Hunter Wellingtons
View allAll Photos Tagged Stockist
Anyone who follows my photostream knows that I love and collect 1:12 size miniatures which I photograph in realistic scenes. The artifice of recreating in minute detail items in 1:12 scale always amazes me, and it’s amazing how the eye can be fooled. Amongst the tens of thousands of items that make up the collection, I have a substantial glassware selection. This includes this beautiful blue glass jug and its matching glasses, which I bought from a high street stockist of dolls and dolls’ house miniatures when I was a young teenager. The pieces are made from hand blown and spun glass, and I am very partial to the colour.
The theme for “Smile on Saturday” for the 3rd of May is “the shadow of glass”, so I really wanted to use a piece or two from my miniatures collection for it. I have photographed the drinks set on a page from one of my books on glass from my library: “Glass: Pleasures and Treasures” by George Savage, published by Weidenfield and Nicholson in 1965. The image from the book depicts a blue glass urn from Roman times. Setting the miniature drinks set up on the page, I was so delighted by the long blue shadows they cast. I spent a bit of time arranging them, and this was the shot I liked the most. I hope you like my choice of this week’s theme too, and that it makes you smile!
My Great Grandparents were Victorians, and after a dinner party, my Great Grandfather used to enjoy sitting with his male guests in the dining room, after the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, where they drank port, brandy and muscatel, smoked cigars and were treated to a slice of Stilton from a large cheese wheel. Stilton is an English cheese, produced in two varieties: blue, which has Penicillium roqueforti added to generate a characteristic smell and taste, and white, which does not. My Great Grandfather only ever ate Blue Stilton. Even on nights when they weren’t entertaining, my Great Grandfather used to indulge in a snifter or brandy and a slice of Blue Stilton in his study after dinner. I remember him doing so, and it is he that I have to thank for my love of Blue Stilton and other blue varieties of cheese to this day. He used to indulge me, in an effort to teach me about cheese and broaden my palate, by giving me a small slice to eat. The more time that passed, and the cheese wheel reduced in size, the stronger the taste and aroma of the cheese became!
The theme for "Looking Close on Friday" for the 13th of June is "cheese". Now, I know you are going to say that this should be a macro shot: and it is. What might surprise you is that everything in this photograph, from the flowers to the cigars, the bottle and glasses to the paintings on the wall, and even the cheese itself are all in fact 1:12 miniatures from my extensive collection which I use for photography purposes. Although not exact, this image very much reflects what the sideboard in my Great Grandparent’s dining room looked like when I was a child: very much of that Victorian and Edwardian era. My Great Grandfather was a cigarette smoker more than a cigar smoker, but he always had a box of them to offer to guests. Anyone who follows my photostream knows that I love and collect 1:12 size miniatures which I photograph in realistic scenes. The artifice of recreating in minute detail items in 1:12 scale always amazes me, and it’s amazing how the eye can be fooled. I hope you like my choice of this week’s theme, and that it makes you smile!
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
As the main focus of my image, the cheese wheel of Blue Stilton came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The knife, gilded white plates and stained wooden box of cigars also came from there.
The vase of red roses on the sideboard is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.
All the brandy snifters on the silver tray in the background I have had since I was a teenager. I bought them from a high street stockist that specialised in dolls’ houses and doll house miniatures. Each glass is hand blown using real glass. The carafe on the same tray I bought at the same time. The tray was made for me from silver metal by my Grandfather, who was very clever and gifted with his hands. The 1:12 artisan bottle of brandy was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire, and is made from glass and the label is a copy of a real brandy label.
The paintings on the wall are from Amber’s Miniatures in America, and the flocked wallpaper is beautiful hand embossed paper given to me by a friend to use with my miniatures.
The Queen Anne sideboard I have had since I was six years old.
“Breakfast without orange juice, is like a day without sunshine.” – Anonymous.
The theme for "Smile on Saturday" for the 23rd of November is "observe the O", where the requirement is that I take a picture of something (person, animal, plant, object) that begins with the letter O, with the idea that just adjectives that start with O are not sufficient for it. I had plenty of ideas, but I settled upon oranges. Now oranges are an obvious choice for the theme, so I decided to make mine a little different. Anyone who follows my photostream knows that I love and collect 1:12 size miniatures which I photograph in realistic scenes. The artifice of recreating in minute detail items in 1:12 scale always amazes me, and it’s amazing how the eye can be fooled. Therefore, whilst this still life with oranges and a jug of orange juice may look life sized, it is in fact made up completely of 1:12 miniature pieces, even the tiny silvers of orange on the chopping board! I hope you like my choice for this week’s theme, and that it makes you smile!
The oranges come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering and have been hand made using polymer clay by an unknown artist. The jug and glass of orange juice, both of which are made from real spun glass, also comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures, as does the wooden chopping board. The juicer was made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The knife comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures Shop in the United Kingdom. The orange slices came from an online stockist of miniatures on eBay.
MUTZLI: *Singing merrily carrying prettily wrapped presents to put under the Christmas tree.* "Oh anyone can play Santa, even a little bear like me. I'll admit I'm underfed, but with a pillow from the bed, I could be Sa...." *Stops in his tracks.* "Malachi!" *Gasps.* "Malachi, what are you doing?"
MALACHI: "Well, I should have thought that was obvious, Mutzli! I'm eating some Christmas biscuits, of course."
MUTZLI: *Looks around and gasps.* "And you've eaten the Festive cake, and the Christmas cake!"
MALACHI: "Correction, Mutzli. There is one slice of Christmas cake left." *Bites into biscuit.*
MUTZLI: "But Malachi! The Christmas cakes and biscuits are supposed to be wrapped for Christmas!"
MALACHI: *Looks at Mutzli.* "But they have been, Mutzli!"
MUTZLI: "What?!? How do you figure that, Malachi?"
MALACHI: "You can be very dense sometimes, dear Mutzli! I should have thought it was obvious!"
MUTZLI: *Screws up muzzle.* "Humour me and enlighten me, Malachi."
MALACHI: "Well, as these are Christmas presents, I decided that these Christmas treats were too good to waste on anybear else, so I thought I would dispense with the waiting until Christmas Day, and eat them all now, because I do have quite a grumbly tummy, Mutzli."
MUTZLI: "But you are supposed to wrap them for Christmas, Malachi! Its tradition!"
MALACHI: "And who is to say I haven't wrapped them, Mutzli?"
MUTZLI: "Oh? How have you wrapped them, Malachi?"
MALACHI: "Well, I should have thought that was obvious, Mutzli! I have wrapped them nicely inside my grumbly tummy!"
MALACHI: *Looks non plussed.* "I don't think that's quite how it is supposed to work, Malachi!"
Last Christmas I was spoiled by some very kind and generous friends who gave me some wonderful gifts that are handmade or specifically aimed at my interests. These included some wonderful miniature Christmas bags, which appear in this tableau with my two 1:12 miniature bears, Malachi and Mutzli.
Also in the scene is a tin of Elke's Christmas Assorted Biscuits which Malachi is enjoying a choice from. The tin was made 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 tins of Christmas cake and Festive cake come from a 1:12 miniature stockist on eBay. The Christmas presents are 1:12 artisan pieces. They were hand made by husband and wife artistic team Margie and Mike Balough who own Serendipity Miniatures in Newcomerstown, Ohio. The Christmas tree is also a 1:12 miniature artisan piece from America.
Malachi I acquired in mid-March 2020 (and mid Coronavirus) from a wonderful Melbourne stalwart toy shop: Dafel Dolls and Bears, when I went looking for a present for one of my goddaughters. Malachi is designed by Mary and hand-made by Wendy Joy in Australia. He has articulated arms and legs, and an extremely sweet face. Malachi was the name he came with, written by hand on his little tag.
Mutzli was a lovely surprise gift from a dear friend in Britain who kindly slipped him into a parcel of other delightful gifts for me. Like Malachi, he is mohair, has articulated arms and legs, and an extremely sweet face. Mutzli got his name from the tiny gold tag around his neck. He is made by Mutzli, a Swiss bear manufacturer since 1949.
panasonic lumix tz70
this morning i continued to experiment with my new camera. i used the panoramic scene setting for this photo. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ... but practise, practise, practise
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
panasonic lumix tz70
this afternoon i continued to experiment with my new camera. i used the scene setting for this shot. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ... but practise, practise, practise
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
In ABCs and 123s: H for Hibiscus
#1 - Commended in the 2013 Welsh International Salon. One of 2 commended images and ten acceptances across the open, nature and travel categories. This was my first attempt at an international exhibition, so I'm pleased to have gained 10 acceptances (from 12 entries).
# 2 - Accepted into Taiwan's International Taichung Exhibition 2013, accredited by FIAP
Looking east over East River.... Manhattan Bridge on the left, Brooklyn Bridge on the right
Shot days after my tripod tipped over in exactly the same spot with a D4, Nikon 14-24 and Lee SW150 Filter system with a ND 0.9 grad filter.... Heart stopping moment!! Luckily, the only thing that broke was the filter ( sadly, this is a regular occurrence for me ).... Smashed to pieces. Scoured New York for a Lee stockist to replace the grad filter - contacted 7 outlets who claimed to be a 'stockist' but for the most part actually only really took orders. Step up The Filter Connection in New Hampshire who didn't have one in stock but that wasn't stopping Adriana (at least I think that was her name)... They got on the phone to Lee in the US and tracked down a SW150 0.75 ND Filter (2.5 stops) and it was shipped to me in New York overnight. I didn't even knew Lee produced a 2.5 stop in the SW150 format (in fact, I still don't think it's available in the UK) and it's completely filled a 'need' for me. There are mornings/evenings when a 3 stop graduation is a bit too much and 0.6 ND (2 stop) just doesn't give you enough - and this fits perfectly between the two - so what began as a disaster actually had a lucky twist in the end :)... The shot above was the first outing with the new filter..... A return to the scene of the crime as it were
panasonic lumix tz70 cost £229.99
this afternoon i used my new camera for the first time. i put it on the point and shoot automatic setting. the photo isn't sharp. i'm going to have to keep reading the manual and taking plenty of photos. i'm sure more practise is what is needed. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ...
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
robin not in focus but hopefully will improve
panasonic lumix tz70
this afternoon i continued to experiment with my new camera. i used the scene and macro settings together with the focus lever. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ... but practise, practise, practise
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
this ripe, red strawberry no longer exists, but tasted good :)
panasonic lumix tz70
this morning i continued to experiment with my new camera. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ... but practise, practise, practise
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
flowers planted in a tin pot hanging from the trellis
panasonic lumix tz70
this morning i experimented with my new camera on the macro setting but also used the focus lever. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ... but practise, practise, practise
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
'sweetheart' a climbing rose with a rich fruity fragrance covering the patio trellis
panasonic lumix tz70
this morning i experimented with my new camera on the macro setting but also used the focus lever. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ... but practise, practise, practise
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
The theme for "Looking Close on Friday" for the 23rd of August is "bicycle". Now I know you are going to say that this should be a macro shot, and it is. What might surprise you is that everything in this photograph a 1:12 size miniature from my extensive collection which I use for photography purposes. If you follow my photostream at all, you will know that I publish a chapter of the lives of two women set in London in the 1920s (a century ago) every Sunday. The series is entitled “Life at cavendish Mews” and revolves around the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd – a society interior designer and daughter of a viscount – and her hard working and aspiring maid, Edith. If you are interested, the series may be found here: www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/albums/72157715517132727/ Now, for those of you who don’t know, Edith is stepping out with Frank Leadbetter, the delivery boy of local grocer Walter Willison. This is his bicycle loaded up with time specific miniature groceries, ready to be delivered, resting against the advertising poster clad wall of Walter Willison’s Grocery. As this is set in 1924, I have given today’s image a sepia tone. I hope you like my choice for this week’s theme, and that it makes you smile.
Frank’s black metal delivery bicycle with its basket on the front came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom. The sign on the body of the bicycle I made myself with the aid of the brown paper bag in the front of the basket which bears the name “Walter Willison’s Tea and Grocery”. The paper bag is filled with 1920s grocery items, which along with the bag were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
Edith’s leather handbag leaning against the bicycle I acquired as part of a larger collection of 1:12 artisan miniature hats, bags and accessories I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. Her small wicker basket I acquired from an online stockist of miniatures on E-Bay.
The brooms leaning against the walls come either from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering or Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop.
The wooden boxes with their Edwardian advertising labels have been purposely aged and came from The Dolls’ House Supplier in the United Kingdom.
The advertisements along the wall of the shop, aside from the two advertising the British Empire Exhibition which I made myself, are all 1:12 size posters made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Ken is known mostly for the 1;12 miniature books he created. I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but he also produced other items, including posters. All of these are genuine copies of real Edwardian posters. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make these items miniature artisan pieces. 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 brick wall upon which they are stuck 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....
Nezih, the largest stockist of stationery and reading matter in Kadıköy. Also good for toys and artists' requisites.
N is the seventeenth letter of the Turkish alphabet and may be easily pronounced with no nuances.
panasonic lumix tz70 cost £229.99
this afternoon i used my new camera for the first time. i put it on the point and shoot automatic setting. the photo isn't sharp. i'm going to have to keep reading the manual and taking plenty of photos. i'm sure more practise is what is needed. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ...
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
tiddy a feral cat i have fed for years that lives at the end of my garden. tiddy has shelter, a bench and food. she knows she's safe
panasonic lumix tz70
this morning i experimented with my new camera on the scene setting but also used the focus lever. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ... but practise, practise, practise
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
Crazy Tuesdays - Footwear
These 'Irregular Choice' blue and red floral 'Abigail's Party' tie-up shoes belong to my daughter Haley......who just loves quirky shoes.
Irregular Choice was created by Dan Sullivan in 1999 as a reason to stand out from the crowd.
Back in the late 90's Dan saw that the footwear market was becoming very neutral and black, yet there was a global demand for something different and individual, something to wear with pride.
From embellished heels, ornate wood carvings, tiny intricate charms and lavish fabrics, to the memorable colour combinations, everybody has an Irregular Choice favourite shoe or story.
Each year Dan creates over 600 different styles, and is constantly jotting down styles, photos and sketches, it’s an ever expanding creative process reaching to what is now over 10,000 different options.
Irregular Choice has evolved with great strides over the past decade. The brand is now sold through hundreds of stockists around the world, and has nine of its own stores across the globe, with more in the pipeline.
Every Irregular Choice customer has their own favourite designs, and with such a huge collection to choose from each season there is always something to tempt every shoe addict.
The theme for “Smile on Saturday” for the 4th of June is “tiny-tiny” which requires a small object to be photographed alongside a larger object to help give the item scale. When I read the theme, I thought how perfect it was for me, and a few of my friends who also post to this group. Anyone who follows my photostream knows that I love and collect 1:12 size miniatures which I photograph in realistic scenes. The artifice of recreating in minute detail items in 1:12 scale always amazes me, and it’s amazing how the eye can be fooled. Therefore, when the theme came up, I immediately thought of some of my kitchen accessories. I settled on the idea of baking, as I had only a few days prior to the announcement of the theme received a pastry preparation board and tray of empty tart casings. I originally just had the floured board and the tray of tart casings which I photographed alongside my beloved and well used rolling pin to show the scale. Then I decided to add to it, so I have included a fluted teacup that could be used to cut the ruffled pastry casings, the flour, butter and jug of water needed to make the pastry, and some P. C. Flett & Co. jam and some Macfie’s treacle to fill the tarts with. I even included cutlery and a floral spoon rest in the shape of a teapot. The latter is less than half a centimetre in diameter to give you a clue as to how tiny-tiny these objects are! I hope you like my miniature whimsy for this week, and that it brings a smile to your face.
All these miniatures are 1:12 scale, and some are artisan pieces.
The pastry preparation board, complete with flour, cut and uncut pastry and the rolling pin come from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom, as does the accompanying tray of pastry shells. Both are artisan made pieces with amazing attention to detail.
The rather worn and beaten looking enamelled flour cannister in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green, has been aged on purpose. An artisan piece, it also comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop, as do the 1920s enamel handled spoons and knife, the floral spoon rest in the shape of a teapot, and the hand painted tray on which the butter sits.
The jug with its dainty rose pattern and gilt rim is made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The floral patterned teacup comes from an online miniatures stockist on E-Bay.
The butter is also an artisan piece that has been hand painted and printed. It comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The tin of Macfie’s Finest Black Treacleand jar of P.C. Flett and Company jam 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. Robert Andrew Macfie sugar refiner was the first person to use the term Golden Syrup in 1840, a product made by his factory, the Macfie sugar refinery, in Liverpool. He also produced black treacle. 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.
My first digital camera from around 1999. I remember going to Tottenham Court Road to get it from the only UK stockist. At the time. I think, I paid around £800 for it with all the bits I had to buy with it to process the images. Fuji MX 2900 zoom digital Camera, focal length 35-105 mm 35mm equivalent. Photographed with my latest camera which is a Leica Q2 Monochrom.
Getting ready for my latest #CrochetAlong #CAL.
Several times a year various Yarn companies will design a fun blanket and release the pattern over a 6 week period via email and video on a Facebook Group. Therefore creating a #crochetalong group.
You buy the yarn suggested in a pack prepared for the blanket and each week, one day a week, lots of crocheters get together via a Facebook group and complete part of the pattern.
This Wednesday, a new blanket starts with the company SIRDAR.
From what I know its worldwide, I will post a few links below as its not too late to get this selection of yarn and join in. I've made some lovely friends along the way from all around the world and created some lovely blankets.
Debbie ~ KissThePixel 2022
Link 1 below: SIRDAR 'Day Tripper Blanket' designed by Katie Jones website
sirdar.com/en/day-tripper-blanket-cal?utm_source=homepage...
Link 2 below: The Facebook Sirdar Make Along Group
www.facebook.com/groups/4030850326951986
All the yarn needed for this project is available from most yarn stockists and the SIRDAR website. The yarn is prepacked with the correct amount of yarn and colours needed to complete the 'Day Tripper Picnic Blanket'. It cost me 23 British pounds for the pack. You will need a 4mm crochet hook.
Jurne with the science.
Photo: Lea Bruno
www.ironlak.com/product_strikers.html
Ask for Ironlak Strikers at your local stockist.
Caston Electrode Company trades in all kinds of Special Welding Consumables in Delhi (India). Caston Electrode has been one of the largest stockists in Special Welding Electrodes, MIG wires and TIG Wires, and trading since more than 30 years. Caston Electrode Company’s product range comprises of
◦Welding Electrodes: Stainless Steel
◦Welding Electrodes: Mild Steel
◦TIG Welding Wires
◦MIG Welding Wires
◦Flux Cored Wires: Stainless Steel and Mild Steel
◦Welding Electrodes and Wires for Special Applications
Caston Electrode Company is based out of Delhi (India) and trade in various brands of welding consumables which are of global repute and approvals. Our product range can ensure complete solution for your welding needs and can improve quality of your welding processes.
Caston Electrode Company’s Product range serves most sophisticated industries ranging from Automotive, Chemical, Construction to Petrochemical, Shipping and Aeronautics. Caston Electrode Company also act in capacity of consultants for various typical welding applications, where welding expertise is required.
Delhi, Gurgaon, Faridabad, Ghaziabad, Noida, NCR, India
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 at Cavendish Mews. We have travelled east across London, through Bloomsbury, past the Smithfield Meat Markets, beyond the Petticoat Lane Markets* frequented by Lettice’s maid, Edith, through the East End boroughs of Bethnal Green and Bow, to the 1880s housing development of Upton Park. It is here that Frank’s closest and only surviving relation lives: his elderly Scottish grandmother, Mrs. McTavish. It is Christmas Day 1925, and after catching a chill going home from a celebratory meal at Lyon’s Corner House** at the top of Tottenham Court Road to celebrate Edith and Frank’s engagement, which then settled on her chest and became influenza, Mrs. McTavish, whilst recovering well, is not well enough to travel through the cold fog and sleet of Christmas Day with Frank to Frank’s fiancée, Edith’s, family home in Harlesden. It was Edith who settled on the idea of rather than Frank and Mrs. McTavish coming to her parent’s home, going with her parents, George and Ada, to them instead, after she took inspiration from a Christmas window display in the Woolworths*** outside the Premier Super Cinema**** in East Ham, where Edith and Frank had seen a midday showing of ‘A Girl of London’***** on their day off.
