{"id":1322,"date":"2022-12-13T12:16:36","date_gmt":"2022-12-13T12:16:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/?p=1322"},"modified":"2022-12-16T15:57:47","modified_gmt":"2022-12-16T15:57:47","slug":"the-first-aid-phantom-of-wayoh-sidings","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/the-first-aid-phantom-of-wayoh-sidings","title":{"rendered":"The First Aid Phantom of Wayoh Sidings"},"content":{"rendered":"
Christmas Ghost Story: <\/strong>The First Aid Phantom of Wayoh Sidings<\/strong><\/h5>\n

My grandchildren are always meithering me for a \u2018ghost story\u2019 this time of year. Well here\u2019s one about a benevolent<\/em> ghost, or boggart, which featured in something that happened to me a long time ago when I was a young relief signalman in Bolton.<\/p>\n

It was December 1966, not long after I\u2019d been promoted from my first signalbox at Bullfield West to a \u2018relief\u2019 job, with more money. It involved covering rest days, holidays and sickness at several boxes in the Bolton area, mostly within a mile or so of the station. A couple were more remote; the furthest and most difficult one to reach was Wayoh Sidings, up on the moors between Bolton and Blackburn. The \"\"only way you could reach it was by walking up the line from Entwistle, just over a mile. There was no road access and the other relief men didn’t like it – they couldn\u2019t get there by car. I was young and fit back then and would either walk or even cycle up the path along the line, keeping an eye out for passing trains. If it was wet, most drivers – if you asked them nicely – would drop you off outside the box.<\/p>\n

Wayoh Sidings was at the summit of the line, the end of a long gruelling climb in both directions. It was a lonely place, with the nearest houses half a mile away near the old quarry on the Roman Road. Beyond the box, going north, the line plunged through a deep cutting and then into the two-mile long Whittlestone Tunnel. In steam days most of the freights would be \u2018banked\u2019 by a loco coming up behind the train, from either Bolton or Blackburn. When the train reached Wayoh Sidings the assisting engine would shut off steam and come to a stop by the signalbox, with the signalman changing the points to allow it to \"\"drift back to base. If there was nothing else about, the driver and fireman would park their engine outside and come up for a brew.<\/p>\n

That was about the only company you\u2019d get, apart from the occasional platelayer. Harold Hodgkiss was the regular man who walked his length every week and would call in to \u2018camp\u2019 over a brew of tea.<\/p>\n

I was rostered to cover the night turn at Wayoh in the week before Christmas, relieving the regular signalman, Frank Hatton, at 10.00pm. Once you\u2019d got there it was an easy job, just an empty stock for Newton Heath depot about midnight, the Colne \u2018papers\u2019 at 4 a.m. and the Heysham \u2013 Brindle Heath goods round about six, which was usually banked up from Blackburn.\u00a0 My relief would take over at 6 and I\u2019d \u2018caution\u2019 the first up passenger and get a lift back down to Bolton. You could get away with that sort of thing, back then. After signing the Train Register Book it was a case of putting the kettle on and settling down to a good read, maybe with a brief doze before being disturbed by a \u2018call attention\u2019 signal for the Colne papers \u2013 express passenger, followed by four beats of the bell.<\/p>\n

Some of the other relief signalmen didn\u2019t like the place, claiming it was haunted. Jimmy Blackburn said he’d heard a voice calling to him when he was walking up the track from Entwistle, something like ‘get out of the way’ and ‘look out’. \u00a0 As a signed-up Marxist revolutionary, I regarded that as a load of superstitious nonsense.<\/p>\n

………………………………….<\/p>\n

I\u2019d already done a couple of nights that week before \u2018the incident\u2019 happened. It was Thursday December 23rd<\/sup> and it would be the last full night shift before Christmas. Frank, on the afternoon turn, would close the box at 10.00pm Christmas Eve and re-open on the 27th<\/sup>.<\/p>\n

The last train from Bolton that stopped at Entwistle was the 8.30 to Colne. I could\u2019ve asked the driver to drop me off at Wayoh but thought I\u2019d call in at Entwistle box and have a brew with Paddy Hanlon, one of the two regular signalmen there. The box was perched above the two \u2018fast lines\u2019. Back then there were four tracks between \"\"Entwistle and Wayoh, provided by the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway to give extra capacity for freight trains. By the 60s there wasn\u2019t much freight, apart from the evening Burnley \u2013 Moston on the up line and the Ancoats \u2013 Carlisle on the down.<\/p>\n

