Faced with yet another boring Sunday trying to laze on the sofa watching crappy TV I actually contemplate joining some form of religious organisation to help make me a better person and devote my life to the worship of God. Just in the nick of time Science Gimp turns up and says we’re going to Hastings! Yay! This road trip is one with a difference as we actually went back in time….to Yesterday’s World.
Hastings. What does it actually have to offer other than a big field where a huge bloody battle happened nearly one thousand years ago? Not very much you would think. So, as we’re walking along the high street to go and stand in a large amount of mud (should have done Trainer Watch) whilst visualising being thrashed by a large group of Frenchmen (last time I had this thought I wet the bed) we came across this sign:
Full of intrigue we decided to obey the sign and head towards what we could only envisage as something that Judith Hann and Howard Stableford would throw bricks at, we come across this. A shop proclaiming to be Yesterday’s World (with a very modern Coke machine).
Realising that this probably wasn’t actually a shop selling holidays in the past (a little like Total Recall) but was actually some form of pokey museum, we were a little disheartened, but continued nontheless.
Walking in took us into a very uninteresting gift shop, but tagged on the side was a very interesting olde worlde sweet shop, and it was real! This wasn’t a museum piece, this was a real sweet shop where you can buy sweets. All the sweets that you can remember from your childhood were here: Rhubarb & Custard, Licorice Sticks, Lemon Fizz, and many more. Like kids in a candy store, we bought some erm….candy.
With mouths full of tooth rotting sugar we progressed into the museum proper. We were immediately confronted by a waxwork shopkeeper telling us how a lot of famous brands from the 1930s are now no longer with us. Informative.
I walked further down the faux high street on the plastic cobbles and found a phone booth next to the post office. While the waxwork shopkeeper continued his monologue on the death of grocery stores I decided to call 123 and find out what the time was in 1934.
Realising that phone calls across the space/time continuum would probably cost a fortune I made my getaway on a baker’s delivery bike. After pedalling furiously for 5 minutes I discovered that the bicycle was chained to the wall and I had travelled nowhere.
My Great Escape not quite living up to it’s name I mingled with the crowd in order to confuse the pursuing authorities. (The girl on the left is Missus JimmerUK, the one on the right has been shopping since 1922, and has spent a total of 3 shillings, 15 pence in today’s money).
The girls content with doing some window shopping of their own (I prayed that they would only spend 15p)…
…I went to meet the locals. Following this young girl’s eyeline, I think she was more interested in the marvel I had in my jeans, she had never seen anything like it before (of course I mean my mobile phone).
With the little girl not being very talkative I quickly got bored and decided to browse her shop (not a euphamism I promise), and found some very well known brands. The original waxwork shopkeeper was obviously talking crap, for here in front of us were KitKats, Aeros, Cadbury’s, and Turkish Delight.
Walking further on we were reliably informed by a pretty lady that Craven A cigarettes will not affect our throats. Apparently back in those days cancer didn’t exist.
Moving along, we discovered a slaughterhouse where some poor soul had been cut up and put onto a stick. It took us a moment to realise that this was in fact a gentlemen’s barbershop. The difference between how they look now, and how they looked then is astonishing. Well, what’s really astonishing is the fact that someone had taken some time out of their lives to build this replica, as apart from the dismembered body, it’s exactly the same as any other pokey barber’s you’d find in today’s high street.
Turning to the next corridor we found an advertisement for what was obviously the 1930’s female equivalent of Viagra.
We stopped suddenly upon reaching the next room for we were suddenly in the presence of royalty. I don’t know who was more shocked, me as I thought that Queen Victoria had died a long time ago, or Queen Victoria as she was now in the presence of internet legend. It
Missus Science Gimp, however, did not follow official protocol, and embarrassed us all.
Fortunately I managed to convince Her Majesty not to have us all beheaded for Becky’s uncouth behaviour. It had left me feeling drained, and a little nervous so we headed for the chemist where we found just the remedy; Japanese Vigor Tonic. I did have “That Tired Feeling”, but Brain Fag? On second thoughts maybe some Neurofen would do the job.
On the last leg of our journey back through time, heading for the attic, I caught myself wondering what had happened to Harold’s body after being defeated in 1066. My question was soon answered as we reached the top of the stairs…he’d been up here reading the sodding paper! He didn’t look too well, and appeared to have some sort of head injury. Maybe this was the infamous Brain Fag?
Creeping past the ancient Harold we stumbled upon the children’s rooms, and what at first appeared to be some racist propaganda quickly turned out to be some harmless product branding. (Unfortunately, not everyone feels the same).
It would seem that children in the past were just as good as children in the present at tidying their rooms (ie no bloody good at all), and had left games all over the place. One that particularly caught my eye was Jay Walking. It simply appeared to be people with table-tennis bats stuck to their feet, balancing coloured balls and placing them in the appropriate section of the box. This is genius! Someone invented a game where the object is to tidy up! It would certainly stop any rows as to who’s turn it is to put away the Monopoly.
Walking out the exit, the last thing we saw was a huge picture of a black cat cunningly advertising Black Cat cigarettes. Some wag had tried to scratch off the ‘i’ and ‘a’ from Virginia. Surprisingly they hadn’t the wit to scrawl something about big black pussies.
And that was pretty much that. There’s nothing much more to say about the whole experience, except maybe it was a little dull, much like sitting at home on a Sunday and watching crappy TV, or maybe deciding which religious sect you’d like to join…hang on a minute, how’s that for irony!
To cap it all off, no trip to Hastings would be complete without visiting the battelfield, and here it is.
Becky was appropriately respectful of the site where hundreds of fine soldiers lost their lives trying to defend England.
Raf our resident Science Gimp, suitably reverent, closed his eyes and imagined he was king of the world…or something.
And that really was that. Should you go to Hastings and try to reenact this fantastic day out, I would suggest NOT going to The 1066 pub where cream teas for four people will set you back £16, and you are served by monosyllabic staff.
Great tips.
If I meet Queen Liz, I’ll be sure to inform her that you were there. She might not have recognised you, what with the over 100 years of death between her reign and now.
Eh? That was Queen Vic…
Have to agree that it was a little dull – but at least we got a discount on the entrance fee. Even though I maintain that the the 3 little rascals serving us (and sporadically checking to make sure we weren’t shoplifitng) should have been at school. The “… but it’s Sunday…” argument just doesn’t cut it with me….
That reminds me. Whilst we were in the gift shop one of the rascals was paid a visit by a group of his chums who were very drunk.
I don’t know how he can hold his head up high, mind you his bow tie was huge!
ohmigosh.. A Gollywogologists heaven. And I sir, am a Gollywogologist.