Some Pottery Bits and Pieces

September 30, 2026 Tim Campbell-GreenLeave a comment

What ho! What ho! And, if you’ll permit me… What ho!

As promised… some pottery! Ahhhh, the screams of joy and happiness that accompany those words, always a pleasure to hear. The swearing is a bit off, but there is no accounting for some people. And the personal threats of violence are a bit much. And I think the man who appears to be forming some sort of one-man angry mob, complete with flaming torch and pitchfork, is a bit doo-lally… poor chap.

Pottery. We haven’t had too much of this lately, sadly (yes, thank you Mr Shouty-Outy… we know what you think only too well), and so here we are with a random selection of pottery sherds. I love this stuff so much; each sherd is a tiny fragment of the past, a tangible link to a long-gone world, and a tactile reminder that the past is all around us – we just need to look. And look I do, to the detriment of my back… old hunched Richard III they’ll call me soon enough (and yes, Mr Shouty-Outy, I know you have been calling me a Richard III for years, and yes, I too know rhyming slang).

Anyway, enough of the unpleasantries , on with the sherd-show!

First up, a small sherd from Derbyshire Level. Just by the urn-off for Brownhill Farm, they had dug a new manhole for the electricity or telecoms, and had disturbed some soil in doing so. Well, never looking a G H in the M, I looked to see what I could see, if anything. And lo… something! A sherd of Manganese Mottled Ware presented itself.

Absolutely lovely, the mottled brown surface produced by the manganese glaze melting in the kiln. I’ve talked about Manganese Mottled Ware in the Rough Guide to Pottery (Part 7 – here), and I think this sherd is part of the belly of a cup like this one:

Dating to the early 18th century (1700 – 1720ish), it is small, very refined, and quite lovely. People often ask how I know how it is not more modern (and the Victorians did use manganese glaze), and I respond that it is all in the fabric – the meat of the pot, rather than the skin, so to speak. In the Victorian period, the fabric is always white, whereas the earlier stuff (mid 17th to mid 18th century) is always a yellow, cream, or very pale brown colour, and often with red or brown inclusions within it. It’s very characteristic, once you know it, and I wish I had a better camera in order to show it better.

Next to it, amongst the soil. was this odd piece of bronze (or some other form of copper alloy):

Thin, hollow, and vaguely peanut shaped in section, I have no idea what it is. It’s heavy – probably due to the high lead content in the bronze, which also suggests it is quite old; that and the fact that people didn’t use bronze for very much past the 18th century. The ends seem to be finished and smooth, so I don’t think its the shank of a spoon or similar that has broken off, and the surface looks almost as though it was silvered at some stage, but I can’t be sure. Also, the Roman road from Castleton (Navio) passes very close by, and whilst I don’t think it’s that old, who knows? Anyone any ideas? Let me know.

Sticking with Manganese Mottled Ware, here is a sherd from the site of Whitfield Green Farm:

A body sherd from another mug or cup, similar to the one above, and of a similar age – late 17th or early 18th century. Also from Whitfield Green Farm (the track to Lean Town), and of a similar date, is this pile of sherds, some of which I glued back together to rebuild this base to a large pancheon

You can see from this photo that the exterior is slipped in a red, but not glazed, and the base also has a string mark where it was removed from the potter’s wheel. The clay also has that characteristic brown and cream marbling that I talked about here. The pancheon has a base diameter of 30cm or so…it’s huge!

Sticking with the Black Glazed pottery, we have a few sherds of late 17th or early 18th century pottery – those thick bands where it was turned on the wheel are a bit of a giveaway.

It’s almost Cistercian Ware, but later – an evolved form, if you will – and it has a very hard, almost vitrified fabric, with small inclusions, which also recalls the 17th century stuff.

It’s early, I know that much, and is from an open bowl type vessel.

Here is a fragment of a clay pipe bowl I found in a field just of Derbyshire Level:

It’s very roughly made, and is early to mid 19th century in date, according to the charts shown here, and looking at the inside, you can see where the tobacco had burned the surface, which I find wonderful:

You can also see where the wire has pushed through the stem to create the hole through which smoke was drawn. I have tried to recreate what it would have looked like, with a slight forward tilting angle.

