The Wemyss Private

in English & Methil Dialect

When ah wiz fifteen, ah got fed up wi skale an decided it wiz time tae spend mah days in a wey, mair tae mah satisfaction. Ah kent that ah wid hiv tae get a job an pey mah wey, but like aw youngsters, only when ah wiz forced tae!
Ah had nae ambitions tae be a fireman or an engine driver. Thae had tae work fur a livin. Space wis big in the 60s but astronauts were Americans or Russians. Bein a big science-fiction fan, ah wiz mair than a wee bit aware that rockets were even mair like hard work. When I was fifteen, I got fed up with school, and decided that it was time to spend my days in a way, more to my satisfaction. I knew that I would have to get a job and pay my way, but, like all youngsters, only when I was forced to!
I had no ambition to be a fireman or an engine driver. They had to work for a living. Space was a big thing in the 60s, but astronauts were American or Russian. Being a big science-fiction fan, I was more than slightly aware, that rockets were even more like hard work.

So that left bummin aboot an bein a layaboot. Pey wiz rubbish but th 'oors wiz great. An so, me an mah pals started hingin aroond the Wemyss Private Railway - mainly on acoont o mah pal, Eck, who wiz a 'train-spotter'. In thae days, anoraks hidnae come intae fashion an drugs wiz whit ye got if ye had a bad infection. So that left bumming around and being a layabout. The pay was poor but the hours were great. So, me and my friends started hanging around the 'Wemyss Private Railway' - mainly because of my pal, Eck, who was a 'train-spotter'. In those days, anoraks had not come into fashion, and drugs were what you were given if you had a bad infection.

Onnywey, the Wemyss Private Railway wiz a jint-venture tween the Coal Board an the Laird o Wemyss, him havin 51% (no daft!). The line ran fae the Wellesley pit in Methil, roond the back o Buckhind an East Wemyss tae the Michael Pit. At wan time, ah think the Randolph wiz connected as weel.
Coal wiz taen fae the Michael, which didnae hae a washer, tae the Wellesley, which had two. Ah think ah wid hae done that diffrent.
The locos were aw ex-British Railways steam 0-6-0s. (This wiz before British Railways lost the 'way' an became British Rail). If ye're intae that sort o thing, they were a mix o 'pannier-tanks' an 'WD90 saddle-tanks'.
Eck runs a toy shop noo, so if ye want tae ken mair, ask him! Anyway, the 'Wemyss Private Railway' was a joint-venture between the Coal Board and the Laird of Wemyss, who owned 51% (clever, eh!). The line ran from the Wellesley Colliery in Methil, around the back of Buckhaven and East Wemyss, to the Michael Colliery. At one time, I believe that the Randolph Colliery was also connected.
Coal was taken from the Michael, which didn't have a coal-seperation plant, to the Wellesley, which had two. I would probably, have done things diffrently.
The locomotives were all ex-British Railways steam 0-6-0s. (This was before British Railways lost the 'way', and became British Rail). If you're into that sort of thing, they were a mix of 'pannier-tanks' and 'WD90 saddle-tanks'.
Eck runs a toy shop now, so, if you want to know more, ask him!

Tae start wi, we yaised tae hing aroond the level-crossin at Starkies Wids, an see if we could cadge a lift on the brake van, up tae the loco-sheds at the Wemyss. The gairds got tae ken us efter a while an it got tae be a regular thing. When ithers were hingin aroond street corners, freezin in the cauld o winter, we wiz runnin up an doon the line, cozied up tae a warm stove in the brake-van. To start with, we used to hang around the level-crossing at Starkies Woods, and see if we could scrounge a lift on the brake-van, up to the locomotive-sheds, at the Wemyss. The guards got to know us after a while, and it became a regular thing. When others were hanging around street corners, freezing in the cold of winter, we were running up and down the line, huddled up to a warm stove in the brake-van.

Awboddy that worked on the railway seemed tae be cawed Geordie, sos aw ye had tae say wiz ...
"Geordie tellt us it wiz aw richt"
... and we got tae dae pretty much as we pleased. Rules wisnae a big thing on railways in thae days, an on a 'private railway', well ...
In fact, we got tae be sae regular, that Geordie (the gaird) w'd tak a shift aff, an we w'd run the brake van. Everybody that worked on the railway, seemed to be named 'Geordie', so all that you had to say was ...
"Geordie toldt us that it was all right"
... and we were allowed to do, pretty much as we pleased. Rules were never a big thing, on the railways in those days, and as for a' private railway', well ...
In fact, we became so regular, that Geordie (the guard) would take a shift off, and we would run the brake van ourselves.

