That’s the Pannier build done. There are things I wish I’d done better, there are things wrong I can’t correct now, but for better or worse it’s finished. It looks like a 57, and most people seem pleased to see it. I plan to deliver it to the client at the end of this month.
For those that care about the details, it’s a GWR 5700 Class 0-6-0PT, built in 1930 by the North British Locomotive Company in Glasgow. The model represents 7752 as it may have appeared in the mid-1930s, so details and livery have been researched—with help from my friends, as I am not a follower of the GWR—to match the period. The actual loco still exists and runs in preservation, currently in the guise of L94 in London Transport livery. The etched plates come from various sources: works plate from Severn Mill Nameplates; number plates from Guilplates; caution plate (in the cab) from CPL. Transfers are from CPL, paint from Phoenix Precision, wheels and motor from Slater’s Plastikard, the crankpin nuts are from CPL (they don’t have a web site, sadly) and the crew from Heroes of the Footplate. The kit itself is from Just Like The Real Thing.
The workbench is now being cleared to make room for the next commission in line, which ought to be a larger steam loco, or possibly a GWR broad gauge passenger luggage van. Decisions, decisions.
There’s also a Flickr photostream with plenty of photos. Impressive stuff. Bear in mind that many of the working items on the real aircraft have been replicated as working items in manila paper and glue.
The Mark 1 coach build is nearing completion. As I type the sides have been given a top coat of varnish to seal the transfers in place and protect them and the paintwork from handling.
Placing the transfers has taken me a couple of days to complete. The chosen livery has two colours, and the demarcation between them has fine black and gold lining. The way the colours split means two parallel rows of lining on each side, so eight sets of lining to do in total for this build.
I used waterslide transfers from a company called Fox Transfers. If you’ve ever built an Airfix kit, you’ll know what I mean by “waterslide”. You trim out the transfer you want and immerse it in water for some seconds, and then it slides from the backing paper into place on the model. The caveat with Fox’s product is it really does like warm water, and the problem then becomes how to keep water at a suitable temperature over an extended period. My solution involves an aluminium baking tray and a tea light!
The lining transfers take time, because you can’t simply immerse an entire length and expect to slide it off in place. Tangles and tears are guaranteed, so the method I use is to trim the lining down to manageable lengths, no more than about 40mm, and place them carefully along the coach side. It takes longer, needs a deal of patience (and a powerful magnifying lamp in my case), but the results speak for themselves. This technique also works across door and panel joins, rather than trying to push the transfer down into the gaps.
Once the lining was done, it was time for the running numbers. Again, Fox Transfers came into their own. I used a fine brush to guide each individual number into place, before gently dabbing excess water away with a cotton bud.
Thoughts are now turning to weathering the models. My client requested a “slightly tired” finish, so I’ve been studying as many photos as I can lay my hands on to get a feel for how mainline coaching stock weathered in service. This is also an excuse for legitimately lounging about with a hot mug of tea, perusing lots of books!
The publication of choice is currently Martyn Welch’s The Art of Weathering, published by Wild Swan. An excellent primer in the various techniques and tools required to achieve a realistic finish to scale models.
Currently, I am considering weathering the sides before I finally assemble the models. I can do the same for the roofs, ends and underframes. Once assembled, a unifying dusting can be applied if required.
I hope to document the process, so watch out for further posts.
I am a professional model-maker. I make models of all kinds, at all scales, and to all requirements. I currently have three more 7mm scale coaches and a 7mm scale locomotive in the queue for my workbench. Have a look at what I do over at my web site. You can also find me on Facebook: search for Heather Kay Modelmaker.
Having completed the Collett build, I decided to have a week or so just working on personal projects as a sort of break from railway models. I’ve got several very long term projects on the back burner—in fact, it’s getting a bit crowded back there—and just occasionally I shift one to the front for a bit to see if I can get it closer to completion.
One of those projects is a TSR2 diorama. The plan is to represent the first prototype XR219 sitting on the apron at A&AEE Boscombe Down, being prepared for its first flight towards the end of 1964. I have the aircraft, almost complete, just needing some final paint and the transfers applied. I have acquired some of the ancillary vehicles that are visible in documentary footage of the time. It is one of those vehicles I have been giving some attention this week.
This is a Sentinel Mk1 aircraft tractor. It’s a 1/76th scale whitemetal cast kit from BW Models, and like the real thing weighs an absolute ton. You can see the paint is mostly complete, and I have fabricated a finer windscreen to replace the chunky frame in the kit.
There’s a bit of paint detailing to do at the rear, to pick out lights and reflectors. Some protective varnish, some suitable transfers, and some subtle weathering, and this will be complete and can go back in its box until the diorama is created.
Just to give a sense of scale, here’s the highly-trained British penny doing the honours.
I spent yesterday painting figurines for the three coaches on my workbench. The models are meant to represent the condition they were in in the middle 1950s, and the client helped choose some suitable figures. There are about a dozen characters altogether. Here’s a selection.
Bear in mind this James Dean lookalike is about 40mm in height.
