The Bakelite Museum in Williton, Somerset is a museum of few words. At the entrance, a small sign introduces Bakelite "The material of a thousand uses". Invented by Dr Leo Baekeland in 1907 Bakelite was the world’s first, and most successful synthetic plastic, in continuous production ever since. If you think it's confined to old brown radios, think again. The museum, set over two floors in a 17th Century watermill is jam packed with Bakelite products of all shapes, sizes and colours.

Stepping in the door is like walking into a 1950s home. There are cookers, toasters, washing machines, and irons interspersed with smaller items like banks, clocks and egg cups. It is bright and resilient, in the spirit of the times. If the museum had ended here I would have gone home happy, but there's more. Next, a room of televisions, gramophones, radios and telephones is like a mini Design Museum. Plus a colourful display of elegant bowls and vases made from Bandalasta (also known as LingaLonga), a coloured, marbled variation of Bakelite which first saw light in 1925.

Up the steep stairs and into a little side room where I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. This is the colourful world of Bakelite egg cups, napkin rings and salt and pepper shakers, all perfectly lined up on curvaceous shelves. I shudder to think what the dusting overhead is like, but it looks wonderful.

From there you go onto hairdryers, electric heaters, hoovers and the last room with a full set of Bakelite teeth, picnic sets and the piece de resistance, a Bakelite coffin. As it was famous for its heat-resistant properties this didn't go too well at cremations and the product never took off. It is one of the many highly collectible items on show.

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Posted by Anne on April 27, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (1)

Pity the poor Kincardine Bridge. Long since overshadowed by the more famous Forth Road and Rail Bridges, a fourth Forth crossing is about to cock its snook once and for all. For those who cross it regularly it’s not a happy place, full of traffic snarl-ups, but on a clearer day it’s a majestic part of the Scottish road network.

When it was built in 1936 it was the world's longest single span bridge as well as the first road bridge across the Firth of Forth. Built by renowned engineering firm Sir Alexander Gibb and Partners and manufactured by the Cleveland Bridge and Engineering Co., it’s a solid piece of work. Unlike its grander neighbours you don't see it from miles away, but the closer you get the better it looks. It comes into its own as soon as you start to cross. The silver art deco-style lampposts have a real elegance and shine like beacons on a sunny day. Before you know it you’re passing through the central concrete arch where the mottoes of the neighbouring counties of Clackmannan, Stirling and Fife are carved in Portland Stone. It's all rather grand.

Until 1988 a huge portcullis operated inside this gate so that the bridge could be closed to traffic. When it closed the motto of Clackmannan, "Look aboot ye" was spelt out. Good advice for anyone waiting there as the view either way along the river is rather nice. Once the barrier was in place the centre span was able to swing round to let shipping pass. Along with the nearby Silver Link Roadhouse (now a bathroom showroom) it’s a relic of a more stately era of road transportation - the motoring boom of the 1930s. Constant traffic has taken its toll so when the new crossing opens, the bridge, given Category A-listed status by Historic Scotland will be closed for 18 months for a well-deserved upgrade. Enjoy it while you can.

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Posted by Anne on April 06, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (2)

Footdee (pronounced "Fittie") is a small fishing village near Aberdeen harbour. From the beach it’s easy to miss but turn a corner and you're in a delightful square full of dinky little houses gathered round a communal green. Round the outside of the square the buildings are regular - neat rows of granite cottages and townhouses but round the inside they're anything but with shacks, sheds and outhouses jumbled with washing lines, plants, flowers and even a church.

The wonderful thing about Footdee is the randomness of these buildings. They're pretty puzzling. It's hard to tell if they're outhouses, or holiday homes or perhaps mansions for a race of tiny seafaring people. No two are the same and the styles range from miniatures houses with well-kept gardens to ramshackle structures made of found materials that look like only luck is holding them up. The only place I've seen anything similar is at Dungeness. In the details there are lots of seafaring accoutrements - model boats, ships-in-bottles and glass fishing weights. Hanging on one shack, a lifebelt from the Thermopylae, the world’s fastest sailing boat built in 1868 by the Aberdeen White Star Line, is a nod to local nautical heritage.

There are three squares altogether. North and South Squares were designed in the early 19th century by Aberdeen City architect John Smith who also designed Balmoral Castle. Pilot Square, built to a better standard for pilots of the harbour boats was added later. Looking closely, there are some clever design features - the houses are low and face inward to shelter from the sea, the pitched roofs keep the rain off and even the chimney pots are specially designed to keep seagulls away. As the cottages were so small, they were sold with space for an outhouse opposite, which explains the more idiosyncratic architectural elements. For fisherfolk this would be somewhere to keep your nets and other necessary equipment.

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Posted by Anne on February 23, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (2)

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)

“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)

From the outside, this doesn't look like a place of worship. The small, corrugated iron hut is pretty anonymous but the crucifix on the door marks it as special. Inside the drab exterior there is an ornate world of wonder. Simple wooden pews face a beautifully decorated altar. There are religious statues on both sides and numerous brightly-coloured ornaments. If you look closely you can see that they’re hand-made, the best example being the Blue Peter-style chandelier made from tinsel and coathangers, still going strong after 60 years service.

This chapel was built by Ukrainian prisoners of war who were sent here in 1947. Between 420 and 450 men were imprisoned in Rimini and sent to Scotland instead of being sent home where they would have been tried as traitors and faced almost certain death. They arrived in Glasgow wearing German uniforms, and came to Happendon Lodge near Motherwell, then Carstairs before landing up in the camp at Hallmuir, 3 miles outside Lockerbie in the Scottish Borders.

