Special offer for Saturday sale

 

20 different colors

 

Singles - 50L

Fatpack - 499L

 

★ For Maitreya Lara - Belleza Freya - Slink Hourglass★

★ Singles and Fatpack ★

 

★ Original creation ★

★ Try demo before purchasing ★

 

LM for Mainstore

 

I haven't had a photoshoot in a long while and, consequently, I got a bit carried away...

Aston Martin Residences offer breathtaking views of the Miami River, Biscayne Bay, and Brickell skyline. Additionally, Aston Martin Residences will be within walking distance of Whole Foods, Brickell City Centre, and Mary Brickell Village.

 

​Aston Martin’s design team will design the building’s interior common spaces including the two private lobbies, the two-level fitness center with ocean views, and a full-service spa among other shared spaces within the development.

 

Each of the building’s common areas will feature “signature items” showcasing the car brand’s trademark colors, stitching style, and materials—from polished wood and supple leather to carbon fiber with an emphasis on comfort.

 

Credit for the data above is given to the following websites:

www.emporis.com/buildings/1386750/aston-martin-residences...

www.paraninternational.com/new-development/aston-martin

 

© All Rights Reserved - you may not use this image in any form without my prior permission.

 

The Ravennaschlucht in Germany's Black Forest offers waterfalls and scenic hikes.

 

If you like my work, please feel free to check out my website at Imagine Your World and galleries on Fine Art America and Redbubble. Thank you for visiting me on Flickr!

Last night offered a nice view of the conjunction of the young crescent moon and the planet Mercury in the western skies of the Northern Latitudes. Mars was also visible, although higher above the moon. You can see some stars of the constellation Cetus just to the right of the moon. The ½ second exposure was just enough to bring out the Earthshine on the moon.

Tech Specs: Canon 6D, Canon EF70-200mm f/2.8L USM lens, tripod mounted. ½ second exposure at ISO 640, f/2.8, 140mm. Imaging was done on March 29, 2017 from Weatherly, Pennsylvania.

 

My very lovely friend Tiffany Michelle Lloyd very kindly offered to use her skills to improve my rather scratchy, spotted old photos and she did a wonderful job with them. I thought it would be nice to re-post them one at a time and add a few notes.

 

This one was taken probably in the late 1970s or perhaps very early 80s. Back then there was no internet and it was terribly lonely for girls like me. Our only real outlet here in the UK were magazines and my favourite was World of Transvestism, which I am sure many of you UK ladies will remember.

At this time I lived with my mother but I still found times when I could dress up and be Elaine. I took these photos using an SLR camera and then developed and printed them myself to avoid taking them to the local chemist, which could have been embarrassing.

 

My outfit was very much the fashion at the time wearing a sweet pussy bow blouse with puffed sleeves and a fishtail skirt. I remember dreaming and wishing I could wear clothes like this each day and work in an office in the city being one of the girls and surrounded by nice male colleagues. I can't remember whether I thought of myself as a real girl or as an accepted Tgirl.

I do remember that I was very shy and quiet at the time though, and so loved dressing as a girl.

 

Anyway I shall post more soon.

Thank you again Tiffany! x

 

Keep safe everyone x

.:* SL Frees & Offers *:.

 

Credits/Blog: slfreeworldforall.blogspot.com.es/2015/05/o-japanese-airs...

FB: www.facebook.com/BethesaH

 

Fantasy Fair 2015 Event

FAMESHED

EVENT@1ST

EVA - Eden of Virtual Arts

 

Slink / [White~Widow] / 7 Deadly s{K}ins / /Wasabi Pills/ / [SAKIDE] / :adoness: / Glaze / :Diamante

Eternal Dream Poses

 

Place: Yanagi

on the back of the postcard:

Souvenir de Corse

Bonifacio

Segaia offers African sunsets and stunning views of a dam on your doorstep - a watering-place where Zebra, Kudu, Impala, warthog and the odd leopard come to drink. Birdlife is prolific, as are large numbers of frogs, both of which treat visitors to their songs. One of the jewels of northern Gauteng, Segaia Bush Retreat offers an escape to the magic of the bush that reminds of areas far more remote. It is the perfect getaway for weary, ‘traffic-jammed’ city dwellers who do not want to spend hours on the road to get to a weekend destination, but require an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity combined with fresh air.

Info source URL: www.sa-venues.com/visit/segaiabushretreat/

=========

The photo was taken during 2018-08 at Segaia Bush Retreat, Buffelsdrift, Gauteng, South Africa.

University Canada West-UCW, is an innovative business and technology-oriented institution located in the heart of vibrant Vancouver. Established in 2004, UCW offers a range of career-focused programs including the Bachelor of Commerce, Bachelor of Arts in Business Communication, Associate of Arts and Master of Business Administration. Courses are offered at our two downtown Vancouver campuses and online too. Offering courses online brings flexibility to education, allowing those who may not have otherwise had the opportunity to gain respected qualifications. UCW Vancouver is a University with a clear vision—to be a leading, respected independent University in Canada and abroad, known for innovation and effectiveness in preparing motivated students for professional-level careers and societal leadership. UCW Vancouver’s learning environment is dynamic and practical.

 

The City of Vancouver is a coastal, seaport city on the mainland of British Columbia. Located on the western half of the Burrard Peninsula, Vancouver is bounded to the north by English Bay and the Burrard Inlet and to the south by the Fraser River. It has an area of 114 square kilometers (44 square miles) with a population of 631,486 (according to the 2016 census. Vancouver is the largest city in British Columbia, and the eighth largest municipality in Canada; the Greater Vancouver metropolitan area (which includes neighboring cities such as Burnaby, Richmond, and Surrey) is the third largest in Canada. The coordinates: 49° 15' 39.14\" N, 123° 6' 50.23\" W measure from the City Hall. It has the Pacific time zone: GMT -8 as part of the Pacific maritime ecozone and has a huge and famous park called Stanley Park is one of the largest urban parks in North America. A very diverse city with a very high standard of living is also one of the most expensive cities in the world and for sure the most expensive one in North America. It is a beautiful city with water and forest and flowers all over.

 

A cidade de Vancouver é uma cidade costeira e portuária da Colúmbia Britânica, no Canadá. Localizada na metade ocidental da Península Burrard, Vancouver é delimitada ao norte pela English Bay e pela Burrard Inlet e ao sul pelo rio Fraser. Tem uma área de 114 quilômetros quadrados (44 milhas quadradas) com uma população de 631.486 (de acordo com o censo de 2016. Vancouver é a maior cidade da Colúmbia Britânica e o oitavo maior município do Canadá; a área metropolitana da Grande Vancouver (que inclui cidades vizinhas como Burnaby, Richmond e Surrey) é a terceira maior do Canadá. As coordenadas: 49° 15' 39.14\" N, 123° 6' 50.23\" W medem da Prefeitura. Tem o fuso horário do Pacífico : GMT -8 faz parte da ecozona marítima do Pacífico e tem um enorme e famoso parque chamado Stanley Park é um dos maiores parques urbanos da América do Norte. Uma cidade muito diversificada com um alto padrão de vida sendo também uma das mais caras cidades do mundo e com certeza a mais cara da América do Norte, é uma bela cidade com água e floresta e flores por toda parte.

 

La ciudad de Vancouver es una ciudad portuaria costera en la parte de tierra firma de la Columbia Británica. Ubicada en la mitad occidental de la península de Burrard, Vancouver limita al norte con English Bay y Burrard Inlet y al sur con el río Fraser. Tiene un área de 114 kilómetros cuadrados (44 millas cuadradas) con una población de 631,486 (según el censo de 2016). Vancouver es la ciudad más grande de la Columbia Británica y el octavo municipio más grande de Canadá; el área metropolitana del Gran Vancouver (que incluye ciudades vecinas como Burnaby, Richmond y Surrey) es la tercera más grande de Canadá. Las coordenadas: 49° 15' 39.14\" N, 123° 6' 50.23\" W miden desde el Ayuntamiento. Tiene la zona horaria del Pacífico : GMT -8 como parte de la ecozona marítima del Pacífico y tiene un enorme y famoso parque llamado Stanley Park es uno de los parques urbanos más grandes de América del Norte. Una ciudad muy diversa con un nivel de vida muy alto siendo también una de las más caras ciudades del mundo y seguramente la más cara de América del Norte. Es una ciudad hermosa con agua y bosques y flores por todas partes.

 

La ville de Vancouver est une ville portuaire côtière située sur le continent de la Colombie-Britannique. Située sur la moitié ouest de la péninsule Burrard, Vancouver est délimitée au nord par English Bay et Burrard Inlet et au sud par le fleuve Fraser. Il a une superficie de 114 kilomètres carrés (44 miles carrés) avec une population de 631 486 (selon le recensement de 2016. Vancouver est la plus grande ville de la Colombie-Britannique et la huitième plus grande municipalité du Canada; la région métropolitaine du Grand Vancouver (qui comprend villes voisines telles que Burnaby, Richmond et Surrey) est le troisième plus grand au Canada. Les coordonnées : 49° 15' 39.14\" N, 123° 6' 50.23\" W mesurent à partir de l'hôtel de ville. Il a le fuseau horaire du Pacifique : GMT -8 dans le cadre de l'écozone maritime du Pacifique et possède un immense et célèbre parc appelé Stanley Park est l'un des plus grands parcs urbains d'Amérique du Nord.Une ville très diversifiée avec un niveau de vie très élevé étant également l'un des plus chers villes du monde et certainement la plus chère d'Amérique du Nord, c'est une belle ville avec de l'eau, de la forêt et des fleurs partout.

 

La città di Vancouver è una città portuale costiera sulla terraferma della Columbia Britannica. Situata nella metà occidentale della penisola di Burrard, Vancouver è delimitata a nord da English Bay e Burrard Inlet ea sud dal fiume Fraser. Ha un'area di 114 chilometri quadrati (44 miglia quadrate) con una popolazione di 631.486 (secondo il censimento del 2016. Vancouver è la città più grande della Columbia Britannica e l'ottavo comune più grande del Canada; l'area metropolitana di Greater Vancouver (che comprende città vicine come Burnaby, Richmond e Surrey) è la terza più grande del Canada. Le coordinate: 49° 15' 39.14\" N, 123° 6' 50.23\" W misurano dal municipio. Ha il fuso orario del Pacifico : GMT -8 come parte dell'ecozona marittima del Pacifico e ha un enorme e famoso parco chiamato Stanley Park è uno dei più grandi parchi urbani del Nord America.Una città molto diversificata con uno standard di vita molto elevato è anche una delle più costose città del mondo e sicuramente la più cara del Nord America, è una bellissima città con acqua, foreste e fiori dappertutto.

 

De stad Vancouver is een kust-, zeehavenstad op het vasteland van Brits-Columbia. Vancouver, gelegen op de westelijke helft van het schiereiland Burrard, wordt in het noorden begrensd door English Bay en de Burrard Inlet en in het zuiden door de Fraser River. Het heeft een oppervlakte van 114 vierkante kilometer (44 vierkante mijl) met een bevolking van 631.486 (volgens de volkstelling van 2016. Vancouver is de grootste stad in British Columbia, en de achtste grootste gemeente in Canada; het grootstedelijk gebied van Vancouver (dat omvat naburige steden zoals Burnaby, Richmond en Surrey) is de derde grootste in Canada. De coördinaten: 49° 15' 39.14\" N, 123° 6' 50.23\" W meten vanaf het stadhuis. Het heeft de Pacific-tijdzone : GMT -8 als onderdeel van de maritieme ecozone van de Stille Oceaan en heeft een enorm en beroemd park genaamd Stanley Park is een van de grootste stadsparken in Noord-Amerika. Een zeer diverse stad met een zeer hoge levensstandaard die ook een van de duurste is steden in de wereld en zeker de duurste in Noord-Amerika.Het is een prachtige stad met water en bos en bloemen overal.

 

Die Stadt Vancouver ist eine Küsten- und Seehafenstadt auf dem Festland von British Columbia. Vancouver liegt in der westlichen Hälfte der Burrard-Halbinsel und wird im Norden von der English Bay und dem Burrard Inlet und im Süden vom Fraser River begrenzt. Es hat eine Fläche von 114 Quadratkilometern (44 Quadratmeilen) mit einer Bevölkerung von 631.486 (laut Volkszählung von 2016). Vancouver ist die größte Stadt in British Columbia und die achtgrößte Gemeinde in Kanada; die Metropolregion Greater Vancouver (einschließlich Vancouver). Nachbarstädte wie Burnaby, Richmond und Surrey) ist die drittgrößte in Kanada. Die Koordinaten: 49° 15' 39,14\" N, 123° 6' 50,23\" W, gemessen vom Rathaus. Es hat die pazifische Zeitzone : GMT -8 als Teil der pazifischen maritimen Ökozone und hat einen riesigen und berühmten Park namens Stanley Park ist einer der größten städtischen Parks in Nordamerika.Eine sehr vielfältige Stadt mit einem sehr hohen Lebensstandard, die auch eine der teuersten ist Städte der Welt und mit Sicherheit die teuerste in Nordamerika, eine wunderschöne Stadt mit Wasser und Wald und Blumen überall.

 

Η πόλη του Βανκούβερ είναι μια παραθαλάσσια, παραθαλάσσια πόλη στην ηπειρωτική χώρα της Βρετανικής Κολομβίας. Βρίσκεται στο δυτικό μισό της χερσονήσου Burrard, το Βανκούβερ οριοθετείται στα βόρεια από τον κόλπο English Bay και την είσοδο Burrard και νότια από τον ποταμό Fraser. Έχει έκταση 114 τετραγωνικά χιλιόμετρα (44 τετραγωνικά μίλια) με πληθυσμό 631.486 (σύμφωνα με την απογραφή του 2016. Το Βανκούβερ είναι η μεγαλύτερη πόλη στη Βρετανική Κολομβία και ο όγδοος μεγαλύτερος δήμος στον Καναδά· η μητροπολιτική περιοχή του Ευρύτερου Βανκούβερ (η οποία περιλαμβάνει γειτονικές πόλεις όπως το Μπέρναμπυ, το Ρίτσμοντ και το Σάρεϊ) είναι η τρίτη μεγαλύτερη στον Καναδά. Οι συντεταγμένες: 49° 15' 39,14\" Β, 123° 6' 50,23\" μέτρο Δ από το Δημαρχείο. Έχει τη ζώνη ώρας του Ειρηνικού : GMT -8 ως μέρος της θαλάσσιας οικοζώνης του Ειρηνικού και έχει ένα τεράστιο και διάσημο πάρκο που ονομάζεται Stanley Park είναι ένα από τα μεγαλύτερα αστικά πάρκα στη Βόρεια Αμερική. Μια πόλη με πολύ μεγάλη ποικιλία με πολύ υψηλό βιοτικό επίπεδο είναι επίσης μια από τις πιο ακριβές πόλεις στον κόσμο και σίγουρα η πιο ακριβή στη Βόρεια Αμερική.Είναι μια όμορφη πόλη με νερό και δάσος και λουλούδια παντού.

 

مدينة فانكوفر هي مدينة ساحلية ساحلية تقع على البر الرئيسي لكولومبيا البريطانية. تقع فانكوفر في النصف الغربي من شبه جزيرة بورارد ، ويحدها من الشمال خليج إنجليش ومدخل بورارد ومن الجنوب نهر فريزر. تبلغ مساحتها 114 كيلومترًا مربعًا (44 ميلًا مربعًا) ويبلغ عدد سكانها 631،486 نسمة (وفقًا لتعداد عام 2016. فانكوفر هي أكبر مدينة في كولومبيا البريطانية ، وثامن أكبر بلدية في كندا ؛ منطقة العاصمة الكبرى فانكوفر (التي تشمل المدن المجاورة مثل برنابي وريتشموند وساري) هي ثالث أكبر مدن كندا. الإحداثيات: 49 ° 15 '39.14 \ "شمالاً ، 123 ° 6' 50.23 \" غربًا من قاعة المدينة. بها المنطقة الزمنية للمحيط الهادئ : GMT -8 كجزء من منطقة المحيط الهادئ البحرية وبها حديقة ضخمة وشهيرة تسمى حديقة ستانلي وهي واحدة من أكبر المنتزهات الحضرية في أمريكا الشمالية. مدينة متنوعة للغاية مع مستوى معيشي مرتفع للغاية وهي أيضًا واحدة من أغلى مدن في العالم وبالتأكيد أغلى مدينة في أمريكا الشمالية ، إنها مدينة جميلة بها مياه وغابات وأزهار في كل مكان.

 

バンクーバー市は、ブリティッシュコロンビア州本土にある沿岸の港湾都市です。バラード半島の西半分に位置するバンクーバーは、北はイングリッシュベイとバラード入り江に、南はフレーザー川に囲まれています。面積は114平方キロメートル（44平方マイル）で、人口は631,486人です（2016年の国勢調査によると、バンクーバーはブリティッシュコロンビア州で最大の都市であり、カナダで8番目に大きい自治体です。バーナビー、リッチモンド、サリーなどの近隣の都市は、カナダで3番目に大きい都市です。座標：市庁舎から北緯49度15分39.14インチ、西経123度6分50.23インチ。太平洋のタイムゾーンがあります。 ：太平洋海事エコゾーンの一部としてのGMT -8で、スタンレーパークと呼ばれる巨大で有名な公園があります。これは北米で最大の都市公園の1つです。非常に多様な都市であり、生活水準も非常に高く、最も高価な都市の1つです。世界の都市、そして確かに北米で最も高価な都市です。それは水と森と花がいたるところにある美しい都市です。

 

वैंकूवर शहर ब्रिटिश कोलंबिया की मुख्य भूमि पर एक तटीय, बंदरगाह शहर है। बर्रार्ड प्रायद्वीप के पश्चिमी भाग में स्थित, वैंकूवर उत्तर में इंग्लिश बे और बर्रार्ड इनलेट और दक्षिण में फ्रेजर नदी से घिरा है। इसका क्षेत्रफल 631,486 (2016 की जनगणना के अनुसार) की आबादी के साथ 114 वर्ग किलोमीटर (44 वर्ग मील) है। वैंकूवर ब्रिटिश कोलंबिया का सबसे बड़ा शहर है, और कनाडा में आठवीं सबसे बड़ी नगरपालिका है; ग्रेटर वैंकूवर महानगरीय क्षेत्र (जिसमें शामिल है) पड़ोसी शहर जैसे बर्नाबी, रिचमंड, और सरे) कनाडा में तीसरा सबसे बड़ा है। निर्देशांक: 49° 15' 39.14\" N, 123° 6' 50.23\" W सिटी हॉल से मापता है। इसमें प्रशांत समय क्षेत्र है : जीएमटी -8 प्रशांत समुद्री इकोज़ोन के हिस्से के रूप में और स्टेनली पार्क नामक एक विशाल और प्रसिद्ध पार्क है, जो उत्तरी अमेरिका के सबसे बड़े शहरी पार्कों में से एक है। एक बहुत ही विविध शहर जिसमें उच्च जीवन स्तर भी सबसे महंगे में से एक है दुनिया में शहर और निश्चित रूप से उत्तरी अमेरिका में सबसे महंगा। यह एक सुंदर शहर है जिसमें पानी और जंगल और फूल हैं।

 

溫哥華市是不列顛哥倫比亞省大陸的沿海海港城市。溫哥華位於伯拉德半島的西半部，北接英吉利灣和伯拉德灣，南接弗雷澤河。面積 114 平方公里（44 平方英里），人口 631,486 人（根據 2016 年人口普查。溫哥華是不列顛哥倫比亞省最大的城市，加拿大第八大城市；大溫哥華都會區（包括本拿比、里士滿和素裡等鄰近城市是加拿大第三大城市。坐標：49° 15' 39.14\" N, 123° 6' 50.23\" W 從市政廳測量。它有太平洋時區: 格林威治標準時間 -8 作為太平洋海洋生態區的一部分，擁有一個名為斯坦利公園的巨大而著名的公園，是北美最大的城市公園之一。一個非常多樣化的城市，生活水平很高，也是最昂貴的城市之一世界上最貴的城市，當然也是北美最貴的城市。它是一個美麗的城市，有水、森林和鮮花。

 

Offered in the US from model year 1997 to 2001, the Catera was a badge-engineered Opel Omega made in Rüsselsheim, Germany.

 

The advertisements for it featured supermodel Cindy Crawford, some of which speaking to an animated duck-like character (technically the bird is a martlet) named 'Ziggy', who lasted maybe 2 years.

 

It wasn't derided as much as GM's earlier, badge-engineered Cadillac Cimarron was, a car that was easily recognized that it had the same body as the economy Chevrolet Cavalier except with Caddy end caps. But the Catera wasn't a great seller, either, finishing its run of 5 years as a single-run model.

 

The one depicted has apparently survived and looks to be in very good condition.

Thank you for taking the time to view fave & possibly make a comment. Your view on my images & my narrative is always appreciated. Thank you. Happy Days Happy Ways Happy weekend to one & all 🙏

Special offer for 99 Sale

Amelie Lingerie comes bra ana panties in 10 selected colors Yellow - Turquoise - nude - salmon - hot pink - royal - oil blue - marine - dark plum - red and is rigged for Maitreya Lara/Petite - Freya - hourglass - Legacy/Perky - Kupra - Reborn.

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Suwannee River State Park, west of Live Oak, Fl., has a beautiful selection of trails that offer excellent casual hikes, especially in the fall and winter when some of the vegetation offers vibrant colors.

Larceny Barrel Proof offers a new opportunity to experience our acclaimed wheated Bourbon mashbill in its purest form: non-chill filtered and bottled at full barrel proof. Released three times per year in January, May, and September, each offering is a bold yet balanced special Small Batch Bourbon rich with depth and distinction. Much like Larceny Small Batch and Old Fitzgerald Bottled-in-Bond, Larceny Barrel Proof is a welcome reminder of just how good wheated Bourbons can be.

 

Tasting Notes

Color: Dark sepia

Aroma: Toasted bread, with maple and cinnamon

Taste: Rich molasses coats the tongue, with notes of fig and hazelnut

Finish: Nuanced flavor fades into lingering warmth

heavenhilldistillery.com/larceny-barrel-proof.php

 

Whisky Tasting, 03/23/2024, Nashville, TN

 

Canon EOS-1DS

EF 35.0 mm ƒ/1.4 L

ƒ/1.4 35.0 mm 1/30 400

 

Instagram in B&W Only | wheremyrunningshoestakeme | Instagram in Color | Lens Wide-Open

 

This ground squirrel and many others lived very near a parking lot and picnic area. It seemed they would much rather accept an offer of a potato chip from a human. But, on occasion I did see them eating food provided by nature. (DSC_8208.jpg)

Cuba, near Viñales, a tobaco farmer whom we visited, picked three large dried tobaco leaves, rolled a single sigar and offered us. Proudly confirming us the best tobacos in the world are grown here in this location.

St. Thomas University (STU) is a private Catholic university in Opa-locka North, Miami Gardens, Florida. The university offers 23 undergraduate majors, 24 graduate majors, 4 doctoral programs, and 1 professional law program. As of 2018, the university enrolls 4,223 students, which includes 982 undergraduate students; 977 graduate students; 571 law students; and 1,693 dual enrollment (high school) students. Over the years, the University's students have represented several states across the nation, and more than 70 countries.

