Brighton Toy Museum

Across the world are a number of museums which represent collections so fine, so valuable, or so unique that visitors from all parts of the world place them firmly in the category of “must-see” when visiting the countries which house these collections. This is one.

Curating toys

Chris Littledale is a tall, kindly man; an animated speaker, with (one immediately senses) a lot of knowledge about a lot of things the rest of us don’t know much about. It’s not difficult to picture him as a museum curator.

But it’s the unique nature of the museum which Chris curates, and in which he carries out restoration work, that most people would never guess at. For he’s the founder and curator of Brighton Toy Museum. He, with the dedication of his volunteer workforce, protects and preserves a world class collection which includes some of the remaining pieces of the engineering, imagination and industry to come out of the Industrial Revolution: children’s toys and models. The museum also houses the sole survivors of collections by companies such as Stieff, Hornby, Meccano whose names will be familiar to people everywhere who love teddy-bears, model trains and construction sets.

Archaeology has shown us that toys have been around as long as children have. But it wasn’t until the emergence of industrial technology that toys became an industry. The whole idea of what we now call childhood evolved from cheap tin tea-services and small-scale engines. People who were beneath the age of 12 gradually stopped being miniature adults who could start work - in Stateroom or coal mine - at the age of 6. Children from all parts of the world were united in play.

Founding the museum

When the Brighton Toy Museum opened in 1991 as a charitable trust, it was a far cry from what Chris had been looking for when he and some friends creaked aside the old wooden doors for the first time.

His father had been an engineer and his interest extended into the making of model trains, and scaled-down, operational engines and machines. Thus, as he was growing up, it was taken for granted that spaces to work on, play with, set up and trial everything connected with this interest was of prime importance.

But after his parents’ deaths he realised that the large house and garden was rather unnecessary for a single man. He downscaled to a more practical flat in Brighton. However, he had quickly realised that, with all the advantages of flat-life, there was one major draw-back; equipping flats with huge spaces to set up entire model villages and multiple-tracked railway systems, was obviously not a priority for the average flat-builder or dweller.

After a short while in Brighton, Chris began making friends with like-minded people who had the same space problems. It was decided that what was needed was some kind of ‘man-shed’ or a room large enough to house each of their collections. They would all throw in for rent, unpack their crates and boxes, and set up in a way that would not entail disassembling and moving each time someone came to visit. Was there a vacant village hall somewhere? A disused performance space in one of the old pubs? Something like those would do the trick!

But a dank, moulding series of vaulted spaces which had once been stables and a beer repository? An area which - though a photographer had once utilised part of the space - was still redolent of all the kinds of smells one would imagine from stables that were seldom mucked out? With just a hint of dampness?

If you’re able to, you can hear Chris introduce himself and tell the story of getting from that point to becoming a renowned Museum – he is, after all, the person who tells it best!

“Oh, I had one just like that”

Those who have already caught glimpses of Brighton Toy Museum from the website will by now have some idea of what to expect. Yet no matter how prepared one might be beforehand, nothing compares to actually standing in the cheerful, colourful entrance hall-cum-ticket-office. Dark green and red trains reflect the light as they snake through towns, ancient villages and industrial sites. Above are red and blue replicas of early aeroplanes (all in working order). On the other side is a ticket office strongly reminiscent of a bygone railway station; and Paddington Bear presides over it all.

Your eye is taken by a semi-remembered pattern – did you once have a Teddy-bear who wore a jacket like that? You take an involuntary step forward to check, but then – those little metal cars? Didn’t you once bury your cousin’s whole collection of those in the sand for safety, and lose the whole lot when the tide came in?

You see, the one thing about the Brighton Toy Museum that can’t be presented by anyone else is how it makes you feel. Which long-forgotten incidents are suddenly uncovered by the sight of a marionette in chequered clothing, or how it felt to hold a once-dearly-loved stuffed toy in your arms as you fell asleep.

Before introducing me to Chris, Manager Jan Etches, who had taken me on a tour around the museum, told me that there are two common exclamations heard continually from visitors: “oh, I had one just like that!” and “oh, I haven’t seen one like that in years!”

Where’s Brighton?

I’m sure that by now there are some people who are wondering where on earth Brighton actually is?

Because it hosts such a plethora of sights and venues, most visitors to the UK plan to spend time in London. As appealing as a Toy Museum might sound, they haven’t planned on travelling outside the Metropolitan area.

However: here’s a terrific feature of the Toy Museum unmentioned until now: it’s incredibly easy to visit.

London is a huge, sprawling city and getting around it takes up a lot of time. Depending on where one is staying and what one is desperate to see, it can take up to a couple of hours of changing buses and trains to get from one’s hotel to another London destination. And queues for some attractions are so long they can add up to an hour of waiting time even when the destination is reached.

But anyone who catches a train from London stations like Blackfriars, Victoria, or London Bridge, can be waiting in the ticket office at Brighton Toy Museum about one hour and ten minutes later. The one hour is the travelling time from London to Brighton – the ten minutes gives you time to freshen up, smell the sea air, appreciate this iconic Railway Station (instantly recognisable from numerous British films) and to stroll down to the Museum.

Originally stables for the long-gone dray horses and storage vaults for beer, the museum building discovered by Chris and his friends was built as part of the station complex. So, though tucked discretely underneath the station, the big double doors at the Toy Museum were probably once one of the best-known set of doors in the whole of Brighton! Perhaps it’s this which makes Brighton Toy Museum one of the easiest of all the quirky, lesser-known, eccentric, museums in England to visit.

Museum information

Admission: £6.50 (adults), £4.00 (children), family, group and concessions rates available

Covid-specific information: with the volatile changes Covid can bring about, the most current details of opening times, admission fees, and contact details are best to be checked on the Toy Museum website before visiting.

Cireena Simcox

Cireena is a journalist and lecturer in English Literature and Theatre, and has written for both radio and screen. She is also a keen historian and house renovator, and is on a 30-year-old mission to demystify mental illness. Her father being an RAF officer, she spent her first 6 years in Sri-Lanka; she is now living in England and constantly cold.