It was one of those pleasant Sundays nothing much was happening and I was laying on a grassy bank beside Winderby Lock enjoying the sunshine. Joe was further up the canal fishing, Sprag was even further up also fishing and Judy was sitting on a blanket near me sewing a tapestry. If all this continued it would be a near perfect day, but of course it did not. I lay on the soft grass with my hat over my face to stop the sun shining in my eyes and started as anyone would to think of steam engines.

I thought I had fallen asleep because the sound of the steam train in my mind was so vivid it was almost real. There was another whistle, this was slightly odd because the whistle was out of step with my dream, my train was not whistling. Suddenly the driver of the train leaned out of his cab and called to me

" Ahoy there." he shouted. " You there on the bank."

Suddenly everything went dazzling white.

" The man's calling you." said Judy who had just lifted the hat off my eyes thus nearly blinding me as the full glare of the sun hit me.

As I sat up my vision slowly returned, I then thought the sun had burned my brains or that perhaps I was still asleep, for all I could see was a steam engine, it tooted its whistle at me.

" Here grab hold of this." shouted a man standing next to the steam engine, he threw a long piece of rope, still half dazed I grabbed the rope.

" Tie it round that bollard." shouted the man.

I did what I was told and as the rope tightened around the bollard it pulled me off my feet and I fell into the long grass. I realised that I was not dreaming, it hurt. I stood up and looked again at the canal, confronting me was a steam barge, I had never seen real one before only old brown photographs in books.

I asked the man standing on the boat if it was a real steam barge. With a rather pained expression he ask me what I thought I was looking at. I explained that I thought it might be just a tourist boat done up to look like and old steam barge and perhaps there was a big diesel engine under the cabin or something.

The man in the boat said he could understand why I should think that, but amazingly this boat was completely original, except for the crank shaft and the main fly wheel. Apparently these parts were a bad casting and must have broken almost as soon as the boat was started up for the first time over seventy odd years ago. The boat was found a year ago at the back of an old repair yard it seems it survived was because it was still awaiting repair.

" It had to wait a long time then." I said.

" You're telling me." said the man.

" Where are you going." I asked.

" Flockingham on the Slew ." he said

This was where I had heard they were trying to set up a steam museum around an old canal water pumping station. The man on the boat was surprised I knew about the museum as it was all still unofficial and the only people who had heard about it were steam enthusiasts. I told him he was looking at one. The man on the boat introduced himself as George Muffet and then pointing to a man holding a large lock gate winding handle introduced Bill Watson, and putting his arm around a small lad who was covered in coal dust introduced Sam Simmion. They were going up to Flockingham to see the old pumping engine being started for the first time since its renovation. He ask if I wanted to come along, he did not have to ask twice especially on that barge.

" You are not thinking of just leaving me here on my own are you." shouted Judy from the grass bank behind me.

" You can't come between a man and his steam engine." shouted Bill turning to Judy and giving her a big smile as he wound the sluice open on the lock.

" I have already learnt that one." said Judy.

" You'll have to come along as well then." said the George from the boat.

" Is it going to be a fun day." said Judy.

" If you like steam engines it is." said the George.

Judy slowly placed her sewing in the basket and folded up the blanket, she then joined me beside the barge.

" I take it this is supposed to be something special." said Judy.

" This." I said. " Is the apple strudel of steam barges, the creme de la creme, the plumb in the pudding."

" A simple yes would have done." said Judy.

I helped Judy get on board as it came to a halt in the lock ready to descend to the lower water level. She went to sit in the bows on a small bench while I pottered down to the business end to help George tinker with the steam boiler.

The barge chugged steadily out of the lock and along the canal doing a leisurely four miles an hour. The steam engine was giving a lovely, pssss shuggg, psssss shugg, slegung noise, complimenting rather than distracting from the sounds of the countryside around us. Or should I say it was in the minds of at least four out of the five people on the barge.

Having watched George and Bill stoke and grease the engine for about fifteen minutes I went to join Judy sitting on the bench at the font end. It was much quieter up there away from the engine, I sat down beside Judy and watched the countryside gently slip past.

