View allAll Photos Tagged Redbricks
Dieses schöne alte Bank-Gebäude mit der güldenen Kuppel über dem Uhrturm habe ich schon unzählige Male fotografiert, aber in Kombination mit dem blauen Himmel ist es immer wieder unwiderstehlich...
Quer über die Straße, keine 300m entfernt, steht das Weiße Haus.
The National Saving And Trust Company, presently occupied by Sun Trust Bank is a historic bank building located at the corner of New York Avenue and 15th Street, NW in Downtown Washington, D.C. It was designed by architect James H. Windrim and built in 1888. The Queen Anne Style building is constructed in red brick, and elaborately detailed with copper and terracotta (Wiki)
POSTCARDS FROM SNODLAND
Beer towels drip-drying outside the Snodland Working Men's Club.
As a footnote, for anyone who might be out there this weekend, I was approached a couple of days ago by the University of Sheffield in conjunction with Kodak, wanting to use my photostream as part of a research project into the use of tags as part of the photo-sharing process. Just for fun, therefore, please feel free to add your own tags at any time. The more and the weirder the merrier. Let's muck up their entire project, just for the sake of it..! Or is that childish? Who cares?
It is a long time since this lovely dark redbrick building on Donegall Street in Belfast has been a school—it's currently the Roman Catholic chaplaincy for the new campus of the University of Ulster next door—but the signs are still up.
Remarkably, this is Belfast's last surviving neo-Gothic building. It was built in 1828 to the designs of the Newry architect, Timothy Hevey, and was the first Catholic school to be built in Belfast. The land was donated by the 2nd Marquess of Donegall, and had been the town dump until the school was built.
The go-ahead boomtown that was Victorian Belfast did not treasure the buildings that had come before, so this is, remarkably, one of the oldest surviving buildings in the city, full stop.
To its left is the enormous Gothic mass of St Patrick's Church, completed in 1877.
Thanks to the "Lord Belmont in Northern Ireland" blog for much of the information in this description.
Architect: Christopher Dodd, 1983. Clubhouse extension in the likeness of a Martello Tower. The Hove Deepsea Angling Club has been at this location since it was formed in 1909. Western Esplanade, Hove, City of Brighton & Hove, UK.
(CC BY-NC-ND - credit: Images George Rex)
A stately red-brick city hall building stands prominently at the corner of an intersection, framed by the lush green leaves of an overhanging tree. The architecture conveys a sense of authority and classical design, with large white columns flanking the entrance and the words "CITY HALL" engraved above the doors.
500 Main Street
Murray Kentucky
fineartamerica.com/featured/murray-city-hall-larry-braun....
The redbrick building barely visible, beyond and beneath, the sign, is the Mater Private Hospital, Dublin.
Miracle required - head for Heaven!
The Malbork convent kitchen - in the first interior with a huge hood oyer the hearth, food was once prepared, and then transported by lift to the refectory on the second floor. Now, both this interior and the next room, which was probably a bakery in the old days, have been turned into an old convent kitchen equipped with pots and plates, and all sort of utensils from different historical periods. Dishes served on the tables of medieval Malbork reflected the power and prosperity of the Teutonic Knights' state. People ate there pork, beef, poultry, and game prepared in different styles. Fish was rated highly. A supplement of the main dishes was bread, barley, and rice. Among dairy products, mainly cheeses were consumed. Cream and milk played a minor role. The latter was replaced by an extract from almonds. Beers and meads were the basic drinks. It is known, that 19 brands of wine were brought to Malbork; most of them from the Rhine region, but there were also Hungarian, Greek, and Italian wines. The monks drank no less than 12 kinds of beer.
The Castle of the Teutonic Order in Malbork, the largest Gothic castle complex in the world, is a 13th-century Teutonic castle and fortress located near the town of Malbork on the river Nogat in Poland. It was originally constructed by the Teutonic Knights, a German Catholic religious order of crusaders, in a form of an Ordensburg fortress. The Order named it Marienburg in honour of Mary, mother of Jesus. In 1457, during the Thirteen Years’ War, it was sold by the Bohemian mercenaries to King Casimir IV of Poland in lieu of indemnities and it since served as one of the several Polish royal residences and the seat of Polish offices and institutions, interrupted by several years of Swedish occupation, and fulfilling this function until the First Partition of Poland in 1772. From then on the castle was under German rule for over 170 years until 1945. The castle is a classic example of a medieval fortress and, on its completion in 1406, was the world's largest brick castle. UNESCO designated the "Castle of the Teutonic Order in Malbork" and the Malbork Castle Museum a World Heritage Site in December 1997.
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Kuchnia konwentu malborskiego - w pierwszym wnętrzu z wielkim okapem nakrywającym palenisko przygotowywano kiedyś potrawy, transportowane windą przy południowej ścianie na drugie piętro, do refektarza. Dziś, zarówno w tym, jak i w sąsiednim wnętrzu będącym najprawdopodobniej piekarnią, zaaranżowano dawną kuchnię klasztorną w oparciu o dostępne obiekty muzealne. Wnętrze zaaranżowano w ten sposób, by można było odnieść wrażenie, iż kucharz właśnie był odszedł od paleniska i garnków, by udać się do piwnicy po przyprawy i zioła. Zakonny charakter kuchni podkreśla zmieniająca się każdego dnia scenografia, zależna od kalendarza krzyżackiego regulującego porządek świąt i uroczystości, dni postnych, jak również okresów zwykłych. W zamku jadano wieprzowinę, wołowinę, drób, dziczyznę. Istotną rolę odgrywały ryby. Uzupełnieniem dań głównych było pieczywo, kasze i ryż. Z nabiału najwięcej spożywano jaj i serów. Mniejszą rolę odgrywała śmietana i mleko, te ostatnie najczęściej zastępował wyciąg z migdałów. Do podstawowych napojów należały piwa i miody. Wiadomo, że sprowadzano do Malborka 19 gatunków win, najwięcej reńskiego, ale było także węgierskie, greckie i włoskie. Bracia pijali nie mniej niż 12 gatunków piwa.
