The Captain's HQ
Karyn Sparks pins down a globetrotting gent in the appropriately tweedy county of Norfolk and asks him some searching questions.
You just know when you’ve met a kindred spirit. I did.
It happened at a Steampunk fair – good start – and the gent was sporting magnificent whiskers from which a wonderful waft of bergamot and cardamom issued forth. Done deal.
So I’d like to introduce to you our friend Captain Fawcett: a true gent and a quirky kind of soul who, I’m delighted to say, has been a constant presence in the life of VE over the years.
Recently, he took the plunge and kindly extended the hospitality of his manly King’s Lynn HQ to our rather flighty magazine.
True to his motto “keeping a stiff upper lip regardless”, he patiently allowed us too rootle around his emporium-cum-museum. From which he dispatches his delectable gentleman’s grooming requisites to far-flung regions of the world. From the hub of his global operation, we’re delighted to report back that everything there is just as you’d hope it would be. Whether you’re a dapper man, young fogey, hipster or biker, you’d be hard-pushed not to be drawn in by this splendid pad.
His office-cum-museum is filled with period pieces – from roll-top desks, medical cabinets and barber’s chairs to cupboards brimming with all manner of moustache guards, ear caps and razors; ointment bottles, potions and packaging.
There’s also a bit of taxidermy and industrial lighting thrown in, plus an Indian Chief, a traditional till, dial-up phones, clocking-in clock, suitcases and shoe lasts. What’s not to admire?