Guided tour

For visitors who wish to be navigated around the space, please click on the video below for the Buckinghamshire Museums gallery guided tour.

For screen reader users to follow is the wall panel text and audio descriptions for the 3D models or you can download the text as a Microsoft Word document.

Celebrating disability history in Buckinghamshire where the Paralympics began

This gallery explores disability from Roman times, through the nineteenth century to the present day. The exhibits come from local Buckinghamshire Museum collections and include personal items belonging to young people from participating special education needs schools who have co-curated this gallery with our museum trainees at the National Paralympic Heritage Trust. 

Co-curated by the NPHT museum trainees, participating museums and schools.

Participating Museums 

Amersham Museum, Buckingham Old Gaol Trust, Chesham Museum, Milton’s Cottage, Milton Keynes Museum and Roald Dahl Museum.

Participating Schools 

Furze Down School, Heritage House School, Pebble Brook Community School, Slated Row School, Stony Dean School and ALTR RISE College.

Museum Trainees 

Ben Laferlla, Thomas McCobb, Adam Navarro and Simon Stiel. 

Roman Votive Pot, Roman

This Roman pot was found at Stanton Low and is a miniature version of a large storage vessel. When a person in Roman times faced an illness or ailment a votive was offered to the gods to ask them to provide a cure. Object from Milton Keynes Museum, chosen by Slated Row School. Written by Ben Laferlla.

Reflection by Ben Laferlla 

I am drawn to this object as I've always had an interest in ritual practices, where people throughout history have tried to establish communication or connection with what they consider divine, to make a positive change. This is of course at odds with modern medical practice and the practical ways in which Guttmann treated his patients. Interestingly, some Paralympic athletes carry lucky charms.

Materials: Ceramic.
Dimensions: Height 8cm. Width 7cm. 
Weight: 131g. 

Audio description

This is a ceramic object that is shaped like a mini vase of some kind.  It has a round body which extends to a narrower neck, and at the bottom it narrows again to form a base. The votive pot is very small and could fit in the palm of your hand. The object has had some work done by a conservator.  This is somewhat apparent.  When touching its surface you can feel parts of the votive are the original ceramic and other parts are the material that has been added to piece the fragments together. The fragments seem to have the remains of a brownish orange colour of paint work.  It is too faded to make out any tangible design, besides a faint darker brown line that seems to have encircled the middle of the vase. The votive has a smooth texture overall but has tiny holes and bumps that give it some degree of roughness to touch. It is clearly a handmade object as it has inconsistencies and uneven edges at its base and the hole at the top. 

Gibson spoon, 1828

This strange looking spoon was invented by Charles Gibson in 1828. It was a medicine spoon advertised for using with “lunatics and fractious children”. With the medicine in the covered spoon, and your thumb over the end, you put it in the patient’s mouth. When you took your thumb off the end, the change in pressure would allow the medicine to shoot into the patient’s mouth before they could object. There are evident bite marks from resistant patients which reflect a more sinister past of forced medicating and a potential lack of understanding of a patient’s needs. Object from Amersham Museum, chosen by Stony Dean School.

Reflection by Stony Dean School

I think this object is horrible, and frightening to the people who were made to use it, making them gag. 

Materials: Pewter metal
Dimensions: Length 16cm, width 3cm, height 1.5cm 
Weight: 74g

Co-created audio description

This object reminds us of an ice lolly or a small trowel. It would fit from the tip of your middle finger to the heel of your hand and sits nicely in your palm. The handle is about one third of the length of the total object. It’s made of pewter, and it’s cast all in one piece. It’s dull, battleship grey, quite crude, and it looks like it’s been well-used. It’s hollow, so the part where you would hold it is like a straw. If you were to tap it with your fingernail, it would sound the same as when you tap a fork. 

The object is a Gibson spoon, named after Charles Gibson, who invented these in the 1820s as a way of giving medicine to people. It was part of a collection of objects that belonged to a pharmacy in Amersham. 

The handle of the spoon has a disc around it a little way from the open end that reminds us of a drip tray. 

If you imagine the spoon was an ice lolly and you were looking at the very top, there is a hole there. It reminds us of a cartoon fish or Jaws or a face. There are indentations around the hole that look like teeth marks. On the upper surface of the enclosed spoon there is a flap the shape of a church window on a hinge that looks like three buttons. 

You could introduce medicine into the spoon either by lifting the flap and pouring the medicine into the bowl, or you could pour medicine through the hole at the handle end. The purpose of the hinged flap is that you push it down and then the medicine doesn't spill because it's enclosed. The little hole at the top that looks like a fish would be put to the lips, and then someone would tip up the spoon so the medicine went into the mouth. 