Startin fae the Wellesley, ye w'd couple up the empty wagons tae the loco, then, as the loco took up the strain, ye'd unwind the brake. The train wid puff an clank up the brae an under Denbeath Brig. If ye werenae peyin attention, the loco wid huff an puff an skite on the rails up the brae. Mind an tak the bluidy brake aff, ah tellt yiz! Startin from the Wellesley, you would couple up the empty wagons to the locomotive, then, as the locomotive took up the strain, you'd unwind the brake. The train would puff and clank, up the hill, and under Denbeath Brig. If you were not paying attention, the locomotive would huff and puff, and skid on the rails up the hill. Remember to take the bloody brake off, I told you!

Wan nicht, we'd jist started the first run tae the Wemyss. The stove wiz cauld, an the frost wiz hard on the grund. First thing tae dae wiz licht the stove. Ye cannae dae wi frozen fingers, an that nicht, we wiz too late tae get a shovel o hot coals fae the loco. We wiz aff up the brae, an couldnae wait.
"Ah ken" says Eck, expert on aw things railway ...
"We'll jist get some paraffin fae the red lamp. That'll get the coal tae burn!"
Nae sooner sayed than done.
"Hoo much'll ah yaise?" says me.
"Gie it plenty".
So ah did. An a wee bit mair, jist tae be shair. Eck lichts a match an chucks it in the stove. It lit, awricht! There wiz this big oarange fireball. Eck lost his eyebroos, an the wee tache he wiz prood o. Mah fringe got twa inches shorter an aw the wee bobbles on mah jersey vanished instantly.
Next thing, we're aw hingin ootside on the wee platform ye get on the back o a brake-van, watchin the flames shoot oot the door o the cabin. By this time, we jist happened tae be at the level-crossin at Starkies Wids. An watchin us, as he sat jist ahent the barrier, is the local bobby in his nice new blue an white 'panda-car'. One night, we'd just started the first run to the Wemyss. The stove was cold, and the frost was hard on the ground. The first thing to do, is light the stove. You can't manage with frozen fingers, and that night, we were too late to get a shovel full of hot coals from the locomotive. We were off, up the hill, so we couldn't wait.
"I know" says Eck, expert on all things railway ...
"We'll just take some paraffin from the red lamp. That'll get the coal to burn!"
No sooner said than done.
"How much will I use?" says me.
"Give it plenty".
So Ih did. And a little extra, just to be certain. Eck lights a match, and throws it into the stove. It lit, alricht! There was this big, orange fireball. Eck lost his eyebrows, and the little moustache that he was so proud of. My fringe shortened by two inches, and all the tiny bobbles on my jersey, vanished instantly.
The next second, we're all hanging outside, on the little platform that they have on the back of a brake-van, watching the flames shoot out of the cabin door. At this moment, we just happened to be at the level-crossing at Starkies Woods. Watching us, as he sat there, next to the barrier, is the local policeman in his nice, new, blue and white 'panda-car'.

Whit can ye dae? He's sittin there, waitin fur the train tae gang by, an the 'Black an White Minstrel Show' is trundlin by on a blazin brake-van. Oor faces wiz scorched an black. Flames an reek are awplace. Only wan thing tae dae. Gie him a wee wave an a glossy smile. Act natural. See if he notices onnything.
Five minutes later, the flames have subsided an we're up near Wellsgreen. Naeboddy's chasin us, sos ah reckon we're OK fur the nicht.
We're warm enough, an there's work tae be done when we get tae the Wemyss. There's ayeweys time fur a fag, so we share a companionable draw while we wait fur the smok tae clear. It's gaun tae be a guid nicht. What can you do? He's sitting there, waiting for the train to go by, and the 'Black and White Minstrel Show' is trundling by, on a blazing brake-van. Our faces were scorched and blackened. Flames and smoke were everywhere. Only one thing to do. Give him a quick wave, and a glossy smile. Act natural. See if he notices anything.
Five minutes later, the flames have subsided, and we're up near the Wellsgreen. Nobody is chasing us, so I reckon that we're OK for the night.
We're warm enough, and there's work to be done, when we arrive at the Wemyss. There's always time for a cigarette, so we share a companionable draw, while we wait for the smoke to clear. It's going to be a good night.

Next, Ah'll tell yiz aboot shuntin the wagons, an why it's no a guid idea tae hae a pee in a biler-hoose. Next, I will tell you about shunting the wagons, and why it isn't a good idea, to take a pee in a boiler-house.

Are yiz ready fur some real work, then? Furget yer aerobics, yer weight trainin an 'goin fur the burn'! Cause the loco's taen the train up tae the hump in the shuntin yaird, an it's time tae set up a coal train. Are you ready for some real work, then? Forget your aerobics, your weight training and 'going for the burn'! Because, the locomotive is pulling the train up to the hump in the shunting yard, and it's time to set up a coal train.

