Time’s Time: Time for Thomas (don’t interrupt him) & Time for Stelle (interrupt me ASAP)
* now, i once had a lovely introduction to this post. i did, honest. it discussed how twitter has gotten worse and worse, and how if things went well i will do my best to post more thomas stuff here, and even briefly mentioned what this post is actually about. . .
* then firefox crashed. * being new to tumblr, i had not saved a draft of my post. in fact, i found out you could save drafts mere minutes before firefox crashed. i thought to myself “wow! what a nifty feature!”, and then proceeded to not save it. this almost happened twice actually. i managed to save it the second time thankfully. i’m still livid though.
* thank you stelle, you are a really useless idiot.
* therefore, we’re not going to have that nice introduction. the only things you need to know from that post is that you can find me on Twitter (@DemonOfNowhere) for more of my usual infodumping, and that i’ve ditched my usual typing quirks in favour of making this post readable for you all. let’s get straight to the point instead. * greetings, i’m stelle, demon of nowhere (name change pending?), and it is unfortunately time for thomas.
Doesn’t it feel strange to see me type normally? With dignity? With even the slightest amount of respect for myself? Err, ahem, I mean... Thomas! I love Thomas. I love the ending of “Stepney’s Special” for Thomas.
Thomas tries very hard to maintain a very professional profile on his branch line. It’s likely something he picked up from Gordon, if his attempts to imitate him whilst he was younger are anything to go by (note “Thomas’ Train”). If you get in Thomas’s way, he kicks up such a fuss and holds it against you until either one of your gets a taste of Sudrian karma (”you” being Percy in this situation, usually). This all means that when Thomas is shunted to allow Stepney, a newcomer, fly past him with one measely coach while Thomas, Annie, Clarabel and their passengers crossly wait for him to pass, Thomas gets cross.
Really cross. Super cross. He holds it against Stepney and is still fuming by the time the next morning arrives.
Thomas spoils the effect of it very quickly though. Of course he does, he’s Thomas and he’s stupid. All Stepney had to do was give one compliment and next thing he knew, Thomas was telling him EVERYTHING about his branch like an eight-year-old telling their parent all about their cool new toy they got (don’t let Mattel hear about this). Stepney calls Thomas an expert once, and away Thomas goes, not only to stroke his own ego a little, but also just because he’s too happy to ramble about his prized branch line (which Percy and Toby clearly think is hilarious, based on the illustration...). He’s a bit like me in that sense; we like to ramble about things no one cares about, but we can’t stop ourselves. Please help me.
One of my favourite parts of this exchange is the following line: “Ah well,” said Thomas modestly.
“Modestly” is the funniest words ever used to describe Thomas the Tank Engine. You and I of course both know that, despite his good heart, he is anything but modest.
Now, there’s something else I’d like to talk about here too. If you’ve read my ramblings before, you know that I cannot type for five seconds without bringing up something else that I didn’t mean to bring up but brought up anyway. I’m silly like that.
If Thomas got mad at Stepney for interrupting his branch line’s timetable once...
...How would he feel about having a whole train that has to do everything in its power to NOT interrupt the usual services?
In notes of Ffarquhar’s layout, the land cruise enthusaist train is noted to be scheduled in-between regular services, and mustn’t disrupt traffic. This is implied to be more difficult than it ought to be, partially because rail enthusiasts are rail enthusiasts and getting them back into the coaches is a miserable experience for the station’s secretary, and partially due to shunting arrangements at Ffarquhar that are absolutely mind-boggling (a document I wrote up of Ffarquhar’s timetable, according to the Awdry DVD, can be found here!).
The moment the Bloomer, or whoever the enthusiasts’ engine happens to be, arrives, he has to square his fancy saloon coaches away to make room for Thomas, Annie and Clarabel’s next down service. So, imagine for me, what happens when Bloomer indulges the enthusiasts’ interest in him at the platform for a little too long, only for Thomas with his grumpy little face to huff into the station yard and start angrily shouting at Bloomer to Get Out Of His Way Or Else The Fat Controller Will Find Out And You Will Regret That.
