Fruit Mince Pies for Christmas Day

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 northwest of Lettice’s flat, in the working-class London suburb of Harlesden where Edith, Lettice’s maid, and her best friend and fellow maid-of-all-work, Hilda are visiting Edith’s beloved parent for a few hours on their Wednesday afternoon off before going on to catch a late afternoon showing of ‘The Scarlet Woman’* at the nearby Willesden Hippodrome**. Like Edith, Hilda works as a live-in maid and resides just around the corner from Cavendish Mews, in nearby Hill Street. She works for Lettice’s married friends, Margot and Dickie Channon. However, Edith and Hilda met one another at their previous employer, Mrs. Plaistow’s, Pimlico townhouse where the two shared a cold and uncomfortable attic bedroom. In spite of the fact that they are both working for different people now, the girls remain the very best of friends, and catch up frequently. Edith’s father, George, works at the McVitie and Price biscuit factory in Harlesden as a Line Manager, and her mother, Ada, takes in laundry at home. They live in a small, two storey brick terrace house which opens out directly onto the street, and is far removed from the grandeur of Lettice’s Mayfair flat, but has always been a cosy and welcoming home for Edith and her younger brother Bert, as well as any number of their friends, including Hilda.

 

We find ourselves in the heart of the Watsford’s family home, Ada’s cosy kitchen at the back of the terrace. Ada is holding court, standing at her worn round kitchen table as she gives Hilda another impromptu lesson in Christmas baking as she rolls out some pale sweet shortcrust pastry with her trusty old wooden rolling pin which had belonged to her mother before her. Her daughter and Hilda sit at the table on tall ladderback chairs to either side of her, watching Ada as she takes up a flour dusted fluted metal biscuit cutter and sinks it with ease into the rolled out pastry, cutting out a dainty pastry case. Removing the cutter and leaving it lightly sitting atop the rolled out, but as of yet uncut pastry, she picks up the casing gently in her floured fingers and places it in the final empty space in her patty pan***.

 

“And there you have it, Hilda,” Ada says with a satisfied sigh. “The perfect pastry casing for a perfect fruit mince pie!”

 

“The perfect fruit mince pie will be the one I can eat right now.” George mutters from behind his newspaper as he sits by the hearth in the comfort of his Windsor chair.

 

“You aren’t having a one of these fruit mince pies until Christmas Day, George!” Ada quips. “And that’s a fact.”

 

“Oh Mrs. W.!” Hilda gasps. “You make it all look so simple!”

 

“After you’ve made a few batches, it will be as easy for you as it is for me, Hilda love.” Ada assures the young maid.

 

“Do you really think so, Mrs. W.?” Hilda asks with wide eyes.

 

“Course I do, Hilda love.” Ada goes on.

 

“It’s true, Hilda,” Edith adds from her chair. “The more you practice, the better you’ll get, just like Mum. I was the same as you once.”

 

“You’ve never been hopeless at cooking, Edith.” Hilda mutters disparagingly.

 

“You aren’t hopeless at cooking either, Hilda!” Edith exclaims, standing up and reaching across the table, clasping her best friend’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve improved so much with a bit of help from me, some instruction from Mum,” She nods at her mother and smiles gratefully. “And practice.” Letting go of her friend’s hand, she resumes her seat. “No, I meant I was nervous like you are now.” She sighs as she sees Hilda’s face crumple up, betraying how nervous she really is. “But once I had baked a few different things, made a few mistakes in the process, and learned from them, I became much more comfortable.”

 

“We all have to make mistakes, Hilda love.” Ada remarks. “Like Edith says, you have to make mistakes so you can learn from them.”

 

George snorts loudly and chuckles behind his copy of the Daily Express.

 

“And what are you chortling about, George Watsford?” Ada asks, casting an askance glance at her husband.

 

“Nothing Ada love,” he replies, still chuckling from behind the newspaper sheets which he ruffles noisily to try and cover his amusement. “Just something Rupert Bear**** is up to.”

 

“Oh no you aren’t Dad!” Edith giggles. “You’re well past page seven*****.”

 

“George?” Ada queries warily whilst Hilda glances anxiously between Ada’s clouding face and the open Daily Express broadsheet behind which George hides.

 

Finally the paper lowers and George’s beaming face, red with holding in his laughter appears. Glancing out at his wife, his daughter and her best friend, he admits, “Well, I was actually thinking about your biggest baking disaster, Ada love.”