90% of the men were farmers so the Ministry of Agriculture gave them jobs on the local land. One man, Mr Fallat, bought some fruit seeds from Italy and planted an orchard that still stands to this day. Inside the church they were just as creative. The landowner, Sir John Buchanan Jardine gave them this small hut and after humble beginnings they began to decorate it as a home from home. On the high altar is a model of their local Ukranian cathedral, carved with a pen knife. It was made from memory as the Russians destroyed the real one. The candlesticks beside it are made from shell casings and the standards surrounding the arch from a tent brought over from Rimini. For a place decorated in a time of austerity it's wonderfully cheerful.

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Posted by Anne on November 21, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (2)

Storybook Glen is a fairytale paradise situated 6 miles west of Aberdeen. Started in the 1980s after the owner saw something similar in Canada it's a childhood time capsule. The concept is pretty simple - it's a park full of statues of storybook characters. They run the gamut from classic to modern - from Wee Willie Winkie to Tinky Winky. Over 28 acres there are more than 100 characters scattered randomly throughout the park in a way that turns an amble into a journey of adventure. Some of the statues are in plain view, others are hidden along secret pathways so you never know who is going to loom at you out of a bush.

Some of the characters are instantly recognisable. Miss Muffet who was sitting on her tuffet eating her curds and whey is a no brainer. Others take a bit more thought - the lady lurking in the undergrowth brandishing a cleaver turns out to be the story of Three Blind Mice. A select few I'd never heard of at all, like Handy Pandy, the jack-a-dandy who loves plum cake and sugar candy. Luckily many of the tales are signposted and there's a map for the rest.

At a quick glance two themes emerge: violence and pies, or both in the tableau that is Who Killed Cock Robin. Unaccompanied children get themselves into all kinds of scrapes - Hansel and Gretel forced out by their wicked stepmother are almost eaten alive; Little Tommy Tucker is forced to sing for his supper; Jack Be Nimble burns himself jumping over the candlestick. And those are the lucky ones - The Old Woman Who Lives in a Shoe is there giving some poor child a sound beating. In contrast, the modern day figures stand out by their blandness - Wallace and Gromit are Fireman Sam are so bloody helpful by comparison.

Many of the exhibits are pretty shonky, giving them comedy value. Thomas the Tank Engine appears to be wearing make-up (I always had my suspicions), Snoopy is completely unrecognisable. The trolls in Trollworld seem like an avuncular lot while the Pixies in Pixie Land look like they could do you some serious harm. Others have an otherworldly beauty like Mary, Mary Quite Contrary or Little Red Riding Hood, while the rest are plain surreal like the giant chicks hatching from giant egg cups on the way to the large and impressive fairytale castle.

Continue reading "Storybook Glen, Maryculter" »

Posted by Anne on October 29, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (3)

Who'd have thought Europe's oldest living thing is biding its time in a Perthshire churchyard? Driving along a back road in the middle of nowhere the brown (i.e. tourist) signs to Fortingall Yew were so intriguing I had to have a look. They direct you towards a church and as you enter the gates of the churchyard words are written out on the path. "Up ahead stands Fortingall's oldest resident, a 5000 year old yew tree", "Imagine those who have passed this way before". The path takes you alongside a fence and inside the fence is the Fortingall Yew, estimated to be between 2000 and 5000 years old.

The trunk is substantial enough but pegs on the ground mark the size the yew would have been if it hadn't been chipped away over the years. Measured at 16 metres, or 52 feet in girth in 1769, chunks of the original were removed as souvenirs until an arch was formed which funeral processions passed through. Ironically the yew's repuation at the "tree of eternity" hastened its downfall until a fence was put in place to protect what was left. As a precautionary measure some branches were recently removed by the Forestry Commission to be cloned in the same lab as Doly the Sheep. They will then be planted in woods around the country.

Marketed as "Big Tree Country", Perthshire also boasts the world's largest hedge and widest conifer in Britain, plus the Dunkeld Larch (250 years old, but one of the first of its type planted in Scotland) and the Shakesperean Birnam Oak (the last remaining tree in the wood made famous by Macbeth). A plaque notes that the tree was designated as one of Britain's 50 Greatest Trees in 2002.

Beside the tree, Fortingall itself is an interesting little place. Its other claim to fame is as the home of Pontius Pilate, although the evidence for that is a bit scant. If you visit the yew, the adjoining church is quite pretty, and the neighbouring Fortingall Hotel provides parking and refreshments.

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Posted by Anne on October 10, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Millport is the only town on the island of Great Cumbrae, which sits one and a half miles off the coast of north Ayrshire. Alongside other towns like its island neighbour Rothesay it used to be a popular destination for holidaymakers coming "doon the watter" on paddle steamers from Glasgow. Today, its popularity has waned but its charm has not and it's still a great place for a day out. At first glance there isn't a lot to do but on closer inspection there are lots of things to make a visit memorable. One of the advantages of its location means there's been less pressure to change. What's there may be old-fashioned but it's the sort of holiday fun that has worked for generations.

To get there, take the ferry from Largs. The crossing only takes 10 minutes. Once you arrive, the traditional way to see Millport is by bike. It's only 11 miles round and the road is flat so it's a great place to cycle. The road from the slip to the harbour passes two of Millport's famous novelty rocks. The first, Lion Rock really does look like a crouching lion so it's pretty easy to spot. The Millport website explains:

Houllan Keipel Dyke or lion rock as it is now known was supposedly made by the bad elves. According to a traditional rhyme the good elves were making a bridge to the mainland at Deil’s dyke and so the bad elves decided to copy them. When they eventually realised that they couldn’t manage, in frustration they kicked the holes now seen in the bottom of the rock making the shape we now know as lion rock. The shape of the lion is apparently frightening to elves and this is why to this day you never see elves on the East of the island, only on the Fintry bay side.

Queen Victoria Rock further along on the same side is harder to spot the first time but once you catch it from the right angle you can't miss her.

