Time for Beans

In a post last year I showed you some of the random tin-themed items I've purchased, mainly from eBay, but with the odd find from charity shops, car boot sales and so on.

I'd like to say that I've been making better use of my time and money this year. But with life still severely restricted by the virus, what else is there to do with it?

This explains why I have ended up with an egg timer in the shape of a tin of Heinz Beanz - which doesn't actually keep time very well, frequently just stopping before the desired time is over. I emailed the buyer to return it, but he just refunded me instead, so now it just sits there gathering dust on a shelf.

Somewhat better is this clock, which came sealed within a fake tin of beans, so you actually had to open the tin with the ring pull in order to be able to use it. It does at least work properly, but I couldn't quite bring myself to completely remove the lid of the tin, which makes it somewhat difficult reading the time from it. Despite saying "Beans Means Time" on the label, it is not associated with Heinz in any way, so they'd probably be quite annoyed if they found out about it.

More functional still is this plate in the shape of a piece of toast - which, with the official Beanz Meanz Heinz slogan, is a genuine piece of Heinz merchandise. I quite like the idea of having beans on toast, on toast, though of course the plate doesn't stack neatly on any of the others in the cupboard, and so is as much a nuisance as it is a novelty.

Perhaps the most useful item is this next tin of beans, which in terms of size and shape looks completely normal on a shelf. But turn it over, and there is a plastic bottom - which can be removed to use the tin as a secret hiding place for cash, jewellery, or whatever other valuables you want to keep hidden away. I like to think that the secret recipe for the sauce that goes into Heinz Baked Beanz is kept in a receptacle like this, but they've probably got something a bit more hi-tech and secure.

Finally, an item that I didn't even buy - I happened to be looking at the Instagram feed of an artist called Nikki Ward, who makes incredible mini-sculptures of handmade paper butterflies escaping from items such as purses, handbags and matchboxes. She happened to post a photo of a drawer full of matchboxes, some of which would be used for her artwork, and one of those had a picture of a tin of beans on it. I commented on how much I liked it, and completely without asking, she offered to send it to me! It now has pride of place on my shelf. If she were ever to create a piece featuring butterflies emerging from an actual tin, I think I might have to invest.

All of this has therefore amounted to a modest collection of bean-related ephemera. But it's nothing compared to that owned by Barry Kirk, better known as Captain Beany (and officially so, having changed his name by deed poll). His collection forms the Baked Bean Museum of Excellence, run from his flat on a council estate in Port Talbot, Wales. Since spending 100 hours in a bath of baked beans for charity in the 80s, the self-styled baked bean obsessive has amassed a collection of thousands of items of baked bean merchandise, tins and more, which can be visited by personal appointment only (it is his home, after all). Over the years he has raised thousands of pounds for charitable causes, and regularly appears dressed head to foot in baked-bean orange (his own skin as well as his clothes), including a super-hero style cape. He has even gone as far as having his head tattooed with 60 beans, each of which can be 'adopted' by those willing to make a charitable donation of £60.

I feel I'm not quite doing him or his collection full justice in my description, so would urge you to visit his website to find out more. I am certainly hoping to pay the museum a visit at some point - maybe I could even donate some of the items above too, if he doesn't already have them in his collection. "Bean there, done that, got the t-shirt, the tea cup, the tea-towel...", he'll no doubt say.