To Edith and Frank

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today however we are following Lettice’s maid, Edith, who together with her fiancée, local grocery delivery boy Frank Leadbetter, have wended their way north-east from Cavendish Mews on their Sunday off, through neighbouring Soho to the Lyons Corner House* on the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road where they are joining Edith’s parents, George and Ada, Frank’s elderly Scottish grandmother, Mrs. McTavish, Edith’s best friend and fellow maid-of-all-work, Hilda, and Frank’s fellow lodger at his Clapham boarding house, John Simpkin, for a luncheon at George’s expense to celebrate his daughter and Frank’s recent, yet long anticipated, nuptials**. As always, the flagship restaurant on the first floor is a hive of activity with all the white linen covered tables occupied by Londoners indulging in the treat of a Lyon’s luncheon or early afternoon tea. Between the tightly packed tables, the Lyons waitresses, known as Nippies***, live up to their name and nip in and out, showing diners to empty tables, taking orders, placing food on tables and clearing and resetting them after diners have left. The cavernous space with its fashionable Art Deco wallpapers and light fixtures and dark Queen Anne English style furnishing is alive with colour, movement and the burbling noises of hundreds of chattering voices, the sound of cutlery against crockery and the clink of crockery and glassware fills the air brightly.

 

Amidst all the comings and goings, Edith and Frank sit at a table set for seven, on which a fine repast of a selection of freshly cut triangle sandwiches**** and dainty cupcakes decorated with cream cheese***** icing covered in sugar sprinkles has just been placed by two Nippes. Silver plated tea and coffee pots sparkle beneath the overhead pendant lights, whilst the Lyons’ Corner House dinner service crockery glints and the cutlery gleams against the crisp white napery.

 

“I’m sorry this isn’t a lunch at Claridge’s******, Edith love.” George remarks to his daughter who sits beside him in her own high backed Queen Anne style chair. “If I could, you know I would.”

 

“Oh Dad!” Edith laughs happily. She leans over and wraps her right arm around her father and pulls him closer toward her, rewarding him with a kiss on the cheek. “And what would we do there if you could, surrounded by all those wealthy people? We’d stand out like sore thumbs, even in our Sunday best bib and tucker*******!” She smiles at her father reassuringly. “No, a slap up******** lunch here at Lyon’s Corner House is just perfect for Frank and me, thank you, especially since we’ve enjoyed so many lovely times here together as a couple after seeing a picture at the Premier in East Ham********* even before we became affianced. It’s very thoughtful of you, Dad.”

 

“Well, it’s just as well that I can only afford this then.” George replies. “Although I’ll have to start putting some money aside for your wedding breakfast**********. I’m sure Vicar Dunn*********** would let me have the All Souls************ Parish Hall for the occasion”

 

“Plenty of time yet before that.” Edith pats her father’s hand reassuringly. “Frank and I aren’t planning on getting married just yet. Not until we have a bit more money behind us to set up home.”

 

“Clever girl.” George replies with a beaming smile and a snort of pride. “You just keep saving those shillings and sixpences, be abstemious with your spending, and you’ll be richer than Croesus************* in no time.”

 

“Thanks Dad!” Edith replies, releasing her father’s hand and turning back to Frank.

 

Turing his attention to Frank’s Scottish grandmother on his left he remarks, “You know, Mrs. McTavish, you’ve done a fine job of raising your grandson,” He looks across the table over the sandwiches, cupcakes, silverware and Lyon’s bill of fare from its head at Frank as he holds Edith’s hand gently in his and caresses it as they both talk with Ada, sitting at the opposite end of the table.

 

“Och!” Mrs. McTavish says in her broad Scottish brogue with a dismissive sweep of her gnarled hand. “Enough of this ‘Mrs. McTavish’ business! I told Edith that she must call me Gran, just as Francis does, so you must call me Nyree. It’s a pretty name, and it doesn’t get used nearly enough these days. I’m Mrs. McTavish this and Mrs. McTavish that, but never Nyree, and it seems a waste.” She chuckles self-indulgently. “My family were fishing people going back many generations, and Faither************** was a seaman, who sailed to places far beyond the Hebrides*************** where we lived. Not too long before I was born, he came back from what was then the newly formed Colony of New Zealand**************** where he met some of the local islanders who were struck by how blonde his hair was, as they were all swarthy skinned and dark haired.” She chuckles again. “The story he told me when I was no longer a wee bairn, was that they called him ‘Ngaire’, which means ‘flaxen’. Some of his shipmates on the voyage home told him that they named their own blonde daughters Nyree after the name ‘Ngaire’. So, when I was born, I had blonde hair.” She gently pats her carefully set white hair that sweeps out from underneath her old fashioned lace embroidered cap in the style of her youth. “So Faither told Mither*****************that I should be called Nyree. So, Nyree I was christened.”

