Turn Back Time
I watch very little television and would probably have completely missed BBC1's 'Turn Back Time - The High Street' if colleagues of mine weren't involved in the associated tour. For all that I'm surely biased because it ties so closely into what I do for a living, it's an absolutely wonderful programme.
The basic premise is that several empty shops in a dying town centre have been returned to purpose for several historically crucial businesses (namely Butcher, Baker, Ironmonger, Grocer and Dressmaker) and given over to families to run as if in a particular historical period. Each week, the historical period moves on (it started in the Victorian period, moved to Edwardian, then the 1930's and most recently to WWII. The Sixties and Seventies are yet to come.)
Okay, it's a reality show, but thankfully it's not a horrible 'fish out of water' affair. The participants all have at least some background in their assigned trade, but it's absolutely fascinating to see them struggle with some of the 'rules of the period'. A prime example is the Bakers - she has the baking expertise, but has to sit back and watch her business manager husband struggle for three periods before gender roles change enough to allow her to bake bread. Another is the blacksmith who watches the value of his genuine skill get steadily eroded by the advent of mass production. Star of the show is the son of the Butcher who starts off having seen his father's shop put out of business by out of town supermarkets, but who takes to the high street like he was born to it.
Most fascinating is the fact that many of the townsfolk have been involved as well. There's the obvious involvement of schools (any local school history co-ordinator who didn't seize this opportunity with both hands deserves to be sacked), but there's also a group of locals who have supposedly agreed to buy their weekly shopping only from the period shops. For all that I can't imagine this was strictly adhered to unless they'd previously laid in a serious stockpile of things like toothpaste, detergent and bin liners, they still provide a wonderful vox pop of the shopping experience of each period.
Each period/week leads up to some kind of festival (market day, a wedding, Empire Day, VE day), but usually includes some kind of challenge/obstacle. The most affecting of these was in the Edwardian period when suddenly all of the 'men folk' were conscripted and taken off to war and Mrs. Baker's (historical awareness fuelled) reaction to the conscription of her 15 year old son was genuinely moving. And then, for all that they'd already been struggling with a full team, the women and remaining children just got on with it and worked themselves ragged to keep the businesses running. Now, they were actually only without their men for a day or two, but you still got a glimpse of how much the First World War affected communities robbed of their men, how women readily stepped into the gap and how outraged they were when the men came back and expected the women to meekly step into the background again. It's a huge subject that could easily take a six hour series in its own right, but I'm very impressed at how concisely the programme managed to establish "This here right now is proof of why it's shameful women were denied the vote."
As well as each of the traders being interesting, the children come across really well too. I've already mentioned the 14 year old Butcher's Boy (who loved it when his father was conscripted for WW1 because he was left in charge of the shop and did a brilliant job, but who positively seethed different child labour laws meant that his WW2 conscripted father was replaced by a Ministry assigned woman butcher), but the grocer's daughter has also provided value-for-viewing. Most of all, it's the local children whose comments I've enjoyed. Sure, there's been the "I'd die without my DS!" and "This food is minging!" standards, but there's also been several "I don't like it, but I think that's because I'm not used to it" kind of comments which demonstrate a level of insight, understanding and empathy that makes this particular historical interpreter feel warm and fuzzy.
This week's programme (World War 2 period) has genuinely moved me (and not just because of the end of programme/period redundancy of the Ironmonger who I'd really liked). The role of each shop has developed from period to period (and has been largely refitted each time, which leaves me in awe of the production team) and the Victorian Baker has developed into a 1940's 'British Restaurant'. One of their tasks was to provide community meals each day and one of these was for a group of pensioners, some of whom lived through the period. As the series moves more and more into living memory it starts getting people who can genuinely say "I remember this" and that's pure historian gold. There was the man who said "I haven't eaten braised sheep tongue since the war and it's still delicious!", the table full of elderly people who simply gave a "we remember" shrug when given a plate of bread an an apology that there was no butter, and there was the woman (one of the regular shoppers, in fact) who had encountered a school friend she hadn't seen for 70 years.
Old people are great, but are probably also the reason I avoid doing live interpretation of a period in living memory. No matter how much reading and research you do as a live interpreter, sooner or later you are going to encounter someone who knows more than you do and often as not they'd rather expose you as a fraud than engage with you. (For example, I encountered a medieval musicologist at Dover Castle this year who started off sneery, but who I won round through erudite and salacious gossip concerning certain C12th troubadours. We had a wonderfully bitchy fishwife conversation that she genuinely enjoyed and it is entirely beside the point that I'd only just that morning read up on the troubadour in question.) Thing is, old people have an insight that no amount of reading is going to allow you to match and, frankly, I'd rather listen to them reminisce about their experiences than presume to tell them anything about a period that they actually lived through.
There's a school of thought that history is moving faster and faster. If that's true, then some of our finest historical authorities are sitting lonely in a care home and getting far fewer visitors than they'd enjoy. A couple of years ago I was temping for a company that installed "I've fallen and I can't get up" alarms and I met a lot of people with wonderful memories and experience. For all that I also met a lot of people with dementia and retain a horror at the thought of losing my mind, a thing I definitely learned is that old people love to be asked to reminisce. Want an easy way to make someone else feel good and have your mind genuinely blown? Go and ask the oldest person you can find to tell you about their childhood. And I think I've just stumbled on my 'winter slow work time' project.
