reds under the bed?
Dated but timeless, Ward Lock’s Red Guides accompanied my childhood journeys to exotic places; exotic from my narrow horizons in a Portsmouth suburb. They are illustrated with monochrome photos that, even when new, looked faded. The fading is echoed in other remembered media. Television series Dangerman, and later The Prisoner, had been filmed in many of the locations featured in those that covered the north of Cymru. Programmes of that ilk can now be watched online, and betray the same poor contrast, definition or focus. They are all the more evocative for it. In a metaphor for ancient memories, the films are wearing out, even the digitising degrading over time.
Back then, it was as if I too was entering this fiction, far away from a humdrum city life. Portmeirion doubled as Italy (the village often described as “Italianate” anyway), and mountain passes became somewhere behind the Iron Curtain. I wouldn't have known then, but Nantmor had become the Great Wall of China for cinema, traces of which can still be seen, such as the prop of a Chinese gate repurposed as a garage door. I now inhabit these places in reality, lured here by language culture and adoptive family. I have learned true stories of espionage among the same hills; of those who sought refuge and anonymity here (see links).
The books are smaller and thinner than the average paperback, and easily pocketable, almost giving them the appeal of a spy manual. But genteel. They are introduced as “pleasant travelling companions”. Fold out line-drawn maps are as delicate as the memories they elicit. Other illustrations are pen and ink drawings of notable buildings, bridges and steam railways. The series covered everywhere we went as a family, or never quite did, from Cymru to Cumbria, Dorset to Durham, Surrey to Scotland. Their timely introduction, a century ago, coincided with the opening up of the countryside, and of the picturesque, to ordinary people. Modern “rambling” had only recently begun through the work of the Cooperative movement, Arts and Crafts and the Christian Socialists. Readers were reminded that "no excursion ... should be undertaken without a reliable map, waterproofs ... and a stout stick".
Social history indeed. Long before my time, older guides contain adverts that betray much about the prevailing zeitgeist, even on front and end boards. In the 1920s these promoted aperients, auctioneers, insurance, patent remedies, and fund-raising for the “voluntary hospitals”. The kind of advertising that persuaded my parents, or maybe even theirs, to keep a crusty old bottle of Dr J Collis-Browne’s Chlorodyne for many years in their bathroom cabinet. I don’t know if they knew that it contained opium, cannabis and chloroform. An indexed section lists "hotels, boarding establishments, schools and estate agents at the principal resorts"; also advertising electric light, hot and cold running water, steamer ship and charabanc excursions.
An edition from the early 1960s caught my attention:
“Next time you pass the Westminster [bank], call in and see the Manager. He’ll explain how they can help you”. NatWest had 1300 branches then; 470 today, and fading. And not a manager to be seen. While a student fifty years ago I was summoned by one, to be reprimanded over my overdraft (£10 as I recall) and lack of income. Now they would be replaced by an "app" persuading me to take out a loan.
Sixty years ago, the guides introduced me to Cymru. Through them I see Bermo, Llanfairfechan and Llangollen very much as I remember them. Despite caveats, even in later editions, that details were liable to alteration by wartime conditions, the places haven’t changed dramatically. Although I heard Cymraeg spoken and sung in Llangollen much more so then than I would today, sadly. I have acquired a few old editions of the Red Guides, and keep them in a box. From time to time I enjoy the delicious nostalgia in randomly exploring the monochrome memories.
LINKS
The Inn of the Sixth Happiness - Beddgelert Past
Tales of espionage in four ports: Portsmouth, Portland, Porthmadog, Portmeirion. Part 2.
The Counter Revolution of the Rambling Rodneys
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I look forward to your comments. Also it would be nice to know where you are in the world. Thanks for reading.