The early days

I cut my modelling teeth, so to speak, with none other than Sidebottom (minor) of the legendary Sidebottom, Melchet & Sidebottom.

As you could probably imagine, it was truly a batptism of fire, a rare privilege and the best possible start an impressionable teenage model-maker could wish for, although it wasn’t without its hardships.

My first day at the Sidebottom, Melchet & Sidebottom “nerve centre” – a sprawling former aircraft hangar in the Staffordshire Moorlands – is one I will never forget.

The exact location remains a secret to this day to all but a select few due to the sensitive nature of some of the work they do for the security services. I myself was transported in blindfold within a blacked out transit van, along with every other employee, for the entire five-year apprenticeship I served with the illustrious trio.

On that first day I ended up helping Sidebottom (major) and Melchet themselves to complete a particularly tricky church spire for a scale model of the south-east quarter of the centre of Wem.

If I felt I was on “cloud 9” after that first day then I was brought down to earth with a bump every day for the next five years. The quality of work was amazing – Sidebottom, Melchet & Sidebottom still set benchmarks the rest of the model-making world aspire to – but Sidebottom (minor) lived up to his reputation for being a difficult man to work with.

He didn’t speak to me at all for the first six months of my internship, I was merely expected to watch, learn and understand.

When he did finally speak directly to me, his first words were: “If you were a woman, you wouldn’t be allowed within 50 feet of here. I’d either have you imprisoned or would take you as another wife. Are you a woman?”

I took the unorthodox question as a test – but Sidebottom (major) suggested it had more to do with bottle of cognac his younger sibling had consumed for breakfast.

We rarely “conversed” in the conventional sense throughout my five years with the company and Sidebottom (minor) invariably called me “Woman” rather than by my name. But I eventually emerged an experienced and accomplished model-maker in my own right – I had all the big names in the industry (Badger & Titley; the Bushy sisters; Frobisher) clamouring to employ me.

I chose the smaller Felching & Frogatt as I knew the opportunity to express myself would be greater.

On my final day at Sidebottom, Melchet & Sidebottom I finally received what I considered to be respect from Sidebottom (minor).

“You are a passable model-maker and you leave here armed with the knowledge, tools, wit and wisdom to do a decent and honest day’s work.”

They are words I will remember for the rest of my life. There were more words from Sidebottom (minor) that day, more in the final five minutes before I headed to the blacked out transit van than I’d heard in five years. But most was incoherent babbling brought on by another breakfast of cognac and corn-based snackage. The last words I heard my mentor and hero say before his elder brother bundled him away were: “If it doesn’t work out you could always find yourself a decent man, get married and become a housewife.”

I prefer to dwell on the “You are a passable model-maker…” tribute than those final words.

The irony is, however, that within days I did actually meet the person I would marry just six months after leaving Sidebottom, Melchet & Sidebottom and starting work at Felching & Froggatt – the future Mrs Belm, obviously, not a man.

I remained at the behest of Felching primarily for the next seven years (Froggatt was more of a silent partner at that stage due to failing eye-sight and an industrial accident that had robbed him of the tips of four fingers and six toes).

During that time we completed projects that earned national and international recognition – the Arbroath harbour model and the recreation of the Winter of Discontent in miniature being two of the most famous.

Armed with this experience, plus my apprenticeship at Sidebottom, Melchet & Sidebottom, I took the brave decision to branch out on my own in 1994 and form my own business.

Belm & Sons was something of an instant hit and we have gone from strength to strength.

I did receive a congratulatory note from Sidebottom (minor) on the 10th anniversary of Belm & Son. It stated: “I never thought a woman would cut the mustard as a model-maker. But, Mr Belm, you have proved me wrong.”

That note has pride of place in my workshop.

A confused and confusing man though he is, I owe Sidebottom (minor) a huge debt of thanks and without him I would not have been able to take my place in the model-makers hall of fame (inductee 2002).