Sunday 23rd November. On this, the final day of
the General Council meeting, the DGs were due to head off to RIBI headquarters
straight after breakfast for a busy morning session. It was likely to be longer
than anticipated, as they had not managed to finish all of yesterday’s business.
The Consorts, by contrast, were heading off to the Black Country Living Museum
in Dudley, about 20 miles away. This trip had been Di King’s idea, as she
didn’t want to go shopping, and didn’t want to sit around in the hotel all
morning. She had arranged for 2 cars to transport 10 of us, with her as one of
the drivers and me as the other.
The Black Country Living Museum
As Di and I would be driving our own cars, the DG and Peter
King needed to be transported to RIBI’s Kinwarton Road headquarters. Before
breakfast the DG and I had checked out of the hotel, with our luggage (and
shopping) loaded into the boot of the car. Immediately after breakfast I took Peter
and the DG to Kinwarton Road, then returned to the Hotel to collect the
Consortium. Sandra had dropped out, so there were now nine of us, 4 in my car
and 5 in Di’s. Normally I extensively research the directions to anywhere that
I am driving to for the first time, so I have a map in my head as I drive
along. On this occasion, as I wasn’t the organiser, I had done no research, so
assumed I would be following Di. However it transpired that she had no more
idea of which way to go than I did, although Rosemary Price had copied some
maps and gave one to me, which was a help.
Margaret, Margaret, Lyn, Jill, Sheila, Rosemary, Di and Mary and me
By the time I had set off, with my ladies on board (Mary
Hopkins, Margaret Marquis, Margaret Walmsley) we were several minutes behind Di.
Besides a rough idea of the route in my mind, we had two Sat Navs on board,
which incidentally had conflicting ideas of the route we should take. We drove
by committee, and I was quite relaxed about it, because I was confident that
the Museum would be signposted from the M5, which indeed it was. We arrived 5
minutes ahead of Di, and I decided not to ask which route they had taken.
Cottage with vegetable garden
The Black Country, which is situated to the North West of
Birmingham, is an area that has always fascinated me. Centred on the area
around Dudley, Sandwell and West Bromwich, the local accent is a very thick
Brummie brogue, which I love to listen to. There seem to be conflicting
opinions on how its name is derived. Some think it was a quote from Queen Victoria, who ordered the curtains to the Royal Train to be pulled shut as it
passed through the area, as she was offended by the sight of the Industrial landscape,
but a more likely explanation is that the name came from the South Staffordshire coal seam, said to be the thickest layer of coal in Britain,
which comes to the surface in this area, making the soil black.
Perfectly preserved shops from 1930's
Entry wasn’t cheap, at £12.75 each, although I noticed that
carers for disabled visitors only had to pay £5. I wondered if I could persuade
one of my companions to enter in a wheelchair, so that I could benefit from the
discount. It wouldn’t have been too onerous for them as I would have helped them
with a push up any steep inclines, but when I mentioned it there were no
takers. As soon as we arrived, and before we had even bought our tickets, we
were greeted by a man with a local accent, who entertained us as he told us a
little about the museum. In fact, wherever we went in the Museum, the staff or
volunteers we met were all Black Country people, with that unmistakeable
accent.
Inside a radio workshop
The Museum covers
several acres, and is designed to give an impression of what life was like for
local people in the early part of last century. A Black Country village in the
early 20th Century has been created by rebuilding, brick by brick,
houses, shops and public buildings which started life elsewhere. There is a
mineshaft that can be walked down (we didn’t have time today), a canal complete
with one of the longest tunnels in Britain, which you can cruise along (again,
our relatively short time did not allow this), trams (not running today) and
old buses to ride on (not available today).
Keeping warm by the brazier
However we saw everything else there was to see, and what a
lot there was. We started off walking to a couple of old cottages with coal
smoke billowing from the chimneys. Here, as in every other building on site,
was a woman dressed in period clothing (1920s in this case), to tell us all
about it. On this occasion, the woman was a bit flustered, as the fire had gone
out and had only just been re-lit (how that reminds me of my childhood!).
Having looked into the kitchen, I pointed out to her that there was a plastic
carton of semi-skimmed milk on the counter, which I doubted would have been
available in 1920. She explained that she was supposed to have been doing some
baking before visitors arrived, but was running late because of trying to get
the fire going.
