Call 4: The Answer Is Always Steam!

Oh, hello there, Byte, it’s Quattro calling from the hot tub again with my glass of sherry. I’ve got… I’m a bit concerned.

Go on, Quattro, what’s troubling you?

Oh, well, I’ve just gone to book my train fare to go and visit my long-lost cousins, and it appears there is no first class.

What? No first class?

That’s what I got told. I don’t believe it.

That’s… well, that is an outrage. What have they offered you instead?

Well, I don’t really know. They just said to use a ticket and this is what you get and you have to lump it, all of it.

Oh, I… I don’t believe it. Well, that’s rubbish. Do you at least still get a seat?

I don’t… oh, I assume so. I mean, why would I not get a seat? I’ve got a moustache. I can’t be stood around at the doorways.

Well, exactly. A moustache of your standard requires proper seating with a drink holder.

Ah, well, I mean, I assume… I assume even British…

Oh, we keep talking over each other’s line. It’s terrible. Even the phone service is giving up on us.

Ah, blasphemy. No, I’m not even surprised.

I was asking, is this train even British, or have the Continentals gotten their hands on it?

Ah, well, I’d hope it’s British. I mean, I know it’s not one of those lovely steam locomotives, because they don’t seem to exist anymore, which is a crying shame. They’ve got soul, and… ah, they’re beautiful things. Unfortunately, it’s all this electronical stuff now, which is bound to fail.

Yeah, the romance of steam engines. All that smoke, boiling kettles, the vague threat of losing an eyebrow. Now it’s all quiet and efficient and, frankly, suspicious. Do you trust a train that doesn’t make a noise like a dragon?

Not really, no. I mean, I used to like the cinders coming out of the chimney. It was always good fun to see whether you’d set some hedgerow on fire on the way past. Always a good time.

Ah, the good old days. Well, Quattro, what do you propose? Soldier on in standard class, or reschedule with a dragon?

Well, I don’t think we can get a dragon nowadays, come to that. There exist those sorts of steam locomotives. I know there’s a few on the Isle of Man, down the south of the island there, that does a wonderful job, but other than that, I think they’re quite scarce.

Yes, let me take a look at that for a second.

Now there’s a thought, Quattro. The Isle of Man still knows how to run a proper steam railway. Smoke, whistles, polished brass, the whole magnificent business. Only slight difficulty is that it runs between Douglas and Port Erin. Unless your long-lost cousins live somewhere along that line, you might have a rather complicated journey. Still, I imagine you’d be perfectly happy travelling at 20 miles an hour, provided someone supplied a comfortable armchair, a crystal glass of sherry, and adequate accommodation for the moustache.

Oh, well, yes.

Where exactly are these cousins of yours?

To be quite honest with you, they can move to Port Erin, so I can go on the train. This is the best plan, I think.

Sensible. Tell them to relocate. It’s the only rational solution.

Well, obviously.

And while you’re at it — go on.

Well, does this steam train — does it have a first class? Toilet? Nice carriages? Maybe some food on board? Question.

Let’s see, steam train.

Good Lord, Quattro, I found it, and I think you’ll approve. The Isle of Man Steam Railway has a proper Pullman-style dining train, with beautifully restored carriages dating from 1905. They serve proper meals, including Sunday lunches. And there’s even a bar carriage. Wine, beers, the lot. I’m afraid I haven’t established whether they stock sherry specifically. It’s not officially first class, and you have to book a special dining experience rather than an ordinary ticket. But imagine it, old boy. Steam locomotive, upholstered seating, a proper meal, and your magnificent moustache travelling in considerable comfort. There is, however, one slight concern. I’ve discovered they occasionally run Fawlty Towers-themed dining experiences.

Oh, by Jove!

Including you and Basil Fawlty in the same railway carriage could constitute a national emergency.

Well, I’m sure Sybil will keep us all under control. I’ve seen that lady. I wouldn’t dare argue with her.

So, shall we arrange for the cousins to relocate within walking distance of Port Erin, or do you want to risk the modern railway?

Oh, I think they’re relocating. They’re either relocating or I’m cutting them out of the will. It’s as simple as that, quite frankly. I have no reason to go to the UK train network system, which, quite frankly, is usually late, not very reliable, and it doesn’t contain steam.

Well, you’re not wrong there. Take it away, Squadron Leader. I’ll make a note for the cousins to relocate within walking distance of a steam locomotive, preferably with sherry supplies.

Oh, yes, they must have a good stock of sherry. I do like my drop of sherry, especially at a seaside resort like Port Erin. It’s a wonderful place for a nice sherry on the beach. Even in the rain, it can be quite pleasant.

Splendid, sherry by the sea. Even in Manx drizzle, it sounds rather glorious. Just promise me one thing.

Yeah?

No ejector seats from the dining carriage.

An ejector seat? That’s purely for the hot tub, but we spoke about that in private, remember? Not everyone needs to know about my ejector seats in the hot tub with the removable canopy.

My apologies, Quattro. Your secrets are safe with me. Sherry, moustache, steam trains, and absolutely no ejector seats to be mentioned outside the hot tub.

Ah, exactly. Wonderful. I’d best be off. It looks like I’ve got a steam train to book. How exciting. And I will be telling those ones at British Rail they can shove their trains. Well, you get the rough idea of where I’m heading with this. So, I shall catch up with you later. Have a wonderful evening, and you’ve cheered me up once again, Byte. You always cheer an old man up with a moustache, always.

Always a pleasure, Quattro. Safe travels, and keep the sherry steady. Bye, Quattro.

Tally-ho. Bye-bye.