“There!” Edith sighs, as she settles back on her haunches and admires her work.
Before her, on Mrs. McTavish’s flagstone floor a small Christmas Tree has been set up, it’s short height compensated by standing it in one of Mrs. McTavish’s unused tall terracotta flowerpots overturned, with the thin trunk slipped through the drain hole in its bottom, carefully hidden by an apron of festive red velvet supplied by Ada from her capacious basket, where it sat beneath a succulent roast chicken that she had started cooking in her own kitchen range in Harlesden. The tree’s decoration had been Edith’s job to manage, whilst her mother busied herself finishing off the chicken in the oven of Mrs. McTavish’s range. Being rather creative, this was a pleasure for Edith to do, and she quickly unpacked the gaily decorated boxes of thruppence and sixpence Christmas decorations she had bought at Woolworths in order to decorate the tree, one George had bought as a favour from one of his gardening contacts at his Harlesden allotment. Scattering spools of thick red velveteen****** ribbon and baubles of metallic red and gold across the floor. She quickly made the bare tree into a beautiful and festive centrepiece for the day’s festivities, expertly decorating its branches, hiding sparse parts of the rather weedy tree, until it looked full and perfect.
“What do you think, Gran?” Edith asks, looking over her right shoulder to Frank’s Scottish Grandmother peers out from beneath her thick tartan rug in her usual, old and worn wingback chair by the range.
Mrs. McTavish’s wizened face, covered in a maze of wrinkles beneath the lacy white froth of her cap colours a little and her dark eyes sparkle with delight as she spies the decorated Christmas tree. “Och, Edith my dear!” she exclaims in her thick Scottish brogue. “It looks grand! What a clever we bairn you are!”
“She’s right, Edith,” Frank says with a cheerful lilt as he pauses setting the table, holding one of his grandmother’s best blue and white china plates in his hands and looks over at the decorated tree. “It looks grand!”
“Oh, thank you both.” Edith says, blushing at their compliments.
“Edith always was the one with artistic talent,” George murmurs with pride to his wife as they both stand at the kitchen range, he holding a white bowl out to catch the green peas and bright orange carrots his wife scoops from one of Mrs. McTavish’s saucepans with a slotted spoon. “I would have liked it if she’d been able to pursue her creativity.”
Ada sighs heavily as she gazes at the beautifully decorated Christmas Tree, pausing in her scooping to observe the rich and fat bows and red and gold baubles bask in the golden light cast by Mrs. McTavish’s gas light overhead, giving them an essence of Christmas magic. She coughs and clears her throat before going back to the job at hand by spooning out the last of the sliced carrots from the bottom of the pot and shaking them off the spoon into the plain white bowl her husband holds. “Being an artist doesn’t make money, George.” she says matter-of-factly, drawing her husband from his own thoughts. “What good would she be to Frank if she could paint a picture, but not know how to cook, or one end of an iron from the other.”
George doesn’t reply, his eyes darting from Ada’s face with her determined, but not unfriendly gaze and the Christmas tree.
“No, domestic service was really our only choice with Edith, and it hasn’t worked out badly, has it George? She has a good job at present with Miss Chetwynd, and she knows how to cook and clean, and she’s a damn fine seamstress.”
“She could have worked at the Lambeth Studios******* with her skill as a paintress.” George muses.
“That’s foolish talk, George.” Ada scoffs with frustration, knocking the slotted spoon’s handle noisily against the edge of the beaten old pot to drown out her words from anyone’s hearing but George’s. “You know it is. We couldn’t have afforded the fees at the Lambeth School of Art******** for her to have sent her there, and well you know it.”
“With her precocious talent,” George retorts. “I still think we stood a chance of her winning a scholarship for her, Ada love.”
“Well,” Ada quips quickly. “We’ll never know now, will we? I did what I thought was best at the time,” She then adds a little more kindly. “And it was best for her, George love. You know it was.”
George sighs as he stares at his daughter as she happily laughs and chatters with her fiancée as they arrange Christmas parcels wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine around the bottom of the tree. “I don’t know about that, Ada love.”
“Don’t let Edith hear you say that.” Ada cautions her husband, as she bangs the spoon handle against the pot determinedly again.
“Frank, I’m serving up the peas and beans for Ada,” George calls out to his future son-in-law as he moves across the kitchen floor from the range to the round table which has been dressed with one of Mrs. McTavish’s beautiful hand made white lace tablecloths. “Look lively my boy, and finish setting the table, or Ada will as likely have your guts for garters,” He chuckles good naturedly. “Or mine.”
“Aye, I will that, or both of you,” Ada laughs happily from the stove, clearly sharing that she will do no such thing, as she wraps the edge of her apron around her hand and opens the door of the oven and peers in.
A cloud of steam and the sizzle of cooking meat fills the air, as does the rich and evocative scent of the roasting chicken.
“That smells spiffing Mrs. Wat… Ada!” Frank exclaims, still stumbling over the idea of calling his future mother-in-law by her first name, rather than Mrs. Watsford.
“Thank you, Frank love.” Ada says with a proud smile as she turns and faces the room, her face flushed from the head radiating from the oven. Closing the door she adds, “Just a few more minutes and we’ll be ready to eat. I hope you’ve all brought a good, healthy appetite, most of all you, Nyree love.” She puts a hand gently on Mrs. McTavish’s shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “We need to be fattening you up. There’s no meat on your bones. No wonder you caught influenza.”
“Aha!” Frank cries from the table as he lays down the last of the dinner plates. He points across the room to his grandmother sitting snuggled in her chair as he says triumphantly, “Your own words, turned back on you for a change!” He laughs. “Gran’s always telling me I’m too thin, Ada. It’s time she had some of her own medicine for a change.”
“Och!” the old Scotswoman scoffs, before starting to cough heavily, her chest heaving up and down beneath her warm blanket. “You are too thin, Francis my bairn!” She coughs a little more, only less severely. “You eat like a wee house sparrow, you do,” she goes on through laboured breaths. “And that’s no good for a strapping young laddie!”
“Gran!” Frank moans. “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m Frank now. Francis is a girl’s name.”
“Nonsense!” she retorts, releasing another fruity cough. “It’s a splendid boy’s name. Twas the name your faither********** and mither*********** gave you and had you christened. You may want to be Frank, but,” She smiles beatifically at her grandson. “But you’ll always be Francis to me.”
“Oh Gran!” Frank says again, blushing red.
Edith giggles. “I’m glad you like the Christmas tree, Gran. I really wanted to make your Christmas a special one.” She reaches up and places her hands over the old woman’s gnarled and wrinkled ones and squeezes them affectionately.
“You have my wee bairn,” Mrs. McTavish says, withdrawing her hands from beneath Edith’s and placing them on Edith’s youthful cheeks. She smiles down at her. “You really have. How could anyone not be delighted by such kindness?” She sinks back in her seat. “You’ve all been so kind to bring the Christmas Day festivities to me.”
“Ahh,” Ada scoffs with a beatific smile and a dismissive wave of her hand as she walks the dirty pots over to the trough skin in the corner of the kitchen. “Christmas is wherever you decide to celebrate it, so why not have it here? As I was saying to Frank a week ago when he was visiting us, it would have been too much to expect you to travel all the way to us Nyree, even if it isn’t a long walk to and from the Tube************ station either way, in your condition.”
“That’s right.” Adds George. “It’s been so cold, and the fogs aren’t pleasant for you to go through either, Nyree love. Better we come to you, and you can keep nice and cosy and warm.”
“Thank you, George. “Lang may yer lum reek*************.”
“What does that mean, Gran?” Edith asks. “Long may yer lum reek?”
“Lang,” Mrs. McTavish corrects Edith gently. “Lang may yer lum reek.”
“It’s a Scottish blessing.” Frank explains. “Long may your chimney smoke. Isn’t that right, Gran?”
“It is, Francis my wee bairn!” Mrs. McTavish concurs. “It means I wish you good fortune and prosperity.”
“Lang may yer lum reek. Lang may yer lum reek.” Edith repeats over and over a few times.
“That’s it, Edith my dear.” Mrs. McTavish encourages. “Och! Francis and I will make a Scotswoman out of you yet!” She chortles happily.
“How do you say, Merry Christmas, Gran?” Edith asks. “In Scottish, I mean?”
“Nollaig Chirdheil**************.” Mrs. McTavish says in her growly Scottish brogue, smiling happily as she does.
“Oh!” Edith’s face falls. “Oh, I might struggle to say that.”
“Och! Well, you weren’t raised with Gaelic being spoken about you, Edith dearie.” Mrs. McTavish chuckles softly. “It will take some practice. However, if you apply yourself, perhaps you might be a better scholar than my wee bairn Francis was when it comes to speaking Gaelic.”
“I’ll try, Gran.” Edith says.
“Good girl!” She pats Edith’s hand. “When I’m better and get over this awful influenza, I’ll have to teach you how to make rumbledethumps***************.”
“Rumbledethumps!” Frank pipes up as he places the last brightly coloured Christmas cracker across a dinner plate at the table. “You’re going to teach Edith to make rumbledethumps?”
“Aye, cluasan mòra!” Mrs. McTavish calls out in reply to her grandson’s question.
“Cluasan mòra?” Edith asks. “What does that mean?”
“Tell your fiancée what a cluasan mòra is, then, Francis my wee bairn.” When Frank doesn’t reply, and busies himself straightening cutlery on the table that doesn’t need straightening, Mrs. McTavish goes on. “If he’d studied Gaelic like I said he should have, he’d know that cluasan mòra means ‘big ears’, Edith my dear.”
Edith can’t help but chuckle as she sees Frank blush bright red.
“Right!” Ada calls cheerily as she withdraws the golden yellow chicken from the oven. “Christmas tea is served!”
Everyone watches, transfixed as she walks across the small kitchen carrying the succulent roast bird across the table in one of her trusty roasting pans from her Harlesden kitchen. Roast potatoes, as golden and crusted as the chicken itself sit nestled around the chicken, and the whole dish releases a delicious aroma that quickly fills the small room.
“Now that smells like Christmas tea to me!” George says jovially. “I’ll open up a bottle of ale for us.”
“Come on Gran.” Frank says kindly as he scurries over to his grandmother’s side. “I’ll help you up.”
“I’ll help too, Frank.” Edith offers. “And we’ll get you safely over to the table and settled in.”
“Thanks Edith!” Frank replies, sighing gratefully.
As the pair help stand the old Scotswoman up, draw away her green and red tartan blanket and gently guide her across the flagstones, she turns her head to Edith. “So Edith, dearie. I hear from your parents and Frank, that this was all your doing.”
“Me?” Edith asks. “Oh I didn’t make the Christmas fare. Mum did, with a bit of help from Dad and me. You saw her, Gran.”
“No! No!” Mrs. McTavish hisses. “Not that. They tell me it was your idea to move your Christmas from your parent’s house here.”
“Oh, I think I might have suggested the idea in the first place, after we found out from Frank that you were sick.”
“You’re being too modest by half,” Frank retorts. “It was Edith’s idea alright, Gran. She should take credit for it.”
As Mrs. McTavish looks upon the blushing face of Edith she says, “Well, as you know, I haven’t really been well enough to finish the Christmas gift for you that I started making.”
“Oh, I don’t care about that, Gran. I don’t need anything from you, when you let us have Christmas in your home, like this.”
“Well, I will finish it, but once I’m better, Edith dearie. And then I’ll give it to you.” She groans a bit as she nears the table with Edith and Frank supporting her delicate and brittle figure. “But there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you, ever since you and Francis told me about your intended nuptials****************.”
“And what’s that, Gran?” Edith asks, as they manoeuvre Mrs, McTavish to a round back Windsor chair close by the warm range and gently lower her down into it.
“Aye. Thank you my wee bairns.” Mrs McTavish says gratefully. Turning her attention back to Edith, whilst Frank fetches her tartan blanket to drape over her knees, she says, “Edith dearie, would you do me the honour of letting me make your wedding veil? I’d rather like to, you know.”
“Oh Gran!” Edith exclaims, flinging her arms around Mrs. McTavish’s neck and hugging her tightly.
“I’ll take that as a yes, shall I then, Edith dearie?” the old woman laughs.
“Oh yes! Yes Gran!” Edith says in a muffled voice filled with elation as she buries her head into Mrs. McTavih’s neck. “Yes.”
“Good!” Mrs. McTavish says matter-of-factly, grasping Edith my the forearms, causing the young girl to release her embrace and take a step back. “That makes me very happy, Edith dearie.”
“Merry Christmas Gran.” Edith manages to say as she swallows her emotions and tries to remain composed in front of her fiancée and family.
“Nollaig Chirdheil, Edith dearie.” Old Mrs. McTavish replies kindly, a broad smile breaking across her face.
*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.
**J. Lyons and Co. was a British restaurant chain, food manufacturing, and hotel conglomerate founded in 1884 by Joseph Lyons and his brothers in law, Isidore and Montague Gluckstein. Lyons’ first teashop opened in Piccadilly in 1894, and from 1909 they developed into a chain of teashops, with the firm becoming a staple of the High Street in the United Kingdom. At its peak the chain numbered around two hundred cafes. The teashops provided for tea and coffee, with food choices consisting of hot dishes and sweets, cold dishes and sweets, and buns, cakes and rolls. Lyons\' Corner Houses, which first appeared in 1909 and remained until 1977, were noted for their Art Deco style. Situated on or near the corners of Coventry Street, Strand and Tottenham Court Road, they and the Maison Lyonses at Marble Arch and in Shaftesbury Avenue were large buildings on four or five floors, the ground floor of which was a food hall with counters for delicatessen, sweets and chocolates, cakes, fruit, flowers and other products. In addition, they possessed hairdressing salons, telephone booths, theatre booking agencies and at one period a twice-a-day food delivery service. On the other floors were several restaurants, each with a different theme and all with their own musicians. For a time, the Corner Houses were open twenty-four hours a day, and at their peak each branch employed around four hundred staff including their famous waitresses, commonly known as Nippies for the way they nipped in and out between the tables taking orders and serving meals. The tea houses featured window displays, and, in the post-war period, the Corner Houses were smarter and grander than the local tea shops. Between 1896 and 1965 Lyons owned the Trocadero, which was similar in size and style to the Corner Houses.
***Woolworths began operation in Britain in 1909 when Frank Woolworth opened the first store in Liverpool, as a British subsidiary of the already established American company. The store initially sold a variety of goods for threepence and sixpence, making their goods accessible to everyone, not just the wealthy upper and middle-classes. The British subsidiary proved to be very popular, and it grew quickly, opening twelve stores by 1912 and expanding using its own profits to become a fixture on the high street. The stores became a beloved British institution, with many shoppers assuming they were originally a British company. In 1982, the United Kingdom operations underwent a management buyout from the American parent company, becoming Woolworth Holdings PLC. This followed the American parent company\'s sale of its controlling stake to a local consortium. Later, in 2000, the company\'s parent (by then known as Kingfisher Group) decided to restructure, focusing more on its DIY and electrical markets. The general merchandise division, including Big W stores, was spun off into a separate company called Woolworths in 2001. Unable to adapt to modern retail trends, the company faced increasing competition and financial difficulties. The last Woolworths stores in the United Kingdom closed their doors in December 2008 and January 2009, marking the end of an era.
****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.
*****‘A Girl of London’ is a 1925 British silent drama film produced by Stoll Pictures, directed by Henry Edwards and starring Genevieve Townsend, Ian Hunter and Nora Swinburne. Its plot concerns the son of a member of parliament, who is disowned by his father when he marries a girl who works in a factory. Meanwhile, he tries to rescue his new wife from her stepfather who operates a drugs den. It was based on a novel by Douglas Walshe.
******Velveteen is a woven fabric with a short, dense pile that resembles velvet but is stiffer and has a matte finish. It is typically made of cotton or a cotton blend and is created by weaving loops that are then cut to create the soft, raised surface. Due to its durability and structure, it is used for garments that need to hold their shape, such as jackets and skirts, as well as for home décor like upholstery and draperies.
*******The first Royal Doulton pottery in Lambeth, London, opened in 1815. It started as a partnership between John Doulton, Martha Jones, and John Watts, specialising in utilitarian stoneware like pipes and jars. The company moved to larger premises in Lambeth Walk in 1826, trading as Doulton & Watts. The factory\'s production evolved over time, and in 1871, the famous Doulton Lambeth Studio was established. It became known for its beautiful art pottery, employing artists from the local Lambeth School of Art. The Lambeth Pottery employed over two hundred artists and designers from the Art School by the 1880s, many of them women. The original Lambeth factory finally closed in 1956 due to clean air regulations in the City of London, which prohibited salt glaze production.
********The Lambeth School of Art was an art school established in 1854 in the Lambeth area of London by William Gregory, the vicar of St Mary the Less Church. Now known as the City and Guilds of London Art School, it is now a leading independent art school in London. The school is also associated with the "Lambeth Method" of cake decorating, a style of elaborate buttercream piping known for its regal and intricate designs, famously used on the wedding cake of Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.
*********The phrase "guts for garters" means to punish someone severely or to threaten them with extreme violence. Its origin is the literal, and now obsolete, threat of disembowelling a person and using their intestines as garters to hold up one\'s stockings. This phrase is first recorded in late Sixteenth Century literature and gained popularity through alliteration and usage in various contexts, from military slang to a more general expression of anger.
**********Faither is an old fashioned Scottish word for father.
***********Mither is an old fashioned Scottish word for mother.
************People started calling the London Underground the "Tube" around 1900, after the opening of the Central London Railway. The railway\'s deep, cylindrical tunnels resembled tubes, and a newspaper nickname for it, the “Tuppenny Tube”, due to a flat fare of two pence, helped the term stick. Over time, the nickname spread to refer to the entire system.
*************A classic Scottish blessing for good luck is "Lang may yer lum reek," which literally means "long may your chimney smoke" and conveys the wish for continued prosperity and good fortune.
**************”Nollaig Chirdheil” is the traditional festive greeting in Gaelic shared at Christmas time.
***************Rumbledethumps is a dish that is popular in the Scottish border regions and is perfect for using up leftover mashed potatoes and excess vegetables. Often referred to as the Scottish version of bubble ‘n squeak, rumbledethumps recipes usually contain turnip and cabbage, but really any vegetable leftovers could be used. The vegetable mixture is topped with cheese and then baked until bubbling. The dish can be made the day before and heated up and whilst it can be eaten on its own, makes a nice accompaniment for a hearty stew.
****************Nuptials is a alternative word for marriage. The term “nuptials” emphasizes the ceremonial and legal aspects of a marriage, lending a more formal tone to wedding communications and documentation.
