

In France it’s all so very different….

When the latest new extension to,the TGV network was announced, to run between Rennes and Le Mans, about 95 miles. The various communities near the proposed route mobilised to get the line moved…nearer to their towns and villages! It’s seen as a prestige thing, to share in the success of the nation and be proud of what is collectively achieved….and it pushes property prices up as well, ain’t that something!

Personally, I think that attitude is great, well done France.

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As you can see, progress is being made. They have a great way of building the new line as well; first make a road so you can get trucks in easily, then add the railway infrastructure and hardware…it’s bloody quick to boot!
Why can’t we Brits, who after all invented railways, do it this well?

Oh yes I forgot, we don’t want it in our back yards!

“This train’s got the disappearing railroad blues.”

Dookes

Une Soirée Française: A French Evening

The autumn light is fading fast, it’s just turned seven in the evening and the town of Sainte Suzanne is falling silent.

This is the most important time of the week for many, as families gather for the Friday evening meal and the start of the weekend. I take the opportunity to enjoy a quiet stroll around the almost deserted streets and alleys to soak in the atmosphere and simply enjoy the still warm evening.

Earlier, Guillaume had tapped furtively on the kitchen window and handed me two large hens eggs.
“De vos oiseaux?” From your birds? I had asked.
“Mais non, de la ferme, aujourd’hui!” He grinned and tapped his nose. The provenance of the eggs is affirmed, but no more questions are asked! In exchange I give him a jar of Mrs Dookes’ home made strawberry jam and he is delighted. Last seen he was heading off towards the local Tabac and Bar, it is Friday evening!image

I turn into the main square and as I cross in front of the church one of the priests emerges. I wish him good evening.

“Vous n’étiez pas en masse!” You weren’t in mass! He comments.
“Non, je ne suis pas un Catholique.” No, I’m not a Catholic, I declare.
“Je suis désolé!” I am sorry! He smiles back.
We part friends, but somehow that meeting has given me a quiet inner glow. Maybe the greater power does work in mysterious ways…I don’t know.
I pass a old lady walking with her cat, really! As is polite, we bid each other “Bon soir’, the cat watches me suspiciously as I amble off into the growing gloom. Maybe he is her familiar, this is an ancient town after all!

The smell of freshly cooked food is beginning to fill the narrow streets. It’s true, most French cooking has the aroma of garlic and why not, even the supermarket in the next town sells five different varieties of the delicious bulb!

The tinkle of cutlery and the soft murmur of people gathering for their meal is audible above the roosting jackdaws.

If I had not eaten earlier I would be feeling pretty hungry by now, but no, I am feeling fulfilled and “très content.”

I rush back to drag Mrs Dookes out to savour the moment. She gets it, I think.

She also gets how her off the wall husband can become so immersed in the moment. The, “Joie de vivre.” The joy of life, as our French friends say.

“No, I don’t know where I’m going, but I sure know where I’ve been!”

Dookes

Cuisson…. À La France: Cooking… The French Way

Tonight’s dish is Poulet rôti à l’ail; Chicken roasted with garlic, lots and lots of garlic!

As I brown off the bird in a heavy frying pan I have the kitchen door open, mainly for fresh air, but also to enjoy the lovely unseasonal weather.

“Hey, mon ami!” It’s our neighbour, Guillaume, standing looking over the courtyard wall. “Ça sent bon!” “That smells good!”
“J’ai quelque chose pour tu.” “I have something for you”

I move the chicken off the heat and walk out to greet him. “Ça va?”
“Oui, oui, ça va bien. Alors, pour toi!” He holds out his hand and proffers fresh walnuts, heavy with oil and smelling of the woods. I eagerly receive them from him.
“De près d’ici?” From near here?
“Oui, dans la forêt, près de la ville.” From the forest, close to the town.
I roll the nuts in my hand and inhale their earthy aroma, they smell wonderful…but it must be my turn to open the bar!
“Un bière?” Guillaume grins at the suggestion. Well, that seems to seal the deal then!
I knock the tops off two 1664’s and pass him one. We chink the bottles and smile at each other like a couple of guilty schoolboys. He has the look of a man who has spent most of his life outside, and often non to close to hot water. His hands are stained with nicotine and hard work, but his heart is honest and his smile as genuine as the sun.

