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  • Writer: Walking With Brian
    Walking With Brian
  • Sep 29, 2024
  • 6 min read

Updated: Sep 30, 2024

In addition to the superb range of permanent galleries, the National Museum of Scotland in Chambers Street, Edinburgh, hosts a couple of special exhibitions each year. Entry to these events is currently £12 and the latest offering is Game On - an interactive display about the history and culture of computer games. Many of the key titles produced over the last half century are available to play in person.



The touring extravaganza is actually making its second appearance at the Edinburgh museum. It began life in 2002, opening in London and heading north of the border later that year. I attended and my memory is naturally a little fuzzy after 22 years. I do remember the place being very busy and it was difficult to get near some of the games. This time around there is a time-slot booking system and visitors are asked to spend no more than two hours inside. Naturally the exhibition has been modified over the intervening years as game technology itself has advanced by leaps and bounds. Game On has toured the world and in each country it reflects some of the local gaming history. Scotland has a strong foothold in the industry, producing numerous hits such as Grand Theft Auto, Lemmings, Crackdown and Highland Song. Rockstar Games and 4J Studious (both based in Dundee) are major players in the market. As expected, the initial displays dealt with the embryonic video games in America. Early experiments with draughts and noughts & crosses were superseded in 1962 by Spacewar - a mainframe galaxy duel that became tremendously popular among science students on college campuses. The research computers that powered the game were prohibitively expensive and there was no prospect of releasing a version to the general public. Spacewar player Nolan Bushnell, along with Ted Dabney, hit upon the ideal of building their own computer with a minimal number of functional components. They created Computer Space - a game for one player, inspired by Spacewar, with the computer controlling the other spaceships. Bushnell and Dabney persuaded a pinball manufacturer to design a suitable cabinet (pictured below) and market the game, but it failed to catch on. Bushnell then founded the company Atari, which went on to become a household name in the gaming world. The big commercial breakthrough came in 1972 with Pong, essentially a basic table tennis simulation. Anyone could quickly get to grips with the familiar bat-and-ball action and the two player mode gave the arcade game a strong social and competitive element that turned it into a huge success. Millions of Americans popped quarters into the coin slot. By 1975, home consoles were being produced on a worldwide basis. They connected directly to a standard television and thus home computer gaming was born. I vaguely remember my Auntie Rona bringing Pong to our house when I was around six years old. The end of the 70s and early 80s witnessed a huge boom in arcade-style cabinet gaming. Many classics were released, beginning with Space Invaders in 1978.



One of the most successful shooting challenges, the aim is to prevent an array of alien spaceships reaching the surface by blasting them out of the sky, while dodging their return fire and sheltering behind defensive blocks, which themselves gradually disintegrate due to enemy strikes (or your own mistimed flak). It's a simple concept, yet endlessly playable and the controls can be learned within seconds. The popularity of Space Invaders marked a turning point for the accessibility of arcade games, spreading them beyond specialist halls and adult-only bars. Family environments such as cinemas, shopping malls and cafés now featured rows of coin-operated cabinets and a young generation of gamers emerged. Electronic characters began to enter popular culture and who isn't able to visualise Pac-Man, regardless of whether you've played the game or not? The yellow chomper was unleashed in 1980 and originally called Puck Man. Due to teenagers scratching off part of the leading letter and creating a different concept for the character, he was swiftly renamed. Again the gameplay was simple to understand. Use a single joystick to guide Pac-Man around the maze, gobbling up all the pills in sight. Meanwhile, four ghosts (Inky, Pinky, Blinky & Clyde) pursue Pac-Man and a life is lost if one of them catches up. Eating a fruit temporarily allows Pac-Man to turn the tables and kill the ghosts. This "power up" feature was innovative at the time. Pac-Man was an early example of a game character moving into other spheres such as merchandise, music and television. The exhibition then presented it's top-10 selection of home gaming consoles - all available to try. The Fairchild Channel F was the first to use interchangeable cartridges but it was Atari who cornered this market with the 2600 device, released in 1977. I remember a couple of schoolfriends having this hardware and each game cost around £30. Equivalent to over £100 today. If I remember correctly, the console itself cost £99 in the early 80s (it had been launched in 1978 at £199). An American crash came in 1983 after a much-hyped game based on the wildly successful E.T. movie had been rush-released for the previous Christmas. It was roundly panned and was the straw that broke the camel's back. In truth, the market had been saturated with a glut of inferior copy-cat consoles and below-par games. Atari had already blotted its copybook with a much-anticipated home version of Pac-Man that - despite wildly successful sales - was criticised for having poor graphics and sound.



