The day I signed for an engine.

One morning I arrived at Chesterfield railway station to catch a train to Birmingham.  I was surprised to see the platform heaving with people. My heart sank when it was announced that the Master Cutler train to London had broken down, as I realised my train would be stuck behind it.

However my spirits were raised when I noticed a light engine positioned beyond the platform and was informed that The Cutler was slowly making its way to Chesterfield.  The train's engine would be put in the bay platform and the engine I could see would be attached.

In short time this duly happened and The Cutler was on its way.  My train was but minutes away and by the time it left Chesterfield was only twenty minutes late.

Some of my fellow passengers worked at Derby locomotive works and were looking at the failed locomotive stood in the bay. One pointed out to me that the problem was a broken oil sump and opined that the driver probably could have got the train to Leicester.

It was at this juncture as I was bent down looking at the engine that I felt a tap on the shoulder. Behind me was a man in a very clean pastel blue boiler suit carrying a folding clip-board.   What's up with it then? he enquired.  I regaled him with the information I had received: broken sump, could have gone on to Leicester.  Right then, sign here squire he said as he opened his clipboard and pointed to where he wanted me to sign. 

I duly obliged.  My train came in just as I signed the piece of paper and off we went.  Now, the man in blue obviously took me for a railway employee. In winter I wore a black coat and had been mistaken for a funeral director, a British rail employee and horror of horrors, an accountant.

A few days later I am standing on the platform at Chesterfield and am approached by the platform foreman, Don.  Were you here the day the Cutler failed? said he.  Strange question thought I, so gave a non-committal answer.  It transpired that after my train had left the man in the pastel blue boiler suit had decided the failed engine could be moved under its own power  along the goods lines where it had promptly locked up.  It had taken the best part of the rest of  the day to shift it.  Our man in blue had been cursing those b****rs from the works who think they know it all.