" Thought you would be doing your sewing." I said to Judy.

" It's too nice a day to sit staring at that." said Judy. " I was just enjoying the gentle breeze and watching the fields as we float along. Quite nice really isn't it."

We sat watching while the cows and sheep we passed looked at us. Judy said she thought I would be fiddling with the engine the whole way. I told her there a limit on how many times even I can watch a piston go backwards and forwards. You mean they would not let you play with it commented Judy. I told Judy that sometimes I did not know why I went out with her, that was cruel, true but cruel. She put her head on my shoulder and told me she would buy me my very own steam engine one day. I put my arm round her and we sat closer.

" I'll hold you to that." I said.

As we chugged out of the final lock we could see the outline of the pumping station with its tall church like windows, red brick walls and tall stone columns. It looked like some strange roman temple, it was I suppose a victorian temple to the great god steam. The designers of the building must have thought something like that for them to build such an ornate structure for what was at the end of the day just a canal pumping engine. As we slowly chugged closer to the building the immense size of it became apparent. It was five stories high with a large twisting chimney reaching as high again. Around the pump house was a collection of outbuildings and workshops, these were dwarfed however by the pump house itself.

We got off the barge Judy and I wondered up towards the main area of old buildings where the new museum was going be. The were people all over the place all in boiler suits and all carrying parts, drilling or banging large bits of machinery. It was like the second dawn of the age of steam, I have never seen so many steam engines in so many various stages of repair and renovation. It was not the number of people that struck me so much as the fact that the people filing, welding, fitting and thumping with large hammers all seemed to know what they were doing. I felt rather out of place not only because I did not know that much about steam engines but mainly because I had not got a boiler suit on.

Half way up the yard there was a lovely smell of cooking coming from a low building, Judy perked up, she could hear the sound of voices and they were not talking about steam engines. This must have been the wives and girlfriends refuge away from boilers and the smell grease and welding, Judy went off to investigate.

I headed towards the pump house and was about half way towards it when a rather shaggy black and white dog came bounding up towards me. It sat down about two feet in front of me and dropped a stick on the ground near my feet.

" You've got the wrong person." I said to the dog.

" Where's your owner." The dog just looked at me his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. I bent down and patted it on the head.

" Where's your master." I said in louder voice, as if that would make the deference to his understanding. The dog picked up the stick in his mouth then dropped it closer to my shoes and looked up at me again as if to say, are you stupid I only want you to throw the stick. I took the hint and threw the stick, not very hard, the dog leapt up almost before the stick had left my hand and caught it in mid air.

" Oh we are a cleaver doggy." I said picking the stick up again.

This time I out smarted him by throwing the stick in the opposite direction with a bit more force. As the dog ran off to collect the stick I hurried off to the pump house.

It was a pretty quick dog, before I had gone more than six paces I tripped over a stick. Just behind the stick was the dog again. I looked round towards the place I had thrown the stick just to make sure this was not the dogs twin brother, it was not. I picked up the stick and threw it further this time, I think my arm would have come out of its socket if I had thrown it any harder. I got nine paces this time but I was running, the dog dropped the stick in front of my toes.

" Why me." I said to the dog. " Do I look like an olympic stick thrower or something."

I picked the stick up and looked at it, it was not a very aerodynamic stick, it was the sort of stick that no matter how hard you threw it, it was no going to go very far. Not far enough to get away from this dog anyway, to do that I would need to throw it about seven miles. I decided I would have to out wit it, after all it was only a dog.

" Fetch." I said swinging the stick, the dog leaped backward a couple of paces ready to leap into action, its eyes were fixed on the stick. I pretended to make a hard throw but did not let go of the stick, instead, as the dog raced off in the direction I had pretended to throw the stick, I turned in the opposite direction had hurled the stick the best I could towards the canal. I then ran as fast as I my legs could carry me towards the pumping house. I suppose I should not have tried to run so fast, I did not really look where I was going so tripped over something and went sprawling on the ground. As I sat up and dusted my self down I looked to see at what it was I had tripped over, it was a black and white shaggy dog with a stick in it mouth. It was the same dog.

