You’d think after four decades on the railways, I’d have had enough of trains. That I’d take up, I don’t know, gardening. Fishing. Something sensible. But no. Some blokes retire and start golfing. I collect toy trains.
Not just any toy trains. Proper ones. The good stuff. Bits of history, engineering genius shrunk down, tiny worlds on rails. Some people scoff. “Toys,” they say, with that look. Those people have never felt the solid weight of a pre-war Hornby, never watched a Märklin locomotive glide along a track like it’s floating.
The First Hit: A Lifelong Obsession
It started with a Hornby clockwork train. My dad gave it to me when I was a kid, probably just to keep me quiet for five minutes. Didn’t work. Made it worse. I sat there for hours, watching that little tinplate locomotive rattle around in circles, totally hypnotised.
Football? Bicycles? Not interested. I was too busy figuring out how to make my train run smoother, how to build longer tracks, how to make the whole thing look real.
And that was it. Game over. First paycheck? Straight to a rare Tri-ang model. First proper bonus? Limited-edition British Rail Class 55. Somewhere along the way, I found a Märklin steam loco from a bloke who didn’t know what he had. Didn’t tell him. I practically ran home with it.
The Collection: A Growing Problem (But Not Really)
It started as a shelf. Then a cabinet. Then a room. Now? I’m running out of space. Hornby, Tri-ang, Märklin, Lima—stacked, boxed, displayed. Some still in their original packaging. Others halfway through restoration, their parts scattered across my workbench like a miniature train scrapyard.
Sue keeps asking where I think I’m putting the next one. I don’t have an answer. But I’ll find one.
A few of the stars of the show:
- 1930s Hornby O-gauge locomotive – Tinplate, clockwork, still runs like it’s fresh out of the factory. Nearly a hundred years old and still better engineered than half the modern stuff.
- 1950s Märklin HO steam loco – Smoother than most of the real ones I worked on. Precision-built. German efficiency in miniature form.
- Lima 1970s Spanish train set – A tiny, plastic tribute to Spain’s high-speed rail ambitions. Fitting, since I ended up here.
- Lionel Santa Fe diesel engine – Big. Bold. Flashy. The kind of thing Americans do best—pure excess, but in the best way.
Some are pristine. Others? Let’s just say they’re “in progress.” But that’s part of it.
Restoration: Swearing at Tiny Screws Since 1982
People think collecting is just owning things. It’s not. It’s fixing. Restoring. Breathing life back into something that’s been forgotten.
It’s hours spent hunched over a desk, cursing at microscopic screws, fabricating missing parts with hands that aren’t as steady as they used to be. It’s dust, grease, paint, and the heart-stopping moment when a train that hasn’t moved in decades suddenly hums back to life.
It’s glorious. Also maddening. But mostly glorious.
The Collector’s Underground
Turns out, I’m not the only lunatic. There’s a whole world of us—haunting flea markets, scouring estate sales, whispering about rare finds like we’re swapping state secrets.
Barcelona’s got a solid scene. People who can identify a locomotive from a single click of its wheels on a track. People who will fight—genuinely fight—over the exact shade of green on a 1960s British Rail model. People who understand why I get this excited over a 70-year-old bit of metal.
It’s nice, being around people who get it.
Sue’s Take: Long-Suffering, But Fond of One Train
Sue’s patience should be studied by scientists. She’s been putting up with this obsession for years. She doesn’t even bother asking anymore when a new locomotive mysteriously appears. Just gives me that look.
She’s got limits, though. The attic? Off-limits. The kitchen? A firm no.
But she’s got her own favourite—a little wooden train from the ‘40s that she won’t let me restore. Says it’s perfect as it is. I don’t argue. (Much.)
What’s next?
Retirement means time. Time to hunt down the missing gems. Time to restore the lost treasures. Time to finally catalogue everything so I don’t keep accidentally buying duplicates. (It happens more than I’d like to admit.)
But let’s be honest. I’ll just find another train I need to have. And when Sue inevitably asks, “Where the hell are you putting that?”
I’ll figure it out. I always do.
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