View allAll Photos Tagged XmasCard
Sincerest seasonal wishes to all Flickr friends and their families. "Peace on earth and goodwill to all."
Dick and Olive Hook were suppliers to Camp Mazinaw during the 1970s and always looked forward to Christmas cards from 'The Mazinaw Tribe'. Featured in the photo is expert canoeist 'Blackie' (Reginaud Blackstock). The Camp operated from 1940 to 1986.
Part of the Richard and Olive Hook Album
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Grab your hangover cures, it's getting dangerously close to Office Christmas Party season...
Originally for ASOS Man magazine.
See Rod's where's waldo / wally-style illustration portfolio
© Rod Hunt 2010
View Rod Hunt's Portfolio here
1935 London Passenger Transport Board Staff Christmas card which was issued to staff with the Pennywise LPTB staff magazine for November 1935.
calenders available at lulu.com (all proceeds help find homes for every one of those xmascard rellies in the previous snap. we thank you)
... and if not well... I hope you can go and buy whatever you want :D
MERRY CHRISTMAS my dear Flickr Friends!!!! Thank you for all the help and support during all this 2008 and I wish you all the best for 2009!!!
Strobist:
Shoot-through Umbrella with a 580ex (at 1/32) to camera right and a gridded 430ex to camera left and at the back.
Sorry for posting a day late ! easy choice as I only made this card.
I'm a bit earlier than normal, I made this for an assignment and I liked it so much that I ordered the card too!
Each year I used to make two cards, one with Xziva and one with a photo I liked.
Last year I decided to mix them up, I also like adding a meaningful quote.
Don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission !!!
© all rights reserved Lily aenee
Happy Holidays to you all..I'm maybe a little early, but I am getting into the Xmas mood...
I love you all...you have made this last year and a half a great time for me..
you have taken Smokey, Jessie and Sukie into your hearts and have been the very best of friends to us all....
THANK YOU ..:)))))))
CARDS FROM:
Defenders of Wilflife
I think we'll go with this one, though I do have another idea to try. The hat will be stuck on in the final card, I just needed in the picture to get a sense of what it will look like.
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.
For nearly a year Lettice has been patiently awaiting the return of her beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, after being sent to Durban by his mother, Lady Zinnia in an effort to destroy their relationship which she wanted to end so that she could marry Selwyn off to his cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers. Now Lettice has been made aware by Lady Zinnia that during the course of the year, whilst Lettice has been biding her time, waiting for Selwyn’s eventual return, he has become engaged to the daughter of a Kenyan diamond mine owner whilst in Durban. Fleeing Lady Zinnia’s Park Lane mansion, Lettice returned to Cavendish mews and milled over her options over a week as she reeled from the news. Then, after that week, she knew exactly what to do to resolve the issues raised by Lady Zinnia’s unwelcome news about her son. Taking extra care in her dress, she took herself off to the neighbouring upper-class London suburb of Belgravia and paid a call upon Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.
Old enough to be her father, wealthy Sir John is still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intends to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. As an eligible man in a aftermath of the Great War when such men are a rare commodity, with a vast family estate in Bedfordshire, houses in Mayfair, Belgravia and Pimlico and Fontengil Park in Wiltshire, quite close to the Glynes estate belonging to her parents, Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, invited him as a potential suitor to her 1922 Hunt Ball, which she used as a marriage market for Lettice. Selwyn rescued Lettice from the horror of having to entertain him, and Sir John left the ball early in a disgruntled mood with a much younger partygoer. Lettice recently reacquainted herself with Sir John at an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by Sir John and Lady Gladys Caxton at their Scottish country estate, Gossington, a baronial Art and Crafts castle near the hamlet of Kershopefoot in Cumberland. To her surprise, Lettice found Sir John’s company rather enjoyable. She then ran into him again at the Portland Gallery’s autumn show where she found him yet again to be a pleasant and attentive companion for much of the evening.
Sir John also made a proposition to her that night: he offered her his hand in marriage should she ever need it. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them. Turning up unannounced on his doorstep, she agreed to his proposal after explaining that the understanding between she and Selwyn was concluded. However, in an effort to be discreet, at Lettice’s insistence, they are not making their engagement public until the new year: after the dust about Selwyn’s break of his and Lettice’s engagement settles. So Lettice and Sir John are going on about their separate lives, but in the lead up to Christmas they invariably end up running into one another at the last mad rush of parties before everyone who hasn’t already decamps to the country to celebrate Christmas.
Tonight, we are in the drawing room of Cavendish Mews, where Lettice is entertaining her elder sister Lalage (known to everyone in the family by the diminutive Lally). Lally, who resides with her husband Charles Lanchenbury and their two children, Harrold and Annabelle, at Dorrington House, a smart Jacobean manor house of the late 1600s in High Wycome in the country of Buckinghamshire, has come up to London to do her Christmas shopping, and access the larger range of shops and Oxford Street department stores mot afforded to her in the country. Rather than motor up and then back to High Wycombe the same day, Lally is stopping the night with Lettice after the two siblings have spent the day shopping together. Tomorrow Lally will motor down to Wiltshire to their parents and drop off all hers and Lettice’s gifts for their annual family Christmas together at their country family seat before motoring back to Buckinghamshire. Just by good fortune, Lettice is going to one of the last big Christmas parties of 1924, and knowing the host and hostess very well, being part of her Embassy Club coterie, she has wrangled an invitation for Lally to attend too. Now the two, both dressed up in beautiful and delicate evening frocks and bedecked in jewels, with their hair freshly coiffed and set by a fashionable West End hairdresser, sit chatting, sipping champagne and cooling their heels before attending the party at a fashionably late respectable time.
“I say, Tice darling!” Lally remarks as she looks at the pink salmon mousse in the shape of a fish sprinkled with thinly slice cucumber and garnished with lemon wedges on the low black japanned coffee table between she and her sister. “This is all rather splendid!”
“Oh there’s more to come,” Lettice replies, picking up a sparking glass of champagne which almost blends into her silvery grey silk crêpe gown adorned with silver and gold sequins. “Edith is just bringing it now.”
“To use one of the phrases of the moment that you and your fashionable friends love, ‘how ripping’!” Lally replies, picking up her own glass and sipping the sparkling golden liquid from it.
“That’s the spirit, Lally darling! You’ll fit in perfectly tonight.” Lettice replies encouragingly.
“I must say, this is awfully good of you, Tice.”
“What is, Lally?”
“Well, all of this.” Lally replies, stretching her arms elegantly and gesticulating at the festively decorated drawing room around them with its bright Christmas tree covered in shining glass baubles surrounded by a mountain of presents, and garland draped fireplace covered in Christmas cards.
“What? The decorations?” Lettice asks. “But I would have decorated for Christmas , even if you weren’t coming, Lally darling.”
“No Tice!” Lally hisses in reply. “Not the decorations. I’m so grateful to you for allowing me to come and stay here tonight after my shopping expeditions to buy presents for the children and the rest of the family, not to mention the last minute invitation to the party.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to let my sister stay in a London hotel when there is a perfectly good spare bedroom here.” Lettice retorts.
“I mean, I know I could have motored back to Buckinghamshire after we’d finished shopping today, but it’s so much easier just to stay in town overnight.”
“Of course it is, Lally.” Lettice agrees. “Don’t give it another thought. And as for the party,” She wafts her hand breezily. “It was simple to get you an invitation. It helps when you know both the hosts intimately.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to motor you down to Glynes* tomorrow, Tice?”
“No thank you, Lally,” Lettice declines. “Thank you all the same. I’m sure you won’t want me in the car with you tomorrow, all grumpy and woolly headed, nursing a beasty hangover after all the excesses of tonight. I plan on getting rather tight** tonight, since George and Cilla are footing the drinks bill.”
“Well, perhaps not, since you put it that way, Tice.”
