View allAll Photos Tagged GENEROSITY
Letter generously translated by Immanuel; penned on 1.8.1915 and addressed to a Herr Ph. Nöppel Schnles in Enzheim, near Strassburg. Photogr. Paul Petri, Bartenstein.
Eight cavalrymen from Jäger-Regiment zu Pferde Nr. 10 make plans for a Christmas holiday to Russia over an ale.
Ein Festes Haus in Plaue wurde bereits in einer Urkunde von 1216 erstmals erwähnt. Wie das Haus damals aussah ist völlig unbekannt. Die ehemals an gleicher Stelle errichtete Burg des Ritters Johann von Quitzow wurde 1414 von Markgraf Friedrich I. und Erzbischof Günther von Magdeburg im Zuge von Kampfhandlungen nach einer Belagerung eingenommen. Von 1711 bis 1716 wurde unter Friedrich von Görne eine neue Dreiflügelanlage unter Verwendung alter Fundamente und Teile des aufgehenden Mauerwerks der älteren Anlage errichtet. Sie unterscheidet sich von zeitgleichen einfacheren Guts- und Herrenhäusern der Mark Brandenburg durch ihre großzügigen Dimensionen, die französischem Vorbild folgen. Das Hauptgebäude war zweistöckig mit zwei niedrigeren Seitenflügeln. 1839 erwarb Graf Hans Valentin Ferdinand von Königsmarck Schloss und Gut Plaue. In der Hand der Grafen von Königsmarck verblieb der Besitz bis 1945. 1861 wurde das Schloss im neobarocken Stil umgestaltet.
Schloss Plaue wurde im Zweiten Weltkrieg schwer beschädigt. 1945 wurden die Grafen von Königsmarckdurch die Bodenreform enteignet. Bevor das Land Brandenburg im April 1946 eine Verwaltungsschule im Schloss einrichtete, war es mehreren Plünderungen ausgesetzt. 1966 wurde bei der Instandsetzung des Baues zum Zweck der Unterbringung eines Instituts für Sprachintensivausbildung das Äußere stark vereinfacht. Man entfernte Dekorationselemente wie Putzquaderung, Kapitelle und Wappen und überzog die Fassaden mit Rauputz. Das Innere wurde verbaut, die Ausstattung ging bis auf wenige Stuckreste, Holztäfelungen und alte Türen vollständig verloren. Seit 1993 das Institut geschlossen worden ist, steht das Schloss ungeachtet eines Eigentümerwechsels 2006 ungenutzt leer. Seit 2011 gibt es einen neuen Besitzer der das Schloss behutsam saniert.
A fortified house in Plaue was mentioned for the first time in a document from 1216. What the house looked like at that time is completely unknown. The castle of the knight Johann von Quitzow, formerly built on the same site, was taken in 1414 by Margrave Friedrich I and Archbishop Günther von Magdeburg in the course of fighting after a siege. From 1711 to 1716, under Friedrich von Görne, a new three-wing complex was erected using old foundations and parts of the rising masonry of the older complex. It differs from the simpler manor and manor houses of the Mark Brandenburg of the same time by its generous dimensions, which follow the French model. The main building was a two-storey building with two lower side wings. In 1839 Count Hans Valentin Ferdinand von Königsmarck acquired the castle and Plaue estate. The property remained in the hands of the Counts of Königsmarck until 1945. In 1861 the castle was redesigned in neo-Baroque style.
Plaue Castle was badly damaged during the Second World War. In 1945 the Counts of Königsmarck were expropriated by the land reform. Before the state of Brandenburg established an administrative school in the castle in April 1946, it was subjected to several lootings. In 1966 the exterior was greatly simplified when the building was renovated to house an institute for language intensive training. Decorative elements such as plaster ashlars, capitals and coats of arms were removed and the facades were covered with rough plaster. The interior was restructured, the furnishings were completely lost except for a few stucco remains, wooden panelling and old doors. Since the institute was closed in 1993, the castle has remained unused despite a change of ownership in 2006. Since 2011 there has been a new owner who is carefully and gradually renovating the castle.
The holiday season tends to bring out the very best in every one because we are all so willing to be grateful and generous this time of year. The sad part of this ideology though is that we somehow tend to overlook the rest of the year. Life is truly precious, and it should never go unappreciated or uncelebrated. My personal philosophy these past few years has been to live every day with as much appreciation and happiness as I am capable of. It's certainly not always easy to do, but I've definitely found that my dolls have helped me along the way. They remind me every day of how blessed I truly am and have been, and they inspire me to continue to live life with a smile.
My dolls have given me a new found appreciation for all the people in my life. Five years ago, when I started collecting them again, I expected to be questioned, or even ridiculed by my father. I didn't think he would understand or support my decision. Most of all, I feared he would think I was "too old" for them. When I finally mustered the courage to renew my doll hobby, I was pleasantly surprised by my dad's reaction. Contrary to what I thought, my dad welcomed the idea with open arms and an open heart. In fact, he was just as interested in my dolls as I was. He was always offering to go on doll hunts, make me new shelves, rearrange my room, and design doll stands. He showed an interest in all the things I was creating for my dolls, and he was always so complimentary. My sister was equally supportive and interested as I knew she would be. Whenever I look at my dolls, I always remember which ones Dad bought me, the ones he surprised me with, the ones he remembered the names of or poked fun at, and the time he invested in my hobby. The same can be said about all the dolls that remind me of my sister. I've also come to realize just how many people in general are so supportive and interested in my doll hobby. Whether it's someone admiring my displays and complimenting them, or my aunt who helped me make doll earrings, or my uncle who built my massive Bratz shelf, or all the people who are so sweet and have given me dolls, all the love and time other people have invested in me truly amazes me. It's overwhelming when I see just how much I am loved and appreciated. It touches my heart that so many people want to know more about my dolls, or are so willing to contribute in some way.
My dolls have also helped me see that time is a gift that should never be wasted. I didn't know that a year after I started collecting dolls again, that I would lose my father. I had spent many of the previous years pretending not to like dolls because I was embarrassed by them. Words cannot express how grateful I am that dolls reemerged into my life at the time they did. They made my last year with Dad so much more enjoyable. When I first brought my dolls out of storage in 2011, they brought so much happiness with them. The last year with Dad was the hardest one of my life, but it also holds some of my most cherished memories. Colleen, Dad, and I spent our weekends roaming the flea markets scouring for dolls. I remember that we spent many afternoons brooding about how we could somehow fit more shelves for dolls in my room. I dedicated a large portion of my time to doll related projects such as stands and paintings. Dad and Colleen were always so curious about my creations, and always had helpful suggestions and ideas to contribute. There was also the time my Beautiful Hair Ariel's leg broke, and Dad spent a long time in Home Depot looking at various supplies, trying to come up with a way to fix her. Colleen and I started identifying our dolls and their possessions back then, and there were days we entirely dedicated to the quest. What I have come to realize is that it was my early days collecting dolls that have given them so much meaning to me. If I had chosen not to unbury my doll hobby back then, Dad would never have been part of it, and my dolls wouldn't hold the same signifigance to me. Dolls have put time into perspective for me--I spent most of my teenage years scorning them and not being true to myself, which in turn has made me realize that time should never be wasted, but always appreciated.
It's truly amazing how much joy my dolls have filled my life with. They also touched my dad and my sister's lives. We were all inspired by them in a beautiful way. Dad began collecting toy trucks not long after my dolls returned. He even started to repair and repaint many of them. Colleen's love of reading also grew--she became obsessed with tracking down new books and authors to indulge in. The happiness and inspiration that my dolls possessed was truly contagious. But most of all, I think my dolls touched my life. They made me accept who I am, and to love myself for the first time in my life. I liked who I became when dolls rejoined my life. I felt inspired, motivated, creative, dedicated, and passionate. Most of all, I just appreciated feeling something other than emptiness. They helped me find confidence--I realized that if it didn't matter when people laughed at my dolls, why should it ever bother me when someone else casts judgement on me? It occurred to me that I could do anything I put my mind to, whether it was doll related or not. All of these positive emotions didn't just apply to my dolls, but also to every aspect of my life, and for that I am so grateful. I also came to see through my dolls that life is truly all about perception. I found that if I put my energy towards finding things I liked about a doll, rather than disliked, I was a much happier, more fulfilled person. I started to apply that ideology to the rest of my life, and I haven't looked back since. Life will certainly always "hand me lemons" but it is up to me to decide what to do with it, and how I perceive it.
It astounds me all the ways my dolls have taught me to be more grateful. My dolls remind me every day that I am a truly lucky person. They hold my last memories of my father and my childhood close to me, and in turn, I feel like I can better appreciate all the other things I've been so privileged to have. Dolls have shown me that I am capable of creating my own happiness because I can chose to to smile no matter what happens to me in life. They have made me thankful for just being myself--I realized through them that I didn't want to be anyone else or trade lives with them. They have made me see that I have had so many things in my life all along that I chose to overlook and not be grateful for. Every day I am thankful for all 2,400 plus of my dolls, my lovely house (which somehow fits all my dolls), my two lovable cats, my two adorable guinea pigs, my health, the food I get to eat every day, the warm bed I sleep in every night, my entire family, the time I got to spend with my mom and dad, and most of all my sister, who I'd be entirely lost without. There will always be rainy days or times I want to crawl into a hole and disappear, but at the end of the day, I will always find a way to smile. There is always a reason to wake up in the morning, whether it is for something as simple as a warm breakfast, a song on the radio, a pet, or a bunch of plastic dolls. I will always try to make the most of this life I am so lucky to have. My dolls have taught me that it is so important to to appreciate what you have while you have it, because at any moment, it could all disappear. So that is what I try to do--I try to never go to bed angry, to take a moment every day to soak it in, and most importantly, to tell the people I love how I feel, that I am grateful for them, and that I appreciate all the things they do. I truly believe that every day should be Thanksgiving, because today is the only day we are guaranteed, and we are all so lucky to have it.
Letter generously translated by Xiphophilos; penned by Landsturmmann Paul Rupp he writes to his uncle and aunt to inform them he's well and headed 'south'.
Wehrpflicht, the obligation of the individual German to serve his country was the principle upon which the Army was based. The Prussians were the originators of a system whereby the standing army passed men through its ranks and discharged them as trained soldiers who were liable to recall in the event of a national emergency. By this method, the army could be greatly expanded at short notice whilst, in peacetime, the state was not burdened by the cost of maintaining a massive permanent force. The so-called Krumper System was first employed by Prussia during the Napoleonic wars.
After 1893, each German male was liable to be called to serve his country over a 27 year period, from the close of his 17th to his 45th year of age. At the age of 17 a man was enrolled into the 1st Ban of the Landsturm but it was not until his 20th year that he started his active service. Dienstpflicht, as this was known, consisted of two years with the regular Army and five years with its reserve. In the case of a man enlisting in the cavalry or horse artillery, Dienstpflicht was divided into three years with the regular Army and only four years with the reserve.
At the age of 27 a man now joined the 1st Ban of the Landwehr and was transferred into its 2nd Ban at the age of 32. This service lasted until the age of 39 when he passed into the 2nd Ban of the Landsturm where he remained until his 45th year.
The Landsturm infantry were generally formed into battalions which bore the number of the army corps district in which they were raised and a local seniority number, for example IV 7. The Landsturm was widely employed in the rear areas of the Army and in Germany, although they were also extensively used on the Eastern Front in 1914 and 1915.
142 Landsturm battalions were formed upon mobilisation. Some battalions were grouped into mobile Landsturm-Infanterie-Regiments and numbers of these formations were later converted into normal infantry or Landwehr regiments. About 40 of these regiments were formed and they were nearly all initially employed on the Eastern Front.
