I’ve just been off to visit my mother in the delightful, picturesque English village of Wollaston. It’s a nice enough place, I guess, but it scares me a little: I’m sure if you scratched the surface you’d find a veritable hot-bed of wife-swapping splosh parties and Daily Mail-inspired nimbyism. My mother runs the local museum (it’s a voluntary role), which is an interesting place because it contains all sorts of weird-looking stuff. Traditionally, local industries in the village have been shoemaking (Dr Martens boots first rolled off the UK production line here in 1960) and agriculture, and many of the items in the museum are strange looking tools that, at first glance, appear to be instruments of medieval torture rather than something you’d use during the dayjob. There’s a couple of items she’s been unable to identify, so I’m posting pictures here in the hope that some kind blogjam reader will be able to diagnose their use.