Tonight we have another story from retired Engine Driver John Anthony that will put a smile on your face!
I was sweet sixteen, and a frisson of fear twitched my body – I was on my very first fireman’s turn! My baptism of fire was an old saddle tank 0/6/0. She stood there, half asleep on a pit road, slumbering in the moonlight. Close up, she looked like a miniature “Vesuvius” about to erupt volcanic vapours issued above her malignant hump. Soon, I had her fire ablaze, and with a mighty roar, she blew her top.
“HEY! WHAT THE BLOODY HELLS GOING ON, YOU’RE WAKING UP HALF THE BLOODY FITTERS HERE!” and there, peering from under a greasy hat was my driver, pot bellied, gnarled hands, snotty beaked nose above a talloned moustache. He commanded, “GO AND SIT IN MY SEAT AND DRIVE HER TO THE GOODS YARD, SONNY!” Ooooh, I could have kissed him!
Many thanks to John for sending this in! John’s contributions can be found on a dedicated web page (please click here.)