Like many 16mm modellers of a certain vintage, my first live steam locomotive was a Mamod. Despite its shortcomings, it served as a good introduction to the hobby and, when superseded by a 'proper' Roundhouse Pooter, it featured for many years as a static model on my indoor layout. Eventually it was sold to a newcomer to 16mm. Not I hasten to add, because he didn't know any better but because it was a) cheap at the price and b) a good introduction to the hobby (see above). A little time has passed, and the newcomer is not only still speaking to me but has also allowed himself to be sold my Roundhouse Bertie, which was languishing a little because I was spoilt by my 'proper' radio-controlled locos.

 

All this is rather a roundabout way of saying I have a new Mamod. I blame it on the salesman on the Mamod stand at the Warley exhibition. He saw me coming from as far away as platform 3 at Birmingham International, and had lined one up right where I could not fail to see it, complete with a 'buy one get one wagon free' offer. I must confess I knew not that the firm had ventured into the De Winton world, nor even that it was making engines with 'proper' gas firing. By coincidence (or perhaps by some cunning plan of my subconscious) I had just started making up a Slaters De Winton kit. I was both impressed and a little daunted by the fine detail it contained. So much so that I may have to get new industrial-strength reading glasses just to see where all the minuscule nuts go on the tiny screws.

 

So the Mamod version was just a stop-gap to fulfil my needs while the kit gradually got built. Such was my rapidly-constructed reasoning, and the salesman could only agree, at the same time clinching the deal by small-talk of a water top-valve and a promise of 'any wagon on the stand'. And so I won, by some margin, the competition for who of our nine-strong party could spend most at Warley.

 

Back home I plonked the loco on the steam-up stand for inspection. The first thing of note was the big shiny jubilee clip which retains the gas tank - what were they thinking of? It's the sort of cheap bodge which I have been known to do, and even I know I shouldn't. Fortunately the eye is quickly distracted by the big shiny flywheel, which is crying out to be tweaked just to see it move. And when you do, everything else moves too, loco, coupling rods, gears, shafts, drive wheel, crank and piston. Very satisfying. The redness of the flywheel, and other features such as the gear drive and brass screws are reminiscent of Meccano models, perhaps harking back to when the original Mamod company built stationary engines compatible with Meccano parts.

 

On the subject of screws and rivets, there is a 'warts and all' aspect of the build, as no attempt is made to hide, or even disguise, the means of holding everything together. And did I mention a jubilee clip? The boiler is fairly simple in appearance but looks good, that is until you spot the big metal band securing it to the floor with an over-length nut and bolt. At least it's not shiny. On top of the boiler there is a conventional Mamod safety valve and a spare fitting for a water top-up valve. And talking of oversize, both the gauge glass and pressure gauge are clearly intended to be visible from the other side of the lawn by us oldies, for which I am duly grateful. No sign of a red line, which hopefully means that the boiler can take anything the burner can throw at it. The water gauge has a neat little drain valve at its base for emptying the boiler. The other prominent feature is the side-mounted vertical cylinder assembly, made of three blocks of brass bolted together. As well as the (non-waggly) cylinder this includes a slip-eccentric gear and an oil reservoir.

 

A peer underneath reveals another brass block, this one containing a ceramic gas burner. Now ceramics are a world first for me, and I was intrigued to see how the burner performed. For some reason it is mounted off-centre, as if it or the gas tube was too long to fit directly under the flue. Or perhaps some clever thermodynamic equations said this was exactly where it should be for the best heat transfer. Apparently earlier models had a plastic gas tube, but I was relieved to see this has now been upgraded to metal. And as proof of just how up-to-date my model was, the label stuck to the underside indicated a batch date of two days before purchase. Hardly time for the paint to dry.

 

The instructions were comprehensive, and I anticipate fairly easy to follow by a beginner. I resisted the temptation to jump straight in with gas canister and ignitor, and actually read them from start to finish. Thus I learned that you ignite the gas through a gap in the chassis side rather than via the inviting hole in the top of the boiler. The gas tank has a conventional fill nozzle which fitted my camping gas adapter, albeit with slightly more leakage than I am used to on other locos. Maybe it was just the cold weather. The gas control valve is a brass fitting rather smaller than is usual for your average steam loco. The steam oil goes in a hole in top of the lubricator via a brass cap. Two small plastic bottles of oil, one thick, one thin, are provided. Water is added via the safety valve opening - a small funnel is provided. Incidentally as I write a genuine new Mamod black plastic funnel is on offer on eBay for a trifling £6.50 - perhaps the colour imparts rarity value, like a Penny Black?

