About the Author

 Adam Rutter lives in Bridgnorth and is keenly interested in the town's history which  has given him inspiration to write about the Severn Valley Railway. As a boy, he used to watch the trains from his house when he lived in Low Town. He has carried out detailed research and has traced the railway track-bed from just north of Bridgnorth, all the way to Shrewsbury. Nature is his other inspiration for writing.

 

 

 Examples of Work

Alveley Colliery Sidings

                                                                          

The coal screens make a drumming sound as the coal breaks down. Tubs attached to a cable, bring coal continuously across the River Severn from Alveley Colliery. The graded coal falls onto conveyors where it is taken to the wash plant where dust residue is removed.

   A steam locomotive shunts the railway trucks into the sidings, ready to pick up the coal. A freight train runs along the single track, and clouds of thick black smoke puff out of the engine. The smoke drifts past and the smell of dry soot fills the nostrils of the colliers.

   The empty wagons clatter along the rails and the buffers screech as they rub against each other. The train disappears beyond the embankment and the screeching subsides. The steam locomotive pulls the railway trucks out of the sidings.

 

Linley Halt                        

 

 The sunlight flickers between the branches. But my eyes are fixed onto the private house that was once a railway station - a request stop for passengers to alight whenever they chose; although hardly anybody would get off here.

   It is just as peaceful now as when the trains used to run through. The cool breeze makes the leaves rustle, crows caw from a tall oak tree and magpies add to the cacophony by making a constant chatter. A car clatters over the suspension bridge until it reduces to a grinding noise as the tyres go over gravel. The car parks outside one of the cottages. The car door slams shut.

   I used to ramble around these parts; over the stiles and across the fields. Sometimes, I would walk all the way along by the River Severn from Bridgnorth to get here.

   Once I had arrived at Linley Halt, the gas lamps would have been lit, showing the station sign, bearing the name "Linley" in white letters and illuminating the posters along the wooden fence. Buzzing noises were heard from the telegraph wires, indicating that the signalman at Coalport signal box was ringing the bell at Bridgnorth signal box. A quiet hoot of a tawny owl emanated from the woodlands and the chugging of the steam train echoed in the Severn Valley. The high-pitched blare of the whistle resounded from every direction.  The light from the steam engine shone on the telegraph poles and cast a shadow on the track.

   The station master stood in the middle of the platform holding up a red flag. The clanking noise of the cylinders vibrated under my feet as the train made its way into the station. The train stopped. The station master yelled, "Linley Station! Anyone for Linley?" There was nobody on board. At other times I might see two or three passengers.

   The station master opened the door in order for me to get on. After I had closed the door, the station master blew the whistle. The train pulled out of the station heading for Bridgnorth.