I was told we would arrive at Edinburgh Station in half an hour. After what seemed an eternity peace was restored and we careened off into the night.Īt about 6:30 am I was awaken by the porter with a cup of tea so strong you could stand the spoon up in it. Amid much banging and clattering mail was unloaded and more loaded. I was jolted awake awake at Crewe where the night train had come to halt. As we rumbled off into the night the words of the poem seemed to resonate with the clickety clack of the wheels over the joints in the rails and I was soon in the land of dreams. The poem, I knew from my studies, was a parody on Rudyard Kipling’s poem L’Envoi. The musical is based on a book of poems by T.S.Eliot, called “Old Possums Book of Practical Cats.” This was the ONLY book of poetry I had enjoyed/learned at school. If you have seen the musical “Cats” you’ll remember that one of the scenes/songs is about, “Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat” Saying “Skimble where is Skimble for unless he’s very nimble
The night train I was on is the one referred to in the second verse of the poem “ Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat” by T.S. Before so doing I imitated what my slumbering companion in the lower berth had done and put a sixpence in the heel of my shoes and left them by the door.Īs I lay there I wondered if there really was a “Skimbleshanks. Reaching my sleeper I climbed aboard and was led by a porter to my berth along with an admonition that “I had left it a bit late.” I was asked if I wanted tea in the morning (“yes”) and I was then left to undress and clamber into the upper berth. I wondered how many of the packages hurtling through the air would arrive unscathed.
#Skimbleshanks the railway cat full#
I had but a few minutes to spare so hurried up the platform past four enormous baggage vans which were being rapidly filled with bags full of mail. At Victoria I took the Tube (London Underground) Circle Line and emerged at Kings Cross Station. I packed my suitcase, grabbed a pie and a pint in the pub at the station and retraced my steps to Victoria Station. I went to the audit room and packed my audit bag (I still have it) waited till 3 pm and had my tea and sticky and left to take the train from the City to my home in Shoreham on the South Coast. I didn’t have a clue as to as what I was being told and was too scared to ask. The manager’s parting words – he was a man of few words – were to make sure I got a finnan haddie in the Callie when I arrived in Edinburgh. Upon my return I was given an envelope with a ticket on the night train to Edinburgh for that evening, a cash advance and the address of the B & B (which turned out to be part of a pub).
Again “asked” was a euphemism and I was told to go and read the letter of instructions and return to the manager’s office. “Seek” was a euphemism for “you are being transferred” and after a perfunctory interview I became one of 960 CA’s In DPG’s London Office.Īfter a couple of months I was called into my manager’s office (a scary event – I thought I was going to be fired) after lunch on a Monday and “asked” if I would go to Edinburgh and perform a “purchase investigation” for one of our clients. In the summer of 1964 I was “told” by the provincial firm of Chartered Accountants (CPAs) that I worked for in Brighton that I should “seek” employment in the City with Deloitte Plender Griffiths & Co (aka DPG or Dolittle Plunder and Grabit). This is another chemobrain recollection induced this time by listening on my Zune to the musical Cats.
If you have any comments or complaints about this blog please address them to me, Tony Phillips ( The responsibility for everything herein is mine. I have, alas, grown old but definitely have not grown up. I am blessed with four great kids with whom I have had great adventures. My torso reveals my other love - food and chocolate. Webmaster) have compiled a history of the railroads that operated along the Mendocino Coast - you can find it at. I am the Mendocino Coast Model Railroad & Historical Society's historian and with enormous help from my friend Roger Thornburn (the blog's I am an avid reader of arcane books, have an eclectic collection of nearly 10,000 pieces of music and am a train nut - I love real ones and all types of model ones. Wife Sarah and I moved to a rural part of Fort Bragg, California in 2000 to enjoy our retirement. My name is Tony Phillips, born on Robbie Burns Day in 1943 in Brighton, England.
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