Ivor the Engine

Ivor the Engine is one of those gentle treasures of British children’s television - an unassuming little series that puffed its way into the nation’s heart with a soft chuff, a tootle on the whistle, and an unmistakably Welsh lilt. Created by Oliver Postgate and Peter Firmin, the same brilliant duo behind Bagpuss and The Clangers, Ivor the Engine first appeared on television in black and white in 1959, and was later revived in glorious green and red colour in the 1970s. It remains, to this day, one of the most charming slices of storytelling ever to chug across our screens.

Set “in the top left-hand corner of Wales,” Ivor lives in the small town of Llaniog and works on the Merioneth and Llantisilly Railway Traction Company Limited - a fictional railway line where time runs at its own pace and nothing ever seems rushed. Ivor is, rather unusually, a small green steam engine with a soul. He doesn’t speak exactly, but he whistles, puffs, and splutters in a way that leaves you in no doubt about what he’s feeling. He wants to sing in the choir. He has dreams. He’s shy, loyal, and just the tiniest bit mischievous. You can’t help but reeeeeally love him.

Ivor’s driver is Jones the Steam, a kind, slightly baffled man with a thick Welsh accent and a gentle disposition. He’s often found scratching his head as Ivor embarks on yet another quiet adventure. Along the way, they’re joined by a delightful cast of characters: Dai Station, the railway’s manager; Evans the Song, who runs the choir; and Mrs. Porty, who rides about in a vintage car with her cat and a look of dignified bemusement.

The brilliance of Ivor the Engine lies in its simplicity. The stories are wonderfully small-scale - rescuing a lost sheep, helping the choir rehearse, or delivering goods across misty hills. There are no villains, no car chases, no high drama - just kindness, curiosity, and a deep affection for community and countryside. It’s storytelling in its most wholesome form, with a strong undercurrent of gentle humour and a deep sense of place.

Visually, it’s distinctively lo-fi and all the better for it. The characters are drawn in thick lines on cardboard cutouts, animated in stop-motion, with Postgate himself narrating in that calm, ever-so-slightly conspiratorial voice. It feels handmade, homely - like something a kindly uncle might cobble together in his shed. That, of course, was the magic of Smallfilms, the tiny studio Postgate and Firmin ran out of a converted cowshed in Kent.

There’s something a lil bit subversive about Ivor, too. A steam engine that wants to join a choir? A world where machinery has feelings and humans don’t bat an eyelid? It’s beautifully absurd, yet treated with such warmth and sincerity that it all feels perfectly reasonable - hmmm...

In a world that often moves too fast, Ivor the Engine is a lovely reminder that stories don’t need bells, whistles, or explosions to leave a mark. Sometimes, all you need is a little engine, a bit of steam, and a song in your heart!!!