Zamek w Malborku – jeden z największych zamków na świecie, położony na prawym brzegu Nogatu, wzniesiony w kilku etapach od 1280 do poł. XV w. przez zakon krzyżacki. Początkowo konwentualna siedziba komtura, od 1309 po przeniesieniu przez Siegfrieda von Feuchtwangena stolicy zakonu do Malborka, siedziba wielkich mistrzów zakonu krzyżackiego i władz Prus Zakonnych do 1457, w latach 1457–1772 rezydencja królów Polski, od 1466 siedziba władz Prus Królewskich, od 1568 siedziba Komisji Morskiej, w 1772 zajęty przez administrację Królestwa Prus i zdewastowany w latach 1773–1804; rekonstruowany w latach 1817–1842 i 1882–1944, zniszczony w 1945, ponownie rekonstruowany od 1947; w 1949 wpisany do rejestru zabytków, w 1994 uznany za pomnik historii, w 1997 wpisany na listę światowego dziedzictwa UNESCO jako jeden z najznakomitszych przykładów średniowiecznej architektury obronno-rezydencyjnej w Europie Środkowej. Od 1961 zamek jest siedzibą Muzeum Zamkowego w Malborku.
The Coates Hotel was designed by Van Brunt & Howe in 1891.
The Coates Hotel is on the National Register #72000715. And it is also in the Wholesale District (also known as the Garment District) Historic District, National Register #79001375.
Lunchtime stroll around the neighborhood. I saw this gentleman on his phone this way. Not wanting to creep on him, I introduced myself, explained myself, and asked if I could take a couple of pictures of his back. Bemused, he asked what he needed to do. "Nothing. Just do what you're doing." He was willing to do that.
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I’ve passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for
a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in
it.
I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there
are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn’t haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn’t be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen
panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed
and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I’d put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I’d buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I’d find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.
Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window
and door,
Looks idle, perhaps and foolish, like a hat on its block in the
store.
But there’s nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.
But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby’s laugh and held up his stumbling
feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it’s left alone, that ever your eyes
could meet.
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen
apart,
For I can’t help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken
heart. Author: Joyce Kilmer
Mike Oldfield once live at 38 Woodside Gardens N17 where he laid down the first demo to the classic Album Tubular Bells. That house is in this shot
Took a photographic walk along the alley behind the business district in East Liberty along Penn Avenue, a stretch that has seen many changes over the decades. I found several stupendous walls reflecting the passage of time and fashion, left raw and exposed because this is a back alley meant for deliveries, trash, etc. and no effort has been made to render them more presentable. (In this case, the front facades of the same buildings are not in especially presentable shape, either). Now that East Liberty has gone upscale in recent years, this kind of quaint connection to the past is likely to be tidied up--a sign of good times, for some anyway, and better times yet to come, but also a loss for those, like me, who find beauty in these untidy places.
This is the rear of the former Woolworth store, the anchor of the neighborhood at one time, in much the same way that the Target store now is. It's a reminder of simpler times of prosperity, of a thriving community before it fell victim to utopian 1960s urban redevelopment schemes and "white flight" triggered by the influx of poor blacks from the neighborhood near downtown that was removed to construct the Civic Arena, a hockey and performance venue. The Civic Arena itself, having lost a community fight for adaptive reuse, has been replaced by a parking lot for the new hockey arena, financed by profits from the natural gas fracking boom in this part of the state, the subject of a political fight between energy industry interests and environmental groups.
Really grainy film, but an interesting building none the less.
Zenit 11
Truprint 400 film (expired)
Helios 44m-4
One of the red brick chimneys of Lincoln Castle's Victorian prison, with Lincoln Cathedral centre stage and to the right, the Castle's Observatory Tower.
The Strathspey Railway operates from platform 3 of Network Rail's Aviemore railway station. Until 1998 the railway's southern terminus was Aviemore Speyside about 300 yards (270 m) further north. Aviemore Speyside is no longer in regular use, although its platform has been retained as a fallback in case of problems with access to the Network Rail station. Coaling of the steam locomotives is carried out at a facility constructed in 2014 on the site of the former Aviemore Speyside station building. Its signal box, which was formerly at Garve West and transported from there in 1986, was retained when the station itself shut. New features are gradually being brought into service at the Aviemore site controlled using traditional British Railways mechanical semaphore signalling.
From Aviemore, the line passes the four-road locomotive shed which was constructed by the Highland Railway in 1898. The original purpose of the shed was to house locomotives for the lines to Perth and Inverness (via Carrbridge and Forres). It was common for original Highland Railway engines to be allocated to the shed and in London, Midland and Scottish Railway (LMS) days it housed Stanier Black Fives, Pickersgill Bogies (Caledonian Railway), Caley 439 tanks, Caley 812 classes, and Fairburn tanks. In British Railways days the shed was allocated the shed code '60B'. These days the engines that are in traffic on the Strathspey Railway still bear the 60B shedplate on their smokebox. The shed has a 60-foot (18 m) turntable, originally from Kyle of Lochalsh.
There is also a carriage maintenance shed which was erected and opened for use in 2005; this shed allows the railway's volunteers and staff to work on its fleet of coaches indoors. On the opposite side of the line is a three road carriage storage shed erected and opened in 2011; this allows the coaches to be stored under cover and protected from the weather.
The former engine crew hostel, called Spey Lodge, stands just to the north. This building was erected by the LMS during the Second World War to provide railway crews with a safe and cheap option for accommodation whilst rostered to work locally. The British Railways Staff Association For Scotland then took it on to provide holiday accommodation for railway staff and their families. It was saved by the Strathspey Railway Company during the 1970s and gradually the facilities have been upgraded by volunteers. Spey Lodge now fulfils its original role again, providing hostel accommodation for engine crews and other volunteers working on the railway.
