Museum | Bennet McInnes

Some years ago it was announced that Perth Museum would be moving into an old building that had been lying empty for a long time, but was in the process of being refurbished. In March 2024, it opened its doors in the city centre, and Lorna and I had been wanting to go and see what it was like. Yesterday, we decided it was time for a bit of museum fun.

Standing outside the south side of Perth Museum.

There is no parking at the museum, even for disabled badge holders. There are parking areas nearby, but the closest parking was closed off because of roadworks. This meant a longer than usual walk for me, which I found quite an effort, but I was glad I was still able to do it.

We were ready for lunch by the time we arrived, and the Stone Cafe was just inside the doorway, with a welcoming sign.

Sign welcoming visitors to the Stone Cafe.

Inside, the cafe was bright and airy, with very high ceilings and magnificent tall windows.

We did as the sign had instructed, chose a table and put in our order at the counter,

Sitting in Stone Cafe with a cloudy apple juice.

I chose their quiche of the day, which was presented as two small tartlets, containing a Cajun vegetable mixture. It came with coleslaw and chutney.

Cajun vegetable quiche at Stone Cafe, Perth.

Lorna was intrigued to try a ‘sausage’ roll containing vegetarian haggis and sweet potato.

Vegetarian haggis sausage roll with chutney, salad and coleslaw.

She also ordered tea, and was delighted by the size of the pot, which contained three full cups of flavoursome breakfast tea.

Neither of us wanted anything else to eat, and we were keen to see the museum. I was feeling quite tired and wasn’t sure if I had the energy for walking around, but we decided to have a quick look and see what the space was like. At the entrance, Lorna spotted a couple of wheelchairs, and asked if we could borrow one. A helpful member of staff assisted us in unfolding it, and I sat myself down. My rollator was stored safely behind the reception counter while Lorna wheeled me off to look at the exhibits.

Sitting comfortably in a wheelchair in Perth Museum.

It was the first time we had borrowed a wheelchair like this, and it was quite a revelation. Lorna found it quite easy to push, and there was a lift to take us to the upper floor. I enjoyed being able to see everything without getting tired.

Admiring some stuffed animals in Perth Museum.

As always with such places, there was far more to read and take in than we had brain space for, but we enjoyed soaking up the atmosphere and appreciating how nicely the building had been modernised.

When we’d seen enough, we went back down in the lift, collected my rollator, and trudged back to the car. I found the walk back more tiring than the walk in, but I managed it, and was very glad to settle into the car. By this time we felt we had room for a hot drink and a snack, and decided to drive the short distance to the Macmillan cafe at Quarrymill, on the outskirts of Perth.

The Macmillan cafe is a place we’ve been visiting for many years, and it would soon be closing for the season. It was good to be able to call in again and enjoy the excellent service provided by the volunteers who run it so cheerfully.

I was tempted by a meringue with fruit and cream, which proved quite challenging (but well worth the effort) to consume.

Meringue with fruit and cream at the Macmillan Cafe, Quarrymill.

Lorna was delighted to find that there was one scone left, and that it was a variety she’d never had before: prune and honey.

Prune and honey scone at the Macmillan Cafe, Quarrymill.

We both greatly enjoyed our treats, washed down with large decaf Americanos. We wrote a couple of postcards we’d bought in the museum shop, and felt as if we were on our holidays.

I’d forgotten about this until Lorna reminded me, but in addition to the Braemar hat buying experience mentioned in my last post, there was another day last year when I tried on several hats. It occurred about a month before the Braemar episode, in a very different sort of environment.

* * *

I wonder if the name Andrew Carnegie means anything to you. He’s perhaps best known as an industrialist and philanthropist of the 19th and early 20th Centuries who amassed great wealth, becoming at one time the richest man in the world. He financed thousands of public libraries, and a number of trusts, funds and buildings, including the Peace Palace in The Hague, and New York’s Carnegie Hall. Although often thought of as American, he was in fact born in Dunfermline, Scotland, in 1835. During his childhood, his parents were struggling to make ends meet and opted to emigrate to America to seek a better life when Carnegie was 12 years old.

The house he grew up in still exists and has been turned into a museum dedicated to telling the story of Carnegie’s life. I wasn’t sure what to expect when we visited the museum, but was pleasantly surprised by how good it was.

The museum is divided into two parts: the original house the Carnegies lived in, and a large hall adjacent to it that was built by Carnegie’s widow in 1928. The hall contains a wealth of information about the man and his varied and productive life.

When we first entered the old building and I saw the steep staircase leading up to the original accommodation, I chose to stay at the bottom and let Lorna investigate the upper level. She went up to take photos and report back, but while she was doing this I decided to have a bash at the stairs. Much to her surprise, when she was on her way back to the stairs she found me standing at the top of them.

At the top of the steep stairs, in the Carnegie family’s small room.

On this upper level there was a small room that had housed the entire Carnegie family, and a larger room that had been made into a display about Andrew Carnegie’s youth. In the larger room, while I was busy reading some of the information boards, Lorna was rummaging about in a dressing-up box in the corner.

Busy reading information about Andrew Carnegie’s youth at the Andrew Carnegie Birthplace Museum.

She found some items of interest and proceeded to dress me up. I wasn’t paying much attention to what she was doing as I was busily focussed on what I was reading.

Hat number 1: a small-brimmed black item.

Hat number 3: a jolly, summery sort of straw boater.

When she’d run out of hats and I’d run out of brain space for new information, we went back downstairs to the hall built by Carnegie’s widow. The amount of information available to read was quite overwhelming and we skimmed through it, taking in what we could. I even met the great man himself, seated in his study, and introduced myself. He didn’t say much, but he seemed quite pleased to have a visitor.

Bennet McInnes

Musings of a nonagenarian

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