 

“Oh, not that story again, Dad!” Edith groans. “We all know the story of how before you and Mum were married, but were stepping out together, at the Easter Sunday Picnic organised by the Vicar of All Souls******, everyone got a hot cross bun because Mum was being a good Christian soul and handed them out, except for you because she’d given them to everyone else.”

 

Ada blushes with embarrassment as she is reminded of a piece of her own history that she would rather her daughter didn’t know about.

 

“It’s true Mr. W.,” Hilda remarks, leaning on the top worn rung of the back of the ladderback chair she is sitting in as she looks at Edith’s father. “Even I’ve heard it from Edith.”

 

“Oh, that wasn’t the story I was thinking of!” George chuckles, before openly laughing aloud, his noisy guffaws filling the tiny Harlesden terrace house kitchen.

 

“George!” Ada says warningly in a low voice. “What are you going to tell our daughter and her friend? Am I going to like it?”

 

“Oh!” George wipes tears of mirth from his cheeks. “I doubt it, Ada love, but I think it’s worth taking the rap******* to retell it.” He bursts into a new barrage of wheezing laughter that make him breathless.

 

“Well come on then, Dad!” Edith exclaims. “Tell us!”

 

“Don’t encourage your dad, Edith love!” Ada chides her daughter mildly. Turning her attention back to her red-faced husband she adds, “He doesn’t need any help from anyone in that department.” She eyeballs him.

 

“When your mum and I were courting, Edith love,” George finally begins after taking a gulp of tea from his dainty floral Colclough******** teacup, one of Ada’s porcelain treasures found at a flea market*********. “She thought to curry favour she’d best make a nice teacake for my mum, since she was hoping to to become her future daughter-in-law by marrying me.”

 

“I keep telling you George,” Ada protests. “It was only because of my Mum’s blue and white Delftware cannisters. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

 

“What didn’t you do on purpose, Mum?” Edith asks excitedly.

 

“Never you mind, Edith love!” Ada answers quickly.

 

“What happened, Mr. W.?” Hilda giggles, her eyes agog as she hangs on the older man’s every word.

 

“So, she made a lovely apple teacake. Well,” George adds as an afterthought. “It looked lovely.”

 

“What do you mean, looked lovely?” Edith asks. “Didn’t it taste nice? We’ve had Mum’s apple teacake plenty of times over the years and it is always scrumptious.”

 

“Well,” George laughs, again wiping the tears of joviality from the corners of his eyes and his deep set wrinkles around them. “This one certainly wasn’t! You see, Edith love, your Mum had put in a cup of salt, rather than a cup of sugar into the batter! You should have seen Granny Watsford’s face when she ate her first mouthful! Her mouth nearly imploded whilst her eyes practically burst from their sockets! It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen!”

 

George breaks into uncontrollable laughter, which is soon joined by that of his daughter and her friend as they all laugh loudly at the story.

 

“I told you, George,” Ada defends herself, blushing red as she looks at the trio laughing around her, before breaking into a good natured chuckle of her own as she remembers her then future mother-in-law’s alarmed face as she sat ramrod stiff in her old Victorian button back********** upholstered chair, one of two now in Ada and George’s front parlour, and chewed slowly on the cake, before swallowing it awkwardly. “All Mum’s cannisters were all the same size and unmarked. It’s why I make sure that I keep our sugar in that tin cannister, and I keep the salt in a glass jar.”

 

“Oh Mum!” Edith laughs, wiping her own eyes which now stream with jovial tears. “That’s awful.”

 

“What was worse was that your Granny ate the whole mouthful and swallowed it, of politeness and deference to your Mum, Edith love.” George goes on. “She liked her you see, and she didn’t want to offend her! Once she’d finished her mouthful, she just quietly put her plate aside, arose, and excused herself with as much dignity as she could muster, asking your Mum to join her in the scullery with a hoarse voice.”

 

“Did you all try the cake too, Mr. W.?” Hilda asks.

 

“Heavens no, Hilda love! We’d all figured out from my Mum’s reaction that there was something very, very wrong with the cake. None of us were game to try it!”

 

“Shouldn’t you be heading back to work after tea, George?” Ada asks, folding her arms akimbo and looking meaningfully at her husband. “I’m sure I can hear the Christmas biscuits selection calling you.”

