h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Dialect-ion of Duty.

Edwin was a fully dedicated, world- war two, steam engineman, six feet tall, thin as a lath and topped with blazing Red hair. At about seventeen years of age his habit of lapsing into the thickest of Lancashire accents, was an act that allowed him to come out on top in any arrangements involving food, overtime or money. The city youths were to find themselves completely outclassed when they tried to pit their wits against this apparent country bumpkin, because when it came to grabbing a bit of overtime, Edwin was a passed master.

Food was his main concern in life next to money, and it was said that Edwin could eat a potato more than a pig. This was found to be correct, when for a small bet he ate a potato pie baked by his mother in a washing up bowl. It measured more than twelve inches across and it was about five inches deep. It took Edwin a full hour to eat it, but he did, every scrap. The pie crust alone was enough to feed the average man, but Edwin was far from average, the country yokel appearance masked a razor sharp mind, and a great deal of natural ability.

One morning George Stanley the Boiler Smith verified that fact the hard way. Edwin was in the workshop and George said to him, “Edwin, will you go over to Mrs Yarwood’s shop and get me a cake and you can get one for yourself.” “Great,” said Edwin and he was off like a shot. On his very speedy return Edwin pressed the change into George’s hand and he said, “Thid nobbut won’n I adit.” Translated, this meant, “ they had only one and I have eaten it.” George could only laugh, and it gave him and many others entertainment for years to come.

With his usual immaculate planning, Fred Wilson the Shed Manager, had decided to put vast stocks of coal into store for the Winter of 1947, and this proved to be a very wise move indeed. The circumstances of stacking the coal in the good weather, prior to the approaching very severe Winter produced more than a little fun, and at the start Fred had craftily detailed his lads into pairs. Then he suggested that Edwin and his mate could beat any other team at emptying a ten-ton rail wagon onto the coal stack. To secure even more interest, he then offered two shillings to the team who emptied their wagon first.

Edwin did not win and, and the following morning Fred went round to the stack to see how many wagons had been emptied. Just the one, all the others were still half full or half empty if you wish, but to Fred it just did not matter, he wanted them all emptying. When the shed lads came on duty at four p.m. Fred was waiting, “Empty one wagon between two of you and you can go home.” “What about the two bob,” from Edwin? “Alright,” he said, and away he went, Fred was finishing at five p.m. and he knew quite well that everyone would work very hard to go home early.

The lads had only been on duty for three and a half hours, and by about seven thirty the job was finished and tidy. “How about going to the pictures, there’s a good one on at the Regal?” said one of the coal-dusted figures with just two white eyes showing, it is difficult to recall who that was with the heavy disguise of coal dust. Off to the second house of the pictures trooped half a dozen partly washed, but still filthy teenagers, resplendent in their railway issued overalls and enginemen’s highly polished peak caps. No one said a word as they wended their way to the cheaper seats. But! Lo and behold, just as they were going in through the door, He! was coming out, Fred was just leaving with one of his friends; he studiously ignored his young workforce by turning to his friend as they went by, then he glanced at the watch on his massive wrist before moving off down the street, without even a glance in their direction.
2.

The following day at four p.m. once again, into the mess- room came Fred, he had obviously done some more calculations, and he had decided to double the workload. “Right lads, empty one wagon each and you can go home again, I will leave two bob with the foreman for the first wagon emptied. Five o clock on the dot and away went Fred, big and heavy though he was, he just padded silently on his feet like a giant cat.

They all watched him go and then off to his locker went Edwin, quickly returning with a pack of playing cards. “Adjourn to the Sander, we will all empty one wagon for the two bob, then we will play pontoon for it.” The Sander was a very warm, comfortable little building with an enormous fire for drying the sand used by the engines to prevent the wheels slipping. A small amount of coal was thrown out of five of the wagons, but only one was emptied completely. About midnight the end of the shift, everyone went home leaving everything tidy, but almost as it was at the beginning. This saga was obviously going to reach a conclusion the following day and it was a well-known fact, ”you don’t mess about with Fred. But he also knew the quality of brainpower beneath the thatch of Red hair under Edwin’s polished cap, and fortunately he had already conceded defeat.