Paddy always welcomed a bit of company and the kettle was usually on the boil. I got off the diesel train and waved a cheerio to the Manchester guard, watching the train trundle away up the last bit of the climb towards Wayoh, the red tail light slowly disappearing from view on what was a fine, clear but bloody freezing night. You could see your breath almost freeze when you breathed out.<\/p>\n

I jumped down off the platform and crossed the tracks to get to the signalbox steps. \u201cNow then Paddy!\u201d I shouted, so he wouldn\u2019t think it was any unwanted visitor, such as an over-zealous inspector making an out of hours call.<\/p>\n

I walked up the flight of stairs and found the door unlocked. The warmth from the stove hit you like a blanket as soon as you stepped in.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome in and sit yourself down lad,\u201d said Paddy. \u201cThe kettle\u2019s just boiled, here\u2019s a nice cup of tea for ye.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"
Entwistle signalbox behind engine<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Like all the boxes in the area, there was an \u2018easy chair\u2019 that was the preserve of the resident signalman. There was usually another chair for visitors, not as comfortable but good enough. Decorum usually meant that the visitor would make do with the hard chair but Paddy was a true gent and offered me the easy chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks Paddy, that\u2019s very kind. And here\u2019s a card for you and the family.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paddy lived in one of the old railway cottages just beyond the pub, he and his family had been there for a good thirty years after moving from a box in the Manchester area, Collyhurst I think. He hailed from the west of Ireland and had no end of stories about life in \u2018the ould country\u2019. He loved the Lancashire moors and was the only applicant for the vacancy at Entwistle when the previous incumbent, Abraham Holroyd, retired.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo Paul, are you and your young lady all ready for Christmas?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I think so. We\u2019re going over to Sheila\u2019s mother\u2019s for Christmas Day but we\u2019ll have a quiet time, see the rest of the family on Boxing Day, get out for a walk and take it easy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, it\u2019s a time for family alright,\u201d Paddy agreed. \u201cThey say it might be a white \u2018un too, some snow forecast for tonight according to the news.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s looking clear enough now,\u201d I replied, not wanting to get snowed in at Wayoh Sidings for Christmas. \u201cBut anyway, I\u2019d better be getting on, Frank will be wondering where I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, he\u2019s a stickler for punctuality is Frank, and no harm in that, for a signalman,\u201d responded Paddy. \u201cBe careful how you go and mind you don\u2019t come across any of those Lancashire boggarts on the way!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s any chance of that, Paddy, but if I do I\u2019ve a spare copy of The Morning Star<\/em> I can give them, to demonstrate they\u2019re just an illusion!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn your way lad, and have a grand Christmas\u2026just look out for the Burnley-Moston, not had it yet so it might be on its way.\u201d<\/p>\n

I left the cosiness of Paddy\u2019s box and walked down the steps into the old goods yard and felt the first flurries of snow coming down. The clear bright sky had clouded over and there was an eerie light across the tracks.<\/p>\n

If I walked briskly I\u2019d be there in twenty minutes. The unfenced path ran alongside the up fast line and had been used by generations of railwaymen, and \u2013 unofficially \u2013 some of the local farmers and quarrymen too.<\/p>\n

It started coming down heavily and within a couple of minutes I could hardly see the tracks, let alone the path. To make it worse, I was \"\"walking into the wind, howling down from Whittlestone Head and blowing the snow horizontally. I was struggling to see and the snow felt more like small balls of ice.<\/p>\n

I was able to walk forward only by feeling the edge of the ballast to my left, under the rails of the up fast line.<\/p>\n

I kept edging forward, stumbling a couple of times, and could just make out the lights of Wayoh Sidings box in the distance, through the blizzard.<\/p>\n

Maybe I was getting over-confident; I was getting close when I went over. I hit a bit of redundant rail some dozy platelayer had left lying across the path. All I can recall is falling and striking my head against something hard. Then oblivion.<\/p>\n

