The Colour Purple - worn with pride.

The word 'purple' comes from the Old English word purpul which derives from Latin purpura, in turn from the Greek πορφύρα (porphura),. For centuries, the purple dye trade was centred in the ancient Phoenician city of Tyre in modern day Lebanon. The Phoenicians' “Tyrian purple” came from a species of sea snail now known as Bolinus Brandaris, and it was so exceedingly rare that it became worth its weight in gold. 9,000 molluscs were needed to produce just one gram.

Roman Emperors chose to wear purple to reflect their power and the wealth of the Roman Empire. The colour was worn by rulers throughout the ancient world but also became associated with spiritual and religious leaders. 

Famously Queen Elizabeth I refused to allow anyone outside the royal family to wear it. Sumptuary laws during her reign regulated and restricted the colours and fabrics that could be worn by the different English classes. Purple attained regal status and it was not until the mid-1th century that a scientist experimenting to find an anti-malarial drug found a synthetic way to make the colour that it came into popular use.

All this brings me seamlessly to my own connection to the colour purple.  I attended Elmslie Girls’ Independent Grammar School here in Blackpool, founded by two sisters named Brodie and sited on Whitegate Drive in a substantial double-fronted detached house.  The school grounds were filled with Elm tree (hence the school’s name) and also abundant with crocus every spring, from which came the splendid purple and gold of the school uniform.

Attending an all girl’s school had its ups and downs. The atmosphere was great. Sports were very competitive and many students excelled in music, sciences and the arts. I hazard a guess that this was probably due to a lack of distractions by boys but it was also due to a great sense of camaraderie and identity.

The uniform was distinctive. A deep purple blazer, trimmed with gold braid and a brimmed, purple felt hat with a taffeta band adorned with a fabulous enamelled badge bearing the Red Rose of Lancashire and the crossed keys of St Peter, topped with the bishop’s mitre.  I really wish that I still had by hat badge. If anyone has a spare please feel free to contact me. 

On the downside, we Elmslie girls were affectionately called, The Purple Virgins. Needless to say that I have no comment to make on that score. I know what I know and I promise ladies my lips are sealed. We have a code of honour. We have a school song with a Latin motto. Attending Elmslie was a little like being a student at Hogwarts. We had our secret passageways, spooky staircase and archaic sick bay too.

I am proud to have been an Elmslie girl and loved wearing my purple regalia. It carried a certain kudos and on through my lifetime it has opened a few select doors.  I am still in touch with many of my school friends and as 2018 would have been the school’s centenary, (sadly it closed over a decade ago and the building has been converted into luxury apartments), we are celebrating with a weekend of events in May.

Hundreds of former purple virgins will be gathering in Blackpool in the spirit of friendship and reunion that we sang in the school song so many years ago.  Eat your heart out J K Rowling.

Omne bonum, dei donum

Is the motto of our school

All good gifts they come from heaven

To be grateful is our rule.

Midst the splendour of the elm trees,

In a shady place and cool,

Towering up above the branches,

Stand our much loved Elmslie School.

Omne bonum dei donum

Omne bonum dei donum.

Joys and sorrows both are known there,

Battles are both lost and won.

Fearlessly we all press onwards,

Happy when the task is done.

When our schooldays are behind us

And fresh duties we pursue,

Memories then will crowd upon us

And old friendships we’ll renew.

Omne bonum dei donum

Omne bonum dei donum.

"It matters much more what a girl is than what she does, and if you have learnt to work hard, play hard, keep faith, forget self, help others, you will have begun to be, in the highest sense of the word, a useful member of society. I would remind you of the famous words, "To labour and to love is the sum of living".

Miss Elizabeth Brodie
July 1928

Thanks for reading. Adele

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Lost Blackpool - a walk through memory.

It's an interesting theme.  I was thrilled by an exhibition of photographs at Stanley Park Visitor's Centre during summer 2015.  I took Mum along and she told me some of her recollections of The Palace Ballroom and Raikes Hall Gardens, with its wonderful entrance gates.  My Great-Grandfather was a major shareholder in the company and we have his will, a huge scripted document on parchment with a wax seal.  The description of assets held is strange reading and is better left for another audience. It was a very long time ago.

