TEACHING AT SAREHOLE MILL (OFTEN KNOWN AS TOLKIEN'S MILL): 'THE SAREHOLE MOP'...

 Teaching at Birmingham’s Sarehole Mill, often called Tolkien's Mill: 

THE SAREHOLE MOP…

PENCIL SKETCH OF SAREHOLE MILL BY PAUL BRADDON (1864-1937)...

ABOVE & BELOW: VINTAGE IMAGES OF THE MILL...

Introduction…

My colleague Elfyn Morris built up some fine teaching sessions at Sarehole Mill in Hall Green, Birmingham, following his teaching stint at the old Science Museum in the city centre. I did cover a couple of his sessions when he was unavailable which offered me the opportunity to learn more about the workings of the mill.

Richard Eaves from Sarehole Farm bought the mill in 1727, which at that time was known as Biddle’s Mill, named after its builder but the Eaves family would let the mill to tenants, rather than actually running it themselves. In fact Matthew Boulton was once a tenant, before moving to Handsworth to set up his famous Soho factory.

SAREHOLE FARM...

Eaves likely rebuilt the mill between 1764-68 and it was used for the grinding of edge tools, as well as for grinding corn.

However, in the 1850s a steam engine was installed to increase the power of the north wheel and that installation offered an idea which was at the heart of this role-play session involving four members of the Schools Liaison Department’s staff.

THE MILL WHEN WE WORKED THERE...

Elfyn eventually became the lynch pin of the sessions as Mr Taylor, the mill owner although Aston Hall’s Ailyse Hancock had been the original link person. Jan Pick, the fine teacher from Blakesley Hall played the part of a vicar’s wife and she was responsible for the activity of corn-dolly making and also involving her group of children in conversation about the mill and maybe spreading one or two rumours about the miller…

THE MILLPOND...

The baker was played by several members of staff over time but ultimately, the Head of Department Jan Anderson would assume the part, although following her earlier eagerness to get down to the mill and start, it did appear that her enthusiasm waned rather quickly…

I played the part of Joseph Briscoe, the much maligned miller, a character who was subjected to several rumours during each two-hour session. Elfyn, Jan Pick and I took part more often than anyone else but we were pressed into using a succession of different bakers, including art teacher Trish Peate and two of our office secretaries! 

AT THE TOMB OF THE REAL JOSEPH BRISCOE IN A CHURCHYARD NEARBY...

However, the Sarehole Mop would be a fascinating session for Year 6 children mainly, all in role as characters who really did live in the area in the 1850s. Jan Pick had done some remarkable research to find out about individuals in the locality during Victorian times and she played the part of the vicar’s wife so well that I was a little in fear of her…

The set-up… 

The visiting children were hoping to get a job at the mill by visiting the Mop, some being shown around the mill as prospective workers in milling, some learning the baking trade and the others learning the skills of corn-dolly making.

The children and their accompanying adults were herded into the yard and welcomed by Mr Taylor, his top-hat and tails looking rather splendid. After Jan Anderson was called over to meet her prospective bakers whilst sweeping the yard, Jan Pick was called from the mill to be introduced as the local vicar’s wife. I would be loitering on a deck at the rear of the building overlooking the millpond awaiting my cue, when a frustrated Mr Taylor would yell for me, but I would purposely take a while to emerge… 

TRISH PEATE WITH BROOM, JAN PICK IN RED & ME LOOKING RUSTIC...

One morning, whilst I was tarrying there, a kingfisher dropped into the millpond and caught a fish, something I had never before seen live. I managed to film another one diving into the pond later that same week, which I still have on a VHS video tape.

Sarehole Mill: The Wait…

Urban life rattles

On commuter route;

Recycling bins resound

To crashing glass

And profanities testify 

To some family dispute.

Pond life hides

In residential bustle;

Heron stands sentinel,

Testing a firmer perch

As mallards mingle

And coots hustle.

Predator life awaits

Above peaceful pool;

Kingfisher hesitates,

Alert on slim bough

Then snatches prey

From waters murky and cool.

Pete Ray

Sarehole Mill, waiting, dressed as a Victorian miller, for a class of children to arrive to begin a role-play session: The Sarehole Mop…

I would lurch into the yard carrying a sack of flour on my back and Mr Taylor would usually scold me for being sluggish but I would often use an accent in reply, either Brummie, Yorkshire, Cornish or even Scottish when I responded to him and Elfyn would have to stifle laughter sometimes. Trouble was, I had to keep up the accent for the whole two hours of a session… He would then mention that there was some disquiet amongst the locals in the yard because it was felt that when poorer folks gathered up any unwanted corn from the edges of a harvested field, known as gleanings and they were brought to me for milling, I didn’t return an equal weight of flour to them. 

