Monday, 3 June 2024

MISS ELAINEOUS VISITS THE TENEMENT HOUSE (GLASGOW)...

It was an uphill schlep north, past a scaffold-covered Glasgow School of Art, to get to the Tenement House in Buccleuch Street, which is operated by the National Trust for Scotland.  And what a handsome building it is!  
In England the word "tenement" tends to be synonymous with slum housing, whereas in Scotland from the mid-19th century (although there were slum tenements) it simply refers to a stone building with two or more storeys, with one or more apartments on each level and a common entrance and stairs.

The building dates from 1892 and the flat in question is a first floor time capsule, occupied by Agnes Toward from 1911-1965.  The ground floor flats have now been bought by the National Trust and act as the reception and exhibition area.
Here's an authentic fireplace in the museum room.

Miss Toward amassed artefacts from all aspects of her life, so we are able to get a very good view of what she was about.  These are objects from Miss Toward's sewing box.  She lived alone with her dressmaker mother, as her father died when she was three and her two sisters had passed in infancy. 

A homemade tea cosy, and Agnes was born in 1886.  From 1914 she worked as a shorthand typist (the same profession as my mother.)
We know that she was petite (less than 5' in height), that she played with a doll called Rosa and had a cat named Tibs.

Agnes Toward, and she appeared to have kept everything from recipes, letters, bills, postcards and theatre programmes (she enjoyed musical shows), so it's possible to build up an idea of her likes and dislikes.

The next room shows a model of a tenement building.  This is an ordinary red sandstone building, although early tenements were built in local white or honey-coloured sandstone. 


Another classic fireplace (the house I was brought up in, which dated from 1905, also had beautiful fireplaces like this, restored and painted by my rather artistic father).

Household living implements, and tenements could could be "single end" (only one room).  This flat- two rooms plus a kitchen and bathroom- were built for the slightly better off.  Larger tenements existed for the more affluent.
Could this be Rosa sitting at the back?

The cleaning of the stairs was a shared responsibility, and you can see the tiles coming down the side of the stairs.  These were common in wealthier tenements. This tenement building contains flats which are still lived in today.

This room contains a selection of letters received by Agnes from her friends in London.  She trained as a secretary in 1905, at a commercial college in Buchanan Street, which is in the city centre.

More household everyday essentials and the kind of decorative tiles that would have been found in tenements such as this.

A letter to Miss Toward, and isn't the handwriting elegant?  I hope that, in this day and age of computers and texting, that it's not a skill that gets lost.

The flat consists of four rooms opening off this central hallway.  Most of the furniture belonged to Agnes- much of it inherited.
Incidentally she had electricity installed in 1960 but made no major changes to the property.  For authenticity purposes the original gas lighting has been restored.

Another lovely fireplace, although bedroom fires were only lit when someone was ill.  You can make out the marble-topped washstand, although I suspect that the radiator is a modern addition!

Agnes' bed, and she lived here alone after her mother's death in 1939.  She never married.

Agnes' traditional wardrobe, and brass beds like these are still popular nowadays.

Agnes' dressing table is very feminine, with its perfume bottles and vanity set.  My mother owned similar items as did I in the house I was brought up in, which was traditional rather than modern.

This sewing machine in the corner looks like some kind of embroidery machine (I should know- I did study fashion, after all.  But my time in that industry has long since passed...) 

Agnes' parlour, and apparently rooms such as these were only used on special occasions.  The china bell to the left of the fireplace was used for summoning the maid, but it's unlikely that the Towards ever employed a maid here.

The table is set for afternoon tea.  How genteel!
During those days people tended to spend more time in the kitchen- it would be the warmest room in the house, after all. 

The piano, and we know that Agnes liked to listen to the wireless.  Set-in beds like this were only found in tenements built before 1900.

They provide extra sleeping space, but ended up being banned for health reasons.

The china cupboard in the far corner...

Into the kitchen, and this is a typical black range.

The table in the centre of the room, and ironing would have been done on this table.

We are required to imagine that it's 1935.  It's not that hard to do in this room...

