The story of one house in Lausanne Road number 34 ............ that lost model shop on Blenheim Grove and model planes, ships and soldiers I have made

The story of one house in Lausanne Road over a century and a half, and of one family who lived there in the 1950s.*

Airfix, 1959

Now it will seem daft but for the last few years I have wasted time looking for the model shop near the station on Rye Lane.

It was one of those powerful childhood memories which wouldn’t go away and that I suspect is because I am part of the Airfix generation.

From when I was about seven for almost a decade I would buy and make up the plastic kits of planes, ships and figures, and as our train set got ever bigger there were all the Airfix railway accessories, from houses, to signal boxes, and of course the station.

And depending on the amount of money I had it might be anything from the simplest of kits to the impressive ones which came in a box and might take days to make.

Looking back I suppose I was part of that last age group who spent hours making things and who on another day might also be collecting train numbers, “fag cards” or hunting out stamp collections.

It was what you did in the 1950s.

Soviet Tank

Nor was it just the simple act of construction, for afterwards came the painting and finally the application of the transfers to the wings and side of the plane or the heraldic design to the sails of the old ships.

It was a painstaking exercise and one that could then be extended by hanging the aircraft from the ceiling or making an elaborate display which combined planes tanks and military figures.

And if I am honest I have never lost that fascination for model making which began all over again when my sons were at an age when I could go into a model shop and not feel a bit of a nerd.

Of course 1940 Spitfires and Hurricanes were later  replaced by War Hammer but the essentials were the same.

They were made of plastic, needed assembling and then had to be painted which meant that  during the 1980s and into the 1990s I found myself thinking again about the model shop by the station.

But its exact location was lost until by chance I shared my search with someone who lived on Blenheim Grove and the rest as say  they became an exchange of memories and of models bought and made.

All of which was a bit reassuring because there is nothing worse than a childhood memory which cannot be verified.  It gnaws away making you begin to doubt a whole set of memories.

So that is one that has been solved and that has let the memories flood back.

On a Saturday afternoon the shop which would be crowded and you had to negotiate the glass cases in the middle of the shop while staring up at the selves and cabinets which ran up to the ceiling all full of made up models.

Model Zone Manchester, 2015

And of course there was nothing like seeing the finished thing to entice you to part with your money.

Over the years I must have made half a dozen Luftwaffe Stuka, Me 109s, along with Spitfires, Hurricanes and a whole host of planes from both world wars and from each of the competing countries.

But as I sit back more than a little pleased at finding that old model shop it is tinged with the discovery that the one here in Manchester that I spent many hours visiting with each of the lads has closed.

So as one set memories resurfaces another batch is lost.

Pictures; Small Airfix models, 1957 by Pantoine (talk | contribs) 2006, Permission is granted to copy, distribute and/or modify this document under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, and Airfix model of an unpainted Soviet T-34/85 tank in 1/72 scale, 2008, Wolcott (talk) from Airfix, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Airfix, and Modelzone Deansgate Manchester, 2015 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*The story of one house in Lausanne Road,  http://chorltonhistory.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/The%20story%20of%20one%20house%20in%20Lausanne%20Road

Confessions of an Airfix collector ........... and much more

Now even when you are ten, the sun doesn’t shine everyday of the summer holidays, and equally there can be plenty of grim grey days stretching through spring and into winter.

Two Roman soldiers 1974

And this being the late 1950s, there was no back to back television to watch and so on slow Sundays with all your friends away at Butlins, the days could lay heavy.

But it being the day after I got my pocket money there was always the plastic Airfix model to complete.

They came in different sizes, ranged from small battleships to large complicated Second World War aircraft and could be guaranteed to fill part of a day.

Once assembled, there was the painting, followed by the application of transfers and then hours where my imagination brought the Lancaster bomber or Panther tank to life.

With enough of them it was possible to create a scene filled with planes, vehicles and those little figures which Airfix also sold. One such recreation took over the top of a dressing table which had been covered in an old sheet, dyed green with bits of hedge and trees taken from our big model railway set.

But that wasn’t all because long before the model had been bought there was the endless visits to the shop gazing at what was on offer.

Much battered, 1974

For me three stand out.  There was the one near London Bridge Railway Station, another just off Peckham High Street and finally the one in Well Hall.

I spent hours just looking, especially at the very big expensive ones.

Of course the completed ones in the window always beat my attempts hands down but that never stopped me trying to emulate them.

But the moment comes when music, girls and clothes take over.

That said I never quite lost my fascination for making plastic kits, and in my early years as a teacher, keen to bring history alive in the classroom, I returned to Airfix.

The sock darner .... a world we have lost, 1900

Once the figure or model had been made it went into a glass cabinet at work, coming out to illustrate a history story or the finer point of medieval armour.  They sat beside a Viking oyster shell, some Roman coins and a heap of other very old everyday objects.

But not one to be over precious and authenticity, I fell on a battered open top sandal which in design was exactly like similar ones worn across the hotter parts of the Roman Empire.

And not for the first time I found myself mix historical truth with a fib.
Today almost sixty years after I first embarked on my love affair with Airfix I have but two models left, both dating from my time as a teacher.  They are battered, missing bits but I can’t get rid of them.

Picture; Airfix model of Julius Caesar, 1974, from the collection of Andrew Simpson