Booze, Blues, and Bullied Pacifics (2)

The booze was in the second carriage from the front, the Blues was in the Guard's van, and the train was being hauled by a Bullied Pacific. It had started steaming at Eleven at night, and was not due to stop until seven the next morning, although the train was still stopping at Corfe Castle and Harmans Cross to put down and pick up revellers according to how their legs and fancy felt. The guard and assistants kept watch to make sure that no unsteady feet should put the departing boosers under the train.

We numbered, well, few of us could count. We'd started with a pub-crawl at lunchtime in Swanage, (full of Morris-dancers for the annual folk-festival), come back up the line to Harmans Cross and barbequed from mid-afternoon through till seven, had then jumped on the train to Corfe Castle for a pub-crawl that only missed one pub because it was too far away to walk to.
Following our noses to what we thought might be a kebab-van, we had found this train waiting for us back at Corfe station. It was the end-of-term party for the Swanage railway, who had just hosted a spectacular long weekend of continuous steam operation, combined with a steam fair and classic car display in the field alongside the line at Harmans Cross.

We were the RSSOC (Dorset). We tended to call ourselves the Russocks, because the other form of pronounciation was Arse-ocks, and that didn't really suit our image, the Reliant Scimitar and Sabre Owners Club (Dorset Noggin). Our motto, "Barbie till we drop!"
We had got free entry to the field following an invitation from the Bournemouth and Poole Preservation Society, who had organised the classic car and steam fair. Foden steam lorries gave rides to children, a steam fairground organ played all day long, autojumble stalls lined the field adjoining the trackside and kept a wary eye on falling cinders.

In addition to the free entry and camping, we found that we each had a ticket giving us free and unlimited train travel all weekend. We also had our mascot on the train with us, Milo the Bassethound, who was also sampling the beer. MIlo needed hospitalisation after trying to eat a wasp and (understandably) getting stung. It transpired he had an allergic reaction to wasp venom.

The Booze was good, although the choice was limited to real ale or lager, both in kegs, at prices that made you want to say "forget the glass, I'll take a barrel". The Blues was excellent, so good that I found it hard to believe they were volunteers, like everyone else who works on the Swanage Railway. They were rolling out everything from Stones to Ry Cooder, and even slipped in a Screamin' Jay Hawkins song that I called out for. And the Bullied Pacific was, well, steaming strong despite being over fifty years old. We rocked over points and rolled from side to side all night long.

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