It reminds us that in Victorian times there was the attitude that the state knew best and could force you to take medicine against your will. It might have been used to give medicine to people who could not afford to buy it for themselves, or to children who did not understand.

We were not allowed to touch this object because it might have been used to dispense arsenic, and this would be harmful to anyone who touched the spoon. It’s unlikely that the spoon would have been cleaned or disinfected in between uses. 

We remember that most of the time people who administered medicine in this way believed they were acting for the good of the patient. Whilst we find these attitudes problematic, we wonder whether people will feel the same in future about medicine administered via cannula or injection. 
 

Portrait bust of John Milton, 1865

This is a portrait bust of John Milton (1608-1674). He was a writer and a poet who moved to Chalfont St Giles to escape the plague in London. He began to lose his sight around 1646 and by the time he wrote the poem he is famous for, Paradise Lost, he was blind in both eyes. Object from Milton’s Cottage. Written by Adam Navarro.

Reflection by Adam Navarro

I admire John Milton because despite going blind he wrote his most famous book, Paradise Lost and never gave up even though he had lost one of his key senses.

Materials: Porcelain. 
Dimensions: Width 27 cm. Height 35cm. Depth 12cm.
Weight: 27.80kg.

Co-created audio description

This is the top half of a figurine; a bust. It is the head and shoulders of a man but it is hard to tell whether he’s young or old. 

It’s plaster of some sort and quite heavy; it’s perhaps a quarter life-size. He’s wearing 
type of tunic – a jacket with buttons up the front and a largish collar. It has a tassel tie around the neck. 

The bust is smooth, but the features are prominent. The hair is very clear, and you can see all the individual strands. It’s shoulder-length. The bust is a creamy white colour. It reflects the light and is very cold. 

It stands on a round plinth about the same size as my palm. It's a two-stage plinth with a carved part at the bottom; it's square on a round base. 

The bust goes down to the middle of his chest and then cuts away and he's got no arms, so it drops off at his shoulders and at the back it scoops round so it doesn't look like he's got a back. Where his hair ends, just below the shoulder, it just drops away in a curved shape.

It is nice to hold because you can get your fingers round the back and your thumbs at the front. So even though it's not something that's supposed to be picked up it's quite tactile. The textures created by the way that the light falls give the effect of a wrinkle of shirt under the armpits. You can see his cheekbones and a bit of jowl.

He has quite a thoughtful expression, but he's looking into the middle distance, like a Greek God. We get a sense of a man of thought and thinking, of consideration, but also melancholy. His expression, his eyes, his eyebrows sort of droop downwards which makes him look sad. It invokes feelings of candlelight, a dark panelled room, books, and portraits on the wall.

There is some detail on the eyes; they are not completely blank, but they have a sort-of glazed look.

If we spin him around, there is an engraving of the name at the back, Milton. It also says London. 

It's a 19th century replica, taken from one of the few portraits of Milton made during his lifetime. The portrait was painted in his old age and after he went blind. At this time, almost every middle-class household would have had a bust of Shakespeare and a bust of Milton. There was a high demand for replicas.

Milton came to Chalfont Saint Giles from London to escape the plague; he wrote Paradise Lost here not long after the restoration of the monarchy. As he had worked for Cromwell, many people considered him lucky to have escaped with his life. The thoughtfulness we notice may reflect the fact that he has lost his political dreams, but he is still able to continue writing poetry.

He was in his early forties when he started losing his sight and was blind by the time he was about forty-five. He described his deteriorating vision, talking about it narrowing down in his left eye to a pinprick, and then his right eye and then it totally going. Most people think he either had glaucoma or perhaps retinitis pigmentosa. He himself put it down to sheer overwork and eye strain. 
 

Wicker basket, 1930s-1960s

Arthur Clark made this basket at his business based behind Station Road in Chesham. He was originally a Baker’s Apprentice but started going blind at the age of 20. Despite this, he still fought in WW1, including at the Battle of the Somme. When he returned home, he studied at a college for the blind in London where he learned basket weaving. He was renowned in the town for his high-quality shopping baskets, dog baskets and cradles.  Object from Chesham Museum, chosen by Heritage House School. Written by Simon Stiel.

Reflection by students from Heritage House School

We really like that the basket was made by someone in Chesham, close to our school. It is amazing that he could make this when he was blind, it must have been tricky. I like that he had his own shop to sell his baskets for people to use! 

