The Museum of Childhood

The Museum of Childhood is not somewhere you go voluntarily. It’s the kind of place your year five teacher thinks is ‘fun’ and ‘educational’ enough for a class trip, where the students mope about and break things, dreading the paragraph they will inevitably have to pull out of their hineys about it the next day.

In my case, this was a place I’d passed by and vaguely registered in my mental list of landmarks, but had no interest in despite the free admission. Then, a few days ago, I ducked into it, cursing and spitting venomous threats about puddle-soaked shoes, broken umbrellas and the damn closing hours of the place I was actually headed. The venture pleasantly surprised me enough to write an article about it – although I do somewhat wish I had ingested some psychotropic substances ahead of the experience.

The two-storey, open-plan museum is an uncatalogued collection of toys, games, clothes and furniture, interspersed with play-and-learn areas and activity suggestions for the kids. The toys range from nostalgic (Spirograph! Tickle Me Elmo!) to downright creepy. Some of the dolls dating back to the late 19th century really make you question the psychological adjustment of our great-grandparents. If Mattel was supposed to give girls of the 1980s unrealistic body expectations, then girls born a century before should have become flesh-eating zombies.

The same thing goes for teddy bears – although it’s sweet to see a loved-to-patches toy from days of yore, there’s just something about pre-plastic toys which sends shivers down your spine, especially under the spooky dimmed lights. None of this seems to faze the pair of little girls running around the place in some weird museum game, laughing and shrieking with excitement. I guess I’m suffering the effects of growing up on the grotesque surrealism of Ren & Stimpy, as opposed to child-friendly Lazy Town.

Upstairs there is also a temporary exhibition of children’s clothing through the ages: enough to make you appreciate your worn kindergarten Thomas the Tank Engine t-shirts (or, if you were extra-cool like me, Van Halen). Sand is trailed all over the place, because someone decided it was a good idea to give free-range kids a sand pit to play in. Interesting tidbits of relevant information are collated on the walls. Here’s a taste: ‘In the Victorian period a girl’s age could be estimated by the length of her skirt.’ Interesting, until you realise that this is effectually still true. If it’s knee length, she’s thirteen; showing underbutt-cheeks, she’s old enough to watch MTV.

London is teeming with exciting, educational places to visit for both children and their parents. The Museum of Childhood rarely tops those charts: it’s tucked away in east London, it’s a bit weird and it’s not very big. While this may not score points with busy young mums, it’s definitely got its appeal for the urban anti-mainstream crusaders of the city. Forget the conventional appeal of Tate Modern or Koko – if you’re looking for something new and strange to do for an hour, pop into the MoC: they’ve even got a café (a café with cakes).

The Museum of Childhood
Cambridge Heath Road
E2 9PA

Tel: 020 8983 5200

Open from 10am – 5.45pm every day. Admission is free.