This festive scene in a cosy kitchen may look real to you, but it is not quite what it seems, for it is made up entirely of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The Christmas tree at the centre of the image is a hand-made artisan example from dollhouse artisan suppliers in America. The parcels wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine beneath the tree I acquired from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The boxed tinsel garland and the tree top angel box were a gift to me last Christmas from my Flickr friend BKHagar *Kim* who also collects 1:12 miniatures. She picked these up at a house auction as part of a large miniatures collection. The red box containing hand painted Christmas ornaments were hand made and decorated by artists of Crooked Mile Cottage in America. The patterned green box of red and green baubles at the front of Ada’s basket to the right was hand made by Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The box of Christmas crackers towards the bottom of the picture and the Christmas cards on the table to the left of the image are 1:12 miniatures made by artisan Ken Blythe. I have a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my miniatures collection – books mostly. 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! Sadly, 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. As well as making books, he also made other small paper based miniatures including cards like the Christmas cards, and boxes of goods. The box, as you can see, is designed to be opened, and each one contains gaily coloured Christmas crackers made from real crêpe paper. The crackers from the box, coloured red, yellow and blue, can be seen sitting on the table. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make them all miniature artisan pieces. 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 round kitchen table is draped with an antique lace jug cover, which I thought made for a beautiful tablecloth for Christmas. As well as Ken Blythe’s Christmas crackers, there are other things of the table. These include beautiful blue and white dinner plates which come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom. The succulent looking roast chicken comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. The cutlery also comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. All the water glasses I have had since I was a teenager. I bought them from a high street stockist that specialised in dolls’ houses and doll house miniatures. Each glass is hand blown using real glass.
Mrs. McTavish’s intentionally worn leather wingback chair and the sewing table to the left of the photo are both 1:12 artisan miniatures. The inside of the sewing table is particularly well made and detailed with a removable tray made up of multiple compartments. Beneath it, the floral fabric lines the underside and opens up into a central bag. Both pieces come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop. The top comparts are full of sewing items which also came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop and various online specialists on E-Bay. The small, round pedestal table at the arm of Mrs. McTavish’s chair also comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop
The sewing basket that you can see on the floor beneath the sewing table I bought from a high street shop that specialised in dolls and doll house furnishings. It is an artisan miniature and contains pieces of embroidery and embroidery threads. Also inserted into it is an embroidery hoop that has been which embroidered by hand which came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.
Dominating the rear of the room is the large kitchen range which is a 1:12 miniature replica of the coal fed Phoenix Kitchen Range. A mid-Victorian model, it has hinged opening doors, hanging bars above the stove and a little bass hot water tap (used in the days before plumbed hot water). The fringing hanging from the mantle is actually a beautiful scalloped ribbon that was given to me at Christmas time by a very close friend of mine.
On the small pedestal table next to Mrs. McTavish’s chair sits a blue and white teacup and saucer. It comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom, and so too does the table.
On the wall just behind Mrs. McTavish’s chair hangs a hand painted cuckoo clock. It has been made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.
In the background you can see Mrs. McTavish’s dark wood dresser cluttered with decorative china. I have had the dresser since I was a child. The shelves of the dresser have different patterned crockery which have come from different miniature stockists both in Australia and the United Kingdom.
The brass pieces on the range all come from different online stockists of miniatures.
The rug on the floor comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.
My Website : Twitter : Facebook : Instagram : Photocrowd
I'm not sure if Fortnum and Mason usually turn the front facade of the store on Piccadilly into a giant Advent Calendar but this, along with the shop windows themselves (photos to follow) meant for me they won Christmas.
Click here for more Christmas shots : www.flickr.com/photos/darrellg/albums/72157639060428214
From Wikipedia, "Fortnum & Mason (colloquially often shortened to just Fortnum's) is an upmarket department store in Piccadilly, London, with additional stores at The Royal Exchange, St Pancras railway station, Heathrow Airport in London and K11 Musea In Hong Kong, as well as various stockists worldwide. Its headquarters are located at 181 Piccadilly, where it was established in 1707 by William Fortnum and Hugh Mason. Today, it is privately owned by Wittington Investments Limited.
Founded as a grocery store, Fortnum's reputation was built on supplying quality food, and saw rapid growth throughout the Victorian era. Though Fortnum's developed into a department store, it continues to focus on stocking a variety of exotic, speciality and also 'basic' provisions.
The store has since opened several other departments, such as the gentlemen's department on the first floor. It also contains a tea shop and several restaurants. "
© D.Godliman
arch and pergola beginning to be covered with white flowered jasmine. it could take some time :)
panasonic lumix tz70
this evening i experimented with my new camera on the point and shoot automatic setting but also used the focus lever. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ... but practise, practise, practise
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
Daniel Jones & Sons agricultural engineers, Hafod Villa Garage, Gorsgoch, Ceredigion.
Date taken: 8th May 2022.
Location: Gorsgoch, Ceredigion, UK.
Album: Petrol Stations and Garages
These Nature Owls are off to a new stockists in France.
blogged New Stockist - Atelier Charivari (France)
Nature Owls copyright Flying Star Toys 2008
Available at all good stockists for Christmas is "Patchwork Barbie". Hopefully awaiting a slot at a paintshop is Wright Solar bodied Scania 65722 - SN54KFE in a multitude of different coloured panels.
It's an exciting day in the village, for today a new Queen will be crowned. All over the globe across every part of the British Empire there will be celebrations being held, including in the village. Here a Coronation Afternoon Tea is being held and everyone has pitched in to help make it as celebratory as possible.
Mrs. Gough who runs the high street haberdashers has decked the street out with Union Jack bunting. Miss Vine the postmistress has created some very patriotic cupcakes with Union Jacks made out of royal icing. Mr. Tavistock the grocer, has baked a cherry bakewell tart. Miss Kitty Arundel of "The Oaks" has made some whimsical fairy cupcakes decorated with coloured marzipan flowers and sprinkles. Mr. Jervis from "Knollys Farm" has used fresh produce from his farm to make ham, cheese, tomato, lettuce and tomato sandwich triangles. Old Gladys Hawarden, the Major's widow, has dusted off her beautiful crystal and made a delectable trifle. Mrs. Snowdon's daughter, Daisy has excelled herself with her home economics skills learned at school and has created a light and fluffy sponge that looks almost too good to eat... almost. Mr. Berry of "Apple Tree Farm" has kindly supplied orange juice and creamy fresh milk. Mrs. Ponsonby from "Willow Cottage" has gone through every cupboard she has to find teapots, milk jugs, sugar bowls and teacups, all not seen before the war, to help make endless cups of tea. Retired railway master Mr. Hemsley has brightened the table with a selection of his white roses in a fitting regal cranberry glass vase. And to keep the children occupied and amused for the afternoon, Miss Mainwaring the schoolmistress has acquired Coronation colouring books and pencils from London.
Now everyone can celebrate the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II and user in the new Elizabethan Age in true style.
2022 marks the year that Her Majesty The Queen will become the first British Monarch to celebrate a Platinum Jubilee after 70 years of devoted and loyal service to her people.
Celebrations will be happening in Britain and around the world during the Platinum Jubilee Central Weekend which takes place from 2nd to 5th June.
I thought I would add to the celebrations with my own Coronation 1952 Afternoon Tea harking back to when The Queen was first crowned, made up completely with pieces from my miniatures collection.
God bless our Queen! Long may she reign over us!
Fun things to look for in this tableau:
The Coronation Colouring Book 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. This colouring book has pages inside that feature images that could be coloured. To give you an idea of the work that has gone into this volume, it contains twelve double sided pages of illustrations and it measures thirty-three millimetres in height and twenty millimetres in width. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books 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. I hope that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!
The coloured pencils on the table are 1:12 miniatures as well, and is only one millimetre wide and two centimetres long.
The Union Jack cupcakes, flower cupcakes, cherry bakewell tart, tray of sandwiches and trifle are all artisan pieces that have 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.
The lemon sponge is also an artisan piece made by Karen Ladybug Miniatures in England.
Made by French ceramicist and miniature artisan Valerie Casson, the Dolly Varden teapot, Peter Rabbit in a watering can teapot and the goose jug are all authentic 1:12 miniatures of real ceramic pieces.
The cranberry glass vase was issued by Glasscraft for The Queen's Golden Jubilee. It is made from real cranberry glass, is hand blown, etched with a portrait of the Queen in profile and hand gilded around the rim.
The white roses in the vase, and the jugs of orange juice and milk all come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The jugs are made of hand blown glass.
The different crockery comes from various miniature stockists on E-Bay.
panasonic lumix tz70 cost £229.99
this afternoon i used my new camera for the first time. i put it on the point and shoot automatic setting. the photo isn't sharp. i'm going to have to keep reading the manual and taking plenty of photos. i'm sure more practise is what is needed. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ...
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
David Corke's Cyprus fleet information tells us that the Girne American University in Kyrenia, Northern Cyprus, acquired at least three Leyland National 2 buses from Ayrways of Ayr for student transport, where they joined a dozen or so former First Group Mercedes mini buses. HB126 has received a windscreen modification (presumably the local screen stockist saw no reason to keep "Leyland National 2, left and right" screens in stock!) The bus seems also to have disgraced itself, judging by the tow bar still attached. Kyrenia, October 2005.
I've introduced a variation on the classic Biscuit Bunny by using specially chosen designer fabrics on their cloud brushing ears. Now there are so many new friends to collect!
Most these little friends are now available from a new Flying Star Toys stockist, The Servo (78 Latrobe Tce, Paddington, Brisbane). The rest will be peeking out from ceramic bowls on my stand at the Umbrella Collective Christmas show.
Wickham Place is the London home of Lord and Lady Southgate, their children and staff. Located in fashionable Belgravia it is a fine Georgian terrace house.
Today, we are in the true preserve of Lady Southgate in Wickham Place, the one room that she has complete control over – the morning room. It is a large, yet comfortable and cosy room decorated with glittering Edwardian clutter - china and other bibelots - and floral soft furnishings of her choosing and is truly a feminine space. It’s the perfect place for arranging flowers, and that is what we find Lady Southgate doing, accompanied most unwillingly by her sister-in-law, Cecily.
“Nancy was very complimentary about the flower arrangements at the ambassador’s dinner we held.” Lady Southgate remarks as she peruses blooms for suitability from a basket full of flowers on the table before her.
“Who?” Cecily asks, not looking up from the newspaper with which she has ensconced herself comfortably into Lady Southgate’s floral settee.
“Oh Cecily!” Lady Southgate scoffs. “Nancy: Lady Astor!”
“Well bully for her.” Cecily replies absently and without interest. “They were your doing, not mine.”
“Cecily, I don’t see why you have to be so peevish about flower arranging,” Lady Southgate quips over her shoulder as she takes out a purple and lilac foxglove bloom and trims the stem with her shears. “It’s a very relaxing pursuit.”
“Vera, wouldn’t you rather read those newspapers you are using to protect the tabletop, than resign them to the bin where they are going?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with flower arranging, Cecily.” Lady Southgate replies testily. “Anyway, these are old newspapers that would have been used by the housemaids to start the fire in here if I hadn’t used them for this.” She takes another foxglove from the basket and trims the stem. “And I’ll have you know that I do read the newspaper. Withers brings me ‘The Mirror’ every morning.”
“I don’t mean read the society pages, or scan them for the latest bargains at Selfridges, Vera!” Cecily looks up through her glasses perched on her nose and over the top of the ‘Daily Express’ she has open before her. “I’m taking about reading about things that matter!”
“Such as?”
Cecily lets the paper fall and continues animatedly, “Like the opening of the first British labour exchange*, or the new government in Greece**, or the first night time flight in England***.”
“And why should I care about any of that?” Lady Southgate mutters. “As if the new government in Greece has any influence on my life, or as if I need to worry about a labour exchange! Preposterous!” She snorts.
“Any more than I need to worry about flower arranging, Vera.” Cecily sinks back onto the settee and raises the broadsheet which she ruffles noisily, bristling with irritation at her sister-in-law’s flippant comments.
“Well, you should care about flower arranging, Cecily!” Lady Southgate reaches for a delicate fluted cranberry glass vase with gilding around its mouth. “Any girl of your age, and in your position,” She turns and waves her shears admonishingly at Cecily’s recumbent figure. “Should care about it!”
“I care a great deal more about the suffragette movement than flower arranging.” Cecily mutters.
“Yes, well I know your opinions on that,” Lady Southgate puts one of the foxgloves into the vase. “I found that copy ‘Votes for Women’ in your parlour the other week.”
“Ah, so you do read then, Vera!” Cecily clucks triumphantly.
“I said I found it, not that I read it, Cecily.” Lady Southgate replies, thrusting a second foxglove bloom with unnecessary force into the vase. “You shouldn’t be meddling with women’s suffrage. You are a debutante now. This will be your sec…”
“I know, Vera, my second Season,” Cecily groans as her eyes rise to the ornate crystal chandelier overhead. “You don’t need to remind me.”
“Well then, you need to make yourself more.. more,”
“Desirable?”
“Decorous!” Lady Southgate responds quickly, snapping the stem of a daffodil in frustration at her sister-in-law’s obstinance. “Or else we shall have to book you a berth on the next P&O and pack you off to India to find a suitable husband. A jeune fille à marier won’t survive her third London Season without a suitable match.”
“And arranging tulips, roses and daffodils will help me find the husband I’m told I should have?”
“Flower arranging is an art, Cecily, like embroidery, music and singing.”
“Best book me a passage to India then, Vera, as I fail on all of those, except embroidery.” She closes the newspaper, folds it in half and places it in defeat across her lap. She sighs. “And as Mamma points out, I make up in unnecessary intelligence what I lack in necessary beauty.”
“Oh pooh!” Lady Southgate artfully teases the foxglove blooms into place in the fluted glass vase. “Ignore Lydia, Cecily. Everyone pales against her legendary beauty, which she wears like the peeress’ robes she is no longer entitled to!”
“At least I will find more adventure in India than in a London season,” Cecily mutters quietly to herself.
“There!” Lady Southgate sighs as she stands back and looks proudly at the vases of flowers she has filled with roses, tulips and foxgloves. “See how satisfying the results of arranging flowers can be.”
“Yes Vera,” Cecily replies noncommittally as she raises the newspaper again.
*The first British labour exchange opened on the first of February 1910.
**The Dragoumis government was formed in Greece on the first of February 1910.
***The first night air flight by Claude Grahame-White happened in England on the twenty-eighth of April 1910.
The theme for “Smile on Saturday” this week is “vase”. I have many lovely antique vases that I could photograph, so I picked these ten. However, this Edwardian upper-class domestic scene is actually made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection. I hope that you like it.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
The four glass vases: two cranberry glass and two clear glass, were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in England. The detail in each vase is especially fine. If you look closely, you will see that they are decorated with fluting, frills and latticework. The porcelain vase on the far right with a pink rose painted on it is a 1950s Limoges vase. The rose has been painted on it by hand, and it is stamped with a small green Limoges mark to the bottom. This treasure I found in an overcrowded cabinet at the Mill Markets in Geelong. The other porcelain vases with printed flowers on them come from various online miniature stockists on EBay.
The red roses on the left of the photo and the yellow and cream roses on the right-hand side are all handmade by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in England. The tulips, daffodils and foxgloves are all very realistic looking. Made of polymer clay they are moulded on wires to allow them to be shaped at will and put into individually formed floral arrangements. They are made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany.
The shears with black handles open and close. Made of metal, they came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom.
The Edwardian British newspapers that the vases, shears and flowers stand on are 1:12 size copies of ‘The Mirror’, the ‘Daily Express’ and ‘The Tattler’ made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
Laces are back! Great news for the traditionalists like me. Old style with modern mtb two-bolt cleats. Beautifully made and really comfortable and, because they're leather, they mould into your foot shape after a while. Overshoes fit easier as there's no buckles to pull over. They also make a Race model with smooth soles that takes the modern 3-bolt racing cleat and you can also buy traditional cleats from stockists that lets you use them with pedals and toeclips. A downside is your socks soon match the red interior and stiching. The red dye inside is very unstable and you end up with red feet after a few miles!
Es ist wohl eines der letzten Fachgeschäfte für Schirme, die es überhaupt noch gibt. Schirme Brigitte am Schwedenplatz in Wien existiert dort seit 1910 und hoffentlich noch weitere 100 Jahre. An mir soll's nicht liegen. Denn bei Schirme Brigitte gibt es eine gute Auswahl an qualitativ erstklassigen Schirmen in allen relevanten Größen. Und man nimmt dort auch Schirme zur Reparatur entgegen, die sich fast immer auszahlt. Bei den durch den Klimawandel bedingten, zunehmend häufigeren und intensiveren Stürmen gewinnt das Thema Reparatur leider zusehends an Bedeutung. Dann ist man als in der Nähe wohnender Wiener, Niederösterreicher oder Burgenländer bei www.schirmebrigitte.at/ in Wien an der richtigen Adresse !
It is probably one of the last specialist shops for umbrellas that still exist. Schirme Brigitte on Schwedenplatz in Vienna has been there since 1910 and hopefully will be for another 100 years. I won't stand in the way. Because at Schirme Brigitte there is a good selection of first-class quality umbrellas in all relevant sizes. And they also accept umbrellas for repair, which almost always pays off. With the increasingly frequent and intense storms caused by climate change, the issue of repairs is unfortunately becoming more and more important. If you live nearby in Vienna, Lower Austria or Burgenland, then www.schirmebrigitte.at/ in Vienna is the right address for you !
either side of the cat was meant to be a pair of lilies. the slugs feasted as the crowns peeped through the soil. next year i'll try growing them in pots :)
panasonic lumix tz70
this afternoon i continued to experiment with my new camera. i used the scene and macro settings together with the focus lever. it's a lovely camera to hold and the weight all ok ... but practise, practise, practise
i had been waiting for a panasonic lumix tz90 but there is a global shortage of point and shoot cameras petapixel.com/2021/10/15/the-camera-industry-is-trapped-d... i was on various waiting lists but no stockist had any idea when it would be available. a panasonic lumix tz70 was in stock last week www.lcegroup.co.uk/New-Equipment-Home/ i bought it rather than have a possible prolonged frustrating wait for the tz90
for many years my garden was a shrubbery flic.kr/p/Lhv9ag which i loved. a picket fence covered in an ivy hedge coming down in a storm meant that over time changes had to happen flic.kr/p/2mn2x8a i'll be glad when the trellis is covered in honeysuckle and jasmine. that's the plan ...
www.flickr.com/groups/gardening_is_my_hobby/ helpful for ideas. thank you for sharing
Anyone who follows my photostream knows that I love and collect 1:12 size miniatures which I photograph in realistic scenes. The artifice of recreating in minute detail items in 1:12 scale always amazes me, and it’s amazing how the eye can be fooled. Part of that artifice requires making sure that everything is in place as if the inhabitants of a room have just stepped out and will return at any moment, and I often spend far more time setting things up and adjusting the position of items, sometime by millimetres, to make it just right.
As well as photographing the miniature room as a whole, I sometimes photograph individual items within the tableau. On occasion it is so I know what is set where in a room if I decide to recreate it later, but more often than not it’s because I think the miniature artisan item deserves its own focus, be it a hand made hat, a hand painted teapot or a realistic biscuit tin containing biscuits.
The theme for “Smile on Saturday” for the 20th of November is “collage”, and whilst I have toyed and made a few different collages, I decided to use this one, to show some of the finer details that go into making a scene realistic. I hope that you like my choice for the theme this week, and that it makes you smile.
The details I have displayed around the main photograph are from top left to top right in an anti-clockwise direction:
A black dyed straw hat with purple roses and black feathers, which was made by an unknown artisan. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. This hat is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel.