ENTERING THE YARD...

I would argue that I was allowed to keep a small amount of that flour as payment but it was upon my discretion how much I kept, which was usually a small cupful. I needed, I said, to feed up Albert my pig, which would be shown in the local show in order to win a money prize. Mr Taylor told me then that surely my pig was big enough already, having knocked down one of the prospective worker’s garden fences. I was then goaded into agreeing to repair the fence, even though I complained that clearly the fence hadn’t been erected strongly enough in the first place. 

LOVED THE SCYTHE...

I KIND OF KNEW MY PLACE.
ONLY I DIDN'T...

One morning, I told Mr Taylor, “I am entering my pig in the local show…” He retorted, smiling unpleasantly, “You are entering your pig, Briscoe?” Suddenly, all the adults present fell about laughing, except of course the vicar’s wife, the baker and me. I recall frowning, not realising the meaning of Elfyn’s naughty interpretation of ‘entering my pig’… He explained over lunch. Thanks for that…    

BEING QUESTIONED BY MR TAYLOR...

However, Joseph Briscoe had been asked by Mr Taylor to prepare a sack of the very best flour for his rather unwell wife and I was told to fetch it and show him, before placing it in a room near the mill’s gates, ready for collection. He then saw the label round the neck of the sack, which read: ‘Mrs Taylor, The Hall’ and he was suitably impressed that I had been learning to write and I explained that the vicar had been teaching me, something which Jan Pick, as the vicar’s wife corroborated. The green ink had been given to me by the vicar, I told him…

DISPLAYING THE GOOD SACK...

PROUD OF MY LABEL...

I took the sack to its dropping off place out of sight and each of the three groups of children then went off with their leaders: the corn-dolly maker, the baker and the miller… 

OFF TO THE BAKEHOUSE...

SACK OVER SHOULDER...

The activities…     

I would take my group into the mill and explain how the sacks of corn were hoisted by a pulley system linked to a turning waterwheel, up to the top floor of the building, where it was drier and of course the corn was less likely to be nibbled at by rats and mice.

CHECKING THE HOIST...

We would then go upstairs to the middle floor where I could release water from the pond and set one of the wheels turning, which was always a real bonus for the children. We would talk about the millstones, the dressing of them and see how the corn fell from the top level to be ground up by those stones, activated by the power from the turning of the mill’s wheel…

Then I would talk about the safety of the wheel and confessed that a worker called Edward Smith had once trapped and subsequently lost an arm in the turning wheel as he tried to repair it. Another worker had turned the steam engine on, not realising his colleague was there… I was blamed for the injury of course and since that time, I had been forced to put more safety measures in place, I explained. 

We would look out onto the millpond next but almost every day there was a heron standing on the far edge of the water, which some of the children reckoned was a fake, until of course it moved… 

AH, THE HERON...

One day, whilst eating my lunch on the deck, the heron snaffled a mallard chick and rose towards me with its prey in its beak and I stood and yelled at it and waved it away. The female mallard was noisily distressed but the heron turned in flight and disappeared over the trees to another perch along the River Cole. Amazing…

On the top floor it really did feel warmer and drier, hence storing sacks of corn there but I had placed a stuffed rat on one of the beams, which we had to pass beneath to descend the staircase near to where the vicar’s wife would be quietly making corn dollies with her group of children. I would curse the rat and start to bellow for the mill’s cat to appear but one day a loutish lad told everyone that it was actually a stuffed rat…

Instead of arguing with him, I said nothing because when we reached the yard at ground level, having carefully managed the stairs, I stopped my group, called the doubting lad forward and pointed to a grassy area near the bakehouse, where I had chucked away some crushed corn from the previous afternoon. There, a crow and a rat were racing round and round in a circle in their desperation to forage the scraps of cereal… 

The lad said nothing and I didn’t have to… 

A MILLER'S LIFE IS A TOUGH ONE...

My group had all tried out a small model of a pair of millstones, turned by a handle, which worked very well and was a fine representation of what happened on a larger scale within the mill. The kids were amazed at how flour could be produced in such a way but I did tell them something else rather important. 

I explained to them that although I usually took a cup of flour from most people’s gleanings, if I considered a person unpleasant or rude, I would take more than a cupful and I showed the pupils what was essentially a hidden chamber pot. The kids were shocked, certainly, yet I asked them to say nothing about it to Mr Taylor, although they would need to know about it, should they get a job at the mill. 

