The last of the night mail
Recently I was photographing a conference at Buckinghamshire Railway Museum. While wandering round in a break I saw an old Travelling Post Office carriage that used to sort the mail overnight while travelling from London out to the extremities of the UK. It reminded me that I was privileged to be asked, by Royal Mail, to shoot the last train ever to sort mail in this way on January 9th 2004.
![tpo_01jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/9c/8d/9c8d6a9b-4bd7-491f-a2e7-9530a5288191.jpg)
It wasn't an easy task. The route the train was taking was from their depot in Wembley down to Cornwall. Naturally, I couldn't accompany them all the way (budgets were tight even before the 2007 financial crisis) so it was decided I would just go to Reading. Which meant driving there, hopping on a train into London and getting a taxi to Wembley. At 11pm. No taxi driver wanted to know; driver after driver at Paddington station turned me down. Finally one relented. It then took us nearly an hour to find the unsignposted yard where the train was being loaded.
![tpo_20jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/a0/11/a0118ca4-bd93-4fec-a3c3-4d0ff89606a1.jpg)
I remember it being incredibly cramped inside the carriages. A row of pidgeon-holes all along one side and sacks and sacks of unsorted mail ranged along the other side. A large tray jutted out underneath the pidgeon-holes were mail would be poured for the sorters to pick and file letters in the correct bays. It was a never ending process, done with speed and a fair amount of hilarity, mostly at my expense.
![tpo_06jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/ae/65/ae6559ff-a403-46c1-b491-dd50167c27f4.jpg)
Keeping balance was an art and I tried to reflect it in some of the shots, using a slow shutter speed mixed with flash to convey the constant rolling and juddering as the train moved along the tracks.
![tpo_29jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/a2/d0/a2d00491-a01f-4b07-b1da-b242f0a1cf60.jpg)
Facilities were basic. Sandwiches had to be brought and the only drinks had to be made from a water boiler; a slight progress from the previous hot water urn that had to last the journey.
![tpo_24jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/c7/fc/c7fc0aee-0bad-4c10-a406-ffcba137dd3c.jpg)
Finally, and all too soon, my journey with them was over and I departed at Reading station, leaving the sorters and drivers to continue on westwards to Cornwall.
![tpo_01jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/9c/8d/9c8d6a9b-4bd7-491f-a2e7-9530a5288191.jpg)
It wasn't an easy task. The route the train was taking was from their depot in Wembley down to Cornwall. Naturally, I couldn't accompany them all the way (budgets were tight even before the 2007 financial crisis) so it was decided I would just go to Reading. Which meant driving there, hopping on a train into London and getting a taxi to Wembley. At 11pm. No taxi driver wanted to know; driver after driver at Paddington station turned me down. Finally one relented. It then took us nearly an hour to find the unsignposted yard where the train was being loaded.
![tpo_20jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/a0/11/a0118ca4-bd93-4fec-a3c3-4d0ff89606a1.jpg)
I remember it being incredibly cramped inside the carriages. A row of pidgeon-holes all along one side and sacks and sacks of unsorted mail ranged along the other side. A large tray jutted out underneath the pidgeon-holes were mail would be poured for the sorters to pick and file letters in the correct bays. It was a never ending process, done with speed and a fair amount of hilarity, mostly at my expense.
![tpo_06jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/ae/65/ae6559ff-a403-46c1-b491-dd50167c27f4.jpg)
Keeping balance was an art and I tried to reflect it in some of the shots, using a slow shutter speed mixed with flash to convey the constant rolling and juddering as the train moved along the tracks.
![tpo_29jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/a2/d0/a2d00491-a01f-4b07-b1da-b242f0a1cf60.jpg)
Facilities were basic. Sandwiches had to be brought and the only drinks had to be made from a water boiler; a slight progress from the previous hot water urn that had to last the journey.
![tpo_24jpg](https://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/c7/fc/c7fc0aee-0bad-4c10-a406-ffcba137dd3c.jpg)
Finally, and all too soon, my journey with them was over and I departed at Reading station, leaving the sorters and drivers to continue on westwards to Cornwall.
![tpo_32jpg](http://files.websitebuilder.prositehosting.co.uk/4d/3c/4d3c0971-f0f5-4c7a-b2bb-3ff1d5f799ab.jpg)