 

Ignition produces the usual 'whump' noise of a miniature unconfined vapour cloud explosion, followed by silence. As someone used to a healthy roar of a conventional burner this was a little unnerving. However a quick squint down the flue revealed a reassuring blue glow from the base, partly hidden by the small reheat coil in the centre of the boiler. The instructions recommend limiting the opening of the gas valve to one full turn, the wisdom of which became obvious when a bluish light appeared above the flue, like small-scale St Elmo's fire. Turning the gas back down resulted in blueness just above the burner, in amongst a warm red glow of the ceramic, which apparently is just right.

 

After about ten minutes (with hot feed water) signs of activity became apparent. Even with a closed steam valve (another slightly small and fiddly fitting) oily sludge starts to dribble out of the cylinder and its exhaust port. At about 20psi, opening the now hot, small and fiddly steam valve produced an enthusiastic response from the transmission. We were good to go. One advantage of a small lightweight loco is that it is fairly easy to carry around whilst at 'good-to-go' status, so it made it onto the track without problems. Another advantage then became apparent, namely that the a flick of the flywheel sets it off in the right direction. The loco took little persuading to set its valve gear correctly, and moved off without fuss and with no evidence of hydraulic locking. By contrast my ex-Bertie always seemed to require some persuasion to get going. And still does, as the by-now not-so-newcomer can testify.

 

As with any manually-controlled loco the steam valve setting is crucial to steady performance, and the Brunel would definitely benefit from a proper lever-style regulator. That said, on my level trackwork there wasn't a great deal of rushing about after either a runaway or a stalled loco. An occasional stop for a blow-up was required on the sharper curves, but overall it seemed quite controllable, and the performance should improve with running-in. One or twice the loco auto-reversed a little way, possibly just to show that it could. No doubt someone will figure out how to fit radio, but for my line at least it's probably not worth the trouble. The free wagon (a shiny brass tanker) added some useful ballast when filled with liquid. However Mamod have, so far, stuck with the twin-buffer arrangement on their wagons, so they don't match with the single buffer on the Brunel and their other recent locos.

 

After several successful steamings on the St Aubyn Light Railway, I decided the time was right to show it off to the Merseyside and West Lancs 16mm group, who were holding a steam-up (and hotpot) courtesy of Mike and Jennifer Lowe. However it let me down, as despite plenty of steam pressure the thing would go nowhere. Eventually those more knowledgeable than I diagnosed a slipped slip-eccentric gear. The suggested treatment plan involved exploratory surgery on a warm, dry, well-lit workshop bench, taking due care not to invalidate any warranty. Poking about with a blunt instrument around a loco balanced on the garden wall, in the chilly gloom of a winter's afternoon, was not recommended. A disappointing result, but at least I twigged what the length of brass tube loose in the box was, namely an exhaust pipe for the steam outlet, to route it to ground level rather than all over the (model) driver. And the hotpot was well worth getting cold for.

 

Back home in the warm, dry, etc. it became apparent that there was excessive longitudinal slack in the main drive shaft, allowing the eccentric gear too much sideways freedom. A loose flywheel was identified, and quickly sorted with an allen key. After a brief bench test a successful trial run was held in the back garden, under the authority of a hastily-drafted Special Running (Hours of Darkness) Ticket. The daylight hours had been spent on a trip to Doncaster, for further modest investment at Roundhouse Engineering. The current owner of my Bertie also purchased parts for fitting radio control, for finding under the Christmas tree, suitably gift-wrapped, a short while later. I wonder if Roundhouse could be persuaded to offer shares? A longer test run a week or two later at the Mossala Hill Railway, courtesy of Rob Bilsborrow, was equally successful.

 

There is a saying in the photographic world that your best camera is the one you always have with you. On the that basis the Brunel is my best loco, as I frequently feel the urge to take it out for a run. And as I am retired I can, so I do. For the purist, it may not be their best buddy. It is a touch toylike, and more a representation than a 'proper' model. Somewhat model driver-unfriendly also, as he or she would never see either the water level or the steam pressure, and would more than likely catch their foot in the exposed floor-level gears. However its simplicity, ease of firing, robustness and general good behaviour are plus points, not to mention the modest cost and somewhat endearing whirriness of operation. As much as I hate to be anthropomorphic over models, it definitely has character. And my Darjeeling B-class has yet to take a 30" curve on two wheels, at least not successfully....

 

Such a loco would seem right for tweaking, modding, and general upgrading, to make it more realistic in appearance. Possibilities include replacing the jubilee clip and painting or replacing various brass nuts and bolts, which rather stand out against the paintwork. A driver is definitely needed, once the gears have been covered, and a wood-and-brass-band makeover for the boiler would be a marked improvement.

 

Finally, the big question. Would IK Brunel have been proud to have his name associated with this loco? Not bursting with uncontrolled joy perhaps, seeing the wide range of more sophisticated engines which might bear his name, but probably content to be associated with something simple and sturdy which should last for some considerable time. Now, I read somewhere recently that Roy Wood is offering a slightly more sophisticated De Winton. Perhaps it would fill a gap while the Slaters kit gets built?

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