The generous nature and the old town of Trancoso, founded by the Portuguese in the 16th century, were the privilege to just a few inhabitants – the hippies that discovered the place in the 70s. Since then, the village grew, the electricity came and commerce developed. But the essence of #Terravista_Trancoso_bahia_brazil as well as its main attributes, remain the same.
Robert Kaufman generously donated a charm pack for each member of participating chapters in the Modern Quilt Guild to use for a challenge project of our choosing.
The NOVA Modern Quilt Guild selected the Bright palate (http://www.robertkaufman.com/pre-cut/konareg_cotton_solids_bright_palette1/) to work with and each of us made one or more mini quilts (29"x29" to 45"x45"). The members were allowed to add fabric from their stash as long as the charms remained the stars of the show. The quilts will be donated to the INOVA Fairfax Children's Hospital NICU.
This quilt was created by Miyoko
Generosity comes in all shapes and sizes. On 30 July 2016, six of us from Calgary had the honour of meeting a 92-year-old gentleman who has lived most of his long life on a huge area (380 hectares, 939 acres) of beautiful land near Hanna, Alberta. Though Gottlob Schmidt (known as Schmitty) has now moved into town (Hanna), he is not far from his beloved land and still loves to spend a lot of time there. My friends and I understand why. This untouched land is not only beautiful to the eye, with its undulating hills with small, scattered pockets of Aspen woodland, but it also hides all sorts of natural treasures, including the wildlife that enjoys this native grassland. There are so few areas of native grassland left in Alberta, so each one is very precious. Schmitty told us that he has never seen his land looking so green! Perhaps not too surprising, as we have had so much rain recently, usually accompanied by thunderstorms. In fact, the rain started on our return journey to Calgary and I was driving from our meeting place back to my house in torrential rain. I found a good scattering of small hailstones covering my lawn, too.
This is where the word 'generosity' comes in. Two years ago, Schmitty donated all his land to Alberta Parks, along with certain strict regulations (listed on a link below) on how the land was to be used. He was very warmly recognized for his extreme generosity. The Park is known as Antelope Hill Provincial Park and, when Schmitty is no longer able to visit and enjoy his old, family homestead, the Park will be opened to the public. For now, it remains his own, private property.
The highlight for us was meeting Schmitty himself. I can only hope that I might be lucky enough to be in half his shape if I ever reached that age! It was an absolute delight to spend a little time with this man with the big heart, when we first arrived and again later in the day, when it was time for us to head back to Calgary. We also got to meet Schmitty's good neighbours, Donna and Ken.
www.albertaparks.ca/media/5788002/antelope-hill-pp-fact-s...
calgaryherald.com/news/local-news/you-can-thank-this-man-...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIVVBdkoUVY&feature=youtu.be
My friends (specialists in mosses, lichens and liverworts and other things) and I, were given permission to spend the day there, to list all our findings. Our time was spent climbing one main hill and walking part way around it, calling in at several of the small areas of woodland. This bright yellowy orange fungus was hidden with others within the trees. These were the other highlight for me! It is quite rare that we come across one of these Amanita Muscaria mushrooms, and it is so exciting and such a treat when we do! Of course, it's just a "fungi nut" talking, ha. They are so attractive, especially at the earlier stage when the cap is like a round ball, covered in white flecks, but also poisonous! I will add a previously posted photo of the earlier stage in a comment box below.
"A large conspicuous mushroom, Amanita muscaria is generally common and numerous where it grows, and is often found in groups with basidiocarps in all stages of development. Fly agaric fruiting bodies emerge from the soil looking like a white egg, covered in the white warty material of the universal veil... Amanita muscaria poisoning occurs in either young children or people ingesting it to have a hallucinogenic experience... A fatal dose has been calculated at an amount of 15 caps. Deaths from this fungus A. muscaria have been reported in historical journal articles and newspaper reports. However, with modern medical treatment a fatal outcome because of the poison of this mushroom would be extremely rare."
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amanita_muscaria
Various plants were good to see, too, including about four Prairie Crocuses that were still in bloom. I hadn't seen Skeletonweed for a long time, but there were quite a few small clusters of it. A new plant to me was a tall one with white flowers - White Evening Primrose (seen in my next photo). The occasional gorgeous wild Rose made a bright splash of colour, too.
Of course, for me, any visit to a ranch would not be complete without wandering by any old barn/shed/cabin. Another find was a beautiful, old, glass doorknob on one of the sheds.
On our return walk back to the cars, I suddenly spotted a huge, green caterpillar on the trail. A Tomato hornworm. It had been years since I saw any kind of huge, green larva and, though not my favourite things, I was glad to get a photo of it.
After a few hours of exploration, the only things that we were so happy and relieved to leave behind were the mosquitoes! Never had I seen so many of them - the air was filled with these tiny, blood-sucking insects that followed us every step of the way!
Thanks so much, Heide, for driving Sandy and myself all the way out there - about a two and three-quarter hour drive. Much of the distance was on the same roads that I had driven last week with my daughter, but this was the first time I had ever been as far as Hanna and just beyond. Hanna now has a Tim Horton's, opened around three months ago : ) Thanks, Heide, too, for trying to find the old railway roundhouse - unfortunate that there was too much construction in the area, so one can't get to the roundhouse. And thank you so much, Peter, for arranging and organizing this wonderful trip! Most importantly of all, our thanks to Schmitty, who so kindly allowed us to share the special land that he has called home for so many decades. Our thanks for allowing us to spend the day there and, even more importantly, thank you for your great gift to all Albertans, with your incredibly generous donation of Antelope Hill Provincial Park.
Generosity comes in all shapes and sizes. Yesterday, 30 July 2016, six of us from Calgary had the honour of meeting a 92-year-old gentleman who has lived most of his long life on a huge area (380 hectares, 939 acres) of beautiful land near Hanna, Alberta. Though Gottlob Schmidt (known as Schmitty) has now moved into town (Hanna), he is not far from his beloved land and still loves to spend a lot of time there. My friends and I understand why. This untouched land is not only beautiful to the eye, with its undulating hills with small, scattered pockets of woodland, but it also hides all sorts of natural treasures, including the wildlife that enjoys this native grassland. There are so few areas of native grassland left in Alberta, so each one is very precious. Schmitty told us that he has never seen his land looking so green! Perhaps not too surprising, as we have had so much rain recently, often accompanied by thunderstorms. In fact, the rain started on our return journey to Calgary and I was driving from our meeting place back to my house in torrential rain.
This is where the word 'generosity' comes in. Two years ago, Schmitty donated all his land to Alberta Parks, along with certain strict regulations (listed below) on how the land was to be maintained. He was very warmly recognized for his extreme generosity. The Park is known as Antelope Hill Provincial Park and, when Schmitty is no longer able to visit and enjoy his old, family homestead, the Park will be opened to the public. For now, it remains his own, private property.
The highlight for us yesterday was meeting Schmitty himself. I can only hope that I might be lucky enough to be in half his shape if I ever reached that age! It was an absolute delight to spend a little time with this man with the big heart when we first arrived and again later in the day, when it was time for us to head back to Calgary. We also got to meet Schmitty's good neighbours, Donna and Ken.
www.albertaparks.ca/media/5788002/antelope-hill-pp-fact-s...
calgaryherald.com/news/local-news/you-can-thank-this-man-...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIVVBdkoUVY&feature=youtu.be
My friends (specialists in mosses, lichens and liverworts and other things) and I, were given permission to spend the day there, to list all our findings. Our time was spent climbing one main hill and walking part way around it, calling in at several of the small areas of woodland. One of the highlights for me yesterday was seeing a patch of Amanita Muscaria (Fly Agaric) mushrooms. They were at various stages - for me, the earlier stage is the most exciting, when the mushroom has a round cap, speckled with white flecks. It is quite rare that we come across one of these, and it is so exciting and such a treat when we do! They are so beautiful and amazing. Of course, it's just a "fungi nut" talking, ha. The previous shot posted today is a telemacro shot, so the fungus was much smaller in reality. They are so attractive but also poisonous!
"A large conspicuous mushroom, Amanita muscaria is generally common and numerous where it grows, and is often found in groups with basidiocarps in all stages of development. Fly agaric fruiting bodies emerge from the soil looking like a white egg, covered in the white warty material of the universal veil... Amanita muscaria poisoning occurs in either young children or people ingesting it to have a hallucinogenic experience... A fatal dose has been calculated at an amount of 15 caps. Deaths from this fungus A. muscaria have been reported in historical journal articles and newspaper reports. However, with modern medical treatment a fatal outcome because of the poison of this mushroom would be extremely rare."
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amanita_muscaria
Various plants were good to see, too, including about four Prairie Crocuses that were still in bloom. I hadn't seen Skeletonweed for a long time, but there were quite a few small clusters of it. A new plant to me was a tall one with white flowers, that I still need to identify properly. The occasional gorgeous wild Rose made a bright splash of colour.
After a few hours of exploration, the only things that we were so happy and relieved to leave behind were the mosquitoes! Never had I seen so many of them - the air was filled with these tiny, blood-sucking insects that followed us every step of the way!
Thanks so much, Heide, for driving Sandy and myself all the way out there - about a two and three-quarter hour drive. Much of the distance was on the same roads that I had driven last week with my daughter, but this was the first time I had ever been as far as Hanna and just beyond. Hanna now has a Tim Horton's, opened around three months ago : ) Thanks, Heide, too, for trying to find the old railway roundhouse - unfortunate that there was too much construction in the area, so one can't get to the roundhouse. And thank you so much, Peter, for arranging and organizing this wonderful trip! Most importantly of all, our thanks to Schmitty, who so kindly allowed us to share the special land that he has called home for so many decades. Our thanks for allowing us to spend the day there and, even more importantly, thank you for your great gift to all Albertans, with your incredibly generous donation of Antelope Hill Provincial Park.
The single most generous financial donor to the St. Louis Gender Foundation (StLGF) recently asked that I have dinner with her to discuss the future of the organization. The pandemic related decline in member participation as well as likely leadership changes were of concern to her.
We had a good discussion about the current organizational issues facing the St. Louis Gender Foundation (StLGF). Despite the challenging lighting conditions in the restaurant, I decided to capture this quick selfie at the dining table.
Letter generously translated by xiphophilos.
„Kino in Grandham. In der Mitte unser Zahlmeister, dahinter Feldwebel Schußler(?) 12.4.16 L.“
One of two photographs depicting activity inside and outside the movie theatre in Grandham, a commune in the Ardennes department in northern France.
Letter generously translated by Immanuel Voigt, penned in Blaichach on 24.12.16 and addressed to Fräulein Anna Stamm, Post Himmelkron, Oberfranken, Bayern, the author sends his regards from Blaichach. Photogr. Hans Hipp, Immenstadt i. Allgäu. Postage cancelled in Blaichach the same day.
Another good day for the photographer Hans Hipp with eleven customers from Jäger-Regiment Nr.3 desirous of having their photograph taken in his famous studio.
All these fellows are wearing their distinctive Skilitewken, with most adorned with the "S" (Schneeschuh) insignia on the collars. As if ensuring they were not mistaken for any other branch of service, they have brought along a pair of skis to have included in the photo.
Letter generously translated by xiphophilos, penned in Baboeuf, on 16.2.15 and addressed to Fräulein Elisabeth Rademacher in Ostende near Herdecke (Westfalen), the author optimistically advises the war will soon be over because "the Russian is soon going to be done".
An interesting photo in that these fellows are still wearing their field-grey Kollers, which according to many sources were abolished in 1913 and replaced with the M1907/10 pattern tunics.
Generous serving of fresh pirarucu with shrimp in Brazil nut cream at Casa do Saulo, Santarém, voted best restaurant in northern Brazil.
diariodofb.com/2019/06/11/casa-do-saulo-e-eleito-novament...