Small items of washing could have been washed here, and wrung out using the wringer (my nan had a larger version of one of these- I vaguely remember my mum using it outside in my nan's yard, but memories are shady as we're going back about 50 years...)  Larger items would have been washed in the now-demolished communal washhouse, and there was a strict rota for its usage.

Hot water which was heated by the range once sat in a tank situated in this cupboard, where it could be piped to the sink and bathroom.
In this cupboard are jams made by Agnes but never eaten.  The oldest is marked "Plum 1929."  I would love to taste it to see what it's like, and whether it has stood the test of time!

Cooking implements, and some- like the lemon squeezer- are relevant today.  A quart can, which milk was delivered in, can be seen hanging up.  The coal bunker sits underneath this area, delivered by a merchant who carried the sack up the stairs on his back.

The set-in bed with an old fashioned stoneware hot water bottle.  A lot of things I saw here are very familiar, as I was brought up in a big, old house with many pieces of furniture and household items inherited from my nan.

The bell for calling the maid, and household help was cheap at the time.  Many families in Buccleuch Street had a maidservant.

A mouse (or is that a rat?  It looks rather large!) and his trap in the corner...

The bathroom, and I can still remember there being outside toilets with high cisterns like this at my infant school.  Thankfully they were torn down- I was always worried that the contraption was going to fall onto my head!

The Towards were lucky, as many tenements shared an outside privy with their neighbours, although some tenements had communal toilets inside; one on each landing.

A collection of cosmetic jars and medicine and perfume bottles adorn the windowsill...

A closer view, and I can also remember that awful Izal toilet paper!  I'm sure it remained in school toilets up until the 1980s.

View down into the deep bath tub, and families who didn't have a bathroom would have used a tin bath.

The gas meter, and you can just about make out the wicker laundry basket, which would have been used for hanging out and collecting the washing in good weather.

A Vain Old Tart photograph, and the Towards rented their flat.  Glasgow tenements were often managed by factors.  These were the owners' agents, and their chief task was to collect rent.

The "marble" sink is actually porcelain, to create a good impression for visitors.
I loved the sink and would be happy to own one like this myself!

This downstairs part never belonged to the Towards, but it's used for educational purposes and possibly an extension to the tearoom.
Agnes Toward left the building when she went into hospital in 1965, dying ten years later.  She had no-one to leave her belongings to but, having been involved in church life, left a set of chairs to a church elder, who thankfully brought his niece with him when he went to collect them...

That was very fortuitous for this shrine to history as his niece- a Scottish actress called Anna Davidson- bought the flat for herself.  Realising what an important part of social history she had on her hands, she sold it on, in 1982, to the National Trust for Scotland.
This is the tearoom, but we didn't linger for a cuppa.

There is also a little shop with this display in it.
It's believed that Agnes' mother wore this black dress on her wedding day, in April 1884. Black seems a somewhat unusual choice nowadays!

I'm so glad I visited this building as it's a wonderfully personal snippet of Glaswegian history.  Nowadays community housing associations have bought many tenement buildings and improved them, bringing them up to modern standards and cleaning the grimy stone exteriors so that they once again sparkle like new.  This style of property is still sought after today.

It was an incredibly enjoyable and educational (and I'm devoted to lifelong learning) kind of day.

TTFN

Miss Elaineous

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MISS ELAINEOUS VISITS THE PANOPTICON...

 The Britannia Panopticon was a word that I couldn't fathom or consciously remember with ease, and apparently I wasn't the first.  When it acquired this moniker, Glaswegians couldn't pronounce it either, so began calling it "the pots and pans," which then evolved into "that potty place."  Potty, of course, can mean one of two things: 
1) a chamber pot for pissing in
2) someone who's quite mad!
More on the significance of urination later...

It took me a while to master the word, and until then I referred to it as:
1) The Pygmalion
2) The Porphyrian
3) The Papillion
4) The Pangolin
5) The Pornocopian

The building to the right was once The Britannia Music Hall, which later became known as The Britannia Panopticon, or just The Panopticon.  It's now Mitchell's Amusements, with a sweet shop attached, yet the Panopticon is still tucked away inside. 

Access is via this side door off Trongate, and I had a bit of trouble finding it.  The word "panopticon" means to view everything.  It's derived from "pan"= everything and "opti"= to see.  Both are Greek terms.
I became aware of the existence of The Panopticon when I saw it on TV, just a few weeks before my trip to Glasgow.

