On Sunday mornings the telegraph office closed at 4am and did not reopen until Monday morning. Fortunately, the 12.05am Cardiff to Liverpool stopped at Whitchurch from 3.48am to 3.51am, so I locked the telegraph office as soon as I saw the headlamps and heard the train approaching, hurriedly collected the tickets off odd passengers detraining and jumped aboard the train, arriving at Crewe at 4.10am.

On occasions, due to engineering operations on the Crewe to Chester line resulting in diversions via Tattenhall Jct. and Whitchurch, there would be a light engine at Whitchurch which left for Crewe about 4am So I cadged a lift on the footplate, the driver stopping at Gresty Lane for me to get off. That was the end of a week of nights at Whitchurch.

Those were just a few thoughts on the night shift. The day turn provided as much interest. This was the railway, and the life at a small station before the Beeching cuts, before high technology and computers were heard of, and when railwaymen ran and worked the railway. A more interesting job could not have been found anywhere.

Now, Whitchurch is an unstaffed halt…