Letter generously translated by xiphophilos; penned in Zeithain on the 27.9.1914 and addressed to Familie Benedix in Leipzig. Postage cancelled Zeithain-Übungsplatz the same day. Photogr. Frank, Chemnitz.
Nine Soldaten hailing from 1. Kompanie, Reserve-Infanterie-Regiment Nr. 244 photographed in Chemnitz just two months after Germany invaded Belgium.
By War's end, the regiment would lose 50 officers and approximately 1,200 NCOs and enlisted men.
Prayer Flag #5: Generosity
Oh look! Candy Carnival brought not one or two, but three gifts for your birthday! Wasn't that generous of her?
This is another prayer flag that I received in a swap. My favorite part of it is the crocheted flower and leaves. I also love that the bird and branch are hand-stitched in place with big, bold stitches. I told my partner that I liked birds; I put them on a lot of things, including this doll dress.
High buses and low bridges don't mix. Our Victorian ancestors were surprisingly generous with railway bridge headroom on the whole, considering that at the time the only vehicles traversing the highways were horse-drawn carriages and carts. But with such an extensive rail network, we were still left with a legacy of many low bridges around the country especially in more rural areas.
As motor buses became more popular and double deckers came into widespread use, this became a problem. Even after the development of the revolutionary Leyland 'Titan' in the late 1920s, a typical double decker was (and indeed, still is) around 14 feet 6 inches. A fot could be reduced by adopting the 'lowbridge' layout, with the upstairs gangway moved to the side of the bus and lowered over the offside seats. But this was very inconvenient for conductors and passengers and led to many bumped heads below that sunken gangway.
In the late 1940s, Bristol developed the 'Lodekka', a new chassis with specially lowered components and in particular a rear axle that wasn't a straight pipe, but had a 'dropped centre' so the lower gangway could be lower. As a nationalised company, Bristol was unable to sell their model to private bus companies; but they could license the design, and they did so - to respected but small bus builders Dennis of Guildford who called their version the Loline.
Other companies brought out rivals including AEC which created the Renown, a similar chassis to the Lodekka. But by the time these models got going attention was turning to the new generation of bus model like the rear-engined Atlantean, so these front-engined low height buses didn't sell in the thousands that their makers had hoped.
The North Western Road Car Company of Stockport had many low bridges in its area, and quite a lot of lowbridge buses, so it was keen to try the new low height models and bought both Dennis Lolines and AEC Renowns. We can see one of each here - Dennis Loline on the left, and AEC Renown on the right.
North Western got good use out of their low height buses but then along came the Daimler Fleetline and that was that - no more front-engined buses. Fortunately one Loline survives, number 872, in private preservation. Meanwhile the Museum of Transport Greater Manchester has both a 'lowbridge' bus, number 224 of 1948; and one of the rear-engined Fleetlines that swept away the older types, number 174 of 1965. If you'd like to know more about the Museum of Transport Greater Manchester and its collection of vintage buses, go to www.gmts.co.uk.
© Greater Manchester Transport Society. All rights reserved. Unauthorised reproduction is strictly prohibited and may result in action being taken to protect the intellectual property interests of the Society.
Letter generously translated by Nettenscheider, written to the his sister-in-law Fräulein Katharine Schlör in Bönnigheim, the author passes on his best wishes for Christmas and New Year.
Landwehrmänner from württembergisches Landwehr-Infanterie-Regiment Nr 121 use an Alsace rockface as a backdrop for a ca. 1915 memento photograph.
These fellows would be involved in positional warfare along France's eastern border for the majority of the war.
________________________________________________
Notes.
w. Landwehr-Infanterie-Regiment Nr. 121 (Vier Bataillone)
Aufgestellt in Heilbronn (R.Stb., I., II., III., IV.)
Unterstellung:Festungsbesatzung Neubreisach, 51. L.I.Brig.
Kommandeur:Oberstleutnant Bechtinger (w. I.R.Nr. 122) gef.: 4.9.14
I.:Major a. D. Timmermann
II.:Oberstleutnant z. D. Brock (St.Offz. Stuttgart) gef.: 4.9.14
III.:Major z. D. v. Maur (Bez.-Offz. Horb)
IV.:Oberstleutnant a. D. v. Capoll gef.: 3.11.14
Das IV. Bataillon trat im März 1915 als II. Bataillon zum L.I.R.Nr. 126. (s. S. 163)
Verluste:22 Offz., 658 Uffz. und Mannschaften.
Letter generously translated by xiphophilos; penned 20.7.1916 by Christian Bidlingmaier and addressed to his family in Plochingen, Württemberg. Einheitsstempel: Kavallerie Eskadron Nr. 8. 8. Ersatz-Division. Postage cancelled 2 days later (K.D. Feldpostation Nr. 105).
A weather balloon is prepared for flight by its ground crew sometime around mid-1916. By 1915 the value of meteorology had been recognised from the operation of Zeppelins and the deployment of poison gas.
From September 1914 to October 1916, the 8. Ersatz-Division was positioned in the region between the Meuse and Moselle Rivers, especially in an area known as the Priest's Forest (German: Priesterwald).
Amtrak Generous Electric P32 #59 has a Missouri River Runner train on approach to the Jefferson City station on 07-11-2015. The old Missouri Pacific shops were in the trees on the left.
Letter generously translated by Nettenscheider; penned on 22 April 1915 and sent to the author's daughter Maria Ostermeier in Rohrbach.
"Pray diligently and devoutly to God that the war will soon end and that I will return home happy and healthy."
The presence of a Landsturm oil-cloth cap might be an indication that this fellow has not long been elevated into the Landwehr - the third tier of the German Army.
At the start of World War 1, the German Army had four tiers of military service; Active, Reserve, Landwehr and Landsturm. The latter two consisting mainly of older men who had done their time in the Active and Reserve regiments and would be utilised in 'quieter sectors' of the front(s). That was the theory anyway.
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, grew up. 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. Usually even before she walks through the glossy black painted front door, on washing day Edith can smell the familiar scent of a mixture of Lifebuoy Soap, Borax and Robin’s Starch, which means her mother is washing the laundry of others wealthier than she in the terrace’s kitchen at the rear of the house. Yet with her father’s promotion, Edith’s mother is only laundering a few days a week now.
We find ourselves in the Watsford’s scullery at the back of the terrace behind the kitchen, which like most Victoria era homes, also serves as the wash house. Ada is busy looking for something between several large baskets of dirty laundry yet to be washed, and a basket of dry undergarments with lace trims that belong to the Watsford’s uppity landlady, Mrs. Hounslow, which require goffering**. “Now where did I put the other half of my goffering iron?” Ada mutters as she searches for the toothed bottom half of her black iron with its matching teeth and handle which sits atop the laundry copper***
Like all the houses in the terrace, the Watsford’s scullery has an old square-sided ceramic sink in the corner, set on bricks, joined to the same pipe as the one directly behind the wall in the corner of the kitchen, however the small room is dominated by the large built-in washing cauldron made of bricks, set above its own wood fire furnace with a copper cauldron in its centre. The distemper on the walls of the scullery are tinted ever so slightly blue, a traditional colour for laundries, as it made whites look even whiter. Around it stand wicker baskets for laundry, a dolly-peg**** and a very heavy black painted mangle***** with wooden rollers, whilst on the copper’s top a panoply of laundry items stand, including an enamelled water jug, bowls, irons, a washboard and various household laundry products. The room smells comfortingly clean: scents of soap and starch that have seeped into every fibre of the space.
“Ah! There you are!” Ada exclaims, withdrawing the bottom of her goffering iron from where it has been wedged between the brick side of the laundry copper and an empty basket on the floor. “Come here, you wretch of a thing! How did you get down there? I bet George put you down there mistaking you for a boot scrape for his dirty gardening boots!”
“Oh Mum! Mum!” Edith’s breathy cries proceed her, echoing through the Watsford’s terrace and announcing her presence before she bursts into the room.
“Goodness! Edith? What on earth!” Ada gasps in delighted surprise as she deposits the heavy goffering iron onto the top of the copper, and glances up to the open door leading from the kitchen into the scullery. “I wasn’t expecting you today, Edith love! You said you weren’t coming.” She laughs. “What a lovely surprise!”
“Oh Mum!” Edith gasps again, catching her breath as she falls into her mother’s welcoming open arms, burying her head into her shoulder which smells comfortingly of the sweet scent of Hudson’s Soap******.
Releasing her daughter, Ada holds her at arm’s length and admires her smart three-quarter length pilum coloured spring coat and her usual purple rose and black feather decorated straw cloche hat. However, what strikes her more about her daughter today than her outfit is the flush in her young cheeks, the gleam in her pale blue eyes and the radiant smile gracing her lips. “Look at you, my darling girl.” The older woman self-consciously pushes loose strands of her mousey brown hair back behind her ears. Chuckling awkwardly, she remarks with a downwards glance. “Don’t you look lovely today, Edith love. Did you find out what your surprise from Frank was in the end?”
“Oh did I what, Mum!” Edith swoons with a sigh, leaning against the laundry copper.
“Well?” Ada asks, smiling in delight because of a mixture of her daughter’s unexpected appearance in her scullery and her obvious happiness. “What was it? Grab that stool from over there, and sit down.” She indicates with a careworn hand to a small three legged stool near the copper on which stands a basket of laundry waiting to be pressed. “Tell me all about it.”
Edith does as her mother bids, and after placing the basket of frothy, lacy laundry on the flagstone floor, settles down upon the stool which she draws up closely before the door of the copper and her mother’s anxiously awaiting figure as Ada sinks down upon the wood pile next to the copper.
“Do you need a glass of water, Edith love?” Ada asks, standing up quickly again and picking up a battered cream enamel jug with a green handle and a green rained lip.
“No Mum.” Edith huffs. “I just… need to catch my breath a little. I’ve run all the way from the Underground*******.” She indicates with her hand for her mother to resume her perch on the wood pile again.
“Goodness! Run all that way to tell me about Frank’s surprise!” Ada remarks sinking back down again with another chuckle. “It must have been grand: grander than a trip to Clapham Common******** I’ll wager, since you’re so dressed up.”
“Oh, it’s much grander and more exciting than that, Mum!” Edith enthuses.
“So, tell me what you did then, Edith love.”
“Well, I did as Frank asked me to do, and as you’ve pointed out. I got dressed up and I wore my white blouse with the Peter Pan collar*********, just like he asked me to.”
“You knew you weren’t going to Clapham Common then, Edith love?”
“Well, I didn’t know for certain, Mum, but as I was saying to Hilda on the trip up from Mayfair…”
“Hilda went with you?” Ada asks in surprise, her eyes widening as she speaks.
“No! No, Mum. Of course, as you know Hilda and I both have Wednesday half-days off, so we caught the train together from Down Street**********, but as we weren’t spending our half-day together today, we caught the train together as far as Leicester Square, before she went off to the British Museum*********** to see some famous stone or other she wanted to look at, whilst I went on to Clapham Junction.”
“A stone! That sounds most peculiar. Going to see a stone in a museum! Hilda is always welcome to come and look at my flagstones any day she likes,” Ada says with a sweeping gesture towards her feet. “And clean them if it so pleases her.”
“Oh Mum!” Edith scoffs with a wave.
“Then again, Hilda is a little peculiar, and that’s a fact.” Ada opines. “Although I do like her in spite of those peculiarities.”
“Anyway Mum,” Edith says, drawing her mother back to her story. “Hilda and I had a conversation about what my surprise might be. Hilda said that it could still have been a picnic, even if I did feel a bit overdressed for the occasion.”
“There’s nothing wrong with dressing up for a picnic, Edith love.” Ada remarks.
“Hilda said the same thing, Mum.”