" That's impossible." I said. " No dog can be that fast." It dropped the stick on my feet.

" There's four of you isn't there, while one nips round to get the stick, another comes out of the barn." I said to the dog. I picked up the stick and got up. I was just about to throw it, the dog was alert watching me expectantly.

" Just a minute." I said. " I'm playing right into your paws this is exactly what you want me to do."

I lowered the stick and put it back on the ground. I then walked in a half circle around the dog and continued towards the pump house. I think it took four tenths of a second for the dog to pick up the stick, run between my legs and sit in front of me, one paw in the air and looking as of this was the last favour I could do for a dying dog. I took the stick, I was not going to be defeated, I put the stick in my pocket walked round the dog again and carried on. There was a thump behind me, against my better judgement I looked back, the dog was laying on his side stretched out on the ground, legs straight out eyes closed. Now of all the things I had thought the dog would have done, bark at me, run round in circles, jump up at my pocket, falling on the ground was not one of them. I went back and bent over it.

" Hello." I said. " Are you alright." The dog did not move. I patted it, it did not so much as twitch. Great bats teeth I thought it has died.

" Fetch stick." I said. Taking the stick out of my pocket and waving it above the dog. Somehow it went from the dead dog position to the all fours ready for action position in one single movement. That dog must have had a mantlepiece full of oscars for acting. I know when I'm defeated, I threw the stick. No sooner had the dog reached the stick when somebody whistled from the other end of the yard, the dog looked for a second, then raced off with the stick in his mouth toward them. As the dog disappeared I almost missed him.

I came to the front of the pumping house itself, it had seen better days, much of the brickwork was crumbling and frost damaged, the windows had not been cleaned or repaired since the middle of the last century and the woodwork was all water damaged. George and Bill from the barge appeared so I followed them through the large open doors into the building. Inside the bright light of day gave way to a heavy gloom lit only by what light came through the main door and the odd hole in the windows. As my eyes slowly accustomed themselves the dim light I could see that the whole place was filled with beams, rods, chains and wheels, all forming part of and engine that I was told was unique and very early pumping engine.

The engine was built to lift water from the river in a george fifty feet below us, up to the canal lagoon just behind the building. With every stroke of its piston it could lift seventy five gallons of water and it had been doing this continuously for eighty five years. Progress had eventually caught up with the old pump and the job was now done by two small electric pumps in a wooden shed on the opposite side of the canal. The redundant steam engine was to have been demolished and the doors to the old pump house were locked while the new pumps were on trial. By some administrative slip the doors were never opened again until the local steam society broke in out of curiosity. The water company had given permission to break in because they had lost the key, they also thought the pump had been sold for scrap many years ago, they even had a recept. Luckily for the local steam society someone had paid ten shillings and six pence for the engine as scrap and not collected it.

I stood with George looking at the massive engine. There were in blue overalls at various parts of the engine fiddling with various bits and adjusting things with giant spanners. The boiler as it was being stoked up, there was a deep throated roar that filled the whole void inside the pumping house as the fire was fanned through the boiler tubes. The main beam, a huge timber thing about fifty feet long above our heads dominated the space in the building. Some men were moving the beam slowly up and down with a large chain and pulley they were checking that all the bearings were free and well oiled before the main piston was allowed into use.

" Well what do you think." said George.

" It's big." I said in one of those earth shattering statements that makes historians reach for their pens.

" I was hoping for something slightly more descriptive from you, something that we could put in the publicity leaflets." said George. " After all you're the one with the words aren't you."

" How about, it's very big." I said.

George took me down a flight of steps into the boiler pit where three men were twiddling with the controls of the boiler and stoking the fire. It was very hot down there, the firebox door was suddenly opened and I was hit by a blast of raw heat. A few more shovels of coal were thrown deep into the back of fire. With all the heat and dust I really did feel out of place and began to regret breezily putting on my yellow and black boating blazer this morning.