Home microcomputers stepped into the breach and soared in popularity. The cassette format (or floppy disk) for games was a far cheaper proposition than pre-programmed cartridges and the Sinclair ZX Spectrum became one of the most popular machines in the UK. There were downsides. Games could take several minutes to load and the rubber keys on the early Spectrum models weren't conducive to rapid typing. Sound capability and colour range were also limited. However, the sheer affordability of the whole package ensured that a "Speccy" was a Christmas wish within the reach of many families. The device was the brainchild of Clive Sinclair, who had pioneered the electronic pocket calculator and made headway with an ultra-basic computer called the ZX81. Launched in 1982, the Spectrum became a huge success, outstripping rivals such as the Commodore 64 and the BBC Micro (both solid contenders). I spent many happy hours playing away on the original rubber-keyed release and later the more robust +2 model. The whole family joined in the fun and there were always people at school looking to swap games. A new title typically cost between £5 and £10. High Street newsagents sold the cassettes and there was a huge range available via mail order. The inevitable improvements in technology caused the Speccy to wane as a commercial force as the 90s rolled around, but what an impact it left! Later releases had been increasingly sophisticated but ultimately more powerful machines such as the Commodore Amiga and Atari ST began to muscle in. PC games were also entering the market. Consoles did come back with a vengeance as successive generations of high quality units were produced by Sega, Sony, Nintendo and Microsoft. On a personal level, I moved away from gaming as I entered my 20s, although I did dabble with my younger brother's Sega Mega Drive and I sourced a bargain Commodore Amiga in 1996 for a final throw of the dice. I just found other interests and as a result of my own life experiences, I found the retro elements of the exhibition far more interesting than the 21st-century gaming scene, vastly immersive as it is. I wandered over to the table covered in handheld 80s devices. I picked up Puck Monster, which I once owned. An obvious Pac-Man clone, I think it cost £30 and I bought the device with my birthday money. With just one gaming mode on offer, I quickly became proficient.



Today I was out of practice and my measly score a mere fraction of what I could achieve at the age of 14. I tried my luck at a few more vintage arcade cabinets - Donkey Kong, Asteroids and Missile Command - with varying degrees of success. Unfortunately I couldn't get near Monaco GP - a driving game I played many times in my youth (along with Pole Position). The newer exhibition material was grouped by genre. My attempts at playing were hampered by the complexities of contemporary controllers. No longer a simple joystick and a couple of buttons at the side. Learning the various press combinations is an art form in itself. Of course the 10-year-olds standing next to me were completely unfazed. The concept of game characters was also explored. Names such as Mario, Lara Croft and Sonic the Hedgehog were discussed. Nowadays players can even build their own avatar, which becomes part of their playing identity. Despite the advanced nature of modern technology, simple ideas do still hit paydirt and a prime example is Angry Birds - a simple but addictive slingshot premise that became a global phenomenon on early tablets and smartphones. The touch-screen interface was perfect for pulling back the elastic and letting fly. As of 2018, the game has been downloaded four billion times. Gaming now covers a wide demographic, with many females taking part, The stereotype of the teenage boy hunched over a screen no longer represents reality. It can also be a highly sociable activity, with global networking allowing gamers to communicate effortlessly with each other and form friendships. Yes, we have come a long way since the days of hitting a little white ball back and forth.


 
 
 
  • Writer: Walking With Brian
    Walking With Brian
  • Sep 25, 2024
  • 7 min read

Updated: Sep 29, 2024

The Fair City of Perth has a brand new museum, located within the City Hall. The Edwardian civic building (B-listed) had struggled to find a use over the last couple of decades, Many events were now hosted at the modern Perth Concert Hall, which opened in 2005. Perth & Kinross Council considered demolition of the City Hall but this was blocked by Historic Scotland. Instead, a £27 million redevelopment plan was announced and a major coup for the new museum was the arrival of the Stone of Destiny as the centrepiece. The complex opened in the spring of 2024.