 

St. Thomas University is accredited by the Southern Association of Colleges and Universities (SACS). The school of law is accredited by the American Bar Association (ABA) and is a member of the Association of American Law Schools (AALS). The baccalaureate degree program in nursing and master's degree program in nursing are accredited by the Commission on Collegiate Nursing Education (CCNE).

 

St. Thomas University's history can be traced back to 1946 Havana, Cuba, where it was founded as the Universidad Católica de Santo Tomás de Villanueva, named after Saint Thomas of Villanova. In 1961, Fidel Castro's militia confiscated the school's land and expelled the faculty and priests. In turn, the Augustinians fled to Miami and opened a new Catholic men's college – Biscayne College. In 1984, with the establishment of the School of Law and other graduate degree programs, the college, by then co-educational, again became St. Thomas University. The university came under the sponsorship of the Archdiocese of Miami in 1988, conferring upon St. Thomas the distinction of being the only Catholic Archdiocesan sponsored university in the state of Florida.

 

From 1970 until 1993, St. Thomas University was the training camp home of the Miami Dolphins NFL team.

 

Biscayne College, now known as St. Thomas University, was also the former spring training home of the Baltimore Orioles.

 

The university was located in the Opa-locka North census-designated place, in an unincorporated area, until Miami Gardens incorporated as a city on May 13, 2003.

 

On Wednesday, March 20, 2019, St. Thomas University formally installed David A. Armstrong, J.D. as the University's 10th president,

 

Credit for the data above is given to the following website:

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Thomas_University_(Florida)

 

© All Rights Reserved - you may not use this image in any form without my prior permission.

  

During the festival of Makar Sankranti Hindus offer food to birds

I offer commercial and editorial pet photography on a commissioned basis. And with a pet picture database of more than 200 images, I might already have what you are looking for. All pictures here can be licensed.

For licensing and commission requests: info@elkevogelsang.com

________________________

Elke Vogelsang

Commercial and editorial pet photographer

www.elkevogelsang.com

info@elkevogelsang.com

________________________

 

All pictures: © Elke Vogelsang

 

20170801_Linus_MGMLinus_SteppedOnALego

Not the great splash of color that some sunsets offer up but still an beauty!! Some rays of hope to end the day a bit of gold to warm the soul!! Photo taken at El Franco Lee Park!! Want to take this time to wish all of my Flickr friends a Happy Thanksgiving!! I know that it is really an American Holiday but we pause and give thanks for the many blessings that we have received this year!! In spite of the difficulties that we have had this year we still have so much to be thankful for!! Most of all am thankful for the many friends that I have both here on Flickr and those that stand by me when times get tough!! I am blessed to live in a place where we have such an abundance! A huge thank you for each and every one of my Flickr friends for your support and for your comments! Have a wonderful and blessed day!

 

Some of you will know that I am no fan of Explore and so make no big deal about it!! I take each photo one at a time and find many more photos that should be recognized!! I would normally change the settings so that most people can't see the photo but since it is Thanksgiving I'll let it be this one time! Happy Thanksgiving once again!!

 

DSC07909uls

Boasting the widest beach in Aruba and famous for its pristine and soft white sands, Eagle Beach offers beautiful Caribbean ocean views, ample parking, shaded areas, some beach huts, and a variety of water sports.

Eagle Beach is home to two of the most photographed and renowned fofoti trees in Aruba, with its trademark silhouette pointing in the direction of the Caribbean. These trees have been starring in various Aruba advertising campaigns as unique and highly recognizable features.

Several of the Aruba low rise hotels are nearby or just across the road. Some provide cabanas and lounges for their guests.

 

Localizada ao longo da costa oeste da ilha, este trecho intocado de 0,7 milhas de areia branca e fina atrai visitantes e moradores locais por sua beleza natural e cena gastronômica animada. No entanto, a praia, também a mais larga da ilha, continua sendo um santuário tranquilo com muito espaço para que todos possam tomar sol, brincar ou passear. Mesmo se você não estiver hospedado em uma das propriedades à beira-mar, há muito estacionamento gratuito se você estiver dirigindo aqui durante o dia, e o acesso à praia é gratuito. E enquanto Aruba é notoriamente ventosa por causa dos ventos alísios que sopram em toda a ilha, a água em Eagle Beach é calma, sem algas ou rochas e é excelente para natação e atividades aquáticas. Embora não haja formações de corais ou recifes, há uma abundância de peixes coloridos e caranguejos nadando na água.

 

An der Westküste der Insel gelegen, zieht dieser unberührte, 1,1 km lange, puderweiße Sandstrand Besucher und Einheimische gleichermaßen wegen seiner natürlichen Schönheit und lebhaften Restaurantszene an. Der Strand, auch der breiteste der Insel, bleibt jedoch ein ruhiger Zufluchtsort mit viel Platz für alle zum Sonnenbaden, Spielen oder Spazierengehen. Auch wenn Sie nicht in einem der Strandhotels übernachten, gibt es viele kostenlose Parkplätze, wenn Sie für den Tag hierher fahren, und der Zugang zum Strand ist kostenlos. Und während Aruba wegen der Passatwinde, die über die Insel wehen, bekanntermaßen windig ist, ist das Wasser am Eagle Beach ruhig, ohne Algen oder Felsen und eignet sich hervorragend zum Schwimmen und für Wasseraktivitäten. Obwohl es keine Korallenformationen oder Riffe gibt, gibt es eine Fülle von bunten Fischen und Krebsen, die im Wasser schwimmen.

 

Gelegen langs de westkust van het eiland, trekt dit ongerepte 1,1 mijl lange stuk poederachtig wit zand zowel bezoekers als de lokale bevolking vanwege de natuurlijke schoonheid en de levendige eetcultuur. Het strand, ook het breedste van het eiland, blijft echter een rustig toevluchtsoord met genoeg ruimte voor iedereen om te zonnebaden, te spelen of een wandeling te maken. Zelfs als u niet in een van de accommodaties aan het strand verblijft, is er voldoende gratis parkeergelegenheid als u hier een dagje naartoe rijdt, en de toegang tot het strand is gratis. En terwijl Aruba bekend staat om de wind vanwege de passaatwinden die over het eiland waaien, is het water op Eagle Beach kalm zonder zeewier of rotsen en uitstekend geschikt voor zwemmen en wateractiviteiten. Hoewel er geen koraalformaties of riffen zijn, zwemt er een overvloed aan kleurrijke vissen en krabben in het water.

 

Ubicado a lo largo de la costa oeste de la isla, este prístino tramo de 0.7 millas de arena blanca atrae a visitantes y lugareños por igual por su belleza natural y su animada escena gastronómica. Sin embargo, la playa, también la más ancha de la isla, sigue siendo un santuario tranquilo con mucho espacio para que todos puedan tomar el sol, jugar o dar un paseo. Sin embargo, incluso si no se hospeda en una de las propiedades frente a la playa, hay mucho estacionamiento gratuito si conduce aquí durante el día, y el acceso a la playa es gratuito. Y aunque Aruba es famosa por el viento debido a los vientos alisios que soplan en la isla, el agua en Eagle Beach es tranquila, sin algas ni rocas, y es excelente para nadar y realizar actividades acuáticas. Aunque no hay formaciones de coral o arrecifes, hay una gran cantidad de peces de colores y cangrejos nadando en el agua.

 

Situato lungo la costa occidentale dell'isola, questo tratto incontaminato di 0,7 miglia di sabbia bianca e polverosa attira visitatori e gente del posto per la sua bellezza naturale e la vivace scena gastronomica. Tuttavia, la spiaggia, anche la più ampia dell'isola, rimane un tranquillo santuario con tanto spazio per prendere il sole, giocare o fare una passeggiata. Anche se non alloggi in una delle proprietà sulla spiaggia, tuttavia, c'è un ampio parcheggio gratuito se guidi qui per la giornata e l'accesso alla spiaggia è gratuito. E mentre Aruba è notoriamente ventosa a causa degli alisei che soffiano sull'isola, l'acqua di Eagle Beach è calma senza alghe o rocce ed è eccellente per nuotare e fare attività acquatiche. Anche se non ci sono formazioni coralline o barriere coralline, c'è un'abbondanza di pesci colorati e granchi che nuotano nell'acqua.

 

Située le long de la côte ouest de l'île, cette étendue immaculée de 0,7 mile de sable blanc poudreux attire les visiteurs et les habitants pour sa beauté naturelle et sa scène gastronomique animée. Cependant, la plage, également la plus large de l'île, reste un sanctuaire tranquille avec beaucoup d'espace pour que chacun puisse bronzer, jouer ou se promener. Même si vous ne séjournez pas dans l'une des propriétés en bord de mer, il y a beaucoup de places de parking gratuites si vous conduisez ici pour la journée, et l'accès à la plage est gratuit. Et tandis qu'Aruba est célèbre pour ses vents en raison des alizés qui soufflent sur l'île, l'eau d'Eagle Beach est calme, sans algues ni rochers et est excellente pour la baignade et les activités nautiques. Même s'il n'y a pas de formations coralliennes ou de récifs, il y a une abondance de poissons colorés et de crabes nageant dans l'eau.

 

島の西海岸に沿って位置する、この手付かずの 0.7 マイルのパウダー状の白い砂浜は、その自然の美しさと活気のあるダイニング シーンのために観光客や地元の人々を魅了します。しかし、島で最も広いビーチは、誰もが日光浴をしたり、遊んだり、散歩したりするのに十分なスペースがあり、静かな聖域のままです。ただし、ビーチフロントの宿泊施設に滞在していなくても、ここを 1 日運転している場合は無料の駐車場がたくさんあり、ビーチへのアクセスは無料です。アルバ島は貿易風が吹くため風が強いことで知られていますが、イーグル ビーチの水は海藻や岩がなく穏やかで、水泳やウォーター アクティビティに最適です。サンゴ礁やサンゴ礁はありませんが、水中には色とりどりの魚やカニが泳いでいます。

 

يقع على طول الساحل الغربي للجزيرة ، هذا الامتداد البكر الذي يبلغ طوله 0.7 ميل من الرمال البيضاء البودرة يجذب الزوار والسكان المحليين على حد سواء لجمالها الطبيعي ومشهد تناول الطعام المفعم بالحيوية. ومع ذلك ، يظل الشاطئ ، وهو أيضًا الأوسع في الجزيرة ، ملاذًا هادئًا مع مساحة كبيرة للجميع لأخذ حمام شمس أو اللعب أو التنزه. حتى إذا كنت لا تقيم في أحد العقارات المواجهة للشاطئ ، فهناك الكثير من مواقف السيارات المجانية إذا كنت تقود سيارتك هنا طوال اليوم ، والوصول إلى الشاطئ مجاني. وبينما تشتهر أروبا بالرياح بسبب الرياح التجارية التي تهب عبر الجزيرة ، فإن المياه على شاطئ إيجل هادئة مع عدم وجود أعشاب بحرية أو صخور وممتازة للسباحة والأنشطة المائية. على الرغم من عدم وجود تكوينات مرجانية أو شعاب مرجانية ، إلا أن هناك وفرة من الأسماك الملونة وسرطان البحر تسبح في الماء.

two for one special offer

20121102UK That rare beast; a principled Conservative MP Dr Sarah W. joined Cameron's "Big Tent" refusing the offer of PPS because it would mean that she could no longer oppose the government. Decided to vote against leaving the EU, left the Tories to ground Change UK later became a Liberal Democrat. Strongly Pro-Choice, sponsored the "Stalking Protection Act" and tried to tax alchohol more highly Totnes United Kingdom #blackandwhite #223 #memberofparliament #conservative #changeuk #liberaldemocrat #knownknowns&unknownknowns #art #realpeople #reallives #truestories #portraits #b&w #photography #instagram #street hughes-photography.eu www.flickr.com/photos/michael_hughes www.hughes.berlin

To offer some perspective regarding the dark-maned male from the prior image, here is the backdrop that I often mention. Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania.

AWS Recycling Ltd is a leading waste management company registered under the ISO 14001 accreditation.

 

With contracts throughout the West Midlands. Their team are here to help with the ever-growing recycling requirements of all their customers.

 

AWS Ltd offers all aspects of waste management in the work place, with total business recycling that ensures the efficient and environmentally friendly way to dispose of all waste materials.

 

AWS is an independently owned company enabling them to offer their customers the best prices and contracts in such a competitive market. With over 25 years experience of working within the waste industry we have expert knowledge and advice on waste management solutions.

 

A.W.S Recycling Ltd (the ‘Organisation’) recognises the importance of environmental protection and is committed to operating its business responsibly and in compliance with all environmental regulations, legislation and approved codes of practice relating to civil and construction engineering and the Organisation’s overall business activities.

 

They work in partnership with organisations to offer the most efficient waste management solution. They ensure they have a full understanding of requirements, and deliver on their promises. Their responsibility to their customers is more than just a waste collection service; they endeavour to meet all needs, from providing the solutions, collecting and disposing/recycling of waste, to also providing reports of waste and recycling figures.

Niagara USA offers a breathtaking view of one of nature’s marvels and an experience that will last a life time.

The Niagara Falls are the most powerful waterfalls in North America. These voluminous waterfalls are situated on the Niagara River, which drains Lake Erie into Lake Ontario and forms the international border between the Canadian province of Ontario and the U.S. state of New York and forms the southern end of the Niagara Gorge.

A Capped Langur during an early morning foraging giving me the chance to frame him from close. Caring a hang at my close presence he offered me this very natural pose. Pics was taken in Manas National Park, Assam, India.

rail station

Special Offer - Roebuck Horned

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.

 

Concerned about her beau, Selwyn Spencely’s, true affections for her, and worried about the threat his cousin and 1923 debutante, Pamela Fox-Chavers, posed to her own potential romantic plans with Selwyn, Lettice concocted a ruse to spy on Pamela and Selwyn at the Royal Horticultural Society’s 1923 Great Spring Show*. As luck would have it, Lettice ran into Pamela and Selwyn, quite literally in the latter’s case, and they ended up having tea together. Whilst not the appropriate place to talk about Selwyn’s mother, Lady Zinnia, whom Lettice suspects of arranging a match between Selwyn and Pamela, who are cousins, Selwyn has agreed to organise a dinner with Lettice where they can talk openly about the future of their relationship and the interference of Lady Zinnia. However, whilst Lettice waits for the dinner to be arranged, she has a wonderful distraction to take her mind off things.

 

That is why today we are far from London, returning to Wiltshire, where Lettice grew up at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie and his new wife Arabella. However, we are not at Glynes, but rather in Glynes Village at the local village hall where a much loved annual tradition is taking place. Every year the village have a summer fête, run by the local women and overseen by Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, to help raise money for a worthy cause in the village. The summer fête is one of the highlights of the village and country calendar as it always includes a flower show, a cake stand, stalls run by local famers’ wives selling homemade produce, games of hoopla, a coconut shy, a tombola and a jumble sale, a white elephant stall and a fortune teller – who is always local haberdasher Mrs. Maginot who has a theatrical bent and manages the Glynes theatrical players as well as her shop in the village high street. All the stalls and entertainments are held either in the village hall or the grounds surrounding it. Not only do the citizens of the village involve themselves in the fête, but also the gentry, and there is always much excitement when matriarch of the Brutons, Lady Gwyneth – Gerald’s mother, and Lady Isobel Tyrwhitt – Arabella’s mother, attend. Neither lady have been well over the last few years with Lady Gwyneth suffering a spate of bronchial infections and Lady Isobel receiving treatment for cancer, so it is a rare treat to have both in attendance. This year’s summer fête is a special one for Arabella in particular, for as the newly minted Mrs. Leslie Chetwynd, she now joins the effort to help run the Glynes summer fête for the first time and has been given the second-hand clothing stall to run as part of the jumble sale.

 

The Glynes village hall is a hive of activity, and the cavernous space resounds with running footsteps, voluble chatter from the mostly female gathering, hammering and children’s laughter and tears as they run riot around the adults as they set up their stalls. Mr. Lovegrove, who runs the village shop, climbs a ladder which is held by the elderly church verger Mr. Lewis and affixes the brightly coloured Union Jacks and bunting that have been used every year since the King’s Coronation in 1911 around the walls. Lady Sadie casts a critical eye over the white elephant stall, rearranging items to put what she considers the best quality items on more prominent display, whilst removing a select few pieces which she thinks unsuitable for sale, which she passes to Newman, her ladies maid, to dispose of. Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler arranges and categorises books for the second-hand book stall, perhaps spending a little too much time perusing some of the titles. Mrs. Elliott who runs the Women’s Institute manages the influx of local women bringing in cakes with regimental efficiency. And amongst all the noise, activity and excitement, Arabella busies herself unpacking boxes of old clothes and tries her best to make her trestle an attractive addition to the summer fête. Lettice perches on an old bentwood chair, offering suggestions to her sister-in-law whilst pulling faces as she lifts up various donations before depositing them in disgust where they had been beforehand.

 

“Here we are then,” Gerald announces as he walks across the busy floor of the hall bearing a wooden tray containing several teacups and a plate of cupcakes from the refreshments stand, narrowly avoiding Mrs. Lovegrove’s two youngest children as they chase one another around his legs. The sound of his jolly call and his footsteps joining all the other cacophony of setting up going on around him. “Refreshments for the hard workers,” he looks at Arabella. “And the not-so-hard-workers.” he looks at Lettice.

 

“Don’t be cheeky!” Lettice says to him with a hard stare, letting a limp stocking fall from her hand and collapse into a wrinkled pool on the trestle table’s surface.

 

Gerald puts the three tea cups down where he can find a surface on Arabella’s trestle table, followed by a long blue and gilt edged platter on which sit three very festive cupcakes featuring Union Jacks made of marzipan sticking out of white clouds of icing.

 

“Mrs. Casterton’s special cupcakes.” he announces proudly with a beaming smile.

 

“How on earth did you get those, Gerald?” gasps Lettice in surprise, eyeing the dainty cakes greedily. “Mrs. Casterton hasn’t let me take food from her kitchen since I started dining at the table with the rest of the family, never mind pinch anything from her stall for the fundraiser!”

 

“It helps when you aren’t her employer’s indulged youngest child.” Gerald says, tapping his nose knowingly.

 

“I was not an indulged child!” Lettice defends, raising her hand to the boat neckline of her frock and grasping her single strand of creamy white pearls hanging about her neck. “You were more indulged by Aunt Gwen than I ever was by Mater or Pater.”

 

“Oh, just ignore him, Tice!” laughs Arabella from her place behind the trestle. “You know Gerald has always had the ability to charm anything from anyone when he wants to.”

 

“That’s true,” Lettice replies, eyeing Gerald with a cocked eyebrow and a bemused smile as she picks up her magenta and gilt rimmed cup and sips her tea. “I had forgotten that.”

 

“What can I say?” laughs Gerald proudly with a shrug of his shoulders.

 

“It’s not so much what you can say as what you can do, Gerald.” mutters Arabella with a frustrated sigh.

 

“I am at your service, my lady?” Gerald replies, making a sweeping bow before Arabella and Lettice, who both laugh at his jester like action.

 

“Be careful what you promise, Gerald.” giggles Lettice.

 

“Bella would never expect too much from me, Lettice.” Gerald retorts with a smile. “She’s known me all her life and she knows what my limitations are.”

 

“Well, I was hoping you could help me by working some magic on my second hand clothing stall.” Arabella remarks with another frustrated sigh as she tugs at the old fashioned shirtwaister** blouse with yellowing lace about the collar. “I’ve tried and tried all morning, but nothing I seem to do helps make anything look more modern and more attractive to buy.”

 

Lettice and Gerald look around at Arabella’s stall. The shirtwaister outfit with its pretty, albeit slightly marked, lace, tweed skirt and leather belt with a smart, yet old fashioned Art Nouveau buckle really is the most attractive piece that she has on display. Around it on the surface of her trestle are a jumble of yellowing linen napkins complete with tarnished napkin rings, a selection of embroidered, tatted*** and crocheted doilies, mismatched pairs of leather and lace gloves and several rather worn looking hats that are really only suitable for gardening now, rather than being worn to church services on Sunday.

 

“I warned you Gerald.” Lettice says with a knowing wink.

 

“Don’t you remember how much we all felt sorry for whomever ran the second-hand clothing stall at the fête each year as children, Bella?” Gerald asks.

 

“It was always the short straw.” Lettice adds.

 

“Yes, being stuck under the piercing stare of His Majesty.” Gerald indicates to the portrait of King George V, dating back to the pre-war years when the King still had colour in his hair.

 

“The worst stall to have because none of the villagers ever seem to have anything nice or remotely fashionable to donate, even for a good cause like new books for the village school.” Lettice picks up a pretty primrose yellow napkin. “These are nice at least.”

 

“Except there are only three of them.” points out Arabella with a disappointed air. “I can’t seem to find a fourth.” She picks up a red dyed straw hat in the vain hope that it will be there, even though she has searched beneath it three times already. “And I’ve looked everywhere.”

 

“Tea for two, perhaps?” Gerald suggests hopefully as he picks up his own teacup and takes a sip of tea.

 

“Oh, you two are no help!” scoffs Arabella. “I’ve a right mind to stick you both with these!” She grasps a pair of knitting needles complete with some rather dreadfully made rows of incomplete knitting and a ball of wool and thrusts them through the air between she, Lettice, and Gerald. “They’ll get you working.”

 

“Even if they do, Bella, we aren’t miracle workers.” remarks Gerald.

 

All three of them laugh good heartedly.

 

“Oh I must make the best of it,” Arabella sighs resignedly as she tugs at the left leg-of-mutton sleeve**** of the shirtwaister. “After all, this is my first year as Leslie’s wife, and the first jumble sale I am actively helping to run to help raise funds for the village. I must make this stall a success no matter what.” The steely determination in her voice surprises her as she speaks. “I’m a Chetwynd now, and I can’t disappoint the villagers with a poor show.”

 

“Nor Mater.” adds Lettice, taking another sip of tea.

 

“No indeed!” agrees Gerald. “Lady Sadie will be judging you from afar, Bella, rest assured. If your stall isn’t a great success, you’ll hear about it.”

 

“In a dozen little quips.” Lettice adds.

 

“More like a hundred.” corrects Gerald.

 

“Tearing delicately phrased strips off you.” agrees Lettice.

 

“Inflicting as much pain for as long as possible.” adds Gerald with seriousness.

 

“Oh stop, Gerald!” laughs Arabella. “She isn’t anywhere near as much of a dragon as you and Tice paint her to be.”

 

“You’ve only been married to the family for a little while now,” Lettice counters, looking at her sister-in-law over the magenta and gilt painted rim of her cup. “And you and Leslie have your own lives and are left pretty much to your own devices down in the Glynes Dower House from what I can gather. We’ll give you a little while longer to find out the truth about your wicked mother-in-law.” She smiles cheekily.

 

“I have grown up alongside you, going in and out of your house, Tice,” Arabella replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. “So it’s not like Sadie is an unknown quantity to me.”

 

“But you’ve never been a recipient of her acerbic tongue either, I’ll wager.” adds Gerald dourly. “You’re far too sweet and compliant a young daughter-in-law for that, but both Lettice and I have.”

 

“I still don’t know,” Lettice queries, turning her attention to Gerald. “What was it you said to Mater that night of Hunt Ball that set her so against you, Gerald? I’ve never known her to take against anyone so vehemently, except perhaps poor Aunt Egg who can never do any right in her eyes.”

