Out and About with Debs

Out and About with Debbie Redd  (You can call me Debs though)


Castle Road Festival and then the rain came down!

Castle Road Festival and then the rain came down!

The Castle Quarter Festival is upon us, and I go along to soak up the vibe and buy some stuff. As soon as I get there it starts raining. Hard. The stall holders in the cordoned- off road look cheerful enough – it’s been on for two hours and they’ve probably taken as much money as they’re going to get. I manage to grab a couple of copies of the Bedford Clanger for Mr S and myself, one of the two decent freebie mags Bedford produces. I’m told that this is the last paper copy – the next one will be available only on the interactive web site. My heart sinks.   When you’ve been at work all day on a computer, sometimes the last thing you want to do when you get home is to switch on your own– you just want to pick something up and read it. In a thoroughly bad mood and unable to concentrate on anything, I do a quick circuit before heading home; cursing my inability to get there earlier when the sun was beating down.

More of this please next year, make it a carnival!

More of this please next year, make it a carnival!

What is the Castle Quarter and what was I doing there? This is “Bedford’s cool, cultural and creative quarter – a square mile of independent shops, restaurants, cafés and tourist attractions”. More like a rectangle, it stretches east of the town centre from the High Street and bordered by the river, Goldington Road and Newnham Avenue. Of course, this is a modern label dreamt up by the marketing bods. Paris has its Left Bank, and the Castle Quarter is Bedford’s…North Bank.  Going east, it takes in the site of Bedford Castle, the museums and some of the oldest areas of Bedford – the roads still following the seventeenth century street pattern. Running like a spine through the middle is Castle Road, site of the festival. Mention Castle Road to Bedfordians these days and you’re sure of a response. It is sometimes referred to as Bedford’s Notting Hill, on account of its “village“ feel and niche shops and café culture. Unkind wags would say it’s because like its namesake there are very few ethnic minorities – in Notting Hill’s case because they were displaced by gentrification, in Castle Road’s case because they were never there in the first place. Others would say it’s because the (mostly) comfortably-off residents are rather smug and pleased with themselves. Sounds like sour grapes to me, but I forced myself to go on Mumsnet to see what the yummy mummies had to say about the area. You could see their point. Yet I’m in the other camp – I’d move there like a shot if I could afford to. Even misanthropes like me want cool.

Castle Road The Cheese Kitchen where Justin will serve you with some seriously different cheeses!

Castle Road The Cheese Kitchen where Justin will serve you with some seriously different cheeses!

Bucking the national trend, not only are the independent shops and businesses in the Castle Road area surviving, they are thriving. Why is this? Where Castle road starts in the West, we have the large Victorian houses of the Panacea Society era (see previous blog), then the even larger houses of the Rothsay Road– Bushmead Avenue area where families back from the empire and taking advantage of Bedford’s schools lived with their servants. These areas were familiar to the BBC music department, which moved to Bedford during the War. Glen Miller had a base in Waterloo Road, and a house in Rothsay Place used for storing the sheet music had to have the first floor reinforced due to the weight of it.   Travel east of Bushmead Avenue however, and the character changes. These Victorian and Edwardian terraced houses were built for the artisan. Compared with the area we’ve just left they’re nothing special to look at, densely built and the almost total absence of off- road parking can mean problems for everyone with a car. Yet there is an art gallery, the only second hand book shop in the county that isn’t a charity shop,

Books? If you like books then go vist Peter at Eagle Books! Opp the cheese shop!

Books? If you like books then go vist Peter at Eagle Books! Opp the cheese shop!

a cheese shop, a bistro, a country pursuits shop, a watch specialist, an entertainment venue that has featured comedians now well known, an Italian delicatessen, a cupcake shop, an architectural salvage firm and a shop selling hand-made cards and gifts. You can see why people think the area is full of the chattering classes. Yet these shops are just the icing on the cake. You’ll also see the kind of shops and services all local neighbourhoods had – the bakery, butcher and chemist. Added to the mix are the modern establishments we don’t know how we lived without – tattooist and piercer, coffee shops and an exotic pet shop (‘went out for a loaf and all I got was this lousy gecko’). Last and not least are establishments that have probably been there the longest and served the original working class population – the house clearance place, pubs, and a chippy so popular a local artist’s painting of it was reproduced as a Christmas card. I counted over sixty establishments in Castle Road and the streets leading off, all thriving. There is a free magazine, the Bedford Castle Quarter Bulletin; and a bus runs every twenty minutes. The Post Office closed a few years ago to howls of protest and there isn’t an Indian takeaway, but something’s going right.