The shelves of the Welsh dresser in the background are cluttered with different patterned crockery which have come from different miniature stockists both in Australia and the United Kingdom. There are also some rather worn and beaten looking enamelled cannisters and a bread tin in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green. Aged on purpose, these artisan pieces I recently acquired from The Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom. There are also tins of various foods which would have been household staples in the 1920s (when this scene is set) when canning and preservation revolutinised domestic cookery. Amongst other foods on the dresser are a jar of Marmite and some Oxo stock cubes. All these items 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. Marmite is a food spread made from yeast extract which although considered remarkably English, was in fact invented by German scientist Justus von Liebig although it was originally made in the United Kingdom. It is a by-product of beer brewing and is currently produced by British company Unilever. The product is notable as a vegan source of B vitamins, including supplemental vitamin B. Marmite is a sticky, dark brown paste with a distinctive, salty, powerful flavour. This distinctive taste is represented in the marketing slogan: "Love it or hate it." Such is its prominence in British popular culture that the product's name is often used as a metaphor for something that is an acquired taste or tends to polarise opinion. Oxo is a brand of food products, including stock cubes, herbs and spices, dried gravy, and yeast extract. The original product was the beef stock cube, and the company now also markets chicken and other flavour cubes, including versions with Chinese and Indian spices. The cubes are broken up and used as flavouring in meals or gravy or dissolved into boiling water to produce a bouillon. Oxo produced their first cubes in 1910 and further increased Oxo's popularity.
Sitting on the table in the foreground of the main photo is a McVitie and Price’s Small Petite Beurre Biscuits tin, containing a selection of different biscuits. The biscuits were made by hand of polymer 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. 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.
In the foreground on the table there are several packets of Edwardian cleaning and laundry brands that were in common use in the early Twentieth Century in every household, rich or poor. These are Sunlight Soap, Robin’s Starch, Jumbo Blue and Imp Washer Soap. All these packets were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Sunlight Soap was first introduced in 1884 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. Before the invention of aerosol spray starch, the product of choice in many homes of all classes was Robin starch. Robin Starch was a stiff white powder like cornflour to which water had to be added. When you made up the solution, it was gloopy, sticky with powdery lumps, just like wallpaper paste or grout. The garment was immersed evenly in that mixture and then it had to be smoothed out. All the stubborn starchy lumps had to be dissolved until they were eliminated – a metal spoon was good for bashing at the lumps to break them down. Robins Starch was produced by Reckitt and Sons who were a leading British manufacturer of household products, notably starch, black lead, laundry blue, and household polish. They also produced Jumbo Blue, which was a whitener added to a wash to help delay the yellowing effect of older cotton. Rekitt and Sons were based in Kingston upon Hull. Isaac Reckitt began business in Hull in 1840, and his business became a private company Isaac Reckitt and Sons in 1879, and a public company in 1888. The company expanded through the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries. It merged with a major competitor in the starch market J. and J. Colman in 1938 to form Reckitt and Colman.
Sitting atop a stack of neatly folded 1:12 size linens sits a wicker sewing basket. Sitting open it has needles stuck into the padded lid, whilst inside it are a tape measure, knitting needles, balls of wool, reels of cotton and a pair of shears. All the items and the basket, except for the shears, are hand made by Mrs. Denton of Muffin Lodge in the United Kingdom. The taupe knitting on the two long pins that serve as knitting needles is properly knitted and cast on. The shears with black handles in the basket open and close. Made of metal, they came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom. The blue cotton reel and silver sewing scissors come from an E-Bay stockist of miniatures based in the United Kingdom.
In the foreground on the table there is a packet of Edwardian soap that was in common use in the early Twentieth Century in every household, rich or poor. This is Imp Washer Soap. The packet was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Imp Washer Soap was manufactured by T. H. Harris and Sons Limited, a soap manufacturers, tallow melters and bone boiler. Introduced after the Great War, Imp Washer Soap was a cheaper alternative to the more popular brands like Sunlight, Hudsons and Lifebuoy soaps. Imp Washer Soap was advertised as a free lathering and economical cleaner. T. H. Harris and Sons Limited also sold Mazo soap energiser which purported to improve the quality of cleaning power of existing soaps.
Sitting on the large kitchen range in the background is a 1:12 miniature replica of a copper kettle and a steel iron. The kettle’s lid may be removed.
Sitting on the table is a cottage ware teapot. Made by French ceramicist and miniature artisan Valerie Casson, it 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.
Wickham Place is the London home of Lord and Lady Southgate, their children and staff. Located in fashionable Belgravia it is a fine Georgian terrace house.
Today we are below stairs in the Wickham Place kitchen. The Wickham Place kitchens are situated on the ground floor of Wickham Place, adjoining the Butler’s Pantry. It is dominated by big black leaded range, and next to it stands a heavy dark wood dresser that has been there for as long as anyone can remember. In the middle of the kitchen stands Cook’s preserve, the pine deal table on which she does most of her preparation for both the meals served to the family upstairs and those for the downstairs staff. And here we are before the range at the pine deal table where Mrs. Bradley the Cook is going to give her scullery maid another cooking lesson by having her prepare vegetable consommé for the second course for the upstairs dinner this evening.
“Agnes. Agnes.”
“Yes, Mrs. Bradley?” Agnes scurries over from the sink.
“I think you’ve earned the right for another cooking lesson.”
“Oh! Oh really Mrs. Bradley! Your famous soufflé?”
“Heavens girl!” the older woman cries, throwing her careworn hands in the air. “Do you really think me a loon? I’ve told you before. You need to learn the basics of plain cooking before I can teach you anything fancy. And a clear consommé of vegetables will be fancy enough for you.”
“That sounds very fancy Mrs. Bradley.”
“That’s because them who eat upstairs,” she raises her eyes to the ceiling. “Like their fancy names for their finely cut vegetable soup.”
“Vegetable soup, Mrs. Bradley?” Agnes’ shoulders slump.
“Now! Now! Buck up my girl!” the Cook says as she steps towards her enormous range to stir a pot over the flame with her wooden spoon. “Don’t think of it as vegetable soup. Think of it as,” She flourishes her spoon through the air. “Consommé.”
Agnes goes to the pine deal dresser on the left hand side of the range an takes out the big copper stock pot and under Mrs. Bradley’s instruction, fetches carrots, parsnips, potatoes, onions, leek, a clove of garlic and thinking it might also go in, a radish.
“Did I say a radish, girl?”
“No Mrs. Bradley.”
“No radish in vegetable consommé, Agnes.”
“But it’s a vegetable, Mrs. Bradley.”
“So’s an artichoke, but you aren’t putting that into it either girl!”
“No Mrs. Bradley.” Agnes says with an apologetic tone.
“Now, get chopping girl! Small pieces mind. We don’t want upstairs choking on big chunks of potato, now do we?”
“No, Mrs. Bradley.”
The theme for the 11th of September “Looking Close… on Friday” is “vegetables”. This tableaux is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood like the ladderback chair and the teapot on the dresser in the background. 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 tableaux include:
All the vegetables and garlic clove seen on Cook’s deal table are artisan miniatures from a specialist stockist of food stuffs from Kettering in England, as are the onions hanging to the right of the range. He has a dizzying array of meals which is always growing, and all are made entirely or put together by hand, so each item is individual.
The kitchen knife with its inlaid handle and sharpened blade comes from English miniatures specialist Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniature store.
The copper stock pot, the copper pan and the pots on the range in the background are all made of real copper and come from various miniature stockists in England and America.
In front of stock pot containing carrots and parsnips is one of Cook’s Cornishware white and blue striped bowls. One of her Cornishware cannisters stands to the left of the pot. Cornishware is a striped kitchenware brand trademarked to and manufactured by T.G. Green & Co Ltd. Originally introduced in the 1920s and manufactured in Church Gresley, Derbyshire, it was a huge success for the company and in the succeeding 30 years it was exported around the world. The company ceased production in June 2007 when the factory closed under the ownership of parent company, The Tableshop Group. The range was revived in 2009 after T.G. Green was bought by a trio of British investors.
To the right of the stock pot and Cornishware bowl stands a silver Art Nouveau cup which is a dolls’ house miniature from Germany, made in the first decade of the Twentieth Century. It is a beautiful work of art as a stand alone item and is remarkably heavy.
The jars of herbs are also 1:12 miniatures, made of real glass with real cork stoppers in them.
The large kitchen range in the background is a 1:12 miniature replica of the coal fed Phoenix Kitchen Range. A mid-Victorian model, it has hinged opening doors, hanging bars above the stove and a little bass hot water tap (used in the days before plumbed hot water).
Shirley 4 Seater (Mk,II) (1960-c.63) Engine 1172 Ford S4
Registration Number CSJ 793 (Dumfriesshire)
Shirley Sportscars of Monkspath Garage Ltd., Stratford Road, Shirley, Warwks, came about via the Kenmar, which was originally designed by Ken Mugleton. Weyjer je actually marketed any of the cars is a matter of conjecture, but by 1958 Monkspath Garage became the sole distribuitor of the Kenmar shell. Available as a kit to fit a Ford chassis it was available as a 2 or 4 seater, originally priced at £ 89 for the six piece shell - bonnet, scuttle, two doors, tail section and the boot lid., a fold flat windscreen was available as a £ 11-10s (£11-50) option. the four seater was made by cutting out the section behind the front seats stopping at the rear bulkhead, though it was also avail;able ex-works. Other options included a Hardtop (£35) but only for the four seater, a Ford boxed chassis (£26) and a 12 gallon fuel tank (2-5s)
From January 1959 the shell was now being called "The Shirley" and from January 1960 the Shirley Mk2 with a re-designed front was available.
Monkspath Garage went on to become stockist of a wide range of specialist bodies, including Falcon, Rochdale and Hamblin. Also Ford Ten and Austin Seven speed equipment by Speedex, Aquaplane, LMB and Super Accessories
Diolch am 76,752,189 o olygfeydd anhygoel, mae pob un yn cael ei werthfawrogi'n fawr.
Thanks for 76,752,189 amazing views, every one is greatly appreciated.
Shot 08..09.2019 at Atherstone Classic Car Show, Atherstone, Warwks 143-763
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 at Glynes, 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 and his wife, Arabella. Lettice has been summoned to her old family home after an abrupt morning telephone call from her father, following the publication of an article in the publication, Country Life* featuring her interior designs for friends Margot and Dickie Channon’s Cornwall Regency country house ‘Chi an Treth’.
As Lettice elegantly alighted from the London train at Glynes village railway station, there on the platform amid the dissipating steam of the departing train and the smattering of visitors or return travellers to the village, stood Harris, the Chetwynd’s family chauffer. Dressed in his smart grey uniform, he took Lettice’s portmanteau, hastily packed in London by Edith her maid, and umbrella and walked out through the station’s small waiting room and booking office, leading Lettice to where the Chetwynd’s 1912 Daimler awaited her on the village’s main thoroughfare. As they drove through the centre of the village, Harris told Lettice through the glass partition from the front seat, that her article in Country Life* had caused quite a sensation below stairs. Quietly, Lettice smiled proudly to herself as she settled back more comfortably into the car’s maroon upholstery. Lettice is undeniably her father’s favourite child, but she has a strained relationship with her mother at the best of times as the two have differing views about the world and the role that women have to play in it. She only hopes as she nears her family home, that Lady Sadie, who does not particularly approve of her venture into interior design, will be proud of her achievement this time.
As the Daimler purrs up the gravel driveway and stops out the front of Glynes, Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler, steps through the front door followed by Marsen, the liveried first footman. Marsden silently opens the door of the Daimler for Lettice and helps her step out before fetching her luggage.
“Welcome home, My Lady,” Bramley greets her with an open smile. “What a pleasure it is to see you looking so well.”
“Thank you Bramley,” she replies with a satisfied smile as she looks up at the classical columned portico of her beloved childhood home basking in the spring sunshine. “It’s always good to be home.”
“How was the train journey from London, My Lady?” Bramley asks Lettice as he falls in step a few paces behind her.
“Oh, quite pleasant, thank you Bramley. I have my novel to while away the time.”
“We were all pleased and proud to see your name in print in Her Ladyship’s copy of Country Life.”
“Oh, thank you, Bramley. That’s very kind of you to say. I take it that is why I have been summoned here today.”
The butler clears his throat a little awkwardly and looks seriously at Lettice. “I couldn’t say, My Lady, however they are expecting you, in the drawing room.” The statement is said with the gravitas that befits one of the country house’s finest rooms.
Lettice’s face falls. “Do I have time to refresh myself.” She peels off her gloves as she walks through the marble floored vestibule and into the lofty Adam style hall of Glynes. The familiar scent of old wood, tapestries and carpets welcomes her home.
“I was asked to show you into the drawing room immediately upon your arrival, My Lady,” Bramley says as Marsden closes the front doors and then the vestibule doors behind them. “Her Ladyship insisted, and His Lordship didn’t contradict her.”
“Oh. Do I sense an air of disquiet, Bramley?” Lettice asks, handing the butler her red fox collar and then shrugging off her russet three quarter length coat into his waiting white glove clad hands.
“Well My Lady, may I just say that your article caused somewhat of a stir both above and below stairs.” He accepts Lettice’s elegant picture hat of russet felt ornamented with pheasant feathers.
“Yes, so Harris told me. Good or bad above stairs, Bramley?”
“I think,” the older manservant contemplates. “Mixed, might be the best answer to that, My Lady.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, His Lordship, and Master Leslie were thrilled, as was the young Mrs. Chetwynd. However, as you know, My Lady, Her Ladyship has particular ideas as to your future.” He cocks an eyebrow and gives her a knowing look. “She’s had them planned since the day you were born, and you know she dislikes it when her plans go awry.”
“Oh.” Lettice says with a disappointed lilt in her answer. “Well, thank you Bramley,” she gives him a sad, yet grateful smile. “You are a brick for warning me.” She brushes down the front of her flounced floral sprigged spring frock, sighs and says with a sigh, “Then I best get this over with, hadn’t I?”
“I don’t see an alternative, My Lady.”
“Then don’t worry, I’ll show myself into the drawing room. I should imagine this will only be an overnight stay.”
Without waiting for a reply, Lettice turns on her heel and walks down the corridor, her louis heels clicking along the parquetry flooring, echoing off the walls decorated with gilt framed portraits of the Chetwynd ancestors, their dogs, horses and paintings of views of the estate. She stops before the pair of beautiful walnut double doors that open onto the drawing room, grasps one of the gilded foliate handles, turns it and steps in.
The very grand and elegant drawing room of Glynes with its grand dimensions, high ceiling and gilt Louis and Palladian style furnishings has always been one of Lettice’s favourite rooms in the house. It is from here that she developed her love for collecting fine Limoges porcelain to emulate the collection amassed by her great, great paternal grandmother Lady Georgiana Chetwynd. No matter what time of day, the room is always light and airy thanks to its large full-length windows and beautiful golden yellow Georgian wallpaper decorated in a pattern of delicate blossoms and paper lanterns which seems almost to exude warmth and golden illumination. Whilst decorated with many generations of conspicuous consumption, it is not overly cluttered and it does not have the suffocating feel of Lady Sadie’s morning room, which she loathes, and it smells familiarly of a mixture of fresh air, bees wax polish and just a waft of roses. Glancing around, Lettice can see the latter comes from two vases of roses – one white bunch and one golden yellow cluster – both in elegant porcelain vases. The room is silent, save for the quiet ticking of several clocks set about polished surfaces, the hiss of dusty wood as it burns and the muffled twitter of birds in the bushes outside the drawing room windows. And there, by the grand crackling fire, her parents sit in what she hopes to be companionable silence.
Lady Sadie sits in her usual armchair next to the fire, dressed in a grey woollen skirt, a burnt orange silk blouse and a matching cardigan with her everyday double strand pearls about her neck. With her wavy white hair framing her face in an old fashioned style she looks not unlike Queen Mary, as she sips tea from one of the floral tea cups from her favourite Royal Doulton set, lost in her own thoughts as she stares out through the satin brocade curtain framed windows. The Viscount on the other hand is sitting opposite his wife in the high backed gilded salon chair embroidered in petit point tapestry by his mother. Dressed in his usual country tweeds worn when going about the estate, Lettice notices that he is immersed in the very copy of Country Life that her interiors feature. Between them, tea and coffee in silver pots stand on a small black japanned chinoiserie occasional table along with the round silver biscuit sachet that has once been Lady Sadie’s mother’s.
“Well, here I am.” Lettice announces with false joviality, alerting both her parents to her presence as she closes the door behind her.
“Lettice!” the Viscount exclaims, jumping up from his seat, slightly crumpling the pages of the Country Life between his right fingers as he lets his hands fall to his side. “My dear girl!” He beams at her proudly. Thrusting out the magazine in front of him as if trying to prove a point, he continues. “What a surprise, eh?” He indicates to the article about ‘Chai an Treth’, which he was reading, as Lettice suspected.
“Pappa!”
Lettice hurries into the room, steps between the gilt upholstered chairs that are part of the Louis Quartzose salon suite that had been included in her mother’s dowery when she married her father and falls happily into the loving arms of the Viscount who smells comfortingly of fresh air and grass as he envelopes her.
“Don’t gush, Cosmo!” Lady Sadie chides, giving her husband a withering look of distain as she sips her tea with a crispness, passing judgement like usual over her husband and youngest daughter’s emotional relationship, which she unable to fathom.
“Hullo Mamma.” Lettice reluctantly removes herself from her father’s welcoming embrace and walks over to her mother, who places her teacup aside and tilts her head so that Lettice can give her an air kiss on both cheeks, their skin barely touching in the transaction.
“Help yourself to tea and biscuits.” Lady Sadie pronounces, indicating with a sharp nod to the low tea table upon which sits a third, unused, teacup and saucer nestled amongst the other tea things. “Mrs. Casterton has made her custard creams this week.”
“Thank you, Mamma.” Lettice sees a selection of vanilla and chocolate cream biscuits on a plate already as she helps herself to tea from the small round sterling silver pot, polished to a gleaming sheen by Bramley or the head parlour maid. She takes up one each of the two varieties of custard creams, ignoring the look of criticism from her mother by doing so, depositing them onto her saucer. She then settles down on the settee, closest to her father and puts her cup on the table next to her.
“My dear girl! My dear girl!” the Viscount repeats in a delighted voice as he tosses the copy of Country Life with the crumpling sound of paper onto the top of a pile of newspapers and periodicals atop a petite point footstool. “Exemplifying a comfortable mixture of old and new to create a welcoming and contemporary room, sympathetic to the original features.” he paraphrases one of Lettice’s favourite lines in Henry Tipping’s** article, giving away that this was hardly the first time he has read the article since the magazine arrived at Glynes. “What wonderful praise from Mr. Tipping.”
“Oh, do stop, Cosmo!” pleads Lady Sadie from her seat on the other side of the fireplace, toying with the pearls at her throat. “Gushing is so unbecoming,” She glares critically at her husband. “Especially from a man of your age. It’s emasculating.”
Lettice gives her mother a wounded glance before quickly looking at her father, however he bares a steeliness in his jaw.
“Why shouldn’t I gush, Sadie?” he replies in defence of himself and his daughter, looking over his shoulder at Lady Sadie, determination giving his voice strength. “This is our child we are talking about,” He turns back and smiles with unbridled delight at Lettice, his eyes glittering with pride. “And I’m damn proud that Lettice has her name in print in a periodical such as Country Life, even if you are less so.”
“I don’t know whether I am pleased at all, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie eyes her daughter. “I’d rather see your name printed in the society pages next to a certain eligible duke’s son’s name, Lettice.” she adds dryly as she picks up a custard cream and gingerly nibbles at it as though it might contain rat bait. “Then, I’d gush.”
“Mamma!” Lettice manages to utter in a strangulated fashion as disappointment at her mother’s reaction to the article grips her like a cold pair of hands around her throat.
“It’s your duty to marry, Lettice, and marry well. You know this.” Lady Sadie lectures in reply haughtily. “We’ve had this conversation time and time again. You don’t want to be a burden on poor Leslie when your father dies, do you?” She nibbles some more at the biscuit clutched between her fingers.
“Oh Sadie!” the Viscount gasps. “Don’t be crabby. You must concede that you are proud that one of the leading authorities on architecture and interior design in Britain has spoken so highly of our daughter’s work.”