After Spey Lodge, the railway passes the site of the new Aviemore Hospital then crosses Dalfaber level crossing, an Automatic Open Crossing, Locally Monitored (AOCL). This level crossing was not originally part of the railway, but was installed after the development of the Dalfaber Estate in the 1980s. After crossing the road and passing the Cairngorm Brewery the line climbs through Granish Moor. This heather moor affords views of Cairngorm Mountain and the line runs parallel to the Speyside Way, a popular walking and cycling route. Once into the forest at the north end of the moor, the line descends past Boat of Garten golf course and into the village of Boat of Garten itself.
Amersfoort, Utrecht, The Netherlands
For more doors and windows see my album Doors & Windows.
More from The Netherlands in my album Nederland...
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© 2019 Ivan van Nek
Please do not use any of my pictures on websites, blogs or in other media without my permission.
DSC_3727
The main gate to the ruins of castle in Czersk.
Czersk is a small town, 39 km from the center of Warsaw, in Piaseczno County. Czersk’s main tourist attraction is its medieval brick castle which was built on a hill between 1398 and 1406 for the Mazovia Prince - Janusz I. It had three towers and curtains which were 8 meters high and almost 2 meters thick. Czersk became the capital of the Mazovian Duchy due to its significant settlement along the Vistula river. Queen Bona Sforza, among others, lived in the castle. In the 15th century, however, the Vistula river shifted its bed, moving away from Czersk. As a consequence the site fell into obscurity and the castle began to decay. During the war with the Swedes, in 1656, the castle became partly ruined. The retreating land army, close to Warta, under Stefan Czarniecki's command had captured the stronghold and had devastated it. The castle went through a reconstruction between 1762–1766, when Marszałek Franciszek Bieliński had commanded the reconstruction of the stronghold. However, due to the Prussian Partition, the Prussian leader had ordered for the demolition of the castle's defense walls, reducing the stronghold's military importance. From that time, nobody had every again took on the reconstruction of the castle. From the once mighty stronghold, all of the towers; a brick bridge from the eighteenth century; and the north and east wing of the castle had all survived. Today the castle ruins and the pituresque village have become tourist attractions. The towers were recently renovated and there is a fantastic view of the Vistula River valley from their terraces.
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Brama główna prowadząca na dziedziniec zamku w Czersku.
Czersk- dawne miasto, obecnie wieś w gminie Góra Kalwaria w powiecie piaseczyńskim. Jedno z najstarszych miast na Mazowszu i stolica jednego z księstw dzielnicowych. Miasto założone przed 1350 rokiem. Miejsce obrad sejmików ziemskich ziemi czerskiej od XVI wieku do pierwszej połowy XVIII wieku. Obecnie Czersk znany jest głównie z ruin średniowiecznego zamku książąt mazowieckich, które są główną atrakcją turystyczną tej małej miejscowości i równocześnie jednym z najcenniejszych zabytków na Mazowszu. W XI wieku w miejscu dzisiejszego zamku istniał drewniano ziemny gród o konstrukcji izbicowej, który został zbudowany w czasach panowania Bolesława Śmiałego lub Władysława Hermana. W XIV wieku książę mazowiecki Janusz I, rozkazał w miejscu przestarzałego grodu zbudować ceglany zamek, który powstał w latach 1388 - 1410. Była to jedna z najważniejszych rezydencji księcia Janusza I, który zmarł na tym zamku w dniu 8 grudnia 1429 roku. Gdy tereny te zostały przyłączone do Królestwa Polskiego w 1526 roku, zamek stał się własnością królewską. W tym też okresie nadbudowano cylindryczne wieże. Od 1547 roku zamek podlegał królowej Bonie, która nakazała wymianę drewnianej zabudowy dziedzińca na murowaną. W czasie Potopu szwedzkiego, w 1656 roku, zamek w Czersku doznał bardzo poważnego uszczerbku, zaś po III rozbiorze Polski i objęciu Czerska przez Prusaków mury zostały częściowo zburzone. Od tego czasu zamek jest zrujnowany. Do dzisiaj zachowana jest większość murów zamku oraz wszystkie trzy wieże (Brama, Południowa i Zachodnia), z których można podziwiać panoramę okolicy. Obecnie ruiny zamku udostępnione są zwiedzającym.
The house appears to predate the civil war and is extremely well built. The house is reputedly haunted.
There were four of us taking photos and we all had issues with focusing. There was adequate light and flash when necessary. Stairway leading to the second floor.
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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 northwest of Lettice’s flat, in the working-class London suburb of Harlesden where Edith, Lettice’s maid, grew up. Edith’s father, George, works at the McVitie and Price* biscuit factory in Harlesden as a Line Manager, and her mother, Ada, takes in laundry occasionally at home. They live in a small, two storey brick terrace house which opens out directly onto the street, and is far removed from the grandeur of Lettice’s Mayfair flat, but has always been a cosy and welcoming home for Edith.
It is early morning, and Ada is enjoying a moment of quiet contemplation and dreams as she sits at the kitchen table with one of her mismatched flora teacup and saucer sets - pieces she has acquired over the years from fossicking in flea markets** and jumble sales*** around the local area – before her and her trusty Brown Betty**** teapot from which she has poured a good hot and steeped cup of tea. On the hob, her old and slightly dinted kettle rattles slightly as the water she has refilled it with slowly begins to boil.
