This is an article written by Peter Ratcliffe who died earlier this year.

CANADIAN-STYLE WOODEN GRAIN STORAGE SILOS

AT ASHES FARM, CRESSING, ESSEX

 Peter M Ratcliffe MCMI

The quick change-over from the threshing machine to the combine harvester and eventually the self-propelled range of machines that rapidly grew in size and the abandonment of sacking grain led to immediate requirements on the farm of ways of storing bulk grain eg wheat, barley, beans, peas and oats.  These were the major crops on the farms of East Anglia in the 1950’s.  It was decided to erect silos at Ashes Farm in 1966 as a nearby farmer had come across an easy-build idea.

It was apparent on research that bulk grain storage was prominent in the grain belts of America and these had been established for many years but the UK were slow to take up the idea other than at port mills and grain terminals as they were, since the transport of grain by the steamship in the late 1840’s.  In the UK in those original times the word ‘silo’ for bulk storage was not in the vocabulary.  Bulk grain, or loose grain, was certainly kept at the ports and mills in a range of wooden hoppers in large sheds.   Some wooden hoppers were almost as large as the hold of a small ship.  Obviously bins and hoppers required workers to ‘shovel out’ and sweep and in all respects were in a way labour-intensive but as this was intermittent in itself a staff of temporary workers was not practical.  Immediately, labour-saving was required and the bottoms of these hoppers were over conveyors or chutes and this eventually led to the bottom of the hopper being, itself, tapered to facilitate self-discharge and less manpower was needed.

In a ‘chicken and egg situation’ whilst principally trying to illustrate grain storage, one can be reminded all around the various materials which were ‘bulked’ eg coal and anthracite appeared in giant heaps rather like the Pyramids and slowly it was realised that these heaps being exposed to the weather eventually heated up or decayed and the whole scheme was greatly wasteful.  Gradually it was observed that vertical storage towers with a roof were evolving.  In particular, the railways were early to use these, standing astride the railway track as a quick form of ‘loco-coaling’.  Up until the First World War the coaling of ships was carried out in the long ordered fashion of men humping sacks and tipping the coal down chutes.  Grain being in effect a ‘living’ seed and it was quickly realised its moisture content led to relative humidity problems in store, so it was essential the silos, stores or hoppers were so designed when they were developed and constructed.  Some of the earlier silos at the ports and mills appeared as tall concrete towers.  The first erected caused enormous problems to the contents where it rapidly moulded, heated, became rancid and even caught fire in some cases.

During the early days in the grain growing belt of Canada spreading from Saskatchewan and along the rail line to Ottawa there was rapid development of railhead facilities and co-operatives for taking in the farmer’s harvest, storing this and providing quick railcar access for bulk transport.  For farmers in the UK it was always the concern of weather conditions, which always led to indifferent qualities and moisture content of the harvested grain.  This, of course, had for many years retarded development of bulk storage.  Some observers recorded seeing in those days in the USA and Canada great outdoor piles of harvested grain – even with a covering of snow.  Harvest time in the USA and Canada, as it is a Continent and has a tendency for established continental weather patterns, saw the grains and in particular the famous ‘Manitoba Red’ ­­– as a hard high-protein wheat – whilst that was its individual characteristic, it was generally the fact that it was hard in fact, that being from a dry harvest and the wheat would store without generating mould and the dry winter would not affect it and extremely low temperatures of the subsequent winter would lead to ensured further drying should any rain have fallen in the interim on those famous outside heap.  Cheap supplies of timber in Canada led to farmers constructing their own barns and storage but gradually the way was pointed to the tower silo.  A period in the early 1920s saw one or two unusual – but with a wet tendency – harvests ie for the grain belt.  Who invented the wooden constructed tower silo cannot be pointed to as an individual but certainly would have emanated from a nearby sawmill.

