Royal Pharmaceutical Society Museum

66 East Smithfield

London E1 W 1AW

Thursday February 1 2018

Google maps had advised a brisk 17 minute walk from Shadwell Station but having forgotten my phone, which included all the details of today’s planned visit, I turned the wrong way down Cable Street walking its entire length – this was quite peaceful as little traffic and much of the road given over to a bike lane but also markedly lacking in shops and cafes which are vital if you want to ask your way. Even the maps on the bus stops did not help much. When I got to the end I turned back and found myself on the hideous red route of the Highway where I was the only pedestrian, but at least one of the riverside blocks had a map and by now with building sites all round I found my destination – late again but fortunately Jo had somewhere really pleasant to wait…

The Royal Pharmaceutical Society Museum, part of the professional association from the start, was established in 1841, moved here from Lambeth some 2½ years ago into a purpose-designed and ‘high spec’ building. The generous reception area morphs into the Museum collection. We liked very much that they had displayed their best apothecary bottles and pestles and mortars in the windows alongside the sloped access along the side of the building, which was so well insulated we did not notice either the sound of the dreadful road outside or the very cold weather.

The mainly blue and white jars are Delft' type; the Assyrians were the first to make tin-glazed ware and this spread through the Middle East and then via the Moors to Spain and on to Holland. Many of the containers made expressly for the Apothecary trade came from Norwich where some Dutch (religious) refugees had set up a pottery. 

But back to the pharmacists – if Hippocrates is seen as the founding father of medicine then Avicenna and Galen are also owed much by the pharmacists. Knowledge passed through the Middle Ages and the Middle East and many early practitioners were based in monasteries where there was access to herbal supplies; it has to be said that my knowledge of this comes purely from historical detective fictions where our medieval (Cadfael/Name of the Rose) or Tudor (Shardlake) detectives use the knowledge of friendly and learned monks to solve their crimes and pursue their villains.

In 1841 a group of dispensers/druggists/apothecaries got together and decided the profession needed some regulation, recognition and research so founded the Society, reminding us how good the Victorians were at trying to improve and standardise in an age where rapid industrialisation was taking place. We were pleased to see that, unlike many professional associations, the walls were NOT hung with the portraits of the great and the good  (as I am sure the previous premises had been) but reproductions are to hand in one of the many laminate folders provided. The only portraits still on show are those of an early female president and  Jacob Bell, one of the pioneer founders of the Society. Interestingly, when I was growing up their pharmacy in Marylebone was known to be the only one open on a 24 hour basis and you had to head there if something was needed out of hours…

But far more of the many vitrines are devoted to historical aspects of the pharmaceutical business over the years; the display cabinets are full of fascinating items with the cribs available on different sheets and with the constant juggling I find my notes to be very scarce so the descriptions will be sketchy.

There was much paraphernalia displayed which was needed for the hand manufacture of tinctures, pills and potions which needed to be weighed (hence the scales), distilled with water (samovars used as filters), mixed with other compounds and then moulded into pills – think of making cupcakes but on a tiny scale. The ‘raw ingredients’ were always kept VERY WELL LABELLED and poisons were prominent by their green ribbed bottles. There was an informative key to as to what effects each poison might have (arsenic, strychnine, ricin, nicotine, alcohol, laudanum, belladonna) what they might have been used for and how they are still sometimes used today. All use was carefully controlled and logged (The Poisons Book) and did nothing so much as recall all those old-fashioned thrillers where the protagonists buy poison ‘for the rats’.     

As advances are made in medical research so then the corresponding treatments evolve. The cabinets display early examples of penicillin and how it has evolved into multiple anti-biotics, early syringes for diabetes, and the bones, spices and herbs the original monks ground up. Nicholas Culpepper was very radical for his times treating patients for free and venting his anger about the government in control.

At one point Jo said the displays reminded her of  nothing so much as our visit to Robert Opie’s Museum of Brands and Packaging. In many ways I can see the parallels – advertising and branding is all about persuasion and a component of medication is the placebo effect: if the packaging of the pills is suitably persuasive we will almost certainly feel better. Obviously modern medicine is more sophisticated than the Victorian ‘quacks’ peddling bears’ grease as a cure for baldness. I doubt very much the grease was much more than that of the local farmyard animals but isn’t the packaging wonderful?