I said that my pig was special to me and that there was quite a resemblance between it and my wife. Indeed, I would remark that I had mistaken the pig for my wife several times in conversation and had wondered why I hadn’t received a reply from her…  

Clearly I had to make sure my group doubted my honesty and subsequently felt that I was a bit of a scoundrel…

In the yard, I would show them the tail-race, along which used water would run off towards the River Cole, by which time a shouting Mr Taylor could be heard, whilst he rang a bell in distress. He had discovered that his wife’s sack of fine flour (no chalk or ground-up animal bones as additives in Sarehole’s best flour) had been vandalised…

And there would be trouble…

The investigation…

There were of course two sacks, which Elfyn would switch whilst the three groups were otherwise engaged. The second sack looked like it had been damaged, or dragged through a hedge and the green ink on the label had been smudged. During the activities, Jan Pick, Jan Anderson and I would send a child, possibly two, on errands to the other groups, meaning that those pupils would have been crossing the mill’s yard alone, perhaps to ask for a piece of ribbon, or to collect some salt but in my case I would send a pot of flour to the bakery for the baker’s perusal and opinion about its quality. A female member of the school’s staff, predominantly the class teacher usually played the part of Esther Smith and we made sure that she too was sent across the yard…  

THE DAMAGED SACK APPEARS...

We were all ushered into what was essentially Elfyn’s teaching room to investigate who had damaged the sack of flour and the children were generally totally shocked to be considered culprits. Elfyn conducted the absorbing debate and would suggest that the vandal must have been someone who had had an opportunity to damage the sack. 

After he had asked whether anyone had been alone in the yard during the previous hour or so, the penny would drop and a few children began to name those they knew had been sent on errands, eventually naming their teacher, Esther Smith too. All of the suspects, usually four of five of them, were made to sit in a row upon a bench and indeed, all of them would appear mightily guilty. There was quiet in the room as Elfyn tried to get the children to think of clues which might identify the culprit, often having to explain the offence again, until, eventually, a spark of realisation would force a child to suggest that whoever had touched the sack would likely have green ink on their fingers…

Elfyn would be delighted with that suggestion and I would always notice at that point that the suspects would actually check their fingers surreptitiously… 

All except the suspects were then asked to show their hands first and the two Jans and I would check them for green marks, finding none. Then each child suspect was asked in turn to show their hands too but of course no green ink was visible. It was amazing how those pupils looked so relieved, despite knowing full well that they were blameless!

Finally, Esther Smith was asked to show her hands but despite her unwillingness, grudgingly she would open her fingers to reveal the green ink Elfyn had painted on her fingers earlier in the session. The gasps from the children were palpable, who totally believed that their teacher had vandalised the sack but then Esther turned on me, as she knew she was expected to…  

She admitted messing up the sack as revenge, for it had been her husband, Edward Smith, whose had lost an arm in the waterwheel accident described above and he was unable to work. I had then caught him poaching and had reported him to the authorities, so that he had been convicted and sent away on a prison ship to Australia.  Obviously I would react to Esther and argue that stealing was an offence but sometimes, the teacher and I would have a stand-up row, which left the children awestruck.

Esther would then accuse me of taking more than a cupful of flour from the poor folks’ gleanings, which I of course denied but Elfyn, as Mr Taylor, picked up on that and questioned me about it. I reiterated that I would take a cupful of flour only and I would go and fetch the cup from my table to show him but Mr Taylor would then ask my group of prospective millers if anyone could shed some more light on the revelation. One of the children would always tell him that I had a larger pot too which I sometimes used. The child was told to fetch it and I was scolded and made to explain…

I said at first that it was my chamber pot, used when I needed to pee but despite my claims of innocence I was found guilty of taking more flour than was fair. However that wasn’t a crime, whilst Esther had committed one, as had her husband… Morality was rearing its head…

The children generally sided with Esther, of course they did, so she was allowed to go free, apart from a scolding by Mr Taylor but when I explained that my pig needed feeding up for the county show and that some of the farmhands had poor manners when they brought their gleanings to me, Elfyn really lost his rag because I was favouring certain poor folks and not others. However, Jan Pick, as the vicar’s wife felt that perhaps because I hadn’t actually broken the law, should my pig Albert win the money prize at the show, I should use it to have a small school built nearby and call it the Joseph Briscoe School…

FROM MILLER TO PHILANTHROPIST...

I had no choice but to agree and thus would become a philanthropist of sorts…

However, one day, not one of the children in my group would give me away, leaving Elfyn totally helpless to pursue his line of enquiry… 

I was thoroughly amused though…

JAN PICK FANS MY RUSTIC ODOUR...

Signing on… 

The children were then divided into two groups so that they could use a pen and ink to sign on as workers. The two Jans dealt with that in one room, whilst Elfyn and I demonstrated a rat-trap in the other room, which really caught the children’s imagination. We used a piece of wood to activate the trap which of course made us all jump.

