Probably the worst break-through hayfever symptoms of the year today, and at 22:50 ish its still pretty warm. Summer, I think, is here.

Appraisal Day at work. Always interesting, sometimes feared, but generally a good chance to talk about what's gone on, what's planned and get a bit of feedback on how you fit into the world at large. This year's appraisal came at the end of what's been an inexplicably difficult week. I've certainly not been firing on all cylinders. All pretty positive however. On coming back to the office, found people canvassing for pizza orders, had a very greedy and pleasant lunch. Spent the afternoon mopping up some vacant places at our most heavily oversubscribed schools. Always an interesting task.

Fully intended to get a haircut too - but the barbers' shop was either closed or busy everytime I passed.

So, the weekend beckons. Had thought about a wander around London and some church sites, but I'm also tempted by some unusual workings connected to additional Rugby trains to Cardiff tomorrow.

I've just rebooted the server machine here after 115 days of unattended and painless uptime. I only did so today because I had a couple of updates which I needed to apply.

Most remarkable of all is that this is the machine cobbled together from the old Duron box which was originally going to be sold. The buyer disappeared, and I ended up getting a very reliable little box it seems!

I really enjoyed 'The Victorians', Wilson's last effort. It seemed to link the dominant themes of the Victorian era effortlessly - even when they seemed at odds (grinding poverty and the pursuit of culture for example). It avoided the 'lots of important men invented big things' mentality of many recent reviews of the 19th Century both in print and on television.

So, I had high hopes for this accurately titled little book. Its size certainly concerned me however. After the weight and authority of Stephen Inwood's 'History of London' and the sheer overwhelming emotional sweep of Peter Ackroyd's 'London - A Biography', one expects more pages from a history of London. From the outset however, it is clear that this is a different kind of book. Wilson's breezy dash through the accepted version of the history of London rarely digresses into the underbelly. Nods to Booth and Mayhew accept poverty as a given, and in a traditional 'history book' style the people of the city and the buildings and infrastructure are rarely related by Wilson.

By the middle of the book we are in the Second World War, and the book begins to change. From here in, Wilson becomes entagled in immigration, cultural diversity and modern architechture. He seems uncertain where he stands on any of the topics, and settles on padding out a variety of statistics on immigration, crime and transport with some pictures of buildings he deems 'silly'. In a sense Wilson is reflecting the quiet and rarely expressed ambivalence that British people feel here - wanting to accept a cosmopolitan society but terrified and misled by media representations of the 'unknown' of Islam for example. However, it seems to me that nowhere is this tension brought more to the fore than in modern London - and nowhere is it more often successfully resolved. Wilson, rather typically dwells on the incidents which have caused death and controversy, revisiting the crime scenes but drawing no conclusions. I sense that Wilson wants to say some controversial things here, but is very aware of the sort of people who read his work. He strikes a safe middle ground between Daily Mail and Daily Mirror, and besides a deep dislike for Ken Livingstone, doesn't give away any secrets.

Perhaps I expect more from a London book because I receive more from the city? In the closing chapter Wilson in fairness, does hint at the secret history of London, the dead who walk the ancient pattern of streets along with the living. Perhaps too, I'm far more prepared to accept the past as a rather closer neighbour than Wilson does, because I don't (indeed as Wilson justly points out couldn't afford to) live in modern London?

I am often accused of living in the past, which is a fair and accurate charge. This book however, by taking what seems a deliberately inconclusive position on the difficulties of a modern capital city, falls short of living in the present.

Day Two of my steamy weekend. This time, I get to ride behind the locomotive rather than getting up early to watch it arrive and depart! Got a lift to Temple Meads for Pathfinder Railtours' "Avon Branch Explorers" to Portbury Docks and Tytherington Quarry. Traction was to be 5029 Nunney Castle throughout.

Firstly, a couple of trips to Portbury Docks. Both ran reasonably to time, but due to Freightliner working at the Car Terminal, we were routed to the Coal Terminal on both occasions. Very strange to see the Avon Gorge from the 'other side'. Pill Viaduct was impressive too, towering over a small harbour, and a large but rather tired looking village. The branch line to Portishead had given in to vegetation. This line really needs to be reopened soon. After trip one, ventured a pint of Golden Jackal. The second Portbury trip was much more crowded.



So, to Tytherington on the former Thornbury branch. Outward journey hampered by signalling difficulties near Bristol Parkway. Slow running between Westerleigh Junction and Yate Middle. On to the branch. Checked for extended periods at three level crossing en route. This gave us little or no run at the long 1-in-60 (or thereabouts) climb to Tytherington Tunnel and beyond. 5029 began to slip and struggle about half way up - the driver showed great skill in keeping her moving, albeit slowly. The tunnel, wet rails, vegetation and poor adhesion finally brought 5029 to a halt, with much of the train (including our coach) still in Tytherington Tunnel! Restarting would be near impossible, with the summit still not achieved and a load of ten coaches. Assistance was sent for...

After nearly an hour, 66244 arrived among a gaggle of orange jacketed EWS and Pathfinder people. We were pushed over the summit into the quarry sidings, with gentle skill and little effort. It was decided that it would be far simpler to use 66244 to haul the train back to Bristol. Soon off, and a rather late but trouble free run back to Temple Meads.



Bright sunshine by the time we arrived. Time to take a look at both Nunney Castle and our rescuer. Announcements to "Passengers and Enthusiasts on Platform 3" to stand clear - unusually polite! Onto a comparatively dull 150254 for the trip home. Fantastic day.