Admission to the permanent galleries is free and there is also no charge to see the stone, although a time slot must be booked for this special exhibit. I decided to wait a few months until the initial rush died down and picked a midweek day in August during my summer holidays to pay a visit. Nicole and my mum accompanied me. Outside the grand entrance stood a sculpture of a Highland cow, part of an art trail that extends across the Perth & Kinross Council Area. A total of 30 bovine artworks are dotted around the local authority and are set to be auctioned at the end of the project's run, with all proceeds being donated to CHAS - an organisation that provides hospices for children and young people. A very worthy cause. The interior of the museum gives an overwhelming impression of space and height. It is easy to move around and the upper balconies contained additional displays. Various stuffed birds dangled on wires from the high ceiling. The collection was previously housed a few hundred yards distant in a joint museum and art gallery. This pre-Victorian building opened to the public in 1824, making it one of the oldest of its type in Scotland. The relocation of the city museum enabled its former home to be rebranded simply as Perth Art Gallery - a move that satisfies the requirement laid down when the building was gifted to the public in 1915 - that it may only ever be used as a library or exhibition space. We had visited the old place a few times and I'll definitely go back to see the galleries in their new form. In the City Hall, we browsed the exhibits on the ground floor and in the alcoves off to the sides. Mum said she had seen Billy Connolly perform here in days gone by. The last major concert in the venue was Morrissey (former Smiths singer) in 2004.



Perth was founded around the year 1000. The city is located by the tidal limit of the River Tay and at the furthest point downstream where it was practical to build a bridge in medieval times. A Viking-era sword was unearthed in 1848. The weapon survives in three pieces and was on display. One of the few Scottish towns to be defended by a stone wall, Perth developed a system of parallel streets that is still evident today, with many vennels. Royal Burgh status was granted around 1120, which brought trading advantages. St John's Kirk (next to the museum) is the spiritual centre of Perth. Indeed, at one time the city was known as St Johnstoun, a name preserved by the local football club St Johnstone, which competes in the Scottish Premier League. Originally constructed from wood, St John's Kirk was substantially rebuilt in the 15th century. The choir is the oldest part of the building, dating from 1448. Perth had strong links with a religious revolution known as the Reformation. In 1559, firebrand protestant John Knox gave a powerful sermon at the kirk that whipped listeners into a frenzy and led to them sacking the church interior before turning their fury towards local monasteries. The town of Scone lies just outside Perth. It was the original capital of the Kingdom of Scotland and a coronation site. The historic abbey was burned to the ground following the Knox diatribe. The last monarch to have been crowned here was James IV in 1488. He was killed at the Battle of Flodden following a disastrous invasion of England (the last sovereign from Great Britain to perish in this way). In controversial fashion, Scone reappeared on the royal map in 1651 when Charles II was crowned King of Scots during the Wars of the Three Kingdoms - a complex struggle involving politics and religion. Having attempted absolute rule, Charles I was deposed and executed during the conflict and the Commonwealth of England was established as a republic by Oliver Cromwell. The English monarchy was eventually restored in 1660 and Charles II succeeded his father south of the border. One of the museum's principal exhibits is the Bronze Age logboat, excavated from the River Tay at Carpow in 2006.

It had been spotted on the mudflats five years previously during an exceptionally low tide. The vessel then spent six years undergoing stabilisation and drying at the National Museums of Scotland collection centre in Edinburgh. Carved from a single oak trunk, the boat survived due to the peaty soil composition of the estuary area. Dated to around 1000 BC, the logboat is one of the oldest and best-preserved of its kind in Scotland. Experts say it could have been used for a range of purposes: a cargo craft, fishing vessel, or as a ferry.