Ada enjoys this time of day, and it is a guilty pleasure of hers just to sit there, toying with her thick plait of mousy brown hair streaked with silvery grey, and doing nothing. It is blissfully quiet. There are no children screaming and calling on the street outside as they play games, no footfalls of passing traffic, or light gossip of some of the other women in the street as they walk to and from the grocers. George is still sound asleep in the double bed with the comfortably sagging mattress they have shared since the day they were married. Soon she will take him up a cup of tea along with the Daily Mail***** that will be shortly delivered to their doorstep, and then her day of chores will start, beginning with a hearty breakfast for George, ready to be served to him when he saunters down the stairs in his smart line manager’s uniform, fresh after his ablutions at the ewer set******.
As she listens to the gentle sonorous tick of the wall clock, a sound she is so used to hearing that she forgets it exists once her everyday chores of cooking, cleaning and laundering around the kitchen start, and smiles at its constant, rhythmic sound. And then, as she lifts the cup to her lips and sips some more hot, sweet tea, she hears the rattle of glass and the rasp of paper on the front doorstep and knows that it is the call to begin her day.
Opening her front door slowly, Ada peeps outside and looks with a keen eye to make sure that there is no-one out on the silent street outside as the horse drawn milk cart lumbers away, or that any of her neighbours’ front room curtains are twitching, silently indicating a pair of watchful eyes. Satisfied, she steps out, pulling the green and russet heavy wearing plaid cotton blanket cloth******* of her robe more tightly around her and flipping her plait over her shoulder so that it falls down her back. With George employed as a line manager at the McVite and Price factory, the Watsfords are the only household in the working class street, well off enough to be able to afford the luxury of having milk and a newspaper subscription delivered to their door by Mr. Lovegrove, the local grocer, so Ada is safely able to bend down and pick up the two pints******** of creamy white milk in the glass bottles without being observed in her wrapper. Shoving the bottles roughly under either arm, she shakes out the newspaper and peruses the headlines printed in bold black letters, as she stands on her threshold. Her face falls. She quickly folds the newspaper again and retreats indoors with a worried look on her face, closing the door behind her.
The gentle rattle of a silver metal teaspoon against a china cup pre-empts Ada’s entrance into the mater bedroom at the top of the stairs of the Watsford’s terrace house that she and her husband share. She opens the door which creaks a little on its hinges as she does. The comforting fug of sleep still fills the room as much as George’s heavy snores, which indicate that he is still blissfully in deep slumber. Ada quietly pads across the bare wooden boards and rag rugs********* in her slippers over to her dressing table which sits in front of the window. She eases the cup onto the corner of the silky oak dresser and then reaches up, pulling back the red velvet curtains with a flourish, flooding the bedroom with dull morning light from an overcast London day outside. Ada glances out on the view of the street below and the terrace across the road which mirrors their own. A momentary look tells her that life is starting to come to the street in the crepuscule light, with her neighbour opposite, Mrs. Curlew, already out, scrubbing the flagstones outside her front door, and several men in suits and hats with small cases in their hands heading off towards the railway station as they attend their clerical jobs in the city.
Turning back, Ada says cheerfully, “Morning George love. Time to wake up.”
George stirs, his snores broken with a snort and an inwards gasp of breath before his eyes flutter open and he glances across with sleep encrusted eyes to his wife. “Morning Ada love.” he yawns.
Ada walks over to his side of the bed and hands him his cup of tea as he sits upright against his pillows and yawns again. He accepts the tea gratefully, but when he waits for her to hand him the newspaper as she usually does, he senses her hesitation as she keeps the morning edition of the Daily Mail firmly under her crooked arm.
“What’s wrong, Ada love?” He looks up into her face with concern and he notices the pinched look on hers that she gets when she is worried.
“It’s about to start.” Ada replies flatly.
“What is?” George’s furrows in his forehead deepen as he looks at his wife’s pale face as he takes a sip of tea from the floral teacup she has passed him.
“The General Strike********** of course, George.” Ada replies with a little irritation sharping the edge of her voice.
“Well, we knew it was coming, Ada.” George says kindly, reaching out his right hand and wrapping it around his wife’s fingers knitted with concern in her lap, squeezing them consolingly. “It was only a matter of time.”
“So much for your nation of shopkeepers and gardeners***********.” Ada scoffs scornfully, referring to a comment George had made a few weeks ago to their daughter about the British being too peaceful a nation for the rumours of a general strike to come to anything.
“Yes… well…” George says awkwardly as he coughs and clears his throat. “I disabused myself of that attitude a little while ago now.”
“They say that this will be the last normal edition of the Daily Mail for now for the foreseeable future, until the strike is over, with newspaper workers walking off the job at midnight tonight************, so enjoy it whilst you can.”
“Today or tomorrow, then?” George asks, knowing Ada will have read the article before bringing him his tea and the Daily Mail.
“Tomorrow.” She pulls her hands away from her husband and withdraws the sheath of newsprint from beneath her arm and places it within her husband’s grasp.
He takes it and glances greedily at the headlines that still ask whether the General Strike can be avoided at the last minute, as mine owners refuse to back down on longer hours. “Britain’s hour of trial.” George reads aloud.
“It says that there are still talks happening to avert the strike.” Ada says hopefully. “It’s…” She hesitates. “It’s not a foregone conclusion.”
“Isn’t it, Ada love?” George asks rhetorically, sadly. He looks at his wife earnestly. “The mine owners aren’t going to back down now: not with the government supporting them. And the miners are well within their rights to strike.”
“Their rights, George?” Ada queries.
“It’s an atrocious offer they have been made, if you can indeed call it that.” George replies hotly, any grogginess of sleep now gone from his voice or his face as his eyes sharpen. “How would you like it if the bosses at McVities told me I had to work longer hours, for no extra pay.”
“But you aren’t, George love, and you don’t.”
“But they are, love.” George nods at the photo of colliery workers************* in tatty, non matching and ill-fitting trousers, suit jackets and flat caps, their faces white for lack of sunshine and their cheeks hollow for want of food, marching beneath banners for their unions along a city street somewhere in Wales. “And that’s not right. No-one should be forced to work longer hours for no more, or even less pay, as the mine owners are telling them to do. They deserve rights as workers to a fairer deal.”