“Besides, I doubt there would be room enough in your little Baby Austin*** for me as well as both your presents and mine for the family Christmas.” She nods in the direction of the pile of presents sitting underneath her Christmas tree all wrapped up in bright festive metallic papers and gaily coloured ribbons, and several very full bags from some of London’s best department stores.
“Yes, we did shop up quite a storm today, didn’t we?” Lally remarks a little guiltily.
“More you than me, Lally darling. I’ve already done most of my Christmas shopping.”
“Well, it’s too much of a temptation, isn’t it Tice? There are so many more wonderful shops here in London than there are in the counties, not to mention the department stores.”
“It was rather fun luncheoning at Derry and Tom’s**** café today.” Lettice smiles, casting her mind back to earlier in the day when the pair of them were ensconced in a cosy nook at a quiet table for two at the Kensington department store, with the table before them laid with fine white napery, gilt edged china, glinting silverware and gleaming glassware, with the hubbub of quiet and polite, predominantly female, chatter drifting around them as Edwardian matrons and their daughters or other well-heeled young women enjoyed a fine repast just like them between their Christmas shopping excursions.
At that moment, Edith, Lettice’s maid, slips through the green baize door that leads from the service area of the flat into the dining room, carrying a silver tray on which stands a bowl of gleaming black caviar, a plate holding an assortment of watercracker biscuits and another upon which stand an array of very smart looking canapés. She walks purposefully across the dining room and into the drawing room, lowering the tray onto the coffee table between the two sisters as they chat, gently pushing aside several cheerfully wrapped presents to make room for it.
“Not that High Wycombe feels like the country so much anymore,” Lally goes on. “What with those ghastly Metroland estates full of endless streets of mind numbingly matching two-up two-down***** rows of houses being developed up and down the railway line, chewing up the beautiful English countryside.”
Edith’s hands shake as a sudden shudder runs through her, making the plates and cutlery on the tray rattle noisily.
“I’m sure we’ll have a department store built in the high street before too long, what with the influx of commuters to London pouring into High Wycombe every weekday.”
“Are you alright, Edith?” Lettice asks in concern, reaching out a hand and grasping her maid’s shoulder.
As if struck with a hot poker, Edith quickly stands up and brushes down her lace trimmed afternoon uniform apron and her black silk moiré dress. “Yes Miss.” She replies stiffly. “I beg your pardon Miss,” She bobs a small curtsey and then turns to Lally and does the same. “Mrs. Lanchenbury.”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s nothing to forgive, Edith.” Lally replies kindly as she sinks back into the comfortable rounded back of one of the Lettice’s Art Deco tub armchairs.
“Indeed, there isn’t.” Lettice assures her maid. She looks into her pretty face and notices that Edith’s peaches and cream complexion looks a little pale. “Are you quite sure you’re alright, Edith?”
“Oh yes Miss!” Edith replies quickly. “It was just someone walking over my grave.”
“Well, let’s hope its not one of the three ghosts of Christmas.” Lettice chuckles, smiling wistfully as she remembers she and Edith sitting down to listen to a dramatised recording of Charles Dickens classic novella ‘A Christmas Carol’ on her new wireless, a gift from Selwyn Spencely, in December last year******.
“Oh indeed, Miss.” Edith smiles shyly as she agrees.
“Oh, and thank you for putting up with me for tonight,” Lally pipes up quickly. “And all of my,” She waves her hand laconically at all the presents spread about the flat’s drawing room. “My acquisitions.”
“Oh that’s quite alright, Mrs, Lanchenbury.” Edith assures her. “No bother at all.”
“That’s kind of you, Edith.” Lally acknowledges. “I’m sure I make extra, unnecessary work for you. And I really do appreciate it.”
The sisters watch as Edith withdraws and slips quickly behind the green baize door and back to her preserve of the Cavendish Mews kitchen.
“Do you think she’s really alight, Tice darling?” Lally asks with concern. “She looked a little pale.”
“Oh I think so, Lally. I noticed that too. But I think, like the rest of us, she’s just tired as the year comes to an end. Although she won’t admit it, I think she’s quietly quite looking forward to me going home to Glynes, so that she can go home and spend a lovely Christmas with her own family. She tells me that her steward brother has shore leave again this year.”
“I do hope I’m not being too much of an inconvenience, Tice darling.” Lally goes on, once they think Edith is safely out of earshot. “I know how hard it is to get good help these days, and maids can be so temperamental nowadays.”
“Oh, you’re no more a bother to Edith than you are to me, Lally darling. And if you were, you’re certainly making it up to me at any rate by taking my gifts down to Glynes with you.”
“It’s my pleasure, Tice.” Lally smiles at her sister. “Anyway, it makes sense. If I’m going to take most of the presents down there to avoid the children fossicking for them before Christmas at home, it makes sense to take yours down with me too.”
“Well, I am most awfully grateful, Lally darling.”
“So, when are you going down to stay with Mamma and Pappa then?”
“I’ve arranged to motor down with Gerald on the twenty second. When are you, Charles and the children going?”
“Well, we’ll be there before you. I’m taking the children and Nanny down on the twentieth. Charles will follow on the twenty second like you. He has some final business with Lord Lanchenbury before Christmas, whereas my last duty with the High Wycome WI******* for 1924 is to give my treasurer’s report to Mrs. Alsop.” Lally pulls a face. “On the eighteenth.”
“The ghastly gossip and bore, Mrs. Alsop!” Lettice deposits her glass back onto the coffee table and raises her hands to her cheeks in mock horror s she pulls a sad face.
“Oh you!” Lally hisses with a cheeky smile. “You wouldn’t be so glib about ghastly Mrs. Alsop if you’d met her, Tice,” She nods seriously as her lips crumple disapprovingly.
“Well, mercifully Aunt Egg saved me from that fait accompli when she organsied the invitation to the Caxton’s Friday to Monday party at Gossington in Scotland,” Lettice remarks, before adding, “Not that that didn’t have ramifications of its own, in due course.”
“Indeed.” Lally replies sagely, her head bobbing up and down slowly.
“Mind you, I did receive a Christmas card from Gladys and John in the post the other day.”
“You didn’t!” Lally gasps in surprise.
“I did!”
Lettice stands up and walks over to the mantelpiece, cluttered with a dozen or so gaily coloured cards, all stylised in the simple lines of the Art Deco aesthetic movement that is swiftly becoming fashionable as the decade of 1920s moves forward. She fishes out a card hidden towards the back featuring a Christmas tree lined laneway at night with a car motoring down it. The car’s two beaming headlights and the crescent moon above are painted in gold paint which has also been used on the ‘Season’s Greetings’ written in bold text at the bottom of the card. She hands it to Lally who flips it open.
“’Best wishes to you and your family this festive season’,” Lally reads aloud. “’And a happy 1925 from Gladys and John.’” She closes the card and hands it back with an edge of distaste to Lettice, who slips it back behind a card featuring two bright red poinsettias on a blue background. “Well, it’s cursory, but not unpleasant.” Lally pronounces. “That’s somewhat of a turn up for the books, I must say!”
“Oh, I don’t think it was actually written by Gladys.” Lettice replies, returning to her seat and picking up her glass of champagne. “I think her dragon of a personal secretary, Miss Goodwyn, did it and simply gave it to Gladys and John to sign.”
“Yes, but she didn’t have to send you a card at all, did she, Tice darling?”
“I suppose not, but I think she knows that Phoebe and I have developed a friendship… mmm… of sorts… since that afternoon tea at Aunt Egg’s.”
“Is Pheobe finally starting to come out of her shell, now that she’s not under Lady Glady’s roof so much?”
“Since I set things right at her Ridgmount Gardens pied-à-terre********, yes.” Lettice replies with a satisficed smile. “I mean, she’ll never be frightfully outgoing, and I’d never call her one of my bosom friends*********, but Phoebe is actually turning out to be a rather pleasant companion, in a quiet and more reserved way. At least she expresses her opinions more readily now, and being on the quieter side, I’ve discovered that she is very good at observing people and noticing little things that others don’t.”
