Railway signal box

The museum wasn't just about buses and trams — there was also a tiny caravan with little bunks and a kitchen where the railway track repair men used to live, and a real signal box we were allowed to go into! 

Wilson particularly liked all the dials and the old-fashioned telegraphs, but complained that the room smelled of oil.

'I couldn't have worked in this oily smell, New Dad!' he confided. I said nothing, but reflected that if he had worked in a signal box it would soon have smelled not of oil but of anteater.

The big levers for changing the points were very stiff and he wore himself out trying to pull them — so much so that we had to retire to the tea-rooms for refreshments.

Time is getting on, though, and we'll have to see about returning to the hotel once we've finished our coffees…