 

“Oh! Oh alright, Ada love.” George gasps as he recovers his breath from all his laughter. “Looks like I’m being banished, girls, so I’ll say my goodbyes to you both.” He puts his newspaper aside, gets up from his seat and walks over to the pegs by the door leading from the kitchen to the scullery, where his coat, hat and scarf hang.

 

“Be grateful I let you back into the house after your shift, George Wastford!” Ada mutters, but the glint in her eye and the gentle upturn in the corners of her mouth betray the fact that she isn’t really cross with her husband for sharing her story.

 

“You wouldn’t do that to me, Ada love.” George remarks, wrapping his knitted scarf tightly around his neck before shucking on his coat.

 

“Tell too many tales like that about me, and you might push your luck.” Ada replies, cocking her eyebrow, but smiling at ger husband.

 

“Alright, bye love!” George dons his tweed flat cap and walks across the flagstones to kiss his wife. After giving her a chaste, yet loving kiss, he turns to Edith and Hilda at the table. “Bye girls.” He waves and turns away.

 

“Bye Mr. W.!” Hilda says brightly.

 

“Bye Dad!” Edith calls after the retreating figure of her father as he disappears into the scullery and walks out the back door and into the terrace’s rear garden.

 

“What crust!” Ada scoffs as she hears him close the back door. “And thinking of crusts,” She turns her attention back to Edith and Hilda. “We should get on with baking these fruit mince pies before it’s time for you girls to go. We need to give them time to cook and cool.”

 

Edith and Hilda sit in their seats, smirking, their eyes bright with amusement as Ada mixes the large white bowl of fruit mince before her. “Alright, up here, Hilda love!” she says in a commanding voice, taking control of the situation, and regaining her dignity after George’s tale. “You’ll never learn unless you practice, and if you make a mistake, like I did with the apple tea cake I made that day for old Mrs. Watsford, you’ll learn from it.”

 

“Yes Mrs. W.!”

 

Hilda gets up from her seat and stands alongside Ada in front of the pan.

 

“Now, take up the spoons,” Ada directs. “And use one to scoop up some fruit mince and the other to push the mince off the spoon into the pastry tart case. Not too much, mind, Hilda love,” she cautions. “When the fruit mince is hot, it will bubble and expand and we don’t want it overflowing from the cases whilst cooking in the oven.”

 

“No Mrs. W.!”

 

“Just fill the case up three quarters of the way.” Edith adds helpfully.

 

“Good girl, Edith love.” Ada says. “That’s it! Just so.”

 

Hilda takes up a heaped spoon of fruit mince.

 

“No, that’s too much, Hilda, love.” Ada remarks gently. “Shake a bit off back into the bowl.” She and Edith watch as Hilda does as she is told. “That’s better.” Ada nods. “Then fill the case three quarters up.”

 

They watch as Hilda gingerly moves the spoon low over one of the twelve empty sweet shortcrust pastry cases in the patty pan and pushes the mixture off it with the other spoon. The fruit mince falls into the bottom of the casing with a soft, satisfying splat, the mixture of sultanas, currants, raisins, glacé cherries, apple, orange rind, apple, sugar, spices, water and brandy oozing thickly as it settles into place.

 

“Good girl, Hilda love!” Ada says encouragingly, grasping the young girl’s shoulders and squeezing them. “That’s the ticket***********! Once you’ve filled this batch, we’ll pop them into the oven and we’ll make a second batch whilst they cook and then cool. You can cut out the casings and fill them.”

 

“Yes Mrs. W.” Hilda says proudly with a smile as she takes her spoons back to the gleaming, dark and glossy fruit mince in the white mixing bowl and scoops up some more.

 

“Good girl, Hilda love!” Ada says again. “That’s a more manageable amount of fruit mince.”

 

“Thanks awfully, Mrs. W.!” Hilda says with a smile as her face blanches at Ada’s praise.

 

Then, changing topic Ada asks. “So, are you going back to the Scottish Highlands or wherever for Christmas this year, Hilda love?”

 

“Oh Lady Lancraven’s house is in Shropshire, not the Scottish Highlands, Mrs. W.” Hilda replies as she begins to fill a second pastry casing.

 

“Well, wherever it is, are you going, Hilda love?”

 

“No, I’m not this year, Mrs. W., which means I won’t get to see my sister, which is a bit disappointing. But I’m going to spend Christmas Day with Mum at her house in Southall************ at least, so that will be nice.”

