Tunnock’s dominate the town of Uddingston, 7 miles south-east of Glasgow. For over 100 years the family firm has been pumping out their trademark Tea Cakes, Caramel Wafers and other delights for the pleasure of Scotland’s rotten-toothed populace. Tunnock’s products are such a part of Scottish heritage that they’ve followed ex-patriots round the world, winning them the sort of global following that most brands would kill for.

Established in 1890 by Thomas Tunnock, their products haven't changed much over the years, with their distinctive sunburst packaging and slightly wonky lettering. In a world that's constantly changing, there's something very reassuring about that. Traditionally, they’re a bit of an old-person’s snack, but that association with a trip to your granny's means that from an early age each bite of Tunnock’s is imbued with more than just sugary satisfaction. Thanks to this they have a loyal, almost cult following.

In Uddingston, their “Daylight” bakeries loom large on one side of the main street, while the Tunnock’s Tea Rooms nestle among a row of shops on the other. The Tea Rooms are a delight for any Tunnock’s lover, or indeed anyone with a sweet tooth. As well as a range of rare Tunnock’s biscuits (Wafer Crème, Coconut Meringue, Florida Wafer – all delicious) there are spectacular cakes, pies and loaves. At the back there is a café, not the most attractive of places, but still a cheap and cheerful place to refuel.

While you eat/shop, there are constant reminders of the glory of Tunnock’s. The staff have a caramel wafer shaped patch sewn onto their aprons, the counter is covered in miniature Tunnock’s vans, the walls lined with old adverts and then there are the window displays – oh boy, the window displays. Inhabiting the windows is a family of anthropomorphic creatures with bodies made from Caramel Logs, Tea Cakes and other Tunnock's paraphernalia. They are fantastically bizarre - a sign of genius, or madness. It's hard to tell which.

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Posted by Anne on January 22, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (7)

Britain is littered with bizarre features that would never have existed were it not for heavy capital investment in the defence of the Realm. Whilst schools and hospitals compete against each other - and private business - for public funding, one must question whether Britain’s military spending is fully justified. During the current illegal and counter-productive conflict, I have often momentarily thought not - until astonishing legacies of military activity have presented themselves before me. These revelations have been numerous, and come always without disappointment.

The Gosport peninsula, a triangular area of land enclosing the western side of Portsmouth Harbour, is particularly rich in such things. Impressive derelict forts that have never seen action, a large aircraft hangar with no runways, old town ramparts, a ‘secret’ military intelligence school, a submarine escape training water-tower and a vast Georgian military hospital. These are just a few of the wonders on offer. All can be enjoyed by the casual onlooker more for the queries that they pose than any assurances that they might deliver.

Many military structures have a highly attractive pointlessness. They are neither useful nor decorative. This obviously provides great interest and value to the aesthete. The structure pictured here, which I have taken the liberty of fondly naming the ‘Browndown Mushroom’, is a perfect example. A brutal concrete fabrication, some twenty-five feet tall, it stands isolated on the extensive shingle beach that is Browndown Military Training Area. Perhaps some kind of vent, the mushroom’s gills are of steel mesh - and it is definitely not a platform. Its original purpose a total mystery, this entity has the power to perplex, impress and amuse all at once. Whilst delighting in such things, one can be absolutely satisfied that corpulent military spending should never be challenged.

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Posted by David P on January 16, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (8)

“It’s bigger than you think” proclaims the sign as you enter the Air Defence Radar Museum at RAF Neatishead in Norfolk. And indeed it is. We stopped by for a quick visit and came out two hours later. It turns out there's a lot to know about radar, and the museum staff (ex-RAF to a man) are only too glad to help you learn.

The museum traces the history of radar from early experiments like the sound mirrors still standing on the Kent coast, through Chain Home (the ring of coastal radar stations built by the British before and during World War II) to today's more sophisticated systems. RAF Neatishead is significant for radar enthusiasts (of which there are many) because it was home to the first secret defence system, built in 1941. It continued as a Sector Operations centre until 1993, protecting Britain through the nuclear threat of the Cold War.

The equipment used during World War II seems amazingly primitive. The Plotting Room (the room where they push things around with those big rake-type things) is staffed by dummy WAAFs (Women's Auxiliary Air Force). One thing the museum makes clear is women’s contribution to this end of the war effort. While the men were out fighting the women did their bit managing the information coming in over radar – plane positions, weather conditions. They counted them all out and counted fewer back. The museum shows complicated systems of charts, boards and obscure terminology. It must have been a demanding, relentless line of work.

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Posted by Anne on January 06, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (0)