The new series of 'The Responder' started on BBC1 last night and he plays Martin Freeman's father so that was probably his last acting part

RIP Bernard.
He was the king of Rohan in the LOR trilogy,
loved him in Boys from the black stuff, should try and find that on a streaming service to watch again.

The name rings a bell, though I've never seen the show you mention. What part did he play in Lord of the Rings?

Famous for playing Yosser Hughes (Gissa job) in 'Boys from the black stuff' through to Lord of the Rings and Titanic, he was a very versatile actor and will be sorely missed

Amidst the lively hum of conversation and the delicate chime of crystal glasses, the family's formidable Head Butler, Huw Jenkins, moves with precision, orchestrating the evening's festivities. Guests—dressed in their finest attire—exchange pleasantries, their laughter punctuating the evening air.

And there, amidst the throng of adults, stands Sylvie. Her youth belies a quiet confidence, and her beauty draws every eye. As her proud parents introduce her to the assembled company, Sylvie navigates this adult world with poise.

At her side, Isadora—her steadfast companion—grounds Sylvie. Her godmother's mature allure complements Sylvie's youthful beauty, balancing innocence with worldly wisdom. Together, they bridge the gap between generations, combining beauty and duty.

Sylvie's dark brown eyes widen as she takes in the well-known faces around her, their names familiar from her parents—the seasoned diplomats, the distinguished politicians, including government members of the Third Churchill Ministry, renowned military men, scientists, actors, artists, authors, industrialists, and top managers from the six Regions of British Railways, leavened with charming socialites—all gathered this beautiful evening.

She recalls how her father had explained that the previous year's Transport Act had reorganised the British Railways with a system of area boards for each of its regions, Sir Brian Robertson becoming its first Chairman.

"Robertson", her father had stated over breakfast. "A name steeped in military valour. A man who cut his teeth on the battlefields of Africa and Italy. A strategist, no doubt—though railways are a different kind of theatre of operations. A web of steel arteries connecting cities, ports, towns, and villages, factories, and farms. The pulse of commerce, the ebb and flow of commuters, the surge of summer holidaymakers."

"And what of the challenges, Charles? The pressing need for investment and modernisation, the labour unions, the ageing locomotives, electrification versus dieselisation, the delicate balance between progress and tradition? Efficiency, speed, and comfort—the trifecta to woo passengers back to the rails?" Her mother had asked, echoing the frequently expressed opinions of their family friend, Sir George Widgeon III.

"Quite. The British Railways crest—a proud lion astride a wheel—has lost some of its roar. Punctuality woes, overcrowded carriages... Leadership demands more than epaulettes and brass buttons, Penny. It requires finesse—the ability to sway ministers, open purse strings, negotiate with unions, and keep the steel wheels turning smoothly."

Sylvie, suitably informed of such weighty matters, was well prepared for the world of grown-up soirées. Yet, the blend of elegance, curiosity, and intrigue was a heady mix.

In her gown of blossom pink, Sylvie stood poised, wine glass in hand. Yet, beneath her perfect exterior, trepidation lingered. This night would shape her destiny with consequences stretching into a future she could not yet see.

Her heart raced with anticipation. What would this evening reveal? What promises would be made? Adulthood beckoned—a delicate choreography of introductions, alliances, and unspoken understandings. Sylvie took a deep breath. She was ready, and two steadfast allies would be by her side.

Hi all.

Apologies for the break in service and thanks for everyone's concern! As mentioned I've just moved house and changed jobs so NGN took a little bit of a back seat for a while but things should be getting back to normal now. It is a one man effort in my free time and these types of events can easily eat up that time.

I do have a bit of a backlog on reviews, but these will start again shortly now things are bit more settled.

Thanks again!

Tom. 

Hi,

The livery is ficticious but the wagon is not  . It is a Dgw 266 built from 1953 for DB by Talbot works, Aachen, Germany. But yes, nowhere near a Walrus or such...

Cheers, Frank

Sylvie, entranced, gazes at her godmother. Once she twirled in short, calf-revealing beaded dresses, the flapper's signature, defying convention, adorned with strands of pearls, a cloche hat on her bobbed black hair, revelling in the syncopated beats of the Charleston, her silhouette straight and slim.

Her glamour, though faded, still shines, while her elegance remains undimmed. Etched lines frame her mouth now, her once flawlessly smooth face transformed by wry wisdom—the legacy of a life lived to the fullest. But her emerald eyes? Undimmed, they still sparkle with mischief and rebellion.

Sylvie often wondered why her parents had chosen such a spirited rebel to be her godmother. Lady Isadora's laughter, a lilting melody, drew Sylvie to her like a moth to a flame. Growing up, she had listened, enthralled, as Isadora's tales unfolded—a tapestry of jazz, eccentric artists, penniless poets, and sexual freedom. Isadora's carefree youth was filled with jazz-filled Soho nights—stolen kisses, whispered confidences, affairs by the score. If even half of Isadora's scandalous 1920s stories were true—when flappers danced on the very edge of propriety—then Sylvie had been granted a singularly inappropriate godmother.

When, in 1929, the stock market crashed, Isadora's laughter remained undiminished. Her fortune crumbled, but her spirit endured. The flapper era waned, yet its legacy lived on in her sequined memories of defiance, freedom, and the intoxicating thrill of being alive. Then the realization struck Sylvie: Isadora was the perfect woman to stand beside her as she navigated her imminent transition from her parents' girlish daughter to the Lady Trevelver to be, a woman of independence and great power.

Whenever Sylvie met Isadora, she stepped into a remembered world of jazz clubs and unmarked doors—hidden sanctuaries nestling in Soho's narrow alleys. Here, illegal all-night drinking clubs pulsed with life, their dimly lit cellars echoing with melodies conjured by pianists gliding their tireless fingers across the yellowed keys of upright pianos—spinning magic for restless souls.

But best of all were Isadora's breathless tales of her best friend's daring escapades. Evelyn was the personification of rebellion—an uninhibited flapper with bobbed bright blonde hair and an ivory cigarette holder. Smoke curling upward, defying convention, swaying to jazz rhythms, her laughter, effervescent as champagne bubbles, left uncounted broken hearts in her wake. Sequins and fringes adorned her scandalously short dresses, swirling as she twirled—her life a defiant protest against a world that demanded different from spirited young women.

Amidst the vivacity, Isadora's reminiscences sometimes turned sombre. She recalled the Army Captain, leaning against the bar, sharing wartime stories. His hooded eyes darkened by battles fought, comrades lost, and the ache of love lost.

And so, Sylvie had absorbed it all—the echoes of jazz, the defiance, the stolen moments, the joy, the scandal, the heartbreak. Isadora bridged eras—a living testament to a world where rebellion danced to the rhythms of jazz, hand in hand with romance taken whenever and wherever it could be found.

Indeed A bogie ballast wagon

Minitrix N506

The trovestar data.com

https://www.trovestar.com/catalog/4/items?Brand=Minitrix

Shows it also catalogue 517 as msr points out and
509 mick points out. Ford bogie covered van