LONDON A-Z An alphabetical journey through the capital's museums Pollocks Toy Museum
Location: 1 Scala Street, W1T 2HL [map] Open: 10am - 5pm (closed Sundays and bank holidays) Admission: £5 Brief summary: vintage miniature toybox Website:www.pollockstoymuseum.com Time to set aside: about an hour
If you've got kids and want to take them round a museum full of toys, go to the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green. But if you're child-free and would like to remember your own far distant childhood, try Pollocks. The museum's tucked away in the backstreets of Fitzrovia, in the shadow of the BT Tower. Two characterful houses, one Georgian, the other Victorian, have been interlinked and packed with long-past playthings. Every nook and cranny has some childlike treasure crammed inside. It's a bit like Emily's shop from Bagpuss, except that nothing springs to life while you're not watching.
On stepping through the front door, I thought I did a fantastic job of ignoring the Eurovision personality stood chatting to the bloke on the till. Yes, that was definitely, you know... but I politely avoided enquiring about bloc voting and instead passed to the right through the shopkeeper's magic portal. The staircase was lined with glass cases, all the way up to the second floor and beyond, including a selection of American toys (North, South and Central) and some early 20th century card and boardgames. Most looked charmingly old, but a few were disturbingly familiar. I deduced that some of the games my grandparents had got out whenever the young me came to visit were far older than they looked. They don't make ludo boards like that now, but they did then, right down to the tiny mis-shapen dice. As for the archaic Pik-a-Styk box, many's the time I'd played with the clump of painted pointed wooden rods inside.
First room, boys' toys. A case of things to build with (anyone else remember Bayko?), another of shiny metal spacecraft-y robot things, and a third of miniature locomotives. The Ever Ready Electric Train set, for example, included a Morden-bound tube train for 66 shillings and ninepence (battery not included). In another case was a selection of penny toys bashed out in tin for a few marketplace coppers, while rather more traditional was the care-worn rockinghorse resting above the fireplace. Young scientists would no doubt have preferred playing with a twirly gyrospcope, or else some of the fine collection of magic lanterns and zoetropes - for the more visually inclined.
Upstairs again, to a room filled with Mr Pollock's trademark toytheatres. Benjamin Pollock lived in premises on Hoxton Street in pre-trendy Shoreditch, and fed a thriving market in miniature stagecraft during the long years before the dawn of wireless. His renowned toy shop moved from Hoxton to Scala Street in the 1950s, evolving more into a museum, which is why you'll now find Sooty, Sweep and Sue alongside scenes from tiny Shakespeare. I lingered awhile in this room, because I suspected that there were quite a lot of dolls coming up beyond the next set of stairs. I was right.
Wax dolls, rag dolls and china dolls - each no doubt delightful in their own way, but two roomsful all staringforward through glassy beady eyes were quite sufficient to give me the shivers. Rather more endearing were the Edwardian teddy bears, their owners long since passed away, as well as an unthreatening uncensored shelf of jet blackgolliwogs. The intricacy of dolls house design drew some admiring glances, although more from passing adults than passing children. Modern youngsters seemed keen to drag their parents around the museum as quickly as possible (or maybe they assumed there'd have to be a room containing a Wii and PSP eventually, although there wasn't).
The museum contains a wonderfully diverse collection of old toys, both historically and geographically, all with an emphasis on the traditional rather than the perfect. If you're of a certain age there's plenty here to stir the memory (ooh look, a Tri-ang kitchenette) (oh boy, a Chad Valley Give-a-Show Projector). And there's a rather nice toyshop at the end, which I suspect I'll be returning to before Christmas in search of unusual stocking fillers. As it was I left Pollocks feeling unexpectedly old, and yet also delightfully young. by tube: Goodge Street
If you've got kids and want to take them round a museum full of toys, go to the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green. But if you're child-free and would like to remember your own far distant childhood, try Pollocks. The museum's tucked away in the backstreets of Fitzrovia, in the shadow of the BT Tower. Two characterful houses, one Georgian, the other Victorian, have been interlinked and packed with long-past playthings. Every nook and cranny has some childlike treasure crammed inside. It's a bit like Emily's shop from Bagpuss, except that nothing springs to life while you're not watching.
First room, boys' toys. A case of things to build with (anyone else remember Bayko?), another of shiny metal spacecraft-y robot things, and a third of miniature locomotives. The Ever Ready Electric Train set, for example, included a Morden-bound tube train for 66 shillings and ninepence (battery not included). In another case was a selection of penny toys bashed out in tin for a few marketplace coppers, while rather more traditional was the care-worn rocking horse resting above the fireplace. Young scientists would no doubt have preferred playing with a twirly gyrospcope, or else some of the fine collection of magic lanterns and zoetropes - for the more visually inclined.
Wax dolls, rag dolls and china dolls - each no doubt delightful in their own way, but two roomsful all staring forward through glassy beady eyes were quite sufficient to give me the shivers. Rather more endearing were the Edwardian teddy bears, their owners long since passed away, as well as an unthreatening uncensored shelf of jet black golliwogs. The intricacy of dolls house design drew some admiring glances, although more from passing adults than passing children. Modern youngsters seemed keen to drag their parents around the museum as quickly as possible (or maybe they assumed there'd have to be a room containing a Wii and PSP eventually, although there wasn't).