" Its building up." said one of the men tapping a pressure gauge near his head.

" How long before you start the pump." I asked.

" Not long." He said." We'll put some steam at low pressure in the cylinder to check the joints before the full pressure builds up."

George nodded and tapped a few dials, then much to my relief we climbed out of the boiler pit.

I wanted to be one of the first to see this old grand engine takeing its first breath for over fifty years, so I went over to a position by the main door where I could see the whole pump. As I was walking back I noticed a small old man I had not seen before, he was standing just inside the door half hidden in the shadows. I might not have taken much notice of him but if I had thought I looked out of place then this chap looked as if he was in the wrong story altogether. He was wearing brown brogue shoes, beige tweed plus fours, red braces, a white shirt, a black tie and if that was not enough to get him noticed on top of it all he was wearing a brown bowler hat. For a moment I thought that perhaps he was a ghost but as I approached he spoke to me.

" Not seen you here before young man." he said.

" I've not been before I came up with George on the canal today." I said.

" Steam buff then." said the old man.

" Sort of." I said. " More of an enthusiastic supporter rather than a hands on and fix it man."

" Well we're not short of fix it men here." he said.

" What's your interest." I said. " You don't look like you're one of the fix it men either."

" I've had enough fixing it on these machines in my time." said the old man.

Conversation paused while the huge engine gave another deep low sigh and beam overhead creaked and chains rattled. Nothing moved however, it was obviously just a test.

The old man pointed with his finger at a chap next to the big gauge in the pit saying that he was his eldest son. I had seen pictures of this chap in the paper he was the one behind rescuing this place. I ask how he had got involved with this engine. It appeared the old mans father had actually worked the engine in the old days and would sometimes take him down to see it working.

"I was just a lad then. " said the old man, there was a pause as the old man smiled to himself. " That was a long time ago now."

Further conversation between us was halted by the shrill sound of steam venting out from the top of a massive brass safety valve on top of the boiler. This safety valve was one of the main features of the whole engine sitting as it did right on top of the large black boiler. The whole thing had been polished to a mirror finish and it gleamed even in the dim light of the engine house.

" Pressures up." said the old man.

At the shrill sound of the venting steam, the area around the entrance door to pump house began to fill up with people, everyone wanted to see this huge engine give its first stroke. The venting stopped and gave way to a deep throated roar. There was a high pitched squeal of metal scraping against metal.

" They cylinders dry." said the old man. " It'll be alright after its got some steam in it with a couple of strokes."

With a creaking of timber and rattling of chains the engine began its first stroke. Slowly it reached the bottom of its stroke and paused. A low rumble followed with a vibration that shuck the whole building, everyone held their breath as the cylinder started the back stroke and the beam shuddered then very slowly began to swing in the opposite direction. The beam

moved slowly upward, halfway through the stroke it slowed down, then slowly it began to move again, this time there was the sound of gushing water as the engine emptied its pump cylinder into the lagoon behind the pumping house. As the beam reached the top of its stroke and the sound of gushing water stopped and there was a enormous cheer from everyone in the building.

I stood and watched as the large beam descended again to began a regular beat swinging up and down with the swoosh of water at the end of every stroke. It took about half a minute for the pump to make each stroke with a large bellow of steam at the beginning of each stroke. People who had come to watch the initial starting of the pump began to drift away now that the first excitement was over, eventually there was only the old man and me standing against the open door of the shed.

" Well what do you think." I said.

" I think the whole thing should have been pulled down years ago." said the old man.

" You can't say that." I said with astonishment. " At least not here you'll be mobbed."

" I've spent my life working steam engines." said the old man. " They're dirty, smelly, noisy things and fill the air with thick dirty smoke, there is nothing nice about them at all."

" But this is a museum." I said. " A place to preserve them for future generations to see."

" Baa." said the old man.