“Well that’s good.”
“Yes, it is rather.”
“Well, I must say this looks awfully jolly and festive.” Lally remarks, looking at the brightly coloured canapés and sleek black caviar on the silver tray. “Now, Tice darling, you must tell me all about this Christmas party we’re going to tonight.”
“Oh, well it isn’t strictly a Christmas party as such, Lally darling.” Lettice corrects her sister politely as she puts down her glass and picks up a thin watercracker biscuit which she smothers in glistening black caviar. She then deposits the silver spoon back into the bowl and passes the caviar lavished cracker to her sister.
“Thank you, Tice.” Lally says, accepting the watercracker gratefully. “It isn’t?”
“No. This is more of a transatlantic set, you see, what with Georgie being American and Cilla being British.” Lettice fixes herself a caviar smothered watercracker biscuit. “So, tonight is more of an amalgam of celebrations.”
“And amalgam?” Lally bites into the caviar and sighs with pleasure.
“Yes. It’s a Thanksgiving Christmas party, combining the American tradition of Thanksgiving with our Christmas traditions.”
“Then why can’t it be a Christmas Thanksgiving party, since it’s being celebrated here in England?” She finishes the caviar.
“Do have a canapés,” Lettice remarks, picking up the plate and holding it out to Lally. “They’re rather good.” As Lally accepts one from the proffered plate she goes on, “Well, firstly, Thanksgiving is celebrated before Christmas in late November********** apparently so it takes precedence, and secondly, it is technically Georgie’s party,” She takes a canapé for herself. ‘So he can call it whatever he likes, can’t he?”
“Oh these are jolly scrumptious!” Lally enthuses as she consumes the dainty canapé delicately.
“Do have another, Lally darling!” Lettice encourages, picking up the plate and passing it to her sister. “Help yourself. Eat up!”
Lally reaches over and accepts the plate gratefully. She selects another one. She pauses for a moment and thinks. “However, I don’t see why we need to eat so heartily before we attend this party of yours we’re going to, whatever it’s called. Isn’t there going to be any food?”
Lettice lifts her head fall backwards as she laughs lightly at her sister’s remark. “You’ve never been to one of the Carter’s parties before.” she says knowingly. “It’s not like Mater’s Hunt Balls with the local landed county gentry, where it’s all ‘no, after you’ politeness and no-one takes more than they need. Georgie is American, and frightfully well off thanks to things they call dry goods stores.”
Lally laughs. “What on earth are those?”
“I wish I knew.” Lettice laughs. “Gerald and I have been trying to get to the bottom of what they are ever since Cilla and Georgie got married.” She takes another sip of champagne before continuing. “Anyway, as a result of his dry goods store money, and Cilla’s positive obsession at acquiring as many new friends as possible now that she is rich, every acquaintance and hanger-on in London will be in attendance tonight, and believe me, when the food comes out, it’s like a pack of vultures swooping. We’ll be lucky if we get a few pieces of canapés each. So eat up!”
“How frightful!” Lally remarks, popping another canapé in her mouth and taking another from the plate before handing it back to Lettice, who places it back on the table.
“It is rather, but only when it comes to food, Lally darling.” Lettice lavishes another watercracker with caviar. “Georgie and Cilla’s ballroom in their Park Lane*********** mansion is to die for! It’s all Palladian columns, gilding and polished parquetry beneath crystal chandeliers they bought for a song from an old rundown château in the south of France whilst they were on their honeymoon.”
“Rather!” Lally exclaims.
“Old Philadelphia money also pays for the hottest new dance bands.” Lettice remarks conspiratorially before eating the caviar covered watercracker.
“Who will be performing tonight?” Lally asks excitedly.
“Only the Savoy Havana Band************!” Lettice enthuses, clapping her bejewelled hands.
“Heavens! How thrilling!”
“Georgie has paid goodness knows how much to Wilfred de Mornys************* for them to perform tonight! It’s going to be a whizzer of a party, Lally darling!” She takes a canapé and bites into it before continuing on. “And, for all Georgie and Cilla’s hangers-on, tonight will be the last big event of the 1924 Season, so we’ll be sure to be mixing with some very smart and select people: interesting and influential types, you know the sort, not to mention the brightest of the Bright Young Things**************.”
“Oh, I’m far too old to be mixing with the likes of them, Tice.” Lally scoffs with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That’s more your set. I’ll just blend into the background and be a wallflower tonight.”
“Nonsense Lally! You’ll do nothing of the sort!” Lettice retorts, looking her sister up and down, appraising her blonde hair, admittedly streaked with a few silver greys, set in a stylish cascade of waves and pinned elegantly in a chignon at the back of her neck, dressed in one of Gerald’s beaded evening frocks in striking French blue************** borrowed from Lettice’s wardrobe, diamonds sparkling at her ears and two strands of pearls encircling her neck. “You can hold your own with them. Anyway, I’ll introduce you and they’ll love the fact that you’re my elder sister.” She finishes her canapé. “They will grill you for dreadful stories of me misbehaving from childhood that they can then dine out on in the New Year, so best you try and remember my most ghastly exploits.”
“Like when you put a frog from the ornamental lake in Nanny Webb’s apron?” Lally giggles.
“That’s the ticket, Lally darling!”
“And you don’t mind?” Lally picks up a watercracer and adds a smaller amount of black caviar to it than her sister’s servings.
“My dear Lally, I relish it! There’s nothing more boring than not being spoken about.” She rolls her eyes.
“I should have thought that with that ghastly cad, Selwyn Spencely, breaking off your engagement like that, that being spoken about would be the last thing you’d want.”
Lettice doesn’t answer for a moment, but then replies, “Well, that’s why I need people to talk about and ask me about anything other than that. I don’t want people’s pity, least of all any of Cilla’s hangers-on, who don’t know me from a bar of soap****************.”
The sisters fall into an awkward silence. Lettice toys with the spoon sitting atop the caviar idly.
“You know, you really are being most frightfully decent about all that beastly business with Lady Zinnia,” Lally finally says, breaking the sudden, smothering quiet engulfing the siblings. “And Selwyn not even having the decency to come back and tell you that he’s engaged to someone else, himself!”
“Oh,” Lettice replies breezily, waving Lally’s remark away with a dismissive sweep. “I mean, it was never definite that Selwyn was going to come back to me. And with Selwyn’s absence for a year, I didn’t feel this ending quite so acutely, as I did his departure.” she lies.
“Oh but we’d all so hoped that it would work out: Mamma, Pappa, Leslie, Charles, all of us, really.”
“Not Aunt Egg.” Lettice counters.
“Well, Aunt Egg doesn’t believe in marriage, but all the same, she only wants your happiness.”
“Well,” Lettice rubs her hands together, flicking crumbs of golden puff pastry from the canapes on the Chinese silk carpet at her feet. “It’s done now, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Be that as it may,” Lally adds. “I have no doubt that you have something up your sleeve.”
“What do you mean?” Lettice asks as she sits up with a start, suddenly very alert as to what her sister is saying.
“Oh, nothing, Tice darling. Don’t worry!” Lally chuckles languidly. “I only meant that you won’t let the grass grow beneath your feet. You’ll have some plan or other to stop yourself from sitting idly by and missing Selwyn. A new interior design project or some such for the new year.”
Lettice longs to confide in her elder sister about her recent secret engagement to Sir John Nettleford-Hughes. Although the two siblings have not always been the closest, thanks largely to the selfish and jealous actions of their mother, Lady Sadie, who forced a rift between them by setting up cases of one-upmanship, now that they are aware of this and no longer play into Lady Sadie’s emotional clutches, they have become close again, so it pains Lettice not to be honest with Lally. However, she knows that not only would Lally consider her sudden engagement on the heels of Selwyn’s abandonment of her rather rash, but that Lally dislikes Sir John, and Lettice suspects that if she knew about it, she would try relentlessly to get Lettice to break off her engagement. She knows that her reasoning behind keeping her engagement a secret until after the dust settles on her break with Selwyn is wise and sound, so she keeps her own counsel and remains silent on the matter of her engagement.
