Author: Platypus Man

The North Norfolk Railway and the romance of steam

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One of the highlights of our recent visit to Norfolk was a trip on the county’s award-winning heritage railway. The North Norfolk Railway covers a distance of around 5.5 miles (9km), from the Georgian town of Holt to Sheringham, a seaside town on the North Norfolk coast. A nineteenth century poet once named the area around Sheringham as Poppyland, which was his way of paying homage to the masses of poppies that carpeted local fields. For this reason the railway is popularly known as the Poppy Line.

The countryside through which the Poppy Line passes is indeed scenic, the railway architecture is atmospheric and the historic rolling stock is eye-catching. However, I’m fairly certain the reason most people take a trip on the North Norfolk Railway is to get up close and personal with its steam locomotives.

Let’s be brutally honest for a minute – steam trains are the quintessential example of yesterday’s technology. They are noisy, smelly and dirty emitters of CO2, and as such are the very antithesis of the brave new, pollutant-free world we are trying to build in the 21st century. And yet, as the hordes of happy visitors to the Poppy Line prove, they remain massively popular. So we have to wonder, why is this? What is it that makes steam trains so popular?

It is, I suspect, because steam trains are perceived as characters in their own right. Modern transportation systems tend to be anonymous and sterile. Steam trains, however, have a life of their own, they are like “living machines”. The things that distress us about them – the noise, the smell, the pollution – are the very things that help give steam trains their distinctive personality. A journey on one of them is a massive and strangely appealing sensory experience. There’s nothing anonymous or sterile about a hissing locomotive clattering down the tracks while spewing smoke and steam into the sky.

And let’s not forget the nostalgia that steam trains evoke. We live in fraught, complex times and many of us hanker after a simpler way of life. Steam trains are the product of a bygone, simpler age and a journey on one is an invitation to wallow in nostalgia for a while. It’s romantic nonsense, of course – very few of us would actually have been happier living in the days when steam ruled supreme, in the days when fewer medical conditions were treatable, more people went hungry and nobody had a mobile phone! And were steam trains more comfortable and reliable than their modern day electric successors? I don’t think so!

But hey, escapism in small doses is not necessarily a bad thing, and the romance of steam – as served up by a journey on the North Norfolk Railway’s Poppy Line – offers the perfect opportunity to escape. I thoroughly recommend it.

The closest I’ll ever get to an Oscar…or a Nobel Prize!

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A few weeks ago, to break our journey home after visiting family down South, we called in at the house known as Shaw’s Corner. It is one of those National Trust properties that is remarkably unremarkable, with few if any architectural or design features that merit a second glance. I suspect it is part of the National Trust’s portfolio only because someone remarkable once lived on the premises. George Bernard Shaw definitely falls into that category, being one of only two* people ever to have won both an Oscar and a Nobel Prize.

George Bernard Shaw’s Oscar, awarded in 1939 for his screenplay of Pygmalion

George Bernard Shaw (1856 – 1950) was born in Dublin, but moved to London at the age of 20 to pursue a career as a writer. During his lifetime he wrote more than sixty plays, and as a committed socialist also passionately supported a range of progressive – and sometimes contentious – political and social causes. As the leading dramatist of his generation he was highly influential in the development of Western theatre, and as such was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1925.

Shaw’s Corner, George Bernard Shaw’s primary residence between 1906 and 1950, is remarkably unremarkable

Shaw’s most famous work – written in 1913 – was Pygmalion, a comic exploration of the class distinctions that are so deep-rooted within British society. In 1938 he adapted Pygmalion into a screenplay for a movie of the same name. This was further transformed into My Fair Lady in 1956, that movie being the creation of Lerner and Loewe as Shaw had refused to re-work it as a musical. It is for his original film adaptation that Shaw was awarded an Oscar.

As a witty and observant writer, George Bernard Shaw left behind a wealth of quotes that remain relevant today. Here are just a few that resonate with me:

“He knows nothing; and he thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career.”

“You don’t stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.”

“Both optimists and pessimists contribute to society. The optimist invents the aeroplane, the pessimist the parachute.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

“Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.”