Just then Judy appeared at the open door carrying a large tray. She came over to where me and the old man were standing. She knew we would not be able to tear our selves away from our lovely engine so thought she would bring us some refreshment here, Judy pushed the large tray towards me, it had on it several mugs of tea and a large selection of home made cakes. She really knew how to hit a guy where it hurts how was I supposed to make a choice between those cakes they all looked so gorgeous. I selected one Judy told me She knew I would take that one she had cut it especially for me, it was the largest peace on the tray. I said I did not want to appear greedy and take two, as she offered some to the old man she commented that at least I liked something as much as steam engines. I told her I liked her as much as I like steam engines, she did not know whether to take that as a compliment or not.

The old man smiled at Judy as he took a mug of tea and a peace of cake.

" He's got a lot to learn yet." he said.

Judy turned towards the other men near the engine and ask if our friends would want a cup of tea. The old man thought they would so Judy started walking over to were the men who had been working on the engine were now standing in a group near the boiler pit.

What happened next must have only taken about four or five minutes at the most, but at the time it seemed to be forever.

The pump continued its rhythmic pumping, the large beam nodding up and down in time with its own chorus of whooshing gushing and rattling. I had started to eat my piece of cake when the old man suddenly looked up in a startled manner.

" Something's wrong." he said.

I looked at him somewhat surprised as nothing seemed to have happened. I was going to ask him what he meant but could not as I had a mouthful of cake. Suddenly there was an extremely loud crack, not so much a crack, more like a cannon shot. The noise echoed round the building, it had made me jumped about three feet in the air and started choking on my cake.

" What was that." I said half coughing and spitting out cake.

" Bloody shafts gone." shouted the old man pointing with his mug at the central pivot of the main beam.

I looked in the direction he was pointing. The main beam over the top of the engine seemed to have twisted and was now at a funny angle, the main pin through its centre had broken and the shaft had dropped at one side. A screeching sound filled the air as the master cylinder pushed against the line of the twisted beam, the beam was still moving. The pumping end of the beam was now moving in an ark towards the outer wall of the pump house, in its twisted ark it swung sideways and jammed under an iron bracket forming part of the overhead walkway. The screeching sound suddenly stopped plunging the whole place into an eerie silence. No one moved, everyone was stunned by what had happened and simply stood looking up at the twisted beam.

Slowly, gradually the sound of escaping steam began to fill the air, people started shouting, there was a gigantic crack.

" Crikey the beams splitting." shouted the old man.

A series of splintering sounds followed as the beam began splitting, a sharp peace of timber spun up and across the centre of the building. The beam seemed to be twisting in two directions, the pressure from the main cylinder still under pressure was pulling the far end of the beam downward. There was one last gigantic crack and the top end of the beam started to swing away from wall where it had been jammed against the walkway, it began to fall toward the centre of pump house floor. A plate was still fixed to both halves of the beam causing it to swing in a large ark across the building, it would fall right onto the spot where Judy was now standing.

" Judy." I shouted.

Judy could not hear me, she did not know what was happening and had not seen the beam falling, I threw my mug of tea and cake to the floor and made a dash for Judy. I snatched her round the waist, the tray and tea went flying as I half jumped, half rolled, half fell with her in my arms into the boiler pit. As we dropped over the side of the pit the beam crashed down on the floor only inches from our heads. We landed on top of someone in the pit, as we all hit the floor of the pit the whole place filled a with thick choking dust.

There was a kind of silence as rubble and bits of glass fell on top of un through the dust. As the dust started to settle there was allot of coughing, I looked at Judy she was very limp in my arms. I gently turned her over and pushed her hair away from her face, she took a sharp breath then coughed. Thank goodness I thought for a moment Judy had stopped breathing.

" What happened." Judy groaned.

" The main beam broke." I said.

" How did I get down here." said Judy.

" I grabbed you and jumped just before the beam dropped." I said

" Any injuries." I said.

" I don't think so." said Judy. " Just winded, although I do feel a bit dizzy."

" Are you alright to sit up." I ask Judy.

" I'll be alright if you two get off me." a voice said below us. I looked over my shoulder, me and Judy were still sprawled across Bill.

