Helston Branchline Tales 2

All photos: Neal Megaw

April 2025

Cutting the Sod, The Old Chapel, Helston

April 13 2025

Well, that was a fun event! Delightful newly re-purposed venue, a lovely audience up for the ride, a rich seam of stories and memories, evocative archive pictures, shiny nineteeth century technology and, to top it all, plenty of cake. For those who were there, thank you for coming and for those who weren't we thought we would share a couple of stories, some projections from the photo archive at The Museum of Cornish life and some of Neal's photos.

Anna and I were the story engineers, hence the overalls. Tony the projectionist which is why he looks so dapper. Neal also had overalls as sound engineer as well as photographer.

We had written stories inspired by the Helston branchline during its 80 year life and its re-incarnation in 2005. As ever we played fast and loose with time and reality. All of the characters in the stories were travelling either in or out of Helston on the train. Each story was illustrated by a slide illuminated by Tony's glorious magic lantern. After the cakey tea break in the 'buffet car', people in the audience shared their own memories and stories. One woman told a strange, inexplicable story of her father returning to a train station in London during the WW2 which he perceived as real and functioning, only to be told when he reached home that it had been bombed and flattened the previous week... One remembered her partner's grandfather who used to grow violets on Tregonning Hill. They would be picked early morning, tied with ivy into bunches, packed in boxes which were stacked on his bike. He then cycled to Nancegollan Station from where they were sent up to Covent Garden via Gwinear Road. Another mentioned her father having violets sent up to London from home near Bodmin for him to wear in his buttonhole. Another who as a very small boy travelled with his father on the final train on the Helston line - he did confess to not remembering very much but knew that it meant a lot to his dad.

As you can imagine the Magic Lantern was a great hit and Tony was in great demand to show how it worked

Here is a taste of a couple of the stories

Cutting the Sod

Amanda Harris

With apologies to Robert Graves and his poem ‘Welsh Incident’

‘But that was nothing to who gathered

In the Guildhall yonder.’

 ‘Who were they?’

 ‘A brigade of worthy men uncomfortable in black.

Like an oozy slick they seeped out into the Coinagehall,

Their polished shoes

Refracting rainbow light on the damp cobbles.

The Mayor out front, his chain of office gleaming

And proud on his rotund belly.’

‘Where did they go? When was it?  What O’clock?’

‘It was two O’clock on Wednesday March 22nd

1882.

They took at sharp left into Wendron Street

Under the triumphal arch

‘Perseverance Ensures Success’

Up Godolphin Road.

Starting to puff a bit by then.

Urged on by the Helston Town Band

Playing the Helston Foray and The Song of the Western Men

On thirty seven shimmering instruments.

As one they processed left into the newly named

Station Road.’

‘But who were they?’

‘I was coming to that. 

First came the mayor and his deputy.

Proud and civic.

Then the freemasons.

A lot of them.

Then the shareholders.

Didn’t recognise many,

Except for Ronald, ‘Bony’, Kneebone, the butcher.

All cleaned up without his blood-stained apron.

At the rear in a large pink hat

Like salmon flotsam

Mrs Bickford Smith struggling to keep pace

In her exaggerated skirts.’

‘Why were they there?’

‘Progress, my dear, progress.

The populations of Breage, Sithney, Nancegollan,

 Praze and Beeble, Wendron, Carnkie

And the Lizard

Were all assembled,

Though kept apart for fear of a fracas.

Presented with the magnificent ceremonial spade,

The Mayor, with an awkward flourish, dug deep into the soil

Cutting the first sod of the

Helston to Gwinear Railway.

Cheers and huzzahs erupted from the crowd.

But as they quietened and jostled their way to the tea tent

From out of the ground came a noise’

‘What kind of noise? A shout? A scream? A heckle?’

‘No, nothing at all of anything like that

But a low rumbling, aching sound from deep inside the ground

Like grandpa when someone has accidently stood on his corns …’

‘What did the Mayor do?’

‘I was coming to that …’

Mr Lindsey from Museum of Cornish Life top right

Mr Lindsey

Annamaria Murphy 

Mr. G. Lindsey: Mr. G Lindsey here. First passenger guard for the Helston Railway. As my wife will attest, this uniform took a lot of ironing, which isn’t her favourite occupation, and I can’t say I blame her. Not only that, but the brass buttons require much polishing. Like headlights they are.

But I have to say, I’m some proud and the tailor has done a fine job, and this uniform and me spare one has lasted my whole tenure on this fine branch.

It’s been an honour indeed, but me and my predecessors have seen some rum ones over the years, present company not included of course.

The donkey wrangler being one of them.

Then Granny Boswell, who was thrown off for cursing at Nancegollan , only to get back on at Gwinear Road.

That young maid who was determined that her baby would be born in Helston so she could one day lead the dance.

Rabbits of course, dead, more than you could shake a stick at.

Broccoli, daffodils, livestock of various descriptions.

Temo Ziller , third wife of Bob Fitzsimmons and his Diamond kisses. Now there’s a story.

The Hal-an-tow crew dressed head to foot in branches, twigs everywhere .

But, as I’ve always said, long as they’ve got a valid ticket, they’ve been welcome on my trains.

...

 No events happen without so many people behind the scenes. So huge thank you to Guy, Jonathan and Charlotte at Trevow for commissioning and hosting us so beautifully, to the Museum of Cornish Life for sharing their amazing photo archive, to the Helston Railway Preservation Society for sharing their knowledge and stories, to the volunteers and cake makers, to Neal for his great photos and tech support and to Nancy, Mike, Sheena and Leia.

We really hope we can do this again!

I may go silent for a while because... Tony and I are off on a new train adventure. Hurrah!

Enjoy the Spring - it's a good year for violets.