 

“What?” Edith pipes up. “No Lady Lancraven’s, this year?”

 

“That will be disappointing for your Mum and your sister, Hilda love.” Ada says consolingly. “You told us you all enjoyed being together so much, last Christmas.”

 

“Why aren’t you going this year, Hilda?” Edith persists.

 

“Well, the Channons have had a bit of a falling out with Mr. Channon’s parents, the Marquis and Marchioness of Taunton, just as of late.” Hilda explains.

 

“This is the first I’ve heard of it.” Edith replies.

 

“I should hope it would be, Edith love!” Ada chides her daughter, wagging a finger at her. “You know that gossiping unnecessarily about your employers will only lead to trouble.” She shakes her head. “There’s nothing worse than a gossiping maid, no matter how good her work is.”

 

“So, what happened?” Edith asks Hilda, ignoring her mother’s protestations.

 

“It’s all over the fact that Mrs. Channon still isn’t with child,” Hilda goes on, lowering her voice as if Margot and Dickie might overhear all the way over in Mayfair. “The Marquis and Marchioness are so anxious that Mr. and Mrs. Channon have a baby to carry on the family name, since Mr. Channon will be the next Marquis, and they have been married a few years.”

 

“Not everyone who wants a family is blessed with one, Hilda love.” Ada says softly.

 

“I know that Mrs. W.” Hilda replies. “It’s not me who needs convincing, but the snooty Marquiss and Marchioness. They want to send poor Mrs. Channon to a clinic of some kind in Switzerland or Germany, somewhere in the mountains, so she can be analysed and examined.”

 

“Prodded and poked, more like!” Edith opines.

 

“I think that’s what caused the fiercest argument between Mr. Channon and the Marquis. I heard Mr. Channon in the study, yelling down the telephone at the Marquis, and saying that he and Mrs. Channon wouldn’t spend Christmas with them at Lady Lancraven’s. Poor Mrs. Channon has been drinking so much lately to calm her nerves as whenever the Marchioness visits or telephones, which is often, she always asks her why she isn’t with child yet. The Marquiss has basically cut off Mr. Channon’s allowance until they produce a baby, and a boy at that, which added extra pressure to them both.”

 

“No wonder Mrs. Channon is drinking then.” Edith remarks.

 

“Oh dear! Poor Mr. and Mrs. Channon. How horrible for them! But if Mr. Channon has had his allowance cut off, how are the household bills being covered, and how are you getting paid, Hilda love?” Ada asks.

 

“You are getting paid, aren’t you Hilda?” Edith pipes up in concern.

 

“Luckily, my wages are paid me by Lord de Virre, Mrs. Channon’s dad,” Hilda explains. “And luckily for Mr. and Mrs. Channon, he has come to their aid too. He’s ever such a nice man, unlike the mean old Marquiss and Marchioness.”

 

“What’s he done?” Edith asks. “Lord de Virre, that is?”

 

“He’s arranging something called a provision for them.” Hilda says a little uncertainly.

 

“A provision?” Ada asks. “Whatever is that, Hilda love?”

 

“I’m not sure exactly, but I think it has something to do with him paying them an allowance instead of the Marquis and Marchioness, at least for now, as Mrs. Channon says that she will cover the household costs from her dad’s provision, so it must involve money in some way.”

 

“Well, that’s a relief!” Edith says. “At least you won’t be put in a position where you have to lie to the wine merchant, like that time when they owed him so much money for champagne and they pretended that they weren’t home, and you had to go along with it and put him off until Mrs. Channon had pawned some of her furs to get him the money.”

 

“That’s a terrible position to put you in, Hilda love!” Ada exclaims.

 

“Well, Mrs. Channon isn’t exactly the best at keeping a household budget at the best of times, Mrs. W., so it’s not the first time that’s happened.”

 

“I don’t know!” Ada shakes her head. “They have more money than we’ll ever have, yet I manage to balance my budget, and did when Edith and Bert were children, and with the costs of everything inflating during the war too!”

 

“Well anyway, that’s why I’m not going to Lady Lancraven’s this year, Mrs. W. It will be nice to spend it with my Mum at least, although I’ll miss seeing Emily. We both will. But we’ll make the best of it.”

 

“Course you will, Hilda love.” Ada wraps a consoling arm around her daughter’s best friend, and pulls her towards her rangy frame.