“Back when your father and I were courting, going on a picnic was a very fine occasion, and we always wore our very best bib and tucker************.”
“I know you did, Mum, but we didn’t go for a picnic in the end, although Frank did take me for a nice tea at some rather smart tea rooms along Lavender Hill*************.”
“So, Frank took you for a special tea then, Edith love? That is lovely!”
“He did, Mum, but that isn’t the surprise he promised me.” Edith goes on. “That came beforehand. I arrived and Clapham Junction Railway Station************** like we’d agreed, and he was there to collect me. From there he took me to a photographic studio nearby where a friend of his works, a Mr. Simpkin, as an assistant photographer. He took our photographs.”
“Oh, that is an even lovelier surprise, Edith love!” Ada smiles.
“But that isn’t the best of it, Mum!” Edith exclaims, barely able to contain herself, slipping the dainty lace glove off her left hand and holding her fingers out before her mother.
Ada looks at her daughter’s left hand, which is slightly careworn with housework, although not as badly as her own. Usually her hand is bare, but she cannot help but notice the gleaming thin band of silver glinting on her ring finger today. She gasps as she looks up into Edith’s beaming face.
“Oh Edith! Frank finally proposed!”
“He did, Mum! He did, and I said yes!”
Ada stands up from her perch on the pile of wooden logs, just as Edith gets to her own feet, and steps forward and embraces her daughter lovingly.
“Oh Edith!” Ada feels unshed tears stinging her eyes as they then start to leak from her lids and spill down her cheeks. “Edith I’m so happy for you***************, my darling, darling girl!”
Enveloped in her mother’s arms Edith sighs gratefully and presses herself closer to her mother. “Thank you, Mum. I’m so happy too!”
The two women break apart, both their faces awash with tears, but faces beaming with happiness.
“Oh Edith!” Ada laughs with relieved delight as she starts to spin herself and her daughter in the small square of flagstone covered floor in the laundry. “This is the most wonderful, wonderful news!”
Around and around they spin, laughing and squealing like young girls rather than women, until finally Ada’s longer pre-war ankle length skirt and old fashioned petticoats knock over a basket of laundry, sending the contents tumbling across the flagstones.
“Oh! Careful Mum!” Edith exclaims, bringing the two of them to a halt. “The washing.”
“Oh pooh to the washing, Edith love!” Ada exclaims, the smile still broad on her face and she stoops and gathers the sheets and pillow slips up. “It can always be thrown back into the copper for boiling again. It isn’t every day that my only daughter gets married! Oh, you just wait until I tell your Dad!”
“Well, I thought I might tell him myself,” Edith ventures. “If that’s alright, Mum.”
“Alright? Well of course it’s alright, Edith love!” Ada replies. “How could it not be? It is your news after all: well, yours and Frank’s that is! But can you wait that long until your Dad comes home from his afternoon shift? I mean, won’t you be expected back at Cavendish Mews?”
“Not today, Mum. Miss Lettice has gone off with Mr. Bruton to Essex, so I can stay until Dad gets home and my absence won’t be noticed.”
“Oh wonderful!” Ada claps her hands. “Your Dad and I been waiting for this announcement! Now I can tell you that not so very long ago, your young Frank came to visit us on a Sunday, and he asked us for your hand in marriage.”
“Really?” Edith asks. “That was very sneaky of him, especially when he told me that he’d ask when the time was right.”
“Well, I guess he felt that now was the right time, Edith love. He did confide in me that he felt awful telling you white lies like he did, but he had to do it, in order to keep it all a big surprise, and Your Dad and I kept quiet about it too.”
“Well, it certainly worked, Mum! I was so surprised when Frank asked me to marry him!”
“So how did he propose in the end, Edith love?” Ada asks, taking Edith’s hand and rubbing the silver band on her finger. “Tell me everything!”
“So, Mr. Simpkin had us settle in at the studio and he posed us for a photograph, knowing full well that Frank was going to propose, as I now know. He even handed Frank the ring behind my back. Mr. Simpkin had Frank stand in such a way that he could propose to me and slip the ring on my finger.”
“Did Frank get down on one knee, Edith love?”
“No!” Edith laughed, raising a hand to her lips girlishly. “He just blurted out, ‘Edith Watsford, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’ and he slipped the ring onto my finger, even before I could answer.” She sighs contentedly. “Of course he needn’t have worried that I was going to say no, because of course I didn’t!”
Edith bursts into a fresh barrage of happy tears before falling upon her mother’s neck again, who embraces her hard and joins in her crying. Breaking apart again, Ada looks down at the ring again.
“Frank apologised to me about the engagement ring being silver. He promises me that my wedding ring will be gold.”
“And so it will be, Edith love, but a silver ring is more than enough for now.”
“I told him the same, Mum. He’s even had our names engraved on the inside and 1925.”
“Well! Isn’t that a thing!” Ada replies, suitably impressed. “Have you told Nyrie, Mrs. McTavish yet, or has Frank gone to do that now whilst you’ve come here to tell me and your Dad?”
“No, we’ll tell Mrs. McTavish together next week, Mum. I couldn’t wait to break the news to you though.”
“Oh Nyrie will be over the moon when she hears: as thrilled as I am, and your Dad will be.” Ada sighs again. “My little girl, poised to become a woman.”
“We’re not getting married just yet, Mum. This is an engagement ring, not a wedding ring. And we’ve already decided that I won’t tell Miss Lettice our news yet, until we’ve set a date. And I’ll hang the ring from a chain about my neck to stop it spoiling with all the hard graft I must do at Cavendish Mews, and I’ll wear it proudly on my finger on Frank’s and my days out together.”
“That’s very wise, Edith love. I’m sure your Miss Lettice would be understanding of you wanting to work up until you’re wed, but,” Ada screws up her face. “Well, people like her can be fickle, and you might find she dismisses you and she just employs a new maid-of-all-work.”
“Oh, I’m sure she wouldn’t do that, Mum.” Edith assures her. “She says I’m invaluable to her.”
“No, you’re probably right, but I think you’re wise about keeping quiet about your news just for now. You might be surprised how much a marriage status can turn you from invaluable to dispensable maid in an employer’s eyes.”
“Well, like I said, I won’t let on until we’ve set a date.”
“Wise girl. You’ve got a good head screwed onto those shoulders of yours.”
“Well, you helped put it there, Mum. You and Dad.”
Ada looks around her and exclaims, “Goodness me! What are we doing, standing here in the scullery? It’s not every day that my only daughter announces she is getting married! Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll see if I can’t find us a little something celebratory to toast your engagement with your father.”
Together the pair leave the laundry and the washing behind, laughing and celebrating Edith’s wonderful news.
*McVitie's (Originally McVitie and Price) is a British snack food brand owned by United Biscuits. The name derives from the original Scottish biscuit maker, McVitie and Price, Ltd., established in 1830 on Rose Street in Edinburgh, Scotland. The company moved to various sites in the city before completing the St. Andrews Biscuit Works factory on Robertson Avenue in the Gorgie district in 1888. The company also established one in Glasgow and two large manufacturing plants south of the border, in Heaton Chapel, Stockport, and Harlesden, London (where Edith’s father works). McVitie and Price's first major biscuit was the McVitie's Digestive, created in 1892 by a new young employee at the company named Alexander Grant, who later became the managing director of the company. The biscuit was given its name because it was thought that its high baking soda content served as an aid to food digestion. The McVitie's Chocolate Homewheat Digestive was created in 1925. Although not their core operation, McVitie's were commissioned in 1893 to create a wedding cake for the royal wedding between the Duke of York and Princess Mary, who subsequently became King George V and Queen Mary. This cake was over two metres high and cost one hundred and forty guineas. It was viewed by 14,000 and was a wonderful publicity for the company. They received many commissions for royal wedding cakes and christening cakes, including the wedding cake for Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip and Prince William and Catherine Middleton. Under United Biscuits McVitie's holds a Royal Warrant from Queen Elizabeth II.
**To goffer something means to crimp, plait, or flute (linen, lace, etc.) especially with a heated iron.
***A wash copper, copper boiler or simply copper is a wash house boiler, generally made of galvanised iron, though the best sorts are made of copper. In the inter-war years, they came in two types. The first is built into a brickwork furnace and was found in older houses. The second was the free-standing or portable type, it had an enamelled metal exterior that supported the inner can or copper. The bottom part was adapted to hold a gas burner, a high pressure oil or an ordinary wood or coal fire. Superior models could have a drawing-off tap, and a steam-escape pipe that lead into the flue. It was used for domestic laundry. Linen and cotton were placed in the copper and were boiled to whiten them. Clothes were agitated within the copper with a washing dolly, a vertical stick with either a metal cone or short wooden legs on it. After washing, the laundry was lifted out of the boiling water using the washing dolly or a similar device, and placed on a strainer resting on a laundry tub or similar container to capture the wash water and begin the drying and cooling process. The laundry was then dried with a mangle and then line-dried. Coppers could also be used in cooking, used to boil puddings such as a traditional Christmas pudding.
****A dolly-peg, also known as a dolly-legs, peggy, or maiden, in different parts of Britain, was a contraption used in the days before washing machines to cloth in a wash-tub, dolly-tub, possing-tub or laundry copper. Appearing like a milking stool on a T-bar broomstick handle, it was sunk into the tub of clothes and boiling water and then used to move the water, laundry and soap flakes around in the tub to wash the clothes.
*****A mangle (British) or wringer (American) is a mechanical laundry aid consisting of two rollers in a sturdy frame, connected by cogs and (in its home version) powered by a hand crank or later by electricity. While the appliance was originally used to squeeze water from wet laundry, today mangles are used to press or flatten sheets, tablecloths, kitchen towels, or clothing and other laundry.
******Robert Spear Hudson (1812 – 1884) was an English businessman who popularised dry soap powder. His company was very successful thanks to both an increasing demand for soap and his unprecedented levels of advertising. In 1837 he opened a shop in High Street, West Bromwich. He started making soap powder in the back of this shop by grinding the coarse bar soap of the day with a mortar and pestle. Before that people had had to make soap flakes themselves. This product became the first satisfactory and commercially successful soap powder. Despite his title of "Manufacturer of Dry Soap" he never actually manufactured soap but bought the raw soap from William Gossage of Widnes. The product was popular with his customers and the business expanded rapidly. In the 1850s he employed ten female workers in his West Bromwich factory. His business was further helped by the removal of tax on soap in 1853. In time the factory was too small and too far from the source of his soap so in 1875 he moved his main works to Bank Hall, Liverpool, and his head office to Bootle, while continuing production at West Bromwich. Eventually the business in Merseyside employed about 1,000 people and Hudson was able to further develop his flourishing export trade to Australia and New Zealand. The business flourished both because of the rapidly increasing demand for domestic soap products and because of Hudson's unprecedented levels of advertising. He arranged for striking posters to be produced by professional artists. The slogan "A little of Hudson's goes a long way" appeared on the coach that ran between Liverpool and York. Horse, steam and electric tramcars bore an advertisement saying "For Washing Clothes. Hudson's soap. For Washing Up". Hudson was joined in the business by his son Robert William who succeeded to the business on his father's death. In 1908 he sold the business to Lever Brothers who ran it as a subsidiary enterprise during which time the soap was manufactured at Crosfield's of Warrington. During this time trade names such as Rinso and Omo were introduced. The Hudson name was retained until 1935 when, during a period of rationalisation, the West Bromwich and Bank Hall works were closed.
*******Harlesden is an interchange station on Acton Lane in north-west London. It is on the Bakerloo line of the London Underground and the Lioness line of the London Overground, between Stonebridge Park and Willesden Junction stations. The railway line here is the border between the Harlesden and Stonebridge residential area in the east, and the Park Royal industrial estate to the west. The southern end of Willesden Brent Sidings separates the station from the West Coast Main Line.