With that excitement over it's time for some refreshment and the best place to go is The Ritz Cafe - a 1960s dayglo formica heaven, run by the Giorgetti family since 1908. Here you can enjoy toasties, burgers and hot peas with a Knickerbocker Glory chaser. The ice cream is home made and the specials come topped with a little Italian flag. At time of writing, it's for sale so who knows what's in store. Hopefully some new owners who will appreciate this little gem.

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Posted by Anne on September 09, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (3)

Established in 1879, Kirkcudbright’s Stewartry Museum is full of local things for local people. In contrast to many Victorian museums this isn’t the collection of Lord So-and-So who travelled the globe plundering other cultures, it’s a charming collection of things found in and around the Stewartry, which is Kirkcudbright and the surrounding local area. Ironically, as these days other cultures are often better known than our own it ends up feeling fantastically exotic.

On the ground floor, tidily corralled into glass cases, there are various local history exhibits. They range from the organised to the fairly random in a way that makes browsing a pleasantly serendipitous experience. There are axe-heads, butter churns, fob watches and curiously an old packet of Wills’ woodbines “found in 1974 under the floorboards of a shop in St Cuthbert St”. At some points it’s less like a museum, more like the shop out of Bagpuss.

Its killer exhibit is the “Siller Gun" a shooting trophy presented to the town by James VI (later James 1st of England) in 1587 - the year before the Spanish Armada. It is still used today as the prize in shooting competitions organised by the Incorporated Trades of Kirkcudbright. Alongside, there is a more modern range of trophies, for cheese-making no less. The world needs prize-winning cheese, after all.

Upstairs on the balcony there is a natural history collection that must have kept the local taxidermists busy for years. There are birds (and birds’ eggs), animals, butterflies, insects and fish. There's something so peaceful and reassuring about stuffed things in glass cases and here they are beautifully arranged and labelled. The copperplate handwriting is an exhibit in itself and the names read like poetry - Linnet, Tree pipit, Nightjar, Stone chat.

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Posted by Anne on August 05, 2007 | Permalink

Of all the seaside towns in all the world, the biggest rock shop has to be in one of them, and it’s Great Yarmouth. It’s only fitting that a resort so unashamed of its dedication to traditional leisure and pleasure throws healthy eating to the wind and gets down to the serious business of getting rock right.

It’s not completely clear what kind of competition Docwras Rock Factory has for the “Biggest rock shop” title, although a couple of other establishments in Regent Road look like they’re thinking of having a go. Although the shopfront is relatively modest they’re not exactly hiding their light under a bushel with the enormous neon sign saying “The World’s Largest Rock Shop” running right down one side of the interior.

And indeed, it’s big. One side is taken up with lots and lots of rock. All shapes. All sizes. All flavours. There’s everything – banana, raspberry, coffee, strawberries and cream, aniseed, different types of mint, and they come with almost anything stamped through the middle. Towards the back, beside the novelty shapes like baby’s dummies and fried breakfasts made of rock there’s even a “naughty section” with some genuinely eye watering things to put in your mouth.

Docwras is a family run business that has been making rock and other sweets for over 100 years. They’re quite happy to share the expertise of their “rock and rollers”. At the other side of the shop, beside a huge pipe painted rock pink another huge sign says “See Yarmouth Rock Made Here” with a sign showing the time of the next demo. Sadly, I missed it. Seeing as they make 80,000 sticks of rock every week it shouldn’t be long before another one comes along.

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Posted by Anne on July 16, 2007 | Permalink

Ulverston is a lovely example of how the Lake District used to be. Compared to the bright lights of Kendal and Keswick it has twice the charm and half the tourists. When we arrived at 10am it was still stirring awake and didn't seem to make it far beyond dozing for the rest of the day. Traditional shops jostle with one or two designer boutiques and fancy delis but apart from Greggs and Boots it is relatively chain-store free, and thankfully there isn’t a cut price fleece in sight.

The town is full of unexpected fragments of a more genteel time. The Glaxo Social Club proclaims to be "Licensed in pursuance of act of parliament for public dancing, singing, music and other public entertainments of the like kind".
At the top of the high street there's an ancient chemist and opposite the Oxfam shop street spreads over 3 floors with the non-fiction laid out in Dewey Decimal order. Amazingly, the charity shops here still have something you might want to buy.

Round the corner just off King Street there's a museum devoted to Stan Laurel, Ulverston’s most famous son who was born here in 1890. It's a gloriously ramshackle affair. Not so much a museum as a collection of anything Laurel (or Hardy) related crammed into two rooms. In a third, complete with old red velvet cinema seats, you can watch Laurel & Hardy films in period style. When we arrive the proprietor, himself a bit of a character, is just nipping out for fish and chips so he leaves us to look around the place. Even the souvenirs are fantastically old school – thimbles, mugs in two different sizes and stylish leather bookmarks.

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Posted by Anne on June 10, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (2)

The B7076/B7078 is literally the road less travelled. Starting at Gretna near the Scottish-English border, the B7076 runs north before the B7078 takes over, carrying on to Lesmahagow 23 miles south of Glasgow. Or the other way round if you're heading south. We often take this route from Glasgow down to Dumfries & Galloway. There are definitely more scenic roads in the UK, but this is my favourite.

There's something about it that doesn't quite add up. It's very spacious for a B-road, with dual carriageway in parts and generous verges. Traffic thunders up and down the M74 which runs alongside, but this is usually empty. It feels like discovering a secret passageway in the British highway system. It has the feel of another country like America or Australia - somewhere that has great open roads but hardly any traffic.

Like Miss Haversham, it has an air of faded grandeur. This is what happens when roads themselves get overtaken. Until the 1990s this was the A74 which was the main route between Scotland and England. Thousands of vehicles thundered up and down this every day until it all got too much and the 6-lane behemoth, the M74 was built. I thought road classification had something to do with size as B-roads are usually little things, but in this case it just means no one cares anymore. It had been superceded and is now demoted, put down a peg or two thanks to its shiny new neighbour.