And the Eagle Gallery. It's next to the Eagle Bookshop and that's opposite the Cheese Kitchen which is next to the best garage in Bedford (down the alleyway).

And the Eagle Gallery. It’s next to the Eagle Bookshop and that’s opposite the Cheese Kitchen which is next to the best garage in Bedford (down the alleyway).

It is, of course, down to money. While there are residents who can only afford to buy their cheese in the local convenience shops or Tesco superstore down the road, there are enough who can and do buy the gorgeous and more expensive cheese in the cheese shop. The same goes for cupcakes. Likewise, it costs plenty to buy the Victorian fixtures and fittings that were torn out in the fifties and sixties because they were then deemed “old fashioned” from architectural salvage, to make your ex-labourers cottage look authentic. Like attracts like, and these terraces are more expensive than comparable terraces in other parts of Bedford; which means that the people who buy them have more money – you get the picture. Yet there are plenty of older residents who have lived there since it was still regarded as working class but respectable, and bought their houses for a song. The amount and variety of activities in the area point to a sociable populace who probably have the kind of fulfilling jobs that leave them free in the evenings and weekends, not coming in from work late at night knackered and filthy. The dense network of streets means that a lot of people live within walking distance, so aren’t put off by the need for a parking space that isn’t there or costs an arm and a leg. Likewise, this means that the area doesn’t depend on outsiders, also looking for that elusive parking space. Although they do come.  

Something Old!

Something Old!

And yes, walking the streets and sizing up the people, it does seem to be an area where the great majority of the population are white. I don’t know how significant that is – you certainly don’t hear about people wringing their hands because Brickhill and Putnoe are white. Is that because these are on the northern edge of Bedford, and we assume that ethnic minorities don’t want to travel? More significantly, I’ve only ever heard white people complaining about how the Castle Road area is full of people like themselves.

Did I also mention that there is also a park on its southern edge? Well, there is. In two weeks’ time the residents will be a stone’s throw from the bi-annual Bedford River Festival, one of the biggest in the country. Walking the streets after work while it was still hot, I tried to determine what it was that made the atmosphere different to every other part of Bedford.

and something exotically new!

and something exotically new!

 It’s this. The people were happy. Not smug, not pleased with themselves, not looking at me thinking ‘Ha! You’re from the Prime Ministers area; you’ll always come second to us’. Just……happy.

Still no Indian takeaway, though.




In Which Debs and Mr S take an amble down Midland Rd

Bedfordians, surrounded by the well-known towns and cities of Cambridge, Milton Keynes, and Luton are concerned that Bedford isn’t known for anything much; apart from John Bunyan.  Yet even the Christians aren’t interested in John Bunyan anymore, and the TV adverts starring Lorraine Chase extolling the virtues of Luton Airport haven’t lit up our screens for years.  However, Bedford is the holder of the title of most ethnically diverse town of its size in the country – a double-edged sword, people finding it either heartening or disquieting.  One of these “ethnically diverse” areas is Midland Road – the closest residential area to the town centre.  On Sunday 13th October saw Mr S and Debs attending the first Midland Road festival of culture – “a multi-cultural showcase of music, dance, food, stalls and fun activities”, according to a local free paper.

It is, of course, raining.  After several false starts and phone calls along the lines of ’I’ll just take the dog for a walk then if it’s eased off I’ll come round’, Mr S drives over and we walk down.  The sound system is playing Lisa Stansfield loudly, and two small girls in school uniforms descend on us offering free cup cakes – a very good start indeed.  However, the on-off showers have affected attendance and the stalls are not exactly thick on the ground.  We can only assume some have packed up and left, or didn’t set up in the first place.  There is certainly no dancing.  Shady characters emerge from doorways and side streets to greet Mr S like a long-lost friend, looking me up and down with polite interest.  We are standing next to a stall advertising the local free school.  The Head, witnessing this, mistakes me for a local mover and shaker and also greets me like a long-lost friend – I look down on him with scorn.  A couple of Police Officers wander about in a distracted manner, probably deciding what to spend their overtime on.  Neither of us fancy eating curry in the rain (yes, it had started again) and I gently steered Mr S away from the recycling stall, as he probably knew more about it than the stall holders did and didn’t fancy listening to a heated debate.  It was all a slightly disappointing but I hope they try again next year and the weather behaves itself.