“You sound like a revolutionary, George.” Ada says dourly.
“A fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay is not revolutionary at all, Ada.” he counters from amidst the tousled bedsheets before sipping some more of his cup of tea. “There’s nothing fair in this offer. Those mine owners and industrialists have never worked a hard day in their lives,” he scoffs. “Never mind work down a pit like the men they commandeer. And they live of the toil, sweat and blood of their workers. This strike will be drawn on class lines, you mark my words.”
“Class lines?” Ada asks in alarm.
“Yes.” George nods seriously. “It’s us against them, Ada love. The haves against the have-nots. The workers against the toffs**************.”
“Now you sound like Edith’s Frank, George love.” Ada scolds.
“Well, if I were thirty years younger, with my whole life ahead of me and a fiancée, I probably would be like young Frank.” George opines. “Standing up for workers’ rights with the trade unions and fighting for a better future.”
“Don’t talk like that George.” Ada insists, her voice becoming higher pitched with worry. “Not even in jest.”
“Who’s jesting, Ada love? If I was younger, I probably would join the strikers.”
“You’re scaring me.” Ada pauses and then asks gingerly, “You… you won’t go out on strike too… will you?”
George scoffs again, huffing Ada’s remark dismissively. “I said if I were thirty years younger, love. Not now. I’m too old to have the spark and drive the likes of young Frank and his friends at the trade unions have, even if I can regurgitate the fire and brimstone talk of a striker.”
Ada breathes a heavy sigh of relief.
“Besides,” George goes on. “I’m not a miner, transport or utility worker, a printer or person from the heavy industries***************. They’re the ones going out on strike, not factory workers like me.”
“I’m glad to hear that, George love, even if you perhaps aren’t, in your heart of hearts.” Ada sighs heavily with relief again and smiles down at her husband sitting in bed in his blue and white striped flannel pyjamas, drinking tea beneath his bushy moustache. “As my husband, I appreciate your steadfastness in this ever-changing world we live in. You’re my rock, you know.”
George smiles at Ada. “I know, Ada love. When I took my wedding vows all those years ago, I was serious: for better or worse, in good times and bad, I am here to protect you and provide for you as best as I can.”
Ada reaches out and gently strokes her husband’s tousled bed hair, allowing her hand to glide over his sandy blonde and beech brown hair flecked with streaks and tufts of grey, before leaning down and kissing him chastely, yet lovingly on the lips. “You’re a good man, George Watsford.”
“Thank you Ada love.”
“For a revolutionary.” she adds cheekily.
“And you’re a good woman…” he pauses. “Some of the time.” He chuckles.
Sighing, Ada propels herself off the bed with a groan by pressing her palms to her knees and forcing herself up off the mattress, the springs of which protest as much as her at her sudden movement. She walks back across to the window and peers out from the edge of the curtain. Below Mrs. Curlew still scrubs her flagstones with gusto on her hands and knees, and at number eighteen, young and pretty new mother Mrs. Miles steps out of her front door, bouncing her fussing baby girl, Sally, on her hip. Calling out to Mrs. Curlew two doors down, who pauses and lifts her head from her work before waving and calling an acknowledgement back, Mrs. Miles walks down and the two start chatting happily together.
“The whole of London will be waking up to this news.” Ada remarks as she watches an early swallow, fresh in from its long migration from South Africa skim the air as it flutters around the chimney pots of the terraces on the opposite side of the street. “I wonder what it will all mean for us.” She eyes a small curlicue of smoke wafting out of the terrace between Mrs. Curlew’s and Mrs, Miles’ houses, indicating that now someone was up at number sixteen, adding coal to the range in the kitchen as the householders embrace the new working week, and prepare Monday morning breakfast or heated water to fill a tin bath with. “Will there be coal rationing**************** like there was during the war, do you think, George? Or food rationing*****************?”
“Well,” George sighs, letting the paper crumple noisily across his lap as he looks over at his wife. “That all depends upon how long the strike goes for, and what the government does to ensure supplies, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they do. I’d better go and add a second lock to the door of our coal shed****************** when I get up.”
“Oh George!” Ada gasps. “Surely, you don’t think?” Her panicked voice trails off.
“I do!” her husband nods dourly. “During times of strife, people can do strange things that are usually out of character for them, and it gets even worse when people are desperate. Neighbours stop being neighbourly and become enemies instead. If the utility workers go out on strike too, with coal shortages, I would imagine there will be electricity shortages too*******************.”
“Thank goodness we don’t have that awful electricity, then.” Ada crows.
“Yes, but there may be gas shortages too, Ada love.” George tempers here momentary jubilation. “So, we could just as easily be impacted as those who have electricity.”
“Well, I have plenty of candles to last us, should that happen.”
“Is there anything else you think we might be in need of in the pantry, Ada love?” George asks. “I reckon there may be panic buying in the shops.”
“I’ll go shopping this morning.” Ada replies as she strokes her plait anxiously again. “I have plenty of flour too, so I can easily bake us bread, and you can get fresh vegetables from the allotment, but I might buy a few extra provisions, like jam and tea, and stock up on soap and matches.”
“The allotments may be fair game if this lasts too long, Ada love.” George remarks.
“Let’s hope not, love. I wonder how this will impact Edith?”
“Well, I’d say with transport workers going on strike, even if the government do get volunteers to drive trains and buses from amongst the upper sets********************, Edith won’t be able to visit us this week. There won’t be enough transport for everyone like there usually is. There will be workers wanting to get to their jobs. Thank God, I can walk to work.”
“Yes, I’ll be grateful for any small mercies afforded us at this moment. I don’t know if she’d be able to visit us anyway with the strike on, even if there are enough trains and buses.” Ada shares aloud. “She mentioned to me last week that Miss Chetwynd has volunteered to work in a canteen********************* if this situation ever eventuated, and that she’d be commandeered by her to boil water for tea, and make sandwiches.”