Interestingly, the period terms BC and AD were not used on the text panels within the museum. Instead, CE and BCE appeared. It was my mum who noticed these time descriptions and neither she nor I knew exactly what they stood for. Coincidentally, two women standing next to us made the same observation. Nicole knew the answer. CE and BCE refer to "common era" and "before common era" respectively. Being neutral in terms of faith, the labels have become common in scientific and academic publications. Mum sought out the two ladies to bring them up to speed, although I should imagine it will take some time before the new indicators are rolled out in every museum up and down the land. A glass case contained the skeleton of a Pictish man reckoned to have died 1500 years ago (which puts us in the CE bracket). Housebuilding near Blair Atholl in 1985 uncovered stone-slab cist. The man is believed to have been around 45 years old at the time of his death and and computer generated image of his face was on display. Another fascinating artefact was a 3D-printed replica of a Roman tombstone. The copy is painted to suggest how the stone looked when originally made. The Romans believed the deceased were guided towards the next world by the spectres of the departed. The actual stone was found near Braco in 1671 and is on display at the Hunterian Museum, Glasgow. Perth was twice under armed occupation during the Jacobite uprisings. Over the next few decades, the city was transformed, growing beyond the old walls. Rich merchants and wealthy professionals set up home. As Perthshire residents emigrated or travelled to capitalise on opportunities offered by the expanding British Empire, they brought back evidence of their interactions with other cultures and societies. Museum collections often contain artefacts that were at best questionably sourced. Nowadays there is usually an acknowledgement of these escapades in galleries around the UK, the new Perth Museum being no exception. An unexpected find today was a preserved duck-billed platypus - the only mammal that lays eggs. Lurking in the same corner was a stuffed kiwi. The Tay is Scotland's longest river and many mills and factories were built along the banks in the 18th and 19th centuries. Perth Harbour connected the city's traders to Europe and beyond. Salmon fishing was an important industry until declining fish stocks prompted severe restrictions on this activity. As the population exploded, many people lived in appalling conditions and mortality rates were shockingly high. It was a time of great social change. Urban sanitation was established and schooling, housing and healthcare all saw steady improvements. A fair chunk of Perthshire lies within the geographical Highlands and this area became associated with tourism and pursuits such as hunting and shooting, often the preserve of the wealthy. As is the case in many regional museums, a display was dedicated to the effects of the world wars on local everyday life. Women were suddenly thrust into roles previously held exclusively by men, although many of these new employment opportunities for females ebbed away as the troops returned. Country houses across Perthshire were requisitioned and turned into military hospitals, staffed by hundreds of volunteers. Seeds were sown that would change society forever.



There was a special exhibition on the mythical unicorn but we gave this a miss. The entry fee was £10. And so to the Stone of Destiny. No photography was permitted inside the showpiece gallery and tours are conducted at 10-minute intervals. Each group contains around 20 people and a short film is shown, detailing the stone's illustrious history. Also known as the Stone of Scone, the oblong sandstone block played an integral part in the coronation ceremonies of Scottish monarchs for centuries. Originally kept at the now-vanished Scone Abbey, the stone was captured by the forces of King Edward I of England in 1296 and taken to Westminster, where it would aid the inauguration of English (and later British) monarchs for the next 700 years. In 1996, the ancient symbol of Scottish royalty was transferred to Edinburgh Castle in a blaze of publicity. It was kept alongside the Honours of Scotland (basically the crown jewels). When King Charles III was crowned in 2023, the stone was sent south to be placed beneath the coronation chair. Perth Museum is now the permanent home for the sacred slab. There was however an audacious attempt in 1950 to bring it back to Scotland. Four Scottish students sneaked into Westminster Abbey and carried the stone out to a waiting car. At some point, the stone was accidentally dropped and broken into two pieces (it was later repaired). The British Government launched a major hunt which initially proved unsuccessful. Presumably the students felt the heat and eventually the stone was left by the altar at Arbroath Abbey, whereupon it was returned to London. The gang was never prosecuted. After the film ended, we walked through to the viewing room where the stone sat within a subtly-lit glass case. An iron ring (to aid transport) is embedded in each end. It was very satisfying to see an object that has played such a pivotal role in our history. Afterwards we had lunch in the café (rather average) and wandered over to the Waterstone's bookstore across the street. A fine day out in the Fair City. A visit to the museum is highly recommended.

