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Round Yorkshire With A Knife: The Wizard’s Quest Part 12 – Don’t Tell Titus!
Background: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-to-Jack-Black
Previous instalments -
Part 1: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-Knaresborough
Part 2: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-2
Part 3: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-3
Part 4: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-4
Part 5: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-5
Part 6: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-6
Part 7: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-7
Part 8: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...re-Be-Monsters
Part 9: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...t-in-Yorkshire
Part 10: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...hieving-Varlet
Part 11: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...shire-With-A-Knife-The-Wizard-s-Quest-Part-11
Shipley, meaning ‘sheep clearing’ or ‘sheep pasture’, was settled in the Bronze age, and is today just another small West Yorkshire town. While searching on the internet, I’d read that there was some sort of indoor market in Shipley, specialising in antiques and ‘collectibles’, and so I thought it might be a good place to search out some pointy treasure.
I alighted from the Leeds bus close to a small industrial estate on the way into Shipley town centre, but I could find no trace of the much-publicised indoor market. In an open garage, I spotted an elevated VW Beetle being worked on, and stepped inside to familiar smells which made me think back to being a 16 year-old apprentice mechanic. In answer to my query about the market, a boiler-suited old feller told me it had only lasted a couple of months, before closing again. Of course nobody thought to update the numerous websites which advertise the venture.
After a few minutes of blather, I left the old mechanic to his Beetle and boarded another bus into Shipley. Just as the bus neared the town centre, I spotted a sign for a new junk shop, and rang the bell to allow me to jump off the bus.
Surrounded by old chimney stacks, a flight of stone steps led down into the new antiques emporium, and I eased my head under the low doorway and entered. Two large cellars were filled with old furniture, bureaus and sideboards and desks, and down at the end of the first room were several tall glass display cabinets. A callow youth appeared from the rear cellar to greet me and ask if I was after anything in particular. When I told him, he pointed me in the direction of one of the cabinets. This had an old clasp knife in, a Joseph Rodgers as it turned out, but the blade was practically worn away. The young man also showed me a recent-looking Fairbairn-Sykes dagger, which he seemed to quite like the look of himself. He didn’t know prices for the items, but rang his boss on a mobile phone. They were overpriced.
While the lad called his gaffer, I had a look in the other room, which contained a lot of unsorted junk. I found some Sheffield table cutlery along with a big old ham knife made by Ibbersons for the canteen of the West Riding Tyre Co (Shipley was part of the West Riding until the abolition of the Ridings in the early 1970’s). I also found an old folding stiletto, of the type which was very popular here in the 1970’s. Unlike most, it actually has genuine horn covers, as well as a carbon steel blade, which looks like it’s seen plenty of use and abuse. Most of the knives I saw like this in the 70’s were Italian, this one is simply marked ‘Foreign’ over ‘P’.
I ended up buying all the stuff I’d found in the back room at a reasonable price, and I marked the place down for a return visit sometime.
On leaving the junk shop, I walked up the hill to Shipley’s central square and marketplace. The market is billed as a ‘second-hand market’, but it really only sells fruit and veg and the like. Surrounding the market are rows of shops, about half of which are charity shops. I looked in a few, but didn’t see anything of interest.
Shipley also has a small indoor market, which must have been built in the 1960’s, and which I doubt has changed much since then. I entered by way of a particularly short escalator, which drops no more than ten feet. Inside, I looked at a second-hand book stall, and at another selling local ales from Saltaire Brewery and various bar towels and beer paraphernalia. On another stall, I spotted a couple of cheap ‘Sopranos’ boxed sets and snapped them up.
Exiting by the rear entrance to the market, I had a look in a small hardware store, and then crossed the road to walk down the hill, past yet more charity shops. At the bottom of the hill is an odd junk shop which sells everything from old lawnmowers to fishing tackle. I had a look around, there were a few nasty-looking modern folders on display behind the counter, and some even nastier-looking repro/fantasy Nazi daggers.
I left and walked down to the canal, which runs all the way from Liverpool to Leeds, leaving working-class Shipley behind me as I walked on to the cobbled streets of well-heeled Saltaire.
Yorkshire could have had a Titusville, but instead patrician industrialist Sir Titus Salt, gave his surname to the model village he had built in 1853, calling it after himself and the local river (he also gave his name to every other street and building). Along with houses for himself and his mill workers, somewhat different in scale of course, Sir Titus built vast mills, one of which was then the largest factory in Europe. Compared to the slums of Bradford, where most of them had lived previously, the workers got cleaner living conditions, with Sir Titus close at hand to tell them when to go to church, and to ensure that no alcohol was consumed within the village boundaries. Today, Saltaire village is a World Heritage Site, and the long-dead mill workers have been replaced by artists and accountants, while the 600 foot-long ‘Shed’, the top floor of Salt’s Mill, houses a bookshop, an expensive restaurant, and bijou shops and boutiques.