We had to climb a set of shabby stairs (indeed, the whole of the inside is a work in progress).  The Panopticon is the world's oldest surviving music hall, and dates back to 1857/58, being leased to John Brand in 1859.  Since then it has changed hands many times.

At the entrance door is a poster advertising Stan Laurel.  He made his first ever public appearance in this very building aged sixteen, back in 1906, after persuading the then-owner that he was worthy of a chance "Because I'm Funny."

We got to stand on the stage of this grand old building, which was opened to entertain the working classes who had flocked to the city to find work during industrialisation.  After an unthinkably (to our modern and more delicate sensibilities) gruelling day in the mill; in the shipyard; in the factory; in the colliery or in the foundry, they needed somewhere to be entertained.

These were a tough crowd to keep happy, and this is the stage where "no turn was left un-stoned."  This no-nonsense crowd would throw nails, shipyard rivets, manure and rotten turnips at any act that didn't come up to muster.  The men would also urinate on unimpressive acts from the balcony! 

Indeed, this place has survived due to the three Ps:
1) Pee  
The Panopticon didn't have a toilet until 1893.  Until then men often couldn't be bothered to fight their way through the crowds to the nearest alleyway, so they'd urinate on the spot (although I suppose it's perfectly feasible to imagine women doing the same.)  It is thought that this is why The Panopticon didn't burn down, as many other similar venues did, caused by punters being careless when extinguishing cigarettes.  It was totally and utterly sodden!

2) Poo
Allegedly, horse manure collected from the streets acted as a hand warmer, and could also double up as a missile to be thrown at a bad singer, or unfunny comedian.

3) Prostitutes
Ladies of dishonourable virtue would ply their wares in the dark corners of the balcony, and this is known due to the large number of fly buttons still surviving locally as evidence.  At one point, in an attempt to clean up the place, husband-and-wife management team, Mr & Mrs Rossborough, insisted that no ladies be admitted unless accompanied by a gentleman.

Nowadays, an amount of old props are huddled around the stage.
Back in the day, up to 1500 people would cram onto wooden bench seats up to four times a day.  Those who couldn't afford a seat would stand around the edges.  Acts that impressed this bawdy crowd would be rewarded with deafening foot-stamping and thunderous applause.

The bar at the back, and a selection of costumes.
Dancing girls were a particular draw for the men, who loved the titillation of stocking tops in an age where female flesh was generally hidden.  Music halls became synonymous with ribald behaviour.  Due to moral concerns, police started visiting as part of their daily beat.  But the acts would just exercise more decorum whilst they were there, then return to their risqué humour once they'd left.

More props, and a life-size Stan Laurel cut-out.
Under the management of Mr and Mrs Rossborough, from 1869, the music hall flourished and became more family friendly.  The bill now included acrobats, trapeze artists, child performers and animal acts.  They refitted the auditorium to include plush seating and chandelier lighting, gave it a paint facelift and, in doing so, made the venue a tad more elegant.

There are several old advertisements and newspaper articles regarding this venue all around the auditorium.
During its heydey, some of the greatest ever music hall acts- such as Marie Lloyd, Dan Leno, Harry Lauder and Bessie Bellwood- graced the boards here.  Songs from this time are still sung today; such as Ta-ra-ra-boum-deay, The Boy I Love Is Up in the Gallery and I'm Henery the Eighth, I Am.

The Panopticon moved with the times.  In 1896 it became one of the first 300 buildings in the city to have electricity wired in, and by 1897 the aminated picture became a regular draw.

They even had an act, called Dr Walford Bodie, who would connect himself to electric coils and the audience would see his hair stand on end!😆

This part was semi behind a curtain and did indeed look a tad shabby (but I kind of liked it- it has character).
By the turn of the century Britannia Music Hall was beginning to look tired, as new variety theatres opened across the city. The venue closed in 1903, then reopened in 1906 as A.E. Pickard- who modelled himself on American showman P.T. Barnham- turned the upstairs into a carnival; complete with a fortune teller and fairground games such as a coconut shy and a rifle range.