 

Gerald blushes, remembering the altercation he had with Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, at the ball. In a slightly inebriated state he told her that neither she nor Lettice had any sway over Selwyn Spencely’s choice of a wife, any more than Selwyn did himself, explaining that it was his mother, the Duchess of Mumford, Lady Zinnia, who would choose a wife for him. “I keep telling you, darling girl. I really don’t remember,” he replies awkwardly, covering his tracks as best as he can. “If you remember, I was rather tight***** that night on your father’s champagne.”

 

“Well,” Arabella says with a sigh. “I’m determined not to incur her wrath, even though I’m sure it’s nowhere near as awful as you two suggest.”

 

“Oh-oh!” Gerald mutters under his breath to Lettice. “In coming.”

 

“Oh no.” moans Lettice quietly in return behind the painted smile she places on her face as she, Gerald and Arabella are suddenly set upon by the Miss Evanses, the two spinster sisters who live in Holland House, a Seventeenth Century manor house in the village.

 

The trio smile benignly as the two sisters twitter to one another in crackling voices that sound like crisp autumn leaves underfoot as they approach them.

 

“Well, twice in as many weeks, Miss Chetwynd!” exclaims the younger of the Miss Evanses in delight, a joyous smile spreading across her dry, unpainted lips. “Last week at the Royal Horticultural Society’s Great Spring Show, and now here! How very blessed we are to see you again.”

 

“How do you do, Miss Evans, Miss Evans,” Lettice acknowledges them both with a curt nod from her seat. She glances at the two old women, who must be in their seventies at least, both dressed in a similar style to when she saw them last week at the Royal Horticultural Society’s Great Spring Show, in floral gowns of pre-war Edwardian era length, their equally old fashioned whale bone S-bend corsets****** forcing their breasts into giant monobosoms down which sautoirs******* of glittering Edwardian style beads on gold chains cascade. Wearing toques with feather aigrettes jutting out of them atop their waved white hair they look like older versions of Queen Mary.

 

“I’m afraid you are a little early for the jumble sale, Miss Evans and Miss Evans,” Arabella remarks sweetly. “We are still setting up.”

 

“Oh, thank you! We know, Mrs. Chetwynd.” twitters the elder of the Miss Evanses, surprising Arabella a little as she still gets used to being referred to by her new married name. “I was just remarking to Henrietta this very morning over breakfast that we do so much look forward to the village fête every year.”

 

“Yes, it’s a nice way for us to be able to support the local community in our own small way, isn’t that right Geraldine?” enthuses her sister, raising her white lace glove clad hand to her wrinkled and dry mouth as she giggles in a rather unseemly girlish way.

 

“Indeed yes, Henrietta. It is to aid the school this year, is it not?”

 

“It is Miss Evans.” Arabella confirms. “To help buy new books for the children.”

 

“A very fine cause, I must say,” the younger of the Miss Evanses remarks indulgently. “Helping the young ones to read and develop their fertile minds. Rather like gardening, wouldn’t you say?”

 

“It is not even remotely like gardening!” quips her sister. “Stop talking such nonsense Henrietta.”

 

“We shall of course be glad of your patronage when the jumble sale opens in an hour.” Arabella quickly says in an effort to diffuse any unpleasantness between the two spinster sisters, at the same time emphasising the time the sale begins.

 

“Well,” adds the elder of the Miss Evanses seriously. “We shall of course come and spend a few shillings and pence when it opens officially, but…”

 

“Oh!” interrupts the younger of the Miss Evanses. “Is your frock designed by Master Bruton, Miss Chetwynd?” She addresses Gerald in the old fashioned deference of the village and county folk when addressing the children of the bigger aristocratic houses.

 

“Yes, Miss Evans. Mr. Bruton,” Lettice applies gravatas to the correct reference to Gerald’s name now that he is of age. “Did design my frock.”

 

“Oh it’s ever so smart!” the younger of the sisters enthuses.

 

“Thank you, Miss Evans.” Gerald acknowledges her.

 

“And your hat?” Miss Evans points to the yellow straw hat. “Didn’t I see you wearing that at Master Leslie’s wedding to Miss Arabella?”

 

“Mrs. Chetwynd, I think you mean, Henrietta.” corrects her sister with a sharpness to her remark.

 

“Oh yes!” bristles the younger Miss Evans at her sister’s harsh correction, raising her hand to her mouth again. “Yes of course! Mrs. Chetwynd, I do apologise.”

 

“It’s quite alright, Miss Evans.” Arabella assures her. “I am still getting used to being Mrs. Chetwynd myself.”

 

“How very observant of you, Miss Evans.” Lettice addresses the younger of the siblings. “I did indeed have my hat made for Leslie and Bella’s wedding. It was made by a friend of Mr. Bruton’s, Miss Harriet Milford.”

 

“Yes, well thinking of hats, I…” begins the elder Miss Evans.

 

“Oh it’s most becoming, Miss Chetwynd.” the younger Miss Evans interrupts her sister again as she compliments Lettice in an obsequious manner, followed by another twittering giggle.

 

“I can send someone down to Holland House this afternoon after the fête with her details if you like.” Lettice replies. “The next time you’re in London, you might pay her a call.”

 

The two sisters give one another a sour look at the idea, their lips thinning and their eyes lowering as they nod to one another in unison before turning back to Lettice and Gerald.

 

“Aside from the Great Spring Show, we don’t have much call to go up to London these days, do we Henrietta?”

 

“Indeed no, Geraldine.” agrees the younger Miss Evans between pursed lips, a tinge of regret in her statement.

 

“Besides we find the services of Mrs. Maginot’s in the high street to be quite adequate.”

 

“Good lord!” gasps Gerald, causing the two spinster sisters to blush at his strong language. “Is old Mrs. Maginot still going?” He chuckles. “Fancy that!”

 

The elder Miss Evans clears her dry and raspy throat awkwardly before continuing. “For our more bucolic, and doubtlessly simple tastes, Master Bruton, we find Mrs. Maginot to be quite satisfactory.” Both sisters raise their lace gloved hands to their toques in unison, patting the runched floral cotton lovingly. “We aren’t quite as fashionable as you smart and select London folk down here in sleepy little Glynes, Master Bruton, Miss Chetwynd, but we manage to keep up appearances.”

 

“On indeed yes, Miss Evans.” Lettice replies with an amused smile. “No-one could fault you on maintaining your standards.”

 

“I imagine you will soon be designing Miss Chetwnd’s own wedding frock, Master Bruton.” the younger of the Miss Evanses announces rather vulgarly.

 

“That’s only if I let her get married, Miss Evans,” Gerald teases her indulgently. “I might like to whisk her away and lock her in a tower so that I can keep her all to myself.”

 

“After what we all saw with our own eyes at the Hunt Ball, I’m sorry Master Bruton, but I don’t think you are in the running for Miss Chetwynd’s affections!” the younger Miss Evans twittering giggle escapes her throat yet again as her eyes sparkle with delight at the very faintest whiff of any gossip.

 

“How is Mr. Spencely, Miss Chetwynd?” the elder Miss Evans asks pointedly, her scrutinising gaze studying Lettice’s face.

 

Lettice blushes at the directness of both Miss Evans’ question and her steely gaze. “Oh, he’s quite well, as far as I know, Miss Evans.” she replies awkwardly.

 

“As far as you know?” the older woman’s outraged tone betrays her surprise as she looks quizzically into Lettice’s flushed face.

 

“Well, I haven’t seen Selw… err, Mr. Spencely just as of late.”

 

“Oh?” the elder Miss Evans queries. “I thought we saw you leave the tent we were in at the Great Spring Show, on the arm of Mr. Spencely.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure it was him, Miss Chetwynd.” adds the younger Miss Evans as she raises a lace clad finger in thought. “He’s very striking and hard to mistake for someone else.”

 

Silently Lettice curses the beady eyed observation the two spinster sisters are known for. Of course, they of all people at the bustling and crowded Chelsea flower show, noticed her inadvertent stumble into Selwyn and then her departure with him. Although perfectly innocent, and accompanied by her married friend Margot Channon, and Selwyn’s cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers, she can see how easily the Miss Evanses can construe the situation to their own advantage of spreading salacious London gossip about Lettice, as daughter of the local squire, around the citizenry of Glynes village.

 

“I believe you were here for a purpose, Miss Evans.” Gerald pipes up, quickly defending his best friend from any more uncomfortable cross examination.

 

“Oh,” the elder Miss Evans replies, the disappointment at the curtailing of her attempt to gather gossip clear in both her tone of voice and the fall of her thin and pale face. “Yes.” She turns to Arabella. “I have actually come early today to see you on business, Mrs. Chetwynd.”

 

“Me, Miss Evans?” Arabella raises her hand to the scalloped collar of her blouse and toys with the arrow and heart gold and diamond broach there – a wedding gift from her husband.

 

“Yes.” replies the elder of the two sisters. “You see, when I heard that you were running the second-hand stall this year, I did feel sorry for you.”

 

“Sorry for me, Miss Evans?”

 

“Yes,” she replies, screwing up her eyes. “For as you know, there is always a poor offering of donated goods by the other villagers, and it makes for a rather sad and depressing sight amidst all this gaiety.” She gesticulates over Arabella’s trestle with a lace glove clad hand, sending forth the whiff of lavender, cloves and camphor in the process.

 

“Unless you are donating one of your lovely frocks to the sale, Master Bruton?” the younger of the Miss Evanses adds with a hopeful lilt in her voice. “I should buy it, even if it didn’t fit me.”

 

Gerald splutters and chokes on the gulp of tea he has just taken as the question is posed of him. Coughing, he deposits his cup quickly and withdraws a large white handkerchief which he uses to cover his mouth and muffle his coughs.

 

“Oh, poor Master Bruton!” exclaims the younger of the Miss Evanses as she reaches out and gently, but pointlessly, taps Gerald on the shoulder in an effort to help him. “Did you tea go down the wrong way?”

 

“I arrest my case.” her elder sister snaps giving Gerald a steely, knowing look.

 

“Now be fair, Miss Evans,” Lettice defends her friend, filled with a sudden burst of anger towards the hypocritical old woman, who despite having plenty of money of her own, only spends a few shillings at the fundraiser every year. “Gerald is still establishing himself in London! He cannot afford to give one of his frocks away when he has to pour what little profit he currently makes back into supporting and promoting his atelier.”

 

“As you like, Miss Chetwynd.” Miss Evans replies dismissively. “It is a pity though that neither Master Bruton, nor yourself could cast something Mrs. Chetwynd’s way, to help make her stall more,” She pauses momentarily as she considers the correct word. “Appealing.”

 

Lettice feels the harshness of the old woman’s rebuke, but she says nothing as she feels a flush of shame rise up her neck and fill her face.

 

“Geraldine!” her younger sister scolds her. “That’s most uncharitable of you.”

 

“Charity, my dear Henrietta, begins at home.” She looks critically at the knotted half completed knitting, the yellow and age stained linen and the mismatched gloves. “And Mrs, Chetwynd, I see that try as you might, you cannot disguise the usually dispirited efforts of the village used clothing drive this year.”

 

“Oh, well I haven’t really finished setting up yet, Miss Evans.” Arabella defends herself. “There are still some things to unpack from the boxes behind me.” She indicates to several large wooden crates stacked up behind her against the wall under the watchful gaze of the King.

 

“Which are items that doubtlessly didn’t sell last year, or the year before that have been shuffled away, only to make their annual reappearance.”

 

“Perhaps you have something appealing,” Lettice emphasises her re-use of the elder Miss Evans’ word as she tries to regain some moral standing against the older woman. “To offer at this year’s second-hand clothing stall, Miss Evans.”

 

“As a matter of fact,” the elder Miss Evans replies with a self-satisfied smile and sigh. “That is exactly why I am here.”

 

With a groaning heave, she foists the wicker basket, the handle of which she has been grasping in her bony right hand, up onto the trestle table’s surface. She opens one of the floral painted flaps and withdraws a large caramel felt Edwardian style picture hat of voluminous pre-war proportions from within the basket’s interior. The brim of the hat is trimmed with coffee and gold braid, woven into an ornate pattern whilst the crown is smothered in a magnificent display of feathers in curlicues and the brim decorated with sprigs or ornate autumnal shaded foliage and fruit.

 

“As I said, charity begins at home, so I thought I would add some style and panache to your stall, Mrs. Chetwynd, with the addition of this beautiful hat.”

 

“Oh, thank you, Miss Evans.” Arabella says with a sweet, yet slightly forced smile as the older woman tears off a smaller blue stiffed lace hat from a wooden hatstand and replaces it with her enormous millinery confection.

 

“I know it is only a hat from Mrs. Maginot, and not a London milliner,” she looks pointedly at Lettice. “But I dare say it will be more than suitable for our modest little country jumble sale.”

 

“Oh I’m sure it will be,” Arabella lies politely as she looks in dismay at the old fashioned headwear.

 

“Geraldine!” gasps her sister in disbelief. “You love that hat! I remember you had Mrs. Maginot make it for the King’s Coronation celebrations at great expense!”

 

“That’s true, Henrietta, but it just sits in a box at home these days and never gets worn anymore. It seems a shame to hide it away when it could look fetching on another’s head in church on Sunday. No-one will have anything to rival it. Not even you, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

“I agree with that,” whispers Lettice discreetly into Gerald’s ear, unnoticed by either of the spinster sisters. “I’d rather die than be caught in that ghastly thing. It looks every minute of it’s age.”

 

“Just a touch Miss Havisham, don’t you think?” Gerald whispers back, causing both he and Lettice to quietly snort and stifle their giggles.

 

“Well, that really is most kind of you, Miss Evans.” Arabella says loudly and brightly with a polite nod of acknowledgement, anxious to cover up the mischievous titters from her friend and sister-in-law.

 

“It’s my pleasure.” she replies with a beatific smile. “Well, we shan’t hold you up any longer from doing your setting up of the clothes, Mrs. Chetwynd. Come along Henrietta. Let’s go and make sure Mr. Beatty has my floral arrangement in a suitably advantageous place. I’m not having it shunted to the back like last year.”

 

“Oh, yes Geraldine.” her sister replies obsequiously.

 

Lettice, Gerald and Arabella watch as the two old ladies slowly retreat and heave a shared sigh of relief.

 

Gerald deposits his cup on the trestle’s surface and walks up to the grand Edwardian hat and snatches it off the wooden stand before placing it atop his own head with a sweeping gesture. “Do you think it suits me?” he laughs.

 

Lettice and Arabella laugh so much they cannot answer.

 

“Well,” Gerald sighs, returning the hat to the stand. “Even if Hattie could make hats a hundred times more fashionable than this, maybe some local lady who is a bit behind the times will want to take this beauty home.” He arranges it carefully on the rounded block so that it shows off the autumnal themed fruit garland pinned to the wide felt brim.

 

“That’s the spirit I need, Gerald.” Arabella manages to say as she recovers from laughing at her friend’s theatrical modelling of the hat, and quietly she hopes that someone will buy the hat and everything else she has in her remit to sell, to help raise money for schoolbooks for the local village and country children that attend the Glynes Village School.

 

*May 20 1913 saw the first Royal Horticultural Society flower show at Chelsea. What we know today as the Chelsea Flower Show was originally known as the Great Spring Show. The first shows were three day events held within a single marquee. The King and Queen did not attend in 1913, but the King's Mother, Queen Alexandra, attended with two of her children. The only garden to win a gold medal before the war was also in 1913 and was awarded to a rock garden created by John Wood of Boston Spa. In 1919, the Government demanded that the Royal Horticultural Society pay an entertainment tax for the show – with resources already strained, it threatened the future of the Chelsea Flower Show. Thankfully, this was wavered once the Royal Horticultural Society convinced the Government that the show had educational benefit and in 1920 a special tent was erected to house scientific exhibits. Whilst the original shows were housed within one tent, the provision of tents increased after the Great War ended. A tent for roses appeared and between 1920 and 1934, there was a tent for pictures, scientific exhibits and displays of garden design. Society garden parties began to be held, and soon the Royal Horticultural Society’s Great Spring Show became a fixture of the London social calendar in May, attended by society ladies and their debutante daughters, the occasion used to parade the latter by the former. The Chelsea Flower Show, though not so exclusive today, is still a part of the London Season.

 

**A shirtwaister is a woman's dress with a seam at the waist, its bodice incorporating a collar and button fastening in the style of a shirt which gained popularity with women entering the workforce to do clerical work in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries.

 

***Tatting is a technique for handcrafting a particularly durable lace from a series of knots and loops. Tatting can be used to make lace edging as well as doilies, collars, accessories such as earrings and necklaces, and other decorative pieces.

 

****A leg of mutton sleeve is a sleeve that has a lot of fullness around the shoulder-bicep area but is fitted around the forearm and wrist. Also known as a gigot sleeve, they were popular throughout different periods of history, but in particular the first few years of the Twentieth Century.

 

*****’Tight’ is an old fashioned upper-class euphemism for drunk.

 

******Created by a specific style of corset popular between the turn of the Twentieth Century and the outbreak of the Great War, the S-bend is characterized by a rounded, forward leaning torso with hips pushed back. This shape earned the silhouette its name; in profile, it looks similar to a tilted letter S.

 

*******A Sautoir is a long necklace consisting of a fine gold chain and typically set with jewels, a style typically fashionable in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries.

  

Whilst this charming village fête scene may appear real to you, it is in fact part of my 1:12 miniatures collection, including items from my own childhood.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

Perhaps the main focus of our image, the elder Miss Evans’ camel coloured wide brimmed Edwardian picture hat is made of brown felt and is trimmed with miniature coffee coloured braid. The brim is decorated with hand curled feathers, dyed to match the shade of the hat, as well as a spray of golden “grapes” and dyed flowers. Acquired from an American miniatures collector who was divesting herself of some of her collection, I am unsure who the maker was, other than it was made by an American miniature artisan. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable.

 

The shirtwaister dummy, complete with lace blouse, tweed skirt and Art Nouveau belt attached to a lacquered wooden base, is an artisan miniature as well, once again by an unknown person. It came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The divine little patriotic cupcakes, each with a Union Jack on the top, has been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. Each cupcake is only five millimetres in diameter and eight millimetres in height! The plate on which they stand and the teacups on the table are made by the Dolls House Emporium and are part of a larger sets including plates, tureens and gravy boats.

 

Miss Evans’ wicker picnic basket that can be seen peeping out near the right-hand side of the picture was made by an unknown miniature artisan in America. The floral patterns on the top have been hand painted. The hinged lids lift, just like a real hamper, so things can be put inside. When I bought it, it arrived containing the little yellow napkins folded into triangles and the hand embroidered placemats that you see on the table in the foreground.

 

The knitting needles and tiny 1:12 miniature knitting, the red woven straw hat, the doilies, the stockings and the napkins in their round metal rings all came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom. The elbow length grey ttravelling gloves on the table are artisan pieces made of kid leather. I acquired these from a high street dolls house specialist when I was a teenager. Amazingly, they have never been lost in any of the moves that they have made over the years are still pristinely clean.

 

The wooden boxes in the background with their Edwardian advertising labels have been purposely aged and came from The Dolls’ House Supplier in the United Kingdom.

 

The Portrait of King George V in the gilt frame in the background was created by me using a portrait of him done just before the Great War of 1914 – 1918. I also created the Union Jack bunting that is draped across the wall in the background.

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 just a short distance from Cavendish Mews, at Mr. Willison’s grocers’ shop. Willison’s Grocers in Mayfair is where Lettice has an account, and it is from here that Edith, Lettice's maid, orders her groceries for the Cavendish Mews flat, except on special occasions like the soirée that Lettice threw for Dickie and Margot Channon’s engagement, when professional London caterers are used. Mr. Willison prides himself in having a genteel, upper-class clientele including the households of many titled aristocrats who have houses and flats in the neighbourhood, and he makes sure that his shop is always tidy, his shelves well stocked with anything the cook of a duke or duchess may want, and staff who are polite and mannerly to all his important customers. The latter is not too difficult, for aside from himself, Mrs. Willison does his books, his daughter Henrietta helps on Saturdays and sometimes after she has finished school, which means Mr. Willison technically only employs one member of staff: Frank Leadbetter his delivery boy who carries orders about Mayfair on the bicycle provided for him by Mr. Willison. He also collects payments for accounts which are not settled in his Binney Street shop whilst on his rounds.

 

Lettice’s maid, Edith, is stepping out with Frank, and to date since he rather awkwardly suggested the idea to her in the kitchen of the Cavendish Mews flat, the pair has spent every Sunday afternoon together, going to see the latest moving pictures at the Premier in East Ham*, dancing at the Hammersmith Palais or walking in one of London’s many parks. They even spent Easter Monday at the fair held on Hampstead Heath***. Whilst Lettice is away in Cornwall selecting furniture from Dickie and Margot’s Penzance country house, ‘Chi an Treth’, to be re-purposed, Edith is taking advantage of a little more free time and has come to Willison’s Grocers under the pre-text of running an errand in the hope of seeing Frank. The bell rings cheerily as she opens the plate glass door with Mr. Willison’s name painted in neat gilt lettering upon it. Stepping across the threshold she immediately smells the mixture of comforting smells of fresh fruits, vegetables and flour, permeated by the delicious scent of the brightly coloured boiled sweets coming from the large cork stoppered jars on the shop counter. The sounds of the busy street outside die away, muffled by shelves lined with any number of tinned goods and signs advertising everything from Lyon’s Tea**** to Bovril*****.

 

“Miss Watsford!” exclaims Mr. Willison’s wife as she peers up from her spot behind the end of the return counter near the door where she sits doing her husband’s accounts. “We don’t often have the pleasure.”

 

Edith looks up, unnerved, at the proprietor’s wife and bookkeeper, her upswept hairstyle as old fashioned as her high necked starched shirtwaister****** blouse down the front of which runs a long string of faceted bluish black beads. “Yes,” Edith smiles awkwardly. “I… I have, err… that is to say I forgot to give Fr… err, Mr. Leadbeater my grocery list when he visited the other day.”

 

“Oh?” Mrs. Willison queries. “I could have sworn that we had it.” She starts fussing through a pile of papers distractedly. “That isn’t like you Miss Watsford. You’re usually so well organised.”

 

“Well,” Edith thinks quickly. “It… it isn’t really the list. It’s just that I left a few things off. Miss Chetwynd… well, you see she fancies…”

 

“Oh, well give me the additions, Miss Watsford,” Mrs. Willison thrusts out her hand efficiently, the frothy white lace of her sleeve dancing around her wrist. “And I’ll see to it that they are added to your next delivery. We don’t want the Honourable Miss Chetwynd to go without, now do we?”

 

With a shaky hand Edith reluctantly hands over her list of a few extra provisions that aren’t really required, especially with her mistress being away for a few days. As she does, she glances around the cluttered and dim shop hopefully.

 

“Will there be anything else, Miss Watsford?” Mrs. Willison asks curtly.

 

“Err… yes.” Edith stammers, but falls silent as she continues to look in desperation around the shop.

 

Mrs. Willison suspiciously eyes the slender and pretty domestic through her pince-nez*******. She scrutinises Edith’s fashionable plum coloured frock with the pretty lace collar. The hem of the skirt is following the current style and sits higher than any of Mrs. Willison’s own dresses and it reveals Edith’s shapely stockinged calves. She wears her black straw cloche decorated with purple silk roses and black feathers over her neatly pinned chignon. “Is that a few frock, Miss Watsford?” the grocer’s wife continues.

