The Farmer & His Wife
John Taylor can never resist antiques shops.
AFEW years ago Anne and I were in Kirkby Lonsdale. Anne caught me in an antiques shop buying a beautiful watercolour of the local church. She was impressed, especially as it had cost just £15.
Now, the painting hangs in my study. I must get round to putting someone’s name on the back of it, otherwise, once we’re gone, it will get sold along with all the rest of our hard-earned, much-loved furniture.
But whose name? Family squabbles over who gets what may be avoided if we try to sort things out while we still can.
We have always bought bits of furniture and items to make a house into a home, even before we were wed.
One Friday evening, many years ago, Mother and Dad had gone to the weekly sale at Ladybank. At the preview, Mother had taken a fancy to an old oak settle.
I’ll never forget the row there was in our kitchen that Friday night, when they came home without it.
“Why didn’t you bid again? You knew I wanted it.” That was to my father.
“Why didn’t you?” he asked. “I was leaving it up to you.” I later learned that the settle had been knocked down to a dealer from St Andrews.
I met Anne in Cupar the following Tuesday and over a tea and a scone in Elder’s Café I told her about the row.
“Why don’t you go back home by St Andrews, John? See if Mr Foster bought it?”
I did and, sure enough, it was at the back of his shop. I could see why Mother wanted it – it was beautiful.
I asked the price.
“Five pounds,” was the reply. It was out of our reach. While I had a bit of money in the savings bank from selling rabbits, it wasn’t much.
“Would you keep it for three days while I speak to Anne?” He agreed.
On the Wednesday evening I went to see Anne.
“Let’s buy it, John. I’ll put in half.”
The next day, Anne went into St Andrews to see Mr Foster.
“Could you bring down your price?”
He was reluctant, explaining that it was very old, made between 1670 and 1700. He’d also had to do some work on it to repair the seat.
But eventually he took pity on her and reduced the price by her bus fare to St Andrews, plus 10 shillings if she ‘d pick it up.
We’ve laughed about it over the years. If we had quarrelled and not got wed, who would have owned the settle?
But, of course, we did get married and we still have the settle. The problem now is, whose name do we put on its back? I wish I knew.