“Tu aime topinambour?” He asks, holding up some Jerusalem artichokes.
“Oui, bien sûr, mais ils me donnent le gaz!” Yes, certainly, but they give me… well, you get the drift!
We laugh and talk of fishing, the woods and food.
Then I have to get back to my cooking, Guillaume understands that, after all he has his artichoke soup to make.

I nibble a couple of the walnuts whilst cooking, savouring their wonderful freshness and giving thanks for my French friend’s generosity and knowing that later we will both dine well on the fruits of this amazing country.

“Entendez-vous dans les campagnes”

Dookes

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Plus un Dimanche Française; More on a French Sunday

“Bonjour Madame, Monsieur!” The raspy voice can only be Guillaume our bearded neighbour.
“Ça va?” I look around from my book of French recipes, that I have been engrossed in whilst enjoying the glorious sunshine on our balcony with Mrs Dookes. “Oui, ça va bien merci,” Yes, I’m good thanks.

Guillaume drops his load of fishing gear on the ground in the courtyard below me with an aplomb earned from a successful trip. He is itching for me to ask…
“As-tu attrapé quelque poisson?” “Did you catch any fish?”

It’s a bit of a staged question really, as he would have slipped quietly by had he not caught anything!

“Mais oui, un bon brochet!” He has caught a pike, a fish largely ignored by British chefs, but prized throughout the Northern half of France and this one is heading straight for G’s kitchen! But first the ritual of cleaning his gear and then gutting the fish.

As he busy’s himself and the sweet aroma of his French cigarette wafts through the air I savour the further richness of this lovely country and yes sometimes it is often all about the food. Not just about the eating, though that is pretty important, but more about the provenance, where it comes from and how it has been grown.

Seasonality is very important in French food and as we head into Autumn the richness of the game season is all around us, not least Guillaume’s pike. In the market yesterday were stalls creaking under the weight of fresh wild mushrooms; girolles, ceps, chanterelles to mention just a few. The butchers have pheasant, partridge and quail on offer, not forgetting wild boar, sanglier in French, It would be very rude not to at least try some of the seasons wonderful offerings.

Thinking again of my mate Floyd, he once said that to truly know a country, one must eat a country! I can’t say that I’ve tried everything that France has to offer yet, but I’m well on my way!

After a morning perambulation around Sainte Suzanne, just to work up an appetite, today’s lunch was a light prawn and crab salad, accompanied by a rather fine white burgundy.

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As you can see the little city is truly delightful.

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Guillaume has now finished his cleaning, the pike traps are drying in the late afternoon sun and the brochet itself is safely in the refrigerator. “Maintenent, un petit bu?” Guillaume asks. Now a little drink? Well, it would be rude to decline, for if one has to eat a country one might as well try to drink it as well, though please not all in one go!
“Oui, mon ami, un petit kir serait bon!”

Then I have to cook again, we bought a lovely piece of veal yesterday….!

“Non, je ne regrette rien.”

Dookes

An Autumn Break

The bells of the village church are calling the faithful to worship, in the cacophonous way that French life has witnessed for centuries. Mellow autumn sunlight slowly burns the morning mists from the vale of the River L’Erve, where ducks noisily complain at the clanging bells. Autumn tints of green, gold and brown shade the landscape to the blurred horizon. It is unseasonably warm, encouraging vivid yellow and red hornets to gather precious food from rambling ivy that sprawls up the ramparts of the medieval city set high above the landscape of the Mayenne.