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Posted by Anne on May 27, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (1)

Childhood doesn’t belong in a museum - it’s noisy and fun, not quiet and organised. When you walk into the barn-like space that is Childhood Memories Toy Museum the overall effect is of a chaotic bedroom that’s had a last minute tidy up for visitors. The name really fits, as soon as you come in the door it’s like being a kid again, looking at a whole heap of exciting things and wondering what to play with first.

There’s obviously been an attempt to organise the huge number of toys on show. There are neat displays showing an impressive array of toy guns, robots, doll’s house furniture, Sooty & Sweep, ventriloquist’s dummies, Sindy dolls, Mr (and Mrs) Potato Heads, it goes on and on. But outside these collections toys spill everywhere. Bizarre board games such as On The Buses and I only arsked: The Bernard Breslaw Game balance on the display cases, and anything that can hang dangles from the ceiling.

In the middle of the floor large dolls and cuddly toys of all ages are corralled inside miniature vehicles. Some of the old ones would give you nightmares, their glass eyes staring at you in the dark. A teddy sits in a Sinclair C5, not actually a toy car even though it looks like one. And everything is equal here. Although many of the exhibits are highly collectable there’s no indication that that makes them more important. Classic toys are on show alongside tiny disposable things and famous names jostle with others that have been long forgotten. That makes sense – kids don’t discriminate either.

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Posted by Anne on April 15, 2007 | Permalink

Inside the Queen’s Museum of Art in Flushing Meadows Corona Park, New York City spreads out as far as the eye can see. NYC full size is dazzling enough, so who’d have thought a smaller version could be even more remarkable. Words become redundant here – it is massive but also miniscule. The panorama covers 9,335 square metres but to fit the whole New York area in the buildings, all 895,000 of them, are tiny. The Empire State Building is only 15 inches high but that’s not to do it down. The detail is mind-boggling. Every building, park and road is here with New York’s iconic landmarks and bridges perfectly modelled. In the distance there are bridges and gasometers, and even a little tiny plane taking off from La Guardia airport.

As if that wasn’t wonderful enough, when the panorama opened in 1964 for the World’s Fair in what was then the New York Pavilion, 1400 visitors a day were flown over the city in a little car which simulated a helicopter's eye view. These days viewing is from a walkway round the edge but it’s tempting to jump the rail and walk round it like a colossus, peering into windows and frightening the tiny inhabitants.

Conceived by Robert Moses, President of the World’s Fair Corporation, it took a team of 100 people from Raymond Lester & Associates 3 years to build. At the time of its creation it was the world’s largest scale model. The original contract called for less than one percent margin of error. Regular maintenance kept the panorama up to date until 1970 then there was a lull until 60,000 buildings were updated in 1992. Today it is still kept up to date, more or less. The twin towers of the World Trade Center are still standing here with a commemorative plaque nearby.

Continue reading "The Panorama of the City of New York, NYC" »

Posted by Anne on March 19, 2007 | Permalink

There's nothing unusual about finding a shrine in Bangkok, apart from this one. Instead of the usual Buddhist gods and spirits the Tuptim Shrine (also known as the Lingam Shrine) revolves around something that some might consider quite unholy. Tucked away at the back of the Nai Lert Park Hotel, ignominiously hiding under some trees by the tradesmens' entrance the brightly coloured scarves and offerings beckon you in. In the middle there is a traditional Thai spirit house festooned with gifts and garlands. Nothing unusual there. But on closer inspection the large black pillar beside the spirit house reveals a familiar but unusual shape - a giant penis. And indeed, all around the things that look like little sticks of wood and statues are all the same - loads and loads of penises; all shapes and sizes - fat ones, thin ones, tall ones, small ones, some that even have legs and a tail.

A sign explains:

The origins of Chao Mae Tuptim are obscure. It can only be recalled that a spirit house was built by Nai Lert for the spirit who was believed to reside in the large Sai (Ficus) tree.

The basic offerings are fragrant wreaths of snow-white jasmine flowers, incense sticks, pink and white lotus buds. Chao Mae Tuptim has received yet another, rather unconventional kind of gift, phallic in shape, both small and large, stylised and highly realistic. Over the years they have been brought by the thousands and today fill the area around the shrine. Confronted by the extraordinary display the shrine has automatically been concluded to be decidated to fertility.

The sheer numbers and variety are dazzling. Even the fence around the shrine is made out of little penises all standing to attention. Although the comedy value is high for some, the variety of gifts and offerings show that it's serious to those who come to pray for a family. Bangkok has a reputation for its sexual exploits but this is a peaceful antidote to some of the more in-your-face spectacles on offer in the city.

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Posted by Anne on February 25, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (2)

If you ever find yourself starting casting aspersions on the youth of today take a trip to Tam Shepherd's Trick Shop in Glasgow's Queen Street. You'll find that the youth of today are doing what they've always done - stocking up on whoopee cushions and itching powder.

Trading from the same city centre premises for over 100 years the shop is small but tightly packed with goodies. Tricks and novelties are crammed into the glass-topped counters, partially obscured by saucer-eyed children and excited adults. Wigs, masks and a selection of celebrity rubber faces are behind you. It’s not often you see Mick Jagger, Tony Blair and Maggie Thatcher all rubbing shoulders. At the far end frivolity gives over to serious magic with a range of books and videos to suit the Sunday party-piece and the dedicated pro.

Tam Shepherd’s has been entertaining kids, big and small, since the late 1800’s making it one of the oldest joke shops in the country, second only to Davenports in London. When Tam Shepherd (he really did exist) died, Lewis Davenport, who was a magician appearing at the Glasgow Empire, bought the shop from Tam's widow. The business is now owned by his grand-daughter Jean, who runs the shop with her husband Roy Walton, a world famous card magician, and their daughters.

