On the Antiques Roadshow, someone had a collection of
walking sticks. They all seemed to be
quite valuable, so I dashed out to the hall to check the two I have. I’m fairly sure they are both worthless in
money, but they’ve made me wonder, as seems to happen quite often recently
about things, where they came from and what they might really be worth, in
history.
The one on the right, I suspect, belonged to my maternal
grandfather, Esmond Lloyd Rae. I
remember quite a lot about him, but mostly dating from his latter days when he
was stroke- and bedridden, blind, and I had to kiss his stubbly cheek goodnight
in his smelly room. In earlier years he
was a jolly music-loving toper who grew raspberries and kept chickens; and he
played the violin well, I was often told.
I don’t think I ever heard him play, although can one ever be sure about
that kind of thing? – when was the first time you ever heard the sound of a
violin?
That walking stick, with its cool black ebony finish and
the firmly functional no-nonsense knob at the top, looks to me exactly like the
kind of accessory a proud Yorkshireman called Esmond would brandish on a
youthful promenade in Wakefield. So
that’s the imaginary story I’m assigning to that one.
The one on the left intrigues me more. The handle is carved ivory, and looks as
though it’s been well-caressed. (The
carvings round the top are quite worn.)
More importantly, although you can’t see it in the photo, the ferrule
bears the inscription ‘F G L’. Knowing
what I do of my family history, the ‘F’ must stand for Frank, and the ‘L’ for
Large; but what about the ‘G’? It could
only be George, couldn’t it? But there
isn’t a Frank George Large in the family tree my sister compiled, which took
that side back to at least 1840.
And off goes my imagination again. I want to see Frank George, in the early 19th
century, switching this walking stick around, sauntering along the towpath at
Lechlade, just for show. And I want to
know what he was thinking about.
I never will, obviously, so I’ll have to make it up. Meanwhile, I’ve just recently spotted someone
else’s collection of shooting sticks …
You and I do think alike, Tim - after the programme I was looking at our walking sticks - and rejecting them all as without value, in fact. There is one that's quite interesting though, so thanks for the idea.
ReplyDeleteI think my family must have wobbled and fallen over a lot as I have no sticks to wonder about. But I do have an ancient and interesting pocket watch, which set my mind wandering.
ReplyDeleteSx
My paternal grandfather used to walk with the aid of sticks, but they were nasty metal NHS issue ones. After he went senile (in his mid 70s) he forgot he had a bad back and didn't use his sticks anymore.
ReplyDeleteOur hunting/shooting/fishing neighbour made himself a similar stick-handle from a stag's antler.(Which is what yours looks like.)
ReplyDeleteFunny how everything used to be monogrammed.... Hankies, lighters, stick.... We don't seem to go in for it much now. Although we have just bought a personalised number plate.....
ReplyDeleteI believe the G was for Geronimo. I remember those sticks with great fondness, never having been beaten with them, not even by you. Yes I think it was antler.
ReplyDeleteBoth examples are certainly more elegant than Nordic walking poles.
ReplyDeleteTim - REA - an easy mistake to make ;-)
ReplyDeleteRight, so now I need to create a story involving a pocket watch, stags and their antlers, NHS support, Native American child abuse, Nordic poles (are they like Polish swedes?) and my grandfather's maiden name or something ... Fine. Whatever you say.
ReplyDeleteWe don't have any old walking sticks, just new ones made when Barney was going through a walking stick making phase.
ReplyDelete