“So Miss Chetwynd doesn’t have to soil her lily white fingers, I’ll wager.” George mutters as he returns to the newspaper.
“That’s unfair, George.” Ada responds. “It’s not Miss Chetwynd’s fault that she doesn’t know how to cook or make tea, and if she did, then our daughter would be out of a job that pays well and offers benefits many other domestics in her position don’t get. Anyway, I imagine Miss Chetwynd would see volunteering as a responsible duty.”
“I’m sure the volunteers will be all those ‘respectable folk’ looking to do their civic duty during the crisis.”
“Well, whatever you may think, George, I think it’s a noble thing to do, and even if you feel Edith is on the wrong side, I’m glad she’s helping anyway.”
“Ha!” George bursts, but says no more as he shakes the paper peevishly.
“I know she was worried that Frank might get himself involved with the strikers in some way if the strike happened.”
“Well, he is a young man, Ada love,” George remarks without looking up from his opened newspaper. “And very passionate about workers’ rights.”
“You aren’t instilling me with any confidence about Frank’s sense of responsibility, George.”
George sighs and looks up from the paper at his wife again. “Boys will be boys, Ada. And whatever concerns you may have about Frank, he will do just as he likes, regardless of your good opinion or not.”
“He should be thinking of Edith, not getting himself into any foolish tomfoolery.”
“And I’m sure he will consider all the risks, Ada love. Frank may be young and hot blooded, full of vim and vigour**********************, but he’s not a rash lad. He’s very considered.” He chuckles. “After all, look how long it took him to propose to our Edith.”
Ada pulls a doubtful face and glances out of the window again. Mrs Curlew is gone, but Mrs. Miles is in the centre of a clutch of housewives now, and one woman who is dressed in an outdoor three-quarter length black coat and a black and white cloche hat appears to have a copy of a newspaper with her that she is showing the others with wild gesticulations, causing the ladies clustered around her to look concerned. There are also some men hurrying down the street, their feet slapping hard and noisily against the paving stones of the street. Ada can just hear one of them call out to one of the women in the clutch about whether she’s heard the news or not, and Ada sees her nod in reply.
“Well, I’d best get your breakfast going then, George love. I had other plans for today, but I think I might have to put some of them on hold. Looks like news about the strike is spreading in the street outside already, so if I’m going to get provisions, you’d better get a move on so I can feed you and then be off. I reckon there will be a queue outside Mr. Lovegrove’s before too long, and Mr and Mrs. Chapman’s.”
“Well,” George replies, yawning and groaning as he puts the Daily Mail aside and stretches as he prepares to fling back the blankets. “You know I don’t want to do without my steak and kidney pies, Ada love. Vegetables are all well and good in their place, but a working man like me needs his meat.”
“Then get a wriggle on, George Watsford, so I can get down to the grocers and the butchers before they run out of everything.”
“At least we know, that no matter whatever else, you’ll have biscuits in plentiful supply for as long as I work for McVites.”
“Man cannot live off biscuits alone, George love.”
“What? Not even McVities?” George laughs. He swings his flannel clad legs out from under the covers and slips his large and knobbly bare feet into the worn interiors of his carpet slippers*********************** sitting by the bedside and reaches for his own thick tartan dressing gown.
“No, not even McVities.” Ada laughs tiredly in reply, glad of this momentary moment of laughter however fleeting.
“Well, if there is to be a war waged, it cannot be fought on an empty stomach. Best I have breakfast and go make biscuits then, for both sides of this strike.”
*McVitie's (Originally McVitie and Price) is a British snack food brand owned by United Biscuits. The name derives from the original Scottish biscuit maker, McVitie and Price, Ltd., established in 1830 on Rose Street in Edinburgh, Scotland. The company moved to various sites in the city before completing the St. Andrews Biscuit Works factory on Robertson Avenue in the Gorgie district in 1888. The company also established one in Glasgow and two large manufacturing plants south of the border, in Heaton Chapel, Stockport, and Harlesden, London (where Edith’s father works). McVitie and Price's first major biscuit was the McVitie's Digestive, created in 1892 by a new young employee at the company named Alexander Grant, who later became the managing director of the company. The biscuit was given its name because it was thought that its high baking soda content served as an aid to food digestion. The McVitie's Chocolate Homewheat Digestive was created in 1925. Although not their core operation, McVitie's were commissioned in 1893 to create a wedding cake for the royal wedding between the Duke of York and Princess Mary, who subsequently became King George V and Queen Mary. This cake was over two metres high and cost one hundred and forty guineas. It was viewed by 14,000 and was a wonderful publicity for the company. They received many commissions for royal wedding cakes and christening cakes, including the wedding cake for Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip and Prince William and Catherine Middleton. Under United Biscuits McVitie's holds a Royal Warrant from Queen Elizabeth II.
**A flea market is an outdoor or indoor venue where many vendors gather to sell varied goods, typically second-hand items, vintage clothing, antiques, and collectibles at bargain prices. Also known as bazaars, or in America swap meets, they offer a more casual fossicking style of shopping experience often featuring handmade goods, food vendors, and unique, rustic finds. Items commonly found include vintage clothing, antique furniture, retro items, household goods, and handmade products style, with bargaining and low prices common, and expected. The term is believed to be a translation of the French “marché aux puces”, referring to the Nineteenth Century "flea markets" in Paris.
***A jumble sale is a British community event, often held in church or village halls, where donated second-hand goods are sold to raise funds for charity or local organisations. Common items sold include used clothes, books, toys, and bric-a-brac at very low prices.