The family run the place with a deadpan laissez-faire attitude. Requests for rubber biscuits and fake dog turds are actioned discretely. Advice on the best moustache for a comedy Frenchman is expertly dispensed. Occasionally exciting trinkets are unearthed from mysterious boxes under the counter. They have the air of people who have seen it all – no request too strange.

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Posted by Anne on February 02, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (2)

It goes against the crowd to stand still in New York's Grand Central Station but if you stop for a minute in the right spot you might find a little bit of magic. Underneath the main concourse, on the way to the historic Oyster Bar, there’s a special place known as The Whispering Gallery where the faintest murmur can be heard 40 feet away across the busy passageway.

There are no signs to the Whispering Gallery but look for a place where two walkways intersect, and a vaulted roof forms a shallow dome. Look up and admire the herringbone terra cotta tiles - designed by Rafael Guastavino and Son and found in some of New York's finest buildings. Take a friend or sweetheart and pick diagonal corners. Then turn your faces to the wall and start talking. It feels a little odd at first, but even though you’re a long way away you should hear every word.

The phenomenon is fairly common, usually found beneath domes or ellipsoid surfaces. Sound "telegraphs" along the line of the curve to reach the other side. Other famous examples are found in St Paul's Catherdal in London and St Peter's Basilica in Rome. I've tried things like this before and stood talking to myself like an idiot, but this one definitely works. It's a popular spot for marriage proposals - word has it jazz legend Charles Mingus proposed here. It can get busy so pick your moment carefully to avoid embarrasment. If he/she says yes, head straight to the Oyster Bar and celebrate in style. It also has Guastavino ceilings so be careful where you whisper your sweet nothings if you don't want the whole place to hear.

Continue reading "The Whispering Gallery, New York, NY" »

Posted by Anne on December 06, 2006 | Permalink

Seeing the Apollo Pavilion today, it’s hard to imagine how it ever seemed like a good idea. Designed by artist Victor Pasmore and built between 1963 and 1970 in Peterlee, a new town in County Durham, it’s an abstract concrete er, thing - half architecture, half sculpture. At eighty-two feet wide, it's a hulking great brute, spectacularly out-of-scale to everything around it. It’s not so much ugly as inappropriate. Loathed by many, but loved by a dedicated few, it is at once a symbol of the idealism of modernism and the new town movement, and the epitome of where it went horribly wrong.

When Peterlee was founded in 1948, Modernist hero Berthold Lubetkin was brought in as master planner but when his proposals for high-rise living proved unsuitable for mining terrain he left, disillusioned, and become a farmer. Abstract artist Victor Pasmore who was then Master of Painting at Kings College in Newcastle-upon-Tyne stepped into the breach. He designed “The Pivvy” as it's known locally as a bridge and focal point in a problematic area of the Sunny Blunts housing estate where a lake divides the housing estate and the road. Aspirations were high, and it was named The Apollo Pavilion after the moon mission which was reaching for the stars around the same time

Pasmore described it as 'an architecture and sculpture of purely abstract form through which to walk, in which to linger and on which to play, a free and anonymous monument which, because of its independence, can lift the activity and psychology of an urban housing community on to a universal plane.’ Well, he was half-right. People lingered and played alright, but not in a good way. Almost immediately it became a haven for vandals and teeny-tipplers. To add insult to injury, a local government spat ensued when the Peterlee Development Corporation that commissioned the £33,000 work was wound up and the Easington District Council which inherited it refused to touch it with a bargepole, or more usefully a paintbrush.

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Posted by Anne on November 08, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (3)

Opened in 1951, the Tyne Cycle & Pedestrian Tunnels join the communities of Howdon and Jarrow on the north and south banks of the river Tyne. At their peak 20,000 people travelled 900 ft (274 m) through them each day to get to work in the nearby shipyards. While pedestrian river tunnels are nothing new this was the first with a purpose-built cycle tunnel - still in regular use today as it forms part of the C2C cycle route running from coast to coast across the north of England.

Above ground at each end there is a dinky red-brick rotunda, quiet apart from the faint whirr and clank of machinery. Going in is like entering a station, but with no ticket office or trains. It's a slightly mysterious affair, just two escalators marked Up and Down that descend, seemingly, into the bowels of the earth. The directions need to be marked because they aren't moving. As you approach, a speed ray regulator powers the one you need into life. Legend has it the more people on them the faster they go although as it was quiet for our visit we didn’t get a chance to test this.

When they were built, they were the longest single-rise escalators in the world at 60m (approx 200 feet). Today they are still the longest wooden ones in the world, and a rarity now that wooden escalators such as those in the London Underground have been phased out. Built by Waygood-Otis, they have a solid charm, each of the 306 steps numbered and stamped, and they make a fantastic noise - a sort of gentle clank. The journey up or down feels like travelling in style.

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Posted by Anne on October 22, 2006 | Permalink

For some buses are an unnecessary evil – late, overcrowded and filthy, but for others they’re a way of life. The bus enthusiasts of Glasgow have taken over the former Bridgeton Bus Garage and turned it into the Glasgow Vintage Vehicle Trust. Make your way inside the huge doors to find a shed full of beautiful old buses – all shapes and sizes, and an overflow area out the back for vintage fire engines, more buses and a rather bizarre home-made Glasgow rickshaw consisting of a sofa with two bikes stuck to the front.

Taking a look round it’s almost impossible not to be transported back to your youth, wherever and whenever that was. Although the Routemaster has become the megastar of the bygone bus world it’s the green and orange Glasgow Corporation double deckers that take me back. The length and breadth of Britain is represented with buses from Aberdeen, Edinburgh, Blackpool, London and further afield. If you’re lucky you might get a chance to get on board and sit in the driver’s seat. Who can resist a shot at the big wheel?

For visitors who are pretty vintage themselves the buses of their youth might be some of the beautifully restored old coaches – wonderful colours, beautiful logos and the odd crank handle on the front. For all the buses that have been brought back to life there are plenty that have seen better days, waiting for a little TLC.

