It's 7a.m. and I've just arrived at Toddington to help prepare and work on the footplate of Foremarke Hall, a 60 year old express passenger locomotive. Having signed in and checked the notices I've reported to Steve and Adrian, the fireman and driver for the day.

First task - lamps. One front, one rear and one for illuminating the water gauge (when in a tunnel, for example). Clean the wicks and fill with lamp oil. Then affix one to lower centre on front buffer beam, one similarly on rear of tender to indicate "light engine", and the little one goes in the cab by the gauge.

Second task - wash the loco. 7903 likes to be washed with a detergent solution (previously, I had to clean Black Prince with a paraffin/diesel mixture, and my overalls stank for a month afterwards). It feels high, and it is certainly warm, standing on the running board, reaching up to the top of the boiler and slapping soapy water all over the cladding. It evaporates almost instantly, because 7903 is already in steam, and a polish is necessary with a clean rag to get rid of streaks. The splashers over the wheels are particularly dirty. While I'm cleaning the green bits, Steve polishes the number and nameplates with Brasso.

Fortunately, the tender is relatively clean, and it takes little time just to clean the back. I've lost track of real time, but there's a cuppa ready and it's time for a break, just as the rain starts.

Back to work, and Steve provided me with an oil/paraffin mixture to use to clean the smokebox. You can see why smokeboxes are always painted black - it was covered with bits of coal and soot.

There's oil spillage around the vacuum brake mechanism that is clearly irritating the driver, so I struggle to get between wheels and pipes with a brush load of paraffin to clean it off. In doing so, I got oil on the wheel spokes, so that was another little cleaning job.

On the footplate, Steve explained that when he arrived at 6 a.m. there were still embers from Saturday, which he raked and then piled wood and coal on top of. Hence there was already a good fire and 120 pounds of pressure on the dial. However, (always a cue for a "gulp") all the coal was now at the back of the tender, and needed to be pulled forward to where the fireman could get at it. So, armed with a pick and a shovel, he and I clambered into the tender and up onto the coal. It was jolly hard work persuading the lumps to move forward, and must have taken the two of us about 20 minutes.

There was ample steam raised, so the driver, who had spent the past 2 hours lubricating some 100 or so places around the engine & tender, eased 7903 onto the ash pit for the overnight ash to be cleaned out. It is essential to use a hose to wet the ash otherwise it flies everywhere in a choking cloud. As it was, the wet mush just splashed all over my overalls! Having dumped the ash and water into the pit, 7903 was rolled forwards, and Adrian and I shovelled the wet ash back out of the pit into a barrow for Steve to wheel off and deposit elsewhere. The remaining water in the pit was sucked out by pump.

Though it was only 10.30, Adrian ran the loco across to the main line, and down towards Platform 2. But before coupling up to the coaches, we topped up the tender with water. This is a two-man job, and I was on top of the tender while Adrian operated the water tower - swinging the "bag" across to the tender and turning the water on once I had the bag safely inside the tender filler hole. I had to watch the water level in the tender, and tell Adrian when it reached 3" from the top. Human reaction time, plus the water still in the pipe, means that flow continues for a short while after you have shouted "Stop!". This provides an ideal opportunity to clean your shoes, or even your overalls, if you remove the "bag" from the tender too quickly!

With 4,000 gallons in the tank, 3 tons of coal in the tender, and 180 pounds pressure on the "clock", Foremarke Hall was ready for duty. As there were 45 minutes before the 11:30 departure, there was just time for an early lunch!

Now came my chance to experience life on the footplate as a reward for the morning's hard work - as a fireman. I soon learned that there is more to being a fireman than just looking after the fire. Of course the role includes making sure there is water in the boiler and there is pressure on the dial, but there are lots of other responsibilities that I hadn't thought of.

