The Complicated World of Modern Traction Naming

"British Rail did not name any locomotives at all between the beginning of 1967 and the end of 1975. That's nine full years without any namings. Just let that sink in for a moment. Nine years."

Onto its second name... 86229 was originally named Sir John Betjeman in mid 1983. It was renamed Lions Clubs International whilst with Virgin West Coast fifteen years later. This shot shows the loco at Birmingham New Street on 15th November 2001.

If we're talking about classic diesel traction and I refer to Merddin Emrys, do I mean 47281, or do I mean 47145? If I reference Petrolea, do I mean 47374, or 37888, or 58042?... Unless we already have a context, you won't know. That's because these example names appeared on all of the loco options I've cited. Over the years, locomotive and train names have been fairly casually recyclable, or transient in their association with particular items of stock. Does that defeat the point of naming?

What, indeed, even is the point of naming? Who or what is it for? Is it for the rail enthusiast? For the wider public? For the person, group or entity honoured in the name? Or is it for the media, and ultimately for the publicity benefit of the train operator? Is naming about respect? And if so, does that respect extend to the actual loco or train? Is it about schmoozing? Is it about virtue signalling? Is it merely an honest attempt to add kudos to rail travel?... It would be naive to think it's not to some extent about the train operator drawing attention to itself. But has that quest, at times, been a little too obvious?...

Info-Pictorial: ‘Peaks’ on the Birmingham to Gloucester Line

"So post 1975, the 45/1s only had a skeleton presence on the Lickey, while the 45/0s and 46s took care of nearly all ‘Peak’-hauled cross-country runs."

They might seem like a primitive form of power today, but the ‘Peaks’ once represented the cutting edge of rail traction on the Cheltenham to Birmingham New Street line. Indeed, it was a ‘Peak’ whose awesome tractive effort first proved it possible to eliminate banking for northbound passenger trains on the Lickey Incline. Class 45 No. D40’s experimental, heavily-loaded assaults on the 1 in 37 back in 1961, were what persuaded BR that bankers (at the time still steam) could actually be used selectively, rather than religiously.

And the ‘Peaks’ never looked back. Twenty-odd years later they were still single-handedly wrenching rakes of twelve or more up the gruelling gradient without complaint. In this info-pictorial I’m recalling the irrepressible 16-wheeled monsters in the latter phase of their heyday between Birmingham New Street, Cheltenham Spa and Gloucester.

The Class 50 Refurbishment Story

"In response to a question by Modern Railways a few weeks later, BREL Managing Director Ian Gardiner argued that the 'super-overhaul' process could essentially be described as remanufacture..."

The archetypal look of the Class 50, post refurbishment. 50040 Leviathan heads for the South West, at Wychbold, in June 1982.

Believe it or not, it’s now a whacking 40 years since the hushed and experimental beginnings of the Class 50 refurbishment programme. For fans of the type, the scheme’s raft of modifications brought a buzz of excitement, with a new sound, a new look, and a drastic reduction in Class 47 stand-ins on ‘Hoover’ diagrams.

Indeed, it's fair to assume that the greater proportion of today's extant Fifties owe their very survival, in part, to BREL Doncaster’s four-year run of mega-overhauls which gutted and rebuilt every last member of the class. But for British Rail, the programme was part of a much wider quest to stem the rapidly diminishing reliability of the diesel fleet…

Time Tunnel: Publications For Train Spotters

"The appeal of these ‘underground’ publications would be lost on mainstream publishers. If the authors had not self-published, the books would never have seen the light of day."

These days, if we saw someone opening up a deck chair on a piece of waste ground next to a railway line, in mid winter, we’d probably assume they were a few sandwiches short of the full picnic basket. But in the 1970s, train spotters did exactly that, and no one batted an eyelid.

In the evening, your school teacher sat in a luggage trolley on Platform 10a at New Street station, with a pad and pen. Shine, rain or snow. Yes, once upon a time, people really were that dedicated to train spotting, and it was contagious. Platform ends got seriously overcrowded with spotters, all somehow trying to turn British Rail’s steps, parcel receptors and ramps into items of makeshift furniture. In the summer, some spotters would just sit, kneel or even lie on the concrete.

The UK’s railway was a very different place back then. Inherently more exciting than it can ever be in the high-tech, heavily standardised and altogether more reliable age of 2019. But spotters in the post-steam era would not have bustled so feverishly without the publishers. Train spotting books, and other published matter, set everything into context. Gave locomotives, and other vehicles, an identity. In this post, I’m taking a retrospective look at the publishing scene that glorified British Rail to the enthusiast in the 1970s and early 1980s.