****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 Daily Mail was first published on May the 4th, 1896, in London. Founded by brothers Alfred and Harold Harmsworth (later Lord Northcliffe and Lord Rothermere), it was a pioneering, low-cost (halfpenny) tabloid aimed at the "busy man" and the newly literate middle class. While 100,000 copies were planned, the first day's print run was 397,215, making it an immediate success. It was originally launched as a broadsheet newspaper. It was the first British daily to sell a million copies a day, utilising modern printing techniques for fast, concise news coverage.
******Primarily for washing hands and face, acting as a portable lavatory set on a washstand in a bedroom, an ewer set is made up of a jug (ewer) usually tall with a flared, ornate spout, and a basin that is wide and shallow to catch water. They were commonly used for bedside grooming in the days before indoor plumbing. Some ewers, particularly in earlier times, were used for serving liquids like wine or water at the table. They are still used in religious settings (like church baptisms). Ewers are often described as decorative, ornate pieces, and they are sometimes used as decorative pieces today rather than for their original purpose.
*******Dressing gowns in 1920s in Britain were made from a variety of materials designed for both luxury and practical comfort, transitioning from Edwardian-era cottons to more glamorous, lighter fabrics. Popular materials included silk, satin, rayon, crepe de chine, and velvet for luxurious, "movie star" style robes, while practical winter gowns were often crafted from flannel, wool cashmere, or heavy cotton blanket cloth.
********Britain in the 1920s used imperial measures like pints. The nation began officially adopting the metric system in 1965, with a gradual transition that continued through the 1970s and 1980s. However, the United Kingdom never fully stopped using imperial measures, resulting in a hybrid system where imperial units like miles, pints, and feet are still used, particularly for road signs, beer, and milk today.
*********Often referred to as "thrift rugs," rag rugs were commonly found in working class houses across Britain in the 1920s. Made by recycling old clothing, blankets, and scraps of fabric, which were hooked or prodded through a piece of hessian, such as a food sack, these rugs were crucial for providing warmth and comfort in the home, particularly on cold floors, in parlours, bedrooms, or sculleries, and served as draught excluders in front of doors or fireplaces. In Britain, they were also known by various names such as proddy mats, clippy mats, or peggy mats. A proud and thrifty housewife like Ada would have been proud to have a number of these rugs, as not only did it show her skills as a needlewoman, but also her ability not to be wasteful and give old clothes a second life. While sometimes a creative endeavour, in the 1920s, rag rug making was strongly associated with hard times, and in the UK, it was often considered a sign of poverty, which meant these items were often not well-documented or preserved.
**********The 1926 General Strike was a nine-day nationwide stoppage in the United Kingdom between the third and twelfth of May. It was called by the Trades Union Congress (TUC) to support over a million coal miners facing wage cuts and longer hours. Following "Black Friday" in 1921, miners faced a lockout after refusing "not a penny off the pay, not an hour on the day" wage reductions and longer hours. About one point seven million workers paralysed transport, printing, and heavy industries temporarily. Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin's Conservative government declared a state of emergency, using volunteers and the military to maintain essential supplies and transport. The government produced the British Gazette to counter the strikers' message. The TUC ended the strike on May the twelfth, 1926, fearing it was moving toward a revolutionary, anti-democratic action. The miners remained locked out until the autumn, eventually accepting lower pay and longer hours, without securing any concessions.
***********"A nation of shopkeepers" is a phrase, often attributed to Napoleon Bonaparte but actually appearing earlier in Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations (1776), describing Britain's industrious, merchant-driven economy. "A nation of gardeners" highlights the widespread British passion for horticulture, formalised by organizations like the Royal Horticultural Society.
************During the 1926 General Strike, London newspapers were effectively silenced or severely restricted as printing unions joined the strike as printers walked out at midnight on the 3rd of May 1926, stopping the publication of national daily and Sunday newspapers. A refusal by Daily Mail printers to print an anti-strike editorial triggered the showdown, leading to newspaper workers joining the wider movement against pay reductions. Major publications ceased or were reduced to small, typewritten bulletins. To combat the support of the General Strike and thereby bring it to a speedy close, Winston Churchill edited an official government newspaper published during the days of the General Strike, called the British Gazette to rally patriotism, which was published at the offices of the Morning Post, which peaked at over 2 million copies. The Trades Union Congress (TUC) printed their own paper to maintain morale, called the British Worker, but it was nowhere near as popular as the British Gazette. Newspapers did not return to normal service until after the nine day strike ended, on the 13th of May.
*************A colliery worker is someone employed at a coal mine (or "colliery"), either underground or on the surface. While often referring to coal hewers (who cut the coal), the term includes a variety of roles, such as byeworkers repairing tunnels, haulage staff moving coal, and surface workers managing machinery and processing.
**************A toff is a British slang term for a rich, upper-class, or well-dressed person, typically used with disdain, irony, or disapproval to suggest arrogance or privilege. It often describes someone from the landed gentry or an aristocratic background.
***************Around one and a half to one and three quarter million, and by some accounts up to three million, workers went on strike in Britain from May 4th to the 12th, 1926, in the General Strike, to support locked-out coal miners. The strike primarily involved workers in transport (railway, bus, dock), heavy industry (iron, steel), printing, and utilities (gas, electricity), which caused significant disruption to travel and freight, affected and limited newspaper publication and created major shortages of electricity and gas across the country.
****************There was significant coal rationing and severe fuel restrictions during the General Strike of 1926. During the strike, households were forced to restrict their use of lighting and heating, and industries not considered essential had their coal supplies cut off entirely. Because the strike was directly triggered by a lockout of coal miners, the government immediately took control of fuel supplies to maintain essential services. Upon the start of the strike on May 4, 1926, the government implemented strict "Emergency Powers" to manage resources, including strict control over the distribution of coal, gas, and electricity. An embargo was placed on the movement of coal, and existing supplies were reserved strictly for essential services rather than industrial or household use. The government anticipated the strike and stockpiled coal, which allowed them to implement rationing immediately and prevent a total shutdown of public utilities. Whilst the general strike lasted nine days (May 4–12), coal production was halved, and the miners remained locked out until the end of 1926, resulting in ongoing, severe coal shortages throughout the year. To manage the shortage, the government was forced to import millions of tons of coal from Germany and Poland.