The next thing I can remember is a loud voice, shouting \u201ccome on lad, come on, tha\u2019 cornt lie theer\u2026look out!\u201d<\/p>\n

I came back into consciousness and felt a hand tugging at my feet. I became aware of the sound of a steam loco hard at work, and not far away.<\/p>\n

It dawned on me that I was lying across the outer rail of the up fast, and the sound I could hear was the late-running Burnley \u2013 Moston goods, just passing Wayoh Sidings and a few yards from where I was lying. It was working hard, with the driver probably trying to make up a bit of lost time and get home to Manchester. Up here, he was a long way from Deansgate.<\/p>\n

I felt another hard tug at my leg and the next instant the \u2018whoosh\u2019 of a heavy steam locomotive rushing by, at very close quarters. I could feel the leaking steam from the engine and the smell of hot oil. Then the clank of wagon after wagon as the train went past, followedby silence. I could also feel a small dog pulling at my trouser leg.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you awreet lad?\u201d a voice asked. \u201cTha\u2019s just had a close call wi\u2019 destiny!\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked up and through the snow, still coming down heavy. I could make out the shape of a large, bearded man in platelayer\u2019s clothes.<\/p>\n

\u201cTha must ha fallen onto th\u2019 rail and knocked thisel\u00a0 eawt. Lucky aw were tekkin\u2019 th\u2019dog for a walk an\u2019 saw thi. Let\u2019s have a look at thi.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had a nasty bump on my head where I\u2019d hit the rail and also felt as though I\u2019d twisted my ankle when I went over.<\/p>\n

\u201cCon tha walk?\u201d my rescuer asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not sure I can\u2026but I have to relieve my mate in the box at 10.00.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, he can wait a few minutes. Howd on to me an\u2019 we\u2019ll get you into my cabin just up th\u2019line.\u201d<\/p>\n

We edged forward through the blizzard, both of us completely white, the snow biting into our faces like small sharp nails.<\/p>\n

My rescuer pushed open the door of what looked like a platelayer\u2019s cabin just set back from the track, I’d never seen it before. We entered a warm but dark room lit only by a blazing fire and an oil lamp on the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cSit thiself on this chair,\u201d he said. Let\u2019s tek a look at thi. Wheer\u2019s it hurtin\u2019?<\/p>\n

I explained about the bump to my head and what I thought was the sprained ankle from when I\u2019d fallen.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s tek a look. Tha\u2019s had a bit of bump awreet but it doesn\u2019t look too bad. A sma\u2019 cut but nowt much. We\u2019ll soon fix that. Let\u2019s have a look at that foot.\u201d<\/p>\n

He got on his knees in front of me and took hold of my injured left foot.<\/p>\n

\u201cNowt to worry abeawt, but this meyt hurt for a minute lad.\u201d<\/p>\n

He got hold of my foot and gave it a good wrench. He was right, it was bloody painful.<\/p>\n

\u201cOw! Bloody hell, what\u2019re you doin\u2019?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t fratch, it\u2019ll be awreet, tha\u2019ll see. Now let\u2019s get that head wound dressed.\u201d<\/p>\n

A bandage appeared from what looked like a battered old first aid box and he cut a couple of pieces, laying them on the table. He dabbed some sort of lotion on the bruise, had an odd smell that I can\u2019t describe but quite pungent, then wrapped the bandage around my head, securing it with a knot.<\/p>\n

\u201cTha\u2019s had a nasty bang on th’yed, but tha\u2019ll live. Aw\u2019ve dabbed a bit o\u2019comfrey on that bruise, it\u2019ll heal it gradely weel in a day or two. Grew it in mi own garden. Let\u2019s get thi up to th\u2019box, tha should be fit for duty neaw.\u201d<\/p>\n

We went out into the cold night air to find the blizzard had stopped. The clouds had rolled away leaving a clear, starry night with the path up to the box illuminated by a full moon. About six inches of snow had fallen.<\/p>\n

We walked in silence up towards the box, the lights getting closer and stronger as we trudged through the undisturbed snow. I held on to my rescuer and hopped along on one foot, not putting pressure on the injured one. The little dog ran by his side.<\/p>\n