Yes, the paint is a bit rough in places, but the camera is a cruel taskmaster. Even working under a powerful magnifier, I couldn’t actually see some of these flaws. My other excuse—not that I need one—is the figures will be fitted inside a model railway coach, which doesn’t have any internal illumination. I think they’ll pass muster, even if my internal perfectionist complains.
I build models for people to make a living. Check out my web site where you can see more of the work I am doing, as well as past projects.
Lurking amid the detritus of my workbench, and taking about as long to emerge from its cocoon as the real thing, is TSR-2 serial XR219.
Did you know the real aircraft, if they had gone into production and squadron service with the RAF were to be called Eagle? TSR, incidentally, stands for Tactical Strike Reconnaisance, being the key roles for the aircraft in service.
The real world seems to be heading ever further through the looking glass, and the temptation to blog about and comment on all the lunacy going on is a hard one to overcome. I had intended this year to be one where I wrote more about happier things, so let’s see if I can redress the balance a little.
As you may be aware, I enjoy most forms of transport. I love the history, the stories, the tales of human endeavour to go ever bigger, faster and higher. Having had a run of railway models I have been working on for clients and friends, I decided my modelling bench needed something a little more high tech. While my aerial interests tend to be firmly planted around 1940 for the most part, I do have the occasional flirt with things a little more recent—if you can call the mid-1960s “recent”, that is! It is easy to forget now, but in the 1950s and 1960s, Britain’s aircraft industry was world-beating.
Currently on my workbench, and not in a particularly photogenic state right now, is a 1/72nd scale BAC TSR-2. I am trying to go to town with this model. Thanks to various after-market manufacturers, the model has authentic cockpit interiors, the correct ejector seats, lifted canopies, wheels that are suitably bulged to give the impression of weight, more accurate engine details and crew access ladders. I have added extra detailing to the wheel wells, given an impression of the hydraulic pipework around the undercarriage, and generally pimped the whole thing. It is currently in bits going through several coats of paint before the decals are applied.
I am never quite content to simply build a model in isolation. What I plan on doing with this bit of British aerospace history is to place it some kind of context. If you watch the following video (part of a four-part upload to YouTube), and head for around the six-and-a-half minute mark, you’ll see the only example of the TSR-2 to ever fly, serial XR219, surrounded by all kinds of ancillary equipment and vehicles on the apron at Boscombe Down. I plan to create a diorama to show the aircraft in just this situation—or near to it.
(Incidentally, if you can spare an hour and this kind of thing interests you, it is worth viewing the whole set of videos. It puts the story of the TSR-2 project in its historical context. The elderly chap in the glasses is Roland Beamont, who was the test pilot on the project and also a Battle of Britain fighter pilot.)
Amazingly, most of the vehicles and bits are available in kit form from BW Models. At one point, I reckoned I could spend over £100 from that source alone! I have reined back a little, and while I save my pennies and wait for paint to dry I am working out the best way to create the concrete apron.
I am not trying to recreate the exact scene in the grab above. I am sort of aiming for something that may have occurred a few minutes before the film was shot. The aircraft will have been towed into position, and I plan to have the tow bar and tractor having just unhitched. The protective covers over the engine intakes and exhausts will be in the process of being removed. The oxygen and power generator trolleys are being positioned. The refueller and the CO2 truck will be there, too, and probably a Land Rover or similar.
Now, quite what I am going to do with this diorama—which will probably be almost a metre square—remains to be seen. Once I’ve photographed everything, the vehicles and aircraft will end up in the display cabinet, but the rest will end up in storage. Perhaps one of the museums might like it for display…
Another might-have-been of the British aircraft industry was the Fairey Rotodyne. I have a kit for one of those stashed away somewhere. Current ideas revolve around the “what if” had the RAF adopted the aircraft as originally envisaged in the late 1950s.
All the footage was shot in HD on the EOS 7D, but due to indifferent lighting conditions the ISO boost ended up leaving a ton of digital noise. This is why the video is not HD, and has been turned to black and white. It still sort of works.
If I plan to shoot further layout video, I think I will need to do it under stricter conditions, bring my own lighting and have a plain backdrop to avoid distractions. I will also need to shoot the same movement from several angles, so a proper story can be made. Live and learn.
This is a 7mm scale AEC Monarch, built from a Classic Commercials kit. I started building this a couple of years ago, but it got sidelined by other stuff, such as real life.
Having some time between other projects, I decided to get it finished. The model is pretty much built from the kit, with one or two additional touches. I’ve added pipe detailing around the fuel tank, modelled a prop shaft, and enhanced the kit’s steerable wheel feature. I had to replace the moulded sidelights as they were slightly crooked. Close inspection will show the radiator badge reads “Mammoth”. This is because the etched stainless steel parts were designed for a 6-wheeled lorry, which would have been correct for a Mammoth Major.
Still to be done is the glazing, and final details such as wipers and mirrors. and finishing touches to the paint. The headlamps appear opaque white, because the clear filler hasn’t cured properly yet to leave a transparent lens effect. Currently, I don’t feel confident enough to hand letter the cab, but I may have a go at the pinstripe lining that was common on such vehicles in their heyday in the late 1940s into the early 1960s.