 

“Yes, George remarks. “I remember you telling Ada and I that story when you came for tea the first time.”

 

“Och!” Mrs. McTavish raises the heel of her careworn hand to her deeply wrinkled forehead and rubs them against one another. “I’m a foolish Cailleach******************! Forgive me! The older I get, the more I forget what I have or haven’t told people.”

 

“Not at all Mrs. McT…” George pauses mid sentence. “Nyree.” He corrects himself. “It was lovely to hear your story again, as it is so interesting. And if I am to call you Nyree, you should call us George and Ada.”

 

“Then George and Ada it shall be!” Mrs. McTavish replies with a smile and a slight nod. “Did I also tell you the Minister of Word and Sacrament******************* at our village chapel didn’t favour christening me Nyree?”

 

“No, you didn’t, Nyree.”

 

“Och yes! He wanted to christen me Nóra. He said Nyree was a heathen name, but Faither and Mither were strong people, and took no nonsense from the Minister. Nyree was the name they had chosen, and Nyree was what I was christened.”

 

“That’s fascinating Nyree.” George remarks, shaking his head in mild astonishment.

 

“And as for my wee bairn, Francis, well, I can’t take all the credit for him. His parents, God rest their souls, did a splendid job with him before they were taken by Spanish Influenza. I only helped finish off the job they started. You must be proud of your wee Edith too, and how she turned out – level headed, modest and polite.”

 

“Oh we are, Nyree, although with the lack of young men due to the war, we did wonder if she would ever meet a fellow to marry, even with her pretty face and pleasant temperament.”

 

“Och yes, George! Such a shame!” Mrs. McTavish agrees. “A waste of so many lives, that war! I still don’t quite know why we went to war in the first place.”

 

“You wouldn’t be alone in that thought, Nyree. I think a lot of us are asking the same question in its aftermath.”

 

Mrs. McTavish tuts and shakes her head sorrowfully. “There are so many young war widows about nowadays. I’m glad that Francis and Edith found one another. They make a nice pair, George.”

 

“Indeed they do, Nyree.”

 

“And Francis needs a good sensible lass to keep his ideas in check.” Mrs. McTavish adds with a serious look at George. “We don’t want him getting too big for his britches to not know his place.”

 

“You sound like my wife, Nyree.” George chuckles sadly. “She was a bit hesitant about his more revolutionary ideas about the working man and his rights.”

 

“Well, I worry a bit about his ideas sometimes too, if I’m honest, George. He’s a dreamer, not a realist.” Mrs. McTavish confides in George quietly. “I don’t know if I like the sound of all these Trade Union friends of his, filling his head with the rights of the working man. I like young John Simpkin.” She nods over the vase of red roses sitting in the centre of the table to Frank’s photographer friend who helped orchestrate the surprise proposal by allowing Frank to use a portrait photography session in the photography salon in Clapham Junction where he works as a ruse, sitting next to Hilda. “He’s a realist. He just gets on with the job, doesn’t complain, and look, he’s now a junior photographer at the studio where he started. Frank lives with young John at his boarding house, you know.”

 

“Yes, I believe we have Mr. Simpkin to thank for arranging the venue for young Frank’s proposal.”

 

“Indeed, we do, George.”

 

“I must confess that I am more on young Frank’s side than perhaps you and Ada are, Nyree, when it comes to this Trade Unions and workers’ rights business. I keep reading in the newspaper about the plight of the poor miners. It seems to me that it is jolly rotten of the mine owners to reduce the miners' wages and lengthen their working hours. There’s nothing fair about that!”

 

“And that is why you need an Ada, dear George.” Mrs. McTavish says as she settles back in her seat. “And Francis needs an Edith. She’ll keep his head level, and stop him from getting into any serious trouble.”

 

“With the Stanley Baldwin’s Government******************** starting to get getting involved with discussions with the Trade Unions about it, I think this may become something we all impacted by sooner rather than later, trouble or not.”