 

“Ahh, yes it is, Mrs. Willison. I made it myself from scratch with a dress pattern from Fashion for All********,” Edith replies proudly, giving a little twirl that sends her calf length skirt flaring out prettily, and Mrs. Willison’s eyebrows arching with disapproval as the young girl reveals even more of her legs as she does. “Do you like it?”

 

“You seem a little dressed up to run an errand here, Miss Watsford.” Mrs. Willison says with bristling disapprobation.

 

“Well, I… I err… I do have some letters to post too, Mrs. Willison,” Edith withdraws two letters from her wicker basket and holds them up in her lilac glove clad hand.

 

“Well, we mustn’t keep you from your errand, now must we, Miss Watsford? Now what else did you require before you leave?” the older woman emphasises the last word in her sentence to make clear her opinion about young girls cluttering up her husband’s shop.

 

“An apple.” Edith says, suddenly struck with inspiration. “I’d like an apple for the journey, Mrs. Willison.”

 

“Very good, Miss Watsford.” the older woman starts to move off her stool. “I’ll fetch…”

 

“No need, Mrs. Willison!” Frank’s cheerful voice pipes up as he appears from behind a display of tinned goods. “I’ll take care of Miss Watsford. That’s what I’m here for. You just stay right there Mrs. Willison. Right this way, Miss Watsford.” He ushers her with a sweeping gesture towards the boxes of fresh fruit displayed near the cash register.

 

“Oh Fran…” Edith catches herself uttering Frank’s given name, quickly correcting herself. “Err… thank you, Mr. Leadbetter.”

 

Mrs. Willison lowers herself back into her seat, all the while eyeing the pair of young people critically as they move across the shop floor together, their heads boughed conspiratorially close, a sense of overfamiliarity about their body language. She frowns, the folds and furrows of her brow eventuated. Then she sighs and returns to the numbers in her ledger.

 

“What are you doing here, Edith?” Frank whispers to his sweetheart quietly, yet with evident delight in his voice.

 

“Miss Lettice is away down in Cornwall on business, so I thought I’d stop in on my way through in the hope of seeing you, Frank.” She glances momentarily over her shoulder. “Then Mrs. Willison greeted me. I thought I was going to get stuck with the disapproving old trout and not see you.”

 

“The weather looks good for Sunday, Edith. It’s supposed to be sunny. Shall we go to Regent’s Park and feed the ducks if it is?”

 

“Oh, yes!” Edith clasps her hands in delight, her gloves muffling the sound. “Maybe there will be a band playing in the rotunda.”

 

“If there is, I’ll hire us a couple of deck chairs and we can listen to them play all afternoon in the sunshine.”

 

“That sounds wonderful, Frank.”

 

“Well,” pronounces Frank loudly as the stand over the wooden tray of red and golden yellow apples. “This looks like a nice juicy one, Miss Watsford.”

 

“Yes,” Edith replies in equally clear tones. “I think I’ll have that one, Mr. Leadbeater.”

 

“Very good, Miss Watsford. I’ll pop it into a paper bag for you.”

 

“Oh, don’t bother Fr… Mr. Leadbeater. I’ll put it in my basket.”

 

Frank takes the apple and walks back around the counter to the gleaming brass cash register surrounded by jars of boiled sweets. “That will be tuppence please, Miss Watsford.” He enters the tally into the noisy register, causing the cash draw to spring open with a clunk and the rattle of coins rubbing against one another with the movement.

 

Edith hooks her umbrella over the edge of the counter, pulls off her gloves and fishes around in her green handbag before withdrawing her small leather coin purse from which she takes out tuppence which she hands over to Frank.

 

“Here,” Frank says after he deposits her money and pushes the drawer of the register closed. He slides a small purple and gold box discreetly across the counter.

 

Edith gasps as she looks at the beautifully decorated box featuring a lady with cascading auburn hair highlighted with gold ribbons, a creamy face and décollétage sporting a frothy white gown and gold necklace. She traces the embossed gold lettering on the box’s lid. “Gainsborough Dubarry Milk Chocolates!”

 

“Can’t have my girl come all this way to see me and not come away with a gift.” Frank whispers with a beaming smile dancing across his face.

 

“Seeing you is gift enough, Frank.” Edith blushes.

 

“Ahem!” Mrs. Willison clears her throat from the other end of the shop. “Will they be going on the Honourable Miss Chetwynd’s account, Frank?” she asks with a severe look directly at her husband’s employee.

 

“Um… no Mrs. Willison. Don’t worry. I’ll be paying for them.” Frank announces loudly. Bending his head closer to Edith, he whispers, “I can see why Mr. Willison has her in here when he isn’t. You can’t get away with anything without her knowing: ghastly old trout.”

 

Edith giggles as she puts the small box of chocolates and the apple into her basket. “I’ll save them for Sunday.” she says with a smile. “We can share them whilst we listen to the band from our deckchairs.”

 

Frank smile broadens even more. “Righty-ho, Edith.”

 

“Righty-ho, Frank.”

 

“Well, as I was saying, Miss Watsford,” Mrs. Willison pronounces from her stool. “We mustn’t keep you from your errands. I’m sure you have a lot to do, and it is almost midday already.”

 

“Yes indeed, Mrs. Willison.” Edith agrees, unable to keep the reluctance out of her voice. “I really should be getting along. Well, goodbye Mr. Leadbeater. Thank you for your assistance.” She then lowers her voice as she says, “See you Sunday.”

 

Both Frank and Mrs. Willison watch as the young lady leaves the shop the way she came, by the front door, a spring in her step and a satisfied smile on her face, her basket, umbrella and handbag slung over her arm.

 

“Frank!”

 

Frank cringes as Mrs. Willison calls his name. Turning around he sees her striding with purpose behind the counter towards him, wending her way through the obstacle course of stacks of tins and jars of produce, hessian sacks of fresh vegetables and fruits and boxes of bottles.

 

“Yes, Mrs Willison?”

 

“Frank,” she says disappointingly. “I can’t stop you from stepping out with a girl in your own time,” She comes to a halt before him, domineering over him with her topknot, her arms akimbo. “And I’d say the Honourable Miss Chetwynd is foolishly modern enough to let you take her maid out on Sundays.” She looks at him with disapproving eyes. “However, I’d be much obliged if you kept your dalliances to your own time, and kindly keep them out of my husband’s establishment during business hours!”

 

“Yes Mrs. Willison!” Frank replies, sighing gratefully, now knowing that he isn’t going to be given notice for chatting with Edith during work hours.

 

“And I’ll make an adjustment to your wages this week for the chocolates.” she adds crisply.

 

“Yes Mrs. Willison.” Frank nods before hurrying away back to the stock room.

 

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

 

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

 

***Hampstead Heath (locally known simply as the Heath) is a large, ancient London heath, covering 320 hectares (790 acres). This grassy public space sits astride a sandy ridge, one of the highest points in London, running from Hampstead to Highgate, which rests on a band of London Clay. The heath is rambling and hilly, embracing ponds, recent and ancient woodlands, a lido, playgrounds, and a training track, and it adjoins the former stately home of Kenwood House and its estate. The south-east part of the heath is Parliament Hill, from which the view over London is protected by law.

 

****Lyons Tea was first produced by J. Lyons and Co., a catering empire created and built by the Salmons and Glucksteins, a German-Jewish immigrant family based in London. Starting in 1904, J. Lyons began selling packaged tea through its network of teashops. Soon after, they began selling their own brand Lyons Tea through retailers in Britain, Ireland and around the world. In 1918, Lyons purchased Hornimans and in 1921 they moved their tea factory to J. Lyons and Co., Greenford at that time, the largest tea factory in Europe. In 1962, J. Lyons and Company (Ireland) became Lyons Irish Holdings. After a merger with Allied Breweries in 1978, Lyons Irish Holdings became part of Allied Lyons (later Allied Domecq) who then sold the company to Unilever in 1996. Today, Lyons Tea is produced in England.

 

*****Bovril is owned and distributed by Unilever UK. Its appearance is similar to Marmite and Vegemite. Bovril can be made into a drink ("beef tea") by diluting with hot water or, less commonly, with milk. It can be used as a flavouring for soups, broth, stews or porridge, or as a spread, especially on toast in a similar fashion to Marmite and Vegemite.

 

******A shirtwaister is a woman's dress with a seam at the waist, its bodice incorporating a collar and button fastening in the style of a shirt which gained popularity with women entering the workforce to do clerical work in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries.

  

*******Pince-nez is a style of glasses, popular in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries, that are supported without earpieces, by pinching the bridge of the nose. The name comes from French pincer, "to pinch", and nez, "nose".

 

********”Fashion for All” was one of the many women’s magazines that were published in the exuberant inter-war years which were aimed at young girls who were looking to better their chances of finding a husband through beauty and fashion. As most working-class girls could only imagine buying fashionable frocks from high street shops, there was a great appetite for dressmaking patterns so they could dress fashionably at a fraction of the cost, by making their own dresses using skills they learned at home.

 

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

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

Central to the conclusion of our story is the dainty box of Gainsborough Dubarry Milk Chocolates. This beautifully printed confectionary box comes from Shepherd’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Starting in the Edwardian era, confectioners began to design attractive looking boxes for their chocolate selections so that they could sell confectionary at a premium, as the boxes were often beautifully designed and well made so that they might be kept as a keepsake. A war erupted in Britain between the major confectioners to try and dominate what was already a competitive market. You might recognise the shade of purple of the box as being Cadbury purple, and if you did, you would be correct, although this range was not marketed as Cadbury’s, but rather Gainsborough’s, paying tribute to the market town of Gainsborough in Lincolnshire, where Rose Bothers manufactured and supplied machines that wrapped chocolates. The Rose Brothers are the people for whom Cadbury’s Roses chocolates are named.

 

Also on the shop counter is an apple which is very realistic looking. Made of polymer clay it is made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany. The brightly shining cash register, probably polished by Frank, was supplied by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in the United Kingdom. The cylindrical jars, made of real spun glass with proper removable cork stoppers which contain “sweets” I acquired as a teenager from an auction as part of a larger lot of miniature items. Edith’s lilac coloured gloves are made of real kid leather and along with the envelopes are artisan pieces that I acquired from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Edith’s green leather handbag I acquired as part of a larger collection of 1:12 artistan miniature hats, bags and accessories I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. The umbrella comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers in the United Kingdom. Edith’s basket I acquired as part of a larger lot of 1:12 miniatures from an E-Bay seller in America.

 

The packed shelves you can see in the background is in fact a Welsh dresser that I have had since I was a child, which I have repurposed for this shot. You can see the dresser more clearly in other images used in this series when Edith visits her parent’s home in Harlesden. The shelves themselves are full of 1:12 artisan miniatures with amazing attention to detail as regards the labels of different foods. Some are still household names today. So many of these packets and tins of various foods would have been household staples in the 1920s when canning and preservation revolutinised domestic cookery. They come from various different suppliers including Shepherds Miniatures in the United Kingdom, Kathleen Knight’s Doll House in the United Kingdom, Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering and Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Items on the shelves include: Tate and Lyall Golden Syrup, Lyall’s Golden Treacle, Peter Leech and Sons Golden Syrup, P.C. Flett and Company jams, Golden Shred and Silver Shred Marmalades, Chiver’s Jelly Crystals, Rowtree’s Table Jelly, Bird’s Custard Powder, Bird’s Blancmange Powder, Coleman’s Mustard, Queen’s Gravy Salts, Bisto Gravy Powder, Huntly and Palmers biscuits, Lyon’s Tea and Typhoo Tea.

 

In 1859 Henry Tate went into partnership with John Wright, a sugar refiner based at Manesty Lane, Liverpool. Their partnership ended in 1869 and John’s two sons, Alfred and Edwin joined the business forming Henry Tate and Sons. A new refinery in Love Lane, Liverpool was opened in 1872. In 1921 Henry Tate and Sons and Abram Lyle and Sons merged, between them refining around fifty percent of the UK’s sugar. A tactical merger, this new company would then become a coherent force on the sugar market in anticipation of competition from foreign sugar returning to its pre-war strength. Tate and Lyle are perhaps best known for producing Lyle’s Golden Syrup and Lyle’s Golden Treacle.

 

Peter Leech and Sons was a grocers that operated out of Lowther Street in Whitehaven from the 1880s. They had a large range of tinned goods that they sold including coffee, tea, tinned salmon and golden syrup. They were admired for their particularly attractive labelling. I do not know exactly when they ceased production, but I believe it may have happened just before the Second World War.

 

P.C. Flett and Company was established in Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands by Peter Copeland Flett. He had inherited a small family owned ironmongers in Albert Street Kirkwall, which he inherited from his maternal family. He had a shed in the back of the shop where he made ginger ale, lemonade, jams and preserves from local produce. By the 1920s they had an office in Liverpool, and travelling representatives selling jams and preserves around Great Britain. I am not sure when the business ceased trading.

 

Golden Shred orange marmalade and Silver Shred lime marmalade still exist today and are common household brands both in Britain and Australia. They are produced by Robertson’s. Robertson’s Golden Shred recipe perfected since 1874 is a clear and tangy orange marmalade, which according to their modern day jars is “perfect for Paddington’s marmalade sandwiches”. Robertson’s Silver Shred is a clear, tangy, lemon flavoured shredded marmalade. Robertson’s marmalade dates back to 1874 when Mrs. Robertson started making marmalade in the family grocery shop in Paisley, Scotland.

 

Chivers is an Irish brand of jams and preserves. For a large part of the Twentieth Century Chivers and Sons was Britain's leading preserves manufacturer. Originally market gardeners in Cambridgeshire in 1873 after an exceptional harvest, Stephen Chivers entrepreneurial sons convinced their father to let them make their first batch of jam in a barn off Milton Road, Impington. By 1875 the Victoria Works had been opened next to Histon railway station to improve the manufacture of jam and they produced stone jars containing two, four or six pounds of jam, with glass jars first used in 1885. In around 1885 they had 150 employees. Over the next decade they added marmalade to their offering which allowed them to employ year-round staff, rather than seasonal workers at harvest time. This was followed by their clear dessert jelly (1889), and then lemonade, mincemeat, custard powder, and Christmas puddings. By 1896 the family owned 500 acres of orchards. They began selling their products in cans in 1895, and the rapid growth in demand was overseen by Charles Lack, their chief engineer, who developed the most efficient canning machinery in Europe and by the end of the century Chivers had become one of the largest manufacturers of preserves in the world. He later added a variety of machines for sorting, can making, vacuum-caps and sterilisation that helped retain Chivers' advantage over its rivals well into the Twentieth Century. By the turn of the century the factory was entirely self-sufficient, growing all its own fruit, and supplying its own water and electricity. The factory made its own cans, but also contained a sawmill, blacksmiths, coopers, carpenters, paint shop, builders and basket makers. On the 14th of March 1901 the company was registered as S. Chivers and Sons. By 1939 there were over 3,000 full-time employees, with offices in East Anglia as well as additional factories in Montrose, Newry and Huntingdon, and the company owned almost 8,000 acres of farms. The company's farms were each run independently, and grew cereal and raised pedigree livestock as well as the fruit for which they were known.

 

Founded by Henry Isaac Rowntree in Castlegate in York in 1862, Rowntree's developed strong associations with Quaker philanthropy. Throughout much of the Nineteenth and Twentieth centuries, it was one of the big three confectionery manufacturers in the United Kingdom, alongside Cadbury and Fry, both also founded by Quakers. In 1981, Rowntree's received the Queen's Award for Enterprise for outstanding contribution to international trade. In 1988, when the company was acquired by Nestlé, it was the fourth-largest confectionery manufacturer in the world. The Rowntree brand continues to be used to market Nestlé's jelly sweet brands, such as Fruit Pastilles and Fruit Gums, and is still based in York.

 

Bird’s were best known for making custard and Bird’s Custard is still a common household name, although they produced other desserts beyond custard, including the blancmange. They also made Bird’s Golden Raising Powder – their brand of baking powder. Bird’s Custard was first formulated and first cooked by Alfred Bird in 1837 at his chemist shop in Birmingham. He developed the recipe because his wife was allergic to eggs, the key ingredient used to thicken traditional custard. The Birds continued to serve real custard to dinner guests, until one evening when the egg-free custard was served instead, either by accident or design. The dessert was so well received by the other diners that Alfred Bird put the recipe into wider production. John Monkhouse (1862–1938) was a prosperous Methodist businessman who co-founded Monk and Glass, which made custard powder and jelly. Monk and Glass custard was made in Clerkenwell and sold in the home market, and exported to the Empire and to America. They acquired by its rival Bird’s Custard in the early Twentieth Century.

 

Queen’s Gravy Salt is a British brand and this box is an Edwardian design. Gravy Salt is a simple product it is solid gravy browning and is used to add colour and flavour to soups stews and gravy - and has been used by generations of cooks and caterers.

 

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

 

Huntley and Palmers is a British firm of biscuit makers originally based in Reading, Berkshire. The company created one of the world’s first global brands and ran what was once the world’s largest biscuit factory. Over the years, the company was also known as J. Huntley and Son and Huntley and Palmer. Huntley and Palmer were renown for their ‘superior reading biscuits’ which they promoted in different varieties for different occasions, including at breakfast time.

 

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

 

Swan Falls offers many places to explore along the south side of the Snake River. No matter which designated campsite you choose to post up at, you’re sure to get outstanding canyon views. Be sure to bring your fishing rod (and fishing license) on this particular hike, smallmouth bass can be found in the calmer waters along the banks of the river. The surrounding area is a combination of old jeep paths and foot trails that are easy to navigate. Bird watching is spectacular – many birds of prey such as owls, hawks, osprey, eagles, and falcons nest along this stretch of the Snake River.

Solitude offers a joy in dance, too. No audience needed, you know the moves by heart.

 

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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 south of the Thames in the middle-class London suburb of Putney in the front room of a red brick Edwardian villa in Hazelwood Road, where Lettice has come to collect a hat from her childhood chum Gerald’s friend, Harriet Milford. The orphaned daughter of a solicitor with little formal education, Harriet has taken in lodgers to earn a living, but more importantly for Lettice, has taken up millinery semi-professionally to give her some pin money*. As Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, has forbidden Lettice to wear a shop bought hat to Leslie, Lettice’s brother’s, wedding in November and Lettice has quarrelled with her own milliner, Madame Gwendolyn, Gerald thought that Harriet might benefit as much from Lettice’s patronage as Lettice will by purchasing one of Harriet’s hats to resolve her fashion conundrum. Today is judgement day as Harriet presents Lettice with her millinery creation.

 

Lettice’s critical eye again glances around the front parlour of the Putney villa, which doubles as Harriet’s sewing room and show room for her hats. She crinkles her nose in distaste. She finds the room’s middle-class chintzy décor an affront to her up-to-date interior design sensitivities, with its flouncy floral Edwardian sofa and roomy armchair by the fire, a pouffe hand embroidered by Harriet’s deceased mother and the busy Edwardian floral wallpaper covered with a mixture of cheap botanical prints and quaint English country scenes, all in gaudy gilded plaster frames. Yet what makes it even worse is that no attempt has been made to tidy the room since her last visit a month ago. Harriet’s concertina sewing box on casters still stands cascaded open next to the armchair, threads, embroidery silks, buttons and ribbons pouring from its compartments like entrails. Hats in different stages of being made up and decorated lie about on furniture or on the floor in a haphazard way. The brightly patterned rug is littered with spools of cotton, scissors, ribbon, artificial flowers and dogeared copies of Weldon’s** magazines. A cardboard hatbox spewing forth a froth of white tissue paper perches precariously on the arm of the sofa, whilst in an equally hazardous position on the right arm of the armchair, a sewing tin threatens to spill its content of threads, thimbles and a black velvet pincushion all over the chair’s seat and the floor.

 

“Sorry, Miss Chetwynd,” Harriet mutters apologetically as she ushers Lettice into the front parlour. “I still haven’t had an opportunity to tidy up in here yet.”

 

“It’s of no consequence, Miss Milford.” Lettice lies as she sweeps into the room swathed in a powder blue coat trimmed with sable that Gerald has made for her. She perches on the sofa in the same place where she sat on her last visit and deposits her crocodile skin handbag against its overstuffed pink and floral arm.

 

“Your censorious gaze and the reproving way you pass that remark tell me otherwise, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

“Are you always so observant, Miss Milford?”

 

“Just like my father,” Harriet replies, glancing up at a very Edwardian photographic portrait of a dour bespectacled man in a large oval frame on the mantelpiece.

 

“I’m sorry Miss Milford,” Lettice acknowledges her criticality politely. “But I must confess I am used to visiting tidier establishments.”

 

“Yes, I suppose Madame Gwendolyn’s shop is far tidier than my front parlour is.” Harriet admits. “But then again, I would imagine that she also has a retinue of staff to keep it so for her.”

 

“Perhaps,” Lettice agrees with a half-smile. “I’m only concerned that if you wish for your little enterprise to be taken seriously, you need to present a professional front. I myself use my own drawing room as a showroom for my clients, so I make sure to keep it tidy when I have clients or prospective clients visiting.”

 

“Or you maid does, Miss Chetwynd: the same one who bakes biscuits for you.”

 

“Touché, Miss Milford.” Lettice replies, cocking her eyebrows in amused surprise at Harriet’s quick, yet adroit remark. “I think your father should have taken more interest in your education. You might have made a very fine lawyer, had you been given the opportunity.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet replies, blushing at the compliment.

 

“The lack of education afforded to women in our country, just because we are women, is a scandal. Yet our patriarchal society is what will ensure that we remain the fairer and less educated sex.”

 

“You sound like you might have made a fine lawyer too, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet acknowledges. “I’m sure had you been born a few decades earlier you would have made a fine suffragette.”

 

“Or a radical.”

 

“However, that isn’t why you’ve come here today. You’ve come about a far more appropriately feminine pursuit, the acquisition of the hat for your brother’s wedding.”

 

“Indeed, Miss Milford. My mother would be suitably gratified to see me passing my time thus rather than in radical discussion, even if she would prefer it was at Madame Gwendolyn’s establishment.”

 

“Then I do hope I shan’t disappoint Lady Sadie, or you, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

Harriet walks over to a corner of the parlour and withdraws a yellow straw hat on a hatstand that she has kept concealed behind a brass firebox. She reverently carries it across the room and deposits it on the tilt chess table sitting empty between the seats of the two women s that Lettice might inspect it closely.

 

“Considering your colourings, the shape of your face and the soft chignon you wear at the nape of your neck, I’ve opted for a rather romantic picture hat rather like that featured on the cover of Weldon’s Spring Fashions.” Harriet explains as she holds up the magazine’s cover next to the hat for Lettice to make comparisons. “I know it’s autumn now, but it has been remarkably mind, and,” she adds. “This is for a wedding after all.”

 

Lettice examines the hat before her. The shape of the wide brimmed hat that sits low on its stand immediately appeals to Lettice, and she can easily see herself wearing it very comfortably. “Very observant again, Miss Milford.” she says approvingly.

 

“As you can see, I’m acknowledging the season and once again trying to compliment your own colourings with the trimmings.” Harriet says proudly as she carefully turns the hat on its stand. “A russet and golden brown satin rose and some ornamental autumnal fruits in golds and vermillion. I hope you will agree.”