I lifted Judy and helped her sit by the side wall of the boiler pit. I then shuffled over and off Bill. I ask Bill if he was alright as it looked as if he had broken our fall when we jumped down. Bill sat up saying the thought he was fine just bruised a bit.

Judy said she could not remember what happened she just heard a loud crack then found she was in this pit. Bill told her that she was is very lucky I had seen the beam falling, that I saved her life as the beam fell right where she was standing. He said How I had done quite a neat rugby tackle and hurled both of us down into the pit here just as the beam came down.

" Ooooh arrrrh." Bill tried to stand up.

" What's up." I said.

" Think my ankles twisted." said Bill.

" Don't move till I get help." I said standing up.

" Help will come don't you fret." said Bill.

There was a shout from the other end of the pit it was tom." Before you do anything else you'd better get down here and do something about the boiler."

" Bugger your precious boiler." I shouted back." I've got to get you out of here."

" Its not the boiler I'm worried about." said Tom.

I squinted through the settling dust to the other end of the pit. Bats teeth I thought as I saw Tom at the other end of the pit, he was pinned down by a large steel bar that had broken from the beam. I went over to see if I could move the it. He told me to leave him as half the guys working here were from the local mine rescue team and they would soon get everyone out. It was the boiler Tom was worried about, the fire door has been torn off and the fire was out of control, there is no steam venting, if something is not done it would blow up. I ask him what I should I do. Tom pointed to a leaver and told me to try pushing that for a start. I grabbed the leaver and pushed as hard as I could, slowly the leaver moved, I pushed it as far as it would go. Tom ask me what the pressure was but the glass was smashed on the gauge and the needle was not moving, it was stuck in the red.

" Great." said Tom.

Bill told me we must try venting through the cylinder and pointed to another leaver so I went over and grabbed hold of it with both hands. As I grabbed the lever I hear a voice was calling from above me I looked up it was the old man saying that what I was doing was no good, he said the beam had crushed the pipes. The old man leaning across part of the broken beam which was now blocking the boiler from the rest of the building. The beam did not look very safe half balanced on its side. The old man was holding something out towards me telling me to take it and give the safety valve a bang as it must be jammed. I grabbed hold of what appeared to be a long stick he told me to use both hands. I held on to it with both hands but still I almost fell backwards as he let go of his end. It was a five foot long sledge hammer. The old man pointed to the top of the boiler where there was a big brass bell valve.

I climbed up some stepping irons on the boiler pit wall, these lead to a steel maintenance platform that was bolted onto the side of the boiler. The heat was tremendous I could feel it radiating through my trousers and what was once my nice jacket, I was already sweating like a pig. This close to the boiler I could hear the water inside boiling and the plates whining as steam tried to escape from even the smallest crack.

I could see from where I was standing that the long brass leaver arm attached to the safety valve had been bent almost to right angles by a large chunk of falling brickwork.

I picked up the sledge hammer and gave the valve arm a small bang with the hammer. This had the effect of rattling every bone in my body but did not make any impression valve arm. I took a bigger swing and brought the hammer hard down on the bent metal, this time I almost fell off the platform with the impact. The metal arm was solid, I was not going to straighten it or even loosen it on my own.

Sweat began pouring down my back and legs as the heat from the boiler grew and seemed to radiate right through me. I could see a trickle of steam escaping from under the bell hood at the top of the pressure valve, I had seen smaller versions of this on traction engines, it was just a big spring holding a plate adjusted by the leaver arm. If I could loosen the bell the spring might free its self from the bent leaver arm, these things were designed to fail safe. To reach the top of the bell with the hammer however I would have to climb higher up the boiler, the only place that I could stand on was a pair of pipes attached to the side of the boiler near my waist. The pipes were very hot, too hot to touch, I took off my jacket and threw it over the pipes so I could grab hold of them to climb up. I stood on my jacket, I was high up on the boiler, I glanced down and saw that some rescuers workers were in the boiler pit trying to get Judy, Bill and Tom out, others were looking up at me.