The furst thing we did wiz stop wi the brake-van jist on the crest o the hump. Oot we got, sherpish like, an no forgettin the couplin-pole. These days, it's aw auto-matic couplins that connects the train th'gether.
Ah'm shair yis has aw seen the bit in the film whaur the 'guidy' an the 'baddie' are fechtin atween the twa wagons, wi the 'baddie' swingin an axe. The 'guidy' pu's the pin oot, an the 'baddie' is left, lookin glaikit on the ither hauf o the train. Usually as it starts tae run awa doon the hill. The first thing that we did, was to stop with the brake-van, just on the crest of the hump. Out we got, sharpish like, not forgetting the coupling-pole. These days, it's all automatic couplings that connect the train together.
You must have seen the part in the film, where the 'goodie' and the 'baddie' are fighting between the two wagons, with the 'baddie' swinging an axe. The 'goodie' pulls the pin out, and the 'baddie' is left, lookin stupid, on the other half of the train. Usually, as it starts to run away down the hill.

Somehow, it wisnae like that fur us - apairt fae the glaikit bit!
The wagons aw had thick chains hingin fae a hook - wan at each end. Aw ye had tae dae wiz tae tak the wee hook on the end o yir shuntin-pole, catch the last link o thick chain, an flip it aff the big hook on the other wagon. Easy! In, hook, flip, an the brake-van wiz uncoupled. Nae bother!
Oh ... an ah forgot tae mention that the chain weighed aboot thirty pund, ye had tae reach in past the buffers, an ye had tae time it jist as the strain come aff the couplin. Keepin well clear o the buffers.
We stuck a penny on the brake-van buffers, wan time. Stuck it on wi choong-gum. Efter the buffers had smacked aff the buffers on the wagon, we had a penny the size o a saucer! Definitely keep clear o the buffers! Somehow, it wasn't like that for us - apart from the 'stupid' bit!
The wagons all had thick chains, hanging from a hook - one at each end. All you had to do. was to use the small hook, on the end of your shunting-pole, catch the last link of thick chain, and flip it off the big hook on the other wagon. Easy! In, hook, flip - brake-van uncoupled. Easy!
Oh ... I did forget to mention, that the chain weighed about thirty pounds, you had to reach in, past the buffers, and you had to time it exactly, just as the strain come off the coupling. Keepin well clear of the buffers.
We stuck a penny on the brake-van buffers, one time. Stuck it on with chewing-gum. After the buffers had smacked against the buffers on the other wagon, we had a penny the size of a saucer! Definitely keep clear of the buffers!

The loco w'd tak aw the empty wagons awa, an we'd let the brake van start tae run doon the hump towards the next train o fu wagons. Makin shair that we'd switched the points tae roll on tae the richt track.
"Did ye set the points, Eck?"
"What?"
"Ah sayed. Did ye set the points, Eck?"
"Thocht you were daen that?"
"Naw! Ah'm in chairge o the brake."
Meanwhile, the brake-van is getherin speed.
"You did that the last time!"
"No. Ah didnae!"
"Ye did!" The locomotive would take all the empty wagons away, then we'd let the brake van start to run down from the hump, towards the next train of full wagons. Making sure that we'd switched the points to roll on to the right track.
"Did you set the points, Eck?"
"What?"
"I said. Did you set the points, Eck?"
"I Thought that you were doing that?"
"No! I'm in charge of the brake."
Meanwhile, the brake-van is gathering speed.
"You did that, the last time!"
"No. I did not!"
"You did!"

Next thing there's twa o us jumpin oot the van an racin doon the track tae the switch. Ye ken, point-switches dinnae hauf get stiff when yer in a hurry. An we are in a helluva hurry as the brake-van rumbles up tae the switch. Suddenly, the point clanks across an the unmanned van lurches intae the richt sidin.
"Jist made that!" says Eck.
"Aye, we did." says me. "Wha's on the brake?"
"You sayed you wiz!"
"No ah wisnae!"
"Aw naw!" baith o us says. Next thing, the two of us are jumping down from the van, and racing down the track to the switch. You know, point-switches become amazingly stiff, when you're in a hurry. And we were in one desperate hurry, as the brake-van rumbles up to the switch. Eventually, the point clanks across, and the unmanned van lurches into the right siding.
"Just made that!" says Eck.
"Aye, we did." says me. "Who's on the brake?"
"You said that you were!"
"No, I did not!"
"Oh no!" said both of us.