 

Lettice reaches out and touches the satin rose, rubbing the luxuriant fabric between her thumb and forefinger with satisfaction. “Agree? Why my dear Miss Milford, you have managed to do something Madame Gwendolyn has never done for me.” She beams with delight. “You have made a hat that suits my personality beautifully. How could I fail but to be pleased? I must confess that I am more impressed with what you have created than I even dared hope for.”

 

“Then may I take it that you won’t quibble over my price of seven guineas, nine and sixpence?” Harriet asks, trying to keep the nerves out of her well modulated voice. She has never charged such an exorbitant price for one of her creations before, but Gerald told her that seven guineas, nine and sixpence should be the price she should ask Lettice for it. Thinking quickly she adds, “It is quite comparable to the cost of a mode from Selfridges.”

 

“You sell your skills to cheaply, Miss Milford.”

 

“I may possibly increase my fees if my ‘little enterprise’ as you continue to call it, really takes off, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

“I shouldn’t speak so disparagingly of your enterprise, Miss Milford. I must sound unspeakably rude and patronising. Please forgive me.”

 

“Rude, no Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet acknowledges.

 

“As amends for my snobby behaviour,” Lettice proffers hopefully. “I shall happily promote your name to anyone at the wedding who asks me who made my hat.”

 

“I’d be grateful, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet replies with a grateful smile. “And I’ll try and get this place tided up should any of your friends come knocking. I did at least keep the telephone connected after father died, so I am in the book. I found it useful to have a telephone for enquiries about rooms to let initially, but now also for queries about hats.”

 

“Most prudent, Miss Milford.”

 

Harriet stands up, reaches past Lettice’s shoulder and takes up the plain cardboard hatbox stuffed with white tissue paper and places it on the seat of her armchair. She proceeds to pick up Lettice’s new hat, and like a mother tucking its child into bed, she lovingly places her creation into the box, nestling it amongst the nosily crumpling paper.

 

“Miss Chetwynd, do you mind if I make another frank observation?” she asks.

 

“My dear Miss Milford, you have made several so far,” Lettice laughs. “Why should I stop you now?”

 

Harriet snatches up the box and resumes her seat, placing the open hatbox on her lap.

 

“I’m glad you said yes Miss Chetwynd, for you see, something has been bothering me since your first visit here.”

 

“And what is that, Miss Milford.”

 

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice how ill at ease you seemed. Could it be because Gerry didn’t tell you about our friendship?”

  

Lettice looks across at Harriet whose mousy brown hair cut into a soft bob frames her pretty face, free of makeup. Her brown eyes have an earnest look in them. Lettice acknowledges Harriet’s question with a quick and curt nod, before casting her eyes down, ashamed that her feelings have been so easily perceived by someone she barely knows.

 

“I thought so.”

 

“I didn’t know you existed until Gerald pulled his motor up outside the front of your house.”

 

“I must confess I’m surprised, as Gerry talks about you all the time. You two are obviously the greatest of friends, and have been since you were children.” Harriet licks her lips a little awkwardly before continuing. “Perhaps he is a little embarrassed by our friendship, after all, I’m not an aristocrat’s daughter like you and some of your other friends he tells me about.”

 

“I’m sure that isn’t true, Miss Milford.” Lettice assures her hostess. “Gerald can be a frightful snob. I’ve pulled him up on it enough in recent times, and,” she admits a little begrudgingly. “He’s done the same with me. If Gerald really was ashamed of you, he wouldn’t have introduced us. That I do know.”

 

“He’s been wonderful to me since we met. I’m not sure if he told you, but I’m guessing not if he didn’t really tell you about me prior to our first meeting, but we met at the haberdashers we share in Fulham.”

 

“That Gerald did tell me.”

 

“Well, he’s given me encouragement and guidance as I try to get this millinery business up and running, and, well after my difficulties with the handsy General when I first started letting rooms, I feel more comfortable with gentlemen friends who don’t want to paw me.”

 

“Like Gerald and your Cyril, you mean.”

 

“Yes.” Harriet acknowledges with a blush.

 

“Where is Cyril, by the way? I haven’t heard his oboe playing today.”

 

“He’s in Norfolk, visiting his mother.” Harriet explains. She hesitates for a moment before carrying on. “I’ve never had many friends, you see. I was always the shy one at school, and not at all popular. What few friends I have had up until recently have been rather bookish and shy like me, so it was like a breath of fresh air when Gerry took an interest in plain and shy little me.”

 

“Hardly plain, Miss Milford.” Lettice counters kindly.

 

“You do know that I’d never want to intrude on your friendship with Gerry, don’t you? You’re his oldest and best friend, and he’s so proud of you and how you’ve set up your own business all by yourself. You inspire him you know.” Lettice blushes and glances back down into her lap at Harriet’s admission. “And you’re such a chum to him. He says you use the word ‘brick’ to describe your good friends, so you are his ‘brick’ then. Now that I know that he didn’t tell you about me, I must have come across as an interloper: a middle-class girl of no particular note trying to usurp you in Gerry’s affections. However, I can assure you that I’m not. Your friendship with him is perfectly safe. I’m just happy to bask in Gerry’s minor attentions for as long as he wishes to bestow them upon me.”

 

“Well, I must confess that I did suffer a few pangs of jealously when I first saw the two of you being so familiar together, but I realised after we left you, that you are no threat. Gerald and I had a frank conversation of our own on the way home.” Lettice admits. “Not that Gerald is bound to me by any means. He can be friends with whomever he likes, and so long as his dalliances with gentlemen are discreet, I’m happy. He just needs to be careful in that respect.”

 

“I tell Cyril the same thing.”

 

“So, if Gerald wants to be friends with you, who am I to argue? All the same, I am pleased to hear from you that you are no threat, Miss Milford.”

 

“Not at all, Miss Chetwynd.” She sighs with relief and places the lid on the hatbox on her lap before putting it aside. “Well, now that we have that awkward little conversation out of the way, might I interest you in some tea?”

 

“Some tea would be splendid, Miss Milford. Thank you.”

 

Harriet gets up and walks across the room. As she reaches the threshold of the parlour door she turns back and says, “You know we really do have quite a lot in common, you know, Miss Chetwynd?”

 

“How so, Miss Milford?” Lettice looks up from smoothing down the hem of her frock over her knees.

 

“Well, we both have Gerry as our friend, and we are both forward thinking women in a patriarchal world.”

 

“That’s true, Miss Milford.”

 

“We both are trying to establish names for ourselves, albeit in different areas. And we both have progressed ourselves in spite of our parents’ lack of interest in furthering our education. We could almost form a sisterhood.”

 

Lettice doesn’t necessarily agree with Harriet’s point about her education, which is quite presumptuous. Her father, the Viscount Wrexham, unlike Lady Sadie, was quite indulgent with Lettice’s education, giving her far more opportunities than were afforded to her elder sister Lally. Harriet realises that she has overstepped the mark by being overly familiar when she sees a cool steeliness darken Lettice’s sparkling blue eyes and harden her features slightly, but it is too late for her to retract her words.

 

“I wouldn’t go so far as to presume that we will ever be bosom friends***, Miss Milford. However, let me get used to your existence,” Lettice concedes with all the good grace of a Viscount’s daughter. “And I’m sure that we can be friends of a sort that goes beyond a passing acquaintance or an agreeable business arrangement.”

 

“Very well, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet replies with a half-smile. “I’ll be satisfied with that. Better that we be friends of a sort than enemies for no reason. I think as women wanting to forward ourselves in this male dominated world, we probably have enough of them as it is.”

 

“Perhaps, Miss Milford. Let us see.”

 

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

 

**Created by British industrial chemist and journalist Walter Weldon Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was the first ‘home weeklies’ magazine which supplied dressmaking patterns. Weldon’s Ladies’ Journal was first published in 1875 and continued until 1954 when it ceased publication.

 

***The term bosom friend is recorded as far back as the late Sixteenth Century. In those days, the bosom referred to the chest as the seat of deep emotions, though now the word usually means a woman's “chest.” A bosom friend, then, is one you might share these deep feelings with or have deep feelings for.

 

Contrary to popular belief, fashion at the beginning of the Roaring 20s did not feature the iconic cloche hat as a commonly worn head covering. Although invented by French milliner Caroline Reboux in 1908, the cloche hat did not start to gain popularity until 1922, so even though this story is set in that year, picture hats, a hangover from the pre-war years, were still de rigueur in fashionable society and whilst Lettice is fashionable, she and many other fashionable women still wore the more romantic picture hat. Although nowhere near as wide, heavy, voluminous or as ornate as the hats worn by women between the turn of the Twentieth Century and the Great War, the picture hats of the 1920s were still wide brimmed, although they were generally made of straw or some lightweight fabric and were decorated with a more restrained touch.

 

This rather cluttered and chaotic scene of a drawing room cum workroom may look real to you, but believe it or not, it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my teenage years.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

At the centre of our story is Lettice’s yellow straw hat decorated with ornamental flowers, fruit and organza. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. The maker of this hat is unknown, but it is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. The hat stand the hat rests on is also part of Marilyn Bickel’s collection.

 

The copy of Weldon’s Dressmaker Spring Fashions edition on the tabletop is a 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. In this case, the magazine is non-opening, however what might amaze you is that all Ken Blythe’s books and magazines are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. 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, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.

 

The spools of ribbon, the tape measure, the silver sewing scissors in the shape of a stork and the box of embroidery threads and the box of cottons I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House in the United Kingdom.

 

The tilt chess table on which these items stand I bought from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

The concertina sewing box on casters to the left of the photograph which you can see spilling forth its contents is an artisan miniature made by an unknown artist in England. It comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the in the United Kingdom. All the box’s contents including spools of ribbons, threads scissors and buttons on cards came with the work box. The box can completely expand or contract, just like its life-sized equivalent.

 

The round white metal sewing tin on the armchair is another artisan piece I have had since I was a young teenager. If you look closely you will see it contains a black velvet pin cushion, a pair of sewing scissors, needles, threads and two thimbles. Considering this is a 1:12 artisan miniature, imagine how minute the thimbles are! This I bought from a high street shop that specialised in dolls and doll house furnishings. It does have a lid which features artificial flowers and is trimmed with braid, but I wanted to show off the contents of the tin in this image, so it does not feature.

 

The spools of yellow, purple and blue cottons come from various online shops who sell dollhouse miniatures.

 

The bookshelf in the background comes from Babette’s Miniatures, who have been making miniature dolls’ furnishings since the late eighteenth century.

 

Harriet’s family photos seen cluttering the bookshelf in the background are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each. The castle shaped cottage orneé (pastille burner) on the bookshelf has been hand made, painted and gilded by Welsh miniature ceramist Rachel Williams who has her own studio, V&R Miniatures, in Powys. The bowl decorated with fruit on the bookshelf was hand decorated by British artisan Rachael Maundy.

 

Lettice’s snakeskin handbag with its gold clasp and chain comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The parlour palm in its striped ceramic pot I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The floral chintz settee and chair and the Art Nouveau china cabinet are made by J.B.M. miniatures who specialise in well made pieces of miniature furniture made to exacting standards.

 

The paintings and prints on the walls all come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House in the United Kingdom.

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 not in Lettice’s flat, and whilst we have not travelled that far physically across London, the tough streets, laneways and blind alleys of Poplar in London’s East End is a world away from Lettice’s rarefied and privileged world. On Tuesday Mrs. Boothby, Lettice’s charwoman*, discovered that Edith, Lettice’s maid, didn’t have a sewing machine when the Cockney cleaner found the young maid cutting out the pieces for a new frock. Mrs. Boothby made overtures towards Edith, inviting her to her home in Poplar in London’s East End with an air of mystery, saying she might be able to help her with her predicament of a sewing machine.

 

Friends of Lettice, newlyweds Margot and Dickie Channon, have been gifted a Recency country “cottage residence” called ‘Chi an Treth’ (Cornish for ‘beach house’) in Penzance as a wedding gift by the groom’s father, the Marquess of Taunton. Margot in her desire to turn ‘Chi an Treth’ from a dark Regency house to a more modern country house flooded with light, has commissioned Lettice to help redecorate some of the rooms in a lighter and more modern style, befitting a modern couple like the Channons. Lettice has decamped to Penzance for a week where she is overseeing the painting and papering of ‘Chi an Treth’s’ drawing room, dining room and main reception room, before fitting it out with a lorryload of new and repurposed furnishings, artwork and objets d’arte that she has had sent down weeks prior to her arrival. In her mistress’ absence, Edith has more free time on her hands, and so she was able to agree to Mrs. Boothby’s mysterious invitation. Even though she is happy with her current arrangement to take any items she wants to sew home to her parent’s house in Harlesden, where she can use her mother’s Singer** sewing machine on her days off. The opportunity of gaining access to a sewing machine of her own is too good for Edith to refuse.

 

Now the two women walk through the narrow streets of Poplar, passing along walkways, some concrete, some made of wooden planks and some just dirt, between tenements of two and three stories high. The streets they traverse are dim with the weakening afternoon light from the autumn sky blocked out by the overhanging upper floors of the buildings and the strings of laundry hanging limply along lines between them. Although Edith is not unfamiliar with the part of Whitechapel around Petticoat Lane*** where she shops for second hand clothes to alter and for haberdashery to do them, she still feels nervous in the unfamiliar maze of streets that Mrs. Boothby is guiding her down, and she sticks closely next to or directly behind the old Cockney char. The air is filled with a mixture of strong odours: paraffin oil, boiled cabbage and fried food intermixed with the pervasive stench of damp and unwashed bodies and clothes. Self-consciously, Edith pulls her three quarter length coat more tightly around her in an effort to protect herself from the stench.

 

“Below!” comes a Cockney female voice from above as a sash window groans in protest as it is opened.

 

“Ere! Look out, Edith dearie!” Mrs. Boothby exclaims, grabbing Edith by the arm and roughly pulling the maid out of the way, thrusting her behind her.

 

A moment later the air is filled with the harsh sound of slops splattering against the concrete path, and a pool of dirty liquid stains the concrete a dark muddy brown as it slowly dribbles down into a shallow drain that runs down the middle of the laneway.

 

“Wouldn’t want your nice clothes to get spoilt nah, would we dearie.” Mrs. Boothby says as she turns and smiles into Edith’s startled face.

 

“Was that?” Edith begins but doesn’t finish her question as she peers at the puddle draining away, leaving lumps on the path.

 

“I shouldn’t look too closely if I were you, dearie.” Mrs. Boothby says kindly in a matter-of-fact way. “If you ‘ave to ask, you’re better off not knowin’. That’s my opinion, anyway. Come on. Not much further nah.”

 

“You… you will take me home, won’t you Mrs. Boothby?” Edith asks a little nervously as they continue their progress down the lane which she notices is getting narrower and darker as they go.

 

“Course I will, dearie! You can rely on old Ida Boothby. I know these streets like the back of my ‘and. Youse perfectly safe wiv me.”

 

The laneway ends suddenly, and Edith is blinded for a moment by bright sunlight as they step out into a rookery**** with two storey Victorian tenements of grey stone and red brick either side of a concrete courtyard with a narrow drain running down its centre. The original builders or owners of the tenements obviously have meant for the sad buildings to be at least a little homely, with shutters painted a Brunswick green hanging to either side of the ground floor windows. Looking up, Edith notices several window boxes of brightly coloured geraniums and other flowers suspended from some of the upper floor windowsills. Women of different ages walk in and out of the open front doors, or sit in them on stools doing mending, knitting or peeling potatoes, all chatting to one another, whilst children skip and play on the concrete of the courtyard.

 

“Welcome to Merrybrook Place,” Mrs. Boothby says with a hint of pride in her voice. “My ‘ome. Though Lawd knows why they called it that. I ain’t never seen no brook, merry or otherwise, runnin’ dahn ‘ere, unless it’s the slops from the privvies dahn the end.” She points to the end of the rookery where, overlooked by some older tenements of brick and wooden shingling most likely from the early Nineteenth Century, a couple of ramshackle privies stand. “So just watch your step, Edith dearie. We don’t want you steppin’ your nice shoes in nuffink nasty.” She gives her a warm smile. “Come on.”

 

As they start walking up the rookery, one woman wrapped in a paisley shawl stands in her doorway staring at Edith with undisguised curiosity and perhaps a little jealousy as she casts her critical gaze over her simple, yet smart, black coat and dyed straw hat decorated with silk flowers and feathers.

 

“Wanna paint a picture Mrs. Friedmann?” Mrs. Boothby calls out hotly to her, challenging her open stare with a defensive one of her own. “Might last you longer, your royal ‘ighness!” She makes a mock over exaggerated curtsey towards her, hitching up the hem of her workday skirts.

 

The woman tilts her head up slightly, sniffs in disgust and looks down her nose with spite at both Edith and the Cockney charwoman before muttering something in a language Edith doesn’t need to speak to understand. Turning on her heel, the woman slams her door sharply behind her, the noise echoing off the hard surfaces of the court.

 

“Who was that, Mrs. Boothby?” Edith asks nervously.

 

“Lawd love you dearie,” chortles Mrs. Boothby, the action resulting on one of her fruity hacking coughs that seem remarkably loud from such a diminutive figure. “That’s that nasty local Yid***** matchmaker what I told you ‘bout.” Raising her voice she continues, speaking loudly at the closed door. “Golda Friedmann goes around wiv ‘er nose in the air wrapped up in that fancy paisley shawl actin’ like she was the Queen of Russia ‘erself. But she ain’t! She’s no better than the rest of us.”

 

As Mrs. Boothby trudges on up the rookery another doorway opens and an old woman with a figure that shows many years of childbirth steps out, dressed in a black skirt and an old fashioned but pretty floral print Edwardian high necked blouse. “Afternoon Ida.”

 

“Oh! Afternoon Lil!” Mrs. Boothby replies. “Oh Lil! I got somefink in ‘ere for you.” She opens up her capacious blue beaded bag and fossicks around making the beads rattle before withdrawing a couple of thin pieces of soap, one bar a bright buttercup yellow, a second pink and the last white. “’Ere. For the kiddies.”

 

“Oh fanks ever so, Ida!” the other woman replies, gratefully accepting the pieces of soap in her careworn hands.

 

“Edith,” Mrs. Boothby calls. “This ‘ere is my neighbour, Mrs. Conway.” A couple of cheeky little faces with sallow cheeks, but bright eyes, poke out from behind Mrs. Conway’s skirts and smile up shyly at Edith with curiosity. “Hullo kiddies.” Mrs. Boothby says to them. “Nah sweeties from me today. Sorry. Mrs. Conway, this ‘ere is Miss Watsford, what works for one of my ladies up in Mayfair.”

 

“Oh ‘ow do you do?” Mrs. Conway says, wiping her hands down her skirts before reaching out a hand to Edith.

 

“How do you do, Mrs. Conway.” Edith replies with a gentle smile, taking her hand, and feeling her rough flesh rub against her own as the old woman’s bony fingers entwine hers.

 

“Well, must be getting on, Lil,” Mrs. Boothby says. “Ta-ta.”

 

“Ta-ra, Ida. Ta-ra Miss Watsford.” Mrs. Conway replies before turning back and shooing the children inside good naturedly.

 

“Goodbye Mrs, Conway. It was nice to meet you.” Edith says.

 

At the next door, one painted Brunswick green like the shutters, Mrs. Boothby stops and takes out a large string of keys from her bag and promptly finds the one for her own front door. As the key engages with the lock the door groans in protest as it slowly opens. The old woman says, “Just stand ‘ere in the doorway, Edith dearie, while I’ll open the curtains.”

 

She disappears into the gloom, which vanishes a moment later as with a flourish, she flings back some heavy red velvet curtains, flooding the room with light from the front window. It takes a moment for Edith’s eyes to adjust as the old Cockney woman stands for a moment in the pool of light, so brilliant after the gloom, surrounded by a floating army of illuminated dust motes tumbling over one another in the air. As her eyes adjust, Edith discerns things within the tenement front room: a kitchen table not too unlike her own at Cavendish Mews, a couple of sturdy ladderback chairs, an old fashioned black leaded stove and a sink in the corner.

 

“Close the door behind you and come on in, dearie. The ‘ouse is still warmish from this mornin’.” Mrs. Boothby says kindly as she tosses her beaded handbag carelessly onto the table where it lands with a thud and the jangle of beads. “Take a seat and I’ll get the range goin’ and pop the kettle on for a nice cup of Rosie-Lee******! I dunno ‘bout you, but I’m parched.”

 

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith replies as she closes the door.

 

Shutting out the unpleasant mixture of odours outside with the closing of the door, Edith is comforted by the smells of carbolic soap and lavender. Looking about she notices a couple of little muslin bags hanging from the curtains.

 

“Good. Nah, give me your ‘at ‘n coat and I’ll ‘ang them up.” Mrs. Boothby says. Noticing Edith’s gaze upon the pouches she explains. “Lavender to ‘elp keep the moths and the smells from the privy at bay.”

 

“Oh.” Edith replies laconically.

 

As Mrs. Boothby hangs up Edith’s coat and hat as well as her own on a hook behind the door and then bustles about stoking up the embers of the fire left in the stove, Edith says, “Mrs. Conway seems like a nice person to have as your neighbour, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

“She’s a good un, that one. She takes care of all the little kiddies round ‘n ‘bout while their parents is at work.” Mrs. Boothby throws some coal into the stove and shoves it with a poker. “She’s got an ‘eart of gold she does. I owe ‘er a lot. She does ‘er best by them kiddies. Gives ‘em a meal made outta what she can, which for some might be the only meal they get. And she gives ‘em a good bath too when she can. That’s why I give ‘er the left over soap ends from the ‘ouses I go to.”

 

“Oh I’m sorry Mrs. Boothby. I always take Miss Lettice’s soap ends to Mum to grate up and make soap flakes from for washing.”

 

“Ahh, don’t worry dearie. I gets plenty from some of the other ‘ouses I go to. Some of ‘em even throws out bars of soap what’s been barely used cos they get cracked and they don’t like the look of ‘em no more. Some of them ladies up the West End don’t know just ‘ow lucky they is to ‘ave as many bars of soap as they like. Nah, you keep takin’ Miss Lettice’s ends to your mum. So long as they’s bein’ used, I’m ‘appy. Waste not, want not, I always say.”

 

With nothing to do whilst the older woman goes about filling the large kettle with water from the sink in the corner of the room, Edith has more time to look at her surroundings. The floor is made of wooden boards whilst the walls are covered in a rather dark green wallpaper featuring old fashioned Art Nouveau patterns. The house must one have had owners or tenants with grander pretentions than Mrs. Boothby for the stove is jutting out of a much larger fireplace surround, which although chipped and badly discoloured from years of coal dust, cooking and cigarette smoke, is marble. However, it is the profusion of ornaments around the small room that catches the young girl’s eye. Along the mantle of the original fireplace stand a piece of Staffordshire, a prettily painted cow creamer, a jug in the shape of a duck coming out of an egg and a teapot in the shape of Queen Victoria. Turning around behind her to where Mrs. Boothby gathers a pretty blue and white china teapot, some cups, saucers and a sugar bowl, she sees a large dresser that is cluttered with more decorative plates, teapots, jugs, tins and a cheese dish in the shape of a cottage.