Now, we of course know little of Bloomer, but I’ve always thought of him not quite as an old grandpa, but rather a showman who takes a lot of pride in his theatrics on a railway filled mainly of engines still in regular service. Bloomer doesn’t get to appear publicly very often, but when he does, he’s going to make it worthwhile. He’s going to bask in the spotlight for as long as he can, impressing everyone who is lucky enough to draw eyes on him, and he’s certainly no pushover. If Bloomer wants to spend time talking to the enthusiasts about his past life (though he has to keep SOME secrets, of course. Part of the act, a bit of mystery is always fun), then he’s going to spend as much time as he can doing just that -- which he always does.
This drives Thomas insane. A WHOLE TRAIN THAT COULD THROW ALL OF HIS TIMETABLE, ALL THAT HE’S WORKED FOR, OUT THE WINDOW SO EASILY? WHAT. The poor guy. He and Bloomer would be the ultimate enemies, egomanaics for different reasons that will forever butt heads while the other Ffarquhar engines would wish they’d just shut up for two seconds.
He cheerfully and dutifully shunts Annie and Clarabel along from the carriage shed... then he sees Bloomer’s ugly mug taking up the platform. “YOU,” Thomas hissed, grounding to a halt, “YOU’RE not supposed to be here.” “Ah,” Bloomer smiled sweetly, “Thomas my boy, I most certainly belong here. It’s part of my act for me to be right here, right now. ‘Tis merely part of my script.” “Right now!?” scoffed Thomas, as Annie and Clarabel chattered quietly behind, “Right now, you and your ugly great houses on wheels are meant to be by the cattle dock! Never mind your ‘act’, my Timetable is much more important! You always talk such nonsense.” “And you always talk ever so much, yet say very little,” mused Bloomer, “A script would do you well, improv is clearly not your strong suit, Thomas my darling. For such a famous little engine, you never seem to respect the life of a shining star. What a waste, what a waste. We Enthusiast Engines have far more than timetables to worry about, boy; we have fans to please.” Thomas wanted to retort, but was interrupted by a shrill, long blast of Bloomer’s whistle. “I hope you all enjoyed the first part of the show!” Bloomer called to his passengers, as he began to back away, “We shall return after our intermission, and I have no doubt you shall all be there to witness the Grand Finale of today’s display! Make sure to be there at 6 o’clock sharp. After all, Time’s Time.” Bloomer winked in Thomas’s direction. Thomas’s face was redder than Bloomer’s paint, and he had practically vanished behind a thick cloud of steam. “What a horrid engine!” he grumbled to Annie and Clarabel when he finally made it to the platform, “He thinks the whole railway revolves about him, and expects everyone to work at HIS pace! The shame of it, the shame of it...” Annie and Clarabel really thought it all rather ironic.
This is all made funnier by the fact that once the enthusiasts’ train leaves Ffarquhar for the junction, it crosses Thomas with Annie and Clarabel going up the line at Elsbridge. Thomas has yet another chance to start bickering with Bloomer, especially when the Ffarquhar secretary likely couldn’t get the stragglers into Bloomer’s coaches in time (and Bloomer of course didn’t help her one bit). Their next rowl shall be exciting stuff for all involved -- except Annie and Clarabel, who have tried reasoning with Thomas the whole time, but haven’t quite been able to get through to their stubborn engine.
Now, realistically, I had planned to do a bit more talking rather than writing a whole scene. However, much like Thomas, improv isn’t my strong suit, and I hadn’t at first planned for this to be a Bloomer discussion, and perhaps this has gone on for long enough. Whoops!
What have we learnt today? Well, personally, I’ve learnt that I probably need to get the hang of writing these posts. This probably hasn’t worked out super well. Those of you who are more familar with this site are probably cringing so hard at me right now, and you’re entirely right to do so. For shame, me, for shame...
Usually, I like to round these off with a nice, poetic conclusion about what we’ve discussed today... but really I didn’t know that this post was going in the direction it went into. I mainly wrote this to get my foot in the door and finally post something of substance here. Apparently my second to most popular post here is talking about how fucking funny Terence the Tractor here. Can we change that please? Terence the Tractor is funny but... I can do better than that...
Well, no, no I can’t.
...
You know, I meant to start using my typing quirks again at the end of the post.
But now we’re here, and it doesn’t feel right for me to start using them.
...
I’m doing an awful job at ending this.
...
Maybe Terence the Tractor IS the best I can do.
Hmm.