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Best Package Enterprise Co., Ltd was established in 2001. We offer plastic bottles, glass bottles, plastic jars, glass jars, metal containers, and closures for any purpose. We supply every industry including but not limited to: cosmetics, personal care, herbal, food storage, industrial, medical & pharmaceuticals, laboratory, and chemical industry for individual purposes and wholesale bulk quantities for qualifying businesses. Our goal is to provide a full range and high standard quality of packaging components, containers, bottles, jars, closures and more to meet all of our customers' needs with our fast shipments and excellent customer services.

 

Our company has track record of over 10 years of experience in the Packaging industry. Our product design and manufacturing expertise are plentiful. We take our company’s growth and improvement seriously by keeping up with the latest technological innovations and developments of our products. Our company has been evaluated as one of the most potential and fastest growing packaging companies in the industry. We value and offer the best quality and service to our customers and have resulted in customer’s satisfaction, trustworthy, reliable, and good reputation for excellence.

Our professional team is familiar and knowledgeable with all forms of plastic raw materials ranging from PET. PE. PP. PVC. AS. PS. ABS. PMMA, etc. We can design and build molds to your specification or design it for you. If you have any special request on manufacture products of your own design, we will try our best to help. All you need to do is simply send us your sample of the container or a graphic illustrator of the product you want, our professional team will be happy to assist you for your needs- no matter how complicated it might be, from: choosing raw materials, mold design, manufacturing, injection molding, producing, hot stamping, painting, silk-screening, pad printing, logo gliding, labeling and assembly. We will continue to do our best to offer all sizes of businesses a large variety of packaging solutions. We look forward to the future, in hopes of supplying all your packaging needs.

 

Special Custom Decorating Services

Best Package Enterprise Co., Ltd has new products every season. We offers a variety of decorating options for your bottles, supplying containers, jars and closures to complete your entire packaging needs. We specialize in multi-color silk screening, hot stamping, pad printing, gliding, and labeling. For decorating information, please send us a sample of what you'd like decorated, along with the quantity needed, and we would be more than happy to customize a competitive quote for your review. Just email us at: 2008@taiwanbottle.com.tw ODM and OEM orders are welcome.

 

We accept small orders. Purchase wholesale plastic containers in large wholesale volumes, or buy as little as one plastic bottle. Order big or small volumes, we're happy to ship.

 

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Due to our large product lines, the items we sell might not all be shown on our website. If you don’t find what you’re looking for, please email us at: 2008@taiwanbottle.com.tw along with the following information to request our catalog:

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Our customer representative will be happy to mail you a catalog or assist you with your catalog request. Thank you!

 

Best Package Enterprise Co., Ltd

NO.64-2 Dade Lane, Jung Ching Rd.,

Beitun District, Taichung, Taiwan

TEL:+886-4-22981580

FAX:+886-4-22981606

Cell:+886-930885321 asking for: Oscar Mr.

E-mail: 2008@taiwanbottle.com.tw

 

Milang and the Murray River Boat Trade.

In 1853 the governor of SA offered a reward of £4,000 to the first river steam boat to navigate the Murray to Wentworth and beyond. Captain Francis Cadell working with William Younghusband, a close friend of the governor received the prize although Captain William Randell of Mannum reached Wentworth in his steam boat at the same time. Cadell had named his boat after the wife of the Governor, the Lady Augusta and the Governor and a small party travelled on Captain Cadell’s boat. After this financial boost Cadell went on to establish the River Murray Navigation Company based in Goolwa. Randell established his own shipping line based in Mannum. The river trade began in earnest in 1854. The prize was intercolonial transportation of goods into western NSW and southern Qld via the Darling River from Wentworth. In the 1850s there was almost no settlement in SA along the river so the money to be made was in NSW and the upper reaches of the Murray in Victoria. Randell transported flour to Echuca, for example, for overland transport from Echuca to the goldfields at Bendigo. The early river steamers and barges were manufactured along the Murray and the lakes, often at Goolwa or Mannum or in Milang. Wool was the staple product shipped down the river from NSW and the return trips took up flour, sugar, tea, pianos, furniture, engines or whatever outback stations needed. Customs duties were due at the SA/NSW/Vic border and the Qld border. Milang established a niche role for itself in the riverboat trade; it made steamers and barges, provided captains and skilled navigators and handled the bulk of supplies going up to NSW as Milang was the closest and easiest river port to Adelaide. Duranda Terrace in Milang handled 50 to 60% of all SA exports up the river. Merchants flourished here and Landseers established a large wool handling and warehousing business with offices in Morgan, Murray Bridge, Goolwa, Wentworth, Wilcannia and Mildura. But their headquarters were in Milang.