Just about sums it up!

Just about sums it up!

Midland Road has often been described as having a “long and colourful history”, which we all know is shorthand for a bit dodgy.  Everyone arriving at Bedford Railway Station (known as Midland Station) takes Midland Road into the town centre, so for generations this was their first glimpse of Bedford.  The settlements that sprung up around railway stations have always had a less than salubrious reputation, with their rows of modest terraced housing and cheap hotels and Bedford is no exception.  The western half has been almost untouched by post-war development and has housed each successive wave of immigrants – Midland Road being lined with small shops and businesses that have served their needs.  Never an area for the comfortably off (although the large, now mainly multi-occupied houses on Alexandra Road hint at past glories), it has had a reputation for crime in general and drug dealing in particular.  However, cross the main road of Greyfriars and we are in a different world.  The eastern half of Midland Road and its surroundings were extensively redeveloped in the late 1950s and early 1960s and again in the mid-1970s – and is chain store central.

After work later in the week, I pay another visit to the western half.  For an area looked down on by outsiders as poor, crime-ridden and full of people who didn’t come over with William the Conqueror (wasn’t he a foreigner?) it looks thriving.  Polish Skleps sit next to kebabish and Chinese takeaways, shops selling halal meat, saris, cosmetics for black and Asian skin and hair, Indian sweets.  This is the place to come to find somewhere to rent, transfer your money abroad, get your hair and nails done, have a tattoo, book a taxi, buy a pushchair, fix your car.   Home to a well-known local supermarket that has rubber chickens in the window.   When I was a child, the accents were Italian, Caribbean and Indian.  Now they are eastern European, and the descendants of the people I saw back then were born here.

A few years ago a large branch of Tesco Metro opened where east Midland Road meets west.  People predicted that it would sound the death knell of these local shops.  IT MADE ABSOLUTELY NO DIFFERENCE WHATSOEVER!  What does this tell you? That the Midland Road locals aren’t in thrall to the big supermarkets and that these shops sell stuff that Tesco doesn’t.  One of the hotels, now doubling up as a pub, does it’s best to look seedy but doesn’t quite pull it off.  The other hotel at the bottom of the road has been turned into bedsits.  The hotel sign is still there, swinging in the wind – I suppose the labour charge to take it down is an expense too far so it might as well stay there. Also at the bottom of Midland Road is the bridge that takes you over the railway line and into the area of Queens Park, the most ethnically diverse ward in the country – but that is another story and coming soon(ish).

Well, what do I know? The same local paper has reported on the festival, and according to them it was a roaring success! Over 1,000 people visiting, with an impressive list of who the community was represented by, who was involved, and the nationalities of all the dancers, singers and foodstuffs.  All I can say is, they must have come on before Mr S and I arrived, gone away when they saw us coming and set up again when we left. Still, if it made people look on Midland Road in a more favourable light then all to the good.  And there was cake!

A Day at the Museum (two actuakky as we went again a few weeks later!

After six years and £5.8 million, the Higgins Bedford opened on 21st June.  The former Cecil Higgins Art Gallery, Bedford Museum and Bedford Gallery are now one entity instead of three and housed in the one building. Bedford Museum was founded in 1962 when the collections of Bedford Modern School and the Borough of Bedford were combined and housed in a former car showroom and garage on Bedford Embankment.  The Museum was relocated just up the road to the former Higgins Brewery, built in the 1840’s, in what is now called the “Castle Quarter” area in 1981.

Bedford Museum! It is you know! It's in Bedford!

Bedford Museum! It is you know! It’s in Bedford!

The adjoining house built for the Higgins family, built at the same time, became the Cecil Higgins Museum in 1949, then Cecil Higgins Art Gallery.  On the hottest day of the year, I go and see if the plaudits I have been reading in the local papers are justified.  The opening hours for Sunday are only 14:00-17:00.  I get there at 14:30 and only hope I have enough time.

Strange exhibit: Turns out its a load of spare chairs!