Shaw’s Corner was the playwright’s primary residence between 1906 and his death in 1950. It was built in 1902 as the rectory for the village of Ayot St Lawrence in Hertfordshire. However the Church of England quickly decided the building was too large for the size of the parish. Shaw and wife took up residence instead, initially as tenants before buying the house and its land in 1920.

Spot the Oscar!

Today, the National Trust has laid out and furnished the rooms much as they were in Shaw’s time. His Academy Award statuette stands on the fireplace mantel, where visitors can admire it from afar. Meanwhile, the citation certificate for his Nobel Prize is securely displayed in an upstairs cabinet.

Citation certificate for the Nobel Prize for Literature, awarded in 1925

In my view, visiting a house simply because a famous person once lived there is not necessarily a good use of one’s time. Shaw’s Corner is an uninspiring property, and at no point could I sense the great man’s presence. But the time we spent there was not entirely wasted. Even though this blog is getting a lot of views these days it’s never going to win me any prizes. So, without doubt, Shaw’s Corner is the closest I’ll ever get to an Oscar or the Nobel Prize for Literature!

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* In case you are wondering, the other person to be awarded both an Oscar and the Nobel Prize for Literature was Bob Dylan.

Snoopy…Yesterday’s dog? No way!

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When we heard that Trentham Gardens were putting on a Snoopy sculpture trail, my initial thought was “Really? Every dog has his day, and Snoopy had his decades ago. Surely it’s only old fogeys like me who even know who he is? Snoopy’s history. He’s yesterday’s dog“. But it turns out I was totally wrong – Snoopy is back on trend.

“Tales for Tails” by Fernandes Makes

Snoopy made his debut in October 1950 in Peanuts, the comic strip creation of American cartoonist Charles M Schulz. Although his owner Charlie Brown was meant to be the strip’s central character, Snoopy quickly became the star of the show. When he wasn’t sleeping flat on his back on top of his kennel, the cute little beagle could be found writing short stories on his typewriter or imagining himself as a World War I flying ace. A kind and caring soul who lived most of his life inside his own head, Snoopy quickly caught the imagination of an adoring public.

“Golden Hound” by Becky Smith

But all good things must come to an end, so it would be no surprise if Snoopy had faded into obscurity by now. And yet, much to my surprise, it seems he’s become fashionable with Generation Z. Social media has breathed new life into an old dog, and Snoopy has become an iconic character on TikTok and Instagram. Who knew? Not me, that’s for sure…TikTok and Instagram are platforms at which my train has never stopped!

“Dreaming of the Mountains” by R P Roberts

Part of Snoopy’s appeal, it seems, is that he is a simple soul who is easily satisfied, a sweet little fantasist who can cope with anything life throws at him so long as his food bowl is full and his kennel is comfy. That makes him a bit of a hero in an increasingly complex, challenging world. So Trentham Gardens’ decision to host the Snoopy sculpture trail is perhaps not as wacky as I first believed.

“Snoopy’s Songbird Chorus” by Laura-Kate Draws

Once the site of a grand country house set in a landscaped park, in recent years the Trentham Estate on the outskirts of Stoke-on-Trent has been redeveloped as a leisure destination. Visitor numbers are the name of the game, so who can blame bosses at Trentham for enlisting Snoopy’s support.

“Fungi House” by Jodie Silverman

There were around a dozen Snoopy sculptures in total. Each featured the famous hound in his iconic pose atop his kennel. Snoopy himself is exactly as portrayed in the Schulz strips, a big-bellied white beagle with a black nose, black ears and a collar, lying on his back and staring wistfully into the sky. No doubt the licensing agreement made it quite clear that Snoopy must be unchanged, and therefore totally recognisable to fans both old and young. Where the artists did have freedom, however, was in how they painted the kennel. And so it was that the kennel became the artists’ canvas, giving them just enough space to let their imaginations run wild.