 

“Where are Mr. and Mrs. Channon going to spend their Christmas then?” Edith asks from her seat at the table.

 

“They are going to spend it with Lord and Lady de Virre in Hans Crescent here in London. Then they are going to go to their Cornish country house outside of Penzance for a few weeks after New Year’s Eve in London. Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Carter are holding a lavish New Year’s Eve fancy dress ball in their Park Lane************* mansion before sailing off on the Mauretania************** to New York to spend the beginning of 1926.”

 

“Well, maybe we can spend a bit more time together over Christmas, Hilda, since neither your employers, nor mine, are going to be around to worry about.” Edith suggests.

 

“That would be nice, Edith. I’d like that.” Hilda smiles gratefully. “Anyway, that’s why I want the fruit mince pies you see, Mr. W., to take to Mum’s on Christmas Day. We don’t have much money between us – certainly not enough to afford the fare that the servants at lady Lancraven’s get – but we can at least have a lovely treat of some fruit mince pies after whatever we cobble together for Christmas tea for the two of us.”

 

“Then we best press on, Hilda love.” Ada says with a smile. “Or else you’ll have none for Christmas.”

 

“Yes Mrs. W.!” Hilda agrees enthusiastically.

 

*The Scarlet Woman is a 1924 silent comedy film directed by Terence Greenidge based on a scenario by British writer Evelyn Waugh. It is a satirical ecclesiastical melodrama about a Catholic plot to bring England back to the Catholic Church, which involves a scheme to convert the Prince of Wales and murder Protestants. The film, which Waugh also acted in, features Elsa Lanchester as a drug-addicted actress and was shot in locations including Oxford and Hampstead.

 

**The Willesden Empire Hippodrome Theatre was confusingly located in Harlesden, although it was not too far from Willesden Junction Railway Station in this west London inner city district. It was opened by Walter Gibbons as a music hall/variety theatre in September 1907. In 1908, the name was shortened to Willesden Hippodrome Theatre. Designed by noted theatre architect Frank Matcham, seating was provided for 864 in the orchestra stalls and pit, 517 in the circle and 602 in the gallery. It had a forty feet wide proscenium, a thirty feet deep stage and eight dressing rooms. It was taken over by Sydney Bernstein’s Granada Theatres Ltd. chain from the third of September 1927 and after some reconstruction was re-opened on the twelfth of September 1927 with a programme policy of cine/variety. From March 1928 it was managed by the Denman/Gaumont group, but was not successful and went back to live theatre use from 28th January 1929. It was closed in May 1930, and was taken over by Associated British Cinemas in August 1930. Now running films only, it operated as a cinema until September 1938. It then re-opened as a music hall/variety theatre, with films shown on Sundays, when live performances were prohibited. The Willesden Hippodrome Theatre was destroyed by German bombs in August/September 1940. The remains of the building stood on the High Street for many years, becoming an unofficial playground for local children, who trespassed onto the property. The remains were demolished in 1957.

 

***A patty pan is a baking pan with a grid of connected, individual cups or moulds used for baking individual portions of batter. It is also known as a muffin tin or cupcake pan and can be used for making muffins, cupcakes, pies or other small baked goods like savory egg cups or mini quiches. It was called a patty pan because it was originally used in the Eighteenth Century to make small meat-filled pastries known as pattys or pastys (today’s equivalent for pasties).

 

****The character Rupert Bear first appeared in the Daily Express on November the 8th, 1920, originally named Little Lost Bear. The character was created by illustrator Mary Tourtel, and Alfred Bestall took over the illustrations in 1935. The cartoon series continues to be published in the Daily Express. The character is also associated with the newspaper through the annual Rupert Annual, which has been published every year since 1936. Rupert has become such a British National Treasure that he has even had his own stamps before. Rupert Bear is part of children's culture in the United Kingdom, and there are four television shows based on the character.

 

*****Rupert Bear first appeared in the Daily Express on page seven, a place he then retained for many years, sob that readers became accustomed to finding him there.

 

******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 phrase "to take the rap" originates from the Eighteenth Century use of "rap" to mean a blow or punishment, and its Nineteenth Century slang use for a prison sentence. Therefore, "taking the rap" evolved to mean accepting a punishment or blame for something, be it a criminal charge or something far less serious in nature.