On a visit in the late 1930s Mr Carlton Whitlock of Great Yeldham, whose firm was Whitlock Brothers, was on a holiday and study tour of the US and Canada to gather ideas for his business, he had a wood-working industry in some rare buildings which had, in fact, earlier belonged to Vickers for construction of aircraft and sea-planes* .  These buildings were eminently suitable as they were lined with high windows on both sides and were dismantled from their original site and erected at Great Yeldham and formed a long building eminently suited to the ‘conveyor belt’ form of cart and trailer making for farming.  At a large co-operative store in Saskatchewan, Mr Whitlock was treated to a complete tour and observed what was outwardly a circular concrete tower of over 60ft high and these were constructed in a semi-circular form or nest of towers.  On inspecting a number of empty towers he discovered that the circular concrete tower was just that but inside was a clever square ‘tower’ of 2” x 2” planed timber nailed one piece above another, giving internal measurements of some 6ft square.  The only major steel structure involved was a tapered hopper base in conical form with a central discharge hatch with shutter in the bottom centre.  This steel base stood on substantial vertical supports welded in position and this astride a conveyor belt and, in some cases an augur or ‘Archimedean Screw’.  The first piece of timber sitting on the square base was bolted in place and every subsequent piece was nailed to it – the position of every nail indicated inside with a pencil stroke and the carpenter/nailer standing inside on a movable plank was passed the timber (ready cut) by assistants.  It was observed that progress on the 6ft square silos could be rapid and on calculation of the settled grain pressure these required no cross-bracing.  Also noted was the nature of timber to split -= it was a requirement that at the corners each subsequent layer of wood protruded by minimally 4” and the corner position required careful nailing as four nails would pass through every third piece of wood.  The nails used were of 5” length and were placed firstly within 4” of the corner and along the length every 12” – 13” and marked, or course, so that on subsequent layers following the nails would not pass in the same place or direction.  The corners however once established required a small drill to avoid splitting – as it must be remembered four large nails were to be accommodated within 2” on every corner on the overlapping pieces.  Where the square measure of a silo or bin increased to 8ft or 10ft square, at every 12 layers of timber a diagonal corner brace of the same timber was inserted by cutting a mitred piece on opposite sides using the same corner.  This timbe4 was nailed through its centre into the straight piece below and four of these were on the same course.  Once the first corner braces were inserted planks were placed so the carpenter/nailer or his assistant could stand and as the work rose the planks were lifted on to the next set of braces and so on to complete.  What in fact occurred with these wooden silos was some small shrinkage of the wood, which allowed air to pass, in turn preventing any condensation and allowing the grain to ‘breathe’.  It was found that silos to these dimensions were reliable and were obviously constructed to fit close within the towers which were erected by various means, some by rings of fitted concrete circles one above the other, some by liquid concrete poured within formers and others by the well known concrete stave method which were squares of reinforced concrete panels, themselves bolted one to the other and rising.  These particular towers were not successful as they required external bracing to prevent continual movement and to resist windage.  Final types emerged in reinforced concrete – poured structures with their wooden inside silos, the corner pieces about touching the concrete.  Therefore the whole when loaded became a rigid and self-supporting integral structure, it being concluded that the wooden internal silo/bin being erected concomitantly with the pouring of the outside tower and wooden internal structure served as a working platform above which the ‘formers’ could be placed and detached when the concrete had set.  The next several layers of wood being in place the ‘former’ could be reinstated for the next level and so on.

On return from a further trip to Canada post-war and noting the adoption n of the modern combine harvester in the UK, Mr Whitlock discussed with some local go-ahead farmers how they might build their own grain bins.  At the time there were no custom-made methods of bulk grain storage available or any kits of parts.  Some farmers had poured heaps of loose grain in old barns and in some cases the concomitant pressure on the walls had caused collapse.  The assumption was that the loose train was all right and would look after itself – but they discovered it was in fact a moulding, steaming heap.  With Mr. Whitlock’s guidance and of course supply of very good two by two PSE – translated ‘2” planed square edge’.  It being observed by him a fair lorry load (on lorries of the day) would be required for a couple of his ‘Whitlock Bins’ and with 5cwt of 5” nails this constituted a reasonable order and Mr Whitlock was in business!  It must be noted at the same time that just over the border at Sudbury, Suffolk Wheeler’s the timber merchants were also enjoying a lively trade in this particular timber for silo making – it being the case that there were no patents involved.  Owing to the nature of existing farm buildings of the day where none of them could be described as ‘high’ the need to make larger area silos or bins was the immediate requirement and to place these on ‘legs’ with a tapered discharge base hopper would prove costly beyond comprehension.  In the beginning most of the bins built were on the ‘flat’ of the barn floor.  The internal sizes averaging 8’ x 12’.  The early structures with the wooden corner bracing tended to bulge with the odd failure and subsequently such bins showing these tendencies had to be emptied and steel rods inserted cross-wise and length-wise with large square plates and nuts on the outside.  Once this was accomplished the standard form of Whitlock Bin emerged, was safe to use and many operated unaltered for over 20 years with individual capacities from 40 to 50 tonnes average.  Due to variable harvests it became fashionable to install a continuous grain dryer and dried grain only was stored and proved largely safe in the wooden bins.  These bins were widely used during the late 1950s – later by the mid 1960s they became outclassed, with farmers favouring ready-made equipment with self-erect nut and bolt schemes.

