like a good book, never judge a brick by its cover
our usual advice applies about visitors not eating the collections (please) but on this case it feels particularly pertinent
This brick arrived in our collection from a demolition site at the the junction of Church Street and Letcombe Street in Reading. Not to suggest it made the journey all by itself. Although our archive notes certainly don't say anything otherwise.
Since the medieval period, brickmaking has been a major part of Reading's heritage and industry. In fact, by the 1800s, there were many kilns and tile-makers across the town. Now we have museums. Like us.
The largest of Reading's brickmakers was 'S & E Collier', and the town remains well-known for its famous Reading red bricks.
in fact, whilst Reading Festival is on this weekend, we have a secret suspicion that the main reason thousands of teens are pouring into town is for precisely this: to see the beautiful red bricks, of which the little piece of very hard candy in our photograph is one
pov: you are a tiny red brick, bearing the word 'CANDY', and causing delightful confusion amidst your brick and tile peers
ultimately what we are trying to say is that Reading has what can only be described as Big Brick Energy
we care about red bricks all the more because though we're made of pixels we first were made of brick, like so much of the town and further, and lots of them together, in a way we still think is very nice indeed (if it's okay to post a little sunny selfie)
we are not going to start stocking bricks in the café, but there's nothing to stop you bringing a brick with you and picnicking in the garden
it's 5pm UK time which means we're turning off the lights and calling it a day. in our absence, if anyone would like a challenge: please recreate this brick at home ...but make it cake
[twenty-five 13th century barons rock up at the museum entrance]
not again
if you are a 13th century baron and keen to visit the museum, we politely ask that you:
- please continue wearing a face covering
- book in advance (so that we can control the number of barons on-site)
- hitch ye noble steeds by the bike stands, probably
The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and we have found something wonderful in our archive that we want to share with you.
Like many of the best things in life, it is all about bees.
(a thread)
In 1892, there was a sixteen-year-old boy who loved bees very much. Not so much that he became a bee, but he did become a renowned and widely published bee expert.
His name was Frederick William Lambert Sladen. And this the story of one of his earliest works.
For context: our library holds tens of thousands of volumes. There are rare books, un-rare books, pamphlets and periodicals, from the 1500s to the present day.
It's like an incredible collection of Pokémon cards; only the cards are pieces of the jigsaw puzzle of rural history.
This year, we’re celebrating our 70th anniversary with 51 Voices: a year-long exhibition, available for you to view online, featuring 51 new interpretations of parts of our collection.
In our latest blog, learn about the five new responses added to the exhibition last month!
be nice, say hello, share the space
The title comes from the Country Code, which is mentioned within this roundup. And while it's particularly mandated as you ramble through the countryside, we also advocate for all three of these as you explore the museum galleries!