After my pleasant walk along the canal, I decided to have lunch and a pint at the cheekily named ‘Don’t Tell Titus’. In the swanky interior, I sat reading the paper, drinking an overpriced pint of Saltaire Strawberry Blonde and waiting for my dhal and posh chips.
Further up the street is a small antique shop, which I visited after my lunch. Very expensive furniture was in abundance, slipjoints were in short supply. Avoiding the temptation of another pint in nearby Fanny’s Ale House, I instead headed for the bus-stop and caught a bus to Keighley, arriving there via the small town of Bingley, with its wondrous Five-Rise Locks.
Keighley has a rather grim reputation, which I’ve never felt it entirely deserves. Like most small West Yorkshire Towns, it has certainly seen more prosperous days, but it seems to be getting along OK, and much of the high street is still populated by small independent businesses rather than the homogenised stores which make high streets across Europe hard to distinguish from one another. Most towns have a junk shop or an antique store or two, but in the larger towns they’re often situated out of the centre, where rents are cheaper, but strangers are unlikely to find them. Keighley is only a small place, so I thought I’d have a poke around and see what I could find.
‘Scooby’s Bargains’ revealed little beyond a phone-pic to send to my mate Scooby in Sheffield, and some ugly generic modern folders. I had a good look round a large independent charity shop, but it was simply piled high with junk. Around the corner, a small shop called Jo-Jo’s appeared to show some promise, but upon entering I realised it was even more full of junk than the previous place. As I was turning for the door, a pile of fluorescent-coloured crochet began to move, and from among it, and clad identically, stood a small, and very mad-looking, old woman. She must have been at least 70, but sported a peroxide barnet streaked with shocking pink and crowned with a small brightly-coloured hat. I was quite alarmed by her sudden appearance and moved swiftly to the door, thanking her before she could engage me in conversation.
Outside, I was just bringing to mind Madame Gi-Gi of Knaresborough, and wondering why mad old women who run Yorkshire junk shops feel they are ‘so good’ they have to name themselves twice, when I spotted a group of teenage school boys being ejected from a pub, after evidently being refused service. In recently broken voices, the lads remonstrated among themselves about what had caused them not be served, and who might be responsible, apparently ignoring the fact they not only all looked to be about 12, but were wearing school uniform!
Passing on, I came to Keighley’s indoor market, which I’d not previously visited, despite coming to the town many times in the past. I had a good look round, and it was quite a decent market, but there was no knife content whatsoever.
Boarding another bus, I travelled to a small village called Silsden. Here I found a junk shop where I found a small treasure. Apparently these were common enough in their day, but I’ve never seen one of these sets before, which contain a Richards-made penknife and various tools which can be fitted into one end. Wostenholm came up with the idea in the mid 19th Century and Buck did something similar in the early 1990’s. This set dates from the 1960’s or early 1970’s I would guess, but appears to be unused.
On yet another bus, I travelled via the pleasant-looking village of Addingham, to the old Yorkshire spa town of Ilkley. Despite forever being linked to the Yorkshire dialect anthem ‘On Ilkley Moor Bah T’at’ (on Ilkley Moor without a hat), I don’t much care for toffee-nosed Ilkley. It has a nice bit of moor above the town, a good song, and bugger all else. So I quickly boarded another bus bound for Otley.
In Otley I managed to buy three folders for not much coin. Sadly, the larger MOP-handled penknife lacks a blade as well as provenance (as does the celluloid). Also, in a junk shop I’ve only visited once before, I found this beauty of a butcher’s knife, a big hefty thing, which might be a grail contender except for the fact it also lacks provenance.
In another shop, I came across these three fixed-blades. The owner said she hadn’t had time to price them yet. I enquired about the large Sheffield Whittle-tang Bowie at the rear. She told me she thought it might be worth £100! I wished her good luck in getting half that for it.
Worn out after a day’s travelling round Yorkshire, I returned to Leeds on yet another bus. Back at home I checked the Wizard’s original post to see how much longer I had, only to discover that the provision against stainless, which I’d thought was there, was simply a figment of my imagination! B***ocks! If I’d known that, the Wizard might have already had a prize, the 35-year old Joseph Rodgers kitchen knife I picked up months ago for instance!
Aw well!
The Hunt Continues!