Not perfect, but it works… I think (I might have to change the image!)

Next we have a wonderful sherd of early Derbyshire Stoneware, found on the footpath across the field to the east of the graveyard of St Michael and All Angels, Mottram.

The orange-peel skin, caused by the salt-glazing process, is so clear in the light here – lovely stuff.

Right, so bear with me here whilst I do the sherd-nerdery, and explain what I mean by that. So, the earlier Nottingham Stoneware (c.1700 – 1800) is characterised by a chocolatey-brown slip, and refined shapes, thin walls, fine lathe-made horizontal decorative bands on the exterior, and an orange peel skin. This sherd has these features, absolutely, but the glaze is the darker brown of the later Derbyshire Stoneware (much more commonly found), and importantly, the interior is of a cream/grey colour (that is, it has not been slipped in the iron-rich paste that fires to the classic brown colour). This suggests to me that it bridges the gap between both, and perhaps giving a date of 1790-1820, just as production shifts to the potteries in Derbyshire. The shape is a flared-mouth open bowl, with a flat ledge rim, and although much broken, it had a diameter of roughly 18cm, so not large.

Sticking with brown stoneware, are these small sherds:

On the left is a bit of similarly aged early Derbyshire Stoneware – late 18th century, or thereabouts. It’s thin walled, and brown on the interior too, so probably an open shape. Not having the chocolate creamy colour of the early stuff, and yet too refined and orange-peeled of surface for the later stuff, it sits in the valley between both.

On the right, another tiny sherd of Manganese Mottled Ware, a body fragment with a horizontal band running around it:

The pale creamy body is the same as that of the above Manganese Mottled Ware, and it is probably from a tankard or jug, as pictured here, from the wonderful Chipstone Foundation:

These look a lot browner, but the glaze is the same, and the shape, too.

Both of these sherds were found in the soil of a flattened molehill in Manor Park, suggesting that something was happening in that area in the early 18th century – unsurprising, really, and it may be connected with the original Glossop Hall, known as Royle Hall, which was constructed from 1729 onwards. It also backs up my theory that you should ALWAYS CHECK A MOLEHILL, PEOPLE! It honestly is amazing what turns up whilst playing cricket with one’s son – this was found in the middle of our improvised pitch!

Also in Manor Park, by the duckpond, was this tiny fragment:

Using the clues in the design, a search online produced this complete version:

A cup celebrating the coronation of King George VI in 1937, which dates the pile of soil and rubbish in that area, deposited as part of the substantial landscaping that took place here over the years following its conversion from the garden of Glossop Hall to a public park in 1927. Love it, despite it being borderline not archaeology in my mind – only 101 years old.

And to end with, I’d like to shine a little light on Master CG. It is slightly related, in that it includes archaeology, but also… it’s my website! He’s growing up fast (he’s 10… eeeek!), but he’s an amazing young man, and a joy to go Wandering and adventuring with, and he’s also got a keen eye for pottery and other bits, including this lovely bottle. Discovered sticking out of the soil of the woodland path on the way to Hyde swimming baths (and whilst we were looking for conkers), he excavated it quickly, and lo… it was whole. I’m so proud of him – he’s genuinely an absolute corker!

A small ‘teaspoons’ bottle – it has embossed measurements in teaspoons along the side so you didn’t need to measure it actually using a teaspoon.

It has some lovely bubbles in the glass, a feature of the manufacturing process – which at this point consisted of molten glass hand blown into a mold, with the neck being shaped and applied afterwards.

Probably late 19th century in date, and normally used for medicines, the ‘teaspoons’ (or ‘2 teaspoons’, as it is here) bottle is fairly common, but is always a joy to find, and certainly gives me a warm fatherly pride watching my son dig it up so deftly. Amazing stuff! And now… let’s play conkers!

That’s all for now, but more soon, promise. Until then, do look after yourselves and each other – we are all important… even you, Mr Shouty-Outy, even you. Until then, I remain.

