From Swindon to Swanage, Sunderland to Southampton, blue plaques have become an ornament that most aspiring towns wish to persue.
London first started the craze way back in the 1800’s, sticking them up on the outside of buildings, although not always blue in the early days, often brown to save a little money.
The intention is always to highlight the lives of those who once dwelled within, or the edifice which formerly stood before getting bulldozed to make way for ‘progress’…oh goodness I’m beginning to sound very much like the developer’s apprentice.
Each one is made entirely by hand, and there’s a fella called Dan in Chepstow to prove it. Various potters have tried their hand, and so each has its distinct flavour, some not even being round, which can confuse.
So how does one earn a plaque? Well, firstly you need to be nominated by a number of admirers, and secondly, perhaps the single greatest hurdle, your healthy demise needs to have occurred 20 years previously, although I suspect by that time most would be beyond caring.
These little trinkets do at least encourage me to look up from the cracks in the pavement, and I suppose that’s precisely the point. Beyond the terracotta glaze, I often find myself wondering: who exactly was this person? More often than not, the answer is someone I’ve never heard of before.
These little trinkets do make me look up though from the cracks in the pavement, and I suppose that’s precisely the point. Alongside the terracotta glaze, I tend to wonder, who is this…oh I’ve never heard of them before my common surprise.
Nowadays, with the help of the information autobahn its pretty easy to scroll and shed a little light on a mystery.
I ambled past this particular one to a fella who’s something of a legend in the Philippines, yet to me totally unknown.
Everyday brings new delights and I guess that’s the true beauty of these eye-catching discs.