********At over eighty-five hectares in size, Clapham Common is one of London’s largest, and oldest, public open spaces, situated between Clapham, Battersea and Balham. Clapham Common is mentioned as far back as 1086 in the famous Domesday Book, and was originally ‘common land’ for the Manors of Battersea and Clapham. Tenants of the Lords of the Manors, could graze their livestock, collect firewood or dig for clay and other minerals found on site. However, as a result of increasing threats from encroaching roads and housing developments, it was acquired in 1877 by the Metropolitan Board of Works, and designated a “Metropolitan Common”, which gives it protection from loss to development and preserves its open character.
*********A Peter Pan collar is a style of clothing collar, flat in design with rounded corners. It is named after the collar of Maude Adams's costume in her 1905 role as Peter Pan, although similar styles had been worn before this date. Peter Pan collars were particularly fashionable during the 1920s and 1930s.
**********Down Street, is a disused station on the London Underground, located in Mayfair. The Great Northern, Piccadilly and Brompton Railway opened it in 1907. It was latterly served by the Piccadilly line and was situated between Dover Street (now named Green Park) and Hyde Park Corner stations. The station was little used; many trains passed through without stopping. Lack of patronage and proximity to other stations led to its closure in 1932. During the Second World War it was used as a bunker by the Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, and the war cabinet. The station building survives and is close to Down Street's junction with Piccadilly.
***********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.
************“Best bib and tucker” is an informal, old fashioned idiom that means one's best, most formal clothes. It's a humorous way of saying someone is dressed up nicely, as if for a special occasion. The phrase originates from the time when men's shirts often had a frill at the front (the "bib") and women might wear a decorative lace piece over their neck and shoulders (the "tucker").
*************Lavender Hill is a bustling high street serving residents of Clapham Junction, Battersea and beyond. Until the mid Nineteenth Century, Battersea was predominantly a rural area with lavender and asparagus crops cultivated in local market gardens. Hence, it’s widely thought that Lavender Hill was named after Lavender Hall, built in the late Eighteenth Century, where lavender grew on the north side of the hill.
**************Clapham Junction is a major railway station near St John's Hill in south-west Battersea in the London Borough of Wandsworth. Despite its name, Clapham Junction is not in Clapham, a district one mile to the south-east. A major transport hub, Clapham Junction station is on both the South West Main Line and Brighton Main Line, as well as numerous other routes and branch lines which pass through or diverge from the main lines at this station. It serves as a southern terminus of both the Mildmay and Windrush lines of the London Overground.
***************In more socially conscious times it was traditional to wish the bride-to-be happiness, rather than saying congratulations as we do today. Saying congratulations to a bride in past times would have implied that she had won something – her groom. The groom on the other hand was to be congratulated for getting the lady to accept his marriage proposal.
This cheerful laundry scene is not all you may suppose it to be, for the fact is that all the items are from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in thus tableau include:
The red brick copper in the centre of the image is a very cleverly made 1:12 artisan miniature from an unnamed artist. Believe it of not, it is made of balsa wood and then roughened and painted to look like bricks. I acquitted it from Doreen Jeffries’ Miniature World in the United Kingdom.
The great wrought mangle with its real wooden rollers is made of white metal by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.
The dolly-peg is an antique Victorian dollhouse miniature and it’s tub is sitting behind it. I am just lucky that something from around 1860 just happens to be the correct scale to fit with my 1:12 artisan miniatures.
There is a panoply of items used in pre-war laundry preparation on the white painted surface of the copper. There are two enamel rather worn and beaten looking bowls and an enamel jug in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green. Aged on purpose, these artisan pieces I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom. The grater and the two small irons also come from there. The boxes of Borax, Hudson’s Soap and Robin’s Starch and the bottle of bleach in the green glass were made with great attention to detail on the labels by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
Before the invention of aerosol spray starch, the product of choice in many homes of all classes was Robin starch. Robin Starch was a stiff white powder like cornflour to which water had to be added. When you made up the solution, it was gloopy, sticky with powdery lumps, just like wallpaper paste or grout. The garment was immersed evenly in that mixture and then it had to be smoothed out. All the stubborn starchy lumps had to be dissolved until they were eliminated – a metal spoon was good for bashing at the lumps to break them down. Robins Starch was produced by Reckitt and Sons who were a leading British manufacturer of household products, notably starch, black lead, laundry blue, and household polish.
Reckitt and Sons who were a leading British manufacturer of household products, notably starch, black lead, laundry blue, and household polish also produced Jumbo Blue, which was a whitener added to a wash to help delay the yellowing effect of older cotton. Rekitt and Sons were based in Kingston upon Hull. Isaac Reckitt began business in Hull in 1840, and his business became a private company Isaac Reckitt and Sons in 1879, and a public company in 1888. The company expanded through the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries. It merged with a major competitor in the starch market J. and J. Colman in 1938 to form Reckitt and Colman.
Mirit Ben-Nun paints women, who are called nowadays “career women”; independent women, who are not dependent on men or husbands, who have their own room, their own office, own studio (their own bank account) and their own dream. The writer Virginia Wolf believed that it all begins with “your own room”, a defined space, even a small one, that has four walls and a door and is all yours; there you can recognize the dream, and be who you are. The women Mirit chose to paint also have a key phrase that leads them in life: “Go your way and leave the doubters behind” (Lior Finkel-Perl); “Put an anchor of ability within you” (Imi Eiron) and also more concise messages like that of Tamar Ish-Shalom: “Do not forget to breathe” or of the economist Karnit Flug, former governor of The Bank of Israel: “Economy is not everything.” How true. Mirit Ben-Nun dizzyingly integrates all of this into her private career, a colorful and spectacular painting, which ranges from Aboriginal diligence to feminist consciousness. Ben-Nun adorns the successful women with a tremendous abundance of colors and patterns, generously and with joy of life she wraps them with ‘mandorlas’ (almond-like shape), which surround each other and create “Babushkas”. Like the women, so do Ben-Nun’s models split unexpectedly, creating intersections and interchanges withing the painting, hinting at new paths. These successful, independent, opinionated women receive a gift from Mirit: they are raised to a level of energy rich in particles, but one that plants them in the heart of it all, they are both the citron and the nucleus. They are the smallest babushka, the princess.
Mirit Ben-Nun, an independent woman, who set out without support and without orderly studies, stubbornly made her own way, her own dream, added to her a parade of women, who like Einat Paz, think “better things happen to those who do”.
Tali Tamir
‘Your Own Dream’ is a modern Pop art style exhibit of paintings of women, by the feminine spirit of the artist, Mirit Ben-Nun. The painting series of the women was created and inspired by the book “Presence. Impact. Leadership”, and the majority of the women painted in the exhibit participate in this book by Dr. Efrat Liani, published by Kineret Zemorah Dvir.
Thanks to the generosity of a friend, and because of the sad death of a mutual one, I've been in receipt of a small collection of slides from the late '70s. Amongst them, following this afternoon's scanning activities, I came across this one of a York Pullman Roe bodied AEC Swift. I remember having a go at photographing this bus myself in the same era, but my own result wasn't nearly so successful ... in fact it was rubbish! So, thanks to Bob, here's the attractive machine (TDN 387H?) wearing its classic maroon, cream and yellow livery some time in 1978. The cigarette advert on the notice hoarding is also a thing of the past here in the UK.
Letter generously translated by Nettenscheider; penned in Frankfurt and addressed to Reservist Joseph Fritz serving with Feld-Artillerie Regiment Nr. 13 in Ulm. Postage cancelled on 27.12.1914.
The author of the letter „Friedrich“ is possibly the fellow on the left, the FAR 63 details on his shoulder-trap just discernible. The garrison for 2. Nassauisches Feldartillerie-Rgt Nr. 63 was located in Frankfurt, the same location the letter was authored and sent.
__________________________________________
Notes.
Feldartillerie-Regiment „König Karl“ (1. Württembergisches) Nr. 13 - Ulm.
2. Nassauisches Feldartillerie-Rgt Nr. 63 - Frankfurt.
Note on reverse generously translated by Kaïopai°, which indicates that these are French casualties from the December 1914 fighting near St Laurent (-Blangy).
"A dead man already eaten by rats".
Despite the gruesome scene, this photograph has been regularly appearing on online auction sites for as long as I can remember. It must have been one of the first mass-produced post-battle images of the war. On the reverse of another identical card, the men are identified as being from Kgl. Bayerisches Reserve-Infanterie-Regiment Nr. 1 and the location "bei Arras" which is about 4 km east of St Laurent-Blangy.
Divided reverse. Letter generously translated by xiphophilos: "This is what the beasts look like".
NCOs and men from an unidentified formation pose in front (and inside) a partially dismantled British Mk IV 'male' tank, F52 "Foam II" (2375). The tank broke down on 20 November 1917 during the Battle of Cambrai.
_____________________________________________
Notes:
F Bttn, 18 Coy, 11 sec, F52, 2Lt WA Paton - Attacked, engaged enemy, rallied. Attacked again then broke down.
The Hôtel de Crillon offers 25 Executive rooms, each with its own decor and color scheme. With generous spaces, elegant decorations and heated marble bathrooms. This bathroom is a reflection of luxury and elegance.
thanks to pete's generous gift, my kids will now have polaroids of themselves in their baby books.
i have a terrible scanner... lets just say it adds to the character.
VISITORS FROM WESTERN AUSTRALIA FOR AUSTRALIAN BLYTHE FEST - Laurinda Trio, Stacey Tara Trio and Helen 2T Margarett...
PictionID:44408357 - Title:Atlas 107D Details: Loading Mercury-Atlas 107D for Airlift to AMR Date: 03/09/1962 - Catalog:14_011972 - Filename:14_011972.TIF - - - - - - Image from the Convair/General Dynamics Astronautics Atlas Negative Collection. The processing, cataloging and digitization of these images has been made possible by a generous National Historical Publications and Records grant from the National Archives and Records Administration---Please Tag these images so that the information can be permanently stored with the digital file.---Repository: San Diego Air and Space Museum
Generosity comes in all shapes and sizes. Two days ago, on 30 July 2016, six of us from Calgary had the honour of meeting a 92-year-old gentleman who has lived most of his long life on a huge area (380 hectares, 939 acres) of beautiful land near Hanna, Alberta. Though Gottlob Schmidt (known as Schmitty) has now moved into town (Hanna), he is not far from his beloved land and still loves to spend a lot of time there. My friends and I understand why. This untouched land is not only beautiful to the eye, with its undulating hills with small, scattered pockets of woodland, but it also hides all sorts of natural treasures, including the wildlife that enjoys this native grassland. There are so few areas of native grassland left in Alberta, so each one is very precious. Schmitty told us that he has never seen his land looking so green! Perhaps not too surprising, as we have had so much rain recently, often accompanied by thunderstorms. In fact, the rain started on our return journey to Calgary and I was driving from our meeting place back to my house in torrential rain. I found a good scattering of small hailstones covering my lawn, too.
This is where the word 'generosity' comes in. Two years ago, Schmitty donated all his land to Alberta Parks, along with certain strict regulations (listed at a link below) on how the land was to be maintained. He was very warmly recognized for his extreme generosity. The Park is known as Antelope Hill Provincial Park and, when Schmitty is no longer able to visit and enjoy his old, family homestead, the Park will be opened to the public. For now, it remains his own, private property.
The highlight for us was meeting Schmitty himself. I can only hope that I might be lucky enough to be in half his shape if I ever reached that age! It was an absolute delight to spend a little time with this man with the big heart when we first arrived and again later in the day, when it was time for us to head back to Calgary. We also got to meet Schmitty's good neighbours, Donna and Ken.
www.albertaparks.ca/media/5788002/antelope-hill-pp-fact-s...
calgaryherald.com/news/local-news/you-can-thank-this-man-...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIVVBdkoUVY&feature=youtu.be
My friends (specialists in mosses, lichens and liverworts and other things) and I, were given permission to spend the day there, to list all our findings. Our time was spent climbing one main hill and walking part way around it, calling in at several of the small areas of woodland.