Jack
Background: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-to-Jack-Black
Previous instalments -
Part 1: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-Knaresborough
Part 2: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-2
Part 3: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-3
Part 4: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-4
Part 5: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-5
Part 6: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-6
Part 7: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...s-Quest-Part-7
Part 8: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...re-Be-Monsters
Part 9: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...t-in-Yorkshire
Part 10: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...hieving-Varlet
Part 11: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/s...shire-With-A-Knife-The-Wizard-s-Quest-Part-11
Shipley, meaning ‘sheep clearing’ or ‘sheep pasture’, was settled in the Bronze age, and is today just another small West Yorkshire town. While searching on the internet, I’d read that there was some sort of indoor market in Shipley, specialising in antiques and ‘collectibles’, and so I thought it might be a good place to search out some pointy treasure.
I alighted from the Leeds bus close to a small industrial estate on the way into Shipley town centre, but I could find no trace of the much-publicised indoor market. In an open garage, I spotted an elevated VW Beetle being worked on, and stepped inside to familiar smells which made me think back to being a 16 year-old apprentice mechanic. In answer to my query about the market, a boiler-suited old feller told me it had only lasted a couple of months, before closing again. Of course nobody thought to update the numerous websites which advertise the venture.
After a few minutes of blather, I left the old mechanic to his Beetle and boarded another bus into Shipley. Just as the bus neared the town centre, I spotted a sign for a new junk shop, and rang the bell to allow me to jump off the bus.
Surrounded by old chimney stacks, a flight of stone steps led down into the new antiques emporium, and I eased my head under the low doorway and entered. Two large cellars were filled with old furniture, bureaus and sideboards and desks, and down at the end of the first room were several tall glass display cabinets. A callow youth appeared from the rear cellar to greet me and ask if I was after anything in particular. When I told him, he pointed me in the direction of one of the cabinets. This had an old clasp knife in, a Joseph Rodgers as it turned out, but the blade was practically worn away. The young man also showed me a recent-looking Fairbairn-Sykes dagger, which he seemed to quite like the look of himself. He didn’t know prices for the items, but rang his boss on a mobile phone. They were overpriced.
While the lad called his gaffer, I had a look in the other room, which contained a lot of unsorted junk. I found some Sheffield table cutlery along with a big old ham knife made by Ibbersons for the canteen of the West Riding Tyre Co (Shipley was part of the West Riding until the abolition of the Ridings in the early 1970’s). I also found an old folding stiletto, of the type which was very popular here in the 1970’s. Unlike most, it actually has genuine horn covers, as well as a carbon steel blade, which looks like it’s seen plenty of use and abuse. Most of the knives I saw like this in the 70’s were Italian, this one is simply marked ‘Foreign’ over ‘P’.
I ended up buying all the stuff I’d found in the back room at a reasonable price, and I marked the place down for a return visit sometime.
On leaving the junk shop, I walked up the hill to Shipley’s central square and marketplace. The market is billed as a ‘second-hand market’, but it really only sells fruit and veg and the like. Surrounding the market are rows of shops, about half of which are charity shops. I looked in a few, but didn’t see anything of interest.
Shipley also has a small indoor market, which must have been built in the 1960’s, and which I doubt has changed much since then. I entered by way of a particularly short escalator, which drops no more than ten feet. Inside, I looked at a second-hand book stall, and at another selling local ales from Saltaire Brewery and various bar towels and beer paraphernalia. On another stall, I spotted a couple of cheap ‘Sopranos’ boxed sets and snapped them up.
Exiting by the rear entrance to the market, I had a look in a small hardware store, and then crossed the road to walk down the hill, past yet more charity shops. At the bottom of the hill is an odd junk shop which sells everything from old lawnmowers to fishing tackle. I had a look around, there were a few nasty-looking modern folders on display behind the counter, and some even nastier-looking repro/fantasy Nazi daggers.
I left and walked down to the canal, which runs all the way from Liverpool to Leeds, leaving working-class Shipley behind me as I walked on to the cobbled streets of well-heeled Saltaire.
Yorkshire could have had a Titusville, but instead patrician industrialist Sir Titus Salt, gave his surname to the model village he had built in 1853, calling it after himself and the local river (he also gave his name to every other street and building). Along with houses for himself and his mill workers, somewhat different in scale of course, Sir Titus built vast mills, one of which was then the largest factory in Europe. Compared to the slums of Bradford, where most of them had lived previously, the workers got cleaner living conditions, with Sir Titus close at hand to tell them when to go to church, and to ensure that no alcohol was consumed within the village boundaries. Today, Saltaire village is a World Heritage Site, and the long-dead mill workers have been replaced by artists and accountants, while the 600 foot-long ‘Shed’, the top floor of Salt’s Mill, houses a bookshop, an expensive restaurant, and bijou shops and boutiques.