Strange exhibit: Turns out its a load of spare chairs!

It doesn’t start well.  I approach from the Castle Lane end, where the first building I come across is the new café, which with total disregard to accuracy is called “the Pantry”.  Why???  There is also a sign saying “strawberry’s and cream”.  Aware that getting hot under the collar about extra apostrophes is a sign of being an old fart, I shrug it off and enter. There isn’t a guide book, just a card giving you the layout.  On the front desk is a notice, stating that after being open for a week the signage and labelling still hasn’t been completed.  I stand in front of the closed door to the first gallery which is marked automatic.  It doesn’t open.  I pull the handle.  Nothing happens.  I press the button for wheelchair users. Finally, I am allowed in. The first gallery shows the story of how Bedford was settled, up to the building of Bedford Castle; the usual ammonites and hand axes.  The second gallery was an exhibition curated by the pupils of one of the local middle schools (whatevs); the next gallery was the Pre-Raphaelites, which leave me cold.  Everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves, so I decide to pull myself together and enter into the spirit of things.  I enter a foyer which connects the original building with Sir William Harpur Gallery, a two story space for visiting exhibitions and education in a building that had been unused since 1973, and which opened after the Art Gallery closed for remodelling in 2007. (The Museum closed in 2011). Built at the same time, this was a rehearsal room and recording studio for the BBC music department during WW11.  I can quite honestly say that I can’t remember a single thing I saw there – apart from –THE MUMMY! Ask any child who has visited Bedford Museum what impressed them the most.  Chances are they will say the Egyptian Mummy, huge in its black case with the face painted gold and eyes elongated.  When the Tutankhamun exhibition came to the British Museum in 1972, all those kids who couldn’t go (or who went there but were too late to get in because the best friend’s Mum was too mean to pay for the tube so we had to walk – thanks Karen’s Mum) the Mummy was the next best thing.


Actually, I tell a lie.  I do remember some things, but they weren’t labelled so I was none the wiser. One of the doors didn’t open when I pressed the button for wheelchair users so in desperation I pulled the handle really hard and got in, and discovered that all the doors opened – if you pulled or pushed really hard.  Wearying of unlabelled exhibits, I stood in front of something and tried to guess what it was.  Thinking it was some sort of old farm machinery, I realised it was a rack containing fold up chairs. Having known the Museum and Art Gallery before, I kept trying to compare the new layout with the old but gave up.

Things started looking up when I entered the Higgins House, scene of a thousand school trips for young Bedfordians.  Just beyond the rope is a small, rather fine kidney shaped writing desk, inlaid with leather.  Dreaming of where I might put it if the Museum decides to give it to me, I run a finger over the surface. ‘Don’t touch!’ yelps a spotty youth.  He is wearing a name badge, so that must mean he is a world authority on the Decorative and Applied Arts.  Over he bounds, and seeing that I am less the kind of person who would carve my initials into said desk and more the kind of person who would report him for being a cheeky young scamp; he backtracks.  Wanting to build bridges, I apologise for overstepping the mark; but couldn’t help admiring the desk.  He is at once relieved and disappointed – relieved because he thought I was fingering his favourite piece, a large wooden globe in a stand – a smaller version of all those globes people bought in the seventies with cocktail cabinets inside; disappointed because it wasn’t my favourite as well. Apologising for my lamentable lack of taste, I change the subject and talk about the changes since the last time the Museum/Art Gallery was open.  He informs me that he is too young to have much of an opinion on that, as the Higgins House was closed when he was doing his Art GCSE.  Or was it History? – he couldn’t remember.

Well I don't remember this bit but Google says its New Bedford Museum!

Well I don’t remember this bit but Google says its New Bedford Museum!