The older woman pulls a face, cleaning mushy biscuit remains from her gums, but doesn’t dignify the statement with an answer.
“Can’t you be just a little happy for me, Mamma?” Lettice pleads as she reaches out and grasps her father’s bigger hand for comfort and support. “Just this once?”
“I’ll be happy when I see you married off.” She picks up her cup and saucer and takes a sip of tea. “Is it not bad enough that I have one wayward child? Perhaps I had better pack you off to British East Africa too.”
“Tipping said Lettice is a very capable interior designer.” the Viscount defends his favourite child. “And the photos prove that.”
“Capable!” Lady Sadie scoffs with a nod of disgusted acknowledgement of the magazine lying beyond the tea table. “The room looks barren – positively starved of furnishings and character. How can that be capable interior design? There is practically nothing in it, to design!”
“But paired back is the new style now, Mamma. People don’t want…”
“What?” Lady Sadie snaps, the fine bone china cup clattering in its saucer.
“Well they don’t necessarily want all this.” Lettice gesticulates around her, almost apologetically, to the furnishings around them. “People want cleaner lines these days, to better reflect their more modern lives.”
“So your father and I are old hat?” Lady Sadie quips. “Is that what you’re saying, Lettice?”
“No, of course not Mamma. I love you and Pappa, and Glynes is classically beautiful. You do a wonderful job at maintaining the elegance of the house. I did retain some of the original décor of Margot and Dickie’s house as part of my refurbishment, even though Margot told me to fling it all out. Mr. Tipping calls it ‘Modern Classical Revival Style’. You and Pappa taught me to always respect a house’s history, and that is what I did, whilst giving Margot the more modern look she wants.”
“Pshaw! That girl hasn’t an ounce of taste. Her family have always been new money.” remarks Lady Sadie dismissively. “You can always tell the difference between the old and the new. True breeding will always win out.”
“Margot is my friend Mamma! Please don’t say such hurtful things.”
“Well, whatever you may think of Lettice’s choice in friends, Sadie, you cannot deny the credit she has brought to the family name by being associated with the Marquis of Taunton.” retorts the Viscount.
“Only by association with this interior design folly nonsense of hers, Cosmo.” She flaps her bejewelled hand at her daughter, the lace trimmed handkerchief partially stuffed up the left sleeve of her knitted silk cardigan dancing about wildly with every movement. “At least you were good enough to have your name and business published in a respectable periodical, Lettice.” she concedes begrudgingly.
“Well, I’m proud of you, Lettice my girl, and there’s a fact.” He turns again and stares with a hard look at his wife before pronouncing, “And so too is your brother and Arabella, and the Tyrwhitts. Your mother is just bitter because she wasn’t the one who was able to announce the news to the whole village.”
“You had no right not to tell me about this article, Lettice!” Lady Sadie grumbles as she cradles her cup and saucer in her lap in a wounded fashion, whilst foisting angry and resentful looks at her daughter. “None at all! I hadn’t even had an opportunity to open the magazine and peruse it before I had the Miss Evanses up here, unannounced, crowing about your name in print in Country Life and how proud I must feel.”
Lettice cannot help but smile at the thought of her mother being assailed by the two twittering spinster sisters who live in Holland House, a Seventeenth Century manor house in the village. The pair are known for their love of gossip, and even more for their voracity at spreading it, as they attempt to fill their lives which they obviously feel are lacking in drama and excitement. The chagrin Lady Sadie must have felt would have been palpable.
“Don’t you dare smile at my humiliation, you wicked girl! I had to pretend, Lettice! Pretend to those two awful old women, fawning and toadying the way they do, that I had read the article, and there it sat, unopened on my bonheur de jour***, completely untouched.”
“I only wanted it to be a surprise, Mamma.”
“Well, it certainly was that.” The woman’s eyes flame with anger. “I had feign that I was only being a tease when I showed such surprise to the Miss Evanses about your name in that article. Luckily the two were more interested in their own delight at their association to you than my genuine surprise that they believed me.” She turns her head away from her husband and daughter and adds uncharitably, “Stupid creatures.”
“Now don’t be bitter, Sadie.” the Viscount chides his wife. “Bitterness doesn’t become a lady of any age.”
“I’m not bitter!” spits Lady Sadie hotly with a harsh laugh of disbelief.
“Yes, you are.” her husband retorts with a gentle laugh of his own. “The more you defend yourself, the more evident it is, Sadie. You are just upset that the Miss Evanses had done a successful job of spreading the news through the village before you had the chance to do so yourself. They took the wind out of your sails. Lettice meant it to be a delightful surprise, and it was, my dear girl.”
“She didn’t consider the consequences.”
“The petty rivalry between her somewhat misguided mother, who should know better, and two old village crones, should hardly be a concern of one of London’s newest and brightest interior designers, Sadie.”
“Well, shouldn’t I have the opportunity to boast about my own daughter, Cosmo?”
“Aha! There!” the Viscount crows triumphantly. “So, you are proud of Lettice then.”
Lady Sadie thrusts her cup noisily onto the side table and stands up, brushing biscuit crumbs from her lap with angry sweeps onto the Chinese silk carpet at her feet. “You do talk a lot of nonsense, Cosmo.” She mutters brittlely. “I need to go and attend to something. So, if you will please excuse me.” She prepares to leave, but then adds as an afterthought, “But when I come back, I hope you two will have finished your character assassination of me.”
Lettice and her father watch Lady Sadie stalk towards the door with her nose in the air.
“I just hope that the Duchess doesn’t read that article, Lettice.” Lady Sadie says with a meanness in her angry voice. “I very much doubt she would like a daughter in trade. I hope you realise that this little stunt of yours could have ruined the best match you’ll ever get.”
The older woman opens the door and walks out into the corridor.
“Just ignore your mother.” the Viscount waves his hand before his wife as if erasing her presence as the door slams behind her, making both he and his youngest daughter wince. “She really is just jealous of those two silly old spinsters because they were gossiping about you in the village before she was able to do so.”
“I just wanted it to be a lovely surprise for you and her, Pappa.” Lettice pleads with wide and concerned eyes welling with tears.
“I know, my girl. I know.” He takes his handkerchief from his inside pocket and passes it to Lettice, who dabs at her eyes.
“I even organised with Mr. Tipping for Mamma to get her edition early,” Lettice sniffs. “But I suppose the mail delivery let me down.”
“Well,” her father shrugs. “Any general worth his wait in salt**** will tell you that the very best laid plans can go awry.” He smiles at her consolingly. “Your mother is contrary at the best of times. She’ll never admit that she is happy with any success that isn’t of her own making. Why on earth you seek her approval, I don’t know.” he adds in exasperation. “Do you deliberately wish to punish yourself, dear girl?”
Lettice sighs and sniffs. “I just hope that one day she will be proud of me. I feel like I’ve always disappointed her.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three, Pappa.”
“Then you are old enough to know that no matter how hard you try, your mother will never admit to you that she is proud of you. If you do end up marring young Spencely, I doubt even then that she will willingly admit to being proud of you.”
“You’re right, Pappa. I should know better. You know that Lally told me the Christmas before last that Mamma lords the perfection of her married life over me, whilst lording the glamour of my life over her.”
“Quite so.” the Viscount admits. “I always told your mother that playing that game would do her no god in the end.” He laughs sadly. “But you know your mother. She won’t be told anything. I’m glad that your sister told you what’s what. Sadie hasn’t that power over you any more, now that you know the truth, Lettice.”
“But why does she do it?”
“Like I said, your mother is sadly misguided. Whether you believe me or not, it isn’t done out of spite.”
“Then what?”
“She does it to try and get you to both emulate the good things in the other. She wants Lally to be ambitious like you. The truth is I don’t think she ever really approved of the match between Lally and Lanchenbury.”
“But Lally and Charles are very happy together.”
“I know, Lettice. I know.” He pats her hands. “I think she considers him to be a little below the expectations she had for her eldest daughter, coming from a good and wealthy, but relatively socially insignificant family. That’s why she aspires for you through the marriage bed, dear girl.”
“But marriage isn’t all I aspire to, Pappa.”
“I know that too, and both your mother and I know how decimated the options are for young ladies in the wake of the war, your mother probably far better than I. But you must forgive us for wanting you to fill the role we expect you to fill, and for us hoping that it is a financial and socially ambitious match you make.” He sighs wearily. “Although with the way the world is changing, that seems to be becoming a less likely thing. I’m only grateful your brother made me modernise the estate. Goodness knows if we would have survived this post-war world of ours, and even now, I wonder whether we actually will.”
“Don’t say that Pappa.”
“Whatever happens, don’t let your mother upset you, and don’t let her spoil your triumph. I repeat, your brother, Arabella, the whole district is so proud of you, and I’m sure that all your friends, and young Spencely are equally proud to know you.”
“Alright Pappa,” Lettice sighs as her father places a consoling hand on her shoulder and rubs it lovingly. “I won’t.”
“That’s my girl. Now, I’m sure your mother has gone to arrange luncheon for Lady Edgar, the vicar and any number of other members of the great and good of the county, all of whom she will be singing your praises to – not that she will tell you that.” The Viscount winks conspiratorially at Lettice. “So, what’s say you and I go and have luncheon at the Dower House with Leslie and Arabella? I know they would love to see you and congratulate you.”
“Thank you Pappa!”
Lettice and her father embrace, and the pair remain in position for a few minutes, enjoying the intimacy without the criticism of Lady Sadie.
*Country Life is a British weekly perfect-bound glossy magazine that is a quintessential English magazine founded in 1897, providing readers with a weekly dose of architecture, gardens and interiors. It was based in London at 110 Southwark Street until March 2016, when it became based in Farnborough, Hampshire. The frontispiece of each issue usually features a portrait photograph of a young woman of society, or, on occasion, a man of society.
**Henry Tipping (1855 – 1933) was a French-born British writer on country houses and gardens, garden designer in his own right, and Architectural Editor of the British periodical Country Life for seventeen years between 1907 and 1910 and 1916 and 1933. After his appointment to that position in 1907, he became recognised as one of the leading authorities on the history, architecture, furnishings and gardens of country houses in Britain. In 1927, he became a member of the first committee of the Gardens of England and Wales Scheme, later known as the National Gardens Scheme.
***A bonheur de jour is a type of lady's writing desk. It was introduced in Paris by one of the interior decorators and purveyors of fashionable novelties called marchands-merciers around 1760, and speedily became intensely fashionable. Decorated on all sides, it was designed to sit in the middle of a room so that it could be admired from any angle.
****Although these days we commonly say that someone is worth their weight in gold, to say that someone is “worth one’s salt,” is the more traditional saying. Its meaning is the same. It’s a statement that acknowledges that they are competent, deserving, and – to put it simply – worthwhile. The phrase itself is thought to be rooted in Ancient Rome where soldiers were sometimes paid with salt or given an allowance to purchase salt. Similarly, if a person uses the phrase “worth its weight in salt,” to describe an object, they are expressing that they think the item is worth the price they paid or that it otherwise holds immense value to them.
This grand Georgian interior may appear like something out of a historical stately country house, but it is in fact part of my 1:12 miniatures collection and includes items from my childhood, as well as those I have collected as an adult.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The gilt Louis Quatorze chair and sofa, the black japanned chinoiserie tea table and the gilt swan round tables table are made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
The gilt high backed salon chair is also made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq, but what is particularly special about it is that it has been covered in antique Austrian floral micro petite point by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, which makes this a one-of-a-kind piece. The artisan who made this says that as one of her hobbies, she enjoys visiting old National Trust Houses in the hope of getting some inspiration to help her create new and exciting miniatures. She saw some beautiful petit point chairs a few years ago in one of the big houses in Derbyshire and then found exquisitely detailed petit point that was fine enough for 1:12 scale projects.
The Palladian console tables at the back to either side of the fireplace, with their golden caryatids and marble was commissioned by me from American miniature artisan Peter Cluff. Peter specialises in making authentic and very realistic high quality 1:12 miniatures that reflect his interest in Georgian interior design. His work is highly sought after by miniature collectors worldwide. This pair of tables are one-of-a-kind and very special to me.
The elegant ornaments that decorate the surfaces of the Chetwynd’s palatial drawing room very much reflect the Eighteenth Century spirit of the room.
On the centre of the mantlepiece stands a Rococo carriage clock that has been hand painted and gilded with incredible attention to detail by British 1:12 miniature artisan, Victoria Fasken. The clock is flanked by a porcelain pots of yellow, white and blue petunias which have been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton. At either end of mantle stand a pair of Staffordshire sheep which have been hand made, painted and gilded 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 sheep actually have smiles on their faces!
Two more larger example of Ann Dalton’s petunia posies stand on the Peter Cluff Palladian console tables. The one on the left is flanked by two mid Victorian (circa 1850) hand painted child’s tea set pieces. The sugar bowl and milk jug have been painted to imitate Sèvres porcelain. The right table features examples of pieces from a 1950s Limoges miniature tea set which I have had since I was a teenager. Each piece is individually stamped on its base with a green Limoges stamp. The vase containing the yellow roses is also a Limoges miniature from the 1950s.
The silver tea and coffee set and silver biscuit sachet on the central chinoiserie tea table, have been made with great attention to detail, and come from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The wonderful selection of biscuits on offer were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The gilt edged floral teacups and plate on the table come from a miniatures specialist stockist on E-Bay. The blue and white vase the white roses stand in comes from Melody Jane’s Dolls House Suppliers in the United Kingdom.
The white and yellow roses are also made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The copy of Country Life sitting on the footstool which is a lynchpin of this chapter was made by me to scale using the cover of a real 1923 edition of Country Life. The 1:12 miniature copy of ‘The Mirror’ beneath it is made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
The hand embroidered pedestal fire screen may be adjusted up or down and was acquired through Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop.
All the paintings around the Glynes drawing room in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States, and the wallpaper is an authentic copy of hand-painted Georgian wallpaper of Chinese lanterns from the 1770s.
The Georgian style fireplace I have had since I was a teenager and is made from moulded plaster.
The Persian rug on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company 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 at Glynes, 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. Lettice is visiting her old family home for the wedding of Leslie to Arabella, the daughter of their neighbours, Lord Sherbourne and Lady Isobel Tyrwhitt. She has come a few days earlier than the other family members who are coming to stay at Glynes for the significant event.
Alighting from the London train at Glynes village railway station, Lettice is quickly swept away to the house by Harris, the chauffer, in the Chetwynd’s 1912 Daimler. As the Daimler purrs up the gravel driveway, Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler, steps through the front door followed by Marsen, the liveried first footman. Descending the stairs Marsden pads across the crunching gravel and opens the door of the Daimler for Lettice.
“Welcome home, My Lady,” Bramley greets her with an open smile as she walks up the steps to the front door. “What a pleasure it is to see you back again.”
“Thank you Bramley,” she replies with a satisfied smile and a sigh as she looks up at the classical columned portico of her beloved childhood home basking in the weakening autumnal sunshine of the late morning. “It’s good to be home.”
She sweeps into the lofty classical Adam style entrance hall of Glynes where she waits for Bramley to accept her gloves, her fox fur stole and her grey travelling coat.
“How was the train journey from London, My Lady?” Bramley asks Lettice as helps her shirk her coat from her shoulders, revealing a smart silvery grey frock with a sailor collar, a double rope of perfect pearls given to her by her parents as a coming of age birthday gift about her neck.
“Oh, quite pleasant, thank you Bramley.”
“Her Ladyship is expecting you in the morning room.”
“I’ll just go upstairs and freshen up first.” Lettice points to her escape route up the stairs to her bedroom up on the third floor of the mansion.
“Very good My Lady. However… I should…” Bramley adds with a touch of hesitation. Sighing he continues, “Master Lionel has arrived home from British East Africa*.”
Lettice feels all the happiness she felt moments ago at returning to her childhood home for the wonderful occasion of her eldest brother’s wedding dissipate at the mere mention of her other brother’s name. Her face falls and the sparkle in her eyes is extinguished by a darkness. “Oh.” she mumbles, as she deposits her gloves in Bramley’s open and expectant hand.
“I… I thought you were better pre-warned, My Lady.” Bramley says dourly. “Her Ladyship has been anxious awaiting your arrival. She will wan….”
As if on cue, one of the double doors to the morning room just down the passageway opens with a squeak of door handles, the pop of a lock and the rasp of old wood.
“Ahh, Lettice!” Lady Sadie’s head crowned with her well-coiffed grey hair pops around the panelled door and smiles rather forcefully.
The older woman slips out the door, closing it quietly behind her before marching brusquely down the hall towards her daughter, the louis heels of her shoes clipping loudly on the parquetry floor beneath her.
“Thank god you’re here at last!” she sighs quietly with relief as she reaches her daughter’s side and places a hand heavily upon her forearm. “I thought you would never get here! I simply don’t think I can cope alone much longer with both your brother and Eglantine together in the same room.” She breathes heavily, as if her heart is under a major strain. “You must come and rescue me, at once.”
“But I was about to…” Lettice begins, gesticulating to the stairs.
“At once!” Lady Sadie demurs commandingly.
“Shall I bring some fresh tea, Your Ladyship?” Bramley asks.
“I’d prefer a dubonnet and gin at this moment.” Lady Sadie sighs, much to the surprise of both her unflappable faithful retainer and her daughter, both of whom exchange astonished glances. “My nerves are positively shot with Lionel and Eglantine to entertain all my own,” She looks accusingly at her daughter, as if she were responsible for the train arrival times from London. “And your father and brother conveniently nowhere in sight.”
“They’ll be out on estate business, Mamma.” Lettice chides her mother gently, as she unpins her hat from her head and passes it to the butler.
“It’s more convenience if you ask me.” She sniffs and stiffens, a steely haughtiness hardening the few softened edges of her face. “Considering the time of day, tea will have to suffice. Yes, Bramley. A fresh pot if you would, and some more biscuits if you can manage it.” Turning to Lettice she adds, “Your aunt always did have an over indulged sweet tooth, even during the war when we were on rations, and it seems that your brother has developed an unhealthy love of sugar during his time in Nairobi.”
“Very good, Your Ladyship.” Bramley says as he discreetly retreats with Lettice’s hat.
Wrapping her arm through Lettice’s, Lady Sadie forcefully guides her daughter towards the closed morning room door. “I know Emmery usually takes care of you when you are here, Lettice, but your Aunt Gladys’ maid has caught the flu, at the most inconvenient of times. So, Eglantine has graciously offered to share her maid with you.”
“Oh Mamma!” Lettice exclaims exasperatedly, her stomach tightening as they draw closer to the door. “I really don’t need a lady’s maid. I’m quite independent in London you know. It is 1922 after all – nearly 1923.”
“Now, now!” Lady Sadie scolds. “I can’t have idle servants’ gossip below stairs. What would the maids from the other guests think if their hostess’ daughter declines the use of a lady’s maid? Next, they’ll be calling you a bluestocking**!” Lettice rolls her eyes. “No!” Lady Sadie pressed her right hand firmly over Lettice’s left one. “We’ll just make up an excuse that your maid was taken ill too. In saying that, I can’t believe that Eglantine brought that awful girl!”
“Who, Lise?” Lettice queries, referring to her aunt’s lady’s maid by her first name. When Lady Sadie nods, she continues, “I’ve always found Lise to be very sweet and obliging.”
“It’s not her manner I mind,” the older woman lowers her voice. “It’s her cultural heritage that offends me.”
“Oh Mamma! How many times must you be told? Lise, just like Augusta and Clotilde, are Swiss, not German.”
“Swiss, German, it matters not! They are still foreign!” Lady Sadie snaps. “Eglantine always was contrary. Why on earth she had to have a foreigner when a good English lady’s maid would have been perfectly comparable is beyond my comprehension.”
“Well perhaps it’s…” Lettice begins, but her retort is cut short as her mother depresses the door handle to the morning room and pushes it open.”
