Monthly Archives: November 2018

Why Not Have It Enlarged?

What a wonderful invention: a machine that takes your photograph and weighs you at the same time. And even better – it prints the resulting weight on the photograph so that you have something to remind you of that day you had an extra large portion of fish and chips, not to mention the knickerbocker glory. And if that isn’t enough, you can have the whole experienced enlarged for an extra three pence. There can only be one thing better: get you nephew to scan the photograph eighty two years later and put it on the internet for all the world to see.

The photograph shows Miriam Burnett with her then fiancé (later husband), Frank Fieldhouse. When this photograph was taken in 1936, they were only a few years into their twelve year engagement.

On Discovering Nita In My Garage

This signed photograph of Nita Croft turned up during the garage clearance. It was something of a surprise to realise that the lovely Nita had been sitting in my garage for twenty-five years without me realising it. Born in 1902, Nita Pycroft shortened her name and took to the stage, upon which she enjoyed a lengthy career as a singer, actress and dancer. Her fortune peaked in the 1930s when she had a hit with the song “When It’s Sunset On The Nile” Nita died in 1987, aged 85: – a few years before taking up residence in our garage.

20 Images : The Man With The Self-Changing Gear

Advert From 1931 Pageant Of Bradford Programme

My life continues to be dominated by the Herculean task of clearing the garage of thirty years of accumulated rubbish, so that a new door can be installed in ten days time. I have managed to dispose of a library’s worth of books, a china shop’s worth of cups and saucers, and enough old files, forms and facsimiles to keep a bureaucrat happy for months. A big part of the problem is that I find so many of the things I am supposed to put into rubbish sacks or charity bags fascinating, and so I attempt to rescue them from the shredder, and share them with all those other people who find 1931 adverts for Armstrong Siddeley cars equally enthralling. And that, of course, means you.

20 Images : 3. Booth Denton – The Grocer Of Mirfield

Booth Denton of Knowle, Mirfield

If you spend your life digging in the genealogical allotments of ephemera, you learn to welcome an unusual name. You can keep your “John Smiths” and your “Tom Browns” : give me a “Roderick Trencheon-Philpotts” any day. Or, more specifically, give me a Booth Denton – which is the name pencilled-in on the reverse of this Victorian Cabinet Card. I bought it because it comes from a local Huddersfield studio (Sellman & Co), and because it features a beard you ignore at your peril. A little spade work reveals that Booth Denton was a grocer from Mirfield (a few miles to the east of where I live) who was born in 1831 and died in 1894. He not only weighed out the tea, and parcelled up the cheddar cheese, he was also a bit of a pillar of the local community, who sought election to the local Board of Guardians on at least one occasion. He looks a formidable character – you wouldn’t be too keen on going back to the shop to complain that your butter had gone rancid, or your flour had mouse droppings in it.

Cabinet Card (c.1880) : Sellman & Co, Huddersfield

20 Images : 2. On Finding A New Motor Hearse Up My Back Passage

The great garage clear-out brought to light a crumbling old copy of the Halifax Courier and Guardian dated the 4th February 1922. The big news of the day was not the economic and political crisis that Britain was going through, nor was it the developing Irish Civil War: it was the delivery of a new motor hearse to the Halifax undertakers, Messrs J Marsh & Co.

Halifax Courier & Guardian  4 February 1922

20 Images : 1. Don’t Be A Doctor

Life seems to be getting in the way of blogging again. If it is not clearing out my various back passages it is helping my son and his wife prepare for moving house later this month. My life seems to flash by in a series of images, so the least I can do is to share them.

Edwardian Playing Card : Don’t Be A Doctor

The first is a scan of a playing card from the early part of last century – part of a set that was kindly given to me. I dedicate this particular image to my moving children and all their colleagues who somehow manage to care for patients, their own families and move house – all at the same time.