A glance at the Victorian objets d’art, one last longing look at the desk and I climb the stairs. There is a room with a box of Victorian-style hats which people can try on and disport themselves in front of a 300 year old mirror. The trouble is, if you’re an adult, the mirror above chest height is so damaged it isn’t fit for purpose; so you have to crouch down to admire yourself.  The house seems oddly truncated compared to what it used to be.  I realise that rooms have been lost for other purposes, such as the new Harpur Studio; closed to the public and looking unfinished.  Another major change is access to the Hexagon – A real hexagonal building.  This is the oldest building on the site, built in 1804 and originally a militia depot (think Napoleonic Wars). It was also perversely known as the Octagon.  This wasn’t open to the general public in later years, but in winter the Cecil Higgins Art Gallery used to hold ghost tours, where we went behind the scenes. I remember going into the Hexagon, which looked like a dusty classroom.  The group of us were each given something which looked like a bent coat hanger in order to see if we could detect spirits.  Or something like that – it was quite a scary evening.  The Hexagon is now home to the William Burges collection.  He was an architect and designer who had a penchant for the medieval, and liked to do his own take on the period.  Around the sides of the Hexagon are various pieces of his painted wooden furniture, living proof (to paraphrase Kenny Everett) that the Victorians did not design in the best possible taste.  One of the most hideous objects I have seen in a long time was a dressing table which at first glance looked like a jukebox.

The next collection is the Charles Wells Gallery, which includes glassware, porcelain, ceramics and metalwork.  The Cecil Higgins Art Gallery as was had some Lalique I remember very well and can’t see on display.  I spot a name-badged woman and ask her about it.  She starts talking about the ceramics collection.  Trying not to let my emotions show, I say that Lalique was famous for glass, not ceramics.  Maybe the staff broke it all in the move.  Fixing me with a frosty glare, she says that did not happen.  Closing my eyes, I tell her I was joking.  She states that like any other collection, only about 40% will be on display at any one time so it must be in storage somewhere. As we speak, another name-badged woman runs over to the first one and apologises for being late.  She had got lost.

Next up, Edward Bawden with his prints based on Aesop’s Fables.  Nope, sorry, not my cup of tea.  If you’re a fan of the Pre-Raphaelites and/or Edward Bawden this blog won’t be much use to you so that’s a good incentive to go to the Higgins and see for yourself.

The next gallery, “Somewhere in England” is probably my favourite.  The title is alluding to the part that Bedford played in the Second World War – the so-called “Secret war”.  Concerned that London would be an obvious target for the Luftwaffe, the BBC moved outside the capital, much of it to Bedford.  Direct lines ran to Broadcasting House for the purposes of live programmes, which “officially” still came from London.  To confuse the Hun, the programmes were described as coming from “somewhere in England”.  Bedford!  Just before the entrance is a curved wall where a camera projects the story of the how various industries came to the area.  The gallery is full of artefacts from the recent past, and the public are more animated here; possibly because they worked in these industries.  We see the part Bedford played in WW2, exhibits on post war immigration, the R101 airship, Britannia Iron Works, W H Allen’s Queens Engineering Works, the Stewartby brickworks, the Tobler factory and Texas Instruments – some of which were mentioned in a previous blog. As Bedfordshire is also an agricultural county, there are exhibits on market gardening, model farms and the cottage industries of lace making and basket making, using rushes.  The name-badged guide who got lost comes over and we reminisce about the various sweet stuffs that came from Tobler – there is an empty cardboard box that held the famous New berry Fruits and we discuss the best way to eat them.  When Mr S is stuck for stuff to put in the blog, this might make a suitable if lightweight entry.  Anarchists have sweet tooths as well!

Next up – Great Bedfordians.    On the right hand side, photographs and descriptions of prominent Bedfordians of the past, some known nationally, others not. There is a photo of Mabel Bartrop of Panacea Society fame as a young woman in the late Victorian age holding her baby son up.  What is striking is how contemporary her face looks – if you ignore the hairstyle, she could be any young Bedford woman walking down the High Street today.  On the left hind side, five modern day Bedford men and five women, carefully chosen to represent different ages, social classes, races and occupations and I dare say only known to friends and family. One of the men is a retired GP who opened Bedford’s first purpose-built Doctor’s Surgery.  I’m staggered that this isn’t until 1961, thirteen years after the NHS was founded.   In the middle, a bench and a screen showing a film of people at play – a regatta, children of Polish origin in national dress doing a national dance (there has been a sizeable Polish population in Bedford since the war), the world famous maypole at Ickwell, and – OH NO! MORRIS DANCERS! (See previous entries for our thoughts on these).  An elderly man sitting next to me jabs me in the ribs and points excitedly at a photograph of one of the five contemporary Bedford women.  ‘Look! That’s you isn’t it?’ I jump up – why is my photo there? I didn’t give permission to be photographed, and what am I doing between two Guide Dogs?  A split second later I realise it isn’t me – it is a photo of someone who trains Guide Dogs for the disabled and if you look at for a second there is a faint passing resemblance.  He looks crestfallen when I tell him he is mistaken, and I wish I had pretended it was true.