Also who would have thought that Hiram Maxim (he of the machine gun) had also patented an inhaler?

The most gruesome display (some dispute as to whether we should show this photo so perhaps this blog should come with a health warning?) was the head of a man used to demonstrate some 15 or so skin ailments ranging from acne to herpes, syphilis, impetigo, conjunctivitis and early and advanced skin cancer…

We did find this display fascinating and informative. In any case we have great respect for pharmacists who continue to do sterling work in our local chemists and hospitals, having always to remain vigilant, precise and careful in what they dispense. It is rare nowadays that they have to manufacture their own potions but they need to know dosages and what can and cannot be taken together, and it is fitting that their professional society has a wonderful modern headquarters but still retains many examples of past practice.  .  

Small samovars used to distill water 

Maxim's Inhaler

1944 Penecillin 

Headstone Manor Museum

HA2 6PX

Thursday 25 January 2018

Today, Linda and I went to Harrow's Borough Museum, in the charming setting of Headstone Manor.  The River Yeading runs nearby, and there were catkins overhanging the water of the moat.

The museum exists in three buildings, apart from the Great Barn, which is reserved for weddings and other events of that nature.  The gardens around are being interestingly planted, and will be lovely in a year or two

We began in the small barn, where a film outlined the main events in the history of the manor, and then crossed the bridge into the manor house.

This area has been inhabited for over 10,000 years and, while the museum has comparatively few artefacts, its collection is well displayed and explained.  As befits a community museum, children and families are generously catered for. Rather a nice cartoon mallard (called Bill, hoho) points the way to various puzzles and activities, and there are cases showing the fruits of collaboration with local schools and colleges.

The Romans were here, conveniently for the A5 (or, as it was then, Watling Street) and the Anglo-Saxons had a shrine, or Herga on Harrow Hill.  It is thought that Herga morphed into Harrow as a name.

The Domesday Book confirms what a prosperous place this was in 1087.  Its lord was the Archbishop of Canterbury, and it was a country home for succeeding prelates until Henry VIII annexed it in 1545 and then sold it on to Sir Edward North.  But of course the land continued to be farmed by tenant farmers, whatever was happening to ownership and power.

A country area until the arrival of the railway in 1837, Harrow rapidly became commuter territory.  But a number of industries also flourished here, and we learned about them as we wandered from room to room.

We saw a microlith from the stone age. In Roman times, a potter alled Doinius worked in the village, and his (signed) pots have been found far away, just as Samian ware had been found in Harrow

We were able to move coloured wooden blocks to map the growth of the house over the centuries.  Starting life as . wooden structure, the house was faced with fashionable brick in the 18th century, and sash windows were put in.

The Whitefriars glassworks was one of the most famous industries of the area, and we saw examples of Whitefriars work, as well as the interpretations of the local Art College Students

It was possible to visit the rooms in any order, so we rapidly came to an account of Harrow during the Second World War. There was a splendid display of wartime recipe books and cards, as well as posters about allotments and 'digging for Victory, as well as examples of 'make do and mend' dresses and other wartime items.  We suspect that every borough museum has a child's gasmask, which of course slightly distorts the history, since they were never used except for rehearsal.

Next we came to the area with the dressing up box, but also an excellent opportunity to cut up (wooden) vegetables to make a stew. We were especially impressed with some plastic lettuce leaves, which seemed completely real, and with the interesting information.  Did you know that Tudor cooks always cooked fruit before putting it in a pie?  even strawberries?  apparently for health reasons!

This is where the bread oven had been put in the the 17th century, presumably making the bedroom above nice and cosy.

Upstairs there was a room about Metroland.  The most interesting thing here was a display of period maps, so you could lower them sequentially, and see the green fields (1912) vanish under housing in the 1920s and 30s.  The great Kodak factory was in Harrow before moving to Hemel Hempstead.

