There are those who carefully plan their model railway buying, to fit not only their budget but also their layout requirements. A particular railway company, a certain era, the correct livery etc., are all specified with some care, to ensure a consistent appearance and to minimise the risk of rivet-counters pointing out annoying errors.

 

Good luck to them, I say, slightly enviously. I have never reached such dizzying heights of modelling accuracy, preferring to go down the alternative route characterised by such bold statements as ‘but it looks OK from here’, ‘it was a shedmaster’s special’ or in stressful moments, ‘it’s my layout, so there’. This approach has the advantage of catering for the type of purchase, which although fully justified by retrospective risk assessment, may not quite fit with one’s overall acquisition strategy. An impulse purchase perhaps, or as I prefer to call it, accidental modelling.

 

This approach has much to commend it, as it allows a freedom of stock growth that more rigorous methods do not permit. The resultant collection may often be described (admiringly I always think) as ‘eclectic’, ‘unconventional’, or even in extreme cases ‘avant-garde’. The process becomes spontaneous and refreshing, liberated from current norms and restraints, and creating a unique one-of-kind stock list. The fact that few others would want such an assembly is not in the least relevant.

 

As an example, consider my current set of railcars, until recently hovering around the half-dozen in quantity terms, mostly suitable for the tight curves of portable 16mm layouts. Another one, particularly of the longer-wheelbase type, was not planned for. However, the appearance on Facebook of a newly-introduced railcar by Timpdon Models, was instantly recognised as an opportunity to create a new plan. Timpdon have a long history of excellence in garden railway products, initially in electronic controllers and latterly in both ready-made and kit-built coaches and wagons.

 

The important thing to do in such situations is not to over-think. The essential questions are no more than three: ‘does it look nice?’ and ‘will it run on my tracks?’ are the two essentials, with ‘can I afford it?’ tacked on more as a defensive measure against any subsequent and potentially hostile questioning from one’s nearest and dearest. Two out of three is, almost invariably, a more than comfortable majority, although a straight flush of all three boxes with emphatic ticks in them is a much more satisfying result. In this case the railcar did indeed look nice, in both red-and-white and green-and-white, and with both bogies articulated it should cope with my balloon loops. Question three was dealt with summarily by choosing the cheapest option, the manual-control build-it-yourself version.

 

A mere two days after placing the order a package arrived, with lots of well-cut wooden parts, real glass for the windows and proper instructions, complete with well-drawn diagrams. And, would you believe it, the parcel also contained a parcel van kit, in a matching style! How had that happened? Another accident, that’s how, precipitated by a back-story which suddenly came to me whilst cursor was being applied to ‘Buy’ button. The railcar company, name unknown but probably Irish, had just been awarded the Amazon delivery contract for Ballylenon and District. A mere cardboard-box-throw from Ballykissangel, if you were wondering. Prompt acquisition of suitable package transport was essential, as that nice Mr Bezos likes things delivered fast, if not quicker.

 

It is outside the scope of this article to detail the construction of the models, suffice it to say they went together without much trouble, and were decorated with some added 3D-printed bling, including a full complement of passengers, driver and conductor. Kit design has certainly come on in recent years; in this case there were no less than four laser-cut layers to each vertical elevation. Careful study of the instructions was required to ensure everything went where it should, and had the right sides painted in the right colour before assembly. I opted for blue-and-sand, just to be different, with varnished maple interior woodwork and teak seats. Again that nice Mr B ensured I was not kept waiting for suitable painting materials.

 

The end result more than justified the means of acquisition, although I think a sound card would be useful to drown out the rather tinny noise made by the metal gearing. Maybe one with a record-your-own option would be good, particularly as a certain 2ft gauge railway just up the road from me has at least twenty petrol and diesel prototypes to choose from. Another happy accident perhaps?

 

 

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