 

“Not what you was expectin’ I’ll warrant.” Mrs, Boothby remarks with a knowing chuckle that causes her to emit yet another of her throaty coughs.

 

“Oh no Mrs. Boothby!” Edith replies, blushing with shame at being caught out staring about her so shamelessly. “I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I mean… I had no expectations.”

 

“Well, it’s nuffink special, but this is my ‘aven of calm and cleanliness away from the dirty world out there.” She points through the window where, when Edith turns her head, she can see several scrawny children playing marbles on the concrete of the courtyard. “And it’s ‘ome to me.”

 

“Oh yes, it’s lovely and clean and cheerful, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith assures her hostess. “No, I was just admiring all your pretty crockery. It reminds me of my Mum’s kitchen, actually. She is always collecting pretty china and pottery.”

 

“Well, who was it what told you to go dahn to the Caledonian Markets******* to buy a gift for your mum?” the old woman says with a cheeky wink. “Me that who!” She pokes her chest proudly, before coughing heavily again.

 

“So did you get all these from the Caledonian Markets then, Mrs. Boothby?” Edith asks, looking around again.

 

“Well, most, but not all. I got meself an art gallery from the Caledonian Markets, for when I washes the dishes.” She points to two cheap prints of classic paintings in equally cheap wooden frames hanging on the walls above the little sink. “Better than starin’ at a blank wall, even if it’s covered in wallpaper. Course, some a them ladies up the West End is awfully wasteful wiv much more than soap, and just like them soap ends, I get my share. Somethin’ a bit old fashioned or got a tiny chip in it and they’s throwin’ it out like it was a piece of rubbish, so I offer ta take it. Take that nice cow up there,” She points to the cow creamer on the mantle. “The lid got lost somewhere, so the lady from Belgravia what owned it told ‘er maid to throw it out, so I said I’d take it instead. That,” She points to the Staffordshire statue. “Was one of a pair, what the uvver ‘alf got broken, so it was being chucked, so I took it. I don’t care if it don’t ‘ave the uvver ‘alf. I like it as it is. It’s pretty. The Queen Victoria teapot was getting’ chucked out just ‘cos the old Queen died, and King Bertie was takin’ ‘er place. Well, I wasn’t ‘avin’ none of that. Poor old Queen! I said I’d ‘ave it if no-one else wanted it. And this teapot,” She withdraws the pretty blue and white china teapot from atop the stove. “This was just bein’ thrown out ‘cos it’s old and they’s no bits of the set left but this. But there ain’t nuffink wrong wiv it, and it must be at least a ‘undred years old!”

 

Mrs. Boothby pulls out a gilt edged blue and white cake plate which she puts on the table along with the tea cups, sugar bowl and milk jug. She then goes to the dresser and pulls down a pretty tin decorated with Art Nouveau ladies from which she takes several pieces of shortbread, which she places on the cake plate.

 

“That’s very lovely, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith points to a teapot in the shape of a rabbit sitting in a watering can. “It looks rather like Peter Rabbit.”

 

“Ahh… my Ken loves that too.” Edith’s ears prick at the mention of someone named Ken, but she doesn’t have time to ask who he is before Mrs. Boothby continues, “That bunny rabbit teapot is one of the few pieces I got what ‘as a sad story what goes wiv it. Poor lady what I cleaned for up in St. James’, it were ‘er baby’s, from the nursery, you know?” Edith nods in understanding. “Well, ‘e died. ‘E was a weak little mite ‘e were, ever since ‘e was born, and my poor lady was so upset when ‘e died that she got rid of everyfink in the nursery. She didn’t want nuffink to remind her of that little baby. So, I brought it ‘ome wiv me.” She sighs. “Well, the kettle’s boiled now, so ‘ow about a cup of Rosie-Lee, dearie?”

 

A short while later, Edith and Mrs. Boothby are seated around Mrs. Boothby’s kitchen table with the elegant Regency teapot, some blue and white china cups and the plate of shortbreads before them.

 

“Oh I tell you Edith dearie, I’m dying for a fag!” Mrs Boothby says. She starts fossicking through her capacious beaded bag before withdrawing her cigarette papers, Swan Vestas and tin of Player’s Navy Cut. Rolling herself a cigarette she lights it with a satisfied sigh and one more of her fruity coughs, dropping the match into a black ashtray that sits on the table full of cigarette butts. Mrs. Boothby settles back happily in her ladderback chair with her cigarette in one hand and reaches out, taking up a shortbread biscuit with the other. Blowing out a plume of blue smoke that tumbles through the air around them, the old woman continues. “Nah, about this sewin’ machine. My Ken’ll be ‘ome soon, I ‘ope. ‘E’s a bit late today.”

 

“Mrs. Boothby, who is Ken?” Edith asks with a questioning look on her face.

 

Just as Mrs. Boothby is about to answer her, she gasps as she hears a rather loud and jolly whistle.

 

“Well, speak of the devil, ‘ere ‘e comes nah!”

 

The front door of the tenement flies open and the space is instantly filled by the bulk of a big man in a flat cap with a large parcel wrapped in newspaper tied with twine under his right arm.

 

*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.

 

**The Singer Corporation is an American manufacturer of consumer sewing machines, first established as I. M. Singer & Co. in 1851 by Isaac M. Singer with New York lawyer Edward C. Clark. Best known for its sewing machines, it was renamed Singer Manufacturing Company in 1865, then the Singer Company in 1963. In 1867, the Singer Company decided that the demand for their sewing machines in the United Kingdom was sufficiently high to open a local factory in Glasgow on John Street. The Vice President of Singer, George Ross McKenzie selected Glasgow because of its iron making industries, cheap labour, and shipping capabilities. Demand for sewing machines outstripped production at the new plant and by 1873, a new larger factory was completed on James Street, Bridgeton. By that point, Singer employed over two thousand people in Scotland, but they still could not produce enough machines. In 1882 the company purchased forty-six acres of farmland in Clydebank and built an even bigger factory. With nearly a million square feet of space and almost seven thousand employees, it was possible to produce on average 13,000 machines a week, making it the largest sewing machine factory in the world. The Clydebank factory was so productive that in 1905, the U.S. Singer Company set up and registered the Singer Manufacturing Company Ltd. in the United Kingdom.

 

***Petticoat Lane Market is a fashion and clothing market in Spitalfields, London. It consists of two adjacent street markets. Wentworth Street Market and Middlesex Street Market. Originally populated by Huguenots fleeing persecution in France, Spitalfields became a center for weaving, embroidery and dying. From 1882, a wave of Jewish immigrants fleeing persecution in eastern Europe settled in the area and Spitalfields then became the true heart of the clothing manufacturing district of London. 'The Lane' was always renowned for the 'patter' and showmanship of the market traders. It was also known for being a haven for the unsavoury characters of London’s underworld and was rife with prostitutes during the late Victorian era. Unpopular with the authorities, as it was largely unregulated and in some sense illegal, as recently as the 1930s, police cars and fire engines were driven down ‘The Lane’, with alarm bells ringing, to disrupt the market.

 

****A rookery is a dense collection of housing, especially in a slum area. The rookeries created in Victorian times in London’s East End were notorious for their cheapness, filth and for being overcrowded.

 

*****The word Yid is a Jewish ethnonym of Yiddish origin. It is used as an autonym within the Ashkenazi Jewish community, and also used as slang. When pronounced in such a way that it rhymes with did by non-Jews, it is commonly intended as a pejorative term. It is used as a derogatory epithet, and as an alternative to, the English word 'Jew'. It is uncertain when the word began to be used in a pejorative sense by non-Jews, but some believe it started in the late Nineteenth or early Twentieth Century when there was a large population of Jews and Yiddish speakers concentrated in East London, gaining popularity in the 1930s when Oswald Mosley developed a strong following in the East End of London.

 

******Rosie-Lee is Cockney slang for tea, and it is one of the most well-known of all Cockney rhyming slang.

 

*******The original Caledonian Market, renown for antiques, buried treasure and junk, was situated in in a wide cobblestoned area just off the Caledonian Road in Islington in 1921 when this story is set. Opened in 1855 by Prince Albert, and originally called the Metropolitan Meat Markets, it was supplementary to the Smithfield Meat Market. Arranged in a rectangle, the market was dominated by a forty six metre central clock tower. By the early Twentieth Century, with the diminishing trade in live animals, a bric-a-brac market developed and flourished there until after the Second World War when it moved to Bermondsey, south of the Thames, where it flourishes today. The Islington site was developed in 1967 into the Market Estate and an open green space called Caledonian Park. All that remains of the original Caledonian Markets is the wonderful Victorian clock tower.

 

I would just like to point out that I wrote this story some weeks ago, long before The Queen became ill and well before her passing. However it seems apt that this story of all, which I planned weeks ago to upload today as part of the Chetwyn Mews narrative, mentions the passing of The Queen (albeit Queen Victoria). I wish to dedicate this image and chapter to our own Queen of past and glorious times Queen Elizabeth II (1926 – 2022). Long did she reign over us, happy and glorious. God bless The Queen.

 

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

 

Mrs. Boothby’s beloved collection of ornaments come from various different sources. The Staffordshire cow (one of a pair) and the cow creamer that stand on the mantlepiece have been hand made and painted by Welsh miniature ceramist Rachel Williams who has her own studio, V&R Miniatures, in Powys. If you look closely, you will see that the Staffordshire cow actually has a smile on its face! Although you can’t notice it in the photo, the cow creamer has its own removable lid which is minute in size! The duck coming from the egg jug on the mantle, the rooster jug, the cottage ware butter dish, Peter Rabbit in the watering can tea pot and the cottage ware teapot to its right on the dresser were all made by French ceramicist and miniature artisan Valerie Casson. All the pieces are authentic replicas of real pieces made by different china companies. For example, the cottage ware teapot has been decorated authentically and matches in perfect detail its life-size Price Washington ‘Ye Olde Cottage Teapot’ counterparts. The top part of the thatched roof and central chimney form the lid, just like the real thing. Valerie Casson is renown for her meticulously crafted and painted miniature ceramics. The Queen Victoria teapot on the mantlepiece and the teapot on the dresser to the left of the Peter Rabbit teapot come from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom. All the other plates on the dresser came from various online miniature stockists through E-Bay, as do the teapot, plate and cups on Mrs. Boothby’s kitchen table.

 

Mrs. Boothby’s picture gallery in the corner of the room come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

Mrs. Boothby’s beaded handbag on the table is also a 1:12 artisan miniature. Hand crocheted, it is interwoven with antique blue glass beads that are two millimetres in diameter. The beads of the handle are three millimetres in length. It came from Karen Ladybug Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

Spilling from her bag are her Player’s Navy Cut cigarette tin and Swan Vesta matches, which are 1:12 miniatures hand made by Jonesy’s Miniatures in England. The black ashtray is also an artisan piece, the bae of which is filled with “ash”. The tray as well as having grey ash in it, also has a 1:12 cigarette which rests on its lip (it is affixed there). Made by Nottingham based tobacconist manufacturer John Player and Sons, Player’s Medium Navy Cut was the most popular by far of the three Navy Cut brands (there was also Mild and Gold Leaf, mild being today’s rich flavour). Two thirds of all the cigarettes sold in Britain were Player’s and two thirds of these were branded as Player’s Medium Navy Cut. In January 1937, Player’s sold nearly 3.5 million cigarettes (which included 1.34 million in London). Production continued to grow until at its peak in the late 1950s, Player’s was employing 11,000 workers (compared to 5,000 in 1926) and producing 15 brands of pipe tobacco and 11 brands of cigarettes. Nowadays the brands “Player” and “John Player Special” are owned and commercialised by Imperial Brands (formerly the Imperial Tobacco Company). Swan Vestas is a brand name for a popular brand of ‘strike-anywhere’ matches. Shorter than normal pocket matches they are particularly popular with smokers and have long used the tagline ‘the smoker’s match’ although this has been replaced by the prefix ‘the original’ on the current packaging. Swan Vestas matches are manufactured under the House of Swan brand, which is also responsible for making other smoking accessories such as cigarette papers, flints and filter tips. The matches are manufactured by Swedish Match in Sweden using local, sustainably grown aspen. The Swan brand began in 1883 when the Collard & Kendall match company in Bootle on Merseyside near Liverpool introduced ‘Swan wax matches’. These were superseded by later versions including ‘Swan White Pine Vestas’ from the Diamond Match Company. These were formed of a wooden splint soaked in wax. They were finally christened ‘Swan Vestas’ in 1906 when Diamond merged with Bryant and May and the company enthusiastically promoted the Swan brand. By the 1930s ‘Swan Vestas’ had become ‘Britain’s best-selling match’.

 

The meagre foodstuffs on Mrs. Boothby’s shelf represent items not unusually found in poorer households across Britain. Before the Second World War, the British populace consumed far more sugar than we do today, partially for the poor because it was cheap and helped give people energy when their diets were lacking good nutritious foods. Therefore finding a tin of treacle, some preserved fruit or jam, and no fresh fruits or vegetables was not an unusual sight in a lower class home. All the tined foodstuffs, with the exception of the tin of S.P.C. peaches, are 1:12 size artisan miniatures made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire, with great attention to detail paid to their labels and the shapes of their jars and cans. The S.P.C. tin of peaches comes from Shepherd’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom. S.P.C. is an Australian brand that still exists to this day. In 1917 a group of fruit growers in Victoria’s Goulburn Valley decided to form a cooperative which they named the Shepperton Fruit Preserving Company. The company began operations in February 1918, canning pears, peaches and nectarines under the brand name of S.P.C. On the 31st of January 1918 the manager of the Shepparton Fruit Preserving Company announced that canning would begin on the following Tuesday and that the operation would require one hundred and fifty girls or women and thirty men. In the wake of the Great War, it was hoped that “the launch of this new industry must revive drooping energies” and improve the economic circumstances of the region. The company began to pay annual bonuses to grower-shareholders by 1929, and the plant was updated and expanded. The success of S.P.C. was inextricably linked with the progress of the town and the wider Goulburn Valley region. In 1936 the company packed twelve million cans and was the largest fruit cannery in the British empire. Through the Second World War the company boomed. The product range was expanded to include additional fruits, jam, baked beans and tinned spaghetti and production reached more than forty-three million cans a year in the 1970s. From financial difficulties caused by the 1980s recession, SPC returned once more to profitability, merging with Ardmona and buying rival company Henry Jones IXL. S.P.C. was acquired by Coca Cola Amatil in 2005 and in 2019 sold to a private equity group known as Shepparton Partners Collective.

 

The rather worn and beaten looking enamelled bread bin and colander in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green, which have been aged on purpose, are artisan pieces I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The various bowls, cannisters and dishes, the kettle and the Brown Betty teapot I have acquired from various online miniatures stockists throughout the United Kingdom, America and Australia. A Brown Betty is a type of teapot, round and with a manganese brown glaze known as Rockingham glaze. In the Victorian era, when tea was at its peak of popularity, tea brewed in the Brown Betty was considered excellent. This was attributed to the design of the pot which allowed the tea leaves more freedom to swirl around as the water was poured into the pot, releasing more flavour with less bitterness.

 

The black Victorian era stove and the ladderback chair on the left of the table and the small table directly behind it are all miniature pieces I have had since I was a child. The ladderback chair on the right came from a deceased estate of a miniatures collector in Sydney. The Welsh dresser came from Babette’s Miniatures, who have been making miniature dolls’ furnishings since the late Eighteenth Century. The dresser has plate grooves in it to hold plates in place, just like a real dresser would.

 

The grey marbleised fireplace behind the stove and the trough sink in the corner of the kitchen come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

The green wallpaper is an authentic replica of real Art Nouveau wallpaper from the first decade of the Twentieth Century which I have printed onto paper. The floorboards are a print of a photo taken of some floorboards that I scaled to 1:12 size to try and maintain a realistic look.

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 not in Lettice’s flat. Instead, we have followed Lettice south-west, through the neighbouring borough of Belgravia to the smart London suburb of Pimlico and its rows of cream and white painted Regency terraces. There, in a smart red brick Edwardian set of three storey flats on Rochester Row, is the residence of Lettice’s client, recently arrived American film actress Wanetta Ward.

 

Now that the flat is completely redecorated under Lettice’s deft hands, Miss Ward has vacated her suite at the Metropole Hotel* and has been living at her Pimlico address for a few weeks now. As a thank you to Lettice, the American has invited her to afternoon tea. And so, we find ourselves in the beautifully appointed, spacious drawing room.

 

“Now, darling girl!” Miss Ward says as she sweeps into the drawing room through the green baize door that leads from the service area of the flat. “You must try my own brew of coffee!” She enthusiastically hoists a beautiful china coffee pot decorated with cherry blossoms in the air. “I promise you that you’ll never go back to that sludge you British call coffee after you’ve had this.”

 

Lettice smells the rich aroma from the pot’s spout as Miss Ward places it with an appropriately theatrical swoop, enhanced by the brightly coloured Spanish shawl draped over her bare shoulders, onto the silver tray on the cherrywood table between the Queen Anne style settee and the matching pair of Chinese armchairs. “It smells divine, Miss Ward.”

 

“Darling!” Miss Ward enthuses. “Divine isn’t the word for this!”

 

“I look forward to tasting it, then.” Lettice replies with a bemused smile. “And afternoon tea, Miss Ward?”

 

“I know! I know!” the American brandishes her hands in the air. “I admit I said it was a quaint observance, but it’s one that I’ve come to enjoy since living here in England. We might not have petit fours like they do at the Metropole, but trust me, Harriet has found the most wonderful little local bakery that makes an amazing selection of cookies. Try one!” She indicates to the plate piled generously with an assortment of brightly coloured and delicious looking biscuits.

 

“Harriet, Miss Ward?”

 

The American picks up a biscuit as she speaks and then pauses with it to her lips. “My new maid, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

Lettice considers the woman with a rather angular face in black silk moiré afternoon uniform and lace collar, cuffs, cap, apron and cap who answered the door. She didn’t strike her as having such a lovely name. She looked to be more of an Augusta or Bertha.

 

Miss Ward’s American voice interrupts Lettice’s contemplation. “Oh, I must thank you too, for the number of that domestics employment agency you gave me.”

 

“You can thank my mother, Miss Ward.” Lettice selects a small pink macaron and takes a ladylike bite from it before depositing the remainder on her plate. She feels the pastry and filling melt in her mouth. “She and I may not agree about a good many things, but Mater certainly knows the best agency In London for staff.”

 

“Well, Harriet is perfect!” Miss ward exclaims. “She fits in here so well, and she doesn’t throw a fit with all my comings and goings at all hours to and from the studio, taking telephone messages for me with the efficiency of a secretary, and she doesn’t even seem to mind the unannounced arrivals when friends come to pay call.”

 

“I do hope you told her about me coming today, Miss Ward.” Lettice remarks in alarm.

 

“Oh I did, Miss Chetwynd! It’s quite alright!” She stuffs the biscuit into her mouth, rubbing her fingers together to rid them of crumbs which tumble through the air and onto her lap where they disappear amidst the fuchsia coloured georgette of her dress. “Mind you,” she continues, speaking with her mouth full. “I don’t think Harriet likes it when I insist on making my own coffee.” She gulps loudly. “She doesn’t like it when I go onto the kitchen. She says it’s her domain.” She looks across at Lettice perched elegantly on the settee, dressed in a pretty pastel yellow frock that matches the trim of her straw hat. “I imagine your maid is the same.”

 

“I’m sure I haven’t asked Edith, Miss Ward.”

 

“Well, perhaps you should, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

“What a ridiculous notion!” Lettice laughs. “Of course she wouldn’t mind! It’s my flat. I can come and go where and when I please.”

 

“If you’ll pardon me, my dear girl,” Miss Ward picks up the coffee pot and pours the steaming, rich golden brown liquid first into Lettice’s cup and then her own. “But it’s a ridiculous notion that you don’t. If I may be so bold: it may be your flat, but you’re a lady, and even I, the egalitarian American in the room, knows that masters and servants don’t mix. You probably vex the poor little mouse when you swan into her domain, rather than ring the servant’s bell. Not that she would tell you that of course! Your maid is much to meek to speak her mind, whereas Harriet tells me that god invented servants’ bells, so I don’t have to go into her kitchen.” She smiles cheekily. “Mind you, I draw the line at her making coffee for me or my guests.” She indicates to the milk jug and sugar bowl. “Now, there is cream in the jug and sugar in the bowl Miss Chetwynd. Do help yourself.” She picks up the jug and glugs a dollop of cream into her coffee before scooping up two large heaped teaspoons of sugar.

 

After Lettice has added a small amount of cream and a flat teaspoon of sugar to her own coffee, she looks around the drawing room observantly whilst she stirs her cup’s contents. To her delight, and no little amount of surprise, the room remains as she designed it. She was quite sure that Wanetta would rearrange her well thought out designs as soon as she moved in, yet against her predictions the furniture remains where she had them placed, the gold and yellow Murano glass comport still standing in the centre of the mantelpiece, the yellow celadon vase with gold bamboo in place on the console table. Even the small white vase, the only piece left over from the former occupier’s décor, remains next to the comport on the mantle. The American was ready to throw it into the dustbin at every opportunity, yet it happily nestles between the comport and a large white china vase of vibrant yellow roses and lilies. It is as she notices the celadon vase that she sees the painting of Wanetta, which only arrived at the flat when its sitter did.

 

“So that’s the famous yellow portrait, Miss Ward,” Lettice remarks, admiring the likeness of the dark haired American, draped in a golden yellow oriental shawl, sitting languidly in a chair.

 

“Oh yes!” gasps Miss Ward as she turns around in her armchair to look at the painting hanging to the right of the fireplace, above a black console table. “You haven’t seen it, have you? Do you like it?”

 

“Yes I do,” acknowledges Lettice. “It’s a remarkable likeness, and the artist has captured the light in your eyes so well.”

 

“Thank you, darling girl! I think it’s beautiful.”

 

“So is your coffee!” Lettice remarks. “It’s quite delicious, and not at all what Bramley makes for me at Glynes**.”

 

“I told you, you British drink sludge.” She takes an appreciative, if overly large, gulp of her own coffee. “Now this, is real coffee.”

 

“So, have you christened your cocktail cabinet, yet?”

 

“Yes I have. I threw a cocktail party for the actors, actresses, director and crew when we wrapped up ‘After the Ball is Over’. It was quite the occasion!”

 

“Oh I could well imagine, Miss Ward.”

 

“Of course,” the American quickly adds. “I’m sure it wasn’t anywhere near as extravagant as your cocktail party that you threw for Mr. and Mrs. Channon.”

 

“You heard about that then, Miss Ward?”

 

“Heard about it? My darling girl,” Her eyes widen and sparkle with excitement. “I immersed myself in the article published by the Tattler, drinking in every little detail of your fabulous soiree. You looked stunning, darling!”

 

Lettice blushes and shuffles awkwardly in her seat on the settee at the brazen compliment. “Thank you, Miss Ward.”

 

“So did Mrs. Channon, of course! And wasn’t Lady Diana Cooper’s*** robe de style**** to die for?”

 

“Err, yes… quite, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies awkwardly. Anxious to change the subject and move away from her own private life, and thereby avoid the American’s potential attempts to try and gather some gossip to share with her fellow actors and actresses at Islington Studios*****, Lettice asks. “And what’s the next moving picture you will be making, Miss Ward? Another villainess role in a historical romance?”

