Branch Line Blunders

Gone Away Gordon

Gordon was still fuming as he thundered along the line.

"Disgracefully!" he shouted to the fireman.

"Oh come now!" he responded nervously, "How was I supposed to know it was a floppy green hat?"

"Enough you two!" shouted the driver, "Gordon's what's done is done now we have to make up for lost time."

Gordon huffed and blew off smoke and steam right into the cab as he charged into the tunnel.

"Look here," said the fireman, coughing, "we'll fly through this station and by the time we reach Edward's Station we'll be back on schedule."

Gordon did pass the station in a flash and was rocketing through Edward's Station. Then it happened. Gordon felt a sudden jerk and swerve under his wheels.

"What was that?" he demanded.

The fireman peered out the right side of the cab to ensure they were still on the down line. To his surprise, there was no track there. He quickly scrambled to the left side only to confirm his suspicions.

"Horrors! We've been switched onto the branch line," he groaned, "We'd better slow down and flag the next signal box."

They had no need for the signalman had already set the signal to "danger" and was waiting next to the line with a red lamp. The driver went to speak with him while the fireman trotted to the back of the train to collect the guard. The driver had just finished talking with the signalman as the fireman and guard arrived at Gordon's buffer beam.

"Edward's train telephoned this signal box after the hill and alerted the Fat Controller of the confusion. He's already dispatched some buses to transfer passengers between trains at our next stations," explained the driver, "We'll have to go slowly since Gordon is heavier than what this line was originally designed for."

"Why can't I just turn back once after that!" protested Gordon.

"There are no turntables on this line, but there is wye at the docks. There's no sidings long enough to run round your coaches either, and regulations say we can't risk you pushing the train back."

"Oh the indignity, it's disgraceful," shouted Gordon. He kept on moaning and complaining but it did him no good. "And," remarked Gordon ending his tirade, "I'll have to sleep on some dirty, backwater, seaside, branch line siding. BLAH!"

This outburst seemed to have exhausted Gordon's grievances for the time so when his driver suggested they start again to which Gordon begrudgingly agreed. His driver had no need to check his speed as Gordon tried his best to avoid having to take a rest on some cold siding. They arrived at the next station where people were slowly ferried and crammed into a line of waiting buses. All except one coach had alighted when a final bus appeared.

"So sorry I'm late!" called the bus, "I was slow to start up you see. What with it being so late an-"

"Oh stop your blathering and take my passengers. I just want to end this ordeal as soon as possible."

"Augh," recoiled the bus, "How rude! You're nothing like Thomas, he-"

"Oh don't mention him! Good gracious he'll surely revel in hearing about this!" moped Gordon.

"Oh I'm sure he will," chuckled the bus, "But if you see him first, tell him that Bertie has a story to tell him." Just then the last passenger boarded and Bertie sped away while Gordon seethed and growled.

Now devoid of passengers, Gordon crawled away to the docks. Once there he had to carefully maneuver his coaches into a siding before turning himself on a wye with much caution and disgrace.

"Bother, these sheds are too small," griped Gordon as he sulked around the docks. Then he saw a small roof over some trucks. The structure had no walls but Gordon was willing to take anything, even if he had to shunt some trucks. "Oh bless me a roof!" He had just cleared the line when the night manager came out waving his arms.

"You can't move those away. Those need to be kept under cover to dry in case it rains."

"You must be joking. A few trucks are worth protecting more than an engine like myself?"

"I don't make the orders, I just enforce them," stated the night manager. Gordon, but more so his crew, was too tired to bother entering into a spat so Gordon left with his fire drawn, cold and cross, on one of Edward's sidings. Gordon reluctantly spent the night longing for the day. It came faster than expected, but with two little yellow saddle tank engines. But that's a story for another time.