The Musgrave Collection in Eastbourne is a true one-off, just like its owner, 94 year old George Musgrave. Who is this man and why does he have his own museum, you say? Well, it’s a long story.

To start at the very beginning, the first exhibit is dedicated to The Dad I Never Knew – George’s father who died in WWI when George was only two years old. Next, fast forward to the 1950s with display cases full of plastic moulds, scenery and miniscule model figures that George designed for commercial toy manufacturers in the 50s and 60s. The “Swoppets” that he designed for Herald Miniatures are fabulous things – tiny cowboys and Indians run amok along the shelves, so animated in appearance that I bet they come alive at night and continue their battles. The original models, painstakingly created from wire and Plasticine show that this is a man with a creative mind, a steady hand and an eye for detail.

After this, in a bit of a curatorial non-sequitur, are miscellaneous paintings of people, animals and Patcham Windmill near Brighton where George lived and exhibited until it was subject to a compulsory purchase order. Next, stretching right to the back of the gallery are forty paintings of St Paul - a personal project that took up decades of his life and many research trips to the Middle East and beyond.

I wasn’t even halfway round at this point but already had the measure of the Musgrave Collection - expect the unexpected. Round the next corner there it was - some portraits of famous figures like Michael Grade and Roy Castle and an amazingly detailed, very clever diorama illustrating the four seasons, beside some display cases showing the history of communication and an impressive collection of Roman coins. As a final piece de resistance, his “Speck of Dust” painting, completed at the age of 91 shows the whole history of his colourful life in one go. Even here there are more surprises like his invention of the single yellow line, Olympic swim training and teaching in Africa. It’s a life that has spanned genres, continents and centuries. Blimey.

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Posted by Anne on August 23, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (2)

Just off the sea front in Bridlington you can walk around the corner from the promenade and experience a different type of amusement arcade. Old Penny Memories allows you step back in time and play coin-operated arcade games from the heyday of British seaside entertainment.

In the entrance you can pay a pound for a cup of twenty old one penny coins which operate the majority of games. It feels good to handle the big old pennies and you get a lot of play for your pound. The main room houses a variety of games and amusements such as early pinball machines, what the butler saw, penny pushing, shooting gallery, laughing policeman (well.. he may have been a sailor), strength tester and fruit machines. Pleasant sounds of bells and chimes ring out from 'pinball alley' in the next room.

Just like modern day arcades there is a buzz in the air, children and adults move around eager to play the next game while (sixties) pop music heightens the excitement. The difference, it seems, is that people here are not hypnotised by the flashing lights, computer imagery or prospect of winning money but genuinely excited by the inventive games.

It’s tempting to call Old Penny Memories a museum as the items have been collected, cared for and shared with the public. But this may be misleading as nothing is out of bounds and you are free to play on all the arcade games, each one unique in design, craftsmanship and entertainment.

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Posted by Maraid on August 09, 2009 | Permalink

The very mention of a giant museum can cause confusion. Ironically, the Giant Angus MacAskill Museum in Dunvegan on the Isle of Skye is very small, but its contents are huge. Set in a restored Highland croft, the museum shows off the greatness of Angus MacAskill, who was born in 1825 and grew to a mighty 7’9” tall. In 1981 he was recorded in the Guinness Book of Records as the tallest “true giant” – one without underlying medical conditions or notable deformities – who ever lived.

A life-size statue of him greets visitors as they enter, towering in the corner beside his tiny companion, Tom Thumb. At this point, all sense of proportion goes out of the window. Everything in here is huge – a giant chair, an enormous jumper, socks the size of fisherman’s waders and a replica of the giant coffin that they carried him off in. It’s only when you place something actual size near the exhibits that you get a sense of how gigantic he actually was.

Born in Berneray in the Western Isles in 1825 Angus MacAskill was a small baby. At the time doctors didn’t think he would survive. But oh boy, he proved them wrong with no real indication of why he became so large. The only clue to his mighty size was a daily dish of crowdie (oatmeal and cream) after his meal. Even regular nips of whisky and a toke on his pipe didn’t stunt his growth.

Angus’s stay in Scotland was short-lived due to the Highland Clearances, and his family emigrated to Nova Scotia when he was 6 years old. They settled in Cape Breton and he worked the land in the small farming community of St Ann’s where he became known as Gille More (or ‘Big Boy’).

Tall stories of his strength and kindness have been passed down from generation to generation and were collected in the book The Cape Breton Giant by Peter Gillis. True to form he was a gentle giant, helping those who needed it and refusing frequent offers of a fight from those too foolhardy to think about what they were getting into. The story goes that when one man wouldn’t take no for an answer Angus suggested they shake on it. One handshake from MacAskill drew blood from the man’s fingers and he quickly got the message.

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Posted by Anne on August 02, 2009 | Permalink | Comments (2)