A while ago Amey Rail asked me to go and photograph their railway track maintenance equipment. The first was somewhere between Newbury and Theale, and at three o'clock in the morning. "But it'll be dark" I said to my client. "Yes, I suppose it might be" she yawned. This was a giant piece of kit that moved along a previously surveyed section of track marked out with aerosoled flashes on the sleepers. It bodily lifted up the rails, and shoved exactly the right quantity of ballast underneath, and then dropped the rails back again. It was the most noisy, bone-shaking thing I'd ever been on, and I felt whatever the landlubber equivalent is of being sea-sick. I was so relieved to get off at a moment's respite in order to take this shot. The workmen looked down on me like a bomber crew, giving thumbs-up like they would to ground staff. It was called a Stoneblower, and of course was made in Germany. The second commission couldn't have been more different. A sunny day out on the Dart Valley Railway in Devon with tamper 'Eddie King'. Amey train their bomber crews on the line, a good deal for the preserved railway because they get their track sorted out for nothing. An incredible night and day on the wrong side of the tracks.
Growing up in a town that until recently made textiles, lathes, weaving looms and cranes I always look to see where things are made. In fact, only yesterday I was peering at the maker's plate on a set of new buffers at St Pancras Station. German, naturally.
I found a pair of British made socks in Tesco at the weekend. I almost fainted with surprise.
I bet you've also spotted the manufacturer of the ironwork of the original trainshed. I used to trace with my already dirty fingers the soot-encrusted letters telling me of the Derbyshire firm of Butterley, until my father gave me a bollocking.
After ten years of living here in the Cotswolds I'm still surprised when stepping out of my front door into the main street to see that the older drain- and manhole-covers actually bear the name of a "Plumber and Sanitary Engineer" based right here in our small town.
I am a designer, writer and photographer who spends all his time looking at England, particularly buildings and the countryside. But I have a leaning towards the slightly odd and neglected, the unsung elements that make England such an interesting place to live in. I am the author and photographer of over 25 books, in particular Unmitigated England (Adelphi 2006), More from Unmitigated England (Adelphi 2007), Cross Country (Wiley 2011), The Cigarette Papers (Frances Lincoln 2012), Preposterous Erections (Frances Lincoln 2012) and English Allsorts (Adelphi 2015)
"Open this book with reverence. It is a hymn to England". Clive Aslet
Preposterous Erections
"Enchanting...delightful". The Bookseller "Cheekily named" We Love This Book
The Cigarette Papers
"Unexpectedly pleasing and engrossing...beautifully illustrated". The Bookseller
Cross Country
"Until the happy advent of Peter Ashley's Cross Country it has, ironically, been foreigners who have been best at celebrating Englishness". Christina Hardyment / The Independent
More from Unmitigated England
"Give this book to someone you know- if not everyone you know." Simon Heffer, Country Life. "When it comes to spotting the small but telling details of Englishness, Peter Ashley has no equal." Michael Prodger, Sunday Telegraph
A while ago Amey Rail asked me to go and photograph their railway track maintenance equipment. The first was somewhere between Newbury and Theale, and at three o'clock in the morning. "But it'll be dark" I said to my client. "Yes, I suppose it might be" she yawned. This was a giant piece of kit that moved along a previously surveyed section of track marked out with aerosoled flashes on the sleepers. It bodily lifted up the rails, and shoved exactly the right quantity of ballast underneath, and then dropped the rails back again. It was the most noisy, bone-shaking thing I'd ever been on, and I felt whatever the landlubber equivalent is of being sea-sick. I was so relieved to get off at a moment's respite in order to take this shot. The workmen looked down on me like a bomber crew, giving thumbs-up like they would to ground staff. It was called a Stoneblower, and of course was made in Germany. The second commission couldn't have been more different. A sunny day out on the Dart Valley Railway in Devon with tamper 'Eddie King'. Amey train their bomber crews on the line, a good deal for the preserved railway because they get their track sorted out for nothing. An incredible night and day on the wrong side of the tracks.
4 comments:
Growing up in a town that until recently made textiles, lathes, weaving looms and cranes I always look to see where things are made. In fact, only yesterday I was peering at the maker's plate on a set of new buffers at St Pancras Station. German, naturally.
I found a pair of British made socks in Tesco at the weekend. I almost fainted with surprise.
I bet you've also spotted the manufacturer of the ironwork of the original trainshed. I used to trace with my already dirty fingers the soot-encrusted letters telling me of the Derbyshire firm of Butterley, until my father gave me a bollocking.
After ten years of living here in the Cotswolds I'm still surprised when stepping out of my front door into the main street to see that the older drain- and manhole-covers actually bear the name of a "Plumber and Sanitary Engineer" based right here in our small town.
At the flip of a manhole cover, would they now be known as the Drain Brain?
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