We're runnin doon the track, fa'in ower the sleepers an the ballast. The brake van's rollin towards the train. We jump on, an intae the cabin. Eck starts burlin the brake-wheel. The brake blocks are squealin, an ah think ah wiz tae! We're slowin - but no enough. Like hittin an anvil wi a hammer, so it is. Whit a smack! Coorse, we're on the flair by this time an aw the hot coals have shot oot the stove an are rattlin aroond us. Talk aboot tracer-bullets. This is startin tae get awfy familiar - the smell o burnin jersey. Up we get, smoulderin in aw the wrang places, an pile oot the brake-van tae see the devastation.
"Looks awricht" says Eck. "Ca see onny damage."
"OK. Get the shuntin pole an couple it up." Were running down the track, falling over the sleepers and the ballast. The brake van is rolling towards the train. We jump on, and into the cabin. Eck starts turning the brake-wheel. The brake blocks are squealing, and, possibly, I was also! We're slowing - but not enough. Like hitting an anvil with a hammer, so it was. What a smack! Of course, we're on the floor by this time, and all the hot coals have shot out of the stove, and are rattling around us. Talk aboot tracer-bullets. This is starting to become terribly familiar - the smell of burning clothing. Up we get, smouldering in all the wrong places, an jump out from the brake-van, to see the devastation.
"Looks alright" says Eck. "I can't see any damage."
"OK. Get the shunting pole, and couple it up."

As Eck is couplin up the wagons, an ah must say, daen a professional job o it, Ah'm casting mah professional eye ower the brake-van. An then ah notices it. Ah'm shair the cabin wiz set richt in the middle o the wagon base it sits on. No, it overhangs the base by six inches, an there's a six-inch ledge at th'ither end that wiz never there before. Should ah say onnythin? Naw! Best no tae ...
"Richt" says Eck "We've got five minutes afore we go back tae the Wellesley, an ah'm needin a pee."
"So am ah. It's too cauld tae dae it richt here. That wind fair cuts through ye." As Eck was coupling up the wagons, and, I must say, doing a professional job of it, I was casting my professional eye over the brake-van. Then I noticed it. I am certain that the cabin was set right in the middle of the wagon base, it sat on. No! Now, it overhung the base by six inches, and there is a six-inch ledge at the other end, that was never there before. Should I say something?. No!. Best not too ...
"Right" says Eck "We've got five minutes before we go back to the Wellesley, and I'm needing a pee."
"So am I. It's too cold to do it right here. That wind surely cuts through you."

We both looked across at the water tower they yaise tae fill the locos. It's got a wee biler underneath tae stop the water fae freezin, an the fire door fur the biler is doon hauf-a-dizzen steps, ahent a wee wa'.
Fine. Naeboddy'll see us. It'll be warm, oot o the wind an next tae a red- hot biler fire-door. Hae a pee. Smok a fag. Then back tae the train. We both looked across at the water tower, that they use to fill the locomotives. It had a small boiler underneath, to prevent the water from freezing. The fire door for the boiler, was down half-a-dozen steps, behind a small wall.
Fine. Nobody will see us. It'll be warm, out of the wind, and next to a red-hot boiler fire-door. Have a pee. Smoke a cigarette. Then back to the train.

Dae ken which wan o us eedjits thocht o it furst. Nae doubtin that great minds think alike. If ye pee on a red-hot cast-iron door, ye get steam. James Watt w'd be prood o us.
Don't try this at hame. Really, ah mean it. The second the pee hit the door, we were engulfed in the foulest steam ah've ever experienced. It wiz like bein in the trenches on the Somme, wi the Germans firin poison-gas at us! Coughin an chokin, eyen waterin an oor noses on fire, we focht oor wey up they steps. Forget bein pals. We'd walk ower the tap o onyboddy tae get oot o there. I do not know which one of us idiots, thought of it first. No doubt that great minds think alike. If you pee on a red-hot cast-iron door, you get steam. James Watt would be proud of us.
Don't try this at home. Really, I mean it. The second, the pee hit the door, we were engulfed in the foulest steam that I have ever experienced. Like being on the Somme, with the Germans firing poison-gas at us! Coughing and choking, eyes watering and our noses on fire, we fought our way up those steps. Forget being friends. We would have trampled on anybody to escape.

We ran back tae the brake-van jist as the loco took up the strain. This time, we remembered the brake. Off tae the Wellesley. We managed tae fund enough burnin coal tae get the stove gaun again. So it's licht up the fags again, an out tae the van platform tae watch the world go by. We ran back to the brake-van, just as the locomotive took up the strain. This time, we remembered the brake. Off to the Wellesley. We found enough burning coal, to get the stove going again. So it's 'light up the cigarettes', stand on the platform, and watch the world go by.

"Diz this cabin look squint tae you?" says Eck.
"Naw! It's jist the fumes affectin ye. Ye'll be aw richt the morn." "Does this cabin look squint to you?" says Eck.
"No! It's just the fumes affecting you. You'll feel better tomorrow."