My son has written a piece for The Spectator about his love of antique shops.
I think he may have inherited his interest from his great grandfather (on my father's side of the family).
When my grandfather retired in the mid Sixties my grandparents moved from an old Victorian house in Chertsey, Surrey, to an even older property in Dorset.
The thatched house in Fifehead Neville near Sturminster Newton had originally been three farmworkers’ cottages, parts of which were over 300-years-old.
Everything about the house, including the furniture, felt old – and I loved it because it was so different to our home on a modern housing estate in Maidenhead, Berkshire.
The four houses my parents bought between 1963 and 1980 were either new or no more than ten years old. Their taste in furniture (and furnishings) was modern too. You could say they were the Habitat generation.
Items included an Ercol dining table and chairs, an Ercol armchair, an Ercol settee, and even an Ercol rocking chair.
Named after Luciano Randolfo Ercolani (who was born in Italy in 1888 but moved to Britain as a child), mid 20th century Ercol furniture is now considered a design classic:
The new post-war sensibility saw the birth of the iconic mid-century modern style, which favoured furniture with simple, functional designs and easy, clean lines. During these post-war years, especially the 1950s, Ercol released some of its most iconic pieces that we still know and love today.
Sixty years later my mother still has several items of Ercol furniture, including the dining table and rocking chair, both in immaculate condition.
If I had the money I'd love to own a substantial Georgian, Victorian or Edwardian house, and fill it with furniture and other items that would complement the property.
The oldest piece of furniture I've ever possessed that would fit that brief was a chaise lounge. It had been upholstered by the previous owner (who gave it to me when he moved house and didn't have room for it), but despite looking nice it was hard and uncomfortable. I gave it away many years ago.
The oldest item of furniture I currently own is a large oak dining table. I bought it almost 40 years ago from a shop in Chiswick, close to the Barley Mow Workspace where I worked.
There was evidence of woodworm (that had been treated) and it's solid rather than beautiful, but it was love at first sight – rather like the rustic pine bed I bought in Bath a year or two earlier.
The latter was too big for the studio flat I was renting at the time so I had it delivered to a friend's house where it lived for two years before I had a room large enough to accommodate it.
Perhaps I've inherited a little bit of my parents' taste because the item that arguably gives me the most pleasure is a contemporary double swirl oak floor lamp from John Lewis.
I bought it two years ago, shortly after New Year, to fill the gaping hole that appeared in the corner of the room when the Christmas tree was taken down. It's neither antique nor vintage, but I love it.
In fact, I never thought that an item of furniture would give me so much pleasure, but it has.
As for antique shops, I couldn't write an article about them but I do remember one shop – in Thistle Street, Edinburgh.
The owner was the father of a friend of mine at university. Aldric was a lovely man, a little eccentric, but always generous and entertaining.
He also owned several other properties in Thistle Street, including the flat my wife and I lived in for 18 months after we got married.
The shop was only a few yards away and I remember it being a very quiet and tranquil space. Most items, though, were well out of our league.
One piece of advice: never visit an antiques shop under the influence of alcohol. Forty years ago, in London, I did just that and it cost me!
The shop was very close to the Ealing pub where I had just had lunch with a friend, and something drew us in.
Inside there was an old pendulum wall clock and without thinking to haggle I parted with over £100 (almost £400 today). It wasn't even a particularly beautiful clock. But the worst thing was, it has never worked.
The person I had lunch with that day was a friend who I lost contact with after she got married and moved with her husband to Hong Kong and, later, Australia.
Now they are back in the UK and by coincidence I am having lunch with her in a couple of weeks. I'll have to ask if she remembers the clock because, as I recall, she was a bit shocked when I bought it!
Anyway, you can read my son’s article here. Judging by the comments it seems to have struck a chord with a number of readers.
See: The melancholy of an antiques shop (The Spectator)