“Garden of Delights” by Cathy Simpson

Run wild they most certainly did. Mountains, flowers, butterflies and birds all adorn the kennels that we found scattered across Trentham’s gardens. As I’ve said many times before about similar sculpture trails, this is not high art. It won’t win any prizes, but this whimsical riot of colour undoubtedly lifted our spirits. Doing the Snoopy trail was a lot of fun, and don’t we all need some of that in these dark, dark days.

“Tales for Tails” by Fernandes Makes

Did Mr P have a favourite Snoopy, I hear you ask? Yes, I most certainly did! For me, a guy who spent pretty much his whole working life in the book business, the most entertaining of all the sculptures was Tales for Tails by Fernandes Makes. It featured Snoopy’s kennel as a library, enabling us to see what he’s been reading. I just love a good pun, and I love a bad pun even more! Take a look below at some of the titles that I spotted on Snoopy’s library shelves and you’ll see why this latter-day librarian was bowled over by the beagle.

  • Romeo and Drooliet, by William Shakepaw
  • Lord of the Fleas
  • Game of Bones
  • Of Mice and Mastiffs
  • Jurassic Bark
  • Sherlock Bones
  • Fetch 22
  • The Dogfather

Way to go, Snoopy!

A trip down memory lane (the Bees are buzzing at last!)

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A few weeks ago, during our trip down south, I attended my first professional football (soccer) game in half a century. Back in my teenage years, whenever my local team was playing a home game I’d make the journey to their Griffin Park stadium to watch the action. Brentford (aka the Bees) weren’t very good in those days, barely hanging on in the fourth division of the English Football League. But the team’s mediocrity didn’t bother me one bit – going regularly to the football was a window into the world of adults, and offered the chance to escape for a while from the pressures placed upon me by a school that had exceptionally high expectations of its pupils.

So, for six or seven years, my mate Pete and I stood behind the goal at the Royal Oak end of Griffin Park, watching the football and hoping for a miracle. This taught me a lot about how to manage disappointment, but rather less about the joys of what is somewhat bizarrely known as the beautiful game. Football as played by Brentford was invariably disappointing, but rarely – if ever – beautiful. Pete and I would try our best to urge them on, yelling “COME ON YOU BEES!” at the top of our voices every time it seemed possible they might score, but it never did much good. Some teams are clearly destined to succeed; sadly, Brentford, in the late sixties and early seventies, was not one of them.

But all good things come to an end, and so too did my devotion to the Bees. At eighteen I moved away from London to go to university, and never lived in the city again. Brentford was no longer my local team, but I had in any case fallen out of love with soccer. I never attended another professional football match…until last month!

Brentford is my godson Mark’s local team, and although he’s recently moved a little way out of London, he still travels in by train to watch them play. And these days, there’s an added incentive – after decades in the doldrums, Brentford are doing well. They are now a Premier League team, and play their home games at a new, ultra-modern stadium. At last, the Bees are buzzing!

Knowing that I had once – long before he was even born! – been a devoted Brentford fan, Mark kindly invited me to go to a game with him. I was pleased to agree, intrigued to see if, deep within me, the fire of soccer fandom still burned. The stadium was amazing, totally unlike my previous experience. For the first time ever, I was able to sit down to watch a football match – back in the “good old days” almost everyone attending a Brentford home game had to stand up, which was a bit uncomfortable but at least meant we could escape quickly once the final whistle had sounded!

Another shock was the big screen, which makes it possible for spectators to see video replays of goals and other major incidents during the game. Such a thing would have been unimaginable when I was a big Brentford fan. Sadly there were no goals on the day of my visit – Brentford were playing Fulham (aka the “River Rats”), and the final score was a disappointing nil-nil draw. However, at least spectators could console themselves by stuffing away some tasty snacks and drinks bought from one of numerous food outlets scattered throughout the stadium. I don’t remember anything like that when I was a regular at Griffin Park 50 years ago.

I was also surprised by the large, well-stocked merch store, which was stuffed full of items that were obviously designed to separate the dedicated Brentford fan from his hard-earned money. It looked great but served as another reminder that, these days, professional football isn’t just a game, it’s big business.

