Bekonscot

I grew up in a family that offered me dolls of George Washington Carver, Amelia Earhart, and Susan B. Anthony. Barbies weren’t allowed due to the stereotypical gender roles they might reinforce. Little did my parents realize that my play with these dolls usually went something like this:

(Susan B. Anthony stands over the stove, pouring milk into a pot.  George Washington Carver enters through the front door.)

Susan B (glancing over her shoulder):  George, is that you?  

GWC:  Yes, Sue, I’m home from work early!

Susan B:  Great!  Dinner is almost ready. I hope pot roast is okay.  How was work, Dear?

GWC:  You know, Sue, same old, same old.  Another day, another dollar. Are those mashed potatoes you’re making? 

My favorite playdates were often at my friend Katie’s house because Katie’s mom allowed her to reinforce gender stereotypes with toys appropriate for the task. Katie’s dolls had wardrobes!  They weren’t burdened with sewn-on Votes for Women sashes!  Katie had Barbies and Skippers and Kens and mansions and ski chalets for them to explore. But the real reason I begged for playdates at Katie’s house (just kidding, Katie, you’re awesome!) is that Katie had Barbie Loves McDonald’s.  Barbie Loves McDonald’s was a McDonald’s, in miniature!  Tiny burger boxes, tiny fries, and tiny trays on which to serve up the orders. Tiny spatulas and tongs, tiny cash registers and even a tiny tray return atop one of those trash receptacles with Thank You engraved on the tiny swinging door.

 

I spent many happy hours at Katie’s house dressing Barbie in heels and a McDonald’s uniform and sending her off to cheerfully serve up burgers, fries, and Filets o’ Fish to Ken and other Kens when they took a surfing break and wandered in from the beach leaving trails of sand all over the restaurant floor that Barbie and Skipper would have to sweep up at the end of the shift.

I suspect that Barbie Loves McDonald’s was where my love for miniatures began.  I’ve tried to keep this love in check, but to this day, if there’s a diorama or a scale model anywhere within a few miles, forget it; you’ve lost me for at least an hour.  So, when I learned (from watching the “Small Mercies” episode of Midsomer Murders, if you’re curious), that Beaconsfield is home to the oldest model village in the UK, I put it on the wanderlist.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present:

Bekonscot Model Village and Railway (about 30 miles outside of London) was created in the 1920’s by Roland Callingham, an accountant with a penchant for model railways.  Mr. Callingham’s back garden was reportedly a sight to behold with a swimming pool and tennis courts for entertaining Mr. Callingham’s frequent and aristocratic guests.

One day, as the story goes, Mrs. Callingham, fed up with the increasing square footage Roland’s trains were taking up inside the house, offered an ultimatum.  It’s me or the trains, Roland.  Loving both his trains and Mrs. Callingham in equal measure, Roland did what any sensible man in his position would do — he recruited the help of his gardener, his maid, and a few other members of his staff, and they turned the swimming pool into a “sea,” bulldozed the tennis courts, and moved the trains outside.

After this, it’s likely that Mrs. Callingham saw Mr. Callingham far less frequently because once the trains were outside, Roland must have noticed that a train alone in a back garden (no matter how impressive that garden might be) was a sad thing indeed. Trains need train stations to stop at and villages to pass through, so Roland and the gardener started making houses and villages (6 of them) and tiny people to live in them. (Perhaps getting Roland to move his puttering to the garden was Mrs. Callingham’s goal all along.  We’ll never know.)

Today, the Bekonscot Model Village and Railway offers around 2 acres of tiny wonderment with up to 12 trains running through it at any given time. (Never one to do things by halves, our Roland.)

The internet offers up several articles about why humans are obsessed with miniatures.  The predominant theory is that miniatures give us a sense of control in a chaotic world.  Another theory proposed is that we’re hardwired by evolution to be enchanted by small things.  Otherwise, our indifference toward our own offspring would leave them vulnerable for a lion’s lunch.  After spending a morning at Bekonscot, I’ve come up with two more reasons miniatures (specifically these) deserve our love.

1. If you, like me, could happily pass a day in a coffee shop or airport making up stories and histories for everyone that passes by, Bekonscot is for you.  There are entire villages of vignettes to spur your imagination.

   

    

2. Bekonscot embodies that beautiful British eccentricity and humor and the politeness the entire country shares to not mention your gone-round-the-bendness in public (You might find your sanity questioned on the front page of the local paper, but in person?  No way!)

You love to make tiny scale models or photograph post boxes or collect flowers from roundabouts?  Brits will mention an especially lovely postbox they saw recently in a nearby village and bring you vases from the charity shop to help you organize your roundabout flowers.  You find (as Mr. Callingham did) that your passion revolves around populating tiny villages, and your maid and gardener will happily help you pour the molds.

Walk through Bekonscot, and you’re nearly blinded by Roland Callingham’s passion and humor; thinking about all the folks that helped him, believed in him (Mrs. Callingham perhaps not withstanding), and then carried on his vision while donating all the profits to charity, well, it’s a beautiful thing.

I visited Bekonscot on a cold, rainy day with no kids in tow and had a great time.  I can’t imagine NOT having a good time on a visit here.  I would recommend not going alone because you’re going to find yourself saying, “Oh!  Look at that!  Look over there!  Oh my, did you see that!” a lot, and you probably want someone to say those things to.  Be sure to check the website  as Bekonscot is open seasonally.  Other than that, go with kids, go without them, go when it’s raining, go when the sun is out.  No matter when you visit, a trip to Bekonscot will make whatever may trouble you in your own life seem, well, small.