The Railway that wasn't there or Mea Culpa

Last week I promised to tell you about the mistake I made which means that there is an error in The Children’s Hour. You will remember that Lydia Shaw had a lover called Timothy Lestrange (which was just as well as her husband, Ambrose, was not the nicest of men). It is not only Lydia whose life is made much nicer when Timothy is around: the children all adore him and when he is around they find their father far less difficult. As Mina puts it:

‘Timothy is nice, isn’t he, Mama?’ says Mina. ‘He’s like a very kind magician. Like Merlin.’ Lydia is reading T.H. White’s ‘The Once and Future King’ to them after tea during the children’s hour. ‘He’s put a spell on all of us, hasn’t he?’

Last week, Maria left a comment about trees in winter so this one of beech trees is for you, Maria.
It was taken not far from the setting for The Children's Hour.

Then comes the war. Ambrose remains in London where he is busy making money. Timothy is enrolled into some clandestine group and is shortly to go abroad and will be away for some time. However . . .

Timothy manages one more visit to Ottercombe before vanishing again into Europe. Ambrose and Georgie, by now, are firmly fixed in London; each manipulating the other to attain their own ends. Petrol rationing and restrictions on travel give them excellent excuses to avoid the long journey to Exmoor but, somehow, Timothy finds the means: travelling by train to Barnstaple, catching the last connection to Parracombe and walking the rest of the way, nearly four miles, across the moor.

Obviously not Ottercombe as that is fictional, this is part of the coast that (together with Heddon's Mouth) inspired the idea of a small cove surrounded by tall cliffs and fed by a small stream that had eroded a steep valley on the side of which was perched the house. As so often happens the tops of the hills are shrouded in cloud and visibility is generally pretty poor.

When Marcia asked me to check and find out how Timothy could travel down by train I was able to find the line of the dis-used railway track and details of the old station at Parracombe but I didn’t bother to check when it had ceased to run because I assumed I knew. In 1963 and 1966 the Chairman of British Railways – Dr Richard Beeching (he was a doctor of physics, not medicine, and was also a fully qualified engineer) wrote reports about the need to modernise the UK’s railways. As a result about 5,000 miles of railway line and nearly 2,500 stations were closed and, yes, this was vandalism on a grand scale and should not have happened. Indeed, and at huge cost, some of these lines are being reopened as car travel becomes more and more expensive and the roads more and more congested. Anyway, I just assumed that this line to Parracombe was a victim of the so-called “Beeching cuts” in the 1960’s.

This is the cover of The Children's Hour as published by Wydawnictwo Replica in Poland - and it's not far from what Marcia had in mind, is it?.

Only it was closed before the war: Timothy could not have used it. Indeed, it is doubtful whether Timothy (in the time available to him) would have been able to make that flying visit to Ottercombe.

We discovered this thanks to a very kind and tactful email from an Anglican priest, Father Keith Denerley. Father Keith was Chaplain to the convent where Marcia used to go for a couple of retreats each year and they became (and remain) good friends. He apologised for bringing the error to our attention but, as he put it, in his profession it is important to remain on the ‘straight and narrow’. 

In order properly to enjoy that remark one needs to know that the railway in question, The Lynton and Barnstaple Railway, was indeed a narrow gauge (1 foot and 11½ inches, to be precise) railway with a single track about nineteen miles long that opened in May 1898. It soon ceased to be commercially viable and, despite efforts to run it more economically and to attract more travellers and freight, the last train ran on 29 September, 1935.

Taken a bit to the east of 'Ottercombe', this shows the effect of cloud on thw water of the Bristol Channel. On the far side is South Wales and the ship is on its way to the port of Avonmouth. Navigation here is tricky: the rise and fall of the tide here can be as high as 50 foot (I think I an right in saying that highest tides in the world are around 53 feet - in the Bay of Fundy, Canada). This means the water sluices in and out - especially out when the water coming down the river is added to the ebb flow - and it is very easy to lose control.

However, in 1979 The Lynton & Barnstaple Railway Association was formed to see what could be done. To date they have refurbished one old station (Woody Bay complete with tearoom and other facilities) and have some of the track laid to create a very popular tourist attraction. The trains may not go anywhere but the route takes you through some of the most breathtaking Exmoor scenery. The first train ran in July 2004 and an extension was opened in 2007. The society continues to work towards its ultimate aim: the restoration of as much of the line as is possible.

There is some rather interesting footage of the old railway on YouTube. To see it, click here.

I have no idea how many other people noticed the error – nor do I really want to know. However, if I had done my job properly when Marcia was writing The Children’s Hour that book would not have contained this stupid error. I mean, that line was never, ever, part of the British Rail network that was the subject of the Beeching Enquiry – how could I have got it so wrong?