Materials: Willow.
Dimensions: Length 33cm. Width 26cm. Height 36cm. 
Weight: 600g.

Co-created audio description

This is a basket made out of wicker. It’s a caramel brown colour, like gingerbread. We can feel the bumps and waves where the wicker has been woven but the wicker itself is smooth.

It’s rectangular with round corners, and you could fit a stack of dinner plates in it, or some children’s toys. You could use it as a picnic basket or to carry fruit that you had just picked. We can imagine it full of food covered in a gingham cloth. 

If we turn it over, we can see and feel the way that the wicker has been woven from the bottom and up and around. It’s handmade and a great deal of effort has gone into making it. 

It feels very sturdy, and it creaks as it moves. It smells woody, but also of old dust, like if you clear out an attic or a cupboard that hasn't been opened for a long time.

The bottom of the basket is flat and woven in the same way as you would make a raft out of logs. From this bottom part, several ribs rise up and the wicker is woven in between them. It reminds us of a spider’s web. The top of the basket and the handle are plaited, and the handle is a lighter colour where it has been held and used. Where the handle is attached to the main part of the basket the wicker is fastened together in a succession of knots. 

It was made by Buckinghamshire craftsman Arthur Clark. He started going blind at 20, but still fought in World War One. When he returned, he studied basket weaving at the Royal National College for the Blind in London and then set up his business in Chesham. He was known locally as the person to go to if you wanted something wicker and he made baskets for carrying shopping, for pets, for harvesting and foraging, and also wicker boxes for storing all manner of objects, and wicker cradles. 

It is an example of a craft and a home industry that was part of the local area and has since disappeared. 

This object reminds us that basket-making was previously associated with people who had no prospects of working in other industries, and who were perhaps in residential care. Individuals working in these settings would not have profited from their skills and abilities. Basket-making is a very skilled profession, and in Arthur Clark’s case, instead of being a symbol of exploitation and discrimination, it was a route to his independence. He was an entrepreneur and a successful businessman.

We have enjoyed exploring this object that was made by someone's hands and which we can also touch, and this experience has enabled us to produce a description that perhaps Arthur Clark himself might have found useful in a museum.  

Spastic Society bell, pre-1994

This hand-held bell was given as a reward to individuals who had raised more than £100 for the then Spastics Society. The Spastic Society changed its name to Scope in 1994.  Object from Buckingham Old Gaol Trust, chosen by Furze Down School. Written by Adam Navarro.

Reflection by students from Furze Down School

The object is interesting because the original name of the Charity is offensive to us today and shows how language around disability has developed. 

Materials: Brass and wood.
Dimensions: Width 11cm. Height 22cm. Depth 2.5 cm.  
Weight: 680g.

Co-created audio description

This handbell was found hidden in a store cupboard. The cup is brass, and it has a wooden handle with a brass top. The actual base fits in your palm. Vertically, it’s the size of a large hand and the handle is more than half of its height. 

The clapper inside the bell is on a chain with three links. The bell is quite heavy, about the weight of half a bag of sugar. 

The light reflects off the main part of the bell. There’s a dull mirror effect that means that every person will see their own face, distorted. 

It’s all very shiny. The metal of the bell is polished and smooth. The handle is wood, but it's been lacquered or polished or varnished. There are some tiny little chips or air bubbles in the ridges on the handle. These are the only parts of it that aren't very smooth and shiny. They've got a slightly whitish colour. It looks like this might be because of the application of the varnish or polish. 

As we handled the bell, the clapper made a high-pitched clear ringing sound when it came into contact with the inside of the cup. We didn’t ring the bell because we were inside when we were describing the bell and we thought it was designed to be rung outside. 

There is an inscription on the front of the bell.

It says: from the Spastics Society with appreciative thanks. Time to help. Spastics. ‘From the Spastics Society’ and ‘Time to help. Spastics’ is all in big block capitals and the ‘with appreciative thanks’ is in lowercase. 
 
We find the use of the word Spastic alarming. It was originally a medical term and then was used by the Spastics Society to describe people with cerebral palsy. This simplistic use of language reduces people to one symptom. The word then became a playground insult. It brings back memories of the collection boxes outside shops shaped like children wearing callipers. 

In the plural, ‘Spastics’ creates a homogenous group, a set of people who are all the same, and also other and different.

The bell would have been presented as a token of thanks to an individual or organisation that had raised over £100 for the Society. It would have been received with pride. 

