The story of Pam Blackmore, her Mum and the hobby that brought them closer together written by Olivia Blackmore

Now, I’m not sure what it was that first drew my mum to dolls houses, but I do know that it was her passion. And, after a few trips with her to Miniatura, I was hooked too!

It was our special thing, a tiny world just for the two of us, and we’d spend hours hunting down shops, seeing 12^th scale everywhere we went. Malyn’s in Nottingham was one of Mum’s favourites. Then there was The Dollshouse Emporium in Derby, back then they had a shop you could visit and explore. I remember one in Lemington; and even on holiday in Holt, we managed to discover a little shop hidden down a side street. If there was a dolls house shop hidden away somewhere, you can bet your bottom dollar that we’d find it.

But the real highlight of our adventures would be our yearly trip to Miniatura at the NEC. With so many treasures under one roof, we were in heaven!

Mum always knew exactly what she wanted and kept searching until she finally found her perfect house – a big Georgian home made by Lectromatic in Doncaster. We visited a few times before she finally bought it, and I, having neither the room nor the budget for such a large house, bought my own Sid Cooke shop kit which, once I’d built it, I turned into a bridal shop.

Mum always put a lot of thought into what she wanted to fill her house with; she visited ‘The Bag Lady’ a whole number of times before purchasing a little suitcase that now sits on top of the wardrobe in the master bedroom.

It was long before the world of SatNav and Google Maps and getting home was often eventful. I’d be absolutely positive I knew which way to go right up until Mum confidently convinced me otherwise at the turning and suddenly, we’d be on our way to Sheffield rather than back home to Leicester! High on the thrill of finding a bargain or a little treasure to covet until we could justify the expense, we’d laugh all the way home. Which was a good job really as she did this to me on more than one occasion. Lots of happy memories.

Then Mum got ill.

The house had sat undecorated, waiting for Mum to figure out where she wanted to start, and so it was decided that it needed to be returned to Doncaster to be filled with the wallpaper she’d chosen. Mum was poorly for a long time, but she still found the strength to get around Miniatura on her mobility scooter.

Towards the end, it was a bit of a rush to get it all finished so she could see it exactly how she wanted it. Dad hung up lace curtains on every window and glass door (sixteen in total!) and every room had furniture in, even if it was just the basics. Just how she wanted at the time and she was happy.

After Mum passed, the house stood untouched for a long time, upstairs in the study. I looked in on it whenever I visited my dad – but it was rarely opened. My own shop, which by now had an upstairs room, sat unfinished. I went to Miniatura with my cousin who had also got the doll-housing bug. But it can be an expensive hobby, and having two young children to provide for, our visits dwindled. The magic of the craft had disappeared and the lights stayed off in that big Georgian house.

In 2019, seventeen years after Mum’s passing, Dad was ready to hand over the house and let it go, just getting it back home was a major operation. I took photos of every room to ensure everything went back where Mum had wanted it, and each piece was carefully wrapped and labelled. The whole experience was a little emotional as it felt like bringing Mum home and the magic was starting to spark within me again.

Everything was put back precisely where we’d found it and it even came with its own box of “extras”. We all have a box like this, filled with the older furniture that was replaced with something better, or things we once bought that weren’t quite the right fit when we got them home. But you can find some hidden gems in these boxes that were once over looked; I managed to find a rather nice Victorian clothes airer that now hangs from the ceiling in the scullery.  I had a rather beautiful pair of battery powered carriage lights in my own little extras box and asked Dad if he would mind my adding them to the front of Mum’s house. He’d said “it’s your house now, you don’t need to ask me if you want to add anything.” But it isn’t, you see, not really. And I don’t want it to be. We call it ‘Mum’s Dolls House’ and it will forever be Mum’s dolls house; I’m just looking after it for her.

Mum had never liked the outside steps that led to the kitchen; where most of the house was grey, they had been painted white and had a rail that was more fitting for a staircase. Dad had removed the balustrade long before the house was moved but had never found the time to repaint the stairs. It wasn’t until it was in my possession that they finally got painted the correct colour.

For seventeen years, the Georgian house had sat dark and lifeless in the study, now, it stands proudly in my lounge with the lights on a timer. Twice a day, life glows through those lace curtains and it feels like Mum is right there with me.

All those years had taken a toll on it, though, and we found that not only did two of the light fittings refuse to work, a couple of fireplaces wouldn’t light. Whoever said you can find anything on the internet was wrong. We spent hours searching YouTube but only found how to fit the lights, not change a teeny tiny bulb or mend a light fitting. Clearly needing to seek out the professionals, I bought tickets for Miniatura 2020 in the hopes of finding someone who could help.

But, of course, when everything starts to go right, something goes wrong. COVID-19 hit and the show was cancelled, but we held onto our tickets for the next show.

Not long after Christmas, Dad mentioned that he’d still got a drawer that contained the last of Mum’s extras. Whilst sorting through the drawer, I found all sorts of little treasures. Duplicates, paints, receipts, and a lovely letter from Sussex Crafts about a copper mum had ordered from Miniatura in 1995. In fact, in that one drawer was the whole history of the house. A series of notes and even a handwritten list of things Mum wanted in each of the rooms. I don’t think you ever really finish a dolls house, there is always something you can add that help to bring it to life that little bit more. Mum wouldn’t have wanted it to be a museum piece either. She built the bones of it and now I have the luxury of adding the tiny details that will make it glow that little bit brighter.

And so now, I am very excitedly on a mission to finally – properly – complete the house as she had envisioned it. Unfortunately, a number of things on Mum’s list were from Jane Newman who has sadly passed away, but I am hoping to find someone at the next show, whenever that may be, who works to her beautiful and delicate standard.

Besides dolls-housing, my other passion in life is novelty cakes and fondant figures. Which means despite his disinterest, my husband comes with me to Cake International at the NEC. God, I love that man. He’ll bring a flask of coffee and his Kindle to pass the time whilst I shop and watch demonstrations. When normality resumes, he’ll be coming with me to Miniatura. He’ll bring his flask and his book but I don’t think he’ll need it, I rather think he’ll enjoy Miniatura.

Everyone at Miniatura would like to thank Pam and Olivia for sharing their story.