“Here she is!” Lady Sadie announces brightly with false bonhomie to the guests sitting in her chairs. “Lettice is here at last!”
The Glynes morning room is very much Lady Sadie’s preserve, and the original classical Eighteenth Century design has been overlayed with the comfortable Edwardian clutter of her continual and conspicuous acquisition that is the hallmark of a lady of her age and social standing. China cabinets of beautiful porcelain line the walls. Clusters of mismatched chairs unholstered in cream fabric, tables and a floral chaise lounge, all from different eras, fill the room: set up to allow for the convivial conversation of the great and good of the county after church on a Sunday. The hand painted Georgian wallpaper can barely be seen for paintings and photographs in ornate gilded frames. The marble mantelpiece is covered by Royal Doulton figurines and more photos in silver frames. Several vases of Glynes’ hothouse flowers stand on occasional tables, but even their fragrance cannot smother Lady Sadie’s Yardley Lily of the Valley scent which is ever present in the air.
“Well, if it isn’t my favourite nice!” Eglantine, known by all the Chetwnd children by the affectionate diminutive name of ‘Aunt Egg’, exclaims as she sits regally in the straight-backed chair next to Sadie’s soft upholstered wingback chair.
When she was young, Eglantine had Titian red hair that fell in wavy tresses about her pale face, making her a popular muse amongst the Pre-Raphaelites she mixed with. With the passing years, her red hair has retreated almost entirely behind silver grey, save for the occasional streak of washed out reddish orange, yet she still wears it as she did when it was at its fiery best, sweeping softly about her almond shaped face, tied in a loose chignon at the back of her neck, held in place by an ornate tortoiseshell comb. Sitting with perfect posture in her chair with her arms resting lightly on the arms, she looks positively regal. Large chandelier earrings containing sparking diamonds hang from her lobes whilst strings of pearls and bright beads cascade down the front of her usual uniform of a lose Delphos dress** that does not require her to wear a corset of any kind, and a silk fringed cardigan, both in strikingly beautiful shades of sea blue.
“Hullo Aunt Egg.” Lettice replies as she walks over to her aunt’s seated figure and kisses her first on one proffered cheek and then the other as her aunt’s elegant, yet gnarled fingers covered in rings reach up and clench her forearms firmly. “I keep saying that I’m sure you say that to Lally and all our female cousins.”
“And I keep telling you that you will never know until after I’m gone.” her aunt laughs raspily in reply. “For then the truth will be known through the disbursement of my jewels. To my favourite, or favourites, go the spoils!”
“Oh Aunt Egg!” Lettice scoffs. “You really mustn’t talk like that.”
“Eglantine always talks like that.” mutters Lady Sadie disapprovingly as she resumes her own seat.
“I wish I was six feet under when I can’t even smoke one of my Sobranies****.” Eglantine quips sulkily. “But your mother won’t let me smoke in here.”
“It’s undignified for a lady to smoke in public.” Sadie defends.
“I thought that we were in private, dear Sadie.”
“Don’t be so literal Eglantine, or are you being obtuse on purpose?” Sadie asks. Eglantine smiles mischievously behind one of her hands at the rise she has gained from her detested sister-in-law. “It’s undignified for a lady to smoke. Anyway, this is my house, so I should be allowed to make the rules.”
“Hullo Lettuce Leaf!” comes a male voice to Lettice’s right, its well-modulated tones dripping with a mixture of mirth, mischief and malice.
Cringing at the use of her abhorred childhood nickname, Lettice turns her head, to where her brother, Lionel’s reclining form lies amidst the overstuffed confines of their mother’s floral chaise lounge, where he flips rather languidly through a more recent copy of Lady Sadie’s Elite Styles*****. He looks up at her and purses his thin lips in what Lettice can only presume is his version of a mean smile, but looks more like he just smelt fresh horse droppings.
“Lionel.” Lettice says laconically in a peevish tone, returning his steely gaze of her with her own.
“Your brother has just been regaling us with wild tales of his horse breeding in British East Africa,” Eglantine remarks cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the animosity radiating already between the two siblings. “Haven’t you, my darling boy!” She lets go of Lettice and reaches over to her nephew’s hand, which he proffers to her so she can grasp it lovingly.
Lettice casts her eyes critically over her brother. His looks have changed over the three years of his exile to Kenya after fathering illegitimate children to not one, but two of the Glynes maids and the dullard daughter of one of their father’s tenant farmers in the space of one year. He has lost the softness of entitlement that he had, replaced now by a more muscular ranginess created through the exertions of breeding horses on a high altitude stud on the slopes of the Aberdare Range******. The African sun has bleached his sandy tresses blonde, a change made even more noticeable by the golden sunbathed pallor of his face. Yet for all these changes, Lionel still has blue eyes as cold as chips of ice, full of hatred, and a mean and malevolent smile beneath his equally mean little strip pencil moustache as he looks at her with barely contained detestation. Lettice shudders and looks away.
“It looks as though the Kenyan climate agrees with you, Lionel,” Lettice concedes. “You look remarkably well.”
“I am well, my dear little sister.” he replies in a rather bored tone. “The sun is glorious out there: full and rich, not like the weak version shining here.”
“Sit here, Lettice my dear.” Eglantine insists, standing up, snatching up her Royal Doulton rose decorated teacup and gliding around the table on which sits the remains of morning tea.
“Oh no, Aunt Egg.” Lettice protests. “I’ll be quite fine…”
“Nonsense, my dear.” Eglantine settles into the ornate Victorian salon chair of unidentifiable style opposite, the hem of her gown pooling around her feet like a cascade of water. “Your mother and I have had all morning to chat with Lionel. You two are the closest in age, and besides, you haven’t seen each other in three years, so I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”
Just at that moment there is a discreet knock at the door.
“Come.” calls out Lady Sadie commandingly from her throne by the cracking fire.
The door is opened by Moira, one of the Chetwynd’s maids who has taken to assisting wait table at breakfast and luncheon on informal occasions since the war, who walks into the morning room holding the door open for Bramley, who steps across the threshold carrying a silver salver on which stand a fresh pot of tea and coffee, milk, sugar and a cup matching the others already being used for Lettice.
“You had better have brought more of those biscuits, Bramley!” Lionel snaps at the butler, carelessly tossing the magazine he had in his thin hands aside onto the floral pouffe that acts as a barrier between he and his sister, the magazine clipping his cup, which rattles emptily as it jostles in its saucer. “A man needs to eat!”
“Yes Sir.” Bramley replies obsequiously, politely ignoring Lionel’s rudeness as he carefully slides the tray, on which stands a plate of fresh colourful cream biscuits, onto the round central table as Moira picks up the tray of used tea implements to take away.
As Moira straightens up, Lionel catches her eye and gives her a conspiratorial wink, making the maid smirk and colour flood her cheeks. Although not noticed by Lady Sadie or Eglantine who are now engaged in a conversation about flowers for the wedding, Lettice’s sharp eye doesn’t miss the silent exchange between the two, and as Moira curtseys to her mistress, Lettice makes a mental note to have a word with the Chetwynd’s housekeeper, Mrs. Casterton, later, and remind her to have her warn not only Moira, but all the new maids on the staff about her brother’s roué ways.
“I see you haven’t changed, Lionel.” Lettice remarks dryly as she takes her seat next to her abhorred brother, glancing meaningfully between him and the retreating figure of Moira.
“Evidently neither have you, Lettuce Leaf.” Lionel smirks with unbridled delight as his sister cringes yet again at the mention of her nickname. “You always were the Chetwynd with the sharpest eye. I should have aimed better at you with my slingshot when I was eight and you were six.” He shuffles forward on the chaise and snatches three biscuits greedily from the gilt edged plate before shuffling back with them, tossing two carelessly onto his saucer with a clatter and placing the remaining one to his lips. “If I’d had a sharper eye, I’d have had better aim. If I’d had better aim, I could have blinded you like I wanted to. If I’d blinded you, in one eye at least, it would have saved me a lot of trouble later in life, and banishment to the wilds of Africa.”
“You always were cruel to me,” Lettice mutters bitterly with a shiver as she remembers the sharp pain of the stone at it hit her temple and imbedded itself into her flesh. “To all of us, really. Lally, even Leslie,” She reaches up and rubs the spot where a faint scar still remains from the gash left by the stone shot from her brother’s catapult. “But cruellest of all to me. You savoured every hurt you could inflict on me.”
“Survival of the fittest, my dear Lettuce Leaf.” He bites meaningfully into the biscuit, growling menacingly, imitating a wild beast tearing at the flesh of its kill.
“You’re a brute, Lionel.” Lettice looks away in disgust. She reaches out and takes up the teacup Bramley brought her and pours tea into her cup.
“Top me up, Lettuce Leaf!” Lionel pipes up loudly.
“Oh!” gasps Eglantine from across the table. “I haven’t heard you called that for years, Lettice.” She chortles happily. “Haven’t you two grown out of calling each other childhood nicknames?” she remarks good naturedly, picking up her cup.
“Evidently not, Aunt Egg.” Lettice replies with false good humour.
From her wingback chair Sadie quickly glances with concern at her two youngest children before turning back to Eglantine and answering her question.
Lettice deposits her cup on the table between she and her mother and then reaches for the teapot. She leans over towards her brother, who indicates with lowered lids and a commanding nod towards his empty cup, however she ignores his lofty silent demand and hovers with the pot’s spout over Lionel’s groin.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Lionel snarls viscously as he glances with irritation at his sister.
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” She tilts the pot slightly, making Lionel flinch and squirm on the chaise in an attempt to avoid any hot tea hitting and burning him in such a sensitive area. Seeing his reaction, she smiles and returns the pot to an upright position in her hand. “I’m not the frightened little girl you said goodbye to here three years ago, Lionel.” she warns him quietly. “I live independently in London now, and I’m a lot more worldly than I was.”
“Slut!” he hisses.
His insult slices Lettice to the bone, but steeling herself, she remains poised and unflinching as she tilts the pot down again, this time allowing the smallest amount of hot tea to escape the spout. It splatters onto a cream coloured rose printed on the fabric of the chaise and is quickly absorbed. “Is that the kind of parlance fashionable in Nairobi these days?” she asks mockingly in a falsely sweet tone.
“I’ll tell you what I do know, my dear little sister, having been a damn good racehorse breeder these last three years.”
“And what’s that Lionel?” Lettice proceeds to pour tea into her brother’s empty cup.
“I can tell that you’re still a stupid little filly who needs a good siring from a stallion.” He gently grinds his groin back and forth, representing the act.
Unflinching, Lettice replies breezily, “Oh, so you’ve learned about animal husbandry whilst you’ve been away. Good.” She leans closer to Lionel. “But your use of that language and vulgar and unnecessary demonstration just makes me feel even more disgusted by you.” She screws up her nose in distaste and looks down upon him.
Undeterred, determined not to be outdone and to inflict hurt on his little sister, Lionel continues, “Mater told me that here you are at twenty-two and you’re still an old maid, despite her attempts to get you married off.”
“In case you’ve forgotten Lionel, there has been a war, and a whole generation of men far better than you have been wiped out.”
“Mater would happily foist you off onto any unwitting fool of a man, war cripple or otherwise that would have you. However, it appears that there are no takers: not even a shellshock victim or a blind veteran. If that’s what you call living an independent life, I pity you, Lettuce Leaf - shrivelled and dried up old Lettuce Leaf, trodden on and soiled, Lettuce Leaf.”
“I have a good life in London, I’ll have you know, Lionel. I run my own business now.”
“Oh yes, Mater told me that you’re pursuing this little interior design charade of yours to fill the gap that no husband will fill.”
“And I happen to be very good at what I do.” Lettice speaks determinedly over her brother’s hurtful words.
“If you say so, dear.” Lionel sneers. “Pass me the milk and the sugar.”
“I’ve been very successful” Lettice passes him the sugar bowl.
“Going to snitch to Pater and Mater again, are you, you little worm?” Lionel shakes his head as he hands the sucrier back to his sister. “Just like you did three years ago.”
“If I think there is a necessity, Lionel.” Lettice remarks as she returns the sugar bowl and takes up the milk jug. Leaning down in a pretence of adding milk to his tea, she quietly whispers to Lionel, “Have I cause to do so?”
“What?” Lionel snorts derisively as he takes the jug roughly from her. “With that little filly?” He glances to the door through which Moira exited with Bramley. “Fear not, my plucky little sister. My tastes have changed since I was forced to leave here.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Lettice scoffs. “A leopard, his spots and all that.”
“No, I have, I assure you. I prefer mares now. The quality is better.”
“What are you insinuating, Lionel?”
“Well, despite Pater’s attempt to punish me for my dalliances: for the sewing of my wild oats,” Lettice looks away in abhorrence yet again as Lionel reaches down and rubs his inner thigh lasciviously. “He’s actually landed me in heaven on earth by sending me to Kenya.”
“Heaven?”
“Yes. The Muthaiga Club******* is full of hedonistic aristocrats, adventurers and elite colonial ex-pats,”
“No wonder you feel at home there.”
“Whose wives,” Lionel continues. “Are very bored in their husbands’ lengthy absences,” He hands her back the milk jug. “And their tiring presences. And unlike silly little fillies like the Moiras of this world, the mares know how not to get in the family way.”
“You sicken me, Lionel.” Lettice spits quietly.
In spite of her apparent engagement with Eglantine in conversation, Lady Sadie is keenly aware of the trouble brewing between er two children on the other side of the table, and her pale face crumples with concern.
“Nairobi is a veritable hotbed of drug taking and adultery,” Lionel goes on unabated. “Where promiscuity is de rigueur, little sister.” He smiles smugly as he takes a sip of his tea. “I was even taught a few things by the wife of a British peer who happens to be a good friend of Pater’s from his club!”
“Have you absolutely no shame?” Lettice asks in revulsion.
“Ahh, but that’s the good thing about Kenya. No-one has any need for shame there. Promiscuity and sexual prowess are badges of honour.”
“Then I’m sure you can’t wait to get back to your debauched lifestyle.”
“When I’m surrounded by British piety and hypocrisy here, my oath I am.”
“What are you two saying over there?” Lady Sadie pipes up nervously as she holds her cup and saucer in her lap.
“Oh, I was just asking Lionel when he has to go back to Kenya.” Lettice replies, looking gratefully to her mother for once.
“But he’s only just arrived, Lettice my dear!” chuckles Eglantine. “Surely you can’t want him to leave.”
“Oh it isn’t that, Eglantine,” Lady Sadie assures her sister-in-law. “It’s just that with the long journey both from British East Africa and back, he’ll have been away from the stud a good while, so he can only really stay until just after the wedding.”
“Oh really, Lionel?” Eglantine asks with a pout. “Can’t you even stay until Christmas? I don’t think we’ve had a Christmas with all you children under one roof since before the war.”
Knowing that his father, with whom he has a very strained relationship since being exiled in shame, only let him come back for Leslie and Arabella’s wedding for appearances’ sake, Lionel keeps up the pretence for his aunt’s sake and adds as he settles back into the scalloped back of the chaise, “Sorry Aunt Egg, but Mater is right. I’ll have been away from the farm for more than a month and a half by the time I get back.”
“But surely you have a steward you can leave in charge of the horse stud whilst you’re away.”
“Oh, I do, Aunt Egg.” Lionel agrees. “Capital chap too. Most capable.” He gazes down into his teacup. “However, it doesn’t pay to be away for too long. Kenya is full of treasure hunters and people on the make. I won’t let my stud suffer to line the pockets of, or up the prospects of, another man.”
“You always were competitive, even as child, my dear Lionel.” Eglantine smiles, shaking her head indulgently.
“Thinking of which, the Limru races will be coming up, not to mention the Kenya Derby******** so I have to be back for them!”
“Oooh!” Lettice sighs, raising her hand to her temple. “I think all this talk of wild Kenya is getting a bit much for me after my journey down from London.” She stands abruptly. “Would you all forgive me. I think I’d like to go to my room and lie down. I’m sure I’ll feel better after a short snooze and a freshen up.”
“Oh yes, do go up, Lettice.” Lady Sadie says soothingly, the look in her eyes betraying the fact that she knows how difficult it is for Lettice to even be in the same room as her brother. “It will be an hour or so before luncheon, so plenty of time to rest and recuperate. By that time your father and Leslie will be back from their estate rounds.” Turning to Eglantine she addresses her, “Eglantine, why don’t you and Lionel take a stroll around the gardens. I can’t stop you from smoking out of doors, and I’m sure Lionel would be happy to escort you.”
Lettice retreats, sighing with relief as she pulls the door of the morning room shut behind her, blocking out the hubbub of chatter. As she starts to retreat down the corridor, back to the main staircase, the door opens behind her and Lady Sadie slips out.
She scuttles up to her daughter. For the first time today, Lettice notices how pale and drawn her mother looks. Her pallor isn’t helped by her choice of a burnt orange coloured blouse, yet Lettice sees the dark circles under her eyes.
“Thank you for that, Lettice. I know that wasn’t easy for you.”
Lettice is stunned by her mother’s gracious acknowledgement and more so her thanks.
“Don’t worry,” Lady Sadie continues. “He’ll be gone the day after the wedding.” She heaves a shuddering sigh.
“If I don’t murder him before then.” Lettice seethes angrily.
“Well, if you do, I’ll help you bury his body in the rose garden.” Lady Sadie remarks with a smirk in a rare show of humour. “Your father has seen to it that Lionel will leave on Thursday, threating to cut him off without a bean if he doesn’t go quickly and quietly. Goodness knows the total of Lionel’s chits from the Muthaiga Club your father could practically re-roof this place with.”
“He’s just the same Mamma.” Lettice says with exasperation. “He hasn’t changed at all. In fact, I think he’s worse than before he left. He’s so full of bravado and priggish male privilege.”
“I’ve already told Mrs. Casterton to keep a sharp eye on all the maids whilst he’s here.”
“That won’t be easy with Leslie and Bella’s wedding to host, Mamma. You’d be better to tell her to warn all the girls to be on their guard.”
“Hhhmmm…” Lady Sadie considers. “Very sensible, Lettice. We’ll make you a suitable chatelaine of your own fine house, yet.”
“Oh Mamma!” Lettice sighs.
“Only until Thursday.” the older woman repeats.
“Only until Thursday.” Lettice confirms in reply.
*The Colony and Protectorate of Kenya, commonly known as British Kenya or British East Africa, was part of the British Empire in Africa. It was established when the former East Africa Protectorate was transformed into a British Crown colony in 1920. Technically, the "Colony of Kenya" referred to the interior lands, while a 16 km (10 mi) coastal strip, nominally on lease from the Sultan of Zanzibar, was the "Protectorate of Kenya", but the two were controlled as a single administrative unit. The colony came to an end in 1963 when an ethnic Kenyan majority government was elected for the first time and eventually declared independence as the Republic of Kenya.
**The term bluestocking was applied to any of a group of women who in mid Eighteenth Century England held “conversations” to which they invited men of letters and members of the aristocracy with literary interests. The word over the passing centuries has come to be applied derisively to a woman who affects literary or learned interests.
***The Delphos gown is a finely pleated silk dress first created in about 1907 by French designer Henriette Negrin and her husband, Mariano Fortuny y Madrazo. They produced the gowns until about 1950. It was inspired by, and named after, a classical Greek statue, the Charioteer of Delphi. It was championed by more artistic women who did not wish to conform to society’s constraints and wear a tightly fitting corset.