Also here was a display of 20th century toys, and some clothes and wallpaper of the period.  Another room had some material about the First World War, though it felt a bit detached from other things we had seen,















There was another room upstairs devoted to the Whitefriars glass works.  Who knew that the chandeliers for the Bath Assembly Rooms were made by Whitefriars?  Another local firm was Hamilton's (Paintbrushes;  there was a display case of them)

There was a room with material about Harrow Private School, explaining that the Trustees had set up John Lyon School in the 1876, to fulfil the terms of the original Tudor endowment, since by then there was little free or local about Harrow School.

We know that borough museums always have an area about famous residents.  Mrs Beeton, of Household Management fame, lived in Pinner, so she is recorded here.  But I thought much more interesting was the story of Daniel Dancer, the local 18th century miser, who slept on straw and ate sheep found dead in the fields, and left a derelict house with every cranny stuffed full of coins and treasury bills.  Of course, anyone who has read Our Mutual Friend knows about Dancer, because his was one of the lives which Noddy Boffin pretended to emulate when he was trying to develop a character as a skinflint

In several places, we came across projections of former residents, who described aspects of their lives.  One was the housekeeper to the Archbishops, who led us into an account of how things had been before the Thomas Cranmer handed the property over to Henry VIII

The Great Hall, no longer very 'great' because of alterations over the centuries, was the last part of the Manor House which we looked at, before crossing to the Granary, passing the pillory on the way.  The granary is the Education Area, but open to the public when no schools need it.  It is full of activities and puzzles, so we had a few moments of fun there

Finally, as we left, we past a splendid toposcope set in the ground, with useful distances:  Lambeth Palace would have been seven hours away by horse;  Bentley Priory is four seconds away by Second World War Spitfire;  the Bannister Stadium could be reached in 5.2 minutes if you run a sub-4 minute mile.

And then we left, well pleased with our visit, though the sunshine, and aromatic herbs planted in the raised beds certainly helped the mood.  And, appropriately for an area so changed by the coming of the railways, we headed back to Harrow and Wealdstone Station.

Little Holland House

40 Beeches Avenue

Carshalton  SM5 3LW.

Thursday January 18 2018

Sutton borough, as opposed to Bromley, seems to have a thriving Museum department and today’s visit was an excellent example of their support and enthusiasm for the local heritage. This small gem is easily accessible and really is only a 3 minute walk from Carshalton Beeches station… and there is a bus that goes past the door. 

And quite an interesting one too.

Our visit today was part of a group and with a commentary from one of Sutton’s archivists. I did try to take some notes but my pen died, not from old age but as I later discovered from the cold … and boy was it cold as of course the materials, and the plans used to build the house long pre-date any ideas about environmental impact or insulation or heating other than a central open fire…

Little Holland House was named in honour of Frank Dickinson’s ‘hero’ George Frederic Watts, artist and sculptor, whose home was Little Holland House in the eponymous West London park.  His was the Dower House of the much grander building, some of which remains today. Watts was hero for Frank Dickinson the builder and decorator for this, which is a very personalised family home. There are elements of GF Watts throughout the house but back to Frank Dickinson:

He was born in 1874 to a poor family in Lincolnshire where he was one of seven children, needing to leave school at 13 to help with the family income. He did a variety of jobs including employment in an iron foundry, some woodworking and sessions with  Doultons Tiles'.

As an admirer of not only GF Watts but of the art critic John Ruskin and the Arts and Crafts movement he aspired to an Arts & Crafts House but without any income to speak of or capital. Luckily he ‘won’ a co-operative guild pay-out (a bit like the lottery) and with this bought the land in Carshalton – an area he chose because of the Ruskin associations and because back in 1900 it was still very rural. When the house was built between 1902-4 there were still lavender fields and corn growing.