How I Found My Brain Up My Back Passage

EXCAVATIONS UP MY BACK PASSAGE : SERIES II

The need to initiate a second series of “Excavations Up My Back Passage” has been brought about by the impending arrival of a new garage door. In order to install it, the garage needs clearing of a twenty year accumulation of rubbish – an extension of the accumulation that already fills the back passage running behind the bedrooms. So once again our intrepid blogger goes into domestic archaeological mode …. and his first find is something rather special.
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Hidden within a cardboard box containing a set of unused Filofax Diary pages from 1998, I came across a white envelope containing five Polaroid photographs. They appeared to be a set of graphic photographs of an operation – in one of them a scalpel is clearly visible. I didn’t take me long to realise that I was, in fact, looking at my own brain. The photographs date from the Spring of 1998 when I underwent surgery to have my cochlear implant fitted – the device that miraculously allowed me to hear again! I now remember the surgeon giving me the photographs after the operation – both to illustrate what he had been able to do and to assure me that, indeed, I did actually have a brain. In the illustration above, the wire can be seen that takes the electronic signal from the receiver – that is bolted in there somewhere – to the hearing nerve fibres and onwards deep into my brain. It was a remarkable piece of surgery and a remarkable piece of bio-engineering. Twenty years later, the system is still in place and working just fine; and allowing me to hear the clicking of the computer keyboard as I type this post.

Random Times :Riding Off Into The Shipley Sunset In A Bentley

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“Random History” is what happens when you mix together a newspaper archive, a random number generator and a man with too much time on his hands. Today our random-driven time machine takes us back to SATURDAY 21 JULY 1934, and the West Yorkshire town of Shipley.
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The front page of the Shipley Times and Express seems to be totally dominated by a speech from the local Member of Parliament, J Horace Lockwood, to the Annual Garden Fete at the Windhill Conservative Club. The speech is a lengthy one and about as interesting as a mouldy corned-beef sandwich. I have the full text, and I will happily provide it to anyone who can come up with a good reason for wanting to read it.
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To understand the degree of inappropriateness of the MPs words, you need to see them in the context of the economic and social situation of the times. Britain remained in the grips of the Great Depression, and unemployment in many northern towns was still in the realms of 30%. Poverty was widespread, housing conditions were appalling, and any social benefits available were based on the cruel system  of “the means test”. Singing the praises of the then Chancellor of the Exchequer, Neville Chamberlain, Mr Lockwood told his Conservative audience: “He has tried to make our national income greater than our national expenditure and because of that we have comfort, financial safety, safety of property and of persons.”
Large parts of his speech are self-congratulatory and contain warnings about lies and half-truths from opponents and the press alike: the words almost have a Trumpian feel about them. No MP works harder for his constituents, he declares. Criticism was acceptable, he said, “but continual back biting, under-hand methods, and the sayings of untruths or, worse still, half truths, was a very difficult thing to combat“. It is unclear what the criticism and half-truths were, but it is interesting to note that within twelve months of the speech, he had been deselected by the local Conservative Party and went on to come fourth in the 1935 General Election in Shipley, standing as an independent Conservative.
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1811-008Leaving politics aside, 1934 was a good year to buy a motor car – if you were lucky enough to be able to afford one. Appleyard’s of Leeds were advertising  1933 Morris cars from as little as £110, and as an added bonus, every car was fitted with four new Dunlop tyres! But if you really wanted a bargain, you could turn to the second-hand cars being sold by local garages, and, in particular, the 1929 4.5 litre Bentley which was on sale for just £350 (taking inflation into account that is equivalent of around £17,500 today). It is interesting to note that a similar 1929 Bentley 4.5 litre car was sold at auction last year for about £750,000 (which is the equivalent of a lot of money today).
I have not been able to discover what Mr Lockwood did after losing his seat in the 1935 elections – perhaps he bought a second-hand Bentley and rode off into the political sunset.

What’s In Store?

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This is a scan of a quarter-plate glass negative which must date from the end of the nineteenth or early twentieth century. The seven featured subjects are an interesting collection: they could be the staff of a draper’s shop or a saloon bar. There is something vaguely H G Wells about them – that might be a young Mr Polly at the back on the left … or an old Mr Polly in the front centre. As with any good novel, the question we must ask when we first meet the main characters is – “what’s in store for them?”

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