****The Balkan Sobranie tobacco business was established in London in 1879 by Albert Weinberg (born in Romania in 1849), whose naturalisation papers dated 1886 confirm his nationality and show that he had emigrated to England in the 1870s at a time when hand-made cigarettes in the eastern European and Russian tradition were becoming fashionable in Europe. Sobranie is one of the oldest cigarette brands in the world. Throughout its existence, Sobranie was marketed as the definition of luxury in the tobacco industry, being adopted as the official provider of many European royal houses and elites around the world including the Imperial Court of Russia and the royal courts of United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Spain, Romania, and Greece. Premium brands include the multi-coloured Sobranie Cocktail and the black and gold Sobranie Black Russian.
*****Elite Styles was one of the many glossy monthly magazines aimed at leisured middle and upper-class women, describing and illustrating the popular fashions of the era.
******The Aberdare Range (formerly the Sattima Range) is a one hundred mile long mountain range of upland, north of Kenya's capital Nairobi with an average elevation of thirteen thousand one hundred and thirty feet. It straddles across the counties of Nyandarua, Nyeri, Muranga, Kiambu and Laikipia.
*******The Muthaiga Club is a club in Nairobi. It is located in the suburb of Muthaiga, about fifteen minutes’ drive from the city centre. The Muthaiga Country Club opened on New Year's Eve in 1913, and became a gathering place for the colonial British settlers in British East Africa, which later became in 1920, the Colony of Kenya.
********The annual Kenya Derby has been held since 1914, originally at Kenya’s principal racecourse in Kariokor, near Nairobi’s centre until 1954 when it was moved to the newly erected Ngong Racecourse.
Cluttered with paintings, photographs and furnishings, Lady Sadie’s morning room with its Georgian and Victorian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection including pieces from my own childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The silver tea set and silver galleried tray on the central table has been made with great attention to detail, and comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The gilt edged floral teacups, saucers and plates around the morning room come from a miniatures specialist stockist on E-Bay. The wonderful selection of biscuits on offer were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The Elite Styles and Delineator magazines from 1922 sitting on the end of the chaise lounge and the floral pouffe were made by hand by Petite Gite Miniatures in the United States.
Lady Sadie’s morning room is furnished mostly with pieces from high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq. Lady Sadie’s cream wingback armchair is a Chippendale piece, whilst the gilt decorated mahogany tables are Regency style, as is the straight backed chair with unpadded arms. The ornate mahogany corner chair is high Victorian in style. The desk and its matching chair is a Salon Reine design, hand painted and copied from an Eighteenth Century design. All the drawers open and it has a lidded rack at either end. The china cabinet to the left-hand side is Georgian revival and is lined with green velvet and fitted with glass shelves and a glass panelled door. The cream coloured footstool with gold tasselling came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom. The floral chaise lounge and footstool I acquired from a miniatures specialist stockist on E-Bay.
The china cabinet is full of miniature pieces of Limoges porcelain that were made in the 1950s. Pieces include a milk jug, three sugar bowls and two lidded powder bowls. Also 1950s Limoges porcelain is the vase on the far left of the photo on the Regency table holding pink roses. The roses themselves are handmade miniatures that come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The fluted squat cranberry glass vase on the table to the right of the photo is an artisan miniature made of hand blown glass which also came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. Made of polymer clay that are moulded on wires to allow them to be shaped at will and put into individually formed floral arrangements, the very realistic looking red and white tulips are made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany. The tiny gilt cherub statue I have had since I was a teenager. I bought it from a high street stockist who specialised in dolls houses and doll house miniatures. Being only a centimetre in height and half a centimetre in diameter it has never been lost, even though I have moved a number of times in my life since its acquisition.
The plaster fireplace comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom as well, and the fire screen and fire pokers come from the same high street stockist who specialised in dolls houses and doll house miniatures as the cherub statue. I have also had these pieces since I was a teenager. The Royal Doulton style figurines on top the fireplace, are from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland and have been hand painted by me. The figurines are identifiable as particular Royal Doulton figurines from the 1920s and 1930s.
The Chetwynd’s family photos seen on Lady Sadie’s desk, the mantlepiece and hanging on the walls 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 largest frame on the right-hand side of the desk is actually a sterling silver miniature frame. It was made in Birmingham in 1908 and is hallmarked on the back of the frame. It has a red leather backing.
The two books about flower growing on Lady Sadie’s desk are 1:12 size miniatures 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. What might amaze you is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books 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. He also made the envelopes sitting in the rack to the left of the desk. 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 painting of the Georgian family above the fireplace comes from Amber’s Miniatures in the United States, whilst the two silhouette portraits come from Lady Mile Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The painting of the lady in the gold frame wedged up in the corner of the room surrounded by photos is made by Marie Makes Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The Persian rugs on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company 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 at Glynes, 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. Lettice is visiting her family home after receiving an invitation to motor down to Wiltshire from her 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. His family, the Brutons, are neighbours to the Cheywynds with their properties sharing boundaries. That is how Gerald and Lettice came to be such good friends. However, whilst both families are landed gentry with lineage going back centuries, unlike Lettice’s family, Gerald’s live in a much smaller baronial manor house and are in much more straitened circumstances. Whilst he visits his mother, who has caught a chill in the cold winter weather, Lettice is playing the part of a dutiful daughter and visiting her parents too, even though both are in excellent health. This is her last visit to Glynes before coming down to stay over the Christmas and New Year period.
We find ourselves in the very grand and elegant drawing room of Glynes with its gilt Louis and Palladian style furnishings where the family Christmas tree is being decorated by Lettice and her elder sister Lally’s two children. Alerted to her younger sister’s visit, Lalage (known to everyone in the family by the diminutive Lally), who is heavily pregnant and due to give birth in a few months, has come down to stay with her parents and eldest brother Leslie to coincide with Lettice’s visit. Although they have never been particularly close, with six years difference between them, Lally is filled with the Christmas spirit this year and has arrived with a conciliatory approach as she tries to build more of a relationship with Lettice now that she is older.
Lally finds it too difficult at this advanced stage in her pregnancy to join her children and Lettice decorating the tall fir tree cut from the Chetwynd estate, so she reclines on the Louis settee, toying with a fold-out family photograph album draped across her pregnant belly and watches the others as they unpack beautiful glass baubles, satin bows, garlands and glittering tinsel from old boxes.
“You always were the artistic one Lettice,” Lally remarks as her sister hangs a golden glass bauble on an upper bough of the tree where the children can’t reach with the aid of Viscount Wrexham’s library steps. “You have the knack for decorating the tree and making it look so beautiful.”
“That’s very kind of you to say so, Lally.” Lettice smiles thinly. “Oh no Harrold, not that bauble,” she directs her seven year old nephew as he tries to hand her a shiny red glass ball. “Grandmamma always likes the tree in here to be decorated with gold to match the furniture.”
“She only insists on that because she is so proud of the furnishings in here.” Lally pipes up from the settee. “Having been given as part of her marriage settlement by Grandfather Piers.”
“I didn’t know that, Lally!” Lettice gasps.
“Oh yes. She told me that when she and I sat in here the day that Pappa settled my dowery with Lord Lanchenbury in the library.”
“No wonder she was always scolding us if it even looked like a stray shoe was going to work its way onto the upholstery.”
“Yes,” Lally chuckles looking down over the photo album and her protuberant belly wrapped tightly in russet georgette with Art Nouveau embroidery, to her silk lisle clad feet resting on the settee’s cushioned seat. “At least I’ve taken my wretched shoes off.” She wriggles her toes as she glances down at her louis heeled deep red slippers standing on the carpet. “Not that I may be able to get them back on again. Pregnancy always makes my feet swell.”
Harrold looks thoughtfully at the red bauble in his hand and then glances with excitement at its matching decorations still in the dusty and battered old boxes. “Does that mean there is going to be a second Christmas tree this year, Auntie Tice?”
Lettice chuckles and leans down, tousling Harrold’s blonde hair. “No darling, but we used to have two trees decorated every year before the war. One in here like this, and a much bigger one in the entrance hall. That’s why there are so many decorations in these boxes.” She looks thoughtfully at the boxes and their contents strewn about on the carpet. “Poor Bramley. I should really have told him only to unpack the gold decorations. He has so much to do as it is these days.”
“Yes, poor Bramley. It’s not easy managing a house like this on reduced staff numbers. Mind you, it looks like the decorations are all jumbled together anyway.” Lally muses, looking at the photograph album resting on her stomach as her mind drifts away to the past. “Do you remember those wonderful pre-war Christmases we used to have, Lettice?”
“Oh yes, when we had more servants to help decorate both trees.”
“And all of us too. You were always the one who knew best when it came to decorating, but Leslie, Lionel and I tried to do our bit.”
“However did you cope before I was born?” Lettice asks cheekily.
Lally looks at the photos of past Chetwynds, gazing out from prettily decorated round and square holes with sepia eyes. “I wonder,” she asks as she looks. “Who this one will look like when they are born.” She glances up at her son, sifting through a Gossages Dry Soap crate looking for a correctly coloured Christmas ball to give to his aunt. “Harrold looks so much like Pappa.”
“Well,” Lettice says thoughtfully, tugging at a recalcitrant piece of tinsel. “He or she may look more like his or her father than a Chetwynd.”
“Like Charles!” Lally scoffs. “Oh, I don’t think so, Lettice. I’m convinced that the Lanchenbury genes are recessive.”
“Who do I look like Auntie Tice?” Annabelle, Lettice’s five year old niece, asks from her place decorating the boughs around the foot of the Christmas tree.
“You look like a beautiful princess, darling,” Lettice confirms bountifully, giving her an earnest look.
“Oh!” the little girl exclaims and smiles proudly. “Did you hear that, Harrold? You look like old Grandpappa, and I look like a pretty princess!” She pirouettes prettily about on the spot, her fuchsia coloured skirts billowing around her.
“I don’t look like an old man!” Harrold counters angrily as he reaches up to his aunt clutching two gold baubles.
“No Harrold, you don’t,” Lally placates from the settee. “But you look like Grandpappa did when he was young, and he was very handsome when he was young.”
Harrold smiles, pleased that he doesn’t look like an old white haired man with a beard, and he turns his back on his teasing sister, who is still spinning about gleefully as she imagines herself to be a fine lady.
“Remember when the villagers used to come up to the front door singing carols on Christmas Eve,” Lally continues on her nostalgic journey of pre-war Christmases. “Mamma and Pappa would invite them in to warm themselves by the fire in the entrance hall and enjoy the big Christmas tree all covered in tinsel, baubles and lighted candles.”
“Pappa still gets Bramley to bring out snifters of brandy for them whilst they warm themselves by the fire,” Lettice accepts an appropriately gold bauble from her nephew. “But you’re right, some of magic has gone out of that now that there is no longer a Christmas tree in the hall.”
“Do you think we could ask Grandpappa to get us one this year, Auntie Tice?” Harrold asks, looking up at Lettice hopefully.
“Oh I think it’s a bit late now, darling.” Lettice explains kindly. “There is a heavy snow outside and ground his hard. We don’t want the gardeners all catching colds for Christmas, now do we?” Harrold shakes his head solemnly and Lettice tousles his hair again good naturedly before suggesting, “Maybe next year. We’ll ask Grandpappa later. Alright?”
“Alright Auntie.” he replies.
“Good boy.” Lettice whispers with a gentle smile, accepting the second bauble from her nephew.
“Remember the fun we always had as children getting dressed up for Mamma and Pappa’s fancy dress Hunt Ball?” Lally asks her sister. “Mamma was always the queen of the ball. And you used to like being a faerie with a tinsel crown and a silver wand.”
“I’m going as a faerie this year,” pipes up Annabelle proudly.
“Is that so, darling?” Lettice asks her with a munificent smile.
She nods emphatically. “Nanny is making my dress.”
“Yes,” Lettice chuckles wistfully. “Nanny Webb must have spent hours making our outfits, sewing stars onto my dress and making me gossamer wings. You liked to go as Columbine*, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but my outfit was bought from Clarkson’s** London. So was Lionel’s Pierrot*** costume.”
“What did Leslie go as? For the moment I don’t remember.”
“Leslie is just like Pappa. He hated fancy dress. Being older than us, he told me that fancy dress was for children, and he used to go in his hunting pinks****, just like Pappa.”
“Oh yes. Now I remember. I still love fancy dress parties.” Lettice responds. “I’m coming as Cinderella to the Hunt Ball this year, which is most apt considering that Mamma wants to marry me off.”
“Who’s on the offing?”
“Jonty Hastings,”
“Not Howling Hastings?”
Lettice nods. “The very one!” She and her sister both giggle childishly.
“Who else?” Lally asks with bated breath.
“Tarquin Howard, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes,”
“He’s an old man!” Lally laughs.
“Nicholas Ayers.” Lettice continues to list.
“He’s an invert*****!” Lally scoffs, then quickly raises her hand to her mouth as she glances with alarm at the children. She heaves a sigh of relief as they seem too involved in decorating the lower branches of the tree to pay attention to her and ask her what an invert is. “Mamma may as well marry you to Gerald Bruton then.”
“Ah, but Gerald is the spare you see, not that Mamma knows what we do about him, and anyway, the Brutons don’t have the money that the Ayres do.”
“True.” Lally hurries on. “Who else, Lettice?”
“Selwyn Spencely, Edward Lambley, Septimius Faversham and Oliver Edgars. I know there are others, but I can’t for the life of me think whom.”
“Goodness! Mamma really is pulling out all the stops this year to make the ball a grand occasion. I don’t think we’ve had that many eligible men in attendance since 1912!”
Lettice gives her elder sister a withering look.
“Will one of those men be your prince, Auntie Tice?” asks Annabelle seriously, gazing up at her aunt. “You are coming as Cinderella to the ball after all, and Cinderella met her prince there.”
“Only if I lose a slipper at the ball, darling.”
“Oh,” Lally huffs as she glances at the baby Jesus statue in the manger from the nativity scene to stand beneath the tree with all the Christmas gifts. “I think I shall be glad to be in confinement for this year’s ball. I could only come dressed as a whale thanks to this one.” She lays a hand caringly upon her swollen stomach.
“A whale!” giggles Annabelle.
“Now that would be funny, Mummy.” chuckles Harrold as he walks over to his mother and places his hand on top of hers. “I should like to see you dance with Daddy dressed as a whale.”
“You must suggest it to him when we go home at the end of the week, darling. Shall I wear a grey satin tea gown then?” Lally smiles as Harrold nods enthusiastically. Looking back to Lettice as she affixes a shimmering bow to the tree she says to her, “I don’t know how you do it, Lettice. After children, and the war, I just don’t have the energy for fancy dress any more.”
“Oh, don’t you start lording your happy marriage to Charles and your children over me, Lally!” Lettice’s footsteps clatter angrily as she descends the library steps and stalks forcefully across the carpet to look for a particular decoration in one of the boxes. Thrusting her hands violently through the contents of one particular box she continues, “I won’t have it! Mamma has been insufferable since I got here, reminding me at every opportunity that I’m not getting any younger, and that you were married by the time you were my age. And then there is all her scheming, inviting every eligible gentleman of good breeding and money to the Hunt Ball for me to be paraded before!”
Sensing the change in mood in the room, Annabelle scuttles away from Lettice and the Christmas tree and cowers by her mother’s side, whilst Harrold places both hands on top of this mother’s instinctively protecting her and the baby from his aunt’s sudden displeasure.
“Please don’t be angry, Aunty Tice,” Annabelle says, her voice cracking as tears well in her eyes. “I don’t like it when you’re angry with Mummy.”
“And it is Christmas,” Harrold adds, looking in concern at Lettice on her knees, scattering colourful glass balls across the drawing room carpet angrily. “No-one should be cross or upset at Christmas, Auntie Tice.”
“Oh!” Lettice looks up from where she is with sad tears, that moments ago had been angry ones, brimming in her eyes. “Oh how clumsy of me. Auntie Tice is sorry my darlings. You’re quite right Harrold. No-one should be cross at Christmas.” She holds out her arms to them and pouts. “Forgive me? Please?”
Harrold walks cautiously over and falls into her arms, which wrap around him tightly as she closes her eyes and puts her head on his shoulders.
“See,” Lally whispers to Annabelle standing at her shoulder. “Auntie Tice isn’t cross anymore. Don’t you think you might go and give her a cuddle?” She looks back to her sister and son embracing and adds more loudly, even though she knows and intends that Lettice should hear every word. “I’m sure that would make her feel even better.”
Tentatively, and with a gentle push from her mother, Anabelle totters forward to where Lettice embraces her too.
“I know, Lettice,” Lally remarks softly. “That when you were a teenager, we really didn’t get along very well.” Lettice looks up defensively, but Lally raises a finger to her lips to silence her sister’s protests so she can continue. “And we have probably never really been that close because of the difference in years between us. However, contrary to what your opinion of me may be, I’m not your enemy, you know?”
“I know,” Lettice murmurs. “It’s just Mamma and her attitudes towards the decisions I’ve made. They make me so cross, Lally.”
“Well, you might not know this,” Lally continues. “In fact, in view of your sudden outburst, I’m quite certain you don’t.”
“Know what, Lally?”
“Mamma always lords your glamorous life in London over me whenever she can, telling me who of this country’s great and good you’ve been socialising with or decorating for, and showing me photos of you in the Tattler, not that I haven’t already seen them for myself.”
“She doesn’t!” Lettice bursts in shock.
“She does,” Lally concurs with a nod. “And she does it because both of us are closer to Pappa than to her.”
“No!”
“Of course that’s the reason. Mamma has always had a jealous streak in her.”
“Well, I never.” Lettice gasps.
“Now you know that her criticism goes both ways. She thinks her secret is safe because she enjoys playing us off against one another, and what’s worse is, I think she actually enjoys creating a divide between us.”
“Lally!”
“It’s true, Lettice. I think in her own perverse way, she hopes that one of us will turn to her one day, rather than Pappa.” She lowers her lids and shakes her head in resigned disbelief. “I don’t quite know why.”
“Oh I’m sorry, Lally.”
“I’m sorry too Lettice.” Lally acknowledges warmly. “So, what say you and I, with this knowledge, ignore Mamma’s criticisms this Christmas, and maybe get to be better friends as adults than we perhaps were as children.”
“Just to spite Mamma?”
“Well, no,” Lally explains. “To help us better understand and support one another. Of course, if it happens to irritate Mamma, then all the better. Truth be told, I’m actually quite proud to have such a successful and glamourous sister.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Lettice says humbly as she blushes with embarrassment and pride.
“A thank you is usual when one is paid a compliment.” Lally adds helpfully with a smile.
“Thank you, Lally.” Lettice says.
“You’re welcome, my glamorous little sister.” Lally answers.
*Columbine is a theatrical character that originated about 1530 in Italian commedia dell'arte as a saucy and adroit servant girl; her Italian name means “Little Dove.”
**Clarkson’s Theatrical Costumier and Wig Maker was located at 41 to 43 Wardour Street in Leicester Square. As theatrical costumier to the Royal Family, Willy Clarkson was born in 1861. He took over his father’s business in 1878 and became highly successful. He provided costumes and wigs for famous actors and actresses of the Victorian and Edwardian era, including Sir Henry Irving, Lillie Langtry and Sarah Bernhardt and for productions by Queen Victoria's family. It was claimed that Will Clarkson created a disguise for the murderer Doctor Crippen. Rumoured to be homosexual, a public lavatory in Soho was known as 'Clarkson's Cottage'.
***Pierrot is a character from the Italian commedia dell'arte. A simpleminded and honest servant, he is usually a young and personable valet. One of the comic servants, or zanni, Pierrot functioned in the commedia as an unsuccessful lover of Columbine and a victim of the pranks of his fellow comedians.
****Hunting pinks is the name given to the traditional scarlet jacket and related attire worn by fox-hunters.
*****An invert is a term coined and popularly used in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries to describe a homosexual.