\"\"We got to the steps leading up to the box and I turned to wish my rescuer a hearty thanks, with an invitation to come up for a brew. I hadn\u2019t even had chance to ask his name.<\/p>\n

\u201cAw\u2019ll tek me leave neaw, th\u2019wife\u2019s expectin\u2019 me back. Aw think tha\u2019ll find that yon foot is healed and just give that bruise on thi yead a couple o\u2019days.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned round and there was no sign of him.<\/p>\n

But what was most strange was that there were no footprints leading away from the signalbox. Maybe the wind had blown some drifts across the path.<\/p>\n

Before I had time to think any further, the signalbox door opened and Frank shouted down to me. \u201cAre you alright Paul? Paddy had told me you were on your way and then that friggin\u2019 blizzard came on. Worried you\u2019d got caught out by that freight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell I\u2019ve had a strange experience, that\u2019s for sure. Is that kettle on?\u201d<\/p>\n

I entered the signalbox; inside it was pretty much the same as Entwistle, a standard L&Y design. The fire was blazing away merrily.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s happened to thi lad? What\u2019s the bandage for?\u201d Frank asked.<\/p>\n

I explained to him that I\u2019d tripped on some lineside junk and fallen onto the track, knocking myself out. Someone had pulled me away just in time before the freight passed. Whoever it was, he\u2019d saved my life. And on top of that he\u2019d dressed my wound and my foot was no longer in pain. I realised I could walk on it as normal.<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like tha\u2019s seen a boggart!\u201d said Frank, a man well versed in Lancashire folklore and daft tales.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomebody helped me, that\u2019s for sure. I owe my life to him, but I\u2019ve not a clue who the bloody hell he was \u2013 and he just disappeared. A bit of blowing snow probably covered up his footprints but I\u2019ve no idea where he went. He said he was out taking his dog for a walk.\u201d<\/p>\n

I described his appearance, as much as I could, to my colleague. Tall and thick set, beard. Wearing what looked like old-fashioned working clothes, railway greatcoat, smelling of tobacco. Spoke broad Lancashire.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid he look like that chap, on the photograph over the frame?\u201d Frank pointed to an old black and white photograph amongst a group of pictures of the line and the box, taken in the early 1900s by the look of them. Sure enough, one of the men in a group of platelayers was a spitting image, as much as I could see, of my rescuer. Even his clothes looked the same, with the cap and heavy overcoat. And there was the little dog by his side.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Bill Horrocks, he was foreman platelayer when there was still a small gang up here. Before the First World War. Bill was prominent in the railway first aid movement \u2013 chairman of the Bolton branch. He used to go round giving lectures on railway safety and first aid, won lots of prizes so they say. Swore by herbs, his house was full of all sorts of different lotions and potions. It\u2019s ironic that he was killed in a railway accident, trying to rescue a workmate who\u2019d fallen onto the rails, just down the line from here. He got his injured mate out of the way but didn\u2019t have time to get out of the road himself. His little dog tried to pull him out of the way, so they say, but he was too heavy. Killed outright. They laid out his body in the old platelayer\u2019s cabin just down the line \u2013 it\u2019s derelict now, roof\u2019s gone, but you can still see it from the line, if you look carefully. Anyway lad, I\u2019ve arranged with the driver of the Newton Heath empties to give me a lift home and he\u2019s just passed Spring Vale, so I\u2019d better get down to meet him. Merry Christmas, and have an easy shift. Don\u2019t see any more ghosts!\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank picked up his bag and disappeared down the steps. I saw the train\u2019s lights as it emerged from Whittlestone Tunnel, slowing down to pick him up. A friendly toot on the horn and the train disappeared into the distance. I replaced my signals to danger and settled down to a quiet night, under the protective gaze of Bill Horrocks.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Christmas Ghost Story: The First Aid Phantom of Wayoh Sidings My grandchildren are always meithering me for a \u2018ghost story\u2019 this time of year. Well here\u2019s one about a benevolent ghost, or boggart, which featured in something that happened to me a long time ago when I was a young relief signalman in Bolton. It […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1322","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1322","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1322"}],"version-history":[{"count":18,"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1322\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1373,"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1322\/revisions\/1373"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1322"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1322"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lancashireloominary.co.uk\/index.html\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1322"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}