In the waiting room at Specsavers and couldn’t draw anyone without them spotting me so it was back to drawing my hand in my A6 landscape sketchbook.
iPad drawing in Clip Studio Paint
I was in for micro suction wax removal so I’ve done a few sessions in preparation lying on the sofa with olive oil in my ear. That’s an awkward angle for drawing and I realise that the Paperlike screen protector has lost its texture after eight months of use so my Apple Pencil was slipping about as I drew, so it’s time to renew it using the spare sheet that came in the pack.
iPad drawing in Clip Studio Paint
I’ve never replaced the drawing tip of my Apple Pencil so that’s something worth trying to give more traction and feedback from the drawing surface.
Fifty years ago today my exhibition, The Yorkshire of William Baines, marking the 50th anniversary of the death of the composer was in its second (and final) week at the Harrogate Festival. According to my diary William’s music and my show were getting a good reception.
I’ve been here before; coming through the darkened room with the piano and sitting down and watching. I definitely remember some of the slides particularly.
“I’ve been here before;” was the reaction of one young visitor, “coming through the darkened room with the piano and sitting down and watching. I definitely remember some of the slides particularly.”
His parents were equally enthusiastic; his mum thought ‘the music was marvellous’ and his dad mentioned that he had a friend who interviewed for Radio 3.
People had been so helpful as I prepared the show, loaning pictures, objects and manuscripts connected to the composer.
Helen Millifanti, curator of the Pump Room Museum, found me an Edison phonograph which we got working. It stood in a mocked-up parlour with an upright piano also on loan from the museum alongside a framed photograph of William as a toddler standing next to an Edison Bell Phonograph. I think that I remember that Mr Baines, William’s father, George William, sold them in his shop on the High Street; the latest technology in his day.
Radio Leeds
Ringing one of the Horbury Handbell Ringers’ bells in a Radio Leeds interview
Radio Leeds had just celebrated its fourth birthday. My interview with Peter Hawkins went well and they invited me to write and introduce a radio documentary on Baines to coincide with the anniversary in November.
Goodnight to Flamboro’
Surprising one of the visitors
The Man from Groves Dictionary
To celebrate William’s sea piece Goodnight to Flamboro’, I painted one of the sections of the clip together displays we’d assembled for the exhibition.
Highlight of the week was a recital by Eric Parkin on Friday 4th August. Peter Hawkins interviewed a cousin of William’s Elsie Hargreaves and his school day’s friend Ernest Hindle and I’m pleased to say that we still have a couple of brief clips in my Hat’s Off Gentleman – A Genius! documentary.
Miss Tiffany, a volunteer who often manned the desk at my Baines exhibition.
Amongst the audience was, according to my diary, a ‘Chorister from York’. That must have been Robin Walker, now a composer himself who has been busy producing a new recording of William’s music to launch this autumn for the 100th anniversary.
Bird and Wells
I got to meet Linda Kitson who was energetically working as artist in residence at the Festival. Drawing at events and recitals during the day and posting the results on a board in the Majestic Hotel in the evening. The ‘Writers Talking’ sessioin on Saturday 5 August included Stan Barstow and Terence Dicks. While Stan’s work is definitely inspired by gritty reality, Terence Dicks, script editor on Dr Who, explained that his ‘life has been free of super villains, space monsters and Cybermen’.
My life has been free of super villains, space monsters and Cybermen
All the while Linda Kitson was squatting on the floor, moving about to to draw the various speakers. I wished that I could be so fearless when out with my sketchbook. She assured me that I’d love working at the Royal College of Art. She’d recently graduated but she said she often dropped in, using the place as ‘her club’. I became a good deal more at ease drawing in public thanks to the weekly sessions drawing at London Zoo during my time at the RCA.
Surprise visitors: John Bird and John Wells
I was most star struck though meeting satirists John Bird and John Wells who’d come in to the Royal Baths, where my exhibition was held, to escape from the rain.
Gilbert Mills
A satisfied customer!
On Thursday, 10th August, veteran pianist Gilbert Mills introduced himself. Born ten years before William (so that would be about 1889) he championed William’s music in the very earliest days of radio, before the BBC was founded, giving recitals on 2LO, as it was called.
He demonstrated on the old upright piano in my mock-up of the Baines parlour. He insisted that Eric Parkin hadn’t got it right in his recording of Blackbird Singing in a Convent Garden. He played it with the trilling lilt that you get when a blackbird sings.
he was an odd bod. He was reckoned to be something of a genius even when he used to wander about Cleckheaton; gaunt-looking and huge hands, long fingers he had
A visitor on the final day of the exhibition who knew William
Sketching the ducks, cormorant, Canada geese and in-between black-headed gulls, some juveniles, some adults beginning to lose their black heads. We were surprised how few – if any – there were at the black-headed gull colony at St Aidan’s last week. They’d been so noisy in the spring and early summer. Now I guess they’ve dispersed with a hundred or more – perhaps St Aidan’s birds – turning up at Newmillerdam, where they can perch on fallen willows on the quieter bank of the lake and keep an eye out for hand-outs on the war memorial side.