As time passed the pressed-steel panelled bin was developed and, as always is the case, the new ideas were more expensive and the cost per tonne stored rose.  Then another problem emerged, the steel bin precluded ventilation and even led to serious condensation inside and further problems cursed the farmer, leading again to expensive sophistications such as special ventilated floors, air circulation tubes and all manner of sensors and sampling devices to warn of impending problems.  Looking back, the first farmers who installed their wooden bins to Mr Whitlock’s recommendations enjoyed very largely trouble-free storage and many of the farmers said “after six months my grain came out smelling sweet as a nut”.

This writing is not an attempt at a treatise on grain storage or the design of bins as it is ongoing particularly in the US and other great grain producers.  But of interest what is popularly described by some of the ‘antis’ the much alluded to ‘grain mountains’ particularly in America where large intervention stocks are held and correctly described as ‘strategic reserves’.  This grain is diverted in massive heaps deep underground in former sulphur mines and it is free from insect and vermin attack.

In the main wheat barn at Ashes Farm there remain extant some of Carlton Whitlock’s expounded ideas which had held successfully the grain harvests for many years.  At some points that grain was stored the year round quite safely to enjoy market benefits and not taken out and sold until almost the start of the next harvest, to be available to a market that was short-supplied and therefore a satisfactory return to the farmer was made.  It is not the place of these writings to discuss the merits of long term grain storage, coupled with economics but often there are points in time involving interest rates and international currencies when those economics stood up for the writer.

Modern day agriculture is dictated by the global situation and concomitant supply and demand.  Individual farmers storing their own harvests are declining and large central grain stores are emerging with modern handling and conditioning facilities.  At this time there are serious difficulties facing these large depots and it is not possible to predict what the future will hold.  Notably, those involved in the brewing industry the bigger malsters have attached to their facilities some massive storage arrangements for the grain – mostly barley – of up to 100,000 tonnes.  In Carlton Whitlock’s time, his customers’ silos would have stored an average of 400-500 tonnes.  It tends to be the case that farm storage is now of a temporary nature and the farmer uses large single-span buildings with the grain in a large ‘heap’.

 It is noted the pendulum has swung and 40 years after the establishment of Mr Whitlock’s ideas many farms have now demolished their silos/bins, even the steel fashionable ones, and once again the grain appears a ‘heap’ on the floor.  At a guess economics will dictate the immediate future.  Populat9on growth, politics and climate will determine the ultimate situation.  What is clear to some but not to many is that in a world of plenty where we see wheat even used as ‘packing’ material – where in biblical times it was almost sacrosanct with the loaf of bread – so much now is wasted or lost before it is harvested – even what is harvested circles the globe before in becomes an edible product.  The farmer is regarded as almost a ‘necessary evil’ and is fast becoming obsolete.  Until a situation is realised that somewhere, sometime the inevitable ‘catastrophe’ happens – the meteorite, the volcano, the tsunami (overwhelming tidal wave), climatic variations, the ‘el Nino’ effect, etc – and looking back at one point often referred to as “535AD and all that” (Alexandria disappeared under the sea and the second eruption at Pompeii, Stromboli and Etna) as well as eruptions in New Zealand and Philippines (which saw something – almost a global blackout – which did not clear for over 20 years).  Under these conditions producing food from plants and livestock, as we know them, would be impossible.  We know globally that edible fish stocks are rapidly being depleted and there has to be a return to land-based foods and animal by-products coupled with plant food supplies – and to mitigate the thought of such a future, genetic modification could be used to ensure plants survive in difficult conditions.

 The future is wondrous – but terrifying.