Lally gets up from her seat and wanders over to the fireplace, warming herself by the glowing wood fire as it crackles pleasurably as she picks up the cards and reads whom they are from inside.
“Mrs. Hatchett?” She foists a card with a little black Scottish terrier in a hamper tied with a pink bow on the front before Lettice. “Isn’t she the wife of that Labour politician who was part of Ramsay MacDonald’s short-lived minority Labour government?”
“Charles Hatchett? Yes. I decorated the Hatchett’s house in Sussex back in 1921, and Mrs. Hatchett still sends me a Christmas card every year.”
“Thank God the country came to its senses and the Conservatives won the general election in October. We’re back to normal politically again.”
Lettice doesn’t reply as Lally continues to peruse the cards.
“Oh-ho!” Lally chuckles, holding up one featuring a painting of a pair of brightly coloured wooden dolls in festive Art Deco version of Victorian style outfits. “Pappa would habe you hung, drawn and quartered as a traitor if he knew you were in receipt of correspondence from the film star Wanetta Ward.”
“Why?” Lettice gasps. “I decorated her flat too.”
“Yes,” Lally muses. “I remember, and I remember all the stink that came about because you deliberately failed to tell Mamma and Pappa about it.” She wags her finger accusing at her sister, yet the impish smile on her face confirms that she isn’t in the last cross with Lettice.
“Well, I knew they wouldn’t approve,” Lettice defends. “And I wanted her as a client. She’s very high profile, and she boosted my own business profile with my decoration of her flat.”
“Yes, well, lets hope Pappa has forgotten about it.”
“Why is he suddenly even more vehemently against Miss Ward than he was when I decorated her flat? I held to the promise I made to him then. I haven’t decorated any more, and I quote, ‘unsuitable actress’’ houses since I did hers.”
“Didn’t Mamma write and tell you?” Lally asks.
“No. Tell me what?”
“Marsen’s gone.” Lally replies, referring to the Chetwynd family’s footman, who always faithfully opens the front door and carries Lettice’s bags when she visits Glynes.
“Gone? Gone where? Gone when?”
“He left about two weeks ago apparently,” Lally replies, replacing the card on the mantle. “After he came to London on one of his days off.”
“What has that to do with Wanetta Ward, Lally darling?”
“Everything, Tice!” Lally replies with a light hearted laugh. “He saw that awful cardboard costume cutout picture of hers set in London when the Thames froze over.”
“‘Skating and Sinning’.” Lettice breathes.
“Yes!” Lally gasps. Raising her hand to her throat and clutching her pearls she continues, “Don’t tell me you saw it, Tice darling?”
“Well, no. I only know about it because Miss Ward told me about it not long after I completed the redecoration of her flat.” Lettice eyes her sister suspiciously. “But it sounds to me, like you’ve seen it.”
“Heavens no!” Lally laughs again, releasing her pearls and replacing the card in front of Lettice’s statuette of the ‘Theban dancer’ which sits in the centre of the mantlepiece. “I only know about it because Mrs. Sawyer tells me about all the pictures she sees with her husband at The Grand***************** in High Wycombe on the weekends when we discuss the menus on Mondays.”
“So why is Daddy so black on Miss Ward? Don’t tell me he dislikes her films.” Lettice says in disbelief. “I doubt he’s ever been to the pictures; he speaks so disparagingly of them.”
“Indeed he hasn’t, Tice. No. You see when Marsden saw your Miss Ward in ‘Skating and Sinning’, he fell madly and passionately in love with her, much to his ruination, or so Mamma tells me, and he decided that one day he would become an actor in the pictures. It turns out that he took secret acting lessons from Mrs. Maginot.”
“Not Mrs. Maginot, the haberdashers in Glynes?”
“The very one, Tice!” Lally titters. “She does have rather a theatrical bent, and manages the Glynes Theatrical Players as well as her shop in the village.”
“I know, but we’ve all been subject to their awful plays before, especially the Christmas panto****************** which we’ll both have to suffer through painted smiles this year, since its on the night of the twenty second. It’s ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ this year, and goodness knows I don’t wish to see Mr. Lewis the church verger reprise his role Dame Trott*******************.”
“As awful as it’s bound to be, Tice darling, Mrs, Maingot must have something of a knack when it comes to acting, because after a year and a half of lessons with her, Marsen went up to London to Islington Studios******************** last month to try out for a bit part in an upcoming film to be released in 1925, and landed the role as the romantic lead opposite his beloved Miss Ward!”
“What?” Lettice bursts out laughing. “Well I never!”
“Indeed! So, he came home to Glynes and handed Mamma his notice then and there!” Lally joins her sister’s raucous laughter. “Can you believe it? Our Marsden, starring in a film?”
“They must have hired him for his looks and his height, Lally darling, not his acting skills. Well, we definitely can’t see that production!”
“I’m almost tempted to sneak into The Grand and see it with Mrs. Sawyer when it coms out next year.” Lally laughs.
“Well, fancy Marsen being an actor in the pictures!”
“Yes, Mamma is fit to be tied! She has put an advertisement in The Lady*********************, but of course you know how hard it is to get a young man to be a footman these days that I think it’s a hopeless endeavour.”
“Well, only the really grand houses have footmen these days.” Lettice mutters, shuddering as she remembers Lady Zinna’s imperious footmen at her Park Lane mansion on the day Lettice fond out that Selwyn had become engaged to someone else. “Poor Bramley will have to answer the door as well as all his other butlering duties.”
Lally continues to flick through the cards until she comes across a rater innocuous one of a cottage with a smoking chimney set against a forest of pine trees.
“Sir John Nettleford-Hughes?” Lally gasps. “That old lecher?”
Lettice blushes at the mention of his name. Before she became secretly engaged to Sir John, he had sent her an early Christmas card which she put up, and rather than take it down when her sister arrived to stay, she simply left it up, hidden discreetly towards the back of the cards on display.
“He’s really not that bad,” Lettice says, grateful that her elder sister is too preoccupied with putting the card back to turn around and see her flushed cheeks. “Not once you get to know him. He was at Gossington when I went to stay with John and Gladys, and I was seated next to him at dinner. He’s really quite interesting and entertaining.”
“Lecherous and handsy don’t you mean?”
“No, I don’t. He really is rather kind, and more of a gentleman than you might suppose, Lally darling. Honestly.”
“You’ve changed your tune.” Lally replies, finally spinning around and facing her sister. “I seem to remember you and I both agreeing not that long ago on what a ghastly handsy old man he is!”
“Well, that was before Gossington.” Lettice defends. “Anyway, I really have Sir John to thank for the wonderful review by Henry Tipping********************** in Country Life***********************. After all, it was thanks to him that I met Mr. and Mrs. Gifford properly and redecorated the Pagoda Room for them. Mr. Gifford is Sir John’s nephew, and Mr. Gifford’s godfather is Henry Tipping.”
“You are a dark horse, aren’t you Tice, my darling?” Lally says with a puzzled smile.
“What do you mean, Lally?”
“Well, you and your interesting assortment of friends: politicians wives, lady novelists, actresses and lecherous old men!” Lally replies with a chuckle. “If this is the artistic life of a London society interior designer, I think I’ll be glad to get home to the quiet life of a Buckinghamshire lady of the manor. No Miss Wards or Sir Johns there!”
“Not yet, Lally darling! Not yet. But wait until Metroland reaches you. See what neighbours you get then!” Lettice gently teases her sister. “Besides,” she adds with an enigmatic smile. “I’m going to corrupt you with London society at this Thanksgiving Christmas party of the Carter’s this evening. High Wycombe is going to appear even more dreary dull to you after tonight.” She pauses for a moment. “Oh, and by the way, Sir John will be at the party this evening.”
Lally’s eyes grow wide in surprise. “No!”