Today I want to take you on a walk around the Blackpool of my childhood. The year is 1969.  We arrive in Blackpool on the Ribble 158: A double decker, red bus that travels hourly from Preston via Kirkham and Weeton along Preston New Road to the Oxford. Thomas Motors and The Oxford Pub are situated here.  We turn right into Whitegate Drive, passing a building that I am sad to say was called The Spastic Society, then Elmslie Girl's Grammar School on the right.  Whitegate Drive is lined by elegant houses and attractive shops. We pass The Heatlth Centre, an imposing red brick building that was formerly a hospital, then on to Devonshire Square. The Number Three is here, (so called because it was the third stop on the original coaching route to Preston) and we journey along to Devonshire Road Hospital at the corner of Talbot Road. There are bus depots here and Talbot Road bus station.  As usual it is busy. At least ten buses stop here at one time. People queue under shelter but it is vast and cold.

The walk down to Queen Street is not unpleasant.  The tiled, Art Deco, Odeon Cinema is just along on Dixon Road but we turn left to pass the Central Library and Grundy Art Gallery. This is a very select part of town.  There are two furriers, Springs and Gladys Whittaker, several gown shops including Chez Elle and Diana Warren, Harts the Silversmith, Lawley's china shop and The Capo di Monte Centre. There is a card shop, a lingerie shop, a bag shop and Data Furniture. Cave's Corner is there too as we turn onto Maybelle  Avenue.  Here on the left is MacFisheries and a sewing machine shop. Opposite is a tiny chocolate shop, where I buy a single Cote D'or bouchee with my pocket money.  Abingdon Street is lovely.  The Post Office, curtain fabric shop, jewellers and Hunters outfitters on the corner of Clifton Street, with a man on horseback jumping a fence.

We will walk down here toward the Tivoli cinema: It is my favourite thing to do.  There is a pet shop in the arcade that leads back onto Talbot Road and a wooden native American Indian stands on the pavement outside The Smoker's Choice. On the opposite side is The Oyster Catcher.  Beneath The Tivoli is The Bossley Grill steakhouse. So we cross the road, past the Town Hall and there is Edwald's fabric shop and on the right, upstairs, opposite British Home Stores, my parent's favourite Lobster Pot Restaurant. Onto Bank Hey Street now, near the Tower.  Lewis's on the right, Chelsea girl on the left, then RHO Hills and then a large corner, Marks & Spencer and the biggest Woolworths. There is another on Talbot Road.

No time for fish and chips at Hesketh's today. So we turn onto Victoria Street. On the left is Charisse, a very chic children's clothing shop, The Little Vic pub (that should have been saved). On the right, Collette's boutique, then the Gazette building with its imposing tower and useful clock. We nip through to the Grand Theatre entrance and nip into the UCP for a pot of tea and toasted teacake. As we walk up Church Street, I can see the giant teddy bear in Timpson's shoe shop, Laura Lynn on the right and Dolcis on the corner. Orry's school outfitters, Brown & Mallilieu luxury cars, then Vernon Humpage and The Danish Kitchen.  We have to run for the bus now, along King street passing the ABC cinema, Ardron's hardware and St John's indoor market hall.

Quite a trip wasn't it? The streets of Blackpool were clean, classy and beautiful. This week, I have written a poem about a building that was intentionally pulled down in the early 1990's, despite public opinion.  Built in 1939, it was a National treasure, a public asset and its loss was felt by local people for many years.

 

Demolition Derby

It was a National disgrace.

An act of near-sightedness,
The crushing of civic pride,
to a 'just-for-profit' mess 

An Olympian building crumbled

Under the wrecking ball

And after the dust cloud settled
Nothing remained at all. 

Elegant Art Deco Styling,

Tiling of Ocean Blue,

A towering treasure for leisure,
with sensational promenade view.

The pool was a full eighty meters,

Divided in swimming lanes,

with springboards and high diving platforms
attracting the top sporting names.  

They hosted the National Champions,

And Wiesmuller summered a show.

Yes Tarzan was here for a season,
everyone packed in, row on row.   

And each year, The Interschool’s Gala,

Would echo to raucous degree,

With colour block scarves and blazers, 
Arnold, Queen Mary, Montgomery.   

And I would be there in purple and gold,

Cheering my peers in the heats,

As the frenzy arose in the final,
We'd be screaming and standing on seats.  

It stood sixty years from the thirties,

They said it was past its prime,

The Derby Baths was forgotten,

The memory faded with time. 

They gave us an ugly Sandcastle

At South Shore, by the sea,

Not a pool where kids could exercise,

Just a mammoth monstrosity. 

Now all that we have is a wave pool

That bobs with obese bums and thighs.

No swimming lanes or high boards:

Just loads of blubber-filled slides.

The demolition of Derby Baths,
Began Blackpool’s unhealthy demise,

How could councillors look to the future

with pound signs clouding their eyes? 

 

Thank  you for reading. Adele

 

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