 

“I don’t see why, George, after all, you’re a factory worker, and I make lace for frock shops in London’s West End. It’s not like either of us are miners.”

 

“Well,” George mutters with a shake of his head as he clears his throat a little awkwardly. “This probably isn’t fit table conversation for this little party today. We aren’t here to talk about the plight of miners, or politics. Today is about Frank and Edith.”

 

At the other end of the table, Ada speaks animatedly to Edith and Frank. “That was a really lovely gesture of your grandmother to offer you your parents’ wedding rings, Frank love.”

 

“Oh, it was a very emotional moment for both of us, Mrs. Watsfo… I mean Ada. Wasn’t it, Edith?” Frank looks at his fiancée.

 

“Yes it was, Mum! I can hardly believe it! What an honour Gran has bestowed on us.”

 

“Well, we shall have to get cracking on your wedding frock, Edith.” Ada adds brightly. “Luckily, I had my pin money********************* with me the day I saw that remnant bolt of cream crêpe de chiné in the basket outside Bishops in the High Street. I always knew you would get married one day, my girl.”

 

“Well, I want to go shopping at Mrs. Minkin’s for trims, Mum.” Edith insists. “I’ll get them cheaper from her than you or I ever will at Mr. Bishops’ haberdashery. Not that there’s any rush to make my frock yet. Fashions change, and we’re not getting wed yet, are we Frank?”

 

“Not yet Edith.” Frank turns his attention to his fiancée before returning them to Ada. “We want to keep saving for a bit longer yet, so we can set up a proper home.”

 

“That’s very wise, Frank.” Ada says with a benevolent smile.

 

“So, I don’t want your crêpe de chine getting wasted making something now that will only fall out of fashion, Mum.” Edith adds. “We’ll make my frock closer to the time, when it comes.”

 

“And you’re following your own advice then, Edith love?” Ada asks.

 

“What advice, Edith?” Frank queries.

 

“Oh,” Edith explains. “Mum agrees with us when we said that I probably shouldn’t tell Miss Lettice that we’re engaged just yet. Not until we settle on a date at least, Frank.”

 

“I’m sure as a good employer, Miss Lettice would be understanding of Edith wanting to work up until you’re both wed, but,” Ada sniffs with distain. “Well, I’ve known people like her. We all do. They can be fickle.”

 

“I’m glad you agree with us, Ada.” Frank smiles. “I know you have more respect for the upper classes than I do, but I really do believe that in spite of being a progressive employer, she might dismiss you Edith and then just employ another maid-of-all-work.”

 

“I still don’t think she would, Frank, and I’ve told Mum the same, but I’m still keeping it a secret just in case.”

 

“There are plenty of girls from down your Mrs. Boothby’s way that would give their eye teeth for a job as a maid-of-all-work, Edith love,” Ada cautions. “So it’s best to be discreet.”

 

“Oh, thinking of discreet, Mrs… err… Ada,” Frank adds. “Although she hasn’t said anything outright about it, I think Gran would like to make Edith’s wedding veil.”

 

“Would she now?” Ada asks in delighted surprise, her eyes gleaming.

 

“Did she really Frank?” Edith gasps.

 

“Well, Edith, like I said, she didn’t say it directly as such, but I think in her heart of hearts she does. I think she might ask to see you on your own soon, and ask you once she’s built up the courage.”

 

“Well, I think that’s very generous of her, Frank love, but it’s your wedding veil, Edith love. How would you feel about Mrs, McTavish making your veil if she offers?”

 

“Oh Mum! Frank! I’d love that!” Edith enthuses with clasped hands. “It would be so special! You should see her work, Mum! It’s so fine! No wonder she sells to the likes of the fine frock shops she does! I’m quite sure she would sell lace to Miss Lettice’s friend, Mr. Bruton the frock maker.”

 

“Well, I’ve no objection, if Edith doesn’t.” Ada replies. “Edith and I can make her frock together when the time comes.”

 

Across from Edith and Frank, Hilda and John sit in quiet and slightly uncomfortable silence, unsure of each other’s company, as they listen to the conversations carry on noisily around them.

 

At length, John clears his throat awkwardly and asks Hilda, “So… you’re going to be Miss Watsford’s maid-of-honour then, Miss Clerkenwell?”