“Yes.” Before Lally has a chance to protest, Lettice goes on, “Sir John is a distant relation of Cilla’s, so it’s not unexpected that he would be there. So, I’ll have the chance to show you just how charming he really can be.”
“You make it sound like you’re going to convert me, Tice.” Lally says warily.
“And so I am, Lally darling! By the end of tonight, you’ll love him! Now, drink up! It’s high time we were away!” Lettice holds her half drunk glass of champagne out to her sister whilst taking a less than ladylike gulp from her own. “The night is still young, and we don’t want to miss all the fun, or the good quality champagne.”
*Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie and his wife.
**To get tight is an old fashioned term used to describe getting drunk.
***The Austin 7 is an economy car that was produced from 1923 until 1939 in the United Kingdom by Austin. It was nicknamed the "Baby Austin" and was at that time one of the most popular cars produced for the British market and sold well abroad. Its effect on the British market was similar to that of the Model T Ford in the US, replacing most other British economy cars and cyclecars of the early 1920s.
****Derry and Toms was a smart London department store that was founded in 1860 in Kensington High Street. In 1930 a new three storey store was built in Art Deco style, and it was famous for its Roof Garden which opened in 1938. In 1973 the store was closed and became home to Big Biba, which closed in 1975. The site was developed into smaller stores and offices.
*****Two-up two-down is a type of small house with two rooms on the ground floor and two bedrooms upstairs. There are many types of terraced houses in the United Kingdom, and these are among the most modest. The first two-up two-down terraces were built in the 1870s, but the concept of them made up the backbone of the Metroland suburban expansions of the 1920s with streets lined with rows of two-up two-down semi-detached houses in Mock Tudor, Jacobethan, Arts and Crafts and inter-war Art Deco styles bastardised from the aesthetic styles created by the likes of English Arts and Crafts Movement designers like William Morris and Charles Voysey.
******The BBC presented the first dramatised recording of Charles Dickens classic novella ‘A Christmas Carol’ in December 1922. The dramatic recital was performed by Cyril Estacourt (who went on to do a good many more recital pieces for the BBC over the ensuing years) with carol interludes performed by the Star Street Congregational Church Choir. The recording was actually broadcast on the BBC’s 5WA Cardiff, but I hope you will indulge my slight alteration by placing it in the London studios of the BBC for dramatic purposes.
*******The Women's Institute (WI) is a community-based organization for women in the United Kingdom, Canada, South Africa and New Zealand. The movement was founded in Stoney Creek, Ontario, Canada, by Erland and Janet Lee with Adelaide Hoodless being the first speaker in 1897. It was based on the British concept of Women's Guilds, created by Rev Archibald Charteris in 1887 and originally confined to the Church of Scotland. From Canada the organization spread back to the motherland, throughout the British Empire and Commonwealth, and thence to other countries. Many WIs belong to the Associated Country Women of the World organization. Each individual WI is a separate charitable organisation, run by and for its own members with a constitution agreed at national level but the possibility of local bye-laws. WIs are grouped into Federations, roughly corresponding to counties or islands, which each have a local office and one or more paid staff.
********A pied-à-terre is a small flat, house, or room kept for occasional use.
*********The term bosom friend is recorded as far back as the late Sixteenth Century. In those days, the bosom referred to the chest as the seat of deep emotions, though now the word usually means a woman's “chest.” A bosom friend, then, is one you might share these deep feelings with or have deep feelings for.
**********In the United States, Thanksgiving Day is celebrated on the fourth Thursday in November.
***********Park Lane is a dual carriageway road in the City of Westminster in Central London. It is part of the London Inner Ring Road and runs from Hyde Park Corner in the south to Marble Arch in the north. It separates Hyde Park to the west from Mayfair to the east. The road was originally a simple country lane on the boundary of Hyde Park, separated by a brick wall. Aristocratic properties appeared during the late 18th century, including Breadalbane House, Somerset House, and Londonderry House. The road grew in popularity during the 19th century after improvements to Hyde Park Corner and more affordable views of the park, which attracted the nouveau riche to the street and led to it becoming one of the most fashionable roads to live on in London. Notable residents included the 1st Duke of Westminster's residence at Grosvenor House, the Dukes of Somerset at Somerset House, and the British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli at No. 93. Other historic properties include Dorchester House, Brook House and Dudley House. In the 20th century, Park Lane became well known for its luxury hotels, particularly The Dorchester, completed in 1931, which became closely associated with eminent writers and international film stars. Flats and shops began appearing on the road, including penthouse flats. Several buildings suffered damage during World War II, yet the road still attracted significant development, including the Park Lane Hotel and the London Hilton on Park Lane, and several sports car garages. A number of properties on the road today are owned by some of the wealthiest businessmen from the Middle East and Asia.
************The Savoy Havana Band was a popular British dance band of the 1920s. It was resident at the Savoy Hotel in London, between 1921 and 1927. The band made their first live outside broadcast on the British Broadcasting Corporation from the Savoy Hotel on the 3rd of October, 1923.
*************Wilfred de Mornys managed both the Savoy Havana band and their colleagues the more famous Savoy Orpheans, both of whom performed at the Savoy in London.
**************The Bright Young Things, or Bright Young People, was a nickname given by the tabloid press to a group of Bohemian young aristocrats and socialites in 1920s London.
***************French Blue is a rich, deep blue that exudes elegance and sophistication. This captivating hue is inspired by the vibrant blue uniforms worn by the French military in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries.
****************Meaning to be completely unacquainted with, “not to know – from a bar of soap” is often attributed as an Australian colloquialism, because it is there that it is most commonly used in everyday parlance, however the term was first used in the Chicago Daily Tribune in May 1877 when writing a review about the English comic opera singer and actress Emily Soldene: “The ‘prima donna’ does not know a bar of music from a bar of soap; the chief actor would not be allowed to play supernumerary in a dumb show.”
*****************Located about a mile from High Wycombe town centre. The Grand Cinema was opened on the 28th April 1913 with “Zigomar”. It was designed by T. Thurlow, and had an attractively decorated façade. There was a small stage and some dressing rooms for variety acts. It was closed for several months in 1953, and re-opened under new operators. It closed forever on the 8th September 1962 with Kenneth More in “Some People” and Ray Barrett in “Time to Remember”. Part of the building was demolished and the remainder was used as a tailors. It then became a furniture showroom for James Blundell, who seemed to have a knack of converting closed cinemas for their own use. It then became an electrical store, and the façade was re-modelled.
******************A pantomime (shortened to “panto”) is a theatrical entertainment, mainly for children, which involves music, topical jokes, and slapstick comedy and is based on a fairy tale or nursery story, usually produced around Christmas.
*******************Dame Trott is the long suffering mother of Jack in the Christmas pantomime of Jack and the Beanstalk. She is outrageous, brash and loud, and traditionally played by a man in drag.
********************Islington Studios, often known as Gainsborough Studios, were a British film studio located on the south bank of the Regent's Canal, in Poole Street, Hoxton in Shoreditch, London which began operation in 1919. By 1920 they had a two stage studio. It is here that Alfred Hitchcock made his entrée into films.
*********************The Lady is one of Britain's longest-running women's magazines. It has been in continuous publication since 1885 and is based in London. It is particularly notable for its classified advertisements for domestic service and child care; it also has extensive listings of holiday properties.
**********************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.
***********************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.
I love Christmas, and I love decorating at Christmas too. This even extends to my miniatures collection. This upper-class domestic scene is different to what you may think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The elegantly decorated Christmas tree is a hand-made 1:12 size artisan miniature made by an artist in America. The presents beneath it and on the coffee table come from various miniature specialist stockists in England.
The 1:12 miniature garland over the Art Deco fireplace was hand-made by Karen Lady Bug Miniatures in England and the 1;12 Art Deco card selection on the mantle came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature store in England.
