Isn’t it amazing how certain smells can whisk you back through decades of memory? This week I visited the mighty Salts Mill near Bradford and as soon as I walked into the vast mill, which amongst other things houses a selection of David Hockney’s work, I was reminded of my childhood. Not that I was sent to work in the mill as child – I’m not THAT old. I used to visit my dad at work as a weaving overlooker in the mills of the Heavy Woollen District. The smell of those great, rumbling, well-oiled machines and endless miles of cloth lingers at Salts Mill despite there being little production in this section of the massive complex for many years. It’s probably a strange welcome for any middle-class arty types seeking a Hockney experience and who have never previously set foot in a mill. But they cannot fail to be impressed with such impressive architecture on such a great scale. Titus Salt was certainly a man of vision and the more I walk around his mill and village, the more admiration I have for him.