Get your tin bath here
Next on our itinerary was a rather grand building called the
Workers Institute, and here we were given a very interesting talk on the lives
of women workers in the early part of the 20th century. Apparently a
major source of employment for women at this time was in chain making, and
typically they worked very long hours for a pittance of a wage. In 1910 they
took the unprecedented step of going on strike for a minimum wage, and
eventually the factory owners gave in to their demands. This building was
constructed with money raised by the women during that strike. We walked on from here and found ourselves in
a 1930’s street, which was full of shops and businesses recreating with
tremendous attention to detail the look and even the stock of shops of the
time. Here there were a tobacconist’s, a Radio shop and gentlemen’s outfitter,
all with living accommodation above.
Chapel with central pulpit, but no altar
The gentlemen’s outfitter was particularly interesting, as
he displayed a suit of the time, which would have cost £17 to buy, way beyond
the means of the average working man. This shop, therefore was for the wealthy
factory owners. The man in the shop, authentically dressed, entertained us with
stories about the clothes on show, which included actual shirts and underwear
of that time, which for some reason were particularly interesting to my
Consortium colleagues. A little further down the road was a baker’s shop with
cakes and biscuits on sale, made to 1930’s recipes. I couldn’t resist a piece
of bread pudding, which I put in my pocket for later.
The Bottle & Glass Inn
We looked in a schoolroom, complete with scary teacher, and
a superb grocer’s store. On its shelves it had sugar in blue packets, which
struck a chord with Mary, who could remember
sugar being sold in this way. Interestingly some products, such as
Brasso, do not appear to have changed at all in 80 years. I went into the
Bottle and Glass Inn which had the traditional spit ‘n sawdust floor. There
were a couple of brass bowls on the floor and I asked the barmaid if they were for
dogs. No, she replied, they were spittoons. She explained that the area’s smoky
air and industrial works, caused a lot of respiratory problems, so spitting on
the bar floor was commonplace. New layers of sawdust were regularly put down,
and it would all be swept up at the end of the day.
Something for canal enthusiasts
I was fascinated by the nailmaker’s workshop. Here a man
worked on a forge, creating six inch nails one by one. We watched him make one,
it took a couple of minutes. I asked him if the nailmaker made a variety of
sizes of nail. To my surprise he said that each nailmaker made just one particular
size of nail, and that was his job for the rest of his working life. If someone
wanted nine-inch nails, he would go to another nailmaker. Obviously time off
was a problem as he would only get paid per nail produced. When I looked at the
finished nail I remarked that it had a sharp edge at the business end, rather
than a pointed end as I would expect. He told me that pointed nails cause the
wood to split, so they were never made with pointed tips in those days.
Which way do we go now?
There was much more of interest as we walked around this
excellent museum. One cottage had a kind of convex lump built on to the side of
it, which we were told was to prevent men from urinating against the house. I
found the smell of coal fires burning, which completely pervaded the site, very
evocative and a reminder of times when I was growing up before the days of
central heating. We finished our tour in the café and shop, where Margaret
Walmsley kindly treated me to a hot chocolate, which I had with my piece of
bread pudding - it was absolutely delicious.
Mystery lump on the side of this house
The journey back to RIBI headquarters, to pick up our
respective DGs was straightforward, as it was simple to retrace our steps,
although the roads were a bit busier. Once again we beat Di back to our
destination by some minutes, as I understand there were a few problems with
wrong turns. The General Council meeting was over-running, so we all sat in the
lounge area watching the final Formula One Grand Prix of the season, in which
Lewis Hamilton clinched the Drivers Championship. One of my lady friends
wondered aloud why there were no women drivers in Formula One. I suggested it
was because they would get lost on the way round, a comment which could have
landed me in deep trouble, but I think I got away with it.
Classic car show room
Eventually the DGs joined us (Stuart actually left the
meeting early saying he couldn’t stay any longer)and after farewells we headed
homewards. The DG and I stopped at a roadside café near Bicester for a rather
indifferent lunch. We should have gone across the road where there was a Little Chef. Here I could have had an
Olympic Breakfast, which I think they serve all day. I would have enjoyed that.
A fabulous museum. We visited this summer, and had a hearty fish and chip lunch.
ReplyDeleteYes, I'd heard the fish and chips were good, but we were a bit early for lunch, so I made do with my bread pudding.
Delete