Coupling the loco to the carriages is the first example. As the driver buffers up the loco tight, he calls for the handbrake to be applied - that's the fireman's job: Screw down the brake and announce, "Handbrake on". The driver then puts the reversing lever into neutral and releases the vacuum brake. It is now safe to clamber down and go under the buffers to couple up - another fireman's job: "Going under!" First action is to disconnect the engine's vacuum pipe (there is then no chance of the engine moving). Then heave the engine's coupling from its rest onto the hook of the carriage, and screw it up (but not too tight - it needs to have some slack). Finally, connect the coach vacuum pipe to that of the engine to enable it to operate the brakes on the coaches. Just check that the driver has moved the lamps from "light engine" to "stopping passenger" position - centre top.

Back in the cab, check the dampers. Dampers are doors beneath the fire grate that allow (or restrict) airflow from underneath the fire. As a general rule, you open the one that isn't in the direction of travel, and close the one that is. This is to avoid the air blowing up through the fire as you travel along, which might cause it to burn too harshly or even cause flames to lick out of the fire hole door. 7903 was about to set off backwards, so I opened the front damper.

Travelling backwards tends to cause coal dust to fly off the tender into the cab. So, you wet the coal with a hose, known as the pep pipe, that is by the fireman's seat. Wash the cab floor, too, to get rid of any more dust.

A vital task for the fireman is keeping an eye on the signals, and alerting the driver. So, as soon as the signalman pulls off the starting signal the fireman tells the driver, "Right One". Then, as the train trundles along, you keep watch for the next signal. If the next signal is against you, tell the driver, "Board Against us". Where you can see two signals clear ahead, say "Right One, Right Two, Driver". You have to keep watching the signals just in case the signalman resets it to "Danger" before you are past it - in which case you yell, "Stop!" This task of maintaining a close watch on the signals goes on throughout the entire journey.

But we were still at Toddington, awaiting the nod from the Guard. The platform cleared; the Guard waived; "Right Away, Driver"; a whistle of acknowledgement from the driver and 7903 started to roll. The Fireman's job now is to lean out and watch the train as it leaves the platform, to make sure no-one opens a carriage door or does anything stupid. "Clear of platform". Back to fire, water and pressure.

"Right One, Driver". 200 pounds pressure (7903's maximum is 225). Half a glass of water. The next 10 miles require the skill, experience and knowledge of the route that the real fireman has. I just do as I am told!

As we pass the signal box, the fireman leans out of the cab, arm outstretched to collect the Token from the signalman. "Toddington to Winchcombe token", he says to the driver, showing it to him at the same time. "OK", confirms the driver, and the fireman hangs the token on a hook in the cab. The token gives the train right of way along a single line. At the far end, the token is given over to allow a train to pass in the opposite direction. This simple method of ensuring only one train is on the line at a time was introduced in the very early days of rail travel after a few occasions when trains met each other head-on on the same track!

The level of water visible in the water gauge goes up and down as you roll along. It is not exactly a precise measure. As you accelerate, it goes down; as you brake, it goes up; and in between it just goes up & down! The fireman's objective is to keep the water glass between half and 9/10ths full. Ideally you should only add water when the pressure is high enough, and the driver doesn't need the power (i.e. when the train is coasting on the level or downhill are ideal).

"Add some water until either the glass is full or pressure drops to 180", calls Steve. I turn the water on, and then turn the injector handle one turn anti-clockwise. Peering out of the cab at the injector overflow, I carefully tap the water handle back to about three-quarters and listen for the change of tone that indicates water is flowing into the boiler (and not out of the overflow pipe). It seems to take about 3 minutes before the pressure drops, and I turn off the injector and the water.

"Board against us, Driver". The signalman at Winchcombe holds the down passenger until the up passenger is safely stationary in Platform 1. "Right One". Foremarke Hall eases off once more.

As we drew towards the platform, it was my turn to have a go with the token. I hang out of the cab with left arm outstretched and holding our token in my left hand. The Signalman is standing on the platform holding out another token, and reaching out to grab mine. "Make sure you take his new one, and if he misses yours, just drop it." Steve instructed. "If you miss, he has to walk all the way down the platform to the engine to give it to you, and he won't be happy!"

"Cheltenham token, Driver." I called, showing him the name on it. Then I had to lean out of the cab watching along the coaches to make sure no one opened a door too soon, as we slowed to a halt in Winchcombe platform.