CATCHING QUOITS...

We then chatted about the fact that we had been in the army together, me as an infantryman and he as an officer, of course… He would say to me: “Do you remember the soldier with one leg called Thomas?” 

I would reply: “Yes, but what was his other leg called?”

Daft but hilarious…

If Esther Smith came into the room I would often snarl at her, sometimes starting an argument with her again…

There were toys and games on display in the room too and we would demonstrate and get the kids to experiment with the quoits game and the cup and ball, which I would usually do successfully with my first or second attempt. That really irritated Elfyn but I had actually practised the mechanics of it each morning…

CUP & BALL...

Leaving the mill…

Elfyn would end the session in the yard and the children were given their corn dollies to take away, the bread they had made and also some of the flour they had ground with me…

CHECK OUT THOSE CORN DOLLIES...

NOTE THE MILLER'S ARMS ARE FOLDED...

Leaving our roles, we often chatted to the children and staff before their transport arrived…

A RARE MOMENT OF RELAXATION WITH ELFYN, JAN PICK & TRISH...

Paul Husted…

Paul taught at St Mary & St John School in Erdington and he was my son Jamie’s under-15 football manager for Boldmere Falcons, along with his own son Tom. Most of the team were rugby players from King Edward’s Grammar School, Aston but Paul actually took his Year 6 groups to experience the Sarehole Mop.

JAMIE RECEIVES AN AWARD FROM PAUL HUSTED...

The Sunday morning after he had visited the mill, he spoke to me about it at a soccer match and professed that the two hour experience with the Schools Liaison team at Sarehole Mill taught the children more about the Victorian era than a whole term’s work provided in school could…

BOLDMERE FALCONS: JAMIE & HIS MATE TOM HUSTED ARE BACK ROW, FAR RIGHT...

That said it all, really…

TEACHING ABOUT ANCIENT EGYPT IN BIRMINGHAM'S MUSEUM & ART GALLERY...

 Teaching about ancient Egypt in Birmingham’s Museum & Art Gallery…

Introduction…

This would prove to be the most popular session I offered through my time working in the Schools Liaison Department. At first, I used a collection of artefacts kindly lent to me by Phil Watson from the Archaeology Department and I was able to find a space to work in next to an old stagecoach on the wooden floor of the Local History Gallery, off the Great Charles Street entrance.

I would also teach in the Industrial Gallery, which formed the approach to the Edwardian Tea Room and thus from about 11am onwards, the area would be busy with visitors making their way to find refreshments. Not a good place for teaching, I will admit…

I would move on again to Galleries 32 and 33 but finally, I was allowed to work in a room opposite the mess-room used by the security staff. This was also the place where our schools’ loans boxes had been moved to and thus dispensed from, next to the lift entrance on floor three. 

At least I could decorate my walls with posters and also with some children’s work sent to me by obliging teachers. However, the permanent Egyptian Gallery, numbered 34, was one of the most visited in the Museum, for the artefacts on display really did amaze.

DEATH MASK IN GALLERY 34...

CANOPIC JAR...

A worksheet was essential for classes doing their own thing during visits and also of course for the groups I was teaching, so that they could see the Gallery as well as handle some artefacts. A whole day visit for taught groups was advisable, so the lunch area became a busy place. Eventually of course, the Local History Gallery became the Learning Centre and was refurbished as a lunch area, which led through to classrooms within the Museum itself. 

LIMESTONE BUST, GALLERY 34.
APPARENTLY VERY VALUABLE...

LOVE THE BES POTS...

The Egyptian loans boxes were also highly sought after by schools and were generally used as follow-up aids for children who had experienced the Gallery and also the handling session.

Eventually, my artefacts were incorporated into activities concerning an Egyptian school day, when teachers and their children were all in role and I devised the activities for these visits. The sessions took place in the very public Industrial Gallery however and we were constantly gawped at by the general public.

I also used the artefacts to support Black History Month at one time, basing the storyline on ancient Nubia.

Eventually of course, I ran many Egyptian sessions with me in role, playing the part of a scribe, inventing the name Thoth-hotep and dressing in a white tunic, a black wig and wearing eye make-up. One group of kids asked me what I looked like really and I said that they wouldn’t recognise me if they saw me. They were confident that they would…

THOTH-HOTEP...

As it happened, on that day, my afternoon group had cancelled for some reason and so, after lunch I walked into the Egyptian Gallery as myself and strolled amongst the group of children who had been certain that they would recognise me. No-one did, not even the teacher, or her support staff. Eventually, I spoke to a lad that I had joked with earlier in the day, referring to what we had laughed about during the morning and he swung round to face me, demanding to know how I knew about that…

I smiled and said: “I thought you said you would know me without the costume and make-up?” Suddenly he and the class realised who I was and they were totally shocked, as well as being disappointed, I guess…  

Making Up For Egypt…

I would sit

In a tight space.