And that, I think, is my problem with it. The sums of money involved in modern top-tier professional football are enormous, even obscene. The “beautiful game” has morphed into big business, and however entertaining any one game might be I can’t help thinking a lot of the money that oils soccer’s wheels would be better spent supporting community causes and local people in need. I did enjoy my trip down memory lane to see Brentford play once more. I would happily repeat the experience, but watching the game a few weeks ago confirmed for me that although nostalgia ensures the Bees will always remain dear to my heart, soccer will never again be as important to me as it was back in my teenage years. Football has moved on, and so have I.

Wordless Wednesday – Tunnel vision

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Wordless Wednesday is a simple blog post featuring a photo. It seeks to convey a message or tell a story, but speaks for itself without using words. Mrs P took this photo at St Pancras station in London in October 2025. It features a 90m long “art wall tunnel”, created using LED lights sitting behind toughened glass, that links the station with Pancras Square and Coal Drops Yard. Spooky!

Bad timing!

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Don’t you just hate it when you make a bold public statement, only to be proved totally wrong just seconds later! We witnessed a perfect example during our visit to Sculthorpe Moor Nature Reserve in Norfolk a couple of weeks ago, when an enormous rat put in an unscripted – and thoroughly unwelcome – appearance, much to the dismay of one of the Reserve’s volunteer staff.

The Reserve is run by the Hawk and Owl Trust, and boasts a range of habitats including wetlands and woodlands. One of our favourite spots for birdwatching there is the Tower Hide. Sitting atop posts several metres tall, the wooden structure overlooks wetland to the east while offering great views into the tree canopy on the west. A bird table attached to the western side of the hide, directly in front of the viewing windows, is loaded with tasty and nutritious seeds. It enables visitors to admire at close quarters the birds that land there to feed. Unless, of course, the rats get there first!

Brown Rats are not native to the UK, but arrived here in the early-to-mid 18th century. Originating from Central Asia and Russia, they came as stowaways on ships, with some theories linking their arrival to timber trade ships from the Baltic – hence their Latin name rattus norvegicus. Once on British soil this resourceful rodent thrived, and became a menace to various species of birds by predating their eggs and chicks as well as spreading diseases like Salmonella. Needless to say, birdwatchers and Brown Rats are not the best of friends.

We visit Sculthorpe Moor most years, and have always been saddened to see Brown Rats partying on the bird table attached to the western edge of the Tower Hide. Their presence makes it difficult and possibly very dangerous for our avian friends to feed there, with the result that most birds approach with extreme caution, if at all. Whether you’re a bird or a birdwatcher you just don’t need it. So imagine our delight when we noticed, during our most recent visit, that rats were conspicuous by their absence.

The only other person in the Tower Hide at the time, a volunteer who works at the Reserve, explained that special measures had recently been taken to prevent rats accessing the table from both the surrounding trees and from the hide’s external walkways. These appeared to have been successful, she said, and the bird table had been declared a rat-free zone. It was, we all thought, a cause for celebration. And then, literally seconds after she had finished speaking, a rat clambered onto the bird table and, looking very pleased with itself, began to feast on bird food.

The poor volunteer was embarrassed and horrified in equal measure. She dashed out of the hide to chase away the wretched rodent, and then went off to inform her colleagues on the Reserve’s team that their efforts had been in vain. We, meanwhile, shook our heads in disbelief, both at the rat’s audacity and at the bad timing of the volunteer’s comments to us. You couldn’t make it up!

Following the departures of rat and volunteer a few birds began to return to the table, and we settled down to watch their feeding behaviour. But not for long, as just a few minutes later the rat re-appeared. And this time he brought a friend.

With all hope gone of seeing birds on the table any time soon we exited the hide and set off to explore other parts of the Reserve. About 40 minutes later we encountered the volunteer again and felt obliged to update her with the news that not one but two rats had found their way onto the bird table at the Tower Hide. She looked crestfallen, seemingly lost for words, so we simply wished her well and went on our way, leaving her to reflect no doubt on the masterful adaptability of Brown Rats and the embarrassment that may result from bad timing!