I could hear the water boiling even more from here. I lifted the hammer, swung it around over my head and brought it hard down on bell of the safety valve. I loud ring filled the air, I let the end of the hammer rattle down the side of the boiler as I steadied my self again. The valve stayed shut. I lifted the hammer for another go. Suddenly the was an enormous bang like a cannon going off. The glass in the window over the main door shattered. There was a loud screeching. Just to my left just where I had been standing a jet of hissing steam was shooting out of the side of the boiler, a rivet had blown out. I suddenly realised that this was very very serious. I could not get back down to the platform to escape and the boiler beneath me was starting to split apart.

Suddenly standing there with sweat running down me and in great danger of the boiler blowing up beneath me, I was quite serenely calm. All the noises, the shouting and the pressure seemed to disappear, all I could hear was the voice of Simon Jones. I could see him in my mind, we were talking in the field behind his cottage. He was sitting on top of his traction engine, I was on the ground watching him, he was hammering a brass safety valve into its mounting on the engine. I joked that it was rather a crude way to fix things on such a grand engine. It was his reply that made me recall this incident now, in this moment of danger I was day dreaming but day dreaming an important message.

" Its the last line of defence." Simon Jones words came as clear as if he were standing beside me. " If all else fails and with a bit of luck, it will blow out before the boiler blows up."

I picked up the sledge hammer and swung it twice round over my head letting it pick up speed and weight. There was crack as yet another rivet shot out of the boiler, I heard it as it whizzed past my head, I was consternating too hard to notice much about that however. With all the power I should muster I brought the sledge hammer down, not on the safety valve but on its mounting flange attached to the boiler. There was a tremendous bang as the hammer struck, the shock of the impact rattled up the handle and ripped the hammer from my hands. There was an explosion and a tremendous whoosh like an express train rushing past, the safety valve shot skyward like a rocket, pushed up by a tremendous jet of super heated steam. The valve and the leaver arm crashed its way upward straight through the roof of the pumping house, a few moments later it crashed down again on another part of the roof smashing a large section of slates, it then slithered down and fell into the canal pond at the back of the building.

The explosive force caused by the sudden release of the steam had thrown me backward about six feet and I landed on my back on the floor of the pumping house. Luckily none of the escaping steam had touched me. The whole building was now filling up with steam despite the gaping hole in the roof.

As I lay on the ground it struck me as a bit funny that nothing hurt, I took this to indicate that I must have broken every bone in my body by brain could not decide where to scream ouch for first.

It took the rescue team a good hour to get everybody out, some were trapped and some were injured, if the boiler had blown however there would have been allot of casualties. As it happened there were just sprains and bruises. After a thorough examination by a doctor it seemed that I was not injured at all, this amazed everyone including me as I must have fallen a good seven feet from the boiler.

I was a bit of a hero and had to tell my story of recalling Simon Jones words while on top of the boiler at least six times, while I was plied with tea and cakes while recovering in the sunshine outside the small canteen.

It was going to be another of those pleasant Sundays when nothing much happening. I was sitting on the grassy bank overlooking Winderby Lock, Judy was sitting on a blanket near me sewing her tapestry. I ideally threw pebbles into the water and watched them as the plop made circles on the surface of the water.

" Do you mind." said Joe. " You're frightening the fish." Joe was fishing about ten yards away.

It was going to be a nice day, I took a small book I had borrowed from Joe out of my pocket and started to read.

" Can I ask you something." said Judy.

" What." I said.

" Will you promise me something." said Judy.

" What." I ask again.

" That you will completely, totally, absolutely, utterly, positively, never, never, ever, mention a single word, a single syllable, about steam engines, steam trains, steam barges or in fact anything to do with steam again for as long as we both shall live." said Judy.

" I do." I said. " If not for longer than that, my knees still tremble when I hear a train whistle blow."

I opened my book, it had not been a very good choice. Steamboat Willy.

" Just one thing." I said.

" What." said Judy.

" Don't ask what book I'm reading."