No natural light

Endearing the day.

Thigh-length white gown, obtusely 

Tied with gold braid, loosely

At the waist

And tired gaze peered into a small mirror,

Cosmetics in hand, mind contrite…

I would brush

Eyelids with green:

Unnatural sight, 

Preparing the day.

Black liner, eye-paint sinuously

Daubed with bold sweeps, selflessly

With kohl’s sheen

And keen gaze peered at a scribe’s face,

Wig in hand, senses alight…

Pete Ray

HOLDING WOODEN DEATH MASK & SECTION OF CARTONNAGE COFFIN CASING...

Mornings spent making up my eyes to appear as though I was an ancient Egyptian scribe: ‘Thoth-hotep’, ready for Egyptian handling sessions in role at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery…

Good days… 

The artefacts…     

The artefacts used in my handling sessions included amulets, including an eye of Horus, a scarab beetle, a figure of Bes and a djed pillar. Everyday items, like a make-up pot which had the remnants of kohl eye-liner still in the bottom of it, a wooden headrest, a bronze mirror, a flint arrowhead and several other vessels were also passed round. And there were funerary items, too. 

WOODEN HEAD-REST...

The funerary items of course were the star objects: shabtis (models of workers for use in the afterlife), a painted wooden death mask, a piece of painted cartonnage from a coffin lid, the skull of a mummy (with red hair and a few broken teeth), half of a skull (with jawbone and teeth) and a mummified foot, which had four toes, toe nails, and an achilles tendon erupting from the heel. And later during my time at the Museum there was a mummified baby’s hand too, which I could not pass round as it was so delicate and tiny…  

DEATH MASK...

HALF-SKULL...

I also used some replica statuettes to illustrate what some of the gods looked like but the children were always made aware that any items I didn’t pass round were not genuine ancient artefacts anyway…

MUMMIFIED FOOT...

CHILD'S HAND...

A quick referral back to my article about teaching at Aston Hall is very relevant here, for the rather difficult secondary groups sent out to me by Perry Common Comprehensive School, also came to the Museum & Art Gallery for Egyptian handling sessions. Those took place in the Industrial Gallery, containing a lot of ceramics but as mentioned earlier, that was also the route taken by members of the public heading for the Edwardian Tea-Room… 

Instead of leaving the funerary items until last, covered over on my teaching table, I revealed the skulls and foot first, which totally terrified the pupils into stunned silence, then caused interest, then real fascination and finally enjoyment… 

One other story about teaching secondary pupils occurred one day when art teacher Wendy Roberts and I were sharing visiting groups from a school somewhere in Warwickshire. She came to my teaching room with her group and I gave her mine but as she took my group away she simply bellowed to them in her slightly Cockney accent: “Right, are you ready to see the tits and willies..?” It went very quiet…

Only later did we find out that the daughter of Birmingham’s Chief Education Officer at the time was in one of the groups… Oops…

The remarkable thing about the Egyptian handling sessions was that nothing was ever badly damaged, just a few minor chips occurring on one or two of the faience amulets during more than twenty years of use. 

The role-play sessions…

The problem I had when I chose to do many sessions in role as Thoth-hotep, was how to include the artefacts into a scribe’s ancient lifestyle but in truth, the story evolved as time went on. Clearly, the everyday objects were easy to bring into the presentation but the funerary objects posed a bit of a problem. I decided to explain that my wife and daughter had died some months back and a good many of their precious belongings had been stolen from where they had been buried and what I had on my table were the remnants from the tomb. I said that damage had been done to their mummified bodies, as the valuable amulets placed between layers of bandages had been sought and stolen. 

Hence, the skull was that of my wife and the half-skull and foot were those of my daughter.

CLOSE-UP OF THE HALF-SKULL...

HALF-SKULL & FOOT...

Eventually, after many sessions with schools had been completed, one child’s hand was raised and a girl asked me how my wife and daughter had died, which I hadn’t prepared an answer for. So, on the hoof I simply said that one day whilst I was working as a scribe for the Pharaoh they had gone out on the River Nile to catch fish by casting a net over the side of our papyrus reed boat. Unfortunately, my daughter had tried to copy her mother’s action and leaned over the side of the boat to help drop the net into the river but she had tumbled into the murky waters.

My wife, despite the fact that she could not move about in deep water (I didn’t use the word ‘swim’) then suddenly plunged into the river to try to save our daughter but it had been in vain and both had perished.  