And yes, I might have drawn more of them if I hadn’t been sidetracked by a Danish cinnamon pastry at the Boathouse.
These coots have raised a brood at the nest site I drew last year near in the corner by the outlet of the lake.
Thanks to instant communication, I was able to message my photograph of the Danish pastry to the far end of the lake as a warning to Barbara that I’d got tied up on essential business, however I beat her and her brother back to the car park and had time to draw two of the chimney stacks of the Fox and Hounds, adding the colour later from a photograph.
At Wakefield Naturalists’ Society’s first annual dinner, Tuesday, 17 February 1874, at the Strafford Arms, overlooking the Bull Ring, vice-president Mr G. Porrit, F.L.S., was called on to propose a toast:
I am gratified at having to propose “Success to the Wakefield Naturalists’ Society.” I feel certain that all visitors and others in this room wish the president and officers of this society every success and prosperity (hear, hear). Whatever they do they do it well, and so long as they can keep their respected president with them there need be no fear so far as the success of the society is concerned (hear, hear). I have much pleasure in proposing “Success to the Naturalist Society,” and am sorry I cannot remain longer with you, as the train for Huddersfield is already due. Before I go, however, allow me to couple with the toast the name of the president, Alderman Wainwright.
The toast was drunk amid loud applause
The Wakefield Free Press, 21 February 1874. British Library Board, all rights reserved.
What could possibly go wrong?
Strafford Arms, detail of a drawing of the Strafford Arms, the Bull Ring, Wakefield, c. 1890, by Henry Clarke. Copyright, Wakefield Historical Society, 1977.
In 1862, on Monday and Tuesday, 2nd and 3rd June, the Society staged an exhibition at the Music Salon to raise funds for the formation of a library for the Society.
‘The Exhibition will consist of several thousands of objects in Natural History, comprising choice specimens in Ornithology, Entomology, Conchology, Botany, Mineralogy, Geology. The greater part of the objects have been taken within six miles of Wakefield.’
The Reason for the Failure
‘Beyond explanation’ – the 1883 Annual Report
But an exhibition staged by the Society in the 1880s proved over ambitious. Here’s a reaction from a former member of the Society who thought that he could do a better job himself:
In the interests of science I hope you will allow me to explain the reason for the failure of the Wakefield Naturalists’ Society, which the annual report in the papers say is beyond explanation . . . The late Exhibition met with only half-hearted sympathy from some of the members. Since the Council Chamber [Wakefield’s old Town Hall in Crown Court off Wood Street] was rented there has not been a single lecture or essay – in fact not one meeting of the members has been advertised in any way . . . Are not these facts a sufficient reason to account for the large proportion of the members withdrawing their names. Then dog in the manger like when they will not go forward with the proposed Museum, and I set to work to do what they say they have abandoned for the time being (having packed away their specimens at a public house) . . . What is the use of ten members at the annual meeting keeping in existence only the name of an association.’
G. H. Crowther, letter to the editor, Wakefield Free Press 29 September 1883
The Saw Hotel
But four years later the Society was back on its feet again.
Remember those specimens ‘packed away in a public house’?
WAKEFIELD NATURALISTS’ SOCIETY
THE SEVENTEENTH ANNUAL SESSION of this Society was opened with an EXHIBITION of NATURAL HISTORY OBJECTS, in the SOCIETY’S ROOMS, SAW HOTEL on Wednesday, October 5th, 1887.
The Exhibition will remain open TO-DAY from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., and also on MONDAY, TUESDAY, and WEDNESDAY next, from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m.
The Public are invited. Admission Free.
WILLIAM RUSHFORTH
Honorary Secretary
Wakefield Free Press 08 October 1887
The Saw Hotel was on Westgate.
The good news is that the Wakefield Naturalists are still active today, with the next outdoor meeting a week on Sunday at Adel Nature Reserve: ‘super reserve for dragonflies and flowers which was closed throughout lockdown’.
The British Newspaper Archive provided jointly by the British Library and Findmypast. You can access the archive – and Findmypast – for free if you’re a member of Wakefield Libraries.
While digging the foundations for a garden room extension at the back of Smeath House, Horbury, last week builders came across this brick-lined cavity.
These two massive Yorkstone slabs covered the hole.
Photograph by Arden Aspinall.
