Vicky Ewan: My son's passion for transport on right lines

My son has lately become fascinated with trains. It’s an interest that I always suspected might be waiting in the wings, but was shrouded from view for some time by his love for all vehicles, regardless of genre.

He has been an avid collector of miniature die-cast cars since infancy; he likes them all, but his particular favourites are the small-scale models of actual cars - particularly the elite models.

I must admit, I can easily see why they capture his attention: compact, glossy, and realistic, they appeal to the imagination of curators young and old. Plus, they have the dimensions to lend themselves perfectly to little hands (and are a relatively inexpensive pocket-money treat; Father Christmas never fails to slip one or two into his stocking).

My son’s expansive fleet was a mighty boon during Lockdown 1: The Original Lockdown; hours could be happily and healthily whiled away sorting, arranging, and playing with the plethora of cars. His chief preoccupation with the cars centres around ordering them in some way - either by brand, by colour, or by preference. He also delights in fitting them into the selection of multi-transport carriers he owns.

His Godmother, apprised of his love for this collection, thoughtfully set him a challenge to count the number in his possession; it was a task that absorbed his youthful attention for an appreciable period. At that time, he was thrilled to discover he had around 100 vehicles; I suspect he may have doubled that figure now - though there has been no subsequent census to verify this.

My son’s love for these cars persisted, and, as he grew older, he honed his interest through watching videos about supercars. He became fascinated by the speeds of vehicles; this led on naturally to him discovering the Japanese bullet train, and so began a general regard for the locomotive world.

With an uncle and aunt - and more recently, a sister or two - living in London, his attention soon turned to that city’s impressive transport system. With enviable ease, he familiarised himself with the various Tube lines and how they ran - though I hadn’t quite understood the extent of his knowledge until my daughter and her girlfriend visited at Christmas. Newly arrived, they bemoaned the deplorable journey they had undergone, describing stops and starts, delays, and station malfunctions.

Without turning a hair, my young son calmly reeled off a description of more than one alternative route they could have taken to minimise their inconvenience and stress, leaving us listeners in rather a stunned silence, the travellers abashed, and me fervently promising myself to consult this small oracle in the first instance, should I ever discover myself in a similar predicament.

Recently, my son has found a new computer game that feeds beautifully into his developing love of all things train. The game involves scheduling and transporting trains from one station to another, with realistic announcements, timetables, and interactions with other players. Although ostensibly employing fictional destinations, one of the stations it features is apparently based on Waterloo Station, which serves to augment its appeal.

The graphics are rather crude in comparison with the sophisticated scenes depicted in today’s popular games, but my son is unconcerned. He is fully engaged with the platform, and has the names of the stations committed to memory. Nothing, however, competes with real life experience; thankfully, he is fortunate enough to be visiting his sister for a weekend in London soon, and has in advance of his trip elicited from her a promise that they will go trainspotting whilst he is in the city. He has already identified several potential routes that he would like to take to a couple of stations to capitalise on the experience; my daughter has agreed in principle to one of these expeditions, sensing, I imagine, that they will take up a fair portion of time and may be less than scintillating for anyone but the intrepid enthusiast himself.

Having said that, it’s difficult not to become caught up in his excitement, so rapturous and eloquent is he about the subject; I rather suspect that she will indulge his whims more generously than she is presently proposing. He has also stipulated that he and his other siblings will be taking a different route than usual from Paddington to their destination in Greenwich, in order to hop on an Elizabeth line train; its coveted status is more than sufficient compensation for the minute it will add to the length of the journey. I am tranquil, safe in the knowledge that no matter how many stations they enter, how many journeys they explore, and how much time they spend travelling, one thing is for certain:with my younger son at the helm, they definitely won’t get lost.