Hello everyone, I'm Rebecca the Assistant Curator here at ShowTown. I hope that you're enjoying Seaside Week so far.
Today we're going to step back in time and explore some of the more gross and gruesome aspects of taking a trip
to Blackpool in the past
So let's begin by imagining it is the late 1800s and we're a mill worker from Manchester.
We've been suffering a bit with various aches and pains and we've heard that doctors are
telling people to go to the seaside to feel better. Blackpool is renowned at this time
for its fresh air and cold seawater which many people believe will cure a wide variety
of illnesses.
But the first thing we need to do is to get there. If you had money you could travel in
a coach but for a mill worker like us it is much cheaper to come by horse and cart.
We don't want to waste our money on that however, so we're going to walk, all the way from Manchester
to Blackpool, roughly around 50 miles. Luckily we don't have much to bring with us, so let's set off!
[Doorbell Noise]
Oh we've finally arrived that was tiring and we're looking forward to getting settled into our
accommodation for the night. But there's a slight problem. It seems like everyone has had the same
idea as us. The boarding houses are full to bursting. In some of them there are thirty
people crammed into a room, with six people to a bed! There's no room for us. Luckily
after walking round for a while we manage to persuade a man called Robert Bickerstaffe
to sleep in one of his bathing machines opposite his Wellington Hotel. If you haven't seen one before
before, a bathing machine is a hut on wheels that are pulled into the sea by horses and you
get changed in them to protect your modesty before slipping out into the waves.
If you don't want to venture into the open sea you can always go to Read's Baths where
you can bathe indoors in warm filtered seawater. If you don't own a costume you can hire one
but many people will have worn it before you! So let's hope they were thoroughly washed!
We settle down in our bathing machine to rest, lying on the damp hard floor with the cold wind rushing in.
The next morning our aches and pains are worse than ever, so we decide to go out and test
Blackpool's health improving reputation. We grit our teeth and paddle in the sea up to
our knees and then we remember that our friend gave us some advice. They said that drinking
the seawater makes you feel much better and so we bend down and scoop some up in our hands
and take a big gulp.
Our eyes water and we splutter from the salt. Catching our breath we look down and notice
a large cloud of brown floating by in the water. We don't want to look too closely and
pretend we haven't seen it. Later in the 1930s people known as Sanitary Inspectors would
walk up and down the sands looking for what they called 'floaters' as at that time 60%
of Blackpool's sewage flowed into the sea from two pipes located between Central and South
Pier. But don't worry - the sewage was properly screened, meaning that it was ground up before
it left the pipes so that it would not be quite so noticeable!
We need to get this seawater taste out of our mouth and so we start walking up the beach.
We spot an ice cream cart and hurry over to take our place at the back of a line of other
hungry people. When we reach the front we pay a penny and watch as the seller smears
a blob of ice cream on a small shallow glass. This is known as a penny lick. When we have
licked the glass clean we hand it back to the seller who picks up an unwashed cloth
and briefly wipes the glass. He then smears more ice cream on it for the next person. These
penny licks would later be banned for spreading diseases like tuberculosis.
Having had our treat we notice crowds of people up ahead on the sands. We wander through the
various stalls and watch acrobats, musicians, puppet shows and fortune tellers. There are
traders selling all kinds of things such as fruit, toys, jewellery and every ointment,
potion and tonic you could think of.
We spot the largest group of people in a circle and wander over to take a look. Here a chiropodist
has set up and is offering to treat people's feet, for money of course. Soon people are peeling off
their sweaty shoes for him to saw at their corns and calluses whilst the delighted crowd watches on.
These alfesco chiropodists were usually removed from the beach by Blackpool Corporation as
they were thought to be fraudulent and offensive. I imagine the smell probably was too!
And so that concludes our seaside trip to Victorian Blackpool. Thankfully things are
much more hygienic today! If you would like to see more of the photographs shown here
please visit the new Heritage Blackpool website at heritageblackpool.co.uk
Thanks very much for watching. Bye!