 

“I am, Mr. Simpkin.” Hilda replies primly as she places her hands neatly over one another in front of her, clutching the edge of the table. “And you’re going to be Frank’s best man, I believe.”

 

“I am.” John says proudly, sitting up a little more straightly in his seat. “Have you ever been a maid-of-honour before, Miss Clerkenwell?”

 

“No, I can’t say I have,” Hilda answers with a ticklish chuckle and a tight smile, looking down into her lap as she removes her hands from the table’s edge and squeezes her napkin in her lap between her fingers. “But then again, you know what they say in that Listerine********************** advertisement in the newspapers.”

 

“No, I… I can’t say that I do,” John replies with an awkward shrug. “What does it say?”

 

“Well,” Hilda says with a heavy sigh. “It has a woman in it who is constantly a bridesmaid but never the bride, because of her bad breath, you see. The slogan goes, ‘Often a bridesmaid, never a bride’***********************.” Hilda laughs nervously again.

 

“You don’t have halitosis, Miss Clerkenwell.” John says with a timid smile.

 

“Well, thank you, Mr. Simpkin.” Hilda replies quickly, glancing away so that he can’t see the flush of colour in her cheeks.

 

“So, I know you work as a maid-of-all work for one of Edith’s employer’s friends, but tell me, what is it that do you do, for fun, Miss Clerkenwell?” John asks politely. “I… I err… would imagine that you are always off dancing at the Hammersmith Palais************************ on your days off.”

 

“No, I wouldn’t say I was always off at the Hammersmith Palais, Mr. Simpkin - only when Edith and Frank ask me, really. I’m not very good on my feet like that. I feel rather like a gooseberry************************* if I’m being honest, not that I would ever admit that to either of them, Mr. Simpkin, so I’d be much obliged if you kept that confidence to yourself. I know they are just being kind to me.”

 

“Of course, Miss Clerkenwell.” John assures Hilda. “So, if dancing at the Hammersmith Palais isn’t really your thing, what do you enjoy doing, then?”

 

“Oh, you don’t want to know, Mr. Simpkin. I know you are just being kind too.” Hilda says dismissively.

 

“No, I really would like to know, Miss Clerkenwell.” John insists.

 

“It’s not exciting. I’m just a bluestocking************************** at heart.”

 

At first John doesn’t reply. Then, releasing a pent-up breath from deep within his chest he admits, “Well, working as a photographer, I am not really a dancing chap either.” He then adds, “Nor sporting. I’m probably not exciting either, which explains why no girl is particularly interested in me.”

 

“So, what do you enjoy doing then, Mr. Simpkin?”

 

John sucks in a large intake of breath and then exhales. “Well, I read a good deal, and I study books on art and composition to help improve my photographic skills.”

 

“Do you ever go to the National Gallery***************************?” Hilda queries.

 

“Sometimes. I like looking at paintings, and learning about composition from them.”

 

Hilda nods approvingly. “And the British Museum****************************?”

 

“Oh yes, I quite like the British Museum. It has some fascinating exhibitions.”

 

“I like it there too.” Hilda remarks, fining herself smiling at John.

 

“Ahem!”

 

The sound of George clearing his throat interrupts them, and everyone else around the table who stop mid conversation.

 

George gets to his feet, a teacup in his right hand. “I’m… err… I not very comfortable giving speeches,” he begins.

 

“You could have fooled me, Dad!” Edith jeers jokingly, causing everyone at the table including George to laugh.

 

“But I suppose as father of the bride-to-be, I had better brush up on my oratory skills.” He clears his throat again, awkwardly. “I was just saying to our dear Edith that this isn’t Clarridges, and I know,” He hoists his teacup. “That this isn’t champagne, but for today, I think Lyon’s Corner House and tea will work quite nicely, since the young couple have been here so many times after going to the pictures. Now, as I said, I’m not very comfortable giving speeches, so I’ll keep this brief. So let me just say to Frank, that Ada and I welcome you into the family, and we couldn’t think of a better man to make our Edith happy. And to you Edith, love, your mum and I are so glad that you have found a young man that pleases you so well that you want to spend the rest of your days with him. We couldn’t be happier. So, may I ask you all to raise your glass or cup, and let us toast Edith and Frank. To Edith and Frank!”

 

The remainder of the company raise their cups and say as one, “To Edith and Frank!”