The basic premise is that several empty shops in a dying town centre have been returned to purpose for several historically crucial businesses (namely Butcher, Baker, Ironmonger, Grocer and Dressmaker) and given over to families to run as if in a particular historical period. Each week, the historical period moves on (it started in the Victorian period, moved to Edwardian, then the 1930's and most recently to WWII. The Sixties and Seventies are yet to come.)
Okay, it's a reality show, but thankfully it's not a horrible 'fish out of water' affair. The participants all have at least some background in their assigned trade, but it's absolutely fascinating to see them struggle with some of the 'rules of the period'. A prime example is the Bakers - she has the baking expertise, but has to sit back and watch her business manager husband struggle for three periods before gender roles change enough to allow her to bake bread. Another is the blacksmith who watches the value of his genuine skill get steadily eroded by the advent of mass production. Star of the show is the son of the Butcher who starts off having seen his father's shop put out of business by out of town supermarkets, but who takes to the high street like he was born to it.
Most fascinating is the fact that many of the townsfolk have been involved as well. There's the obvious involvement of schools (any local school history co-ordinator who didn't seize this opportunity with both hands deserves to be sacked), but there's also a group of locals who have supposedly agreed to buy their weekly shopping only from the period shops. For all that I can't imagine this was strictly adhered to unless they'd previously laid in a serious stockpile of things like toothpaste, detergent and bin liners, they still provide a wonderful vox pop of the shopping experience of each period.
Each period/week leads up to some kind of festival (market day, a wedding, Empire Day, VE day), but usually includes some kind of challenge/obstacle. The most affecting of these was in the Edwardian period when suddenly all of the 'men folk' were conscripted and taken off to war and Mrs. Baker's (historical awareness fuelled) reaction to the conscription of her 15 year old son was genuinely moving. And then, for all that they'd already been struggling with a full team, the women and remaining children just got on with it and worked themselves ragged to keep the businesses running. Now, they were actually only without their men for a day or two, but you still got a glimpse of how much the First World War affected communities robbed of their men, how women readily stepped into the gap and how outraged they were when the men came back and expected the women to meekly step into the background again. It's a huge subject that could easily take a six hour series in its own right, but I'm very impressed at how concisely the programme managed to establish "This here right now is proof of why it's shameful women were denied the vote."
As well as each of the traders being interesting, the children come across really well too. I've already mentioned the 14 year old Butcher's Boy (who loved it when his father was conscripted for WW1 because he was left in charge of the shop and did a brilliant job, but who positively seethed different child labour laws meant that his WW2 conscripted father was replaced by a Ministry assigned woman butcher), but the grocer's daughter has also provided value-for-viewing. Most of all, it's the local children whose comments I've enjoyed. Sure, there's been the "I'd die without my DS!" and "This food is minging!" standards, but there's also been several "I don't like it, but I think that's because I'm not used to it" kind of comments which demonstrate a level of insight, understanding and empathy that makes this particular historical interpreter feel warm and fuzzy.
This week's programme (World War 2 period) has genuinely moved me (and not just because of the end of programme/period redundancy of the Ironmonger who I'd really liked). The role of each shop has developed from period to period (and has been largely refitted each time, which leaves me in awe of the production team) and the Victorian Baker has developed into a 1940's 'British Restaurant'. One of their tasks was to provide community meals each day and one of these was for a group of pensioners, some of whom lived through the period. As the series moves more and more into living memory it starts getting people who can genuinely say "I remember this" and that's pure historian gold. There was the man who said "I haven't eaten braised sheep tongue since the war and it's still delicious!", the table full of elderly people who simply gave a "we remember" shrug when given a plate of bread an an apology that there was no butter, and there was the woman (one of the regular shoppers, in fact) who had encountered a school friend she hadn't seen for 70 years.
Old people are great, but are probably also the reason I avoid doing live interpretation of a period in living memory. No matter how much reading and research you do as a live interpreter, sooner or later you are going to encounter someone who knows more than you do and often as not they'd rather expose you as a fraud than engage with you. (For example, I encountered a medieval musicologist at Dover Castle this year who started off sneery, but who I won round through erudite and salacious gossip concerning certain C12th troubadours. We had a wonderfully bitchy fishwife conversation that she genuinely enjoyed and it is entirely beside the point that I'd only just that morning read up on the troubadour in question.) Thing is, old people have an insight that no amount of reading is going to allow you to match and, frankly, I'd rather listen to them reminisce about their experiences than presume to tell them anything about a period that they actually lived through.
There's a school of thought that history is moving faster and faster. If that's true, then some of our finest historical authorities are sitting lonely in a care home and getting far fewer visitors than they'd enjoy. A couple of years ago I was temping for a company that installed "I've fallen and I can't get up" alarms and I met a lot of people with wonderful memories and experience. For all that I also met a lot of people with dementia and retain a horror at the thought of losing my mind, a thing I definitely learned is that old people love to be asked to reminisce. Want an easy way to make someone else feel good and have your mind genuinely blown? Go and ask the oldest person you can find to tell you about their childhood. And I think I've just stumbled on my 'winter slow work time' project.