It was then that the venue became known as The Panopticon (advertised as The Grand Panopticon), as one could see everything within its walls.  There were also waxworks on that level- including those of the British royal family- and a freakshow.  Visitors could come and see the likes of the world's smallest man, the world's tallest man, the world's ugliest woman and the bearded lady here.

I don't think modern political correctness would allow such a show nowadays!
Here the tattooed lady is being advertised.  I once met a woman who was as tattooed as her!  True story!  Me, I only have one tattoo- a rose on my shoulder.  Mind you, when I had my tattoo done- in 1990- they were still considered risqué on a woman.  The Spice Girls were yet to popularise them!

This looks like a selection of gloves (lost property?) and tickets in a picture frame.
Pickard also turned the basement into a zoo, which he advertised as "Noah's Ark."  Here you could see a collection of reptiles, birds, monkeys, a bear and the cheeky chimpanzee Solomon, who was married to another chimpanzee named Betsy (really, I couldn't make this up!)😆

A pier-style photo opportunity Laurel and Hardy in the back room.  Alongside the zoo, you would also have been able to see Hogarth paintings, a hall of mirrors and medieval etchings of Chinese torture.  Pickard may have been many things, but I certainly wouldn't describe him as boring!

Postcards and pamphlets in this cabinet.  
By this stage, the addition of the carnival, waxworks, freakshow and zoo, along with the major works that had been undertaken to accommodate these, had reduced the entertainment size to 500 seats.

A cabinet of props (at least that's what I hope they are, as I can see human fingers here...)
Up until 1938 various entertainments took place here, such as boxing demonstrations, amateur nights, animal shows and film shows interspersed with live acts.

Another prop cabinet, and this place is certainly worth an hour of your time- we even got to go up on the stage, which was wonderful!
In 1938 Pickard closed the Panopticon, unable to compete with the popular entertainment of the day- local cinemas.  It was sold to a tailoring firm.

Sitting in the auditorium, looking up to the blacked-out windows.  It only costs £2 to enter here, and it's certainly worth it.  If I go again I'll make the time to have a cocktail at their bar.
During its time as a tailors, this room was used as a workshop, with the upper auditorium and this ceiling hidden under a plaster ceiling.  The building was given category A listed status in 1977.

The founder of Friends of the Brittania Panopticon- which manages events and entertainments here nowadays, and supports the Brittania Panopticon Trust- was stunned, in 1997, to catch a glimpse of this very ceiling, along with the eerily-undisturbed upper auditorium.

The Brittania Panopticon Trust aims to preserve and restore the entire building.  Once again music hall songs fill the hall, as the plaster ceiling has been removed, the stage put back into use and performances take place here once more.

Upcoming events include a Laurel & Hardy Film Night, a tea and tarot event, a vintage fair and a comedians' competiton.  If I get the chance I would love to come to an event here.
It's an atmospheric and incredibly interesting theatre.  I love it for its shabbiness, and wouldn't want it to be over-restored!

Glasgow and The Panopticon, I will return.

Until then...

TTFN

Miss Elaineous

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Saturday, 1 June 2024

YOUTUBE CHELSEA IN BLOOM VLOG LIVE...

 My Chelsea in Bloom vlog is now live- come and see this beautiful Floral Feast for the eyes!


Link:-

https://youtu.be/RdKAcco1574

The Royal Horticultural Society (RHS) event, the Chelsea Flower Show, dates back to 1912 and is held in the grounds of the Royal Hospital Chelsea, in London. It is attended by members of the royal family and tickets are pretty expensive- the cheapest I found available over the five days was £47. But Chelsea in Bloom is an event which runs concurrently- it's where businesses in the area decorate their premises with floral displays, and it's free to attend. I just had to pop along with my trusty camera and create this photo montage! It is a colourful mirage around Sloane Square station, seeping off into King's Road and other nearby streets. Five large installations were on show; including The Lady and the Tramp eating their romantic spaghetti dinner and Winnie-the-Pooh and friends. My favourite shop display had to be Carmen Miranda, though- watch the video and you'll see how unique and fun she looks!

If you like your information in word form then I have blogged about it as well:-


Remember to like and subscribe, and don't forget to follow this blog as well!

TTFN

The Miss Elaineous

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