 

*J. Lyons and Co. was a British restaurant chain, food manufacturing, and hotel conglomerate founded in 1884 by Joseph Lyons and his brothers in law, Isidore and Montague Gluckstein. Lyons’ first teashop opened in Piccadilly in 1894, and from 1909 they developed into a chain of teashops, with the firm becoming a staple of the High Street in the United Kingdom. At its peak the chain numbered around two hundred cafes. The teashops provided for tea and coffee, with food choices consisting of hot dishes and sweets, cold dishes and sweets, and buns, cakes and rolls. Lyons' Corner Houses, which first appeared in 1909 and remained until 1977, were noted for their Art Deco style. Situated on or near the corners of Coventry Street, Strand and Tottenham Court Road, they and the Maison Lyonses at Marble Arch and in Shaftesbury Avenue were large buildings on four or five floors, the ground floor of which was a food hall with counters for delicatessen, sweets and chocolates, cakes, fruit, flowers and other products. In addition, they possessed hairdressing salons, telephone booths, theatre booking agencies and at one period a twice-a-day food delivery service. On the other floors were several restaurants, each with a different theme and all with their own musicians. For a time, the Corner Houses were open twenty-four hours a day, and at their peak each branch employed around four hundred staff including their famous waitresses, commonly known as Nippies for the way they nipped in and out between the tables taking orders and serving meals. The tea houses featured window displays, and, in the post-war period, the Corner Houses were smarter and grander than the local tea shops. Between 1896 and 1965 Lyons owned the Trocadero, which was similar in size and style to the Corner Houses.

 

** Nuptials is a alternative word for marriage. The term “nuptials” emphasizes the ceremonial and legal aspects of a marriage, lending a more formal tone to wedding communications and documentation.

 

***The name 'Nippies' was adopted for the Lyons waitresses after a competition to rename them from the old fashioned 'Gladys' moniker - rejected suggestions included ‘Sybil-at-your-service’, ‘Miss Nimble’, Miss Natty’ and 'Speedwell'. The waitresses each wore a starched cap with a red ‘L’ embroidered in the centre and a black alpaca dress with a double row of pearl buttons.

 

****Sandwiches cut into four triangular quarters are commonly called triangle sandwiches in Britain, especially for parties or afternoon teas. Elsewhere in the world they are commonly referred to as a "club sandwich cut" or simply "quarter cut". This method is frequently used for club sandwiches to make them more stable.

 

*****Cream cheese was invented in 1872 by William Lawrence, a dairyman in Chester, New York, who accidentally created a richer, creamier version of the French cheese Neufchâtel. The brand name "Philadelphia Cream Cheese" was adopted in 1880 as a marketing strategy to associate the new cheese with the high-quality dairy reputation of Philadelphia.

 

******Claridge's traces its origins to Mivart's Hotel, which was founded in 1812 in a conventional London terraced house and grew by expanding into neighbouring houses. In 1854, the founder (the father of biologist St. George Jackson Mivart) sold the hotel to William and Marianne Claridge, who owned a smaller hotel next door. They combined the two operations, and after trading for a time as "Mivart's late Claridge's", they settled on the current name. The reputation of the hotel was confirmed in 1860, when Empress Eugenie made an extended visit and entertained Queen Victoria at the hotel. In its first edition of 1878, Baedeker's London listed Claridge's as "The first hotel in London". Richard D'Oyly Carte, the theatrical impresario and founder of the rival Savoy Hotel, purchased Claridge's in 1893, as part of The Savoy Group, and shortly afterwards demolished the old buildings and replaced them with the present ones. This was prompted by the need to install modern facilities such as lifts and en suite bathrooms. From 1894 to 1901, Édouard Nignon was the hotel chef. The new Claridge's, built by George Trollope and Sons, opened in 1898. After the First World War, Claridge's flourished due to demand from aristocrats who no longer maintained a London house, and under the leadership of Carte's son, Rupert D'Oyly Carte, an extension was built in the 1920s. During the Second World War, it was the base of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia's government in exile and home of Peter II of Yugoslavia.

 

*******"Bib and tucker" refers to one's best clothes or a formal outfit, especially when used in the phrase "best bib and tucker". The term originated from obsolete clothing items—a "bib" being the front of a shirt or apron, and a "tucker" being a decorative lace piece worn at the neckline.