Your humble servant,

TCG

Archaeology · History

A Follow Up Bullet-in

May 8, 2025May 29, 2025 Tim Campbell-Green1 Comment

I know, I know, I promised pottery… and I can see you are upset by this, but something exciting has come up. Well, two things to be honest. Well, actually many things, but for now let’s focus on the two things that prompted me to write this post. And in particular, it seems appropriate to post it on the 80th anniversary of VE Day.

Ok, so, a friend showed me something interesting the other day (hello E.T.!) – a 1920’s dump site in the Glossop area. There are a few of these dumps around, including some early Victorian ones (and no, I honestly don’t know the location of any of these – this sort of thing is a closely guarded secret that even I’m not privy to… sadly!). This one was very small, and had mostly been built over by 1930’s/1940’s housing, sadly. I didn’t find much at all apart from a few bits of pottery (to be talked about in a later post), and some odds and ends including a bead, and some interesting looking buttons. However, Mrs CG found what we initially thought was a rifle cartridge. Well, it turns out it was a cartridge… of sorts, but is actually more of an interesting story than just that.

Now, you might remember a few years ago I blogged about the rifle range at Mossy Lea. It’s essentially the story of the local Rifle Volunteer Corps, and in particular their use of different weapons, and their corresponding bullets, at the range. One of these was the Lee-Metford .303 – the standard issue rifle leading up to WWI, and thing that fired one of these:

The two in the middle are from the .303 Lee-Metford, the ones we’re talking about.

Well, I could tell that the found was a .303 cartridge by its shape – it has a lip around the base, and from the other – bullet – end I could tell that it was an early version (the later bullets are more tapered, whereas this looked more rounded); “what ho Lee-Metford!” I muttered to myself. So it was interest that I started to clean the cartridge, thinking that if it’s live I’ll have to hand it into the police station; live ammunition can be dangerous, but it is also very illegal to own without a licence, and I’m not going to argue with that.

Awful photo. Just shocking. I’m in the process of buying a cheap second-hand camera with some form of macro setting.

As I moved round the bullet end, I was expecting a copper jacket covering a lead/nickel centre, the kind illustrated above, only complete. Instead, what I found was a wooden copy of a bullet – exactly the same shape, but made instead of wood, possibly Lignum Vitae or similar non-rotting type.

Honestly, my new phone is truly terrible. I know… a bad workman, and all that, but honestly, I find it very difficult to take a good photograph with it, especially as it has no macro setting, which means I can’t take quality close-up photographs

Ok, I thought, and looking closely at the end of the cartridge, I saw it had no primer cap – the bit that is hit by the firing pin which then explodes and sets off the main explosive charge in the cartridge proper. And looking again, I saw the body of the cartridge had 4 holes drilled in it . I quickly realised that it wasn’t live, and it was in fact a ‘dummy’ cartridge – an inert round, with neither actual explosive (hence the holes) nor fireable bullet – which was designed to be loaded into a rifle safely, allowing training in loading and shooting, without the danger of it being accidentally fired. And this tells a more interesting, story, I think.

You can see where the wooden bullet was turned on a lathe – the nipple at the end is where it was attached to the lathe itself.

There was the hint of a marking on the headstamp – the bit at the bottom where the cap is, and which contains all the details needed to identify the what, where, and when of the cartridge – but the only way to reveal it would be to sandpaper the corrosion away, revealing the metal itself. After some debating, I decided that the metal is too far corroded to do this – there is very little actual metal left, and it is largely just Verdigris, and that to try and ‘clean’ it would essentially destroy the artefact. And then, after debating some more, I thought “tally ho, let’s give it a go”. An interesting, if tense, 10 minute dalliance with some oil and very high grade sandpaper, and voila! The headstamp is revealed:

G. 13. VII

Well… down a rabbit hole I went, head first, and with a glass of ‘potion‘ glasped firmly in hand (the bottle said ‘Drink Me‘… who am I to argue with that?), I began researching headstamp markings of early British .303 cartridges. Blimey! I thought pottery was a niche and very geeky subject! I love coming to a focused and highly specialised collecting hobby as an outsider, just dipping in; the level of knowledge – and sheer insanity – on display in some of the collecting forums (fora, technically… I know) is truly outstanding. And whilst I don’t understand the finer points, nor understand why anyone would want to, I fully and completely understand the compulsion, the drive, the need to explore the subject, and to hyperfocus in order to give order to a noisy and disordered ~~mind~~ world. I am also only too aware of what this says about me: I know it… you know it… so let’s move on!

