Paddy at The Museum

Paddy of Up Your Street researched at The British Museum and at The Victoria and Albert Museum in order to take her peers on a free guided tour of Southeast Asian lacquered artefacts and research she did. She led us around the gallery on the ground floor at the V&A explaining the different types of lacquer and the trees from which the sap is collected.
She made fantastic links by joining up the dots between the Gujerati, Turkish and Chinese artistes and their expertise as lacquer designs reached out to international markets over the centuries. She didn’t labour the beauty and aestheticism of the objects but rather gave us a human story behind religious vessels and dynastic fruits.
Informal but earnest Paddy has graduated from novice guide to a confident experienced approachable tour guide.
Museum curators and funders are desperate to increase the footfsll ofseniors into their hallowed halls. looks like “Sisters are doin’ it for themselves”.

Advertisements

Cynthia the snake, in a playground, in a community school, in a time capsule, in old Leytonstone.

Loved it; loved every minute of the Buxton School Festival. I’d followed the history of Tom Hood School, the building of Buxton, the demolition of the old school, (in that order) and fallen in love with the name Cobbold. And then I went and bought one of his houses, outside WC an’ all. On Buxton’s site, the first thing I noticed was the space and that every gateway and nook was covered by staff in security uniforms of lilac tabards or mauve. And who doesn’t love the smell of cooking food at a fair? No vegans here.
The playgrounds were measured out into zones with the family zone cut off in a secluded part of the school’s grounds. It was likely the nursery playground. Sandra’s sewing stall and Gayna’s Pantry of chutnies made from the produce of her allotment were allocated stalls there. Bit weird as kiddies don’t have that spending power.
Rushing around were the school’s volunteer members. They were students with an air of responsibility and the ability to be customer-aware. I was confident in their manner and their training. Well done. Also walking around alone was Sally Littlejohn, the lady Mayor resplendent in her heavy chain of democratic power.
Every member of staff was alert and helpful even to the end when gates were locked and a way of escape looked increasingly difficult.

Children joined in Karate moves given by the Karate school under the Thorpe railway arches, and carried on to do mask-made with felts and glitter. It was very good and then by the construction tubs along came the Suntrap team with snakes, giant snails, centipedes, a beetle and a lizard. Children were made heroes for wrapping Cynthia the snake around their necks. What fun.
Spicy chicken and rice £6.Bit steep. Steeper were ice cream cornets at £2. Steep for those used to Tesco ice cream deliveries and we are.
Best of all was the community spirit. It was just joy. Here was a brand new spanking school, an all-through the ages school, desperate to be the community one and in front of the smaller but no more intimate Jenny Hammond Primary School. Things have to be proven. Buxton has a beautiful history, that of the most popular Tom Hood School. And a loyal following of Alma Mater in the plural.

The community outreach staff led by the militaristic Molly, aka one senior teacher, worked hard to get the Festival off the ground. Their success was evident and I as a community person applaud that achievement.

Buxton was Tom Hood was Cobbold. Cobbold was old John Chevallier Cobbold.He was an MP and a landowner, a brewer in Ipswich, a railway addict and a soundslike Richard Branson who was as wealthy as sin and had built the two ups two downs along the Lanes off Dames Road; near the new railways, see. Love that geezer.

Past Glories

After a dismal time trailing community art and wondering how the word “mediocre” morphed into “brilliant” I was pleased to get my teeth into the history of Earlham Grove’s Durning Hall in Forest Gate. Throughout my whole research my maternal grandmother appeared up in my head in her mink or pine marten stole talking about voting for the local North London Conservative candidate because she wore a mink coat and that was in 1955. Even then I sensed she was a silly-billy. Durning Hall in Forest Gate was opened in 1959 so my grandmother was around then and probably about forty looking a hundred and certainly dressed in the same way as the women in the press photos of the time.

I went to Durning Hall doing a reccie for Up Your Street members. My chums had gone to Toynbee Hall in Old Castle Street E1 for an ageing and wellness course and there is incredibly a link between the history of both halls. Argh, I nearly ran away at the state of the building and the vague welcome by the reception staff. It’s a highly secured place and is scabby-looking in and out. The toilet is okay at least. Upstairs where the House of Love sessions take place all about companionship and alleviating isolation is dreariness itself. The walls impose in their 1959 wallpaper of gloss, dirty pale lemon and swirls. There are doors everywhere and one could say it’s a rabbit warren. The shock was seeing an amazing large brown-coloured hall complete with parquee floor. My eyes would have revealed my inner thoughts termed “potential”.

A woman was in charge of boxed pre-loved board games, fresh Madeira cake, the blaring CD player and the register which was a heap of fallen away papers. What a scene.
She explained the lack of clients due to the lack of a lift. I believe her even though there was only one other woman there who would never remember that I came and that we shook hands.
What a to-do. Mend the lift Aston-Mansfield Charity people! What a place. Only Up Your Street folk could liven it up. It’s easy for Leyton and Stratford seniors to get to. 58 and 308 buses stop outside. There’s Wanstead Park and Forest Gate stations and many buses up from Stratford.
Instead of eating dinner more and more recently called lunch then I Googled for the “E7 Now and Then” reports about The History of Durning Hall. Do it. Read for yourself. Then into the spotlight came Miss Theodora Durning-Lawrence. She was a spinster so inherited her double-barrelled name from her uncle who himself had acquired Durning by Royal Licence before he became a Baronet. She inherited wealth beyond our dreams but despite getting to church in a Daimler, lived her life in a seedy hotel. Strange but true. Takes all sorts. A good name to have, eh, as it smacks of a mega- wealthy Liverpool family? Lawrence is pretty cool too: My paternal grandma’s name by marriage.

I’ve commissioned my clever sister to find out if ole Theodora were hands on with the women in the local women’s settlement or whether she was just the purse.
I doubt if she were that philanthropic but I’ll welcome a surprise.
This is another story really of the rich of Forest Gate in those days and how they were all tied up in politics and being elected mayors and how church and synagogue were prominent features in their and every citizen’s life then. There was abject poverty up to and between the world wars. Earlham Grove’s rich tenants fled during the east end bombings and their houses were converted to flats. This according to E7 Now And Then was the beginning of the demise from grandeur into scruffiness.

Beats mediocre.