Recently I moved my accommodation and  while I was looking through some old papers I came across a copy of a Road Roller Association Journal "Rolling" dated 1978 which had been sent to me by Derek Rayner and an item in it attracted my attention. It was, "we have been informed that Derek Rayner, our well known committee member from Yorkshire, has received promotion in his profession which entails him moving to Norwich. We wish him and his family well in this new venture and hope members in Norfolk will make Derek very welcome."   I first met Derek in 1988 the year that I joined the Road Roller Association and the East Anglian Traction Engine Society, and the  item in "Rolling" reminded me to ask him if he could supply an article for the web, preferably about his steam experiences in East Anglia. I received "Reflections on an East Anglian Sojourn" which will  be posted on the web in three parts. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Reflections on an East Anglian sojourn  -  Part 1    -  In which Derek Rayner tells something of the time he spent with his steam roller in the Norwich area some thirty years ago.

During my 35 years working for British Railways, I spent some considerable time in the early 1970s on the High Speed Train Commissioning team and was on the train between York and Darlington when it broke the UK speed record in 1973, surpassing the steam record of 1938 set by that famous ‘Blue Duck’ Mallard – as it is known in some circles. The HST prototype reached a speed of 143mph! After this three year secondment, during which learned not only a lot about railway engineering but also about people, I went back to my previous job involving the maintenance and repairs of the Eastern Region’s diesel multiple unit fleet. This had already introduced me to personnel at both Cambridge Diesel Depot and also at Norwich and with my long journeys from York to these places, I became well acquainted with both the people and places involved.

It was in the late 1970s when it became evident to me that if I stayed in my then position at York, I would not progress my career. It appeared to me that the expertise I had gathered during my relatively long involvement with the HST project was not being recognised in the teams being created to manage the introduction of the newly-built high speed trains that were due for introduction on the East Coast Main Line from London King’s Cross to Edinburgh and beyond. I therefore began to apply for jobs elsewhere on the Eastern Region and was eventually successful in obtaining a post as Assistant Carriage & Wagon Engineer at Grosvenor House in Norwich.

The office, located above the Kentucky Fried Chicken on Prince of Wales Road, was relatively close to Norwich Thorpe Station. Responsibilities were such that I was to work for the Divisional Maintenance Engineer’s Carriage & Wagon Engineer and this included visits to depots at March, Cambridge, Norwich, Yarmouth and Ipswich. During my stint at York’s Chief Mechanical & Electrical Engineer’s HQ office, I had obviously met many of the people involved and so the transition to a new life and working colleagues in Norwich and its surrounding area for me was relatively easy.

Not so with my family – I had three youngish children at the time - and I lodged in Norwich through the week and returned home to south Leeds at weekends. Dorothy spent some time with me on a weekend or two in Norwich whilst we house-hunted. We looked in the vicinity of places with stations and within our price range and eventually found a property in Salhouse, on the Broads and with a relatively easy train ride for me to take me into work.

At that time, I’d owned my Aveling & Porter steam roller WHITE ROSE for some 15 years and the thought of parting with her, or leaving her behind in Yorkshire, was not something I could contemplate.   So, she had to come too – eventually. In some respects, this was a blessing since a tall chimney adjacent to the shed in which she was housed at that time was not in the best of repair and recent bad weather was making it just a little unsafe – and the owners were making noises about terminating our lease on the building. It was a superb place to be just then for it was about five miles from home and was a former stationary engine house in a brickworks yard, used then merely for brick storage. There were two of us with rollers in the shed – with its white tiled walls and a huge pit in the centre where the engine flywheel once was - indeed a splendid and somewhat appropriate place to garage our rollers and all the other impedimenta – such as living van and trailers – that one tends to accumulate over the years of being involved in this preservation hobby of ours.

One of the problems at that time was that the Aveling needed a new smokebox and so that necessitated several visits to Leeds after we had moved home to Salhouse in the January snows of 1978 in order to sort things out. I was well looked after by Yorkshire friends during that period which, at times, required me to sleep in the living van in the shed on Saturday nights before returning to Norwich on the Sunday evening.

A knock on the house door at Salhouse early one evening soon after our arrival surprised me somewhat for it was the chairman of the local traction engine club who had read of our move in the NTEC’s magazine, Steaming and who had come to welcome me to Norfolk. I thought that was a nice, kind and friendly gesture and I subsequently attended rallies with the roller at Strumpshaw, Tunstead (Trosh) and on one occasion, the roller was low-loaded down to Henham – foreign country to me, a dyed-in-the-wool northerner from Yorkshire!

