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Last Stage Coach Into Amberley
Readers
of Westerns will be familiar with the stock opening. Take, as an
example, “The Last Stagecoach into Abilene”.
The Stagecoach rolls into Abilene, late. It comes to a halt
outside the Silken Garter saloon. The first of the
arriving travellers to step down is a young attractive lady, wearing
fancy eastern clothes and a haughty expression. Next
is a tall stranger. He tips the brim of his Stetson to the lady
as she strides off across the street to the hotel while he makes his
way into the saloon. The man riding shotgun, a grizzled
old-timer, clambers down from the top of the stage and tells the
waiting crowd, who can hardly take their eyes off the rear of the
departing fancy eastern clothes, that the coach is late ‘cos o’ them
pesky injuns who’d come a whoopin’ outa the hills the other side of
Rattlesnake Pass.
Some of the spirit of the Old West remains in place today in West Sussex.
The Stagecoach rolls into Amberley, late. It comes to a
halt outside the station yard. The only arriving traveller
to step down is me.
Nobody is riding shotgun on the Stagecoach Bus, the special Sunday’s
only service between Burgess Hill and Pulborough by way of Amberley,
running under contract to West Sussex County Council, to explain why
it’s late.
I know why because I witnessed it all an hour ago when the driver of a
Range Rover misjudged the pattern of the continuous line of parked
vehicles in Bramber. The resulting confusion, when he
ended up facing the Amberley Stage head-on with cars piling up behind
in both directions, took a time to sort out. The driver of
the Amberley Stage lacked the eloquence of a grizzled old-timer when he
voiced an opinion of the Range Rover driver. Through the
reverse image from the oversize mirror in the driver’s cab I was able
to lip-read every syllable of his forthright, colourful delivery and no
mention of pesky was made.
It’s the last day of September and there are two reasons why I’m at the
Amberley Museum today. It’s Autumn Crafts and Skills Day,
billed as ‘A chance for accompanied children to try their hand at a
range of craft activities’. First job is to get the
Radio Station set up with the sign ‘Try your hand at Morse, send your
name in Morse Code and receive a certificate’ prominently
displayed. There are already a few visitors
circulating. At one end of the building housing the
Wireless exhibits the sombre tones of Neville Chamberlain are issuing a
sixty- eight year old declaration of war from a radio set of that
period. In lighter vein, from another part of the
building, Flotsam and Jetsam, a popular vocal duo of that same period,
are singing about little Miss Bouncer who loves an announcer down at
the BBC.
I unlock a couple of cabinets, throw three or four switches and the
Radio Station is ready for action. There are two HF rigs
available for operation, a Trio 530 and a Kenwood 570. The
530 has a history. Formerly owned by G5RV, Louis had bequeathed it to
the RAIBC. Johnny, G3MJK, the chairman of that club decided
that because of its pedigree the rig ought to be preserved and
accordingly donated it to the Museum, where it is fired up from time to
time to keep it in trim. It’s still capable of delivering
100 watts but lacks the filtering on receive found on the 570 which is
a big plus in view of the locally generated static.
With the 570 running I check 80 metres to find a signal strong enough
to surmount the S9 plus of noise and get an entry in the log from a /P
in South Wales who is at a kite flying rally and has an enormous length
of wire up. Now the serious business of the day
begins. Usually the Morse key attracts a few inquisitive
fingers but as this is billed as a hands-on event everyone seems to be
up for it today. With the aid of a chart of the Morse
alphabet and brief instructions on the keying of a dot and a dash from
me it is no time before eager hands are clutching prized
certificates. There are also questions to be
answered. When, where and why did Morse
originate? Is it still in use today? Have you
ever heard an SOS message? All good stuff but it’s not all
about Morse.
Stopping by for a chat are people who have just come across the very
same Wireless Set/TV that their dad brought home years ago when they
were still at school. Old soldiers have just seen a 19 set
and a 22 set and reminisce of times when they operated them at
Catterick or was it Calcutta? The passage of time has
distanced their minds from the exact location but wherever it was its
good for a yarn. Then of course inevitably there are the
Radio Amateurs. –
A fortnight earlier, then in company with Tony XQM, it seemed more than
co-incidence that so many Isle of Wight Amateurs were present. It
was the day of the Museums annual mid September Bus Show and it
transpired that with a bus coming over on the ferry from the island for
the Show, the members of the famous Brickfields ARS were making it an
opportunity for a day out. They deserved it, with the work
they put in, running all those special events stations. The
Needles Lighthouse and the Marconi sites come to mind, so it was great
to meet up with a very interesting bunch. There was
the chap telling us of the bits of the original Marconi mast base that
are still being turned up when the field at the site is ploughed.
Another was the collector of old 405 line TVs, so many that
they are housed in a 3,000 sq. ft. shed.
Then there was the Intermediate License
Holder who worked ZL with 50 watts and an inverted V on 80 mtrs.
Makes you wonder.
Back to today and I’m still putting the children through their paces,
or is it the other way around? Most of the names are short,
Josh, Emma, Max, so the certificates are issuing thick and
fast. I complain of the need for a rest and then there
steps forward a young lady who is going to help me out because she
tells me she has a really long name. I’m occupied tidying
up the shack whilst she sends. “So you’re Madeleine?” I ask
her. She smiles and nods her head. Her mother
comments that it was clever because I wasn’t even watching but mum is
wrong, what was really clever was that this little ten year old has
laid her hand on a key for the first time and sent her name at a fair
clip, faultlessly. Just before closing for the day another
high spot occurs. By a combination of arm-twisting and
leg-pulling an entire family, three children, mum, dad and grandma are
talked into taking their Morse tests and as they meander off, still
chuckling, past the mock-up of the bomber wireless cabin, each is
grasping a certificate.
Signing out and making my way along the path to the station yard I
reflect on the last few enjoyable hours but what is to come and the
second reason for my visit today is not so pleasant.
The contract for the Sunday bus service is expiring today, probably
because of a tightening of the purse strings by West Sussex County
Council. So cos o’ them mean ornery critters at
Chichester I’m about to climb onto “The Last Stagecoach into
Amberley”.
Ron Glover G0WGP
1293
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