THE 17.52 from Darlington to Saltburn last Tuesday evening would have been fine had it been a bit warmer, a bit more comfortable and, ideally, enjoyed the attentions of that colourful conductor chap who got on television for making his announcements in verse.

Irony unintended, they call these geriatric diesel units Pacers, perhaps for the same delusional reason that fat old men buy tracksuit bottoms with go-faster stripes.

Still, the old jalopy judders promptly into its destination and thus in time for the annual meeting of the Saltburn Line User Group, known to its friends as SLUG, in the upper room of the Conservative Club.

Above the fireplace, where a portrait of Mrs Thatcher (say) might reasonably be expected to hang, is a large picture of Elvis Presley, hitherto not regarded as much of a Tory.

Like most trains on the line from Bishop Auckland through Darlington to Saltburn, the meeting sets away punctual to the second.

SLUG was formed in the 1980s to promote and protect the not-so-scenic route to the sea. There was a perception, says Keith Simpson, its chairman, that the line – and many more east of the main line – were under threat.

One of its leaflets describes the branch as “an invaluable economic and social asset.”

The meeting’s addressed by Pete Myers, stakeholder manager for Northern, the train operating company which runs the line and every other “local” service in the region. He’s impressive, articulate, honest and at times amusing.

“It’s an horrendous time to be in this industry, but we’re on the cusp of something that’s really great,” he says.

Major changes across the North-East take place from the weekend after next. By the end of 2020 the region’s railways may barely be recognisable.

Among the good news is that the Pacers will completely be withdrawn by the end of next year. “Withdrawn” has long been a railway euphemism meaning “scrapped”, though two will be retained for research purposes by Newcastle University.

Goodness knows what they plan to do with them: grow tomatoes, perhaps?

In the Pacers’ place will be newer – though not new – trains “cascaded” from other parts of the country. Though “cascaded” is not necessarily synonymous with “dropped on from a great height”, it does rather recall that song about Second Hand Rose. “She never had a single thing that’s new….”

Northern itself awaits delivery of 98 new three-carriage sets, but they’ll be going elsewhere. (Elsewhere isn’t the Whitby line, either.)

Pete acknowledges the problem. “I feel a bit like that Jim Bowen feller,” he tells them. “Come and see what you might have won.”

The franchise enjoins that everything has to be in place by the end of next year. “On January 1, 2020 we turn into a pumpkin,” says Pete. OK, not tomatoes, pumpkins.

DAYTIME frequency between Bishop Auckland and Darlington doubled at the end of last year and is going well, he says. “Ridership” – horrible word, but they don’t seem to have a euphemism for that one – is up five per cent, punctuality on the branch is about 98 per cent.

Things aren’t so good on the Whitby line, though. The Whitby line, he says, is pretty rubbish – though the milk train, probably not churning its money, is set to return.

Before turning into pumpkins, they also hope to introduce fast trains between Tees, Tyne and Carlisle, possibly returning passenger trains to the route between Stillington and the main line at Ferryhill.

He talks of leaves on the line – “last year we suffered unbelievably” – of accessibility problems at stations like Billingham and Eaglesliffe, of his optimism about a new station serving Horden and Peterlee and of the perversely famous Teesside Airport station which has two trains a week but will soon face a huge bill – “millions” – for major reconstruction.

Peel Holdings, who run the airport, are said to be responsible for the station. “It’ll be in the papers,” says Pete.

Since this is the 21st Century, and with memories of Paddy Roberts’s 1960s song about workmen working underneath being apt to get it in the teeth, they’re even doing something about the direct line from the toilets.

There’s future talk, too, of hydrogen-powered trains. “If you’re talking to the hydrogen people, don’t mention the Hindenberg,” says Pete. “They’ve heard all the jokes before.”

The real elephant in the room, which should not be confused with the picture of Elvis, is the long running RMT industrial dispute over the future role of guards. Lamented in Keith Simpson’s previous annual report, it’s still going nowhere.

“I wish I could tell you that there’s light at the end of the particular tunnel,” he says, “but I don’t believe that there is.”

COINCIDENTALLY, there’s a memories of Saltburn piece in the spring issue of Gresley Observer, the magazine of the (Sir Nigel) Gresley Society, remembering steam-misted days by the sea. Thirty trains a day between Saltburn and Darlington, another ten to Middlesbrough and three to Thornaby.

The 1923 Bradshaw listed 20 trains in each direction, the journey time about an hour and 20 minutes. These days it’s about 55 minutes, offering precious little time for the poor driver to get his pipe before returning whence he came.

Gresley Observer writer Michael Williams also recalls the class L1 locomotive 67777, greatly familiar on that route in the 1950s and known to a generation of train spotters as the Flying Sevens – the picture, with thanks to GO editor and former Saltburn schoolboy Chris Nettleton, is of a different L1.

Familiarity being what it, we raggy trousered Shildon lads didn’t always call it The Flying Sevens, of course. Time flies, too.

THE meeting ends with a little debate about the group’s popular name – “our friendly acronym,” says the chairman.

It’s not that they regard it as particularly pestilential, or that they’re worried about SLUG pellets and the like, rather that for a group promoting the whole 27.5 mile branch from Darlington they might be becoming, as Keith puts it, a bit Saltburn-centric.

Someone suggests the Quaker line, someone else the Tees Valley line. Finally it’s agreed that SLUG will remain; it might have been difficult in any case, to cover up its trails.

The column has to leave before the raffle’s drawn. Neither warm, comfortable nor rhyming with the times, there’s the half past nine train to catch.

JUST 12 hours later we’re on the TransPennine to the superlative city of Liverpool, one of those periodic Club 55 offers – available until May 19 – which with a codgers’ railcard buys a first class return for £32. Complimentary coffee and croissants outward, lemon drizzle cake – for those so inclined – on the return.

Better yet, the notoriously overcrowded three-car TransPennine sets will be replaced before year’s end by new five-car trains offering 117 more seats. Getting there? Sometimes it almost seems so.