 

********Colclough Bone China was founded in Staffordshire in 1890 by Herbert J. Colclough, the former mayor of Stoke-on-Trent. Herbert loved porcelain and loved the ordinary working man. One of his desires was to bring fine bone china, a preserve of the upper and middle classes, to the working man. He felt that it would give them aspirations and dignity to eat off fine bone china. Colclough Bone China received a Royal Warrant from King George V in 1913. Colclough went on to innovate the production of fine bone china for the mass market in the 1920s and 1930s. They produced the backstamp brands Royal Vale and Royal Stanley. Colclough Bone China merged with Booth’s Pottery and later acquired Ridgeway China. Eventually they amalgamated with Royal Doulton in the 1970s.

 

*********A flea market is a type of market where vendors sell a variety of goods, typically second hand, handmade, or antique items. These markets are often outdoors, but can also be held indoors, and may operate on a weekly, seasonal, or annual basis. Shoppers can find everything from clothing and furniture to collectibles and curios at bargain prices.

 

**********Button back upholstered furniture contains buttons embedded in the back of the sofa or chair, which are pulled tightly against the leather creating a shallow dimple effect. This is sometimes known as button tufting.

 

***********The exact origin of "that's the ticket" is debated, but it likely comes from a few different places. It may have started as an allusion to a winning lottery ticket or a specific label for something that was perfect. Alternatively, it could be a corruption of the French phrase "c'est l'etiquette," meaning "that's the proper way" or "that's the label". In the 1820s, there was a related phrase, "that's the ticket for soup," which referred to a card that a beggar could use to receive immediate relief at a soup kitchen, and may also be where this phrase is derived from.

 

************Southall was a working-class suburb of London in the 1920s, characterised by its industrialisation and the influx of workers for manual labour jobs in the area's factories. Many factories were built in Southall, which led to significant population growth and its development into an urban area with a working-class demographic. By the end of the Nineteenth Century, Southall became a highly industrialized district with numerous factories. The Otto Monsted Margarine Works, one of the largest in Europe, was a key part of this industrial base. Workers, including a large number of Welsh and Irish steel workers escaping the harsh economic conditions of their origins, moved to Southall in the 1920s to find employment in the available heavy industry jobs.

 

*************Park Lane is a dual carriageway road in the City of Westminster in Central London. It is part of the London Inner Ring Road and runs from Hyde Park Corner in the south to Marble Arch in the north. It separates Hyde Park to the west from Mayfair to the east. The road was originally a simple country lane on the boundary of Hyde Park, separated by a brick wall. Aristocratic properties appeared during the late 18th century, including Breadalbane House, Somerset House, and Londonderry House. The road grew in popularity during the 19th century after improvements to Hyde Park Corner and more affordable views of the park, which attracted the nouveau riche to the street and led to it becoming one of the most fashionable roads to live on in London. Notable residents included the 1st Duke of Westminster's residence at Grosvenor House, the Dukes of Somerset at Somerset House, and the British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli at No. 93. Other historic properties include Dorchester House, Brook House and Dudley House. In the 20th century, Park Lane became well known for its luxury hotels, particularly The Dorchester, completed in 1931, which became closely associated with eminent writers and international film stars. Flats and shops began appearing on the road, including penthouse flats. Several buildings suffered damage during World War II, yet the road still attracted significant development, including the Park Lane Hotel and the London Hilton on Park Lane, and several sports car garages. A number of properties on the road today are owned by some of the wealthiest businessmen from the Middle East and Asia.

 

**************Built by Swan, Hunter and Wigham Richardson for the Cunard Line, the RMS Mauretania was launched in 1906 and began its first voyage in November 1907. It was designed with a new steam turbine engine and was the world's largest ship until 1910. The ship's impressive speed allowed it to capture the eastbound Blue Riband record in 1907 and the westbound record in 1909. It held both records for two decades, cementing its reputation for speed and elegance. he liner was also celebrated for its luxurious interiors, which featured elaborate designs with numerous types of wood, marble, and tapestries. It was nicknamed the "Grand Old Lady of the Atlantic". During World War I, the British Admiralty commissioned the Mauretania for military service. It was converted to a hospital ship and troopship and was equipped with guns, even sporting dazzle camouflage at one point. After the war, the Mauretania was returned to Cunard and resumed its passenger service. It was converted to burn oil and continued to operate for many years. n 1934, after the merger of Cunard and White Star, the liner was retired from service. It made its final voyage and was towed to Rosyth, Scotland, where it was scrapped in 1935.