This is a good example of the charity model.  According to this model, if you're not disabled you give to disabled people to help them. 

The bell is valid as a historical object, despite the fact that it's upsetting, because it crystallises a moment in history that we need to remember so that we don't go back there. 
  

Roald Dahl’s writing chair, pre-1960s

This armchair is where the famous writer sat to write many of his children’s classics. As Roald had a spinal injury, which was a result of crashing his plane as a fighter pilot during WW2, the chair put pressure on his lower back. So, Roald adapted the chair for his disability by cutting a large hole in the back of it to make it more comfortable. Object from the Roald Dahl Museum and Story Centre chosen by Pebble Brook School.

Reflection by Museum Trainees

This chair was in Dahl’s writing shack for many years, where he wrote his famous children's books. I think this chair is really intriguing because while we know it was made by Parker Knoll, the hinges on the arm rest suggest that they opened outwards, but this isn’t a common design for the company, so was it adapted? We know it belonged to Roald’s mother originally and Roald adapted it to alleviate the pain in his back by cutting out a big hole in the lower back of the chair. This would have been a really, expensive chair so it’s quite funny how he just cut a hole out of it.

Material: Fabric, wood and metal.
Dimensions: Height 117cm. Width 77cm. Depth 79cm. 
Weight: weight of an average armchair approximately 30kg.     

Co-created audio description

This is a rather old-fashioned brownish chair with a wooden frame at the base. There is a cut out hole in the back of the chair, a square hole, and peeping out we can see a neon pink piece of cloth. It’s like a tea towel. It's a very small thing in a rather large chair. The chair has rolled arms down the sides and the top has a head cushion. There are two cushions that wrap around each side of the head cushion and enclose you. If you've been out somewhere for lunch and had something nice to eat and you snooze, you would just roll against the cushion rather than fall over. It looks very plush, very soft, very comfortable. 

It looks very worn. There are various marks and stains, and the seat is moulded to someone's backside. Someone has sat in that chair a lot, and it’s like Cinderella in that it fits that person exactly and anyone else would probably find it a little less comfortable.

It has wooden legs that are quite squat, so the chair is quite low. It's on casters. The seat cushion is thick. 

The chair smells of the place where it is situated, which is usually sealed. It smells of cigarettes and dust and library books. 

We think the chair may have originally been a pink colour, but it’s become stained and yellow and brown over time so now it’s browny pink. You can feel where the fibres have been worn away. Along the edges of the arms there’s a kind of braid you can feel with your fingers. 
 
The chair is imbued with the sense of the person that used it. Some of us find that disgusting, but we wonder whether people who loved the person who sat in this chair might find it comforting. It feels like someone’s throne and that the person who sat in the chair was a significant person. 

This chair belonged to Roald Dahl. It was in his writing hut where he went every day for 36 years to write. It was his mother’s chair, and she would have sat in it when he was a child. He was a pilot in the second world war, and he had a crash that left him with a permanent lump at the bottom of his back. To adapt the chair so it was comfortable, he took a bread knife and hacked a hole in the back of it. Later he had some surgery to make the lump smaller, so he plugged the hole a little with half of a tea towel. 

In the writing hut the chair has a mahogany board across both arms, sitting on a roll of corrugated paper. The board is covered with green baize, like a snooker table. He designed the hut so that everything he needed when writing was within reach, so he didn’t have to leave the chair. The chair enclosed him, and he was blinkered in the chair, but the hut also enclosed him. No one except him was allowed in there. 

At 10:00 in the morning, he would walk down the garden path with his flask of coffee, sit in his chair, and sharpen six pencils because he didn't like odd numbers. He would sit there for two hours, whether he wrote one word or whether he wrote 2000 words. At 12 he would go back to his house for four hours, where he was Dad, and not a writer. He would have lunch, watch the racing, do whatever else needed to be done, then return to the hut to write for another two hours. 

Thank you

With thanks to our partner museums and schools across Buckinghamshire. 

• Amersham Museum and Stony Dean School 
• Buckingham Old Gaol Trust and Furze Down School 
• Chesham Museum and Heritage House School 
• Milton’s Cottage and ALTR RISE College 
• Milton Keynes Museum and Slated Row School 
• Roald Dahl Museum and Pebble Brook School

Volunteer Lisa Redford for her contribution to the audio recordings.

Donate

We hope you enjoyed visiting our virtual museum. If you would like to support our ongoing work, please click the link here.
Thank you.

Feedback

Please send us any feedback you have about visiting our virtual museum on the short online form by clicking the link here.