In the 1950s much of Britain’s railway rolling stock was pre-war and decidedly old-fashioned. I would regularly travel by train, either with my sister, or grandmother, or even alone. The train windows were impressive. They were set into the doors, and could slide up and down. A large leather belt hung from the middle of them at the bottom. You would pull this out a little to release the window, and then lower the wood-framed window by the desired amount, securing it in its new position by fitting one of the holes in the leather belt over a smooth metal stud, there for the purpose. The windows could be pulled all the way closed or open, or to about 6 intermediate positions.
I remember once on a hot day traveling from Scarborough being quite irritated when the two other people in my carriage suddenly pulled the window from open to closed without asking for my opinion. I was still indignant as the train pulled into a tunnel, sending clouds of sooty smoke past the window, but not into the carriage. As it cleared the tunnel, one of the people who’d closed the window pulled on the leather belt to re-open it. Obviously they knew the line well, and knew when to close the window.