Hello 2014

It is conventional, at this time, to look back over the last twelve months and list the highs and the lows - and then to look ahead and consider what it is hoped will be achieved in the next. Well, since we have shared the former here on a weekly basis there seems little point in going through it all over again. As to the future: I am no prophet so all I could write about would be hopes and they are always the same every year. 

Since there are no suitable photos to go with this blog, I thought I would have a look at some taken in previous Januaries. Here we have Tintagel Head taken in 2007. Marcia was trying to find out where Julia would get rid of the little Merlin (The Way We Were). Well it was from here, a few feet nearer the edge of the cliff on which I was standing when I took this photograph.

I hope that the world will be a kinder and a more peaceful one than hitherto and that all who are dear to me (which includes those who follow my blog or email either Marcia or me on a regular basis) enjoy good health and have the inner strength to cope with whatever 2014 throws at them. As always, some of our hopes are destined to be shattered. My father was fond of quoting from poetry. This from Alexander Pope comes to mind, "Hope springs eternal in the human breast. Man never is, but always to be blessed."

Today is my father's birthday (which may be why I thought about this quote). He would have been a hundred and one. Why do I find that an amazing thought?

My father, in India during the war.

Have you ever thought that we celebrate New Year on the wrong day? Since the night of December 21 is the shortest here in the north - and the longest for those in the south - it would have been logical to start the year then but, no, we wait for a further ten days. It seems odd. Does anyone know how this came about? The moment the days begin to draw out, I begin to look for the signs that tell me spring is around the corner - 'my' year starts on December 22nd!

This is the same year, 2007, but now we are on the south coast of Devon at Torcross on a miserable day. In the background is Start Point. 

As it happened – in other words because someone got the date of New Year all wrong – 2013 went out in spectacular fashion as far as we were concerned. We live upstairs in this house where there is a kitchen, sitting room, our bedroom and one bathroom while the spare bedrooms, another bathroom and my study are at ground floor level. 

Te same day as the photo above. Slapton Ley.

Upstairs as well as dormer windows, all the rooms have a Velux window and outside the hall is a small conservatory with a glass roof.  When it rains heavily the noise is quite incredible. Well, we didn’t have rain on New Year’s Eve: we had hail. It was like being in a drum. It was a little bit worrying as well. Would the Velux windows take the strain? We could easily imagine the hailstorm joining us in the sitting room and I have a sneaking suspicion that in a few books down the line someone else will share this experience. I should add that it if that happens it will be described properly unlike the bald statement that I have made.

Two years later, 2009, and we are on the north coast near where The Children's Hour was set. At the time Marcia was thinking about another book set there which revolved around a house being built by an architect but this was one of those dead ends of which there have been many. Most of the ideas associated with this one became incorporated in The Summer House.

So now it is time to put the holidays behind us and to get back down to earth. Marcia is working well at the moment and feeling quite good about the book she is writing – well, for most of the time since there are the usual wobblies when she is convinced that it is all rubbish, that it has no plot and are we really meant to love any of these people?

The Dartmouth – Start Bay book proceeds. There are still a few photographs needed but they will have to wait until the spring now by which time all the text will be written - it's very nearly finished. 

This time last year I took the opportunity to record this Blackcap which popped in for a spot of grub. Being a female, her cap is rusty brown. Well, there had to be at least one bird to celebrate the first blog of the year, didn't there?

Then there is this video project. I think I shall try and take three separate environments (the moor, the coast and the farmland between the two) and try to shoot three videos each month: one in each environment so we can follow the changing seasons. There is, of course, the real possibility that this project will die on its feet before it is complete.

Meanwhile, I would like to tell you about Marcia’s jeans: the navy blue velvet pair she has been known to wear at book signings (and so some of you may have met these jeans). She washed them the other day and hung them up to dry. We went out. There was a gale blowing and so despite the weakness of the sun (when it deigned to peer at us through the scudding clouds) there was every chance that the washing would be dry when we returned. Most of it was but the jeans had vanished. Gone. Poof!

Had the local jeans thief been on the prowl or had they been blown away on a gust of wind? Marcia popped round to see whether they were in our neighbour’s garden. There was nobody at home but also no sign of the jeans. Could they have blown beyond that garden into the railway cutting alongside? We walked up to the bridge and peered over the parapet. No jeans.

Suddenly on New Year’s Eve, just after dark, the front door opened and our neighbour called up. With her were Marcia’s jeans. They had been blown between some plants and the greenhouse and you couldn't see them until you went inside. Now they were home again and in perfect condition. What a nice way to end the old year.

Lily May is a Norfolk Terrier. Having had a Cairn I would like another terrier but they are not really Marcia's favourite dog (being addicted to Newfoundlands has something to do with it). However, I am now informed that should we consider another dog she would certainly look at choosing a Norfolk.