They scowl if you take pictures inside so I'm just putting random things in!

They scowl if you take pictures inside so I’m just putting random things in!

The last gallery is called The Collectors, and is basically the Natural History and Ethnography collections and describing who did all the collecting – how we came to have all this stuff in the first place.  It gives a detailed history of the museum’s origin in the “school museum “of the Bedford Modern School (open twice a week and 6d entry), but no mention at all is made of the twenty or so years Bedford Museum spent on the Embankment.  I asked another guide about this, and she said she didn’t think it was important.  There is a case of mounted butterflies, and I overhear a girl getting upset about the dead flutterbies.  Quick as a flash, her mother tells her that they all died of natural causes and a kind man came along and decided to bring them back to Bedford so we could see how beautiful they were; instead of burying them.  The daughter seems satisfied with that and doesn’t start bawling; so everyone’s a winner.  There is a small section on archaeology with an imitation archaeological dig behind glass and a collection of miniature hard hats, hi vizs and plastic tools; so children can pretend to be archaeologists.

That’s it.  I was worried about not seeing everything in time but I needn’t have worried.  I go back to the front desk, put a donation in the box and am encouraged to write something on the comments page.  I state that a guide book would be nice, finish the labelling pronto and do something about the doors.  Everyone else has put the same thing.  I go to the ladies – they use those James Dyson hand dryers that dry your hands really fast but probably damage your hearing – and repair to the Higgins Pantry for a slice of coffee and walnut (hopefully) and a drink.  The so-called pantry is all white walls, grey floor, dark furniture and salsa music – nothing like the pantries of my childhood where elderly relatives stored their bottled tomatoes.  The cake is more than acceptable, and I opt for a latte with added Nutella.

Increasingly random things!

Increasingly random things!

How was it for me? You can certainly see where the money has gone.  The Higgins Bedford doesn’t lack for staircases, lavatories or lifts for people in wheelchairs.  There is plenty of space for everything and the air conditioning was working full blast.  If this sounds grudging it’s not meant to be– integrating everything makes perfect sense and hopefully the locals will want to to visit again and again, instead of taking it for granted because it’s on their doorstep.  I don’t need to mention the teething problems again; no doubt they will be ironed out.  It cannot compare with one of the larger city museums because it isn’t fully representative enough, but as a local museum it must rank very highly.  It certainly knocks spots off the museum of my childhood when it was on the Embankment.  This is one area of life that the present does better than the past.  Children aren’t stupid – even to my young eye I could tell that this was basically a souped-up shed full of stuff that was being stored.  There was no interest in getting children interested in the past – it was assumed that if you were a “good” child you would automatically be interested, so the authorities didn’t bother to make an effort.  If the pile of old junk didn’t enthrall you, you were obviously a wrong’un and would probably end up driving a van for the Council.  (These days there are young people with degrees who can only dream of driving a van for the Council).

Come along to the Higgins and see for yourself, although if you’re a local and went before it closed for refurbishment you’ve probably already been.  If they bring back the ghost tours, it would be perfect; although I rather think the building is now less ghostly after dark.


3 Responses to “Out and About with Debs”

  1. carla April 13, 2013 at 10:53 am #

    My cousin Alex is in Jimmy’s End; far right on that picture you have there holding the violin!

  2. Eamonn September 3, 2013 at 4:01 pm #

    I went along 2 weeks ago. Sill loads not labelled and the layout is confusing. But 3 plus points – 1. You can ‘camp it up’ in a ladies bonnet. 2. The have the most camp teapot I’ve ever seen. 3. My son found nothing of any interest in the gift shop.

    Shame in ‘Great Bedfordians’ there was no mention of ex-Mayor of Bedford and collector of ‘phallic artifacts’ George Witt. To quote the webpage I link to below ‘Witt’s interest in the antique was almost entirely phallocentric’, Now that would get the punters in!



  1. Castle Road Bedford | bedford bypass - July 7, 2014

    […] Out and About with Debs […]

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