 

********A "slap-up meal" is a British informal term for a large, excellent, and very good meal. It refers to a lavish, hearty, and enjoyable feast, such as a celebratory dinner or a large lunch.

 

*********The Premier Super Cinema in East Ham was opened on the 12th of March, 1921, replacing the 800 seat capacity 1912 Premier Electric Theatre. The new cinema could seat 2,408 patrons. The Premier Super Cinema was taken over by Provincial Cinematograph Theatres who were taken over by Gaumont British in February 1929. It was renamed the Gaumont from 21st April 1952. The Gaumont was closed by the Rank Organisation on 6th April 1963. After that it became a bingo hall and remained so until 2005. Despite attempts to have it listed as a historic building due to its relatively intact 1921 interior, the Gaumont was demolished in 2009.

 

**********A wedding breakfast is a feast given to the newlyweds and guests after the wedding, making it equivalent to a wedding reception that serves a meal. The phrase is still used in British English, as opposed to the description of reception, which is American in derivation. Before the beginning of the Twentieth Century they were traditionally held in the morning, but this fashion began to change after the Great War when they became a luncheon. Regardless of when it was, a wedding breakfast in no way looked like a typical breakfast, with fine savoury food and sweet cakes being served. Wedding breakfasts were at their most lavish in the Edwardian era through to the Second World War.

 

***********The vicar of All Souls Parish Church in Harlesden between 1918 and 1927 was Ernest Arnold Dunn.

 

************The parish of All Souls, Harlesden, was formed in 1875 from Willesden, Acton, St John's, Kensal Green, and Hammersmith. Mission services had been held by the curate of St Mary's, Willesden, at Harlesden institute from 1858. The parish church at Station Road, Harlesden, was built and consecrated in 1879. The town centre church is a remarkable brick octagon designed by E.J. Tarver. Originally there was a nave which was extended in 1890 but demolished in 1970.

 

*************The idiom “richer than Croesus” means very wealthy. This term alludes to Croesus, the legendary King of Lydia and supposedly the richest man on earth. The simile was first recorded in English in 1577.

 

**************Faither is an old fashioned Scottish word for father.

 

***************The Hebrides is an archipelago comprising hundreds of islands off the northwest coast of Scotland. Divided into the Inner and Outer Hebrides groups, they are home to rugged landscapes, fishing villages and remote Gaelic-speaking communities.

 

****************What we know today as New Zealand was once the Colony of New Zealand. It was a Crown colony of the British Empire that encompassed the islands of New Zealand from 1841 to 1907. The power of the British Government was vested in the governor of New Zealand. The colony had three successive capitals: Okiato (or Old Russell) in 1841; Auckland from 1841 to 1865; and Wellington, which became the capital during the colony's reorganisation into a Dominion, and continues as the capital of New Zealand today. During the early years of British settlement, the governor had wide-ranging powers. The colony was granted self-government with the passage of the New Zealand Constitution Act 1852. The first parliament was elected in 1853, and responsible government was established in 1856. The governor was required to act on the advice of his ministers, who were responsible to the parliament. In 1907, the colony became the Dominion of New Zealand, which heralded a more explicit recognition of self-government within the British Empire.

 

*****************Mither is an old fashioned Scottish word for mother.

 

******************Cailleach ('old woman' or more unkindly 'hag' in modern Irish and Scottish Gaelic) comes from the Old Irish Caillech ('veiled one'), an adjectival form of caille ('veil'), an early loan from Latin pallium, 'woollen cloak'. The Cailleach is often referred to as the Cailleach Bhéarra in Irish and Cailleach Bheurra in Scottish Gaelic.

 

*******************A minister in the Scottish Primitive Church is called a Minister of Word and Sacrament. This is because the Scottish church is Presbyterian, and ministers, along with elected elders, form the governing councils (or "courts") that oversee the church.

 

********************In November 1925, when this story is set, the Conservative Party was in power in Britain, with Stanley Baldwin serving as Prime Minister. His party had returned to power following a decisive victory in the October 1924 general election, which saw the defeat of the short-lived minority Labour government led by Ramsay MacDonald.

 

*********************Originating in Seventeenth Century England, the term pin money first meant “an allowance of money given by a husband to his wife for her personal expenditures. Married women, who typically lacked other sources of spending money, tended to view an allowance as something quite desirable. By the Twentieth Century, the term had come to mean a small sum of money, whether an allowance or earned, for spending on inessentials, separate and in addition to the housekeeping money a wife might have to spend.

