Photography And "Twicker"
Photography and "Twicker"
One of the other armourers in the room was Peter Harrison from Sheffield whose nickname was Twicker, he got the name from the well known part of Sheffield called The Wicker which is pronounced as his nickname.

We got quite friendly and he got me interested in Traditional Jazz and photography. He invited me to his parents home in Sheffield one weekend and he introduced me into the art of developing and printing photographs. I bought a new camera and various accessories for it and went around Beverley and district taking photographs. I then proceeded to purchase developing and printing equipment and spent a lot of time with this in the ironing room in the billet when it was quiet at the weekend. I joined an evening class at the local high school which was run by a photographer who had a shop in Beverley. He was of the old school of photography and took all his photographs at weddings, etc. on a plate camera whereas I had a 35mm camera. he asked me to bring a roll of exposed film to the class and he would develop it. But he didn’t know enough about 35mm and handed me a roll of wet film at the end of the evening which was subsequently ruined by the time I got it dried.

He asked if I would like to go with him on Saturdays when he had one or two weddings to photograph. The idea was that I would shoot a roll of film and, if he missed any shots, he would use mine. He had three weddings to take the next Saturday and it was planned like a battle and we sped from one to the other in his battered old Vauxhall. He supplied all the film but there was no payment involved. He said he developed the plate photos himself but, having seen his darkroom, I believe he got them processed with another company. I went out with him on another two occasions. Some years later I went back to see him but the shop had changed hands.  Peter Harrison was a bit of an idiot, he would get up to all sorts of mischief without bothering about the consequencies. We had a days holiday and the armourers decided to have a day out in Bridlington. A bus was hired and we all went our various ways when we arrived there. We were to meet again at 10pm for the journey back to the camp and everyone was there except Peter. We went searching for him but 45 minutes later decided to leave without him and let him find his own way back. We all had a good laugh about his predicament but, when we reached camp, Peter was lying sleeping in his bed. I though he was going to get murdered. It seems he had met a young girl and got talking then went for a drink and a meal. She lived in Hull so he decided to accompany her back in the train and get off in Beverley. He didn’t think we would mind !
Share by: