This is the BBC Home Service
As Veida came through the door of her flat, she quickly closed it before turning on the standard lamp in the drawing room. "Punch" was full of cartoons lampooning the blackout, but she took even a chink of light very seriously, even in those early days of the war in that glorious 1939 September when everyone was adapting to the new government regulations. Her own light and airy Knightsbridge flat was now positively repressive with the addition of a thick blackout lining to the red shantung curtains. However, as an air raid warden, she had seen for herself what the enemy from across the Channel could do, as her beloved London was bombed night after night in what was now commonly known as "the Blitz". If the King and Queen could be bombed at Buckingham Palace, as they were the other night, Veida wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.
Veida turned the brown Bakelite lozenge knob of her wireless and waited for the valves to warm up. She removed the tin helmet emblazoned with ARP WARDEN in bold white printed letters from her head. Glancing critically at her shadowy reflection in the mirror over the fireplace she sighed wearily as she tugged at the waves in her pageboy bob that had been compressed by the uncomfortable headgear. “What a fright!” she tutted at her mirrored image. “Thank goodness you aren’t going dancing at the Embassy.” But there was no dancing for Veida now, not with Reggie away. It just didn’t seem right to go dancing with other airmen at a nightclub when your own fiancée was out there somewhere over Europe fighting for you. Primrose Chateris didn’t care, and told Veida so when she scolded her for dancing with a stranger in uniform last week. No; the beautiful sweeping silk and satin gowns Veida wore in 1938 were packed away until… until when? When Reggie returned? When the war ended? When life returned to its pre-war normality? Rubbing her temples, Veida silently wondered if life would ever return to normal. This war seemed to have turned the world she knew and everyone in it upside down.
A crackling broke into Veida’s thoughts as the wireless sputtered to life and she heard the last few notes of a piece of classical music played on a piano. The dial on her walnut wireless glowed happily in the warm lamplight and she heard the familiar male voice announce; “This is the BBC Home Service”.
“Thank goodness,” Veida said aloud to her empty flat. “At least some things can still be relied upon in this topsy turvey world!” And she kicked off her heavy work shoes covered in brick dust and soot and curled up on the couch to hear the latest news and forget about her aching head and weary bones for a little while.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This wonderful Art Deco walnut case wireless radio was made by the New Zealand manufacturers, Temple. According to its serial number, it was made in 1935 and is very much typical of a wireless found in most middle-class homes during the 1930s. It has a pyramid case; still a popular shape after “Egyptomania” or “Tutmania” gripped the world after the discovery of Pharaoh Tutankhamen’s tomb in 1922. Its edges however, are rounded, hinting at the Streamline Moderne style so popular in the mid 1930s. Whilst the fine veneer is a warm walnut, the very Art Deco speaker grille and the two fin details on the front are made of stained blackwood. The manufacturer’s name is picked out in brass on red enamel above the convex glass dial and the lozenge knobs are of mottled chocolate brown Bakelite (an early form of plastic that came into everyday use in the 1920s and 30s). Worked with beautiful glass valves, this radio has to be allowed to warm up before use, but still works beautifully, sending forth a soft, slightly dappled sound that only wireless radios of this era and vintage can do. It can still pick up all AM radio stations as well as shortwave radio from around the world.
Private collection.
The theme for "Smile on Saturday" on Saturday 2nd of May 2020 is "radio". This seemed a worthy entry.
This is the BBC Home Service
As Veida came through the door of her flat, she quickly closed it before turning on the standard lamp in the drawing room. "Punch" was full of cartoons lampooning the blackout, but she took even a chink of light very seriously, even in those early days of the war in that glorious 1939 September when everyone was adapting to the new government regulations. Her own light and airy Knightsbridge flat was now positively repressive with the addition of a thick blackout lining to the red shantung curtains. However, as an air raid warden, she had seen for herself what the enemy from across the Channel could do, as her beloved London was bombed night after night in what was now commonly known as "the Blitz". If the King and Queen could be bombed at Buckingham Palace, as they were the other night, Veida wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.
Veida turned the brown Bakelite lozenge knob of her wireless and waited for the valves to warm up. She removed the tin helmet emblazoned with ARP WARDEN in bold white printed letters from her head. Glancing critically at her shadowy reflection in the mirror over the fireplace she sighed wearily as she tugged at the waves in her pageboy bob that had been compressed by the uncomfortable headgear. “What a fright!” she tutted at her mirrored image. “Thank goodness you aren’t going dancing at the Embassy.” But there was no dancing for Veida now, not with Reggie away. It just didn’t seem right to go dancing with other airmen at a nightclub when your own fiancée was out there somewhere over Europe fighting for you. Primrose Chateris didn’t care, and told Veida so when she scolded her for dancing with a stranger in uniform last week. No; the beautiful sweeping silk and satin gowns Veida wore in 1938 were packed away until… until when? When Reggie returned? When the war ended? When life returned to its pre-war normality? Rubbing her temples, Veida silently wondered if life would ever return to normal. This war seemed to have turned the world she knew and everyone in it upside down.
A crackling broke into Veida’s thoughts as the wireless sputtered to life and she heard the last few notes of a piece of classical music played on a piano. The dial on her walnut wireless glowed happily in the warm lamplight and she heard the familiar male voice announce; “This is the BBC Home Service”.
“Thank goodness,” Veida said aloud to her empty flat. “At least some things can still be relied upon in this topsy turvey world!” And she kicked off her heavy work shoes covered in brick dust and soot and curled up on the couch to hear the latest news and forget about her aching head and weary bones for a little while.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This wonderful Art Deco walnut case wireless radio was made by the New Zealand manufacturers, Temple. According to its serial number, it was made in 1935 and is very much typical of a wireless found in most middle-class homes during the 1930s. It has a pyramid case; still a popular shape after “Egyptomania” or “Tutmania” gripped the world after the discovery of Pharaoh Tutankhamen’s tomb in 1922. Its edges however, are rounded, hinting at the Streamline Moderne style so popular in the mid 1930s. Whilst the fine veneer is a warm walnut, the very Art Deco speaker grille and the two fin details on the front are made of stained blackwood. The manufacturer’s name is picked out in brass on red enamel above the convex glass dial and the lozenge knobs are of mottled chocolate brown Bakelite (an early form of plastic that came into everyday use in the 1920s and 30s). Worked with beautiful glass valves, this radio has to be allowed to warm up before use, but still works beautifully, sending forth a soft, slightly dappled sound that only wireless radios of this era and vintage can do. It can still pick up all AM radio stations as well as shortwave radio from around the world.
Private collection.
The theme for "Smile on Saturday" on Saturday 2nd of May 2020 is "radio". This seemed a worthy entry.