Check the pressure. Check the water. Check the fire. You avoid adding coal to the fire in a station because of the black smoke that it causes. Also, you avoid injecting water in a station just in case the water flow does not pick up, and a jet of steam gushes out of the overflow pipe all over the onlookers. Similarly, you don't inject water when passing through a tunnel - partly because you can't see what the heck you're doing, but also there may be a Permanent Way person lurking in the gloom who would not appreciate a hot shower.

"Right One, Driver", but we can't go until the Guard says so. Yet another Fireman's job is to look out for the Guard's signal. You acknowledge him with a wave; check the starting signal is still off, and "Right Away, Driver". Once more, the fireman watches the coaches as the train pulls out, just in case! Accelerating towards the tunnel, there's only time to check the fire and heave a few lumps into the far corners if you really have to; you don't usually add coal when starting away from a station.

It's a long way to the front of the firebox and I struggled to get coal that far forward. But it is vital to make sure there are no "holes" in the fire. If the coal burns through in one spot, it allows cold air to be sucked up through the grate, reducing the efficiency of the fire. At one point, the driver noticed a bright spot in the centre of the fire. This, he said, is burning through and is about to become a hole. I dumped a couple of shovels of coal onto it.

For much of the time, the fire hole doors are kept partially open to allow air in above the coal, where the coal and its gasses burn. You have to be careful in a tunnel. Because of the air pressure change, the driver turns on the blower (to keep a draught through the fire) and the fireman closes the doors to within about 3 inches. The objective being to avoid any flames leaping out into the cab. Plunging into Greet Tunnel, it is very dark and quite impossible to do anything, so the firebox doors are left slightly ajar just to give some light on the footplate.

On emerging into daylight, the fireman once again has to peer along the train and this time count the coaches! This is simply to check that we haven't left one behind in the tunnel - though if we had, the brakes would have gone on automatically.

It's a long run from Winchcombe through Gretton, and Bishops Cleeve into Cheltenham. There are several opportunities to inject water into the boiler while the driver is not demanding a lot of power. So, the pressure drops to, say, 180, and there is time for a good fire to build it back up again for when the driver needs it. So, all I have to do is keep up a good fire! Oh, and it is not good to add coal at a station, or when passing washing lines at Bishops Cleeve, because it creates black smoke.

The fireman has to keep an eye on the coach doors when passing through Gotherington, just in case someone tries to get off. The fireman also watches as he passes through Bishops Cleeve, because there is a public footpath crossing the line.

On the final approach to Cheltenham, there is opportunity to inject water, which has the benefit of dropping pressure and avoiding the pressure valves blowing off while in the station. Even though this is the end of the line, the signalman and fireman perform the token hand-over, because the signalman has to pass the token through his machine to confirm our arrival. The action begins as we come to a halt. The engine has to be decoupled and run round the train. The train is held on the vacuum brake while the guard applies his handbrake. Yet again, the fireman is responsible for watching out for the guard's signal that he has done so, and tells the driver: "Tip from the Guard". The driver eases the loco tight to the coaches and calls out: "Handbrake on!". Much screwing of the handbrake by the fireman.

"Handbrake on, Driver". The driver can then exhaust the vacuum brake, and the fireman tells him, "Going under".

Climbing down from the cab, the fireman has to clamber beneath the buffers to uncouple the engine. First, uncouple the vacuum hose (or "bags") between engine and coach. Unscrew the coupling and heave the link onto the resting hook on the buffer beam. Fit the coach's hose into its rest. Fit engine's into its rest. Clamber out and back into the cab. Driver applies vacuum brake; fireman unscrews handbrake; a toot on the whistle and the engine rolls away under the bridge.

Where points are operated manually, that's the fireman's job, too. But the signalman at Cheltenham switches the point and pulls off the signal; the fireman simply tells the driver when the signal is a "Right one". So, the engine runs round. The signal at the north end has a "calling-on" arm, smaller, and beneath the main arm. "Calling-on, platform one", and the fireman couples up. A wave to the guard (who is now right at the other end of the platform) to tell him that the loco is coupled and brakes are on. He disappears and after a moment re-appears with a having released his handbrake.

