Memories of Britain’s lost steam sleepers

In the early 1950s, as a very small school boy, I would travel between Inverness and London by steam sleeper train. The adventure started with tea in the Inverness Station Hotel while awaiting the train south. My parents never worried about my safety – unlike today, when children must have constant supervision from only the most stringently vetted adults.

When I arrived at the platform, I was met by the sleeper superintendent, a guard into whose charge I was given. He had a small cabin in the luggage van, which, depending upon the time of year, would be decked with strings of rabbits, salmon in plaited reed cases, grouse, pheasants and all manner of delicious wild things, destined for Smithfield Market. Often, there would be a dog or two in need of attention and water.

The guard would often ask me, as a child in his charge, if I wanted to help him serve early morning tea and biscuits with the following morning’s wake-up call.