1968 and all that

The National Rail­way Museum means well, bless its heart.  Hop­ing to make a little money, no doubt, from folks who had not a lot to do at half-term, they set up a 1968 nos­tal­gia fest. (40 years on from the end of sched­uled steam on BR).  Alas, I fear that for the organ­isers this had been research into ancient his­tory, for the fla­vour of those heady days in sum­mer 68 was not recap­tured at all. (And I don’t mean les evene­ments at the Sor­bonne in the same year either).  It’s all very well hav­ing Oliver Crom­well and Even­ing Star and Clun Castle and a Jubilee and a well-tank and a couple of delight­ful freight locos lined up in light steam but the only things mov­ing were piddly.  Those of us who trav­elled through the night to see grimy 8Fs and Black 5s lit up by the first rays of the June sun, who stood in fields of wil­low herb to watch the last rail­tours of the last weeks of steam blast double headed over the hills and via­ducts in Lan­cashire, who cher­ish the steam loco­mot­ive as a live, power­ful,  work­ing machine don’t get a lot from a static dis­play like this.  I’d rather have had dozens of screens show­ing film of those last days.  The rail­way museum does a great job — but a few acres in York can only be a museum — they are never going to re-create the steam rail­way. Nice try, and I’m glad the NRM’s there, but it’s reminded me that I should visit and sup­port more pre­served lines.