Short and sweet. I was about 3 or 4 standing with my parents and grandparents on the Rhyd yr onnen platform of the Tal-y-Llyn. Looking towards Tywyn I saw Duncan! Fiberglass face covered in Smuts, red paint dull with oil and muck, working about as hard as those little locos can, barking away it gave a blast on the whistle as the train got to the end of the platform. That's it from then on I had coal dust in my blood and the smell of hot oil in my nostrils. Steam got it hooks in me then and there. It took almost 30 years more for me to fall for a beautiful class 52 on the seven valleys diesel gala a few years ago, the sound of those maybachs through the tunnel at flat chat almost brought me to tears. But that's a different story