 

“Oh, the studio is shutting for Christmas, so I’m sailing on the Aquitania****** on Monday, back to the States to visit my parents. I haven’t seen them in an age, and, well, they aren’t getting any younger. Besides, Islington Studios are paying for the journey and are organising for me to promote ‘After the Ball is Over’ at a few functions whilst I’m back home.”

 

“That will be lovely for you, Miss Ward.”

 

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll be back in the new year, when we start filming ‘Skating and Sinning’.”

 

“’Skating and Sinning’, Miss Ward?”

 

“Yes!” the American gushes as she picks up the coffee pot which she proffers to Lettice, who declines, and then proceeds to fill her own cup. “It’s the first picture planned for 1922. Another historical drama, set in London in the Seventeenth Century, when the Thames froze over.”

 

“Yes, 1607 I believe.”

 

“You’re a font of knowledge, Miss Chetwynd!” Miss Ward exclaims, clapping her ring decorated hands in delight. “You never cease to amaze me! A first-class interior designer and a historian!”

 

“Knowing trivial historical facts is just part and parcel of an education in a family as old as mine, Miss Ward.” Lettice deflects, taking another sip of her coffee. “And the sinning?”

 

“The sinning, Miss Chetwynd?” the American woman queries.

 

“Well, I assume the frozen Thames explains the skating part of the film’s title, Miss Ward.”

 

“Oh, the sinning!” Miss Ward settles back in her armchair with a knowing smile, placing her coffee cup on the black japanned table between the two Chinese chairs. “Well, that’s me, darling!” She raises both her arms dramatically, the Spanish shawl gathering about her shoulders as she does. “I will be playing a merry young, recently widowed, Duchess, with her eyes on our heroine’s young betrothed!”

 

“And do you succeed, Miss Ward?”

 

“Ah-ah! That,” She wags her finger playfully at Lettice. “Would be telling, darling girl. I can’t go giving away the ending, or you won’t come see the film.”

 

Lettice smiles at the actress. “Well, I’m glad that London has entranced you enough to return from the delights of America.”

 

“Well of course it has! And anyway, I have to come back to enjoy and show off my beautiful new home!”

 

Lettice blushes at the compliment.

 

“I’ll have you know Miss Chetwynd, that at my cocktail party, I had so many compliments about this beautiful room, the furnishings and the décor. You’ll be hearing from directors and future starlets in the new year, I’ll guarantee!”

 

“I shall have to see whether I can accommodate them, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies. “As you know, I will be decorating some of the principal rooms of Mr. and Mrs. Channon’s country house in the new year, and I have a few other potential commissions currently under negotiation.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to squeeze them in, darling! When the moving pictures come knocking, you just won’t be able to say no.”

 

“Well…” Lettice begins, imagining her mother’s face drained of colour, and her father’s flushed with anger, if she takes on another commission from a moving picture actress.

 

“Oh, and thinking of my flat. The other reason why I asked you here.” Miss Ward interrupts, standing up and walking over to the console table beneath her portrait, where some papers sit beneath the base of one of the Murano glass bottles. She fumbles through them and withdraws a small slip of paper. Walking over to Lettice she hands it to her. “A cheque to settle my bill before I set sail for home, darling girl.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies, opening her lemon yellow handbag sitting between her and her black and yellow straw hat on the settee and depositing the cheque safely inside. “I appreciate your prompt payment.”

 

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Chetwynd.” the American replies. “And thank you again for all that you have done.” Her glittering eyes flit about the room. “I just love being here! It’s so perfect! It’s so, so me! A mixture of the old, and the new, the oriental and the European, all of which I love.”

 

“I’m so pleased you approve, Miss Ward. It is your home, after all.”

 

“I even have to concede that you were right about having touches of white in here. It adds a touch of class. And that wonderful wallpaper you suggested,” She indicates to the walls. “Well, it is the pièce de résistance of this room’s décor!” Stepping over to the fireplace, she picks up the small white vase. “This puzzles me though.” Her face crumples. “Why were you so anxious that I keep this vase?”

 

“Well, “ Lettice explains. “Call me sentimental, but I felt that it is part of your home’s story and coming from an old family home surrounded by history, I thought it would be a shame to see it just tossed away. I hope you don’t disagree.”

 

Miss Ward considers the small Parian vase in her manicured hands for a moment before replacing it. “Not at all, you sentimental girl you!”

 

The pair smile at one another, happily.

 

*Now known as the Corinthia Hotel, the Metropole Hotel is located at the corner of Northumberland Avenue and Whitehall Place in central London on a triangular site between the Thames Embankment and Trafalgar Square. Built in 1883 it functioned as an hotel between 1885 until World War I when, located so close to the Palace of Westminster and Whitehall, it was requisitioned by the government. It reopened after the war with a luxurious new interior and continued to operate until 1936 when the government requisitioned it again whilst they redeveloped buildings at Whitehall Gardens. They kept using it in the lead up to the Second World War. After the war it continued to be used by government departments until 2004. In 2007 it reopened as the luxurious Corinthia Hotel.

 

**Glynes is the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie.

 

***Born Lady Diana Manners, Diana Olivia Winifred Maud Cooper, Viscountess Norwich was an English aristocrat who was a famously glamorous social figure in London and Paris. As a young woman, she moved in a celebrated group of intellectuals known as the Coterie, most of whom were killed in the First World War. She married Duff Cooper in 1919. In her prime, she had the widespread reputation as the most beautiful young woman in England, and appeared in countless profiles, photographs and articles in newspapers and magazines. She was a film actress in the early 1920s and both she and her husband were very good friends with Edward VIII and were guests of his on a 1936 yacht cruise of the Adriatic which famously caused his affair with Wallis Simpson to become public knowledge.

 

****The ‘robe de style’ was introduced by French couturier Jeanne Lanvin around 1915. It consisted of a basque bodice with a broad neckline and an oval bouffant skirt supported by built in wire hoops. Reminiscent of the Spanish infanta-style dresses of the Seventeenth Century and the panniered robe à la française of the Eighteenth Century they were made of fabric in a solid colour, particularly a deep shade of robin’s egg blue which became known as Lanvin blue, and were ornamented with concentrated bursts of embroidery, ribbons or ornamental silk flowers.

 

*****Islington Studios, often known as Gainsborough Studios, were a British film studio located on the south bank of the Regent's Canal, in Poole Street, Hoxton in Shoreditch, London which began operation in 1919. By 1920 they had a two stage studio. It is here that Alfred Hitchcock made his entrée into films.

 

******The RMS Aquitania was a British ocean liner of the Cunard Line in service from 1914 to 1950. She was designed by Leonard Peskett and built by John Brown and Company in Clydebank, Scotland. She was launched on the 21st of April 1913 and sailed on her maiden voyage from Liverpool to New York on the 30th of May 1914. Like her sister ships the ill fated Lusitania and the renown Mauritania, she was beautifully appointed and was a luxurious way for first and second-class passengers to travel across the Atlantic between Britain and America.

 

This upper-class 1920s Art Deco drawing room scene may be different to how it may appear, for the whole scene is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces I have had since I was a teenager and others that I have collected on my travels around the world.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The cherry blossom patterned tea set, which if you look closely at the blossoms, you will see they have gilt centres, I acquired from an online stockist on E-Bay. It stands on a silver tray that is part of tea set that comes from Smallskale Miniatures in England. To see the whole set, please click on this link: www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/51111056404/in/photost.... The wonderful selection of biscuits on offer were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

 

The wooden Chinese dragon chairs and their matching low table ,that serves as Wanetta’s tea table, I found in a little shop in Singapore whilst I was holiday there. They are beautifully carved from cherrywood.

 

The Queen Anne settee made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, JBM with great attention to detail.

 

The black japanned cocktail cabinet with its gilded handles was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

All the glass comport on the mantlepiece has been blown and decorated and tinted by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The white and gold Georgian Revival clock next to it is a 1:12 artisan miniature made by Hall’s Miniature Clocks, supplied through Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniatures in England. The ginger jar to the right of the clock is hand painted. It is an item that I bought from a high street doll house stockist when I was a teenager.

 

The yellow celadon vase with gold bamboo painted on it, I bought as part of a job lot of small oriental vases from an auction many years ago. The soapstone lidded jar in the foreground came from the same auction house, but from a different job lot of oriental miniature pieces.

 

Lettice’s black straw hat with yellow trimming and a yellow rose, which sits on the settee is made by Mrs. Denton of Muffin Lodge. It is an artisan miniature made just like a real hat! 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. Lettice’s lemon yellow purse is also an artisan piece and is made of kid leather which is so soft. It is trimmed with very fine braid and the purse has a clasp made from a piece of earring. It come from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Lettice’s furled Art Deco umbrella is also a 1:12 artisan piece made of silk, acquired through an online stockist on E-Bay.

 

The vases of flowers on the mantle piece and side table are beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.

 

The stylised Art Deco fire screen is made using thinly laser cut wood, made by Pat’s Miniatures in England.

 

The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919. It is two centimetres wide and two centimetres high. The receiver can be removed from the cradle, and the curling chord does stretch out.

 

Wanetta’s paintings, including the yellow portrait, were made in America by Amber’s Miniatures.

 

The miniature Oriental rug on the floor was made by hand by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney

 

The Georgian style fireplace I have had since I was a teenager and is made from moulded plaster.

 

The striking wallpaper is an art deco design that was very popular during the 1920s.

September 18, 2019 – the offer www.flickr.com/photos/51192881@N00/48952476853/in/datetaken/

 

October 1, 2019 the payment $4,000 “friends and family” www.flickr.com/photos/51192881@N00/48949342351/in/photost...

 

Oct 19th - Oct 20th (almost 3 weeks later) buyer blocked with no tracking. He makes a post on wclub with a screenshot (the tiny screenshot that appears int the texts above) showing that he had paid $4,000- that the seller had blocked him on facebbook, Instagram and Flickr – and to date, had not actually mailed his dolls- she labels him "liar and scammer and bully" and sends above text.

 

She claims that only after she had shipped the buyer opened a paypal dispute- which she won

flickr.com/photos/51192881@N00/48987661016/in/datetaken/

 

But... the tracking showed that she paid for her label on Oct 20th (sunday) and dropped the package at USPS Oct 22. That was after the paypal dispute was long over.

 

2nd story- after she shipped the dolls and after buyer opened a paypal dispute, she was able to "intercept" the package and swap out the grails for something he "deserved"

 

Then it was pointed out that there is no "package intercept" for USPS international mail ....

 

3rd story- her neighbor the postal master was able to get the package for her so she could swap out the dolls.

evidently violating: www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/text/18/1708

 

Now she just admits she never sent the dolls and laughs at him (See her flickr page- there is only one rant still up)

  

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 have left the hustle and bustle of London, travelling southwest to a stretch of windswept coastline just a short drive the pretty Cornish town of Penzance. Here, friends of Lettice, newlyweds Margot and Dickie Channon, have been gifted a Recency country “cottage residence” called ‘Chi an Treth’ (Cornish for ‘beach house’) as a wedding gift by the groom’s father, the Marquess of Taunton. Margot, encouraged by her father Lord de Virre who will foot the bill, has commissioned Lettice to redecorate a few of the principal rooms of ‘Chi an Treth’. In the lead up to the wedding, Lord de Virre has spent a great deal of money making the Regency house habitable after many years of sitting empty and bringing it up to the Twentieth Century standards his daughter expects, paying for electrification, replumbing, and a connection to the Penzance telephone exchange. Now, with their honeymoon over, Dickie and Margot have finally taken possession of their country house gift and have invited Lettice to come and spend a Friday to Monday with them so that she might view the rooms Margot wants redecorating for herself and perhaps start formulating some ideas as to how modernise their old fashioned décor. As Lettice is unable to drive and therefore does not own a car, Margot and Dickie have extended the weekend invitation to one of their other Embassy Club coterie, Lettice’s old childhood chum, Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy who has tried to gain some independence from his family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street. Gerald owns a Morris*, so he can motor both Lettice and himself down from London on Friday and back again on Monday.

 

After the retirement of the housekeeper, Mrs. Trevethan, from the main house to the gatekeeper’s cottage, the quartet of Bright Young Things** find themselves alone in the sprawling double storey Regency residence of white stucco with ample time on their hands owing to a lack of distractions beyond what parlour games from the Nineteenth Century they found mouldering in the games room cupboard. Encouraged by the consumption of several bottles of French champagne before, during and after dinner, Lettice, Margot, Dickie and Gerald have embarked upon a game of sardines*** after Lettice suggested them playing it earlier in the day. An old house, new to them all, full of wonderful nooks and crannies is too much of a temptation not to play the game. So far Gerald has been found hiding behind an old oriental screen in one of the disused bedrooms and Margot inside the capacious, if slightly musty, interior of an empty wardrobe. Lettice was the last of them to find Margot, so it is her turn to hide and await the other three sardines to seek her out.

 

Abandoning the ideas of the disused bedrooms upstairs, Lettice has returned to the ground floor of ‘Chi an Treth’ in search of a much better hiding place. Seeking out the service entrance, she quietly pushes open the green baize door studded with dull brass tacks. Like all the other doors and windows of ‘Chi an Treth’, it groans on its hinges, but gives way easily, leading Lettice into the servants’ quarters of the house with its white painted walls and bare lightbulb utilitarian décor. She is about to go into the kitchen to seek out the pantry or a dry store cupboard when her eye catches a narrow wooden door standing partially ajar at the end of a rather short corridor with no other doors off it and only a small bench for furniture.

 

“Perfect!” she breathes with excitement, scuttling along the old, worn flagstone floor, her louis heels clicking loudly. “Shhhh!” she hisses at them in her slightly inebriated state. “You’re sure to give me away if I don’t hurry!”

 

Unusually, the door opens outwards, and unlike the green baize door, whilst it does creak, its groaning protests are far quieter than its counterparts. Slipping inside, Lettice finds the light pull cord and with eyes closed, yanks on it, hoping that this rather out-of-the-way store cupboard has been electrified. Her wishes are granted as with a click and the almost imperceptible buzz of electricity, the room is suddenly flooded in a soft golden light from a naked bulb above. A small flurry of dust motes disturbed into the air are illuminated in the glow.

 

“Oh bully for Lord de Virre!” Lettice exclaims, clasping her elegant hands in delight. “Thank goodness he insisted the service area of the house was electrified as well as the living areas.”

 

Happy with her choice of hiding place, Lettice settles to await for the others to find her out and sardine with her.

 

Figuring it will take a little while for her friends to find her and finding sitting in one spot doing nothing rather boring, Lettice decides to explore her cupboard hiding place more thoroughly. She works out quickly that it must be a storage room for things for the nearby dining room as there are stacks of neatly folded table linens on the lower shelves. There are also interesting odd pieces of various dinner sets including tureens without lids, jugs, bowls and stacks of mismatched plates.

 

“Hhhmmm. No longer usable, but evidently too good to throw away.” she remarks as she picks up a blue and white sugar bowl without a lid bearing a pretty floral pattern. She turns it over in her hands thoughtfully. “This must be Regency era. I wonder if the old captain himself used this.”

 

Putting it back, she continues to explore, finding incomplete canteens of cutlery, lacquered stands for vases and bowls and boxes of any amount of different cleaning agents from different eras of the house’s history. Lettice quietly wonders whether there are cupboards like this at Glynes**** and if so, what she might find in them.

 

“Perhaps my own family’s long lost portrait,” she remarks aloud, even though there is no one to hear her. Peering curiously into a Huntley and Palmer’s***** biscuit box full of age discoloured napkins she adds, “Not that we have one that I know of.”

 

Stepping back, she suddenly discovers that the pale blue satin front of her bodice has come away with dust from the Huntly and Palmer’s box.

 

“Oh no!” she exclaims, batting at the sooty looking smears with her hands. “Oh, Gerald will kill me if I ruin one of his dresses!”

 

Unwilling to pull out any of the neatly folded table linens on the lower shelves out and sully them for fear of Mrs. Trevethan’s wrath if she is in fact the regular user of them, Lettice begins to fossick for alternatives to dust down her gown and manage, if not eradicate, any marks on her bodice. Forgetting the box of old linen napkins in her panic, she searches the shelves high and low for a cloth of some kind.

 

It is then that she spots a muslin cloth which looks quite clean dangling from a stack on an upper shelf. Lettice stretches up, but isn’t quite tall enough to reach it, even when she stands on her toes. She jumps up but misses it. She jumps again and feels the fabric teasingly caress her fingertips like a light breeze. She jumps a third time, and this time catches the fabric between her right index and middle fingers. Locking them tightly, she lands on the ground again, but doesn’t realise that by doing so she is also bringing with her the rest of the pile as well as the cloth, and down it comes, colliding crashing, making such a din that Lettice screams in fright, adding to the discordant cacophony as wood splinters, newspaper crumples and china shatters over the unforgiving flagstone floor.

 

The little broom cupboard is plunged into a thick silence in the immediate wake of the accident. Standing with her back against a shelf, Lettice is momentarily shocked into stillness before her body starts to react to the near miss of the shower of objects that now lie smashed and broken across the ground, as opening her tightly clenched eyes she starts to tremble and then sob.

 

“Lettice! Lettice!” Dickie cries are heard getting closer and closer to her hiding place along with the thunder of his approaching footsteps as he bursts into the cupboard. His eyes widen at the carnage of splintered porcelain, pottery and glass across the floor along with shattered pieces of wood. As he takes it in, he looks over at his friend, dusty and sobbing, but apparently unharmed. “Lettice dear girl! Are you alright?”

 

It is like the floodgates open with his words and Lettice stumbles across the broken items into Dickie’s arms and cries, uttering great juddering sobs as she clings to him.

 

“There, there, old girl,” Dickie soothes reassuringly, running his hands over Lettice’s blonde hair as she buries herself into his chest. “It’s alright. You’re alright. No harm done. You’ve just had a bad fright is all.”

 

“Lettice!” Gerald’s voice calls anxiously as his running steps grow louder before finding Dickie and Lettice on the threshold of the store cupboard. “Lettice are you alright? Answer me.”

 

“Shh. Shh.” Dickie mutters. “It’s alright old girl.”

 

“Oh my god, Lettice!” Margot gasps, appearing at the door. “Dickie! Dickie, is she injured? Oh! I’ll never forgive myself if she’s been hurt.”

 

“It’s alright darling, it’s fine Gerald.” Dickie assures them. “Lettice just had a rather nasty fright and a near miss is all.” He sways gently, rocking Lettice slowly as she continues to cry, only with less force now as she starts to calm down. Looking over his shoulder at his wife’s face, looking even more pale than usual against her dark hair he says, “Go fetch the brandy from the drawing room would you, my love?”

 

“Of course! Of course!” Margot replies breathlessly as she turns to leave.

 

“And for god’s sake, don’t run Margot. Just walk.” he chides as she goes. “We don’t want you turning an ankle on the flags to top it all off.”

 

“What happened?” Gerald asks, looking at the mess lying across the ground and the swirl of dust motes dancing in the golden light cast by the naked lightbulb above as it gently circles above.

 

“I’d say a few boxes went for a tumble, dear boy.” Dickie observes. “But there’s been no harm done to Lettice here. Now has there?” He directs his last comment to the young lady in his arms.

 

“Which is more than I can say for the captain’s old dinner service.” Gerald remarks, bending down and picking up a chunk of white pottery by its brightly painted handle. “What a mess you’ve made Lettuce Leaf.”

 

Sniffing, Lettice releases herself from Dickie’s arms and wipes her eyes with the back of her now rather grubby hand, smearing kohl across her cheek. “Don’t… don’t call me that, Gerald,” she says in a breaking voice. “You know I don’t like it.”

 

Gerald smiles gratefully firstly at her and then at Dickie. “No,” he smirks. “No harm done to Lettice.”

 

“Here’s the brandy,” Margot calls, appearing at the door clutching the crystal decanter from the drawing room and a faceted glass tumbler.

 

“Capital, my love.” Dickie says gratefully.

 

Gerald takes them from Margot and pours several large slugs of brandy into the tumbler and hands it to Lettice, who takes it in both of her still slightly trembling hands and raises the glass to her quivering lips.

 

“I say old girl,” Dickie pipes up cheerfully in an effort to break the tension. “I always took you for being an expert at playing sardines!”

 

“Yes darling,” Gerald adds. “You know that you’re supposed to let us find you, not alert us of your hiding place by creating a ruckus.”

 

“Or a mess,” Lettice snuffles. Looking down at the broken pieces she notices what is left of an old pendulum wall clock amongst the debris, it’s glass face covering shattered and its hands telling the incorrect time of ten past ten, no doubt never to move again. “Oh, I am sorry Dickie.”

 

“Come, come!” Dickie replies, placing a caring arm around his friend’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter about that. They’re just things. So long as you’re not hurt.” He smiles at her. “That’s what’s important.”

 

“Oh but Mrs. Trevethan!” Lettice protests. “She already has so much to do, looking after us and keeping the house tidy without this!” She extends a hand to the debris at her feet.

 

“Oh, pooh Mrs. Trevethan!” Margot replies, walking into the storeroom. “They don’t call this a broom cupboard for nothing!” She goes to a corner of the room which has remained undisturbed and pulls out a handmade birchwood broom and a metal bucket. “I’ll clean this up.” She looks over at Gerald, lolling languidly against the door frame holding the decanter of brandy. “And Gerald will help me, won’t you Gerald?”

 

“What? Me?” Gerald’s eyes grow wide as he looks back at Margot in shock as she withdraws a dustpan and brush. “But… but I’m a guest.”

 

“And such a helpful guest too,” Margot answers back in honeyed tones. “He designs frocks and sweeps floors.” She thrusts the dustpan and brush out to him forcefully. “What more could a hostess ask for?”

 

“But.. but what about Dickie?” he splutters.

 

“Dickie is playing nursemaid to Lettice,” she replies matter-of-factly. “So he’s got his hands full.”

 

“Evidently so have I.” Gerald replies glumly as he begrudgingly accepts the dustpan and brush from Margot.

 

Lettice giggles, but quickly smothers it with her hand as she receives a glare from her childhood friend.

 

“That’s better!” Dickie smiles. “Now, you just come out here, and we’ll leave Margot and Gerald to this.” He ushers Lettice out of the cupboard. “There’s a little seat out here in the hallway.”

 

The pair sit down on the small wooden bench in the hallway and watch in silence as Gerald and Margot start sorting things.

 

“Well, I don’t think this will ever go again.” Gerald chuckles as he picks up the wall clock and leans it against a corner of the shelves atop a stack of flour bags, its springs and cogs protesting metallically with its movement.

 

“If it even was going before, Gerald.” Margot replies. “I think our Mrs. Trevethan is a little bit of a hoarder, with so much space to store things and the run of the house her own until now.” She considers and assesses the mess on the floor with her left hand resting on her hip as she clutches the broom, looking a peculiar sight dressed in an elegant deep blue satin evening frock and high heels whilst holding it. “Now, any broken bits of wood can go into here.” She puts down a metal bucket. “And we’ll use it for firewood. And any broken glass and porcelain can go here.” She places a second bucket next to the first. “And I’ll get Mrs. Trevethan to deal with it in the morning.”

 

“I say,” Gerald remarks as he leans over a cracked square of wood and some discoloured tissue paper. “What’s this?”