One of the highlights for me yesterday was seeing a patch of Amanita Muscaria (Fly Agaric) mushrooms. They were at various stages - for me, the earlier stage is the most exciting, when the mushroom has a round 'ball' cap, speckled with white flecks. It is quite rare that we come across one of these, and it is so exciting and such a treat when we do! They are so beautiful and amazing. Of course, it's just a "fungi nut" talking, ha. They are so attractive but also poisonous!
"A large conspicuous mushroom, Amanita muscaria is generally common and numerous where it grows, and is often found in groups with basidiocarps in all stages of development. Fly agaric fruiting bodies emerge from the soil looking like a white egg, covered in the white warty material of the universal veil... Amanita muscaria poisoning occurs in either young children or people ingesting it to have a hallucinogenic experience... A fatal dose has been calculated at an amount of 15 caps. Deaths from this fungus A. muscaria have been reported in historical journal articles and newspaper reports. However, with modern medical treatment a fatal outcome because of the poison of this mushroom would be extremely rare."
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amanita_muscaria
Various plants were good to see, too, including about four Prairie Crocuses that were still in bloom. I hadn't seen Skeletonweed for a long time, but there were quite a few small clusters of it. A new plant to me was a tall one with white flowers, that I still need to identify properly. The occasional gorgeous wild Rose made a bright splash of colour.
Of course, for me, any visit to a ranch would not be complete without wandering by any old barn/shed/cabin. I liked the texture of the old, weathered walls, and the old, glass doorknob on one of the sheds, seen in the next image.
On our return walk back to the cars, I suddenly spotted this huge, green caterpillar on the trail. I hadn't seen one of these for many years. I think it's some kind of Sphinx Moth caterpillar, but I was none the wiser after a quick Google search last night - need to try again. The horn is at the tail end, and the head end was trying to burrow into the soil. Thanks to Bostjan Dvorak for the ID - a pupating Sphinx vashti caterpillar.
After a few hours of exploration, the only things that we were so happy and relieved to leave behind were the mosquitoes! Never had I seen so many of them - the air was filled with these tiny, blood-sucking insects that followed us every step of the way!
Thanks so much, Heide, for driving Sandy and myself all the way out there - about a two and three-quarter hour drive. Much of the distance was on the same roads that I had driven last week with my daughter, but this was the first time I had ever been as far as Hanna and just beyond. Hanna now has a Tim Horton's, opened around three months ago : ) Thanks, Heide, too, for trying to find the old railway roundhouse - unfortunate that there was too much construction in the area, so one can't get to the roundhouse. And thank you so much, Peter, for arranging and organizing this wonderful trip! Most importantly of all, our thanks to Schmitty, who so kindly allowed us to share the special land that he has called home for so many decades. Our thanks for allowing us to spend the day there and, even more importantly, thank you for your great gift to all Albertans, with your incredibly generous donation of Antelope Hill Provincial Park.
Letter generously translated by xiphophilos; the author sends a photograph to his family in Königstein in Saxony. Einheitsstempel: K.u.k. 14/190. Feldkompagniekmdo. Zen.(suriert) Kom(pagnie). 3 Triest.
A small group of Austro-Hungarian soldiers - probably personnel attached to a field hospital, pose with a donkey-powered wagon. Despite being small and slow, these wagons were used as ambulances as well as used to transport medical supplies and equipment.
Also of note is the presence of two 'Berndorfer' helmets; a variation of the German Stahlhelm produced at the Krupp factory in Berndorf, Lower Austria. With only 140,000 produced one does not often encounter these helmets all too often.
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 Lettice’s oldest childhood chum, Gerald Bruton is visiting. Although also a member of the aristocracy Gerald’s fate is very different to Lettice’s. He has been forced to gain some independence from his rather impecunious family in order to make a living. Luckily his artistic abilities have led him to designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street, a business which, after promotion from Lettice and several commissions from high profile and influential society ladies, is finally beginning to turn a profit. The two are taking tea from Lettice’s beautiful and avant-garde Royal Doulton Falling Leaves tea set whilst they wait for Edith, Lettice’s maid, to prepare a light cold luncheon for them. Across the low black japanned coffee table between them is spread a long papyrus* scroll featuring beautiful and wonderfully colourful Egyptian hieroglyphic writing and images. Arriving in a wooden box also marked with hieroglyphs, it is one of two Lettice has in her possession.
“There really are remarkable, Lettice darling!” Gerald enthuses as he runs his hands with reverence across the fine fibrous paper. “And in such condition for something so ancient.”
Lettice looks across the table at her friend and laughs loudly.
“What’s so funny?” Gerald asks in innocent surprise, glancing up from the scroll at Lettice.
“Oh Gerald, you silly thing!” Lettice giggles, raising a dainty hand with prettily manicured nails to her smiling lips. “This isn’t a real Egyptian papyrus scroll! I know some of my clients can afford to have real papyri on their walls, but this is a very well executed imitation!”
“An imitation?” Gerald’s eyes grow wide. When Lettice nods, he goes on, “Well, it certainly is an excellent copy, I’d never have known.”
“It came from Lancelot de Vries antiques and curios shop in the Portobello Road**.” Lettice elucidates.
“Ahh,” Gerald murmurs, settling back in the comfortable white upholstered rounded back of Lettice’s tub armchair. “That explains it then. No wonder it’s so good. Old Lottie,” He casually uses a female nickname*** instead of the antique dealer’s real name, indicating that he knows Mr. de Vries well. “Is so incredibly talented that he could have made a successful career out of forging old masters, if he hadn’t decided to tow the straight and narrow and become an antiques and objet d'art dealer.”
“Gerald!” Lettice gasps.
“It’s true! Just look at the quality in this piece.” He waves his hand expansively towards the unfurled scroll. “I could have sworn it was the genuine article.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, Gerald darling, but I don’t fancy spending the money on a real papyrus scroll from ancient Egypt just to hang on a wall until this Tutmaina**** craze ends.”
“So, this isn’t for you then, Lettice darling?”
“No. I’m taking this on approval from Mr. de Vries, who just received a shipment of them. He’s selling them in his shop. They race out the door quicker than you can say knife, apparently. I’m going to show these to Mrs. Hatchett and see whether she would like an Egyptian themed reception room.”
“Knowing Dolly Hatchett as well as I do, and knowing just how much she admires you and your taste,” Gerald opines. “I think something more oriental,” He waves his hands around Lettice’s drawing room, indicating to her Chinoiserie furniture, her Japanese screen and her Chinese ceramics. “Will appeal to her more.”
“But she gave be carte blanche to decorate her suite of rooms as I see fit, Gerald.”
“Then why are you asking her for her opinion?” Gerald looks at his best friend with a knowing look. He doesn’t wait for a reply from her. “I’ll tell you why. Because you know that even though she made you that promise, she will want to be consulted. This is a bigger project than ‘The Gables,” He refers to the Hatchetts’ Sussex house in Rotherfield and Mark Cross which Lettice partially redecorated in 1922. “This is all about promoting Charles Hatchett’s power and influence as an MP. Dolly won’t want to set a foot wrong. She knows she can’t afford to as much for her own sake as for Charles’. She has been a social pariah, relegated as the pretty flibbertigibbet Gaiety Girl***** from the chorus line of ‘Chu-Chin-Chow’****** who dared to look beyond her class and marry a successful banker with political aspirations. Now she is a successful MP’s wife, so she needs to show that she has impeccable taste, even if the taste really isn’t her own.”
Lettice sighs heavily. “You’re right Gerald darling. It’s true”
“Of course I’m right.” Gerald picks up his cup of tea and takes a sip from it. “However, I also know that as such an arbiter of what is fashionable, if you told Dolly Hatchett that you wanted to paint her reception room violent purple with green polka dots because it was the height of fashion, she’d let you, even if she hated it.”
“You know I would never do that to anyone, Gerald darling.” Lettice takes up her own cup of tea from the edge of the table which houses her telephone and a vase of fresh red roses from her fiancée, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.
“I know.” he assures her.
The movement near to them, brings Gerald’s attention to the roses. Nodding at them, he asks, “Are those from your intended?”
Lettice looks at the fat blooms with their rich red velvety petals which are dispersed with fluffy white pompoms of Gypsophila****** and considers them, as if seeing them for the first time. “Yes.” she replies rather flatly.
Old enough to be her father, Lettice is engaged to be married to wealthy Sir John Nettleford-Huges. His engagement to Lettice came as something of a surprise to London society as he was always considered to be a confirmed old bachelor, and according to whispered upper-class gossip intended to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. After an abrupt ending to her understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son and heir to the title Duke of Walmsford, Lettice in a moment of both weakness and resolve, agreed to the proposal of marriage proffered to her by Sir John. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them.
“What of them?” Lettice goes on.
“Oh nothing.” Gerald remarks dismissively with an air of laissez-faire********. “I was just wondering.”
“I’ve known you all my life, Gerrald darling.” Lettice shakes her head and looks seriously at her best friend. “You were doing more than wondering. What is it? Come on. Spit it out!”
“Well, it’s just that when I was visiting Cyril at Hattie’s recently, Hattie showed me a book that had belonged to her mother. It’s called Floral Symbolica*********. She thought I might like to read it because it discusses the meaning of flowers, so that when I gave Cyril a bouquet of blooms, it would express my love for him.”
“And?” Lettice smiles.
“Well, dark red roses like those, are supposed to represent a more sophisticated and serious affection than a bright red rose, expressing eternal love, loyalty, and a heartfelt devotion.”
“And?”
“Oh look!” Gerald sighs sadly. “There’s no nice way for me to tell you this, but Cyril is friends with Paula Young, who I know is your intended’s latest conquest.”
Lettice’s heart begins to race at the mention of the young and pretty West End actress’ name. With a slight tremor, she lowers her teacup back into its saucer. “I know that too, Gerald darling. You know I do. John has been very forthright and honest about that facet of his life, and I know he won’t stop.”
“Well, Cyril knows about it too, and of course he knows through me that you and Sir John are engaged to be married.”
Lettice gulps as a shudder runs through her and she feels the blood drain from her face. “But how does he know about Miss Young and John?”
“Through Miss Young herself, I assume. From what Cyril’s mentioned about her, she is something of a parvenu, and she is rather indiscreet about her discretions. He told me as much the other night when I stayed with him at Hattie’s.”
“Oh no!” Lettice gasps, raising her hands to her cheeks which suddenly feel hot to the touch as they fill with embarrassed colour. “But Cyril is coming to Sylvia’s weekend house party now, and so are John and I! Oh Gerald!” Tears well in her eyes and threaten to spill over.
Gerald immediately thrusts his cup noisily back into its saucer and leaps up with sudden urgency. He scuttles around the low coffee table and wraps his arms around Lettice, pulling her to his chest as the tears start to spill from her sparkling blue eyes.
“Don’t worry, dear Lettice.” Gerald assures her. “I’ve spoken to him. I’ve told Cyril in no uncertain terms that he can’t mention that he knows anything about Sir John’s and Miss Young’s liaison to anyone, especially at the party, and that he is to keep mum**********.”
“Oh Gerald!” Lettice sobs. “John promised me that he would never do anything to shame me in public as far as his…” She intakes a large gulp of air. “His dalliances.”
“Well,” Gerald says in defence of Sir John, gently chuckling sadly as he strokes Lettice’s back comfortingly through her French blue cardigan***********. “I suppose he doesn’t imagine that you would ever know a poor West End musician who just happens to be a friend of sorts with his latest flame.”