The exterior of the house, which does not stand out much today, would have been unusual in its day using the 'roughcast' finish beloved of the Arts & Crafts movement. Although lacking in formal training Frank, together with his wife and friends, completed the building, based on his own designs and plans, within two years. By this time Frank had married and not only did his wife give up her trousseau to buy the Cumbrian slate roof tiles but spent her honeymoon in the house sanding the floors. Though there was no mention of this we surmised that Frank was an obsessive, albeit of a harmless nature, and his completer tendencies are seen in every detail of the home, outside and in. From the front gate and letter box to the lampshades and furniture everything adheres to the spirit of William Morris and the Arts & Crafts movement. The furniture pieces; tables, chairs (his and hers), work boxes and chests are all wonderful, well-proportioned and timeless. Some of the wooden carvings used as friezes are attractive but do look amateurish or maybe we are just spoilt after the Grinling Gibbons magnificence of St Paul’s last week?  Mrs Dickinson – Florence – contributed equally with her embroidered curtains and perhaps the lampshades.

Other well-crafted items include the copper friezes round the fireplaces (sadly unlit) and the beds. Overall the proportions of the house are very generous – Dickinson could not abide the meanness of narrow doors so these are wide, as is the staircase round the corner off the dining area.

The front door leads through to a fairly basic kitchen, which is not really part of the tour. The remaining downstairs consists of a back, opening on the garden sitting area and towards the front of the house the dining table – this is on a raised platform and the Dickinsons used to do ‘entertainments’ with their friends. The two rooms can be curtained off but it looks like what it was designed to be: a space for a family but generous enough to be hospitable too.  The fact that millions of households have since ‘broken through’ to join their front and back rooms makes this no less revolutionary as a design in its time. There are charming occasional tables, a sewing box next to Florence’s sewing machine and two fireplaces. The Doulton tiles in the surrounds were apparently a wedding gift for them and Frank crafted copper surrounds to tie in. Over the sitting room fireplace is a triptych painted by Frank, in the spirit of GF Watts. The carving reads ‘Give us this day our daily bread’ but this is no religious picture – pride of place is given to the farm labourer tilling the soil to nurture the wheat, while to right and left are side lined Church, Law & State and Arts and Science respectively. The other downstairs pictures include local views painted at the time – which other visitors to the house recognised.  The family lived here until 1981 though Frank died in 1961 and he certainly quite resented the fact that other houses had gone up in the street. The other very charming pictures by him are of all the other family members at different stages of their life. His son tried to get a gallery to exhibit his work but by the early 20^th Century modernism had very much pushed out Dickinson’s more traditional approach to painting. Another eye-catching picture is a version of the Death of Ananias with such contemporary celebrities as Shaw, Lenin and Marx in the ‘crowd’ – you can see where Dickinson’s allegiances lay. His family are in the foreground. 

The garden is really quite large for the size of house and Sutton are using volunteers to help restore it to a more original design.

The tour continues upstairs where the back main bedroom is the attraction; there are several very beautiful pieces of furniture – wardrobe, chest of drawers and bed, hand embroidered curtains and several period pottery pieces. Over the bed hangs a copy of GF Watts’  'Hope' (who always looks more than a little depressed) and Frank took the colour scheme from there to use in the frieze round the room.

Freeze being the operative word today, we looked into the newly opened front room which had been that of their daughter Isabel, usually known as Julie. Until recently there had been a resident warden at the house and this had been their room but now Sutton are planning to use it as an ‘exhibition’ room.

On display were some plans that Frank had submitted to the council laying out his ideas for the redevelopment of Carshalton town/village centre, but his were not adopted. In the centre was the silver tea set he had made himself (after attending silversmith classes) and presented to his wife for their 25^th wedding anniversary. Theirs was a very enduring relationship; he died in the Sixties and she survived him by some 20 years and eventually moved into a local care home living until 1981.  Their son Gerard then offered the house to Sutton, who with considerable foresight took it over in 1981.

The remaining back bedroom belonged to Gerard and it is suitably modest with its bed and chest (by this time Gerard was assisting/learning woodwork from his father) and a clever use of the corner to hang clothes. The adjacent bathroom was modernised in the Sixties but retains the original copper boiler, which is why characters in period novels tend to say ‘she put on the copper’ – it is essentially an unenclosed uninsulated immersion heater…

Our tour concluded with a very welcome cup of tea and home-made cake as we badly needed to thaw – pretty tea cups on the proper dining table and settle were very welcome. What is impressive here is the love, thought and hard work that the whole family put into building and maintaining a unique family home, which we can admire and visit today.