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Posted by Anne on October 14, 2006 | Permalink

A visit to the Galloway Hydros Visitor Centre is a joy in 3 parts. Firstly, the beautiful art deco power station is a wonder to behold, all creamy and geometric against the Galloway countryside. Inside the displays are simple but effective. One room is full of papers, plans and photos showing the early days of the power plant – its construction in the 1930s is as remarkable at the fact that it's still going today, pretty much unchanged. There is an instructive video, not all that interesting to be honest, and for the younger members of any party who may not find hydro-electricity all that enthralling there is a room with safety-based computer games and Lego.

Hang around for the tour which takes you behind the locked doors of the control room and the turbine hall. The control room is full of huge machines that look like they might be props from some 1950s sci-fi movie. You know the type – lots of dials and switches and lights blinking on and off. One dial is labelled “Slow/Fast” which doesn’t seem very scientific. Still, it's unfair to poke fun at these wonderful contraptions. When this was set up it was years ahead of its time – the first power station to be operated by remote control through a telephonic system. Next stop the turbine hall – a beautiful high-windowed room with three large turbines in a fetching shade of industrial green. Only one was whirring away when we were there but it was still deafening.

With you on your journey is an informative guide (a lovely old man in our case) who explains how hydro-electric power works, and how the Galloway Hydros (6 in all) came together. In the 1920s the network was the ambitious brainchild of two local chaps, Major Wellwood Maxwell and Captain Scott Elliot. It took the advent of the National Grid in 1926 to make the project (involving sophisticated civil engineering and a good deal of mess) economically viable. It's certainly impressive, and well-considered - the same water passes through all 5 power stations, coming out as clean as when it went in, and a bonus of hydro-electricity is that it's easy to start and stop making it useful for sudden surges in demand. Electricity generated here often contributes to the nation's post-Corrie cuppa.

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Posted by Anne on October 04, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (3)

A dingy campsite in a forlorn corner of south-west Scotland isn't the sort of place you'd expect to find immortalised in film, but then, The Wicker Man is no ordinary movie. The bizarre tale of pagan rites in a backward Scottish island hit the screens in 1973 and was promptly forgotten, but now its sinister bent, great cast and a groovy soundtrack put it right up there as one of the great cult movies. So much so that it has spawned a Hollywod remake, although the less said about that the better.

The original is set in Summerisle, a fictional island in the north of Scotland, but a tight shooting schedule meant the weather up north would have been too severe in October. Dumfries and Galloway had to make do. Not that it was exactly warm - the cast had to suck ice cubes to stop their breath showing in the supposed "summer" scenes. It's certainly not the place to be wandering around in your nightshirt, even beside a roaring fire.

Past the caravans of Burrowhead Holiday Village near Isle of Whithorn on the edge of the Irish Sea, the Wicker Man took shape. At the time, the Galloway Gazette reported that its construction was shrouded in secrecy lest “provoked by crowds of sightseers, the monster might break free of the scaffolding which imprisons him, devastating the surrounding countryside and terrifying the locals”¹. Two men were built - a larger one for the main shots, and a smaller one 500 yards away for the close-ups of Howie (Edward Woodward) and the final dramatic shot of the head tumbling into the sunset. [I'm not going into any more detail here in case you haven't seen the film]. The remains of the main man, as it were, have been destroyed by over-zealous visitors over the years but the stumps of the smaller one remain cemented into the cliff-top with the initials “WM” and the date 1972 carved into the base.

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Posted by Anne on August 27, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (3)

If you ask directions to Manchester Metropolitan University's Hollings Campus you might get some blank looks, but if you ask for the Toast Rack everyone will know what you mean. Once you catch sight of it there’s no need to explain its nickname – it's a huge tapering building with parabolic concrete arches on top that give it the look of a great big toastrack. There is a legend that in the 1970s students made a giant slice of polystyrene toast and stuck it on the roof for rag week. And if that wasn't enough, to augment the big breakfast theme there is an adjoining building which being small and round is known as The Fried Egg.

The culinary moniker fits well as the building, described by renowned architectural historian Sir Nikolaus Pevsner as "a perfect piece of pop architecture" began life as a classroom block for Manchester’s Domestic and Trades College which had been teaching cookery and domestic science in various incarnations since 1901. It is now home to MMU's Faculty of Food, Clothing and Hospitality Management. With over 2,000 students it is the largest concentration of domestic science students in the UK - and yes, they do sandwich courses.

The buildings were designed in 1958 by City Architect L. C. (Leonard) Howitt who was also responsible for re-modelling the interior of Manchester Free Trade Hall after the original was destroyed in WWII, and designing the Crown Courts in Crown Square. Although it looks playful, there was a practical intent. The tapering shape provides different sized teaching spaces for small or large classes (although the varying room sizes reportedly caused heating problems until the building was refurbished in the 1990s). Beside the main building there are tailoring workshops which were kept separate to minimise noise from the sewing machines, and “The Fried Egg” - a low round building with a circular hall intended for catwalk shows which houses the library and two refectories.

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Posted by Anne on August 08, 2006 | Permalink

As you travel along the A66 on the edge of Darlington you'll see a train on one side of the road. Nothing unusual there except that this one isn't going anywhere. Designed by leading contemporary artist and sculptor David Mach, Train is made from 185,000 local "Accrington Nori" bricks and commemorates Darlington's illustrious heritage as "home of the railways". (The Stockton-Darlington Railway which opened in 1825 was Britain's first permanent steam locomotive railway). Mach describes his train as "as much a piece of architecture as a sculpture". 60 metres long and 6 metres high, it is a perfect rendering of the 1938 classic locomotive "Mallard", complete with plume of billowing smoke.