 

“What’s what?” Margot asks as she starts sweeping broken pieces of pottery and shards of glass into a pile.

 

“This.” Gerald replies as he starts to move the splintered piece of wood.

 

“Gerald now isn’t a time for playing,” Margot says exasperatedly as she leans on the broom handle. “We’ll never get this cleaned up by breakfast time if you insist on fiddling with everything. Let’s just tidy this up. It won’t take long!”

 

“No!” protests Gerald, transfixed by what he has found. “I’m serious.”

 

“So am I, Gerald.” grumbles Margot.

 

Not hearing her querulous remark, he ignores her, and he moves closer to the pile of wood. “It looks like an old frame.” He shifts the wood aside. “A gilded frame.”

 

“Houses like this are full of old frames, Gerald,” Dickie calls from his seat on the bench next to Lettice where he cradles her with one arm, and the decanter of brandy in his other hand. “You know that. We English never like to throw away anything that might be of service at a later date.”

 

“No, this is different. It’s a beautiful frame. It must have been boxed up as it’s in splendid condition.”

 

Outside the store cupboard, Lettice and Dickie hear Margot’s broom cease its gentle swishing as the pair in the storeroom cease speaking.

 

“Margot? Gerald?” Dickie calls. “Are you alright?”

 

When no answer is forthcoming, both he and Lettice pick themselves up off the bench and walk to the door of the storeroom.

 

“I say you two,” Dickie continues. “What is going on here?” He looks at his wife and friend who are standing in the middle of the space, staring at the gilded frame as it gleams in the light, nestled comfortably amid a bed of crumpled tissue paper. His eyes widen.

 

“What is it, Gerald?” Lettice asks.

 

Gerald turns around and stares at Lettice, a look of amazement on his face. “See for yourself, darling.” he breathes.

 

Lettice looks at the painting inside the frame. Looking out from behind a thin layer of protective glass, a young lady with dark curls shaped into a stylish fashion by a host of red ribbons gazes over the bare shoulder. Two ropes of pearls hang about her elongated neck. However, it is her face, beautiful and radiant, with a knowing smile and soulful brown eyes that follow you about that catches her own eyes. She gasps.

 

“Lettice, dear girl,” breathes Dickie softly. “I think you may have inadvertently discovered the long lost Winterhatler****** of ‘Chi an Treth’.”

 

*Morris Motors Limited was a privately owned British motor vehicle manufacturing company established in 1919. With a reputation for producing high-quality cars and a policy of cutting prices, Morris's business continued to grow and increase its share of the British market. By 1926 its production represented forty-two per cent of British car manufacturing. Amongst their more popular range was the Morris Cowley which included a four-seat tourer which was first released in 1920.

 

**The Bright Young Things, or Bright Young People, was a nickname given by the tabloid press to a group of Bohemian young aristocrats and socialites in 1920s London.

 

***Sardines is an active game that is played like hide and go seek — only in reverse! One person hides, and everyone else searches for the hidden person. Whenever a person finds the hidden person, they quietly join them in their hiding spot. There is no winner of the game. The last person to join the sardines will be the hider in the next round. Sardines was a very popular game in the 1920s and 1930s played by houseguests in rambling old country houses where there were unusual, unknown and creative places to hide.

 

****Glynes is the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie.

 

*****Huntley and Palmers is a British firm of biscuit makers originally based in Reading, Berkshire. The company created one of the world’s first global brands and ran what was once the world’s largest biscuit factory. Over the years, the company was also known as J. Huntley and Son and Huntley and Palmer. Huntley and Palmer were renown for their ‘superior reading biscuits’ which they promoted in different varieties for different occasions, including at breakfast time.

 

******Franz Xaver Winterhalter (1805 – 1873) was a German painter and lithographer, known for his flattering portraits of royalty and upper-class society in the mid-19th century. His name has become associated with fashionable court portraiture. Among his best known works are Empress Eugénie Surrounded by her Ladies in Waiting (1855) and the portraits he made of Empress Elisabeth of Austria (1865).

 

This cluttered storage space full of interesting remnants of times past may not be all that it first appears, for this scene is made up of items from my miniatures collection, including pieces that I have had since I was a child.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The lost Winterhalter painting of ‘Chi an Treth’ in its gilded frame is a 1:12 artisan piece made by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

The pendulum wall clock behind the frame I have had since I was a young child. It was either a Christmas or a birthday gift, but I cannot remember which.

 

The tin buckets, mop and birchwood broom are all artisan made miniatures that I have acquired in more recent years.

 

The feather duster on the top shelf I made myself using fledgling feathers (very spring) which I picked up off the lawn one day thinking they would come in handy in my miniatures collection sometime. I bound them with thread to the handle which is made from a fancy ended toothpick!

 

The table linens on the bottom right-hand shelves are all 1:12 size miniatures with beautiful tint stitching to finish each piece off. They were acquired from Michelle’s Miniatures in Sydney.

 

The porcelain jugs, bowls, tureens, plates and cups all come from different eBay online sellers.

 

The Huntly and Palmers’ box to the top right of the photograph comes from Jonesy’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Huntley and Palmers is a British firm of biscuit makers originally based in Reading, Berkshire. The company created one of the world’s first global brands and ran what was once the world’s largest biscuit factory. Over the years, the company was also known as J. Huntley and Son and Huntley and Palmer. Huntley and Palmer were renown for their ‘superior reading biscuits’ which they promoted in different varieties for different occasions, including at breakfast time.

 

In front bottom right hand corner of the photo is a can of Vim with stylised Art Deco packaging. It was made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering, as was the box of Sunlight soap in the small tin bucked to the right of the photograph. Vim was a common cleaning agent, used in any Edwardian household. Vim scouring powder was created by William Hesketh Lever (1st Viscount Leverhulme) and introduced to the market in 1904. It was produced at Port Sunlight in Wirrel, Merseyside, a model village built by Lever Brothers for the workers of their factories which produced the popular soap brands Lux, Lifebuoy and Sunlight. Kleeneze is a homeware company started in Hanham, Bristol. The company's founder, Harry Crook, had emigrated to the United States with his family several years earlier, and whilst there joined Fuller Brush as a sales representative. He returned to Bristol several years later, and started a business making brushes and floor polish which were sold door-to-door by salesmen. Technically Kleeneze didn’t start until 1923, which is two years after this story is set. I couldn’t resist including it, as I doubt I will ever be able to photograph it as a main part of any other tableaux. Thus, I hope you will forgive me for this indulgence.

 

On the shelf to the left of the photograph is some Zebo grate polish made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Zebo (or originally Zebra) Grate Polish was a substance launched in 1890 by Reckitts to polish the grate to a gleam using a mixture that consisted of pure black graphite finely ground, carbon black, a binding agent and a solvent to keep it fluid for application with a cloth or more commonly newspaper.

 

The tin buckets, wooden apple box, basket, mop, brush, pan and birchwood broom are all artisan made miniatures that I have acquired in more recent years.

Waitress offering beverages on the casino floor.

- Laughlin, Nevada

I shot this from the 10 floor of the Hyatt hotel...this is one of the largest and most morden drawbridges in the world. My main focus here was the Tower in the middle that controls all functions.

 

The new 17th Street Causeway Bridge in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, was constructed along the alignment of the previous drawbridge. The cost of the transformation was $62 million. The new bridge was completed in 2001 and offers bike lanes, an emergency lane and pedestrian overlooks. While work was carried out on the new permanent bridge, a temporary Dutch style bridge was put in place to maintain traffic flow.

 

The cost of the permanent bridge was $62 million, and the temporary bridge $6 million. The new bridge increases the vertical clearance from 25ft to 55ft and the channel width from 100ft to 125ft. The 17th Street approach spans are made of twin variable depth - constant slope concrete segmental bridges, built using a combination of balanced cantilever and progressive cantilever construction methods.

 

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.

 

Two of Lettice’s Embassy Club coterie of bright young things are getting married: Dickie Channon, eldest surviving son of the Marquess of Taunton, and Margot de Virre, only daughter of Lord Charles and Lady Lucie de Virre. Lettice is hosting an exclusive buffet supper party in their honour this evening, which is turning out to be one of the events of the 1921 London Season. Over the last few days, Lettice’s flat has been in upheaval as Edith. Lettice’s maid, and Lettice’s charwoman* Mrs. Boothby have been cleaning the flat thoroughly in preparation for the occasion. Earlier today with the help of a few hired men they moved some of the furnishings in Lettice’s drawing room into the spare bedroom to make space for the hired dance band and for the guests to dance and mingle. Edith’s preserve of the kitchen has been overrun by delivery men, florists and caterers. Yet it has finally all fallen into place perfectly just as a red and white striped marquee is erected by Gunter and Company** over the entrance and the pavement outside.

 

Now we find ourselves in Lettice’s dining room, which has become the focal point for half the party guests as her dining table is given over to a magnificent buffet created by Harrods catering, whilst Dickie stands at one corner, thoroughly enjoying playing the part of barman as he makes cocktails for all his friends.

 

Lettice sighs with satisfaction as she looks around the drawing room and dining room of her flat. Both rooms have a golden glow about them created by a mixture of electric light and candlelight and the fug of cigarette smoke. The rooms are populated with London society’s glittering young people, nicknamed “bright young things” by the newspapers. Men in white tie and tails with a smattering of daring souls wearing dinner jackets chatter animatedly and dance with ladies in beautifully coloured evening gowns with loose bodices, sashes and irregular and handkerchief hems. Jewels wink at throats, on fingers, dangling from ears and in carefully coiffed and finger waved hair, illuminated by the brilliant lighting. Bugle beads glitter as gowns gently wash about the figures of their wearers as they move. Everywhere gay chatter about the Season and the upcoming wedding of Margot and Dickie fills the air, the joyous sound mixing with the lively jazz quartet who play syncopated tunes lustily in a corner of Lettice’s drawing room.

 

“Dubonnet and gin?” Dickie asks Lettice as she stands by the buffet and picks up a biscuit lightly smeared with salmon mousse.

 

“Oh you are a brick, Dickie!” Lettice enthuses, popping the dainty morsel into her mouth. Accepting the reddish gold cocktail from him she adds, “But really, this is your party. You should be out there, socialising with Margot, not standing here making cocktails for everyone.”

 

“Why should I bother going out there to socialise,” he waves his hand across the crowded room to the edge of the makeshift dancefloor where his fiancée stands in a beautiful ankle length silver georgette gown studded in silver sequins, surrounded by a small clutch of equally elegant young guests. “When they all have to come to me for drinks.”

 

“Ahhh,” Lettice titters as she sips her cocktail. “So there is method in your madness, Dickie.”

 

“Isn’t there always, Lettice?” he laughs. “Now, you are technically hostess of this bash. Go out there and dazzle everyone.” Then he stops and adds, “Well, not quite everyone.” And he blows a kiss to his fiancée whose eye he has caught from across the crowded room.

 

“Alright Dickie,” Lettice laughs and she saunters off into the crowd, pausing to smile and say hullo and accept the compliments of her many guests.

 

Suddenly she spots a beautiful woman in a pale pink beaded gown with dark finger waved hair framing her peaches and cream complexion standing docilely by the dancefloor watching the stream of passing couples dancing past in each other’s arms. She seems distant and remote, even a little sad, and far removed from the frenetic energy and jolly bonhomie about her. Excusing herself from the couple who are addressing her, Lettice slips over to her.

 

“Hullo Elizabeth***!” Lettice embraces her warmly. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come along tonight considering everything that’s happened.”

 

“I wasn’t sure myself, Lettice.” Elizabeth replies, a warm smile revealing a slightly crooked set of teeth. “But I couldn’t let Dickie and Margot down.” Then she adds quickly as an afterthought, “Or you, darling Lettice.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you’ve come. How are you feeling?”

 

“A little battered and bruised emotionally.” Elizabeth admits with a lilt of sadness. “But one mustn’t complain.”

 

“I still don’t understand why you said no to his marriage proposal. I thought you loved Bertie****.”

 

“I did.” Elizabeth remarks before correcting herself. “I do! But I’m afraid that if I said yes to him, I’d never, never again be able to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to. Besides,” she adds conspiratorially, glancing about her before continuing. “His mother terrifies me.”

 

“She terrifies all of us,” Lettice laughs lighty as she waves her hand gaily about the room. “Now, what you need to pick you up and forget your heartache is one of these.” She points to the glass in her hand.

 

“What is it?” Elizabeth asks, eyeing Lettice’s glass and sniffing its contents with suspicion.

 

“A Dubonnet and gin. Dickie will make you one. Go and ask him.” Lettice grasps Elizabeth by the shoulder and sends her toddling across to Dickie as he stands behind a line of bottles and a beautiful arrangement of roses.

 

“Lettice!” Margot suddenly calls from across the room, beckoning her over enthusiastically. “Lettice, darling!”

 

Squeezing between small clusters of well-dressed guests drinking and eating or leaving the dance floor, Lettice makes her way over to her friend.

 

“Hullo Margot, darling! Are you having a fabulous time?”

 

“Fabulous isn’t enough of a word to describe it, darling!” she replies with eyes shimmering with excitement and joy. “Such a thrilling bash! I can’t thank you enough!”

 

“Yes Lettice,” a deep male voice adds from behind her. “You certainly do know how to throw a party!”

 

“Lord de Virre!” Lettice exclaims, spinning around. “Oh! I didn’t know you’d arrived. Now, who can I introduce you to?”

 

“No-one my dear. My beautiful daughter has been doing an ample job of introducing me to so many people that already this old man cannot remember who is whom.”

 

“Never old!” Lettice scolds, hitting his arm playfully as she curls her own through the crook in his. “Then if I can’t introduce to anyone, perhaps I can entreat you into eating something.”

 

“Now that I won’t refuse, Lettice.”

 

Lettice and Margot guide Lord de Virre across the crowded dining room to the buffet table weighed down with delicious savoury petit fours, vol-au-vents, caviar, dips, cheese and pâte and pasties. Glasses full, partially drained and empty are scattered amidst the silver trays and china plates.

 

“Champagne, Sir?” Dickie calls out.

 

“Good show Dickie!” laughs Lord de Virre over the noise of the party. “Playing barman tonight, are we?”

 

“It’s the best role to play at a party, Sir.” He passes Lord de Virre a flute of sparkling champagne poured from the bottle wedged into a silver ice bucket.

 

Behind him Lettice spies Elizabeth with a Dubonnet and gin in her glove clad hand. Lettice catches her eye and discreetly raises her glass, which Elizabeth returns with a gentle smile.

 

“Now Lettice, darling,” Margot enthuses as she selects a dainty petit four. “Daddy has just reminded me of an idea we had a few weeks ago, which I meant to ask you about, but between all Gerald’s dress fittings and other arrangements for the wedding,” She flaps her hand about, the diamonds in her engagement ring sparkling in the light. “Well, I completely forgot.”

 

Lettice tries not to smile as she feels the gentlest of squeezes from Lord de Virre’s arm and remembers the conversation that she and he had some weeks ago in his study. “What is it?” She glances between Margot and her father, pretending not to know what is coming.

 

“Well, Daddy suggested… I mean… I was wondering…”

 

“Yes, Margot darling?”

 

“Well, you know how the Marquess is giving us that house in Cornwall?”

 

“Yes! Chi an… an…?”

 

“Chi an Treth!” Dickie calls out helpfully.

 

“Yes!” Margot concurs. “Beach House! Well, it hasn’t been lived in for ever such a long time, and it’s a bit old fashioned. Daddy is kindly organising for it to be electrified, re-plumbed and have it connected to the Penzance telephone exchange for us.” Margot pauses. “And… well he and… we… that is to say that I thought…”

 

“Yes?” Lettice coaxes with lowered lids as she takes a gentle sip of her Dubonnet and gin.

 

“Well, we… Dickie and I that is… well we rather hoped that you might consider fixing up a couple of rooms for us. Would you? I would just so dearly love a room or two decorated by you! Dickie even thinks that his father can pull some strings and get you an article in Country Life if you do?”

 

“Oh Margot!” Lettice exclaims, releasing her grip on Lord de Virre and depositing her glass on the table she flings her arms about her friend’s neck. “I’d love to!”

 

Lettice suddenly feels a gentle poking of fingers into the small of her back. Letting go of Margot, she stands back and looks at her, remembering the lines Lord de Virre asked her to come up with and rehearse upon agreeing to Margot’s request.

 

“Of course, I can’t do it straight away, you understand. You know I’m currently mid-way through Miss Ward’s flat in Pimlico.”

 

“Oh that’s alright,” Margot beams. “The modernisation isn’t finished yet, so we won’t even be going down there to inspect the place until after our honeymoon.”

 

Lettice feels Lord de Virre’s prodding in her back again.

 

“And I won’t do it for free, Margot. I have already given you a wedding gift. I’m a businesswoman now.”

 

“Oh, well that’s just the thing,” Margot exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. “Daddy has kindly agreed to pay for it all.”

 

Lettice looks up at Lord de Virre. He looks back at her seriously, but she can see a smile tweaking the edges of his mouth, trying to create a cheeky smile. She tries to keep up the pretence that she didn’t already know that Margot was going to ask her to redecorate for her and Dickie as she says, “Really Lord de Virre? All of it? That’s very generous of you.”

 

“Not a bit of it, Lettice. This is a good, sound business transaction. You may send your quotes to me for consideration,” He ennunciates the last word carefully to stress its importance, more for Margot’s sake than Lettice’s. “Once you have seen the rooms as they are now.”

 

“Thank you Lord de Virre,” Lettice replies. “Well Margot, I suppose that settles it then!”

 

“Oh Dickie!” Margot exclaims, scuttling over to her fiancée. “She said yes!”

 

“Who did, darling?” Dickie asks as he adds crème de menthe to colour his Fallen Angel cocktail a pale green.

 

“What do you mean, who?” Margot hits his arm jokingly as she sways excitedly from side to side. “Lettice of course!” She looks back over to her friend standing alongside her father. “She’s agreed to decorate for us.”

 

“Oh, jolly good show!” Dickie smiles. “Thanks awfully Lettice, darling! Now you’re the brick!”

 

“Always Dickie!” Lettice laughs back.

 

“Listen Dickie!” Margot gasps. “The band is playing ‘Dancing Time’*****! Come away from the bar and dance with me.”

 

“You’d best not refuse her, my boy!” teases Lord de Virre. “It’s madness if you try. I never could!”

 

The happily engaged couple hurry across the room, hand in hand, slipping between clusters of guests before disappearing into the crowd on the dancefloor as the music from the band soars above the burble of the crowd and the clink of glasses.

 

“So, we finally have an official arrangement, Miss Chetwynd?” Lord de Virre says discreetly as he raises his glass towards Lettice.

 

“I think we do, Lord de Virre.” Lettice smiles and clinks her glass with his as they toast their arrangement formally. “Your offer is simply too good to refuse.”

 

*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.

 

**Gunter and Company were London caterers and ball furnishers with shops in Berkley Square, Sloane Street, Lowndes Street and New Bond Street. They began as Gunter’s Tea Shop at 7 and 8 Berley Square 1757 where it remained until 1956 as the business grew and opened different premises. In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries Gunter's became a fashionable light eatery in Mayfair, notable for its ices and sorbets. Gunter's was considered to be the wedding cake makers du jour and in 1889, made the bride cake for the marriage of Queen Victoria’s granddaughter, Princess Louise of Wales. Even after the tea shop finally closed, the catering business carried on until the mid 1970s.

 

***Elizabeth Bowes Lyon as she was known in 1921 went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to"

 

****Prince Albert, Duke of York, known by the diminutive “Bertie” to the family and close friends, was the second son of George V. Not only did Bertie propose to Elizabeth in 1921, but also in March 1922 after she was a bridesmaid at the wedding of Albert’s sister, Princess Mary to Viscount Lascelles. Elizabeth refused him a second time, yet undaunted Bertie pursued the girl who had stolen his heart. Finally, in January 1923 she agreed to marry him in spite of her misgivings about royal life.

 

*****’Dancing Time’ was a popular song in Britain in 1921 with words by George Grossmith Jr. and music by Jerome Kern.

 

This rather splendid buffet of delicious savoury treats might look real to you, but in fact the whole scene is made up on 1:12 scale miniatures from my miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

On Lettice’s black japanned dining table delicious canapés are ready to be consumed by party guests. The plate of sandwiches, the silver tray of biscuits and the bowls of dips, most of the savoury petite fours on the silver tray furthest from the camera and the silver tray of Cornish pasties were made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. The cheese selection on the tray closest to the camera were made by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering, as are the empty champagne glasses all of which are made of hand blown glass. The bowl of caviar was made by Karen Lady Bug Miniatures in England.

 

The tray that the caviar is sitting on and the champagne bucket are made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The bottle of Deutz and Geldermann champagne. It is an artisan miniatures and made of glass and has real foil wrapped around its neck. It was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Several of the other bottles of mixers in the foreground are also made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The bottle of Gordon’s Dry Gin, the bottle of Crème de Menthe, Cinzano, Campari and Martini are also 1:12 artisan miniatures, made of real glass, and came from a specialist stockist in Sydney. Gordon's London Dry Gin was developed by Alexander Gordon, a Londoner of Scots descent. He opened a distillery in the Southwark area in 1769, later moving in 1786 to Clerkenwell. The Special London Dry Gin he developed proved successful, and its recipe remains unchanged to this day. The top markets for Gordon's are (in descending order) the United Kingdom, the United States and Greece. Gordon's has been the United Kingdom’s number one gin since the late Nineteenth century. It is the world's best-selling London dry gin. Crème de menthe (French for "mint cream") is a sweet, mint-flavored alcoholic beverage. Crème de menthe is an ingredient in several cocktails popular in the 1920s, such as the Grasshopper and the Stinger. It is also served as a digestif. Cinzano vermouths date back to 1757 and the Turin herbal shop of two brothers, Giovanni Giacomo and Carlo Stefano Cinzano, who created a new "vermouth rosso" (red vermouth) using "aromatic plants from the Italian Alps in a recipe which is still secret to this day. Campari is an Italian alcoholic liqueur, considered an apéritif. It is obtained from the infusion of herbs and fruit (including chinotto and cascarilla) in alcohol and water. It is a bitters, characterised by its dark red colour.

 

The vase of red roses on the dining table and the vase of yellow lilies on the Art Deco console are beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium. Also on the console table stand some of Lettice’s precious artisan purchases from the Portland Gallery in Soho. The pair of candelabra at either end of the sideboard are sterling silver artisan miniatures from Karen Ladybug Miniatures in England. The silver drinks set, made by artisan Clare Bell at the Clare Bell Brass Works in Maine, in the United States. Each goblet is only one centimetre in height and the decanter at the far end is two- and three-quarter centimetres with the stopper inserted. Lettice’s Art Deco ‘Modern Woman’ figure is actually called ‘Christianne’ and was made and hand painted by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland. ‘Christianne’ is based on several Art Deco statues and is typical of bronze and marble statues created at that time for the luxury market in the buoyant 1920s.

 

Lettice’s dining room is furnished with Town Hall Miniatures furniture, which is renown for their quality. The only exceptions to the room is the Chippendale chinoiserie carver chair and the Art Deco cocktail cabinet (the edge of which just visible on the far right-hand side of the photo) which were made by J.B.M. Miniatures.

 

The paintings on the walls are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States. 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.