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I sit on the balcony drinking in the morning with my senses and silently appreciating the beauty of the new day. Today will be a proper French Sunday. Food will feature prominently, but not before “un petit faire du promenade,” a little walk around the delightful village of Sainte Suzanne. Our cottage is set right into the ramparts amidst the tangled cobbled alleyways and narrow streets that are wonderfully bereft of motor vehicles, but do see the occasional horse or pony trot by.

The bells fall silent and jackdaws chatter their appreciation as they reclaim their perches in the bell tower. A waft of coffee reminds me that I have not yet had breakfast, but no worry, no need to rush the day away! Mrs Dookes has just returned from the boulangerie, yes they are open Dimanche matin, Sunday morning, but not at all on a Monday the Bakers Sabath. Fresh bread, croissants and pain au chocolat bear witness to the boulanger’s labour and smell sublime. Time for breakfast. My old mate Floyd would probably have a slug of Marc de Bourgogne in his coffee, but I’ll pass on that, just black will do for me!

So I am back in France again, with Mrs D, but sadly not on Harley. This is strictly a holiday to relax and take stock. Well, it is also a way for me to say thank you for the freedom to bugger off so much on my beloved motorbike! I have promised that we will not be flying off on any major excursions. Yesterday we passed through Josselin and took in the wonderful street market, which was alive with seasonal produce and aromas. The imposing Château is very famous in these parts and rightly so.

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So that’s a little update as to what the life of Dookes is like just now, yes I’m sorry that there’s not much about motorbikes to report at the moment, but watch this space, I have a feeling that things will get interesting again real soon on that front!

….and what of the future?

Well, I do feel a wind of change blowing and maybe it’s time to do something new. You know; new directions, new challenges, new places….always new places that’s “de rigueur” for me!
Stick with me, this ride ain’t over yet, by a long way!

“Of course, I’ve had it in the ear before
‘Cause of a lust for life”

Dookes

Taking The Long Way

The wonderful summer weather is fast becoming a mere memory as we slip firmly into autumn. Sticking out into the Atlantic Ocean our county of Cornwall certainly gets more than its fair share of storms and gales, this last week we got the first one of the season. To be fair it was more like 24 hours of squalls, but the leaves started to spin off the trees as the rain came down in whipping sheets.

Not surprising then that Harley and I haven’t been out much in the last two weeks. I’m not at all bothered by whatever the weather is when I ride, but sometimes if it’s just for pleasure and its chucking it down I’ll pass and wait for the clouds to scud by. Coupled with other life pressures I really have not had time to get out on the road. Actually its the longest period of time that I have not ridden her since March this year, shocking, absolutely shocking!

This weekend I have made sure I got everything else done and today I carved out some time to go get mellow, on my beloved Harley.

We needed a few supplies, so I took a right and headed up the A30, crossing the border into England and pointed to Okehampton on the northern side of Dartmoor. It was good to blow the cobwebs away, but hell there were some real jerks in cages out there on the road! A quick stop for supplies and a complementary coffee, some of you will guess which supermarket I shop at, then time for a decision.

I really wanted a chilled out ride, without having to street-fight the cages, so I took the West Devon Ride back towards Cornwall. This is the old A30 road, the one that existed before the dual carriageway trunk route was built. In fact it follows the old trade route that dates back before the Romans. It runs from Sourton on the west edge of Dartmoor to Launceston on the east edge of Bodmin Moor and is twenty five miles of really enjoyable riding. Today it was empty, very like some of my favourite French roads. Harley was able to sit at a legal yet quick pace and I was able to get stuck into some nice corners whilst enjoying the changing autumn colours and the great scenery. The air is beginning to get a bit of a chilly bite to it and I was pleased to be able to adjust my heated jacket to stay snug. Passing through a couple of villages the smell of wood smoke showed that we were not the only ones with the heating on! After Launceston we kept to the back roads, taking the long way and just enjoying ourselves. Those bends were just great! No photos, I was too busy having fun!

OK you want a picture? Not the best but hey, I’ve spoilt you all in the past!