I thought no more about the effect this revelation might have on groups visiting the Museum but nevertheless incorporated the story into my two-hour session. However,  some weeks later two odd things happened. One has to remember that although I met visiting classes in my costume and walked them to my teaching room, I wore my lanyard, which revealed that I was Peter Ray, Museum Teacher. I would then tell the children that when I removed my lanyard, I would attempt to become the Egyptian scribe Thoth-hotep but when I replaced the lanyard round my neck, either if a fire-alarm sounded, or the end of the session had come, I was Pete the teacher again…

So, when an adult with a class of children was leaving my room one day and said how sorry she was that my wife and daughter had drowned and then told me that she hoped that my life would improve over time, I simply stood and stared at her in some surprise as she departed through my doorway…

THE SEATED SCRIBE, WHICH THOTH-HOTEP WAS BASED UPON.
IT WAS THEREFORE AMAZING TO SEE THIS STATUE IN THE EGYPTIAN MUSEUM, CAIRO, IN 2009 AND 2011...

Then another school brought three classes to experience the handling session in role. Two came on one day, so that one group handled the artefacts, whilst the other used my worksheets in the Egyptian Gallery, then they changed over after lunch. The third class visited on the following day and worked with me in the morning, then went off to use the gallery after lunch. However, when that third class arrived, an adult helper who had been with the two groups on the previous day, wanted a quick word with me…

She said that a teaching assistant working with one of those two classes had been sobbing uncontrollably on the coach en route back to school because she had been overcome with grief about what had happened to my wife and child in the River Nile… I was amazed… She had totally believed that I was an ancient Egyptian scribe and widower, over 2,000 years old, despite the fact that I had explained about my use of the lanyard and indeed, had spoken in Brummie English…

SHABTI, HEAD-REST, DEATH MASK & CARTONNAGE COFFIN CASING...

The scarab beetle discussion…

Discussing the scarab (dung) beetle one day caused me one of my worst teaching moments…

As Thoth-hotep, I believed that just as a dung beetle rolls up dung and pushes it backwards along the ground to use as a provision of food, so a magical scarab, as the god Ra, pushed the sun backwards across the sky and buried it at sunset. I had just spoken to the children about that and one lad, who was a big lad, very bright and clearly had a good sense of humour suddenly raised his hand. He said, quite rightly, that a beetle didn’t push the sun across the sky, for the earth was round and turned. I pretended that he was some kind of heretic and told him that the earth was flat, which was why we dared not sail too far upon the seas, in case the boat dropped off the edge into nothingness.

He told me that I was wrong and that the world was turning round. I retorted that he and I were totally still and suggested he looked at his feet to check. He was brilliant to argue the point but suddenly broke down into tears… I was horrified! He had been so brave to make and argue his point that it seemed he would handle the debate, which he had, until he saw that I was not going to believe his modern knowledge and then he had lost his confidence.

An adult then explained quietly to him that I was in role as someone from long ago but when I returned to being Pete the teacher at the end of my session, I went over to him and told him that he was the only child ever to question my ideas as an Egyptian, shook his hand and asked the other children to give him a round of applause. I explained that as a man from ancient times, I would not be happy to be told something daft like the earth was round, for I would keep falling over… He laughed loudly and we parted amicably… 

How wonderful that he had been prepared to stand up for the truth, despite some nutter wearing a black wig and eye make-up telling him that an invisible dung beetle shoved the sun across the sky each day… 

An early moment of concern…

The following incident happened in my early days of handling Egyptian artefacts with groups of children and the Industrial Gallery was again the venue. 

A Year 6 group was sitting on the hard floor and my artefacts were covered over on my table but one girl in the class was a very lively character, constantly answering questions and she was very tall and confident. In those times, I would ask a child to come forward and take the skull from me, partly so that any child with any worries about touching it could see a classmate holding it and maybe feel a little more comfortable… 

Wrong… 

I asked the confident girl to join me and handed her the skull, which she took into her hands and began to inspect, whilst I began to explain about the red hair and few teeth which they could inspect if they would like to handle it. Suddenly though, as if a tarantula had just crawled from the skull, the girl realised what she was holding, threw the skull upwards and dropped gently into a faint… Having been a wicketkeeper for most of my sporting life, I dropped quickly down and caught the artefact before it smacked on the ground but remarkably, nobody even seemed concerned about the fainting child. The male teacher finally walked towards me and laughed, saying: “It’s OK, if anyone mentions blood or death in class, she keels over…”

THE SKULL I DIVED FOR...