Lettice sniffs and pulls a clean and freshly laundered lace trimmed handkerchief from the left-hand sleeve of her cardigan and dabs at her eyes and nose, as Gerald crouches down in front of her, so that he can look her squarely in the face.
“He won’t, will he?” She sniffs again.
“Cyril?” Gerald asks. When Lettice nods shallowly he goes on, “No of course he won’t. I know that he may not be the most discreet of people, but I really have made it perfectly clear to him how important it is that he doesn’t let on about any of it. For all his faults, he likes you very much, Lettice, and he’d never want to embarrass or hurt you.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” Lettice gulps again.
“Of course I am, Lettuce Leaf!” he replies, using his childhood nickname for her, which he knows she hates, in order to try and break her moment of worry by introducing a note of levity.
“Don’t call me that Gerald! You know how I hate it!” she replies.
“That’s better.” Gerald smiles. “Now dry those eyes. Luncheon will be ready soon, and you don’t want to sit at the table all red and puffy eyed, do you?”
Just at that moment, Lettice’s Bakelite************ and chrome telephone starts to ring and jangle on the small side table next to her.
BBBBRRRINGGG!
Both Lettice and Gerald glance with startled eyes at it in alarm, as though it has overheard their conversation and has an opinion of its own to express.
BBBBRRRINGGG!
Lettice sniffs and takes a deep intake of breath. “I suppose it would be rather awful of me to expect Edith to answer the telephone when I’m right alongside it, wouldn’t it?”
“Beastly, Lettice darling!” Gerald replies.
BBBBRRRINGGG!
“You know how she feels about that ‘infernal contraption’,” Gerald goes on quoting Lettice’s maid’s name for the telephone. “If you must irritate her, please do so after she’s served us luncheon. I don’t know about you, but I can barely boil a kettle, never mind cook a meal.”
BBBBRRRINGGG!
Gerald pauses and considers something. “Then again, maybe you should make her answer it. She might get so upset by having to do so, that she’ll hand in her notice.”
BBBBRRRINGGG!
Lettice sniffs again and dabs her eyes for good measure as she goes to lift the receiver.
“And, if she does give notice,” Gerald quickly adds as Lettice grasps the receiver. “I’ll hire Edith as a seamstress for my atelier. Her talents as a needlewoman are wasted here.”
“Not a chance!” Lettice replies defiantly. “She’s coming with me, not going with you.”
BBBBRRR…
Lettice picks up the handset out of its gleaming chrome cradle mid ring, causing the shrill jingle of the telephone to stop and quickly peter out.
“Mayfair 432,” Lettice announces in clearly enunciated syllables.
As Gerald returns to his tub chair, he can hear a deep male voice resonate from somewhere down the line, recognising them as Sir John’s tones, not that he can make out the words. The shock of knowing the man he and Lettice were just talking about is on the other end of the telephone call makes him freeze for a moment as a shiver runs up his spine.
“John darling!” Lettice exclaims almost a little too jovially. “How are you?” She listens to the response. “Oh, that’s good. Are we still having dinner at Le Bienvenue************* tonight?” She listens again. “Oh hoorah. Jolly good.” Sir John’s voice speaks again at the other end of the line, his tone serious. At length he pauses. “Oh no! Oh, poor Clemance. I must pay a call upon her then and do some sick visiting.” Sir John speaks up urgently. “Oh very well John. I won’t.” He speaks again. “No of course, John darling. You’re quite right. I don’t want to get sick before Sylvia’s party. I’ll telephone the Regent Street Flower Box directly and arrange for Monsieur Blanchet to send her a lovely bunch of flowers to brighten her day. You know Gerald and I were just talking about the meaning of flowers, John darling.” Sir John speaks again. “Yes. Yes, he’s here. We’re about to have luncheon, so I can’t speak for too long.” Lettice listens again. “Yes… yes… what about the party?” Sir John’s voice drones on, too indistinctly for Gerald to hear anything, and he feigns that he is not paying attention by looking down at his well manicured nails and rubbing them as if trying to buff them with the pads of his fingers on the opposite hand. “Oh.” Lettice sighs and her shoulders slump. “You want to ask her then do you?” Sir John speaks again. “Oh you did, John dear?” He mumbles something else. “She did? That was very kind of Sylvia to consider me like that.” There is more indistinct chatter at the other end of the telephone line. “Well,” Lettice tries to muffle a resigned sigh. “Well, if you feel you must, then I suppose you must.” Sir John’s voice seems to perk a little and he sounds less dour. “No. No, I don’t mind. Of course I don’t, especially if it will make you happy, dear John.” Gerald can see a light dim in her eyes. “Very well. Alright…” she falters for a moment and gulps. “I’ll see you at eight then.” she adds a little too brightly. “Yes, goodbye then.”
Lettice hangs the handset back on the cradle, the action causing the telephone to utter a single echoing ting as she does. She stares ahead of her, but her look is blank, suggesting that she sees nothing.
“What was that all about?” Gerald asks in concern as he looks at Lettice’s suddenly wan face.
“It was just John.” Lettice replies flatly.
“Yes, I could gather that, Lettice darling. What did he say?”
“Clemance is sick in bed with a nasty head cold. The doctor has told her to stay abed and keep warm to avoid it going to her lungs, so she won’t be coming to ‘The Nest’ now.”
“Oh, that is a pity. I was so looking forward to meeting Sir John’s sister. You speak of Mrs. Pontefract so highly.”
“So now, since Clemance isn’t coming,” Lettice continues, speaking as though she hasn’t heard Gerald talk. “He’s decided to invite Paula Young to come and spend the weekend with us.”
“What?” Gerald sits bolt upright in his seat.
“Yes. He asked Sylvia if she would mind, since she knows about his affair with Miss Young, and he feels that the rarified artistic company in attendance will be quite fine with his little arrangement of having both his fiancée and his mistress in the same house at the same time.”
“And what did Sylvia say to that?”
“Well, Sylvia is a bit of a free spirit when it comes to the sanctity of marriage, and matters of love and lust. She said she didn’t mind if he did ask Miss Young to join him, but only under the proviso that John asked me and got my permission first.”
“Which you evidently granted.” Gerald replies in breathless disbelief.
“I did.” Lettice replies flatly.
“You could have said no, Lettice. You should have said no!”
“Oh, how could I, Gerald darling?”
“Very simply.” he replies, folding his arms akimbo over his muted toned Fair Isle jumper************** and looking sternly at his best friend. “No darling, I’m sorry but you can’t invite that trollop*************** you share your bed with most nights to Miss Fordyce’s party.”
“I can’t Gerald darling.” Lettice defends.
“Well, I think you can. Just telephone him back right now. Where is he? Belgravia? His club?”
“He’s at home in Belgravia.”
“Well then, telephone him immediately and just tell him you’ve had a change of heart, and that no, Miss Young can’t come to the party at ‘The Nest’.”
“It’s not that simple, Gerald darling.” Lettice tries to explain, attempting to speak whilst using all her power to prevent herself from crying again. “This engagement is complex. John doesn’t want jealousy in his relationships. He certainly doesn’t want a jealous wife. He told me from the start that he has no intention of desisting from his dalliances, and that if I said yes to his proposal, I must accept him on those terms. He’ll be furious if I tell him no, now. It will be like me flying in the face of everything I agreed to when I said yes to him.”
“You don’t actually have to go through with it, you know, Lettice darling?”
“What? Going to stay with Sylvia at ‘The Nest’? I can’t Gerald darling! She’s throwing this party to show off her new feature wall. I’m her guest of honour. I can’t possibly withdraw so late in the piece, and with no real reason to decline. It would be rude, and undignified.”
“No, Lettice!” Gerald replies dourly. “I mean, you don’t have to go through with the marriage to Sir John. You are perfectly entitled to break it off, if you feel so inclined.”
“And risk the fury of Mater?” Lettice looks at Gerald in alarm and shakes her head vehemently. “No thank you! I think I’d rather put up with a hundred Miss Youngs than Mater in a black mood over my lack of securing an eligible husband! All the time she is investing in wedding plans. If it is all for naught, she will be fit to be tied! She sent me a clipping from the Wiltshire Times and Trowbridge Advertiser**************** a few weeks ago.”
“Why? What did it say?”
“Jonty Hastings is getting married.”
“Howley Hastings is getting married?” Gerald guffaws, using the childhood nickname given Jonty Hastings by he, Lettice and the other children of the big houses in the district who used to play with him, because of his propensity to cry whenever he was teased about anything. “Who’d want to marry Howley Hastings?”
“Sarah Frobisher apparently, according to the article.” Lettice replies.
“Sarah Frobisher? Sarah Frobisher?” Gerald ruminates, rolling the name around his mouth and off his tongue as he considers where he has heard that name before. “Wasn’t she that rather horsey looking niece of the Miss Evanses?” He refers to the two elderly genteel gossipy spinster sisters who live in Holland House, a Seventeenth Century manor house, in Glynes village at the foot of Lettice’s and his family estates in Wiltshire. “You know, the gawky one with protruding teeth and spectacles who always laughed nervously whenever a boy spoke to her. Her father was in trade*****************. Yes, the Frobisher Clothing Mills in Trowbridge.”
“Yes, I think that’s her.”
“Well, those two deserve each other then, if you ask me, if she’s still as gawky now as she was when we were children. They can dance the Wibbly Wobbly Walk***************** together into the happily ever after, and good riddance to them both.”
“Oh! That’s cruel, Gerald. Don’t be beastly!” Lettice chides her best friend sharply. “You aren’t a spiteful person.”
“Well,” Gerald mumbles contritely. “You have to admit that Howley can’t dance. Think about your poor trampled feet the last time you had to dance with him. Why on earth did Sadie send you a clipping about Howley marrying that Frobisher creature?”
“I think to highlight the fact that another one of the few eligible bachelors she was able to find to invite to her 1922 husband hunting Hunt Ball for me is no longer eligible. Pickings are slim.”
“All I am saying, Lettice darling,” Gerald goes on kindly. “Is that, slim pickings or not, if you’re not going to be happy in the end, I happen to think that marrying Sir John is a mistake. An unhappy and loveless marriage isn’t worth it.”
“Now don’t you start too, Gerald!” Lettice quips. “I have enough problems with Margot and Dickie trying to dissuade me from marrying John. Even Cilla seems lukewarm about the idea, and John’s almost like an honourary uncle to her.”
“I’m not!” Gerald defends, holding up his palms. “I only said ‘if’. If has a great deal of meaning and implication for such a tiny word, you know. For example: if however, you think you will be happy with your lot in life with Sir John, marry him. As I have said to you before, I cannot even marry the person I love.”
“Oh yes, how foolish of me.” Lettice replies. “Forgive me for wallowing.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Lettice darling. You’re my best friend! I only want you to be happy.”
“Thank you, Gerald darling.” Lettice replies gratefully. “Meanwhile, now you can tell your Cyril that he won’t need to bite his tongue and keep his own counsel quite so much, if Miss Young is going to be at ‘The Nest’. John will be all over her, I’m sure. And if he isn’t, from what I can gather from John, she certainly will be.”
“Well,” Gerald sighs. “That will certainly enliven what is already going to be a rather lively weekend, I suspect.”
At that moment, Edith walks into the drawing room.
“Luncheon is served, Miss.” she announces with a bob curtsey.
“Thank you, Edith.” Lettice says gratefully.
“Yes, thank you Edith.” Gerald adds. “It’s good of you to feed me at such short notice.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble, Sir.” Edith replies with a beaming smile, thankful at Gerald’s recognition of her efforts. “It’s always a pleasure to have you at Cavendish Mews.”
As Lettice and Gerald both stand, and Edith turns to go, Gerald stops her. “By the way, Edith?”