The1915 Aveling & Porter roller White Rose was taken to Salhouse School on one occasion in the early 1980s following a request from two of his children who were pupils there. Rev'd Martin Benians, the vicar of Salhouse and a railway enthusiast, was on the roller's footplate, having been invited there by Derek and he was keenly inspecting the workings of the engine at the time the photo was taken - on a day of somewhat changeable weather. It had just been raining!

Later on in that first year, I was presented with the opportunity to visit Weeting rally in mid-July. Being the third weekend in the month, this always clashes with Masham Rally, the big event in the Yorkshire Dales to the north of Ripon to which I’d traditionally driven for some years, the 40 miles there and 40 miles back with the steam roller. Being on the doorstep now, so to speak and with Dorothy working on that particular Saturday, the three children and I decided to go to the rally at Weeting by train and walk up the hill from Brandon station.  We unfortunately just struck it unlucky for during our walk, the heavens opened and down the rain came to such an extent that on arrival on the rally site, we were drenched and some of it was actually under water. What a splendid show of engines was to be found there though, and all virtually new to me. The problem was that despite having reasonable footwear on, the three youngsters then took some persuading to go to another event – in case it rained and it turned out to be as unpleasant for them as Weeting was on that occasion – and after that it was for ever known in the family not as Weeting – but as Wetting!

Eventually, having sorted out the smokebox problem with the help of one of my good friends in Yorkshire and got the roller all back together again, two low-loaders, kindly provided by another good friend, made the long journey down to Salhouse and deposited a steam roller, living van, trailer and all the other ‘stuff’ there for me to sort out and put away. The roller was to live, well sheeted-up, up the drive adjacent to the house and under the oak trees and I built a small lean-to shed at the side of the garage to accommodate most of the ‘stuff’ whilst the living van and water trailer lived in a friendly farmer’s field for a time until other arrangements could be made for them.

Soon after the day of arrival, I decided to drive the roller up the drive to its intended spot outside the kitchen window. The driveway was made of six-foot long concrete slabs that I had hoped had been bedded in properly and would stand its weight. There were a couple of potential problems before I could do this, however. The first was that the drive was up a steep little ramp from the road, and I was unable to take a swing around off the road and drive up this ramp easily due to the narrowness of the road. There was, however, an entry into a field opposite and a suitable gateway that could be backed into in order to give me a straight run at the ramp. That got over the first difficulty. The second more major problem was the fact that the house’s septic tank was right in the middle of the driveway just at the top of the ramp off the road.  The width of the roller was such that the back roller, where most of the weight was, might just not pass over the septic tank cover on both sides and I therefore thought long and hard about how to get over this problem without landing myself – and more importantly - the roller, in the proverbial.

I therefore acquired a couple of long railway crossing timbers from work and chamfered the ends to give a reasonably good slope up which to climb at the end of the run up the slope from the road to the drive level and then to let the roller down gently at the other end and onto the concrete slab drive.   I reckoned that once the front rolls were up the ramp and the chamfer and onto the timbers, they would hold them steady and the rear rolls, with both pins in, would climb them OK.

So it came to pass and on the appointed day, I made sure that no-one else was close, just in case there was a problem and a large descending and expensive noise happened.  I steamed up and with plenty on the clock, I drove the roller from the gateway opposite, across the road, onto the ramps and up the two slopes - heart in mouth - that my cunning plan should succeed.  Just when the roller got to the top of the ramps and onto the level sleepers, the whistle blew.   What - I nearly messed my pants – talk about landing in the proverbial, it nearly came up to greet me out of the septic tank! I knew there was no-one else around – so why should there be a whistle very close by and virtually in my ear. It frightened me considerably and I swiftly came back to reality and down from the underside of the canopy to where I seemed to have jumped, to realise what had happened.

Adjacent to the right hand side of the driveway was a silver birch tree - one of several in the garden and one of its branches was overhanging the drive.   This I had not realised or even thought about during my deliberations as to how to get the roller up the drive and close to the house so it could be sheeted up and winter there nicely. As I drove forward up the ramps, this branch had caught the chimney first, then the front awning support and had flipped past and the ends had got themselves entangled in the whistle cord – hence blowing the whistle! I stopped momentarily, untangled it and proceeded slowly down off the timber ramps and onto the concrete slabs and equally slowly up the drive, still shaking from my recent ‘ghostly’ experience. I can tell you that that tree was trimmed back somewhat before the following Spring when I did the reverse run to get the roller back down the drive and onto the road again!