Once again Fred’s presence loomed in the open doorway of the mess room, and everyone was beginning to have doubts, had it really been wise to tweak the lion’s tail, were they all due for a formal, nine am invitation to a Red carpet confrontation and the issuing of a Form One each? In other words the most feared, official please explain your conduct satisfactorily, or else form.

There he stood, his giant frame filling the large doorway, with the “I am in charge” expression on his face, and his fully attentive audience literally shaking in their boots. Yet all was well, as the expression on Fred’s face changed, accompanied with a burst of laughter that almost shook the room, right down to its enormous well -scrubbed pine table and stone flagged floor. Looking straight at Edwin he said, “Right lads, one wagon between two men, no two bob for card playing but you can all go home as soon a you have finished.” The crafty devil had silently observed every move that they made and rather than disturb them, he had left them to carry on thinking that they were fooling him, this was man management at its very best, and I firmly believe that we all improved our own education at the same time.

To illustrate the story further we have to reset the year to nineteen forty five, the war was only just over and already the minds of persons in high authority, were set on taking possession of the enormous assets of railway property, including vast tracts of land, stations, docks, ships, hotels, hostels and private houses. The plans now being secretly formed also included the deliberate destruction of a unique transport system that had most certainly saved the country from defeat in the war, by efficiently transporting the essential armed forces and equipment required.

Soon the mature, middle aged and elderly locomotive staff were devastated as they were discarded, together with the most promising youth of the day. While they were all extremely efficient in their own field of expertise, very few of them could cope with the few alternatives on offer. The train services were withdrawn and two mature engine drivers, purchased motorcycles in a determined attempt to reach the nearest working depot, one was killed outright on a frosty road the other one was badly injured. Even the ever-resourceful Edwin was overmatched, he also fell victim to the tragic series of events inflicted upon him by a greedy, ungrateful government and Edwin died, accidentally killed even before his expected maturity.

3.

Looking back all those years, in the mind’s eye I see him as he was in 1945 as the war ended. Just like many teenagers at the Locomotive Shed, Edwin had also fired passenger trains into and out of Manchester Victoria Station as the bombs were falling on the city. Perhaps it should have been realised that these very young railwaymen had already done their bit for their King and Country, and they should have been left in peace to get on with the rest of their lives.

In Edwin’s case that precious time was to be very limited indeed, and two years of his very short life would be taken away from him immediately. Just like many of the teenagers who had worked on the footplate for the last two years of the war, Edwin had now become eighteen years of age, and he received instructions to go into Manchester once again. This time university trained graduates including a doctor, interviewed him. They had only one thing on their minds, and that was to make Edwin into a fully trained soldier within the two years of National Service allocated to that task.

They must surely have received a course of further education themselves as they interviewed this apparent country bumpkin. Immediately Edwin arrived, he went into his long practised act and assumed the broadest Lancashire accent possible; the interrogators could not understand a single word that he said, although the occasional word did seem to be English. Little did they know, that if they had asked him a sensible, practical question like,” do you know anything at all about the classics, or music,” they would have received quite a surprise, because he would have dropped the act immediately. Edwin was very well educated himself when his favourite subjects music, and musical instruments were being discussed.

After the eye test and the swift physical examination, one of the doctors asked him several questions that included, “ Have you had many illnesses?” “Wee’ll av ad all thwarks.” “What do you mean?” said the doctor. “ We’ll av ad thed wark, back wark, n belly wark.” That was the end of the interview, and he was drafted into the army for his two years National Service. This time Edwin had lost the game, and for those not quite as educated as he was in the dialect, wark means ache.

In conclusion, it may be said to the people of the Rossendale Valley, and perhaps the whole of our Nation, as the last British Rail, main line steam engine whistle, made its final wail, “Ask not for whom that mournful whistle blows, because it blows for you.”


THE END.