 

**********************Whilst Listerine was created in the United Staties in 1879, it was first sold in England in the 1920s. Its introduction into the British market was driven by a new advertising campaign that focused on promoting the product as a solution for "halitosis," or bad breath, which helped establish the mouthwash market in the country. The campaigns for Listerine and Listermint led to a "dramatic growth in the UK mouthwash market" in the 1970s, demonstrating the power of advertising in changing consumer behaviour.

 

***********************The saying, “aways the bridesmaid never the bride” originated from a 1925 Listerine mouthwash advertising campaign, which used the slogan "Often a bridesmaid, never a bride" to imply that bad breath could hinder a woman's chances of getting married. This slogan was a commercial success and became a widely used saying, evolving from its earlier form which was popularised by a 1920s song called "Why am I always the Bridesmaid?" written by Fred W. Leigh in 1917. The phrase later evolved into the current version, "always a bridesmaid, never a bride".

 

************************The Hammersmith Palais de Danse, in its last years simply named Hammersmith Palais, was a dance hall and entertainment venue in Hammersmith, London, England that operated from 1919 until 2007. It was the first palais de danse to be built in Britain.

 

*************************To be a "gooseberry" means to be an unwanted third person, a "third wheel," accompanying a couple who wants to be alone. You feel like a gooseberry when you are in a romantic situation but are not part of the romantic relationship, often feeling awkward or out of place. The phrase "feeling like a gooseberry" originated from the British slang term "to play gooseberry," which emerged in the Nineteenth Century. Initially, it referred to a chaperone who facilitated a romantic couple's outing, though the meaning shifted over time to describe a third person who is present when a couple wants to be alone, often feeling like a superfluous or unwanted guest. The original sense likely stemmed from the chaperone's pretext for accompanying the couple, such as pretending to pick gooseberries while allowing the pair to be alone.

 

**************************A bluestocking woman is an intellectual or literary woman, a term that originated from the Eighteenth Century Blue Stockings Society in England, which promoted literary and intellectual discussions. The term was initially used for both men and women who attended these meetings, but it came to specifically denote women with a passion for learning and writing. While used negatively in the aftermath of the First World War in the 1920s when there was a surfeit of unmarried young women and few men to marry, to imply being overly scholarly or unfeminine, the term bluestocking is now more broadly applied in the way it was originally intended, to women with strong literary or intellectual interests.

 

***************************The National Gallery is an art museum in Trafalgar Square in London, housing one of the world's greatest collections of Western European paintings from the late Thirteenth Century to the Twentieth Century. It was founded in 1824 and opened to the public on May the 10th of that year. Its first home was in the former townhouse of banker John Julius Angerstein on Pall Mall, which was acquired by the government along with thirty-eight of Angerstein's paintings which formed the basis of the original collection. It later moved to its current location in Trafalgar Square, with the new building opening in 1838.

 

****************************The British Museum is a public museum dedicated to human history, art and culture located in the Bloomsbury area of London. Its permanent collection of eight million works is the largest in the world. It documents the story of human culture from its beginnings to the present. Established in 1753, the British Museum was the first public national museum.

 

An afternoon tea made up with tea and a selection of triangle sandwiches and cupcakes like this would be enough to please anyone, but I suspect that even if you ate everything you can see here on the table in and in the display case in the background, you would still come away hungry. This is because they, like everything in this scene are 1:12 size miniatures from my miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau:

 

The gilt tray of tomato, ham, cheese and cucumber sandwiches and the cream and sprinkle covered cupcakes have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Frances Knight’s work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.

 

The coffee pot with its ornate handle and engraved body is one of three antique Colonial Craftsman pots I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom, as is the silver tray on which they stand. The silver teapot milk jug and sugar bowl are made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The Lyons Corner House crockery is made by the Dolls’ House emporium and was acquired from an online stockist of miniatures on E-Bay. The J. Lyons & Co. Ltd. tariff in the foreground is a copy of a 1920s example that I made myself by reducing it in size and printing it.

 

The table on which all these items stand is a Queen Anne lamp table which I was given for my seventh birthday. It is one of the very first miniature pieces of furniture I was ever given as a child. The Queen Anne dining chairs were all given to me as a Christmas present when I was around the same age.

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