What? I replied, “Why didn’t you warn me?” He responded, “It’s an everyday occurrence…”

Thanks for that…

An Egyptian Schoolday…

It was decided that I should offer an Egyptian school day for pupils to experience in the Museum & Art Gallery, in role and in the public Industrial Gallery. Preparing the teachers’ notes took quite a while and I still have a copy of the pack which contained guidelines for visiting classes.

Maths was done in pairs, using ancient number symbols to calculate two adding sums on a wooden board covered with a kind of white pigment, instead of gesso.

Writing was attempted too, using pieces of unglazed pottery, which I managed to get hold of cheaply at a garden centre, which sold me some broken terracotta pots as well as several complete ones which I totally enjoyed smashing up… The children used brushes and inks for this activity.

Drawing a figure in profile was tried too, on squared paper to imitate how large scale paintings were completed in ancient tombs. The results would be coloured in back at school.

The classes had been asked to rehearse a short piece of drama from an ancient Egyptian tale, maybe some music, even some juggling or dancing using gymnastic skills, ready to perform in the Museum.

I would later read to the pupils a story from a famous papyrus and one or two children would be asked to play characters from the tale to entertain their colleagues. 

Finally, the ancient game of Senet was played, which would hopefully have been experienced by the children back at school in a knockout competition and the two finalists would battle it out in the Museum. Hopefully, the children would have made their own Senet games back at school too.

Lunch at the Museum would have to be something that might have been eaten in ancient Egypt and in the notes provided I included many ideas about what to bring, such as bread, cheese, butter, salads, grapes, raisins, milk or grape juice… 

So, the teachers’ notes included information about how the ancient Egyptians calculated arithmetic, how they drew figures on a grid, how hieroglyphics were written and of course how a Senet game could be made, with instructions about how it was played. The interesting thing was that no matter how far ahead in Senet one could be, there was every likelihood that the losing person could catch up right at the end to create an exciting and close finish…

I found out a lot of information about ancient Egyptian games and sports for the pack, such as juggling or catching reed balls, which were often covered by sewn leather strips. A hoop game was contested by two people, attempting to hook a hoop before the opponent could, using long sticks bent at the ends. (Hockey sticks or walking sticks could be used for that game back at school.) Hopping games, cartwheeling and the gymnastic ‘bridge’ position have all been spotted painted upon tomb walls from ancient Egypt.  

Ideas for costumes and make-up were added too, all of which meant that the teachers could choose which activities to take part in on the day and leave the rest to me…  

How did it go?

I hated the first day, which unfortunately featured a school which arrived with no costumes at all and having prepared virtually nothing… I was upset and shocked but had to somehow battle through the two sessions and use my handling artefacts. Things did improve however but the organisation involved in providing those Egyptian schooldays was so tough to administer in a busy gallery, often with poorly prepared groups, that I didn’t ever attempt it again… 

Thoth-hotep & his son…

One day, my son Jamie was off school due to a teachers’ training day, which his mum needed to attend and she taught at his school. So it was that he came to the Museum with me and took part in a role-play Egypt session…

JAMIE & ME...

The day was not only memorable for the fact that Jamie performed with coolness and remarkable ability but also for the fact that the relationship with a colleague of mine was broken, permanently…

Each morning, the staff members, whether at Aston Hall, Blakesley Hall, the Science Museum, the Nature Centre, or Sarehole Mill, were expected to ring in from their centres just to confirm that they had arrived and that their visiting school’s booking would be going ahead. The teachers in the Museum & Art Gallery were also expected to ring the office if we were staying in our teaching rooms before our schools arrived. If I was working in role, I would stay in my room to daub on my make-up and dress in costume but on that day, Jamie needed making up and putting into a costume too. 

However, I rang the main office number twice but there was no reply each time, so I simply left a message that I was in work and then had to get on and prepare for the arrival of my group of children. At 9.55am Jamie and I waited at the Great Charles Street entrance for our school to be admitted but when a colleague descended the stairs, she had a real go at me in front of a security guard and my son, for not ringing the main office. 

I was incredulous and bellowed at her, “ How dare you speak to me like that…” I told her in no uncertain terms that it was nothing to do with her and that anyway I had left a message on the answerphone… Jamie was embarrassed, the security guard was terrified…

The teaching session went so well though and the visiting pupils were fascinated by Jamie in role and he was an excellent aide, playing the part really well.

A falling out between a colleague and me had happened however and although the Head of Department hauled us both into a meeting room to ‘sort things out’ some days later, I was told to read a poem about the situation, written by my colleague! I refused, stood up and remarked that I wouldn’t be party to such crap, then walked out. Nothing was ever said about it again but unusually I had displayed a rare positivity and firmness, which went against my natural and usual easy-going nature. 