The salmon mousse garnished with cucumber slices and lemon wedges is an artisan miniature by an unknown artist. It is even presented on a holly sprigged plate, so it is very festive! The champagne bottle, glasses and bowl of caviar are hand-made 1:12 artisan miniature pieces too, acquired from Karen Ladybug Miniatures.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. To the left of the fireplace is a Hepplewhite drop-drawer bureau and chair of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs, even down the legs and inside the bureau. The chair set has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven. To the right of the fireplace is a Chippendale cabinet which has also been decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks.
On the top of the Hepplewhite bureau stand three real miniature photos in frames including an Edwardian silver frame, a Victorian brass frame and an Art Deco blue Bakelite and glass frame.
The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.
On the left hand side of the mantle, behind the cards, you can just glimpse the turquoise coloured top of an Art Deco metal clock hand painted with wonderful detail by British miniature artisan Victoria Fasken.
In the middle of the mantle is a miniature artisan hand painted Art Deco statue on a “marble” plinth. Made by Warwick Miniatures in England, it is a 1:12 copy of the “Theban Dancer” sculpture created by Claire-Jeanne-Roberte Colinet in 1925.
The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
May you all spend these joyful and crazy days with those you love and consider family by opening your hearts to the beauty of being together.
Merry Xmas and happy Holy Holidays to you! 🎅
With lot of love ❤️
The Delfina's staff and the Fucking bird
A composition for Wks 51 & 52 - ' Indoors / Outdoors' - set by the Compositionally Challenged Group.
A composition for December's Most Versatile - set by Sharon for the Compositionally Challenged Group
Our Xmas card display kit.
A sheet of polystyrene insulation, covered with Xmas wrapping, and some wire on the back to act as a hanger and support it's weight. By the end of Xmas it will completely covered in cards.
Since I took the photo the display has become well filled in, but it looks so much prettier here, with a bit of space, very much like Linda's collages do.
A handmade frame using Photoshop Elements 2021.
Overlay of stringy stuff that has a Xmas look added in Ribbet.
Actually on the sale card form Germany / Deutschland, Schleswig-Holstein, Lübeck, featuring BMW X5. Picture and edition: Thomas Radbruch
Just playing with a Christmas postcard I made recently...hoping this finds all of you with good weather to enjoy any Christmas travels you may make.
I have no idea if I'll have any time for posting or commentig....today means travel to a nearby town to sing Handel's Messiah with many others... ( some very talented ,especially rhe soloists.. ) ...and a pretty good string orchestra.... and we are hoping that the predicted snow squalls off the lake won't be a problem !
These robins have been imbibing the Christmas Spirit a little too freely, and the cat in the background looks as if all his Christmases have come at once...
Date: Circa 1876
NLI Ref.: Arthur Conan's Xmas Scrapbook, 4188 TX (2)
Reproduction rights owned by the National Library of Ireland
I am both honoured and delighted that Dorset Wildlife Trust chose this photo of a Bournemouth Robin for one of their Charity Christmas card designs.
older shot (germany 2003)
analog film
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Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Lettice recently visited her family home, Glynes, in Wiltshire after fleeing London in a moment of deep despair. Lettice’s beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, had organised a romantic dinner at the Savoy* for he and Lettice to celebrate his birthday. However, when Lettice arrived, she was confronted not with the smiling face of her beau, but the haughty and cruel spectre of his mother, the Duchess of Walmsford, Lady Zinnia. Lady Zinnia, and Selwyn’s Uncle Bertrand had been attempting to marry him off to his cousin, 1923 debutante Pamela Fox-Chavers. Lady Zinnia had, up until that moment been snubbing Lettice, so Selwyn and Lettice arranged for Lettice to attend as many London Season events as possible where Selwyn and Pamela were also in attendance so that Lettice and Selwyn could spend time together, and at the same time make their intentions so well known that Lady Zinnia wouldn’t be able to avoid Lettice any longer. Zinnia is a woman who likes intrigue and revenge, and the revenge she launched upon Lettice that evening at the Savoy was bitterly harsh and painful. With a cold and calculating smile Lady Zinna announced that she had packed Selwyn off to Durban in South Africa for a year. She made a pact with her son: if he went away for a year, a year during which he agreed neither to see, nor correspond with Lettice, if he comes back and doesn’t feel the same way about her as he did when he left, he agreed that he will marry Pamela, just as Bertrand and Lady Zinnia planned. If however, he still feels the same way about Lettice when he returns, Lady Zinnia agreed that she would concede and will allow him to marry her.
Leaving London by train that very evening, Lettice returned home to Glynes, where she stayed for a week, moving numbly about the familiar rooms of the grand Georgian country house, reading books from her father’s library distractedly to pass the time, whilst her father fed her, her favourite Scottish shortbreads in a vain effort to cheer her up. However, rather than assuage her broken heart, her father’s ministrations only served to make matters worse as she grew even more morose. It was from the most unlikely of candidates, her mother Lady Sadie, with whom Lettice has always had a fraught relationship, that Lettice received the best advice, which was to stop feeling sorry for herself and get on with her life: keep designing interiors, keep shopping and most importantly, keep attending social functions where there are plenty of press photographers. “You may not be permitted to write to Selwyn,” Lady Sadie said wisely. ‘But Zinnia said nothing about the newspapers not writing about your plight or your feelings on your behest. Let them tell Selwyn that you still love him and are waiting for him. They get the London papers in Durban just as much as they get them here, and Zinnia won’t be able to stop a lovesick and homesick young man flipping to the society pages as he seeks solace in the faces of familiar names and faces, and thus seeing you and reading your words of commitment to him that you share through the newspaper men. Tell them that you are waiting patiently for Selwyn’s return.”
Since then, Lettice has been trying to follow her mother’s advice and has thrown herself into the merry dance of London’s social round of dinners, dances and balls in the lead up to the festive season. Carefully heeding another piece of her mother’s advice, she has avoided being seen on the arm of any eligible young men, and just as Lady Sadie predicted, the press has been lapping up the story of Lettice’s broken heart as she shuns the advances of other young men whilst she awaits Selwyn’s eventual return from Durban, publishing the details in all their tabloids with fervour.
Tonight however, Lettice has had enough of nightclubs, ballrooms and false bonhomie and is eschewing an evening of dancing followed by a light supper at a party being held by Lady Lavender Barnstable in London’s Queen’s Gate, preferring instead to say at home in Cavendish Mews where she can let her guard down at least for a little while and quietly pine for her lost love. Being December, in an effort to cheer her mistress up, Edith, Lettice’s maid, has ordered a Christmas tree on Lettice’s behalf and pulled the decorations out from the Cavendish Mews box room, and together they decorated the tree until it was a sparkling wonderland of glowing glass baubles and glistening tinsel**. The drawing room smells of a delightful mixture of fresh spruce pine and hothouse roses from the Regent Street Flower Box, Lettice’s favourite florist. The tree is surrounded with beautifully wrapped gifts that Lettice has acquired over the last week as she prepares for Christmas.
“Is it almost time, Miss?” Edith asks with excitement as she bustles into the drawing room with a tray laden with tea making implements and some mince pies acquired from the Harrod’s food hall.
The maid carefully places it on the low black japanned coffee table and begins to set out the tea things.
Lettice glances up at the dainty painted Art Deco clock on the mantlepiece. “Not quite yet Edith. According to ‘The Broadcaster’ it doesn’t start until half past seven. So, just another ten minutes or so.”
“Thank goodness I made it in time.” Edith gasps. “I though the kettle would never boil, Miss.”
“What is it they say about a watched pot never boiling, Edith?” Lettice laughs, albeit a little sadly.
Edith chuckles. “How right they were, Miss.”
“Please, do sit down, Edith.” Lettice says, indicating with an elegant open palmed gesture to the white upholstered tub armchair opposite her.