 
 
 
  • Writer: Walking With Brian
    Walking With Brian
  • Sep 20, 2024
  • 7 min read

Updated: Sep 26, 2024

This place had been on my radar for a while. I finally took the chance to visit when I travelled up to Dundee with Nicole. She had clients to see and I parked just off Albert Street and wandered down to the museum, which is located within part of an old abattoir by the docks. Admission was £8.50 and more than 100 vehicles are displayed across the four halls.



The current premises are more than adequate but they are a temporary solution. The plan is to move into a former tram depot in the Stobswell area, which offers more space and a healthy degree of authenticity. It is also planned to open a café within the external grounds which can visited by the general public without the need to purchase a museum ticket. Such a move would bring in additional revenue. Community workshops could be hosted within the main building and rooms let on a commercial basis. The 1901 tram shed has been purchased and the city council has approved the development. The relocation is slated for next year, but for now I was here to explore the current Market Mews site. The first vehicle I encountered in the entrance hall was a Robin Hood kit car (pictured above). Based in Nottinghamshire, customers were sold the car body and then fitted mechanical systems themselves (often from donor vehicles). I also examined a 1930s ice-cream cart, powered by the attached bicycle. Scotland has had motorised taxis since 1907 now electric cabs are starting to make an appearance, with over 100 operating in Dundee (round one fifth of the total). I have noticed a few while out and about and the transition to electric vehicles across society will happen eventually, although the internal combustion engine will clearly be around for a while yet. In the world of invention, those who claim the final prize don't usually deliver the goods in complete isolation. There are often competing projects and earlier prototypes that never made a breakthrough. John Dunlop is widely known as the man who gave us the first practical pneumatic tyre. But it was a fellow Scot who seriously developed the concept a few decades previously. Robert William Thomson (1822 - 1873) went down in history as the inventor of the refillable fountain pen. His "aerial wheels" consisted of hollow belts of India rubber inflated with air, within a strong outer casing that was bolted to the wheel. Thomson was granted patents in several countries but supply-chain issues and high production costs meant he was never able to manufacture his creation to any great extent. Basically the ingenious cushion of air was half a century ahead of its time. In 1845 there were no motor cars on the roads and bicycles were only just starting to appear. Therefore the invention remained little more than a curiosity during Thomson's lifetime. Dundee was involved in tyre production for half a century until the Michelin factory closed in 2020.



The Tay Ferries (known colloquially as the Fifies) plied their trade across the Firth of Tay to the Kingdom of Fife until the opening of the Tay Road Bridge in 1966. Steamships were introduced in 1821 and eventually vehicles were carried across the water as well as foot passengers. The museum has a restored 1951 Dundee Corporation half-cab bus on display. It was withdrawn in 1973 after covering more than half a million miles. Now painted in its original livery (with no advertisements), the bus is the oldest of its type in existence. By the 1850s, the Industrial Revolution was in full swing across the land but cities found it difficult to grow outwards due to a lack of public transport networks. The introduction of the horse-drawn tram changed the situation. Running on smooth rails, it was far more energy efficient than the horse bus, which had to cope with variable road surfaces. This new mode of moving people arrived in Dundee in 1877 and the system was owned by the city council. The main drawbacks were the expense of caring for the horses and the fact they struggled to cope with anything more than shallow gradients. After experiments with steam traction, all the city's tramways were converted to electric power by 1902. Heavy rail services to Dundee were vastly improved by the opening of the Tay Bridge in 1877. The North British Railway now had a much improved coastal link between Edinburgh and Aberdeen, allowing them to seriously challenge the Caledonian Company, who ran inland via Perth. The availability of the Tay Bridge removed the time-consuming constraint of transferring passengers and goods wagons to ferries, then back on to the railway. The next piece in the jigsaw would be the bridging of the Forth further south. Thomas Bouch designed the two-mile crossing of the silvery Tay. Several events conspired to cause the tragic collapse of the structure at the tail-end of 1879. The river bed was poorly surveyed and the assertion that it was lined with solid rock all the way across proved to be false. This prompted Bouch to hastily redraw his plans, using cheaper and lighter materials that could be supported by the clay and gravel ground sections. Initially, the bridge was a great success. The North British now carried over 80% of the Edinburgh to Aberdeen traffic and the journey time - even allowing for the Granton to Burntisland ferry transfer over the River Forth - was an hour shorter than the roundabout Caledonian connection. This state of affairs lasted a mere 14 months. A violent storm on a fateful December night caused the high central section of the bridge to fall as a train was making its way across. There were no survivors. 46 bodies were recovered and 59 death certificates produced, representing the number of people known to have been on the train. There may have been additional passengers who were subsequently unaccounted for. Bouch died a broken man 10 months after the tragedy. A more substantial replacement crossing opened in 1887 and the Forth was successfully bridged three years later. This railway now forms part of today's East Coast Main Line.



