The Shoe Museum, Street

The Shoe Museum, Street

Street in Somerset is a shoe town, well more accurately a village. Since the 1830s Clarks have been making shoes in Street, and while their shoes are now manufactured abroad, its headquarters are still located there. Within these headquarters is housed the most delightful little museum.

Passing through the corporate-style glass doors you find the introductory section which tells of the origins of Clarks and has a fabulous display of some of the fearsome foot measuring machines that used to feature in their shops. There’s also a selection of shop display showcards from the thirties, fifties and sixties. In fact ‘showcard’ does them an injustice - some are stylish and charming little 3D dioramas.

Up the wooden staircase the museum really gets into its stride, with a comprehensive chronological display of the history of shoes, housed in simple vitrines with hessian backed displays, a touch that reminds me of museums in the seventies and perhaps gives a clue as to when this museum was established. While the overriding emphasis is on shoes worn in Britain, from Roman times on, there are plenty of examples of footwear from all over the world, including some adorable Chinese silk children’s shoes. Even the most resistant visitor will soon be fascinated, as my (male) companion will happily confirm.

There’s plenty of contextual information should you need it, especially from the 19th century and on, including fashion pictures, advertisements, catalogue illustrations and photographs of shops. But its also possible, and perfectly natural, just to ooh and aah. One thing you can’t do it is rush through it - there’s so much to detain you despite its small size. Importantly, you are welcome to take pictures, something that cannot be taken for granted in many museums these days.

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Yanks Weekend, Saddleworth

A Nazi and Captain Mainwairing

What is it about the Second World War that inspires such obsessive fascination in some folk? As a subject of 20th century history it is like a giant cuckoo in the nest, pushing out everything else that might divert attention away from it. Witness the history channels that broadcast wall-to-wall Hitler/Churchill documentaries. It evokes heroic values, courage, forbearance, all pulling together, digging for victory and making do and mending. Not to mention the perennial appeal of the uniforms, the fashions and the catchy tunes. I suspect that the cinema has something to do with it. There have been epic movies made on the subject every decade, practically since armistice was declared.

One such film is ‘Yanks,’ filmed in 1978, and starring Richard Gere. Locations in the Saddleworth area were used, and to mark this event Saddleworth hosts an annual weekend-long event that attracts Second World War aficionados from across the country. Attractions include the chance to admire original military vehicles and browse the handful of stalls selling vintage clothing, military garb and 2WW collectables. There’s also evening dances if you want to show off your jitterbugging skills. Most compelling of all is the chance to see enthusiasts dressed up as US Army sergeants driving round in jeeps and Nazi commanders in black leather trenchcoats.

We visited on the last day - a dull, cold and drizzly Sunday - and found that the village of Uppermill that was hosting the Yanks ‘camp’ had not yet roused itself. Indeed, it took some effort to find the camp at all, since signposting duties had been neglected. Our timing was off, we were thoroughly drenched by 10.30 and disinclined to hang around for the parade. This was a disappointment, because I had been looking forward to the “the biggest military convoy in the UK” and the attendant genuine army veterans that were to feature. We also missed the re-enactments of scenes from the film, with a Richard Gere look alike. As a reporter, I’m a sad failure, and certainly don’t have the fortitude of those wartime heroes who shrugged off bullets rather than raindrops.

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Salford Lads Club, Manchester

Salford Lads Club

Hardly an unknown institution, the Salford Lads Club has benefited from a tenuous connection with a celebrated Manchester band. It is now a site of pilgrimage for Smiths fans who queue up to have their picture taken under the distinctive green and white sign.

We were drawn by an exhibition of photographs of the local area called “The Smiths is Dead: Iconic Images From the Dirty Old Town” held to mark the 20th anniversary of Stephen Wright’s Queen is Dead photo session. These were displayed in the pristine Billiard Room, complete with its original tables and fittings. The photographs explored the cultural past of the neighbourhood, and highlighted the area’s importance, not least as the location of the original Coronation Street and Rover’s Return pub, and its role in supplying an authentic ‘Northern’ backdrop to the film East is East.

It was here that we met an enthusiastic volunteer called Leslie Holmes who gave us a guided tour of the building. Next to the Billiard Room is a tiny office containing card file records of every single boy who has ever been a member of the club. This was a persistent theme throughout our visit - the organisers and volunteers have, throughout its history, kept impeccable records and documented just about every event that the club has organised, including photographs of every summer camping holiday - they seem to have always chosen Aberystwyth but I could be wrong. It was a joy to leaf through albums of group portraits year by year and spot faces that soon became familiar. One in particular, Archie, joined as a 12 year old, became a volunteer in later years, and has just been awarded an MBE for his ‘Lifetime voluntary service with young people at Salford Lads’ and Girl’s Club.’

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Tetford Scarecrow Festival, Lincolnshire

Scarecrow having tea

As a petulant teenager, Tetford was a place of exile. We moved there in the early 1980s and I had never lived anywhere quite so remote. It wasn't 'on the way' to anywhere, there was barely any traffic, there was one bus a day to a nearby market town, and one shop. I got out as soon as I could.

Occasional family visits in the following years taught me a little tolerance and even appreciation. Its setting in a picturesque valley in the rolling Lincolnshire Wolds, the peace so resounding that a sheep's bray sounded deafening and the miles of country paths to be negotiated behind a straining and excitable dog.

But my last visit was a revelation. Sometime in the last three or four years - I could be wrong here - the Tetford community established a yearly scarecrow festival and secured the participation of nearly every household within its boundaries. Held on the first weekend of May (Saturday, Sunday and the Bank Holiday Monday), the festival sees home made scarecrows installed in gardens, driveways, on fences and pavements and even wooded glades. Since the village is formed by a loop of road this makes a pleasingly gentle circuit of roughly one mile.

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