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I can date it to the day: although I'd been mildly interested in trains before, I was never a train spotter like my older brother, and I found it boring. I was mostly into Biggles and first-world-war biplanes. But on Saturday, August 5th 1961, we went to Liverpool in my Uncle Jack's red Vauxhall Cresta, and got on a boat near the Pier Head, that took us to the Isle of Man. One trip, from Douglas to Colby where we were staying, on those wooden carriages behind that Indian red Beyer with its brass dome and I was hooked.
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