• Published 1st Jan 2020
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Thomas and Friends: The Retold Adventures - The Blue EM2



Picture a Land where the Sky is so Blue, a Storybook Land of Wonder...

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James and the Leather Bootlace

James was right to be worried. The next day, as Rarity was oiling him round for his next run, Sir Toppham Hatt arrived in his blue Rover P4 90, a wonderful old vehicle that ran beautifully. Sir Toppham Hatt got out and walked over, looking very cross.

“Good morning sir!” Rarity called. “How can I help you this fine morning!”

“That stunt you pulled yesterday was not funny!” Sir Toppham Hatt snapped.

“ME?!” Rarity exclaimed. “Well, that’s hardly-”

“I was talking to James!” Sir Toppham Hatt replied. “I do no appreciate having my clothes covered in water, especially my new Top Hat! Do you have any idea how much it cost to have it made on Saville Row?”

James, being a steam engine, had no concept of money, and as a result this idea was meaningless. “But it was an accident!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t care!” Sir Toppham Hatt answered. “If you can’t behave, I’ll have Crovan’s Gate remove the red livery and have you painted blue!” He then walked away without another word.

Rarity looked after him. “But Henry is green,” she said, confused.



James, safe to say, was very cross that morning, having been blamed for what was clearly an accident. He banged into the coaches and moved them around very roughly.

“Please don’t bang the coaches James!” Rarity called, from the footplate as she struggled to keep her balance.

“Quiet!” James snapped. “Sir Toppham Hatt blames me for something I didn’t do, and now you take his side!”

Rarity began to seethe with anger. “Well, I never!” she snapped.

James was too angry to listen. Or care. “Besides,” he said, continuing with his rant, “Gordon never has to fetch his coaches, and he’s only painted blue!”

To compound matters even further, nobody came to see James this time, yesterday's incident having cast a black cloud over proceedings on the rails. The guard’s whistle went as the signal arm dropped down, indicating a clear line. There was also a green flag, and James whistled loudly.

“They think only Gordon can pull passengers,” he grumbled. “Well, I’ll show them! I’ll show them!” And he set off with a rattle and a roar up the line, six coaches in tow behind him as they flew up the line.

James’ good power and focused adhesion meant he was able to keep up high speeds without slipping on the rails, making him perfect for this sort of passengers working on the line. “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” he called, pretending to be like Gordon as they sped along the rails toward their destination.

“You’re going too fast! You’re going too fast!” the coaches complained, but James paid them absolutely no heed as he flew along the railway line, over Gordon’s hill and even through the tunnel at Ballyhoo!

Suddenly, just as they excited the tunnel portal, James began to slow down. “Come on!” he shouted at the coaches. “Go faster!”

“We're going to stop, we’re going to stop!” they cried. The train got slower, and slower, and slower, until it eventually ground to a complete and total stop a few miles short of the Vicarstown station approaches.

James looked around in fury. “What in the world has happened?” he asked.

Rarity studied the gauges in confusion. “According to the vacuum brake gauge here, air is in the system and the brakes themselves are hard on. Which is odd, as I haven’t applied the brakes at all, and your regulator is still open James!” She hopped off his footplate. “This will merit a look at the problem from the probable source.”

James did not argue with Rarity, irrespective of the fact what she had just said made no sense at all, as he needed her to figure out what was wrong. Rarity continued to fiddle with the brake pipe until she figured out the problem.

“Well, no wonder the brakes are on!” she said finally.

“What’s the cause?” James asked.

“The pipes are leaking. One has a hole about the size of my index finger. It must have been created when you were banging the coaches earlier, which explains why the brakes have only just come on now.” Rarity was surprisingly good at technical explanations.

“Oops,” James relied.

“Well, I did warn you,” Rarity replied, disapprovingly. She then called the guard up the train. “We need some way of repairing the braking system,” she told him.

“I know of one old trick they used on the Great Western for this sort of problem,” the guard explained. “They had leaking pipes, so they took some old newspaper, and wrapped it around the leak to create a vacuum. Then they tied the newspaper into place using an old bootlace, and that held long enough for them to get to the next station.”

“That sounds like a marvellous idea!” Rarity said. She then called out. “Attention passengers! You wouldn’t mind getting off the train for a moment?”

All the doors opened and the passengers got out of the coaches, stepping into the six foot between the two running lines. Once everybody was in place, the guard began to explain.

“We have a leak in the pipes on the braking system,” he explained. “We need some old newspaper and a leather bootlace. Can anybody spare those items?”

A man handed over a newspaper, but another fellow, a Mr Jeremiah Jobling, fidgeted nervously and hid his new boots as best he could.

Rarity spotted this, and walked over to him. “Sir, you wouldn’t mind letting us borrow one of your bootlaces, would you?”

“I won’t!” Jobling replied. “It’ll ruin my brand-new bootlaces!”

All the passengers were in uproar over this.

“Well,” Rarity said sadly, “if we can’t have the leather bootlace, for the short amount of time we need it for, the train will simply sit here for always and always and always.”

The passengers then began to say what a bad railway it was, but then Rarity reminded them of the fact that Jeremiah Jobling wouldn’t hand over the bootlace. So, they all told him what a bad man he was. Everybody was very cross.

“Fine!” he exclaimed. “Here you go!” and he handed the bootlaces over.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Rarity replied, and walked over to the leaking pipes. She wrapped the newspaper tightly around the brake pipe, and tied the newspaper in place using the bootlace. Once this most unorthodox arrangement was completed, the brake pressure was restored to a point that the train could be operated. Rarity hopped back onto James’ footplate, and sounded the whistle, before reopening the regulator.

Upon arrival at Vicarstown, Rarity undid the bootlace and handed both it and the newspaper back to their previous owners, before uncoupling James and running him into a siding to run back home to Tidmouth while the Vicarstown station pilot dealt with the coaches.



The run back to Tidmouth was tense. Rarity constantly checked behind her as they ran along the line, and James said not a word, riding uneasily as they ran back down the line. They stopped just outside the shed to let the turntable reset, and James was backed over the turntable and into his berth. At which point, Rarity jumped off his footplate and started to walk over the gravel toward the parking lot, steam pouring from her ears.

“Rarity!” James called. “I’m-”

“Don’t talk to me, you fiend!” she snapped back, the venom in her voice silencing James. “I wanted to work with a proper, refined engine, not a red monster!” At which point, she got in her car, slammed the door, and drove away.

James’ mouth hung open in shock. “By Hughes,” he said. “I’ve really messed this one up.”

Author's Note:

Will everything be OK? Will Rarity find it in her heart to forgive James?

Find out tomorrow in...Thomas and Friends: the Retold Adventures!

Fun fact: the concluding conversation was loosely based on one between Rarity and Sweetie Belle in the story It Takes a While.

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