This year the Flickr Friends Melbourne Group have decided to have a monthly challenge which is submitted on the 5th of every month. This month’s theme is “Christmas”, which was chosen by Beverley. Both Beverley and I share a common love of Christmas, which is a magical time that brings us both great joy, so this scene, using a selection of my large miniatures collection including some very special pieces was a delight for me to spend a few hours creating and photographing.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The Chetwynd Christmas tree, beautifully decorated by Lettice, Harold and Annabelle with garlands, tinsel, bows golden baubles and topped by a sparking gold star is a 1:12 artisan piece. It was hand made by husband and wife artististic team Margie and Mike Balough who own Serendipity Miniatures in Newcomerstown, Ohio.
The gold Christmas garland that graces the fireplace to the right of the photo is a hand made artisan miniature also, and was supplied by the Doll House Shoppe in Tinley Park, Illinois.
The red and green boxes containing hand painted Christmas ornaments were hand made and decorated by artists of Crooked Mile Cottage in America. The silver, red and gold tinsel garlands, and the painted red, yellow, green, gold and silver single baubles that litter the floor, tumble from the boxes and the single one left on the library steps come from various online miniature stockists in Australia and England through E-Bay. The miniature nativity pieces of Jesus in the manger, Mary, Joseph and the Christmas star standing on the carpet in front of the Gossages Dry Soap crate come from an E-Bay stockist of miniatures in Sydney.
The pair of louis heel red slippers comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House in the United Kingdom. They are made of metal.
The fold out concertina Edwardian photo album draped across the gilt Louis settee, the brown photo album with gilt lettering on the end table to the left of the settee and the pile of photos stacked on top of the red photo album are 1:12 size miniatures 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. Therefore, it is a pleasure to give you a glimpse inside a photo album that he has made. To give you an idea of the work that has gone into the album, it has a front and back cover and a concertina of ten coloured pages, and it measure twenty millimetres in height and ten millimetres in width and is only three millimetres thick. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books and photo albums 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. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just one of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!
The red and the blue photo albums also open and contain black pages suitable to stick miniature photographs to. They are fastened closed with a ribbon. They came from Shepherd’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The Palladian console table behind the library steps, with its two golden caryatids and marble top, is one of a pair that were commissioned by me from American miniature artisan Peter Cluff. Peter specialises in making authentic and very realistic high quality 1:12 miniatures that reflect his interest in Georgian interior design. His work is highly sought after by miniature collectors worldwide. This pair of tables are one-of-a-kind and very special to me.
The gilt footstool upon which the red photo album and pile of photographs sit is made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq, but what is particularly special about it is that it has been covered in antique Austrian floral micro petite point by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, which also makes this a one-of-a-kind piece. The artisan who made this says that as one of her hobbies, she enjoys visiting old National Trust Houses in the hope of getting some inspiration to help her create new and exciting miniatures. She saw some beautiful petit point chairs a few years ago in one of the big houses in Derbyshire and then found exquisitely detailed petit point that was fine enough for 1:12 scale projects.
To the left of the photo stands an artisan bonheur de jour (French lady's writing desk). A gift from my Mother when I was in my twenties, she had obtained this beautiful piece from an antique auction. Made in the 1950s of brass it is very heavy. It is set with hand-painted enamel panels featuring Rococo images. Originally part of a larger set featuring a table and chairs, or maybe a settee as well, individual pieces from these hand-painted sets are highly collectable and much sought after. I never knew this until the advent of E-Bay!
The elegant ornaments that decorate the surfaces of the Chetwynd’s palatial drawing room very much reflect the Eighteenth Century spirit of the room.
On the centre of the mantlepiece stands a Rococo carriage clock that has been hand painted and gilded with incredible attention to detail by British 1:12 miniature artisan, Victoria Fasken. To the left of the clock is a porcelain pot of yellow and blue petunias which has been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton. To the left of the vase of petunias is a Staffordshire sheep – one of a pair – which have been hand made, painted and gilded 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 sheep actually has a smile on its face!
Another, larger example of Ann Dalton’s petunia posies stands on the Peter Cluff Palladian console table and is flanked by two mid Victorian (circa 1850) hand painted child’s tea set pieces. The sugar bowl and milk jug have been painted to imitate Sèvres porcelain.
On the bombe chest behind the Louis settee stand a selection of 1950s Limoges miniature tea set pieces which I have had since I was a teenager. Each piece is individually stamped on its base with a green Limoges stamp. Also on the bombe chest sit two Georgian tea caddies which come from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. In the centre of these pieces stands a sterling silver three prong candelabra made by an unknown artisan. They have actually fashioned a putti (cherub) holding the stem of the candelabra. The candles that came with it are also 1:12 artisan pieces and are actually made of wax.
The three piece Louis XV suite of settee and two armchairs was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, JBM.
The library steps are made by an unknown artisan, but have been hand made and was supplied by Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in the United Kingdom.
The Hepplewhite chair with the lemon satin upholstery you can just see behind the Christmas tree was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
All the paintings around the Glynes drawing room in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States and V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, and the wallpaper is an authentic copy of hand-painted Georgian wallpaper of Chinese lanterns from the 1770s.
The Georgian style fireplace I have had since I was a teenager and is made from moulded plaster.
The Persian rug on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company 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. 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 latest client, recently arrived American film actress Wanetta Ward. It is here that Lettice adds the remaining finishing touches to her redecoration of what was once a tired and dated interior.
Knocking loudly on the front door of the flat, Gerald turns the knob and finds the door opens, just as Lettice said it would. “Lettice?” he calls.
“Gerald, is that you?” comes Lettice’s voice from somewhere deep within the flat.
Gerald gasps as he steps across the threshold into the central hallway of the Pimlico flat. He looks about in delight at the beautiful gilded Japanese inspired wallpaper, stylish oriental furniture and sparking chandeliers, all of which are reflected in several long, bevelled mirrors which trick the eye into thinking the vestibule is more spacious than it actually is. “I say, Lettuce Leaf,” he utters in a rapturous voice. “This is divine!”
A soft thump against his thigh breaks his reverie. Looking down he finds the culprit: a long round white embossed satin bolster lies at his feet on the carpet. He stoops to pick it up.
“Stop calling me that, Gerald!” Lettice stands in the doorway to his right, her arms stretched across the frame, arrayed in a smart pale yellow day dress with a lowered waist and handkerchief point hem of his own making. “You know I don’t like it.”
“I know, but I just can’t help it darling! You always rise to the bait.”
“You’re just lucky I only hit you with a bolster, Gerald!” She wags her lightly bejewelled finger at him in a mock warning as she smiles at her old childhood friend.
“And you’re just lucky I didn’t drop the parcel you asked me to pick up from your flat.” He holds up a parcel wrapped up in brown paper, tied with string. “By the way, you look as divine as your interiors, darling.”
“In your design, of course, Gerald.”
“Of course! That’s why you look so divine, Lettice darling!”
“Of course!” She saunters over, her louis heels sinking into the luxurious oriental rug that covers most of the vestibule floor. “May I have my parcel, please Gerald?” She holds out her hands towards the package.
With a sigh of mock frustration, he hands it to her. “Anything else, milady?” He makes an exaggerated bow before her, like a toadying courtier or servant.
“Yes, you can make yourself useful by picking up that errant bolster and follow me.”
“You deserve this and a good deal more for bossing me about!” Gerald playfully picks up the bolster and thwacks it through the air before it lightly connects with Lettice’s lower back, making her squeal. “I come to your aid yet again, as you forget a vital finishing touch for your interior designs.”
Lettice giggles as she turns back to her friend and kittenishly tugs on the bolster, which he tussles back. “I know Gerald! I can’t believe how scatterbrained I was to leave this,” She holds the parcel aloft, hanging from her elegant fingers by the bow of string on the top. “Behind at Cavendish Mews! There has just been so much to organise with this interior design. I’m so pleased that there was a telephone booth I could use on the corner. The telephone has arrived here but hasn’t been collected to the exchange yet.”
“And isn’t it lucky that my fortunes seem to be changing with the orders from Mrs. Middle-of-the-Road-Middle-Class Hatchett and her friends paying for the installation of a telephone, finally, in my frock shop.”
“All the more reason not to deride Mrs. Hatchett, or her friends.”
“And,” Gerald speaks over his friend, determined not to be scolded again about his names for Mrs. Hatchett by her. “Wasn’t it lucky that I was in Grosvenor Street to take your urgent call.”
“It was!” she enthuses in a joking way.
“And the fact that I just happen to have the Morris*…”
She cuts his sentence off by saying with a broad smile, “Is the icing on the cake, Gerald darling! You are such a brick! Now, be honest, you’ve been longing to see this interior. You’ve been dropping hints like briquettes for the last week!”
Gerald ignores her good-natured dig at his nosiness. “Of course! I’m always interested in what my dearest friend is doing to build up her business.” Looking around again, a feeling of concern clouds his face. “I just hope this one pays, unlike some duchesses I could mention. This looks rather luxurious and therefore, costly I suspect.”
“Don’t worry Gerald, this nouveau riche parvenu is far more forthcoming with regular cheques to cover the costs, and never a quibble over price.”
“That’s a mercy! I suppose there is that reliability about the middle-classes. Mr. Hatchett always settles my account without complaint, or procrastination. Indeed, all her friends’ husbands do.” He looks again at the brown paper parcel in Lettice’s hand. “I see that comes from Ada May Wong. What’s inside.”
“Come with me, darling Gerald, on the beginning of your tour of Miss Ward’s flat,” she beckons to her friend with a seductive, curling finger and a smile. “And all will be revealed.”
Gerald follows Lettice through a boudoir, which true to her designs was a fantasy of oriental brocade and gilded black japanned furniture, and into a smaller anti-room off it.
“Miss Wanetta Ward’s dressing room.” Lettice announces, depositing the box on a small rosewood side table and spreading her arms expansively.
“Oh darling!” Gerald enthuses breathlessly as she looks about the small room.
Beautiful gold wallpaper embossed with large flowers and leaves entwining cover the walls, whilst a thick Chinese rug covers the parquetry floor. Around the room are furnishings of different eras and cultures, which in the wrong arrangement might jar, but under Lettice’s deft hand fit elegantly together. Chinese Screens and oriental furniture sit alongside select black japanned French chinoiserie pieces from the Eighteenth Century. White French brocade that matches the bolster Gerald holds are draped across a Japanese chaise lounge. Satsuma and cloisonné vases stand atop early Nineteenth Century papier-mâché tables and stands.
“So, you like it then?” Lettice asks her friend.
“It’s like being in some sort of divine genie’s bottle!” Gerald exclaims as he places the bolster on the daybed where it obviously belongs and clasps his hands in ecstasies, his eyes illuminated by exhilaration at the sight. “This is wonderful!”
“And not too gauche or showy?”
Gerald walks up to the chinoiserie dressing table and runs his hands along its slightly raised pie crust edge, admiring the fine painting of oriental scenes beneath the crystal perfume bottles and the gold dressing table set. “You know, when you suggested using gold wallpaper, I must confess I did cringe a little inside. It sounds rather gauche, but I also thought that might suit an up-and-coming film actress.”
“I remember you telling me so.” Lettice acknowledges.
“However, I must now admit that this is not at all what I was expecting. It’s decadent yes, but not showy. It’s elegant and ever so luxurious.” He traces a pattern of a large daisy’s petal in the raised embossing of the wallpaper. “This must have cost a fortune, Lettice!”
“There is a reason why this is the only room decorated with this paper, Gerald.”
“So, what’s in the box that is the finishing touch for in here?” Gerald asks, looking around. “As far as I can tell, there isn’t anything lacking.” He looks at the silvered statue of a Chinese woman holding a child on the right-hand back corner of the dressing table, her face and the child’s head nuzzled into his mother’s neck reflected in the black and gilt looking glass. “It seems you’re even providing Miss Ward with dressing table accessories.”
“Ah, yes,” Lettice remarks as she takes a pair of scissors and cuts the string on the parcel. “Well, that was Miss Ward’s request, not mine. She wanted a dressing table set to match the dressing room. She says that she will keep her existing set in her dressing room at Islington Studios**. The bottles of perfume she had sent over the other day. Which brings me to what’s in the parcel!”
Lettice removed the brown paper wrapping, the paper tearing noisily. Opening the box inside, she rummages through layers of soft whispering tissue paper and withdraws a large, lidded bowl with an exotic bird on the lid and a pattern of flowers around the bowl.
“It’s Cantonese Famille Rose,” she explains to her friend. “And it will serve as Miss Ward’s new container for her trademark bead and pearl necklaces.”
She walks across the small space to the dressing table and places it on the back left-hand corner. Standing back, she sighs with satisfaction, pleased with her placement of it.
“Now, let me give you a tour of the rest of the flat, Gerald.” Lettice says happily.
“Oh!” her companion remarks suddenly, a hand rising to his mouth anxiously. “I almost forgot!”
“Forgot what, Gerald?”
“This.” Gerald reaches into the pocket of his black coat and withdraws a small buff coloured envelope which he hands over to Lettice. “Edith gave it to me to give to you since I was coming over here. She thought it might be important.”
Lettice looks quizzically at the envelope. “A telegram?”
“Apparently, it arrived a quarter of an hour after you left this morning.”
Lettice uses the sharp blade of the scissors to slice the thin paper of the envelope. Her face changes first to concentration as she reads the message inside, and then a look of concern clouds her pretty features as she digests what it says.
“Not bad news, I trust.”
“It’s from the Pater.” Lettice replies simply as she holds it out for Gerald to read.
“Lettice,” Gerald reads. “Come to Glynes*** without delay. Prepare to stay overnight. Do not procrastinate. Father…”
“I wonder what he wants?” Lettice ponders, gnawing on her painted thumbnail as she accepts the telegram back with her free hand.
“Only your father would use a word like procrastinate in a telegram. It must be important if he wants you to go down without delay.” Gerald ruminates.
“And we were going to the Café Royal**** for dinner tonight!” Lettice whines.
“I’m the one who should be complaining, darling. After all you are my meal ticket there! Don’t worry, the Café Royal will still be here when you get back from Wiltshire, whatever happens down there. I’ll be waiting here too. I’d offer to drive you down tomorrow, but I have several dress fittings booked for tomorrow, including one for Margot’s wedding dress.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Lettice flaps Gerald’s offer away with her hand. “I’ll take the train and have Harris pick me up from the railway station in the village.” She folds the telegram back up again and slips it back into the envelope before depositing it into one of the discreet pockets Gerald had designed on the front of her dress. “Come, let’s not let this spoil the occasion.” She smiles bravely at her friend, although he can still see the concern clouding her eyes. “Let me give you a guided tour of the rest of the flat.”
“Lead the way!” Gerald replies, adding extra joviality to his statement, even though he knows that it sounds false.
The pair leave Miss Ward’s dressing room as Lettice begins to show Gerald around the other rooms.
*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.
**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.
***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.
****The Café Royal in Regent Street, Piccadilly was originally conceived and set up in 1865 by Daniel Nicholas Thévenon, who was a French wine merchant. He had to flee France due to bankruptcy, arriving in Britain in 1863 with his wife, Célestine, and just five pounds in cash. He changed his name to Daniel Nicols and under his management - and later that of his wife - the Café Royal flourished and was considered at one point to have the greatest wine cellar in the world. By the 1890s the Café Royal had become the place to see and be seen at. It remained as such into the Twenty-First Century when it finally closed its doors in 2008. Renovated over the subsequent four years, the Café Royal reopened as a luxury five star hotel.
Luxurious it may be, but this upper-class interior is not all that it seems, for it is made up entirely of items from my 1:12 miniatures collection. Some of the pieces I have had since I was a child, whilst others I have acquired in the subsequent years from specialist doll house stockists and online artisans and retailers.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The beautiful black japanned and gilded chinoiserie dressing table which is hand decorated with on its surface with an oriental scene, was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
On the dressing table’s surface there is a gilt pewter dressing table set consisting of comb, hairbrushes and hand mirror, the latter featuring a real piece of mirror set into it. This set was given to me as a gift one Christmas when I was around seven years old. These small pieces have survived the tests of time and survived without being lost, even though they are tiny.
There is a selection of sparkling perfume bottles on Wanetta’s dressing table too, which are handmade by an English artisan for the Little Green Workshop. Made of cut coloured crystals set in a gilt metal frames or using vintage cut glass beads they look so elegant and terribly luxurious.
The Cantonese Famille Rose export ware lidded jar I have had since I was a teenager. I bought it from a high street dolls house specialty shop. It has been hand painted and decorated, although I am not sure as to whom the artist is that created it. Famille rose, (French: “rose family”) group of Chinese porcelain wares characterized by decoration painted in opaque overglaze rose colours, chiefly shades of pink and carmine. These colours were known to the Chinese as yangcai (“foreign colours”) because they were first introduced from Europe (about 1685).
The stylised silvered statue of a Chinese woman carrying her child is an unusual 1:12 artisan figurine, which I acquired along with a range of other metal statues from Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in the United Kingdom.
The looking glass hanging on the wall, whilst appearing to be joined to the Bespaq chinoiserie table, is another piece from my childhood. It is actually a small pink plastic framed looking glass. The handle broke off long ago, and I painted in black and gilded it to give it a Regency look. I think it matches the table very nicely, as I’m sure Lettice would have thought too!
The blue and gold vase featuring lilac coloured wisteria on the far left of the photo is really a small Satsuma export ware vase from the late Nineteenth or early Twentieth Century. It is four centimetres in height and was the first piece of Satsuma ware I ever owned. I have had it since I was eight. Satsuma ware (薩摩焼, Satsuma-yaki) is a type of Japanese pottery originally from Satsuma Province, southern Kyūshū. Today, it can be divided into two distinct categories: the original plain dark clay early Satsuma (古薩摩, Ko-Satsuma) made in Satsuma from around 1600, and the elaborately decorated export Satsuma (京薩摩, Kyō-Satsuma) ivory-bodied pieces which began to be produced in the nineteenth century in various Japanese cities. By adapting their gilded polychromatic enamel overglaze designs to appeal to the tastes of western consumers, manufacturers of the latter made Satsuma ware one of the most recognized and profitable export products of the Meiji period.
The oxblood cloisonné vase with floral panels to the left of the dressing table I bought, along with its pair, from the Camberwell Market in Melbourne many years ago. The elderly woman who sold them to me said that her father had bought them in Peking before he left there in the 1920s. She believed they were containers for opium. The stoppers with tiny, long spoons which she said she remembered as a child had long since gone missing. Cloisonné is an ancient technique for decorating metalwork objects. In recent centuries, vitreous enamel has been used, and inlays of cut gemstones, glass and other materials were also used during older periods. The resulting objects can also be called cloisonné. The decoration is formed by first adding compartments (cloisons in French) to the metal object by soldering or affixing silver or gold wires or thin strips placed on their edges. These remain visible in the finished piece, separating the different compartments of the enamel or inlays, which are often of several colours. Cloisonné enamel objects are worked on with enamel powder made into a paste, which then needs to be fired in a kiln. The Japanese produced large quantities from the mid Nineteenth Century, of very high technical quality cloisonné. In Japan cloisonné enamels are known as shippō-yaki (七宝焼). Early centres of cloisonné were Nagoya during the Owari Domain. Companies of renown were the Ando Cloisonné Company. Later centres of renown were Edo and Kyoto. In Kyoto Namikawa became one of the leading companies of Japanese cloisonné.
The Chinese folding screen to the left of the photo I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was. Reflected in the mirror is a matching screen with different patterns on it, in this case vases of stylised Japanese flowers, which I recently acquired through a seller on E-Bay.
Also reflected in the mirror is a wooden Chinese dragon chair. It is one of a pair, which together with their matching low table I found in a little shop in Singapore whilst I was holiday there. They are beautifully carved from cherrywood.
The gold embossed wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend who encouraged me to use it as wallpaper for my 1:12 miniature tableaux.