“Thank you Miss!” Edith replies, bobbing a curtsey, before carefully settling herself into the luxurious cushioning of the chair, smoothing her black silk moiré skirt and decorative lace apron of her afternoon uniform over her knees. Although she usually feels ill at ease when on the rare occasion she has been invited to sit in the drawing room with her mistress, tonight is different and she radiates excitement. “I must say, Miss, it’s awfully kind of you letting me sit with you and listen to ‘A Christmas Carol’ on the wireless with you.”
“Oh, I think it’s the very least I can do, Edith. After all, if I hadn’t overheard you talking about it with Mrs. Boothby, I wouldn’t have even known the BBC was performing a dramatic recital of A Christmas Carol on the airwaves tonight***.”
“I’m so excited! It’s one of my favourite stories from my childhood you see, Miss.” Edith enthuses.
“Is it?” Lettice asks with mild interest.
“Oh yes! My Dad, well he’s a real bookworm and he wanted my brother, Bert, and I to enjoy reading as much as him. Mum’s not much of a reader herself. She’s more,” Edith pauses momentarily raising her eyes to the ornate cornicing on the ceiling above whilst she tries to think of the right word. “Practical, shall we say.”
“Somehow I don’t think I could imagine you having a mother who would just settle down by her hearth with a good book in hand, Edith.”
“Oh she’d never do that, Miss. She’s always far too busy in the kitchen cooking something or cleaning something else. She doesn’t have time for books she tells my Dad, but she indulges him.”
“So how did your father try and develop your interest in reading, Edith?”
“Well, Bert and I, we shared a room when we were little, and Dad used to read us stories.” Edith begins wistfully as she remembers being tucked up cosily in bed and listening to her father read. “‘Gulliver’s Travels’, ‘Robinson Crusoe’, ‘The Swiss Family Robinson’.”
“My, my!” Lettice exclaims. “Such an enlightened man. How lucky you were, Edith.”
“Oh we were, Miss. And he would always read us A Christmas Carol in the lead up to Christmas. We all hated Scrooge and Bert always had a soft spot for Tiny Tim.”
“Don’t we all?” smiles Lettice sadly.
“I always loved the party at Mr. Fezziwig’s. That’s my favourite part of the story when old Scrooge wasn’t so horrible and mean.”
“Yes, but he missed his chance of love.” Lettice remarks with heightened sadness as she reflects on the recent bitter twist in her own romantic relationship with Selwyn.
“Anyway,” Edith quickly pipes up before her mistress can think too long and hard. “Dad would always make sure he had it finished just on Christmas Eve, so Bert and I could settle down in our beds and try and sleep as we waited excitedly for Father Christmas to arrive on Christmas morning.”
“And did it work, Edith?”
“Oh yes Miss, we always nodded off no matter how much Bert and I tried to stay awake. And then we’d find an orange in the heel of our stockings and all kinds of other little goodies stuffed into them on Christmas Day. I don’t know how Dad, with his feet as big and tread as heavy as paving stones, could be so quiet, Miss.”
“No Edith!” Lettice laughs with genuine delight at her maid’s innocent misunderstanding of her question. “I meant, did your father’s ploy of reading to you instil a love of reading in you?”
“Oh!” laughs Edith. “Oh yes Miss! Well, you know I’m quite partial to a romance novel, just like yourself Miss.” Lettice nods in agreement at Edith’s statement. “And Bert takes after Dad. He likes a good murder mystery. He says it’s a good way to while away any quiet time he gets when he is on a long voyage and wants to remember home.”
“Do they like Agatha Christie****, Edith?”
“Oh yes Miss! Dad really loves her. He read ‘The Mysterious Affair at Styles’ and said it was absolutely engrossing. He read it from cover to cover as quickly as he could. He likes that detective Monsieur Poirot. He says that he’s not bad, for a foreigner that is.”
Lettice laughs fulsomely again at her maid’s remark before she asks her, “Do you know Ms. Christie has released a new novel this year called ‘The Murder on the Links’?”
“Oh yes Miss. I’d love to buy it for Dad for Christmas, but it’s seven and six in the bookshops, and I can’t afford that.”
“I’ll have a chat with Mr. Mayhew***** my booksellers in Charing Cross if you like, Edith. He may be able to find you a shop-soiled copy at a slightly cheaper price than that.”
“Oh would you, Miss?” Edith’s eyes light up with delight. “I’d be ever so grateful if you would! Dad wouldn’t mind a copy, even if it was a little scuffed. He’ll soon have his own biscuity fingerprints all over it.”
“I’ll telephone him in the morning, Edith. After all Christmas comes but once a year.”
As her mistress speaks, Edith watches as she gazes down upon the little black japanned occasional table on which stands Edith’s nemesis, the telephone, with a wistful stare. In front of the sparkling silver and Bakelite****** telephone, the first few cards of the festive season stand. Soon, as the number of them increase, Edith will move the cards from there to the mantlepiece. There is a card from Jeffrey and Company*******, the wallpaper manufacturers, and one from Lettice’s upholsterer thanking Lettice for her ongoing patronage. There is an early Christmas card from Wanetta Ward, the American film actress Lettice decorated a flat for, who has a contract with Islington Studios********, who has just set sail back to America to spend Christmas with her family. And there is a card from Lady’s Sadie’s cousin, the Duchess of Whitby, who in Edith’s opinion has more front than********* Selfridge’s to dare sending a Christmas card when she only reluctantly paid the bills for the work done by Lettice for remodelling the small first floor reception room of her Fitzroy Square home with some considerable inducement from Lettice’s father the Viscount Wrexham. Edith knows that the one Christmas card her mistress wants will never arrive, at least not this Christmas.
“Ahem.” Edith clears her throat a little awkwardly, breaking her mistress’ deep thoughts. “You miss him, don’t you Miss?”
Lettice turns back to her maid, her face pale and her eyes glistening with unshed tears that threaten to burst forth at any moment. “Yes. I miss him terribly.”
“I understand, Miss.” Edith assures her. “I remember what it was like, waiting for my first sweetheart to come home from the war, and now he’s buried over the Channel in Flanders Fields**********. At least you know Mr. Spencely is coming home, Miss.”
Lettice lowers her gaze into her lap. “You make me feel ashamed, Edith.”
“Me Miss?” Edith gasps, raising her hands to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to. How?”
“I forgot that you had a sweetheart, your first by your own admission, who died in the Great War. Yet here you are. You survived his loss. Yet here am I, blubbing at the mere thought of Selwyn and he’s not in any danger in Durban, and will be coming back. I really have nothing to cry over.”
The two women fall into silence for a moment, with only the crackle of the fire and the ticking of the clock on the mantle to break it.
“If you’ll pardon me for saying this, Miss,” Edith says after a few moments. “But a broken heart is a broken heart, no matter how it gets broken, whether in times of war or peace. I don’t know your people, and I hope I don’t sound presumptuous when I say this, Miss, but I think your old mum the Countess is right. You have to keep going on, and if Mr. Spencely really loves you,” She pauses for a moment. “And for what little it’s worth, in my opinion I’m sure he does, Miss, he’ll come home to you. He’s a right fool if he doesn’t!” She gasps as soon as the words are out of her mouth, realising what she, a humble domestic, has said about her social better and a future duke. “Oh, I’m so sorry Miss. I didn’t mean that last remark. I spoke out of turn. Mr. Spencely is a fine gentleman.”
“Please, don’t apologise Edith.” Lettice reassures her, reaching out a grasping hand to her maid, who cautiously holds out her own hand, allowing Lettice to clasp it with a strength and urgency that surprises the young maid. “Of course you meant it or you wouldn’t have said it. I know it comes from a sense of loyalty to me. I appreciate that, truly I do.”
“Yes Miss.” Edith mumbles in an embarrassed fashion, suddenly feeling ill at ease with the intimacy of the moment between the two of them as she blushes.
“And you’re right on both counts. Mr. Spencely is a fine gentleman.” Lettice sniffs and blinks away her tears. “But you are right, he will be a fool if he doesn’t come home to me from Durban.” She sniffs again, releasing Edith’s hand, her jaw steeling as she sits a little more upright in her seat. “I’m the best catch he’ll ever get.”
