The Son of Slash
by Phil Cooper
Hello and welcome to my blog. Just 2 years ago I began the construction of a model railway layout. I intend to hand it on to my grandson, Harrison who is train mad. He was just 3 years old so I reckoned I could have quite a few years to play with, sorry, I mean develop, the layout. BUT I am useless at modelling and have no understanding of electrickery. So, you won’t learn much from me but I can mention some of the mistakes I’ve made in the hope you don’t make the same mistakes. I do hope to inspire you to get stuck into this wonderful hobby.
My connection to the railway is my dad who was a train driver based in Inverness. He loved his job. He began his driving days on steam engines. I can remember him cycling home after a torrid day on the footplate. Dad was quite a character. He was a very fast driver and had the nickname “Slash”. He had no time for “management”. I remember him once coming home and proudly telling a story that 2 members of British Rail hierarchy were on board his train. One gentleman had the temerity to have a moan saying that Dad drove the train well but a jolt between Aviemore and Inverness caused him to spill some of his coffee. Dad simply gave him 20p for another coffee and left them on the platform. Dad knew how to lose friends and gain enemies!
Dad 2nd from right at Kyle of Lochalsh (his favourite destination) I have no idea why he is blowing a kiss to the photographer.
In the age of steam, he and his colleagues were always covered in soot and various forms of black stuff so he was happy when diesels replaced the old steam engines and so was I. I’ve never really understood this romance with steam modelling. Too many milk churns for my liking and please, no more Morris Minor police panda cars! But those old train drivers were tough. Dad was once stuck in a massive snowstorm which completely blocked the track, He and his fireman were stuck in the snow for 3 days and food had to be helicoptered to them.
This is dad and some chums trying to clear the line in 1963, can you see the anti-drift wall has collapsed.
My eldest brother got me interested in model trains back in 1960 when he was on honeymoon with his new wife. It sounds like he had plenty of time for sight-seeing and anything else that one does on honeymoon. I was only 5 and had a lot to learn. They brought home a train set which featured a small steam locomotive and a circle of track. I have to admit that the train set didn’t inspire me back in those days, but it was my first trainset. I remember being able to actually smell the electricity coming out of the transformer which in those days was the size of a shoebox.
My next meeting with model railways was when I bought my son, Iain, a Hornby Eurostar train set. We laid it on a board on the floor which wasn’t ideal for me because my knees are badly damaged from playing rugby and basketball and once again, I didn’t take to it and neither did Iain, so I stored all the track and locomotives away out of sight. But my next meeting with model trains hooked me.
This was when my grandson, Harrison, arrived. I could see he liked trains and we bought him quite a few trainsets for infants. That was when I announced my plan to build a largish layout for him. In my dreams I saw loads of trains on the track, beautiful scenery, and houses with lights. The daft thing was that I knew I didn’t have the necessary skills to make this layout, but I do possess a never-give-up spirit.
Time to take you back to my first days in secondary school, Inverness Royal Academy when I came up against my history teacher, Mrs McKenzie. She was very sadistic, and I was the first to get “the belt”. My terrible crime was failing to answer Q10 Part C. Yes, one part of one question got me 6 of her best! My next problem was in my woodwork class where the teacher was Mr Beattie. If you are familiar with the animated video that accompanied Pink Floyd’s record, “Another Brick in the Wall” you can see Mr Beattie flying about beating up schoolchildren and eventually mincing them. Mr Beattie did a first-class impression of that fiend. His woodwork class put me off ever making things. We were tasked with making a box about the size of a shoebox. I was the last to finish my “box”.
Oh, I almost forgot to tell you about James Fraser. I really didn’t like him. Mr Beattie assigned us various work benches and James and I found ourselves standing next to bench 7. Can you guess who was at the wrong bench. I hung my head in shame as I walked to the correct bench which faced the evil, young Fraser. At that point my dislike of James became pure hatred.
Moving on, I eventually made my creation and took it to Mr Beattie. Now he had some eccentricities and a, cruel wit. One of his regular admonishments to a pupil was to adopt a whiny loud voice and say to the offending pupil, “Wood disnae grow on trees, laddie.* “So there I was at the front of the class with my creation which he held up for everybody, all my new friends AND James Fraser, to look at it in wonder. I waited for the ovation and cheering only for Mr Bloody Beattie to loudly pronounce, “YUK” at the top of his voice. Thankfully I managed to get out of woodwork the following year. So now maybe you can understand why I am useless as a modeller. Actually, calling me a modeller is totally wrong. I hate James Fraser to this day. And Mr Beattie! I took the box home. My dad laughed when he saw it but my mum thought it was “very good”. Thanks mum.
I finished my schooling at the Academy in 1973 and took up a summer job washing coaches at the Inverness depot where I was known as “The Son of Slash” or “SOS” hence the title of this blog. I earned hundreds of pounds tax-free which I hoped would see me through my first university year of partying and general debauchery. I was set to go to Strathclyde U to study Business Studies. But my parents went off on holiday to sunny Spain. Dad was always very keen to tell people that his railway pass allowed him and mum (and me while I was at school) to travel from Inverness to Port Bou (I think) for twenty-one shillings. But while they were away, I crashed my dad’s car, an almost new Vauxhall Victor. It was my fault. I took an S bend too quickly on the notorious A9. I can remember the first time my mum and dad, with me travelled to Perth on that awful road. Mum asked how we were going to get there, and Dad told her we would be following the rail line all the way to Perth.
Back to my crash which, coincidentally, took place just a few yards from the railway line. We crossed the white central line and collided with a lorry coming in the opposite direction. The car spun along the road on its roof before coming to a halt. We were lucky. Nobody was hurt. I had some nasty facial cuts and John McDonald’s cassette player was in a bad state- his taste in music was terrible anyway. But I felt guilty and wanted to repay Dad. At that innocent age I knew nothing about car insurance! So, to pay him back I applied for a job with HM Customs & Excise and was posted to Dover. I couldn’t have got much further from home. That was back in 1974.
*English translation: Wood does not grow on trees young man
If you would like to read more blog posts from Phil check back every two weeks or sign up to our newsletter to keep up to date on site news or when the blog posts go live.
The views and opinions expressed within the content are solely the author's and do not reflect the opinions and beliefs of Trackside Signs or its affiliates.