A large video screen showed colour footage of the trams running through the city. The system closed in 1956 after it was decided that diesel buses were the way forward. Virtually every other British city with a tram network came to a similar conclusion around this time. Blackpool was the exception. Thankfully, trams have been resurrected in several places around the UK but Edinburgh has been the only Scottish city (so far) to bring them back. The Beeching railway cuts of the 1960s hit Dundee and the wider county of Angus hard. Several routes were lost and the city also saw the demolition of the stunning Dundee West terminus (pictured above) - often described as the most tragic loss of railway architecture in the whole of Scotland. A veritable cathedral of steam. Closed in 1965, the site was cleared in order to create an approach road for the new Tay Road Bridge. The platforms below ground level were incorporated into the nearby Tay Bridge Station, which was renamed simply as Dundee. Another casualty was Dundee East, with the rationale of the time being that a small city didn't really need three main railway stations situated within walking distance of each other. These states of affairs arose across the country because the railway network was developed by private companies, who all wanted their own base. Joining up the dots was of secondary importance. I entered the hall dedicated to motor cars and an interesting exhibit was the PGE - a small electric vehicle from 1981. Built in Italy, it had a range of around 60 miles and a top speed of 37mph. Unsurprisingly, it never caught on commercially but does illustrate that experiments with electric power is not a new idea. One of the most famous automobiles on display at the museum is a licensed replica of the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car, which featured in the 1968 fantasy musical film of the same name. Chitty was able to fly and the Dundee model - naturally enough - has retractable wings built into the bodywork. A curious object was the Nutshell Caravan - manufactured in Dundee during the 1950s and designed to offer a low-cost holiday experience for two people (and a small child). Extremely light, it could be towed by almost any car and even a motorcycle at a push! The Nutshell proved popular across the UK. The tale of Pamela Scott had an interesting human angle. After starting her working life as a clippie (bus conductress), she became the first Scottish woman to earn her Public Service Vehicle (PSV) licence, in 1968. Despite the Dundee depot being short-staffed, her appointment as a driver was met by resistance from the male workers, who threatened to strike if women were employed in this capacity.



Ultimately the national union refused to sanction industrial action and Pamela took up her position behind the wheel. Women drivers are now commonplace but we are still nowhere near a 50/50 situation. I felt the museum offered a lot more than what I'd originally expected. It's certainly worth dropping in if you happen to be in the vicinity. I decided to take a wander up Albert Street and and Forfar Road to have a look at the new premises under development. On the way I climbed the "Frankenstein Steps" - a moody stone staircase by the site of the (now-demolished) mansion house where author Mary Shelley spent two summers during her teenage years. Her famous horror novel Frankenstein was published in 1818 when Shelley was aged just 20. She may well have drawn upon her Dundee trips for inspiration. Back then, she roamed the extensive grounds and gardens of the secluded villa while the burgeoning industrial city loomed in the distance. When I finally reached the old tram depot, the first thing I noticed was the presence of sunken rails on the forecourt - a good sign for sure. The site accommodated 70 tramcars and was later converted to a bus garage. Scottish Water took over the premises in the 1990s, using the facility to store vehicles and equipment. Since becoming vacant, the condition of the depot steadily deteriorated and it was placed on the Buildings at Risk Register. Thankfully the Transport Museum will breathe new life into the place. From where I stood, I could probably have kicked a football as far as the front door of my former student house. I spent a year living at 50 Forfar Road in 1993/94 and never knew the old tram depot existed. From my digs, I turned downhill towards the city centre and scarcely checked out the other direction. Exploring historic transport landmarks didn't feature on my radar back then (pubs yes).


 
 
 
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