Creating a large scale, life-like whole out of thousands of commonplace objects is Mach's trademark. Apart from Train he has made a number of artworks worldwide such as The Temple at Tyre out of car tyres and his Big Heids beside the M8 near Glasgow out of steel piping. He puts his interest in mass-production down to a job in a bottling plant he had as a young man back home in Fife. But even though the constituent parts may be common, the end result is far from throwaway and his work is usually thoughtfully designed and painstakingly constructed with sensitivity to the local area and its long-term future.

To create the train a 5 metre long maquette was built - "a substantial piece of sculpture in itself" according to Mach. This was then scanned and produced in drawing form, then redrawn on computer. The construction was "a painful, boring process" involving a team of architects, engineers, bricklayers, quantity surveyors, mortar experts and the artist himself, there to make sure that each brick was in exactly the right place. The team of 34 took 21 weeks to build it and thoughtfully included 20 special "bat" bricks to encourage our nocturnal friends to nest there.

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Posted by Anne on August 06, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (3)

Many follies are hard to describe and lose their impact over time, but The Pineapple in Dunmore (½ mile (1 km) northwest of Airth in Stirlingshire) needs no introduction. On top of a classical Palladian pavilion, housing a small octagonal room, there is a 45 feet tall stone pineapple. When it was completed in 1761 pineapples had only been grown in Scotland for 30 years and were so exotic few people would have seen one, let alone tasted one, but even today, accustomed as we have become to the fruit it is a joy to see.

Commissioned by John Murray, the 4th Earl of Dunmore, the precise reason for its creation has been lost with time. Many sources suggest that the pineapple was then a symbol of wealth, and follies were certainly in fashion. Pineapples were grown at Dunmore in the Earl's heated greenhouses, and the windows looks out onto a fruit orchard which still survives today. If you're going to design a building in the shape of a fruit and really want to show off, the spikiness and symmetry of a pineapple make it a good choice. Whoever the architect was, he did a sterling job - the detail is breathtaking and it has been designed with care. Each leaf is constructed with its own drainage system in order to avoid frost damage.

Its solid construction probably helped to save it from an ignominious end. By 1970 it was still in good shape while the surrounding buildings were falling into disrepair. The Countess of Perth gifted them to the National Trust for Scotland and with the help of The Landmark Trust they were restored. The gardens are open to the public and the building itself can be rented out as an unusual holiday destination.

If you're planning a visit, the gardens are a nice spot for a picnic and there are some woodland walks but be aware that there are no amenities on site - come prepared. From the car park outside the gates, there is a short walk through the beautifully maintained gardens until a gap in the fruit trees frames The Pineapple to best effect. If you walk towards the building there is an information board with some facts and figures on the building and its history. But most of it is just an architectural wonder which won't fail to bring a smile and a sense of wonder to any visit.

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Posted by Anne on July 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (1)

When you hear the words “World’s biggest” there is always a frisson of excitement, but the world’s biggest hedge may not be one of the world's great crowdpullers. That shouldn’t take away anything from its leafy greatness though - it sure is big, standing 120 feet tall at its highest point. Just think of the stepladder you’d need to keep that in trim.

It runs along 580 feet of the A93 Perth to Blairgowrie road - on the left if you’re going north; right if southbound. It is believed to have been planted in the autumn of 1745 by Jean Mercer of Meikleour and her husband Robert Murray Nairne (who was later killed at the Battle of Culloden). The Meikleour Beech Hedge has carried the “World’s Biggest” crown since 1966. As with any world record it’s a serious business and the hedge is cut and remeasured every ten years. It is looked after by the Meikleour Trust and maintenance takes 4 men approximately 6 weeks.

If you are seeking it out you could be forgiven for missing it, as to the untrained eye it looks like a tall, well-kept row of trees. I confess to being totally underwhelmed by this as a child, but when I took the time to walk along beside it to get some pictures it is actually quite impressive. The pavement underneath is narrow so from the bottom you can’t quite see the top, like a proper skyscraper. And being beech, it goes a lovely colour in the autumn. Scotland isn’t renowned for its big things, so maybe we should appreciate what we've got, even if it is only a hedge.

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Posted by Anne on July 24, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (7)

Even if you don't normally get excited at the thought of big sheds full of trains the Scottish Railway Exhibition in Bo'ness (near Falkirk in Scotland's Central Belt) is worth a visit. Enter through an old station covered in vintage ads, walk along the platform, cross the footbridge and pass through a sort of railway graveyard, full of old engines and rusting piles of train innards. Before you even enter the exhibition this sets the scene with the real atmosphere of the railways - not some cleaned-up, age-of-the-train marketing ideal but the raw power behind it all.

At the door to the museum the sign says that admission is £1 but if you don't have a pound they'll work something out. It's that kind of place. Inside, it is staffed by charming railway enthusiasts who are in a permanent state of excitement being kept in a giant shed full of trains. They do a very good job of selling the attractions - lots of trains that you can climb on, displays of railway ephemera and for the hardcore, a signal box to play with and something about valves that I'm afraid passed me by.

Over two giant rooms and 850 feet of display tracks, the trains come in all shapes and sizes. There are goods wagons, Army vehicles, brake vans, passenger coaches through the ages and a real example of travelling in style - Scotland's only Royal Saloon which is pretty plush. There are wagons dating from 1862 to 1963 - 101 years of innovation "from solid wooden buffers to self contained hydraulics, from no brake to air brake, from grease axleboxes to roller bearings".

They've made a real effort to create a proper train-y atmosphere with old suitcases piled onto luggage trolleys, rusting station signs and piped in "chuff-chuff woo-woo" noises. You can get onto quite a few of the trains so wee boys (and big ones) can pretend to be the driver. If you're not much of a trainspotter, the old photographs of travellers and stations are really fascinating. The whole place is nicely low-key and thoughtfully put together with expert knowledge and a great deal of enthusiasm. It's hands-on without being all modern and "interactive". Altogether it's well-rounded, getting everything that's great about rail travel, not just the nuts and bolts.