“Well said, Miss.” Edith says, smiling shyly at her mistress.
“I’m just worried that a year may alter his feelings towards me.”
“Don’t they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, Miss?”
“They do.” Lettice smiles sadly again. “You’re good company, Edith. Thank you again for sitting with me. The nights draw in so quickly now as Christmas approaches, and they feel so long and lonely.”
“I know, Miss.” Edith replies again. She sighs with a sense of resignment, but then adds, “At least Mr. Spencely had the decency to leave something behind for you to help fill in those lonely nights.” She nods her head towards the sparking wireless sitting on the black japanned occasional table next to the telephone.
Lettice glances at the gleaming piece of brass machinery with its ornamental finials and three knobs on the front below an ornamental piece of fretwork protecting some mesh fabric behind it.
“Quite right Edith.” Lettice says with a final sniff. “And it should be about time for our dramatsation of ‘A Christmas Carol’.”
Lettice carefully turns the left knob to the right and it releases a satisfyingly crisp click as she switches the wireless on. Slowly a quiet crackling buzz begins behind the mesh. She starts to slowly turn the knob to the right, and as she does, the static sounds change, growing momentarily louder and then softer, and then slowly the discordant cacophony of harsh sounds starts to dissipate as a well-modulated man’s voice can be heard.
“This is the British Broadcasting Service coming to you from London. We take great pleasure in presenting for you this evening a dramatic rendition of Charles Dickens immortal Christmas classic, ‘A Christmas Carol’ recited by Cyril Estcourt with carol interludes by the Star Street Congregational Church Choir.”
*The Savoy Hotel is a luxury hotel located in the Strand in the City of Westminster in central London. Built by the impresario Richard D'Oyly Carte with profits from his Gilbert and Sullivan opera productions, it opened on 6 August 1889. It was the first in the Savoy group of hotels and restaurants owned by Carte's family for over a century. The Savoy was the first hotel in Britain to introduce electric lights throughout the building, electric lifts, bathrooms in most of the lavishly furnished rooms, constant hot and cold running water and many other innovations. Carte hired César Ritz as manager and Auguste Escoffier as chef de cuisine; they established an unprecedented standard of quality in hotel service, entertainment and elegant dining, attracting royalty and other rich and powerful guests and diners. The hotel became Carte's most successful venture. Its bands, Savoy Orpheans and the Savoy Havana Band, became famous. Winston Churchill often took his cabinet to lunch at the hotel. The hotel is now managed by Fairmont Hotels and Resorts. It has been called "London's most famous hotel". It has two hundred and sixty seven guest rooms and panoramic views of the River Thames across Savoy Place and the Thames Embankment. The hotel is a Grade II listed building.
**One of the most famous Christmas decorations that people love to use at Christmas is tinsel. You might think that using it is an old tradition and that people in Britain have been adorning their houses with tinsel for a very long time. However that is not actually true. Tinsel is in fact believed to be quite a modern tradition. Whilst the idea of tinsel dates back to Germany in 1610 when wealthy people used real strands of silver to adorn their Christmas trees (also a German invention). Silver was very expensive though, so being able to do this was a sign that you were wealthy. Even though silver looked beautiful and sparkly to begin with, it tarnished quite quickly, meaning it would lose its lovely, bright appearance. Therefore it was swapped for other materials like copper and tin. These metals were also cheaper, so it meant that more people could use them. However, when the Great War started in 1914, metals like copper were needed for the war. Because of this, they couldn't be used for Christmas decorations as much, so a substitute was needed. It was swapped for aluminium, but this was a fire hazard, so it was switched for lead, but that turned out to be poisonous.
***The BBC presented the first dramatised recording of Charles Dickens classic novella ‘A Christmas Carol’ in December 1923. The dramatic recital was performed by Cyril Estacourt (who went on to do a good many more recital pieces for the BBC over the ensuing years) with carol interludes performed by the Star Street Congregational Church Choir. The recording was actually broadcast on the BBC’s 5WA Cardiff, but I hope you will indulge my slight alteration by placing it in the London studios of the BBC for dramatic purposes.
****By 1923 when this story is set, detective mystery fiction writer Agatha Christie had already written two successful novels, ‘The Mysterious Affair at Styles’ published by The Bodley Head in 1921, which introduced the world to her fictional detective Hercule Poirot, and ‘The Secret Adversary’ also published by The Bodley Head, in 1922, which introduced characters Tommy and Tuppence. In May of 1923, Agatha Christie would release her second novel featuring Hercule Poirot: ‘The Murder on the Links’ which would retail in London bookshops for seven shillings and sixpence.
*****A. H. Mayhew was once one of many bookshops located in London’s Charring Cross Road, an area still famous today for its bookshops, perhaps most famously written about by American authoress Helene Hanff who wrote ’84, Charing Cross Road’, which later became a play and then a 1987 film starring Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins. Number 56. Charing Cross Road was the home of Mayhew’s second-hand and rare bookshop. Closed after the war, their premises is now the home of Any Amount of Books bookshop.
******Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.
*******Jeffrey and Company was an English producer of fine wallpapers that operated between 1836 and the mid 1930s. Based at 64 Essex Road in London, the firm worked with a variety of designers who were active in the aesthetic and arts and crafts movements, such as E.W. Godwin, William Morris, and Walter Crane. Jeffrey and Company’s success is often credited to Metford Warner, who became the company’s chief proprietor in 1871. Under his direction the firm became one of the most lucrative and influential wallpaper manufacturers in Europe. The company clarified that wallpaper should not be reserved for use solely in mansions, but should be available for rooms in the homes of the emerging upper-middle class.
********Islington Studios, often known as Gainsborough Studios, were a British film studio located on the south bank of the Regent's Canal, in Poole Street, Hoxton in Shoreditch, London which began operation in 1919. By 1920 they had a two stage studio. It is here that Alfred Hitchcock made his entrée into films.
*********The phrase “more front than” denotes impudence, effrontery and is usually followed by the name of a shop which has a large façade covering a wide amount of street frontage. An old fashioned term it has largely died out in the United Kingdom, but still exists as an Australian saying.
**********The term “Flanders Fields”, used after the war to refer to the parts of France where the bloodiest battles of the Great War raged comes from "In Flanders Fields" is a war poem in the form of a rondeau, written during the First World War by Canadian physician Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, written in 1915.
This festively decorated 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures, including items from my own childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
Central to our story, the brass wireless, which is remarkably heavy for its size, comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Supplies in the United Kingdom.
The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919. It is two centimetres wide and two centimetres high. The receiver can be removed from the cradle, and the curling chord does stretch out.
The vase of red roses on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.
Lettice’s copy of ‘The Broadcaster’ is a 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. As well as producing books, he also created magazines such as this one. This magazine is one of the rarer exceptions that has been designed not to be opened. Nevertheless, the cover is beautifully illustrated. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s books and magazines are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter. 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 elegantly decorated Christmas tree is a hand-made 1:12 size artisan miniature made by an artist in America. The presents beneath it come from various miniature specialist stockists in England and by husband and wife artistic team Margie and Mike Balough who own Serendipity Miniatures in Newcomerstown, Ohio.
The 1;12 Art Deco card selection on the table came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature store in England.
Lettice’s black leather diary with the silver clasp on the under storey of the occasional table has been made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chair upholstered in white embossed fabric is made of black japanned wood and has a removable cushion, just like its life sized equivalent. The Hepplewhite chair in the background has a hand woven rattan seat and has been painted with floral patterns along its back and arms by hand.
The Chinese folding screen in the background 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.
In front of the screen on a pedestal table stands a miniature cloisonné vase from the early Twentieth Century which I also bought when I was a child. It came from a curios shop. 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 geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
To all my flickr friends!!!
I wish a merry Christmas and a great New Year full of great things!!!
Thank you for a wonderful 2008
Cheers
Nicolas