Reflections on an East Anglian Sojourn  -  Part 2  -In which Derek Rayner continues with some anecdotes of the time he spent with his steam roller in the Norwich area some thirty years ago.

 Having got established with my Aveling steam roller WHITE ROSE in Salhouse, my thoughts then turned to rallies. It was not too far to Strumpshaw from there – around six or seven miles, depending on the route taken - and it was therefore eminently driveable – but I’d left my trusty steersman and mate of some years behind in Yorkshire.  So, by asking around in the office, I eventually found someone who expressed an interest in helping. Peter (not his real name) accompanied me on the first occasion we went to Strumpshaw in 1980. The long straight road south from Salhouse heading for Little Plumstead had just been re-surfaced with tar and chippings and I guess we were the first heavy machine to pass along it since it had been completed. I thought no more about it at the time but around three weeks later, I was in the office car, driving two of my bosses in that direction, when I noticed that the roller marks on the road surface were still there. I happened to mention that it was my roller that had made them and they then asked who the hell had been steering since they were all over the place. I had to admit that it had been Pete, who they both knew, and he’d just been getting used to the vagaries of a steam roller’s steering arrangements since he’d never set foot on one before that day! We laughed it off at the time but poor old Pete didn’t half get some stick later on in the office when we returned!

Strumpshaw was enjoyed as a different style of event to those I’d been used to in the north – with engines parked up in a box-like paddock, rather than the long line. I met up with various engine and roller owners and was able to chat to the late Billy Bird who at that time had the Aveling roller ex-Italy (No 8766) that David Gray had repatriated from Pescara. This had worked for the Italian State Railways and had various non-English features on it, including the safety valve cover, awning supports and boiler inspector’s pressure gauge test flange. Some little time previously, I’d helped with its restoration in that I’d loaned David my Aveling works plate (No 8506) from which he’d been able to take an aluminium copy, alter the appropriate numbers and make one for his own. The roller had been very nicely restored but was in a lined variation of Aveling’s usual roller colours. I commented that I was disappointed that it did not appear in the livery of its previous owners since that would have made it visibly different to most other Avelings around – and it would have been a splendid rally talking point – since told its past history in a much better way. The railway colours were overall brown – Billy shuddered somewhat at this thought - so it was not to be and I was to some extent disappointed with that.

On the Sunday morning of the event, the kids had just had their breakfast in the living van and one was looking out of the van’s stable door whilst the others were playing just outside when one of them noticed someone walking up the field. Very few other people were around at that time in the morning and as the figure came closer, the eldest drew my attention to the chap and I watched for a moment or two, half recognising the guy’s shambling gait. I thought it can’t be, as at that distance, it looked like Dave, a well-travelled Australian engine enthusiast who had visited us a couple of times previously when we lived in Leeds. As the chap came closer I could see he was carrying a large bag and before he reached the van, I could see it really was him.  I knew he was coming to England again – but not exactly when - and so was extremely surprised to find him here on the rally field at Strumpshaw at a very early hour on a Sunday morning.

It transpired that he’d arrived on the UK only a couple of days beforehand. He knew, from an exchange of letters, that we were going to the rally at Strumpshaw, so he’d rung us at home from London on arrival, found there was no-one in and worked out that we would already be at the event or on our way there.  He’d decided to come and see us, so he could experience the delights of an English rally, so he’d caught an overnight ‘newspaper’ train late on Saturday night from Liverpool Street station, arriving at Norwich at goodness knows what time early in the morning. From station staff, he found out where the rally was and therefore where he needed to be and caught the first Sunday morning train from Norwich to Brundall – and then walked from there to the field.

We made him breakfast and the kids were delighted to see him for he always brought them something. On previous visits, he’d brought a blue bag and a record of the Puffing Billy train that operates in the Dandenong ranges, just outside Melbourne not far from where he lives. In this instance, he’d come via South Africa and he’d brought them a pack of cards with steam locos on the backs – a different one for each card and some postcards.  He also brought some other little souvenirs from his travels such as a Knorr soup cube – something which at that time was not available in England.