On the last leg heading homewards, tending the fire, water and pressure are just as important as during the day. The aim is to keep the pressure high (to within 10 pounds of the steam valves lifting), water high, and the fire spread thinly but still workable. I'll explain why in a moment.

I picked up a useful rule-of-thumb on this trip: keep the fire hole doors closed when the engine is working hard and needs the pressure; open the doors to let in cool air and keep the boiler pressure from rising too high. You can also use the injector to put cold water into the boiler to keep the pressure below blowing-off point, too.

We rolled into Toddington with a full glass of water and a full head of steam. I clambered down and performed the uncoupling ritual. Back on board, the driver gave a short whistle, and we moved forward into the head shunt, crossing onto the single track beyond the platforms. The "down main" signal came off, and we passed through Platform 2 up to the water tower.

 We then pushed the coaching stock beyond the platform, into the head shunt. Back through Platform 1 towards the signal box, then back and forth over the sidings and onto the pit. Just before rolling onto the pit, we made sure that it was empty - no ash, no water, no bodies in there!

Pressure was up at 200, and the injector was set on, to fill up the boiler with water. I took off the lamps, blew out their little flames and returned them to the Oil Store. Back at the engine, Adrian was searching for ear defenders, so I volunteered three from our Siphon. The fire was good, water level at the top of the glass, plenty of pressure, but what were the ear defenders for?

Adrian knelt down in front of the fire hole doors. "Must be some sort of Driver's end-of-day Ritual", I was thinking, but no - he lifted the shovel plate and reached down below it with a spanner in his hand. Below there, almost at the bottom of the firebox, is the blow-down valve. As Adrian struggled with unscrewing this 'plug', steam began to hiss out beneath the cab floor. When Adrian had opened it up fully, the roar of steam was deafening. The full pressure of the boiler was forcing out water, which itself instantly turned into steam. The purpose is to clean out sediment that settles in the lowest point in the boiler, which is actually at the bottom of the water jacket around the firebox, just above the foundation ring. The force of this steam would have blasted out anything that was in the pit - hence the reason for making sure it was empty before we started.

It took several minutes, with steam almost entirely engulfing the loco. It reminded me of the old back-and-white films in which engines always seemed to be in the midst of a cloud of steam. Steam was allowed to blast out until the gauge glass was down to a quarter full. Then the valve was shut off, the injector was set on, and water was pumped back into the boiler. The fire had been kept workable, so that pressure could be raised once again. Adrian said that experience had shown that two blow-downs were optimal for riding the boiler of the sediment, so the exercise was repeated once more, and the boiler re-filled with water.

After the second blow-down, Steve put the blower on and sent me round to the smokebox. I opened the door and shovelled out the ash that had accumulated there during the day's work. There was a dustbin full of ash, and more. A quick brush round the edges of the smokebox door to make sure it would close tightly. When in service, the door has to be absolutely air-tight, otherwise you get secondary burning of bits of coal that might have been drawn through from the fire. The heat from this can distort the door and make matters worse.

Steve then raked the coals into a heap, rather than leaving the fire spread evenly over the grate. This helps to make the heat last longer, which means that the boiler cools down more slowly, and as a result suffers less stress.

After that, Steve hosed down the ash in the ash-pan. Some engines have a pipe fitted inside the ash-pan to be able to sprinkle water over the ash, either by fitting a hose to it or even by connecting it to the injectors. The ash is so fine that it flies everywhere, so it is essential to dampen it before raking it out into the pit.

I had to leave at that point - it was past 6 p.m. already. I guess that there was enough pressure to move the loco back off the pit, if necessary, and then to clear out the ash. This would be necessary if a second engine were to "come on shed", as it were, and would need to blow down over a clear pit.

This concludes my tale of the duties of a fireman. As you see, it is not just about shovelling coal and keeping warm (though I had no trouble in the latter!).

This article was adapted from 3 pieces written by Roger Molesworth for Cotswold Steam Preservation Limited, the owners of GWR 2-8-0 number 2807.