After my pleasant walk along the canal, I decided to have lunch and a pint at the cheekily named ‘Don’t Tell Titus’. In the swanky interior, I sat reading the paper, drinking an overpriced pint of Saltaire Strawberry Blonde and waiting for my dhal and posh chips.
Further up the street is a small antique shop, which I visited after my lunch. Very expensive furniture was in abundance, slipjoints were in short supply. Avoiding the temptation of another pint in nearby Fanny’s Ale House, I instead headed for the bus-stop and caught a bus to Keighley, arriving there via the small town of Bingley, with its wondrous Five-Rise Locks.
Keighley has a rather grim reputation, which I’ve never felt it entirely deserves. Like most small West Yorkshire Towns, it has certainly seen more prosperous days, but it seems to be getting along OK, and much of the high street is still populated by small independent businesses rather than the homogenised stores which make high streets across Europe hard to distinguish from one another. Most towns have a junk shop or an antique store or two, but in the larger towns they’re often situated out of the centre, where rents are cheaper, but strangers are unlikely to find them. Keighley is only a small place, so I thought I’d have a poke around and see what I could find.
‘Scooby’s Bargains’ revealed little beyond a phone-pic to send to my mate Scooby in Sheffield, and some ugly generic modern folders. I had a good look round a large independent charity shop, but it was simply piled high with junk. Around the corner, a small shop called Jo-Jo’s appeared to show some promise, but upon entering I realised it was even more full of junk than the previous place. As I was turning for the door, a pile of fluorescent-coloured crochet began to move, and from among it, and clad identically, stood a small, and very mad-looking, old woman. She must have been at least 70, but sported a peroxide barnet streaked with shocking pink and crowned with a small brightly-coloured hat. I was quite alarmed by her sudden appearance and moved swiftly to the door, thanking her before she could engage me in conversation.
Outside, I was just bringing to mind Madame Gi-Gi of Knaresborough, and wondering why mad old women who run Yorkshire junk shops feel they are ‘so good’ they have to name themselves twice, when I spotted a group of teenage school boys being ejected from a pub, after evidently being refused service. In recently broken voices, the lads remonstrated among themselves about what had caused them not be served, and who might be responsible, apparently ignoring the fact they not only all looked to be about 12, but were wearing school uniform!
Passing on, I came to Keighley’s indoor market, which I’d not previously visited, despite coming to the town many times in the past. I had a good look round, and it was quite a decent market, but there was no knife content whatsoever.
Boarding another bus, I travelled to a small village called Silsden. Here I found a junk shop where I found a small treasure. Apparently these were common enough in their day, but I’ve never seen one of these sets before, which contain a Richards-made penknife and various tools which can be fitted into one end. Wostenholm came up with the idea in the mid 19th Century and Buck did something similar in the early 1990’s. This set dates from the 1960’s or early 1970’s I would guess, but appears to be unused.
On yet another bus, I travelled via the pleasant-looking village of Addingham, to the old Yorkshire spa town of Ilkley. Despite forever being linked to the Yorkshire dialect anthem ‘On Ilkley Moor Bah T’at’ (on Ilkley Moor without a hat), I don’t much care for toffee-nosed Ilkley. It has a nice bit of moor above the town, a good song, and bugger all else. So I quickly boarded another bus bound for Otley.
In Otley I managed to buy three folders for not much coin. Sadly, the larger MOP-handled penknife lacks a blade as well as provenance (as does the celluloid). Also, in a junk shop I’ve only visited once before, I found this beauty of a butcher’s knife, a big hefty thing, which might be a grail contender except for the fact it also lacks provenance.
In another shop, I came across these three fixed-blades. The owner said she hadn’t had time to price them yet. I enquired about the large Sheffield Whittle-tang Bowie at the rear. She told me she thought it might be worth £100! I wished her good luck in getting half that for it.
Worn out after a day’s travelling round Yorkshire, I returned to Leeds on yet another bus. Back at home I checked the Wizard’s original post to see how much longer I had, only to discover that the provision against stainless, which I’d thought was there, was simply a figment of my imagination! B***ocks! If I’d known that, the Wizard might have already had a prize, the 35-year old Joseph Rodgers kitchen knife I picked up months ago for instance!
Aw well!
The Hunt Continues!
Jack
Last edited:
Are you gonna be sporting Brilcream and leatherjacket when I next see you?