Well, last Thursday evening at Plymouth Harley Davidson we were invited to the launch of the 2015 models. Big emphasis was the new Road Glide, which to be honest doesn’t really do it for me. There is a big boxy faring on the front that I just can’t quite appreciate, but each to their own. I do however, like the Rushmore Electra Glide and also the new metallic blue colour for this year. This is the blue on a V-Rod muscle bike.

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…and this is the 2015 model of the Electra Glide Ultra Limited.

P1020643.JPG Silver and black looks nice, but for me it really needs to be a solid colour. These are big bikes, 103cubic inch (1690cc) engine, dry weight of 398kg, 2.6 metres long and a top speed in excess of 120 mph. Nice!

Gotta say I’m pretty smitten, I think I feel a test ride coming on. Can’t hurt to try one, can it????

P1020644.JPG I can just see myself sitting here!

“I always find my way somehow, by taking the long way around”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Love Affairs

OK, so it’s no great secret and I think that I have said it in previous posts, I am seriously in love with that Harley of mine! It’s not just that she has great looks and sounds wonderful, but it’s also a lot to do with that undefinable thing called “Character”. My mate, Big John, once said about my Harley travels that it’s not where I go, but more the bike I go there with, that makes the trip more interesting. In a slightly egotistical way, I guess that it is also something to do with the way a Harley Davidson always seems to get attention wherever you go, not that I am in any way an attention seeker! Let’s just agree that for lots of varied reasons, I really do love that bike!

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I do, however, have to confess that long before I ever dreamed of owning a Harley I had and still do have, another mechanical love…steam locomotives!

This is a love affair that stretches back more than fifty years and was, without doubt influenced by my late father who was a steam locomotive engineer. Not an” Engineer” in the American sense of what we call a Driver, but rather he used to build and maintain those behemoths. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting beside railway lines excitedly watching steam trains thunder by. In later years I was fortunate to learn to fire and drive steam trains myself, both on heritage lines and most exciting of all, professionally on special excursion trains on the main line. I never forgot that small boy standing by the line side and often had to pinch myself that I was actually getting paid for what I was doing! Having left the rail industry some years ago now, I am occasionally lucky enough to be invited to keep my hand in on a heritage line from time to time, which is nice.

Last week I got news that an excursion train would be visiting Cornwall and as the railway line is only about twenty minutes away from Dookes H.Q. by Harley, it would have been a shame not to go and watch the train go by… and so there we were, Harley and I, enjoying the evening sun near Bodmin Parkway last Sunday.

The railway line here winds and climbs eastwards through the oak and beech woodland. It really was a lovely evening, birds sang in the trees and the air was still. Then from the west I could make out the syncopated beat of a three cylinder locomotive working hard against the gradient and coming our way. The distinctive sound signature told me that this was a type of loco known as a Bullied Pacific, (O.V.S. Bullied was the designer and “Pacific” refers to the wheel arrangement of 4-6-2) and one of my favourite classes, both to work on and as a youngster, to watch go by! Time then seemed to rewind, there was no-one else there and this really was just like watching trains go by as a kid again. The steady beat grew louder, echoing through the trees and calling attention to the train’s progress. The steels rails began to sing announcing the imminent arrival and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, this really was just like the old days!

Then she was upon us, a quick photo and she was gone, like the poem says, “Each a glimpse, then gone forever”, wow and what a glimpse!

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34067 “Tangmere” a Battle of Britain class Light Pacific, originally built by the Southern Railway in 1947 and named after the famous World War Two airfield. She was hauling nine carriages, about 315tons and doing mighty well at approximately 50mph up the grade. Her shrill whistle sounded as she flashed by and the exhaust smoke hung in the air long after her passing.

I stood savouring the moment and the lingering smell of hot oil and coal smoke as she chattered her way eastwards. The years rolled back as I walked to my time machine and fired her up, only two cylinders this time, but one big, big, smile! It really is love you know!

“Just be right there when the whistle blows…all down the line”

Dookes