*****************Whilst formal, government-mandated food rationing like that seen in the World Wars was not implemented during the nine-day 1926 General Strike, extreme shortages and panic buying led to severe food distribution issues. The government activated emergency measures, using the military to protect food convoys and supply lines. The transport paralysis caused by the strike resulted in immediate food shortages, leading to long queues for bread and essentials. The government invoked emergency legislation, focusing on protecting convoys and ensuring essential supplies, such as milk, reached urban areas, according to reports in. Volunteers were utilised to keep essential services running to prevent severe scarcity, while some, particularly in working-class communities, had to rely on community food sharing or soup kitchens. The strike lasted from May the 3red to May the 12th, 1926, meaning shortages were intense but relatively brief, not necessitating the long-term rationing systems of 1918 or 1940.
******************In more affluent middle and upper class areas, homes were usually supplied with coal through a “coal hole” a term specifically used to refer to a hatch or cover in the pavement that allowed coal to be tipped into a coal cellar, thus keeping houses looking tidy and neat and avoiding unnecessary mess from coal dust. Poorer areas however often had houses with coal sheds, which were purpose-built brick outhouses used to store fuel, often located in the back gardens of houses or an alleyways running behind them.
*******************There were electricity and gas shortages and disruptions during the General Strike of 1926, although the government managed to prevent a total shutdown of these services. As the strike was called in support of locked-out coal miners, the supply of coal-dependent energy was heavily impacted from the start. Electricity and gas workers were included in the first line of "shock troops" called out by the Trades Union Congress (TUC). The strike caused significant disruption to utility plants, with picketing reported at Manchester power stations. While the national grid did not exist in its modern form, many areas faced dwindling fuel stocks. Some areas, such as parts of Devon, reported having "fairly large" stocks, indicating a patchy, rather than universally catastrophic, shortage. The government had prepared for nine months using the Emergency Powers Act 1920, employing volunteers and troops to operate power stations and gas works to maintain essential services.
********************There were thousands of volunteers, primarily from the middle and upper classes, who stepped in to keep transport services, food deliveries, and vital communications running during the 1926 General Strike. Volunteers, including university students, car owners, and white-collar workers, drove buses, lorries, and trains. By the end of the nine-day strike, nearly one thousand buses were operating in London, driven by volunteers. Due to high tensions and occasional attacks on transport, volunteer-driven buses and food convoys were often escorted by police and troops, and had wires woven around the driver cabs and the passenger windows on the lower decks of busses boarded over. The volunteers, often dubbed "strikebreakers" or "blacklegs" by strikers, were organised by the government managed Organisation for the Maintenance of Supplies—established in 1925. The OMS was used to register and deploy roughly one hundred thousand volunteers, though a smaller number were actively involved in daily transport.
*********************During the 1926 General Strike, the volunteer canteens — often staffed by "titled ladies" to feed volunteers maintaining essential services — were largely organized and supported by the upper classes, society women, and the government's emergency volunteer network. Women from high society and the aristocracy, including Lady Louis Mountbatten, Lady Quilter, Lady Mary Ashley Cooper, and Lady Carmichael-Anstruther, participated in and helped manage these canteens. Canteens, such as those overseen by a "Mrs. Loeffler" at Scotland House and similar efforts in Hyde Park, provided food and refreshments to the thousands of middle-class volunteers, such as special constables, who broke the strike. These canteens were part of a coordinated effort by the Conservative government to maintain essential services and counter the strike's effectiveness. The focus of these efforts was to support the volunteer workforce—such as the "special constables"—to keep services running, as opposed to the soup kitchens operated in mining communities by workers' wives to support the miners.
**********************"Full of vim and vigour" means being bursting with energy, enthusiasm, and vitality. It describes someone, often even in old age, who is exceptionally lively, spirited, and active. The phrase is a common idiom representing high-spirited, energetic, and healthy, robust behaviour. “Vim” refers to energy, spirit, and enthusiasm (derived from the Latin vis, meaning strength), and “vigour” refers to physical strength, vitality, and power. The phrase gained popularity in the mid-1800s as a way to emphasise a high level of physical strength and enthusiasm.
***********************Carpet slippers are a soft, low heeled slipper whose upper part is made of wool or thick cloth that can be slipped on and off easily.
This simple scene of what was once a typical sight on people’s doorsteps across Britain may appear real to you, but it is in fact made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The newspaper which features headlines about the 1926 General Strike, is a copy of a real Daily Mail newspaper from the period and was produced to high standards in 1:12 by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
The two bottles of milk are made from fine white porcelain to give the creamy appearance of milk, and are topped with painted bottle tops in gold and silver. They come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The tin bucket and yellow sponge also came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures
The scrubbing brush is one of my smaller miniatures and the whole thing is hand carved from a piece of wood and then painted and lacquered. It comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom.
The black doorstep is in fact made up of two Eighteenth Century domino pieces. They are turned upside down to hide their white ivory facings and the ebony backs are what you can see. After so many years of use they have a lovely worn patina about them, rather like paving stones.
The brick wall in the background is a very special piece, and one of my more recent additions to my miniatures collection. Made painstakingly by hand, this was made by my very dear Flickr friend and artist Kim Hagar (www.flickr.com/photos/bkhagar_gallery/), she surprised me with this amazing piece entitled “Wall” as a Christmas gift, with the intention that I use it in my miniatures photos. Each brick has been individually cut and then worn to give texture before being stuck to the backing board and then painted. She has created several floors in the same way for some of her own miniature projects which you can see in her “In Miniature” album here: www.flickr.com/photos/bkhagar_gallery/albums/721777203007....