“Yes Sir?” she asks, stopping and looking back at him.
“How’s your sewing going?”
“My sewing, Sir?” Edith asks, perplexed.
“Gerald!” Lettice cautions her friend.
“Yes, your frock making. Have you made anything new lately?”
“Oh,” Edith replies with a happy sigh and a smile. “It’s going well, thank you for asking, Sir, especially since Mrs. Boothby’s so…” She quickly swallows the word son, as she isn’t sure whether Lettice knows that the old Cockney charwoman****************** who comes to Cavendish Mews from Poplar every few days to help Edith with the harder housekeeping jobs, has a son, never mind a disabled one. “Found me a sewing machine. Now I don’t have to go to my Mum’s to do any sewing or alterations. I can do them here in my room.”
“Very good Edith. And have you made anything lately?” Gerald persists. “A new frock, perhaps?”
“Oh no, Sir.” Edith replies. “But I did make myself a lovely new white blouse with a Peter Pan collar******************* and black buttons a month ago now. I wear it on my days off quite a bit at the moment.”
“Well,” Lettice says breezily with a sigh. “That’s all very interesting, Edith, but Mr. Bruton and I have held you up and away from your chores long enough. You may go. We can serve ourselves since it’s just a casual cold luncheon for two today, so there is no need for you to wait table.”
“Yes, Miss. Very good, Miss.” Edith bobs another curtsey and scuttles away through the adjoining dining room and disappears through the green baize door that leads to the service area of the flat.
“Spoil sport.” Gerald mutters.
“I told you, Gerald.” Lettice repeats. “Edith isn’t for turning. When I get married, she’ll be coming with me.”
“I don’t think she’ll fancy being buried in the Wiltshire Downs, Lettice darling.”
“Perhaps not, Gerald darling, but I think she’ll quite enjoy an elevated position as housekeeper of John’s and my Belgravia townhouse after I become Lady Nettleford-Hughes.”
“You are positively Machiavellian sometimes, Lettice darling.” Gerald concedes in defeat as he proffers Lettice his arm.
The two walk out of the Cavendish Mews drawing room and into the dining room, where a cold luncheon of galantine of fowl******************** with a fresh garden salad await them on the dining room table.
*Papyrus paper is called papyrus, named after the Cyperus papyrus plant from which it is made. The word "papyrus" itself refers to both the plant and the writing material created from its stems. Documents written on this material are also referred to as papyri.
**Portobello Road Market in Notting Hill, London, is a world-famous street market known for its antiques, vintage clothing, and diverse food stalls. It's one of London's oldest markets, dating back to the Nineteenth Century. The market stretches along Portobello Road, from Westbourne Grove to Golborne Road, and is particularly vibrant on Saturdays.
***Historically, queer slang emerged as a way for queer people to communicate discreetly, forming a sense of community and shared identity. Using female names or terms could be a way to signal belonging within this coded language. It was also used for protection, allowing homosexual men to talk about one another discreetly in public without the implication of homosexuality and the repercussions that came with it as a criminal act.
****Tutmania was a worldwide media frenzy and cultural obsession that followed the 1922 discovery of King Tutankhamun's tomb by Howard Carter and his team, sparking a popular fad for ancient Egyptian art, design, and culture in the Western world and a resurgence of national pride in Egypt itself. Egyptian motifs appeared on clothes, jewellery, hairstyles, fabrics, furniture and in architecture, and it helped solidify the Art Deco movement of design with its clean lines. The discovery of the tomb itself was one of the most significant archaeological finds of the Twentieth Century, made the previously lesser-known pharaoh one of the most famous figures in history.
*****Gaiety Girls were the chorus girls in Edwardian musical comedies, beginning in the 1890s at the Gaiety Theatre, London, in the shows produced by George Edwardes.
******‘Chu Chin Chow’ is a musical comedy written, produced and directed by Oscar Asche, with music by Frederic Norton, based on the story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. It was the most popular show in London’s West End during the Great War. It premiered at His Majesty’s Theatre in London on the 3rd of August 1916 and ran for 2,238 performances, a record number that stood for nearly forty years!
*******Gypsophila, known commonly as Baby’s Breath, is a genus of flowering plants in the carnation family. They are native to Eurasia, Africa, Australia, and the Pacific Islands. Turkey has a particularly high diversity of Gypsophila, with about thirty-five endemic species. Some Gypsophila are introduced species in other regions.
********Laissez-faire is the policy of leaving things to take their own course, without interfering.
*********‘Floral Symbolica; or, The Language and Sentiment of Flowers’ is a book written by John Ingram, published in London in 1870 by Frederick Warne and Co. who are perhaps best known for publishing the books of Beatrix Potter. ‘Flora Symbolica; or, The language and Sentiment of Flowers’ includes meanings of many species of flowers, both domestic and exotic, as well as floral poetry, original and selected. It contains a colour frontispiece and fifteen colour plates, printed in colours by Terry. John Henry Ingram (November the 16th, 1842 – February the 12th, 1916) was an English biographer and editor with a special interest in Edgar Allan Poe. Ingram was born at 29 City Road, Finsbury Square, Middlesex, and died at Brighton, England. His family lived at Stoke Newington, recollections of which appear in Poe's works. J. H. Ingram dedicated himself to the resurrection of Poe's reputation, maligned by the dubious memoirs of Rufus Wilmot Griswold; he published the first reliable biography of the author and a four-volume collection of his works.
**********We usually associate the term “to keep mum” with the Second World War, when it was a byline used on posters to dissuade gossip and the inadvertent sharing of vitally confidential for the war effort with fifth-columnists. However, the word "mum" meaning to be silent, not to speak, first appeared in William Langland's Fourteenth Century poem Piers Plowman, though the full phrase "mum's the word" gained popularity in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth centuries. The word itself is onomatopoeic, derived from the "mmm" sound made by a closed mouth.
***********French blue is a sophisticated, deep blue colour that is characterized by its muted quality, subtle violet or grey undertones, and a rich, smoky depth, reminiscent of classical French design, the Mediterranean sky, or the deep blue uniforms of historical French soldiers.
************Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.
*************Le Bienvenue is the former name of L'Escargot, which is London's oldest French restaurant. Georges Gaudin opened Le Bienvenue at the bottom of Greek Street in Soho in 1896. He became famous for serving snails, and was reportedly the first in England to do so. Le Bienvenue even featured a snail farm in its basement, a unique talking point for customers. In 1927, two years after this story is set, Gaudin moved to larger premises at 48 Greek Street, the current location, in a Georgian townhouse built in 1741 which was once the private residence of the Duke of Portland and a pastoral getaway in what was then a rural part of London. When he moved, patrons of the restaurant encouraged him to rename it after his most popular dish, leading to the name L'Escargot.
**************Fair Isle is a traditional knitting style used to create patterns with multiple colours. It is named after Fair Isle, one of the Shetland Islands. Fair Isle knitting gained popularity when the Prince of Wales (later King Edward VIII) wore Fair Isle jumpers in public in 1921. Traditional Fair Isle patterns have a limited palette of five or so colours, use only two colours per row, are worked in the round, and limit the length of a run of any particular colour.
***************The term "trollop" was introduced in the early 1600s, with the earliest known evidence of its use appearing in the writings of George Wither in 1615. The term, a noun, was already established in the English language by that time.
****************The Wiltshire Times and Trowbridge Advertiser is weekly newspaper which serves the towns of west Wiltshire, including Trowbridge. Printed in Trowbridge it was established in 1854 by Benjamin Lansdown, as The Trowbridge and Wiltshire Advertiser. Benjamin was born in Trowbridge and was the son of a woollen mill employee but this was not the path he wished to follow and he was apprenticed as a printer alongside Mr John Sweet. He bought a hard press and second-hand typewriter before starting his own newspaper, along with establishing his own stationery shop in Silver Street around 1860. He moved the business into 15 Duke Street around 1876. Duke Street became home to the impressive R. Hoe & Co printing press that allowed printers to use continuous rolls of paper, instead of individual sheets, to speed up the process and countless copies of the newspaper rolled off the press at Duke Street for many years. The newspaper was based there for more than one hundred years and the business remained within the Lansdown family for generations until it was finally sold in the early 1960s. Over the years in had various names including The Trowbridge and North Wiltshire Advertiser from 1860 until 1880, The Wiltshire Times and Trowbridge Advertiser from 1880 until 1949, The Wiltshire Times between 1950 and 1962 and The Wiltshire Times & News between 1962 and 1963. It then became known as the Wiltshire Times – the banner it holds today. In 2019, the Wiltshire Times and its sister paper the Gazette & Herald moved to offices on the White Horse Business Park in North Bradley, stating that its Duke Street building was no longer fit for purpose. These offices later closed in 2020 as the three Covid-19 pandemic lockdowns struck. The Wiltshire times is still serving the local community both in a paper and an online format with a small team of journalists who passionately believe in the value of good trusted journalism and providing in-depth local news coverage.
****************The term to be “in trade” most commonly means engaging in commercial activity, such as regularly buying, selling, or offering goods or services as part of a business. It can also refer to the goods themselves (stock-in-trade) kept by a business for sale, or a characteristic skill or behaviour consistently used in a particular line of work. Used as a slur by the British upper-classes, “in trade” implied that because a man had to work for his living, even if he was a steel magnate or something equally successful, he was not as good as, and would never be a gentleman, who traditionally did not work to earn money. Money and money talk was considered vulgar by the upper-classes. A man who was “in trade” would never marry the daughter of an aristocrat or member of the landed gentry.
*****************‘They All Walk the Wibbly Wobbly Walk’ is a song written by Paul Pelham and J. P. Long sung by the famous British music hall performer Mark Sheridan in 1912. It was a song often sung during the Great War, and associated by the British general public with the survivors of the conflict who trembled due to shell shock or had misshapen walks thanks to injuries inflicted upon them.
******************A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.
*******************A Peter Pan collar is a style of clothing collar, flat in design with rounded corners. It is named after the collar of Maude Adams's costume in her 1905 role as Peter Pan, although similar styles had been worn before this date. Peter Pan collars were particularly fashionable during the 1920s and 1930s.
********************A galantine of fowl is a traditional French cold dish made from a deboned fowl, typically chicken, which is stuffed with a forcemeat (a mixture of ground meats and other ingredients), then rolled into a cylindrical shape, and poached in stock. It is served cold, often coated in a clear, gelatinous aspic, and can be elaborately decorated with ingredients like pistachios, truffles, and vegetables.
This 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The boxed and unboxed Egyptian papyrus scrolls you see on Lettice’s black japanned coffee table are 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Famed for his books, Ken Blythe also made other miniature artisan pieces from paper, including these scrolls, which can be fully wound out to reveal Egyptian hieroglyphics. To make a pieces as authentic as this makes them true artisan pieces. Most of the Ken Blythe books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words of the titles, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, and a great many pieces from his daughter from his estate. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
Lettice’s tea set sitting on the coffee table is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era called “Falling Leaves”.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples.
The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.
The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
What a kind and generous thing to do for me, but, not surprising because you are always so very generous, kind and lovely, not only in your words but your photos as well. Please, if any of you get the opportunity, visit Nancy's stream. She has a such a talent to capture all that she sees in beautiful ways. Below is the link to her photostream.
Explored 11/10/08 #400
Letter generously translated by Immanuel Voigt; penned on 30.08.1915, the author writes;
"The funeral of the two English flyers which our Corps commander v. Francois [General der Infanterie Hermann von François] took part. You can see him standing alone in his turned down coat. To the right behind the tree is our Division commander, of which to the right is our Regimental commander and the like, our Brigade commander."
The honour guard is being provided by men of Infanterie-Regiment „Graf Bülow von Dennewitz“ (6. Westfälisches) Nr. 55.