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Posted by Anne on July 18, 2006 | Permalink

You could say that Lower Largo is famous for one thing, but famous is hardly the word. However if you do take that turn-off on the A915 Kirkcaldy-St Andrews road and land up there it will soon be obvious what it is. Because Lower Largo was the birthplace of Alexander Selkirk, immortalised as Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. He was born here in 1676 and ran away to sea less than 20 years later to work as a buccaneer. On one voyage in the South Pacific he grew concerned about the state of his ship (good call; it later sank) so stayed ashore on the Juan Fernandez Islands, little knowing there would be four years of solitude before he was rescued.

It's a story that captures everyone's imagination, but considering the romance and drama of Selkirk's life, his legacy in Lower Largo is pretty low key. The first sight to hit you is the Crusoe Hotel, which has an enviable spot beside the harbour. There's no mistaking that it's that Crusoe with a sign made out of driftwood and a signpost saying "Juan Fernandez Island 7500 miles". Round the corner at 101 Main Street there is an Alexander Selkirk statue, on the house that now stands on the site of his birthplace. No doubt if he had been born anywhere else there would be Robinson Crusoe-themed boat trips that take you out to a rock and leave you there for the day, but here it's refreshing to find such a simple tribute to a remarkable man.

This fits in with Lower Largo as a whole - despite its hugely picturesque setting it's a sleepy wee place. Traditional Fife fisherman's houses sit higgledy-piggledy under a viaduct which was built in the 1800s to carry the railway line through. The trains have long gone thanks to Dr Beeching, and the harbour which used to hold 36 herring boats is almost empty but the place hasn't lost any of its character. Like many of the villages in the East Neuk of Fife it is a conservation area, and great care has been taken to keep it just the way it is.

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Posted by Anne on July 09, 2006 | Permalink

Blackpool is usually associated with gaudy delights such as the Pleasure Beach and Golden Mile, but away from the coast on the edge of Stanley Park lives a quieter attraction – Blackpool Model Village & Gardens. It’s hard to explain the joy that comes from seeing real things on a smaller scale, but if that’s your bag, head down here quickly. Established in the late 1960s or early 1970s (the owner was a little hazy about actual dates) by a local landscape gardener, the village is set in two and a half acres of park and is unique because of the beautiful (real size) flowers and shrubs that surround the more miniature exhibits.

And it’s all here – the village church with a wedding party outside, the local tea room, a caravan park, a fun fair and cricket match on the village green as well as plenty of things that let’s face it, few villages have – a huge prison, an airstrip and an enormous Scottish castle complete with Scots guards and piped bagpipe music.

As you enter the village you are given an instruction sheet that directs you along the labyrinthine paths with I-Spy style questions to keep the younger members of the party paying attention to detail. And the more you pay attention the more you get as there are little jokes throughout. Eagle-eyed visitors may spot that the proprietors of the garage are Messrs Hugh Crashum and W.E. Mendum. And although it’s a model village it’s not all perfect with an escapee making his way out of the prison, and oh no! a punch-up at the local caff.

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Posted by Anne on June 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (6)

For years Rothesay was a prime holiday destination for hordes of Glaswegians who would take a trip "doon the watter" for some sea air. Thanks to its beautiful setting on the Isle of Bute, and well-preserved Victorian seaside architecture it is still popular (but not as much as it should be), and is easy to reach by public transport making it an ideal place if you suddenly decide you want to get away from it all.

The pleasure starts as soon as you get on the ferry at Wemyss (pronounced "Weems") Bay (or before if you've got the train into its glorious Victorian station). The sailing only take 35 minutes and it's a beautiful trip across the Firth of Clyde. You might associate Scottish island life with crofts and sleepy villages but even from the boat Rothesay's solid Victorian villas and sandstone tenements give a hint of its bustling past.

When you get off the ferry take a right and the Grade 'A' listed Winter Gardens, now the Isle of Bute Discovery Centre will help you find your bearings. The gardens outside are beautifully kept - immaculately clipped and colourful. You can have a game of putting or make a wish in the Wishing Fountain, gifted to the town in 1961. And if you walk along the prom you can enjoy the view over to the Cowal Peninsula. One thing that's so special about Rothesay, and indeed the whole of Bute, is that here a sea view doesn't mean just sea, it means layers and layers of hills and mountains from neighbouring islands and mainland. I'm not always sure what I'm looking at but I know I like it.

Continue past the Winter Gardens to Rothesay Pavilion, one of the finest examples of Art Deco architecture in Scotland described at the time of its opening as 'uncompromisingly Moderne and stylish, [it] captures something of the boldness of Mendlesohn and Chermayeff’s only just completed Bexhill Pavilion’. Now used for concerts and discos the Pavilion also has a cafe which is open during the summer.

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Posted by Anne on June 23, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (1)

Crosby beach has some strange visitors - 100 figures by Angel of the North creator Antony Gormley. Based on a cast of the artist's body, the sculptures are made out of cast iron and stand staring at the horizon. On a busy beach at first they are hard to spot, arranged over 3 kilometres of shore, stretching almost 1 km out to sea. We could only see 10 or 15 at the most and only 3 were fully visible from head to toe. The rest were partially submerged with some only head and shoulders above the water, not waving but drowning.

Up close the figures have been worn by the elements, giving them a wonderful texture. Each one has a tag on its wrist with a number. Despite the fact that each figure is 650 kilos of high-grade British art they seem pretty approachable and local residents have obviously adopted them as their own. The one that we could get to most easily was surrounded by children and as photos from the Another Place Flickr pool show they are sometimes adorned with sunhats, motorbike helmets and even a Santa outfit. They're also a handy place to leave your flip-flops if you're heading in for a paddle (but please, no swimming on this beach - it's too dangerous).

We saw it on a beautiful sunny late afternoon but I can imagine that other viewings will offer up different things depending on the weather and the t