 

This cluttered, yet cheerful domestic scene is not all it seems to be at first glance, for it is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood. Other items I acquired as an adult through specialist online dealers and artists who specialise in 1:12 miniatures.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

Ada’s kitchen table is covered with things in preparation for her Christmas fruit mince pies.

 

The wooden board the table with the floured rolling pin, the rolled out pastry and the biscuit cutter are artisan miniature pieces made by an unknown artist, which I acquired through Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom. The patty pan of casings also comes from there, as does the teapot shaped floral spoon rest and enamel ended spoon sitting in front of the board. The battered flour cannister, painted in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green, also comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop. The bowl of very realistic looking fruit mince comes from former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.

 

In the foreground on the table are non-matching teacups, saucers and sugar bowl, all of which have come from different miniature stockists both in Australia and the United Kingdom. The Brown Betty teapot came from The Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

Edith’s handbag, handmade from soft leather, is part of a larger collection of hats and bags that I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel, including Ada’s tan soft leather handbag seen resting against her basket at the right of the picture.

 

Edith’s black dyed straw hat with purple roses and black feathers was made by an unknown artisan. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. This hat is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel.

 

In the background you can see Ada’s dark Welsh dresser cluttered with household items. Like Ada’s table and the ladderback chair, I have had the dresser since I was a child. The shelves of the dresser have different patterned crockery which have come from different miniature stockists both in Australia and the United Kingdom. The rather worn and beaten looking enamelled cannisters and bread bin are painted in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green. Aged on purpose, these artisan pieces also came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop. There are also tins of various foods which would have been household staples in the 1920s when canning and preservation revolutionised domestic cookery. Amongst other foods on the dresser are a jar of Marmite, a box of Bisto Gravy Powder, an Oxo stock cube and a box of Ty-Phoo Tea which were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.

 

Marmite is a food spread made from yeast extract which although considered remarkably English, was in fact invented by German scientist Justus von Liebig although it was originally made in the United Kingdom. It is a by-product of beer brewing and is currently produced by British company Unilever. The product is notable as a vegan source of B vitamins, including supplemental vitamin B. Marmite is a sticky, dark brown paste with a distinctive, salty, powerful flavour. This distinctive taste is represented in the marketing slogan: "Love it or hate it." Such is its prominence in British popular culture that the product's name is often used as a metaphor for something that is an acquired taste or tends to polarise opinion.

 

The first Bisto product, in 1908, was a meat-flavoured gravy powder, which rapidly became a bestseller in Britain. It was added to gravies to give a richer taste and aroma. Invented by Messrs Roberts and Patterson, it was named "Bisto" because it "Browns, Seasons and Thickens in One". Bisto Gravy is still a household name in Britain and Ireland today, and the brand is currently owned by Premier Foods.

 

Oxo is a brand of food products, including stock cubes, herbs and spices, dried gravy, and yeast extract. The original product was the beef stock cube, and the company now also markets chicken and other flavour cubes, including versions with Chinese and Indian spices. The cubes are broken up and used as flavouring in meals or gravy or dissolved into boiling water to produce a bouillon. Oxo produced their first cubes in 1910 and further increased Oxo's popularity.

 

In 1863, William Sumner published A Popular Treatise on Tea as a by-product of the first trade missions to China from London. In 1870, William and his son John Sumner founded a pharmacy/grocery business in Birmingham. William's grandson, John Sumner Jr. (born in 1856), took over the running of the business in the 1900s. Following comments from his sister on the calming effects of tea fannings, in 1903, John Jr. decided to create a new tea that he could sell in his shop. He set his own criteria for the new brand. The name had to be distinctive and unlike others, it had to be a name that would trip off the tongue and it had to be one that would be protected by registration. The name Typhoo comes from the Mandarin Chinese word for “doctor”. Typhoo began making tea bags in 1967. In 1978, production was moved from Birmingham to Moreton on the Wirral Peninsula, in Merseyside. The Moreton site is also the location of Burton's Foods and Manor Bakeries factories. Typhoo has been owned since July 2021 by British private-equity firm Zetland Capital. It was previously owned by Apeejay Surrendra Group of India.

 

The large kitchen range in the background is a 1:12 miniature replica of the coal fed Phoenix Kitchen Range. A mid-Victorian model, it has hinged opening doors, hanging bars above the stove and a little bass hot water tap (used in the days before plumbed hot water).

Done