The Head of Department was somewhat taken aback…

Thoth-hotep at Sarehole Mill…

My colleague Elfyn Morris put together a session called ‘Water Through Time’ and classes would visit the mill to make a film about how water was used in ancient Rome, ancient Egypt, Tudor times and Edwardian times. He would play the roles of a Victorian gentleman and a Tudor miller, whilst I would be a Roman Centurion and an Egyptian farmer.

We rigged up a shaduf, used by ancient Egyptians to lift water from the River Nile for irrigation and other purposes, so I demonstrated it, before being interviewed by several children to explain how it worked. It was rather bizarre to be dressed as an ancient Egyptian on the bank of a millpond in the middle of a Hall Green housing estate, lifting a leather bag, full of water, which was attached to a pole, using leverage. It worked though…

I have copies of two of the films made on a VHS video cassette to this day and it was fascinating to watch it again before writing this article…

Gingerella…

Artefacts from the British Museum formed a display in the Gas Hall exhibition space at one time and the main attraction was Gingerella, a mummified woman, not from a tomb but rescued from her ancient desert burial… She was quite amazing… No photographs were allowed however…

Demon Fear

She was cowering like a wounded foe, a foetus,

A frightened child, wary of a bully,

Or an elderly widow, helplessly

Warding off a violent death.

Gritted teeth, on skeletal frame

Dyed the colour of the Red Land,

Grinned. And hair, matted in clumps

Sparsely mocked a funeral wreath.

Right hand was protecting her eyes, despairingly.

Small finger and thumb were touching,

Others curled on each other like some burial rite,

Empowered to dissuade demon chaos. 

Toes, almost arthritic on crouched limbs,

 Reached nowhere, stiffened by desiccation.

And pottery, conserved then displayed, 

Coarsely mocked the corpse's dais…

Pete Ray

Summing up…

The Egyptian sessions were special to me and being in role especially was something unique. Thus many children experienced handling genuine artefacts and became embroiled in the stories surrounding Thoth-hotep’s life. 

When not in role, the sessions were rather different but just as useful and I guess I was lucky that even though the artefacts were the same ones every time, the pupils’ reactions to them were always different, meaning that every two-hour slot was unlike any other…

I tried…

 The Award Winning Museum Float in the Lord Mayor’s procession, May 29th 1993… 

Up around 8am, loaded the car with the video camera, plus our Egyptian wigs and costumes but inexplicably my daughter Wendy was suddenly taken to the Fox and Goose for some reason by her mum and so the drive into town was delayed until around 9.45am.

Met colleague Elfyn, then Museum employee Lorraine (who was to be Nefertiti) and her daughter Sarah, plus her friend Nancy and eventually we were allowed into the Museum of Science & Industry where the girls went off to make up and I went to the yard and helped a little with the truck’s decoration. But by 11.20am, little had been done, so I went to change into my tunic and wig, then to have my face made up.

BEING MADE UP BY AN ARTIST...

Five of us went in a taxi to our float near Steelhouse Lane and were joined by the others. We practised our dance to Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers’ ‘Egyptian Reggae’ music on the lorry and attracted some attention, especially as Elfyn looked rather like Moses. He was usually the one who forgot his steps too, which added that much more hilarity to the event… 

WENDY & LUCY ON THE FLOAT...

Graham Allen from H.R., someone who had never actually spoken a word to me in the Museum, had given bunches of flowers to the kids and had even been out to a department store for some gold material and decorated a throne on the float. All of this surprised me and then, sportingly, he even videoed the procession, following us close behind. 

My young son Jamie had been taken into the city centre to see his sisters on the float but our camel, formed by John Needle (not Cleopatra’s) and a female colleague from the Natural History Department, was so good…  

We danced our way to ‘Best Original Float’ from the Mayor and especially in Corporation Street, the crowds really seemed entertained by us… It was slightly cold but great fun and the girls enjoyed it so much… They also spotted their mum and Jamie on the crowded streets.

We alighted after a good number of jolting routines and danced alongside the float in New Street then in Centenary Square itself, near the rusting man sculpture. We were ushered into the Edwardian Tea Room too and were asked to dance our routine again which received rapturous applause. Graham Allen was great with the kids, providing them with crisps, cans of drinks and cakes throughout the afternoon. He even bought the adults pots of tea…

ME ON THE FLOAT...

We walked back to the MSI, changed and left with Elfyn and his family, before the girls and I drove to niece Bev’s house, as rain began to spot. The apparently well behaved Jamie and his mum had already been collected from the city centre by Beverley…

The girls watched the procession video before they went to bed, which they appeared to enjoy. 

I still have the footage…

Graham Allen? Back to the rather sullen, unfriendly character he always was on the Monday morning…