Talking things over with Pete when we returned home, we decided that Tunstead Trosh in September was also driveable – but there was a major obstacle in our way in that direction from Salhouse. Right in the middle of Wroxham, the shortest way to Tunstead, was Wroxham Bridge – a very steep ‘humpback’ bridge with almost a distinct peak at the summit and with metal ramps on each side.  Skidding on grates, even with both pins in, is not a pleasant experience with a steam roller and I remembered on one occasion driving north out of Leeds to our local traction engine rally at Harewood House, we going up Scott Hall Road and even with both pins in, the steersman somewhat carelessly happened to hit two manhole covers simultaneously, the driving wheels picked up and they were still going round forwards whilst the whole outfit – roller, living van and water cart - was sliding slowly backwards down the hill before it gently jack-knifed. No – Wroxham Bridge was not for us.  

I therefore looked at alternatives and decided that the other road north, via Coltishall, was a much better alternative – but how to get there.   The nearest access would have been cross country via Salhouse station – but the low road bridge under the railway there made it not an option, so we chose a slightly longer route in the direction of Spixworth and through Crostwick, part of which was along a single track road – hoping we’d not meet anything coming in the opposite direction - and we made it there, even ascending the hill (a Hill, in Norfolk???) after the river bridge at Coltishall without a problem. Although to Pete it was steep, I was not phased with it at all, coming from Yorkshire as I do.

It was on the way back, however, that problems arose. Around four or five miles from home, the injector, its usual reliable self, ceased to be so. I tried the pump – which I had always regarded as unreliable – why Aveling’s should have perpetuated such a strange and, to me, poorly engineered means of putting water into the boiler, I will never know. It didn’t work. So, we managed to struggle home on a bit of a wing and a prayer and with not a lot of water in the boiler and an injector that put more water on the road than into the boiler – but we got home.  We had to stop on the way to take on more water since I’d wasted so much of our supply with the injector problem and we eventually left the living van and trailer in their usual parking spot, negotiated the sleeper bridge with the roller (referred to in Part 1) without any untoward whistling on this occasion and up the drive before parking her up at the side of the house in her intended spot for the following winter, to be sheeted up later.

When things had cooled down, I took the injector off and investigated its interior.  It was caked-up with some sort of white powder that, initially, I had no idea from whence it had come.   Then realisation dawned. When I’d moved down from Yorkshire, where the general water quality was excellent – of such so that one could use it directly out of the tap in batteries – I’d sought advice from the BR’s Water Treatment Chemist in the office. I was aware of the huge water treatment plant at Norwich depot and I felt I needed some water treatment process for the steam roller’s boiler to keep it clean. I was advised that since Crown Point Engineer’s yard still operated a steam crane at the time, see so-and-so and ask for some of the briquettes that were used for boiler water treatment on that.

Water quantities of the Aveling’s boiler and tank – plus the size of the water tank on my four-wheeled trailer - were discussed and I was eventually advised to use one briquette for every 500 gallons of water taken on board.   This worked out fine because the trailer tank was 500 gallons – so I requisitioned a large empty margarine plastic tub from the kitchen, put some holes in it and dangled it through the tank’s top manhole and into the water. Putting one briquette in the plastic tub every time the tank was filled with water was certainly not an onerous task. This method was adopted and I believed it to be working satisfactorily until this journey home from Coltishall. The practice then ceased - for what had happened was that the dissolved solids from the water tank were being passed through the injector and the action of the steam in there was precipitating them and furring up the inside of the injector, thus reducing the internal diameters of the cones – and causing it not to function correctly. Having dismantled the injector, I boiled the cones and the body in Coca-Cola and when reassembled and later tested again, all worked well – and the dosing arrangements were discontinued. I treated it as an interesting episode of learning by one’s mistakes.   I thought I was doing the right thing – but in this instance, this was obviously not the case!

Can you help please?

Pat Freeman has found these old photographs of his father -in -law, George Ottley, with the engines. He believes that they may have been from Coopers in Sweffling, Suffolk during or just before the first world war. If you have any information please can you contact him via the  web e mail.

This picture was found in a small cottage in West Hanningfield about 30 - 35 years ago.  Were the workers German POW's?  Do you recognise anybody? Any information would be  greatly received via the web.