So then, what does it all mean? Well, the ‘G‘ references Greenwood and Batley Ltd of Leeds, the engineering firm who physically made the cartridge. The ‘13‘ is the year it was made – 1913. And ‘VII‘ is the Mark Number – think Version VII of the bullet’s development. Specifically, Mark VII was introduced in 1910 as a development on the earlier types. It contained cordite as an explosive charge (rather than nitrocellulose) and was fitted for the new ‘spitzer’ long pointed bullets (on the right in the photograph of the bullets above), rather than the older style rounded-end bullets – the kind I found on the rifle range. I presume that this was overlooked for the training cartridge, as the wooden bullet is round shaped, not a the ‘spitzer’ type, despite it being a Mark VII on the headstamp. Here is a very detailed article on these developments, should you have an interest in such matters.

So then… why does this matter, beyond a passing interest? Well, the only reason for there to be a training cartridge in Glossop, is if there was training! And the only military training going on here, was with the 6th Battalion of the Cheshire Regiment, the part-time territorial army that I blogged about in the original rifle range article. This training cartridge could only have been used by the Glossop Territorials, and somehow ended up on a 1920’s dumpsite. Genuinely, I love this – something used by one of the men in this photo.

The territorials outside the drill hall in Glossop Town Hall.

Now, those buttons… I haven’t cleaned them yet, but I could see that one was different, and that I did clean. It came from the same ‘area’ as the bullet (on the surface, 1 metre away), and thus I believe to be from the same dumping episode.

Button cleaned, and with a little oil applied to bring out the detail. I love it.

It’s a simple General Service Button of a post-Queen Victorian type (the crown is of the male type), and was worn by those in military service as part of their uniform. Given that the dumpsite is roughly pre-1920, the button must date from the reigns of either Edward VI (1901-1910) or George V (1910-1936), and was made by the famous Firmin & Sons factory, who still make huge numbers of uniform buttons.

It strikes me that, given the close proximity of the button of post-Victoria (1901), with the training bullet of post-1910, one may assume they are related, and thus the button comes from the uniform of a member of the 6th Battalion, Cheshire Regiment.

One can imagine that following the death – pre-WWI – of a member of the regiment (someone senior enough to have ownership of a dummy cartridge – surely not every soldier had one of their own?), these military bits and pieces were thrown away by the family. In all honestly, I’d like to think it was our old friend, the archaeologist and historian, Robert Hamnett, who, as Colour Sergeant, was very active in the regiment, and who died in 1914… but obviously that can never be proven, however much one hopes! I should go back to see if anything else remains, although I’m almost certain we got everything that was worth finding.

As an interesting aside, I actually own, and have shot, a Short Magazine Lee Enfield rifle – the kind that would have shot the bullet discussed. Built in 1917, it saw active service during WWI, and is a much cherished gift that currently lives in Brandon, Mississippi, USA.

My rifle, the No.1 Mk.III Short Magazine Lee Enfield. According to the stamps on the metal, it was made by the Birmingham Small Arms Company in 1917, it saw action on the Western Front, then moved to India where it was used for training, until it was sold as surplus, and moved to America, where it was bought at a gun show in Jackson, Mississippi, and given to me as a gift.

Alas, it would be difficult to import it from America over here as, quite rightly, there are all manner of complicated and expensive legal hoops through which I would have to jump. Maybe one day, but for now, here I am on a rifle range in Mississippi, firing it.

Right, that’s it for now. A short and sweet bit of historical archaeology to lighten your day.

I’ll be back soon for more shenanigans, probably involving pottery! What do you mean, “spare us“? Honestly, some people!

Until then, look after yourselves and each other. And I remain.

Your humble servant,

TCG