Photograph by Graham Mouser
It was completely dry and hadn’t ever been filled in, so there was no dating evidence, other than the structure itself. As far as I could see the bricks had no maker’s name stamped on them.
Photograph by Graham Mouser
Two lead pipes extended up from the base of the cistern towards the house. You can see that a few loose bricks have been placed around the open end of the pipes, perhaps either to keep them in place or to trap any sediment that might find its way into the cistern.
There were two inlet pipes close to the top of the cistern. One came from the direction of the house and would have channelled rainwater from the roof and the other presumably fed in rainwater from outbuildings which have since been demolished.
There was a small amount of mortar between the bricks, which had fairly shallow frogs. It’s not all that obvious in the photographs but the hole tapers in gradually towards the top.
The Wash House
The wash house extension. Photograph by Amy Hacker
When my mum and dad bought Smeath House in the 1950s the Victorian extension to the original house (above, the window and door on the right) housed what we called the wash house. It was stone-flagged inside with a large enamel sink below the window which is now in use as a plant trough at Spinkwell House next door. We used the large Victorian mangle for years, until woodworm got into the wooden rollers.
There was a cylindrical galvanised boiler which my dad later used as water butt sunk into one of the beds of his greenhouse.
The Victorians used rainwater was used for laundry as it was softer than water from the well. A well which might have served both houses gave its name to Spinkwell and is still there, covered over, at the corner of an ivy-covered rockery.
My mum was resident at Smeath House for about 60 years but during that time we never suspected that there was a cavity under the back yard. The back yard was probably concreted over in the late 1940s or early 1950s when the house was converted into two flats.
Corner of ‘the wash house’ extension. The cable was installed by my dad in the 1960s to light and heat his greenhouse at the top end of the back lawn.
The foundation trench for the garden room has exposed the foundations of the ‘wash house’ extension. l’m not sure if that the sandstone is bedrock or a massive flagstone.
Barbara and I got a chance to see the structure yesterday as they started to fill it in. It looks as if it is approximately half-filled here.
Capacity
Very roughly, I’d guess we’re looking at a storage capacity of a cylinder 6ft across and 6ft high, which would hold about 170 cubic feet of water, over 1000 gallons, nearly 5 cubic metres (my thanks to Harvey who pointed out that my original calculation was way out because I’d confused radius with diameter).
The Mortimer Row Mystery
Steve Hunter and Bob Durham at the ‘mystery hole’ behind Mortimer Row. Wakefield Express photograph
In 1979, a very similar structure was found less that 100 yards to the north west of the Smeath House water cistern at the back of one of the houses on Mortimer Row.
Wakefield Express article
When Gillian Simpson posted this article on the Horbury and Sitlington History Group Facebook Page, Bob Durham recalled:
We found all sorts of things in that ‘well’. Old childrens lace up shoes, bottles, cups and saucers. Metal work files. It wasn’t round tho! It was more egg shaped and the red smooth faced brickwork was so tightly. It was a pity to fill it in.
Bob Durham
As the article mentions one of the items was a cup, dated 1911, belonging to Horbury Urban District Council, unfortunately there was no similar dating evidence in the Smeath House water cistern.
Celebrating a golden wedding, Lin (my sister) and Dave’s, with their sons Richard, James and Tom plus grandson Dylan supplying the music.
Dylan and Tom (not the complete drum kit: in addition to the bongos he had a tambourine which he played with his right foot).
I already knew that my sister during her time at Cambridge had had two close encounters with Prince Charles, himself a student at there at the time: one when she nearly ran in to him on her bike and another when she was next in the queue to him in the bread shop and she bought the muffin that had been next to the one that His Royal Highness bought.
Lin takes Prince Charles home one weekend to meet our mum and Burke the black cat. This looks like a fake to me, but then surely my mum wouldn’t normally dress like that to take in the washing?
But according to a Golden Wedding ballad performed by the boys there was more to it than that. In their version it’s Charles that runs into Lin to get her attention and Dave – a student in Liverpool – has to leap on his scooter and drive to Cambridge for a dramatic face-off with the Prince on the college croquet lawn.
My brother Bill and I were the grooms at the wedding. Family friend Muriel was convinced that I’d get my hair cut.
More celebrations: happy birthday to Zoe on the Isle of Man.
Town pigeon taking great care to select the perfect twig at Pinderfields this morning.
Missing out on the line drawing stage and going straight to areas of tone and colour, using the Lasso Fill tool in Clip Studio Paint. Foot drawn from life. The man in the hat reminds me of a slim version of Alastair Sim.
This soft drawstring bag is for my dji Osmo Mobile 3, a kind of Steadicam device for filming with a mobile phone (even with my shaky hands!). I bought it immediately pre-pandemic for a short film I had in mind but two years later I haven’t picked up the pieces of that project.
