Winter Colour

"
The steam hissed. 
Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
"

Actually, they did. A young family dropped in as we were leaving, and the brewery tour party were on their way, to the delight of the engineer who told us it had been a "quiet day", and was clearly itching to get steam hissing and wheels turning. I think he had aready wiped every pipe with his oily rag several times over and was aching to put on a performance

Unlike the one at Adlestrop, this engine is static, installed in the base of the brewery tower since it was built in 1899, using a system of belts and pulleys, levers and slides, gears and shafts to hoist grain, pump liquids, mill, mash, rake and load. Where there are gears, one gear is metal and the other is wood, to reduce the risk of damage to cast iron teeth, if they should grind. The wood is hornbeam, the hardest and least brittle native timber. The brewery have planted hornbeam saplings just beyond the end of our garden, hoping to one day provide their own replacements

These days, the engine only runs on high days and holidays, and a regular monthly slot on the first Sunday. It was explained to us that the atmospheric steam, whilst making for a more dramatic picture, is actually a fault. Seals within the cylinder have worn to the point where adjustment nuts can be tightened no more, and replacement is necessary. Unfortunately, the old 'rope' seals include asbestos, so this is far from a routine repair. Time moves on

Thomas's poem was written at the height of the perfect summer of 1914, when the engine was in only its 15th year. I think it has endured because it captures that last moment of calm before the European old order collapsed in blood and filth. Something about an engine that was turning then and is turning now carries a little magic