14 May 2026

Tuesday

National Emergency Services Museum in Sheffield

On Tuesday of this week the weather was as  changeable as meteorologists had promised. Showers and sunshine. I decided to head back to The National Emergency Services Museum that we had visited with the grandchildren a month ago. The ticket was still valid and without the little ones  I would be able to take it all in. I even remembered a torch (American: flashlight) so that I could read display boards in  shadowy corners of the museum.

I spent two hours in there and then in the museum shop I encountered a typical meist. She was, she said, a retired teacher and as a regular museum volunteer she pretty much ran the shop. I was looking for little gifts for Phoebe and Margot but the meist woman had other ideas. Me, me, me, my son, my work, my daughter, me, me, me - what I think about this, what I think about that. AAAAARRRGGHHH!

I just wanted to say, "Shut the f*** up! I want to have a look round the shop!" Fortunately, after about ten minutes of the one-sided torture, a young father appeared with his little girl and the meist spotlight turned upon him. I grabbed a small police notebook for Phoebe and a little replica lifeboat that Margot could sail in her bath and then I scarpered before that silver-haired torturer could claw me again. 

World War II gas mask in The National Emergency Services Museum

By the way, it turned out she was never a teacher after all. She was a teaching assistant for a mere four years before she retired and yet that didn't stop her from spouting off about schools and education to a trapped listener who had been an actual teacher for thirty seven years - fifteen of those years as a hardworking Head of English. She did not want to know as this would have stalled her gushing meist narrative.

After leaving. Up through Paradise Square, across Campo Lane and along St James's Row, past the cathedral. I crossed High Street and cut through George Street before catching a Number 88 bus home.

It had been a good way to spend my Tuesday afternoon. I learnt more about the Victorian criminal Charles Peace who shot a man dead just fifty yards from this keyboard. Apparently, he is even referred to in The Beatles' 1964 film, "A Hard Day's Night". Late Victorians viewed him  as a kind of celebrity but he killed a young policeman in  Manchester and an outraged husband here in Banner Cross. Peace was no hero - far from it. Here's his actual mugshot from the 1870s...

29 comments:

  1. Unfortunately here some murderers have been turned into 'folk heroes', and it just ain't right. I am sure your torturous experience will feel worthwhile when you see the smiles on the girls faces.

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  2. My mum had a gas mask like that one. It hung on a hook just at the start of the attic stairs. I was terrified of it.

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    Replies
    1. Apparently they had special Mickey Mouse gas masks for children.

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  3. Those gas masks would not have been very effective.
    Churchill expected Hitler to deploy gas in the East and was ready to gas Germany.

    Charles Peace could be Peter Quint in The Turn of the Screw by Henry James.
    There are numerous film versions on YouTube including the classic British
    film with Deborah Kerr.

    My favourite is the 1999 one with Johdi May as the Quint-haunted governess
    and Colin Firth as the Master.
    Quint has red hair in this version. Victorians discriminated against red hair.

    The governess calls the ghost of Quint a horror in one breath and in the next describes him as attractive.

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    Replies
    1. I appreciated that tangent John.

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    2. Kim Philby was reading late Henry James at the end of his life.
      *I don't understand what Graham sees in him,* said the Stalinist
      double agent.

      Greene replied that The Golden Bowl is not the place to start.
      Early James. The Europeans. What Maisie Knew.
      Middle James. The Portrait of a Lady. The Spoils of Poynton.

      He wrote a veiled ghost story, The Jolly Corner.
      The ghost is Henry himself, what he might have become if he had
      remained in Boston, and never seen London, Paris and Venice.

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  4. I was recently 'trapped' by a similar woman whilst out walking with Billy. She simply wouldn't let me go (or get a word in). I suspect that such people live alone, and grasp any opportunity to talk. As annoyed as I was with this woman, I did feel like a 'Good Samaritan'.

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    Replies
    1. Is a "Good Samaritan" a chocolate bar?

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  5. One of those World War 2 gas masks would come in handy when the next world-wide epidemic hits.

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    Replies
    1. They would also come in handy when meeting Donald Trump.

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  6. Sometimes people just need to talk, often to someone who just wants to be left alone.

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  7. I think it was very kind of you to allow that shop volunteer, who may possibly be quite a lonely person, to chat to you and enjoy some warm and friendly human interaction.

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  8. I just had to look up " meist" as I hadn't heard it before.....basically says it means most, or mostly, but that doesn't make sense in the way you are using it. What does it mean in Sheffield?

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    Replies
    1. Dear Frances,
      To understand how I was using "meist" please go back three days in this blog and read my post - "Meism". By the way, I want you to know that I have taken on board your advice about cooked chickens. Thank you for that!
      Cheers,
      Neil

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    2. Ah, now I see. !! I had forgotten that post . Very pleased that you won't be damaging any more foxes.

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  9. Oh dear... you had enjoyed a good visit of the museum on your own, only to run into a full-grown Meist! Good job the young father rescued you.
    Charles Peace's mugshot is once again proof of that you can't tell a murderer just from his face.

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    Replies
    1. Yes. Never judge a book from its cover.

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  10. You needed Emergency Services to rescue from the Meist gift shop lady!

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  11. Some people you just want to scream at, and then go about your day!!

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  12. There are some people whom I am certain have a disorder that causes them to talk without ceasing to anyone they can. They don't even hesitate long enough for their victim to say, "Well, I need to be getting along." I have known several of these people, one in particular and you literally had to walk away while she was still talking. When Glen and I were eating breakfast on a lovely morning outside at a restaurant on our trip one of those women showed up, waiting for her friends. She glommed on to a very quiet, older (even than us!) couple sitting at the next table over and she would NOT shut up. When they finally managed to break free and leave, she obviously set her sights on us. We were the only other people eating at the moment. We would not take her bait and give her anything but a, "Hmmm..." Luckily, her friends showed up just about then. We sighed in relief.
    Was this entire comment just a meism?

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  13. I also taught for 37 years. Isn't this just meist!

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  14. How ironic that the murderer's last name is Peace.

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  15. I'm guessing that the volunteer's husband is very thankful that she is not home all day:)

    1870- people doing horrible things to each other for centuries. I know it shouldn't surprise me but it still does. I like to believe in simpler, more peaceful times, despite all evidence to the contrary.

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  16. Some people who live alone and are a bit lonely can be seen as meist because they want to speak to people. Some, however, are just meist. We have one in our village - at village events you can see people avoiding him. He is married and has a family, just talks and talks about himself and doesn’t let anyone get a word in edgeways. We find him exhausting and try and avoid getting stuck with him.

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  17. Sounds like that woman desperately needs someone to talk to. Maybe she should volunteer in a more people-intensive environment! A hospital, perhaps? I'll leave it to you to suggest it, if you can get a word in edgewise.

    By the way, I'd never heard the term "meist." That's a new word for me.

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  18. Oh, "meist" as in ME-ist! I get it now!

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