 

Albert Landseer the company founder was born in England in 1829 and was a cousin to the famous British landscape painter of the same surname. Albert studied sculpture himself but gave it up to immigrate to SA. He became the agent for Captain Cadell of Goolwa in 1856 and from that contract he expanded his business all along the river. He had ten children with his first wife and six with his second. He controlled almost all the trade through Milang and was known as the “Duke of Milang.” His business partner who contributed financial support was William Dunk. Albert Landseer died in 1906 as the river trade was starting to reduce. Landseer contributed to the district by becoming a member of parliament and was a popular local identify. Alas his four storey stone flour mill and three storey warehouse in Duranda Terrace were both demolished a long time ago. (His impressive wool store in Morgan still stands.) Landseer’s flour mill operated from around 1870 to 1890 replacing the Pavy flour mill that was established in Milang in the 1850s to supply flour for the riverboat trade. The heyday of the riverboat trade was in the 19th century. Before any railways reached western NSW almost all trade was carried on the river through SA. Railways reached western NSW and upper Victoria in the 1880s. But the river trade persisted as so many stations were situated right on the banks of the Darling River and so river transport was the easiest and cheapest right into the middle 1920s. The first jetty was constructed in Milang in 1856 to get the river trade going. It was increased in length in 1859 and again in 1869 until it was 217 metres (711 feet) long. A tram track took cargo to the end of the jetty. The great Murray flood of 1956 saw half the jetty washed away.

 

Although much of the river boat trade died away in the 1920s some services continued, especially the local steamer service across Lake Alexandrina. Once the railway from Adelaide reached Milang in 1884 a service was started to connect with the trains to take passenger and freight across the lakes to Poltalloch station, Meningie and from there overland through the Coorong to the South East and Melbourne. The paddle steamer Dispatch plied this route from 1877 between Milang and Meningie. After 1884 other vessels were also used on this route. Trade declined considerably in Milang itself after 1878 when the SA railway reached Morgan. It then became the major river port, rather than Milang.

 

Because of the river trade Milang had a thriving boat building industry. George Ross established engineering works in Milang and then branched out into boats. Ross’ major competitor was Frank Potts of Langhorne Creek who built his boats in Milang too. Potts built many of the boats used by Landseer’s company. The last boat built for Landseer was the Marion in 1897. This is the paddle steamer now in the Museum at Mannum. Another well known boat builder in Milang was C.H.F. Kruse. The register of steamers built in Milang lists:

1857The Enterprise.

1872 The Ponkaree.

1873Landseer’s floating dry dock was built and then later sold on to William Randell at Mannum in 1876.

1875The Wilcannia.

1876The Annie and the Bourke.

1877The Avoca and the Dispatch.

1878The Milang, the Elsie, the John Hart and the Victor.

1880The Mary Ann (second steamer of this name).

1891The Ada and Clara. (This was financed by the Bowmans for the lake crossing to Poltalloch Station.)

1892The Advance and the Retreat.

1897The Agnostic, the Marion and the Tarella.

1898The Etona (used by the Anglican Church for services along the Murray from Murray Bridge to Renmark.)

1911The Elsie (second steamer of this name).

Although the river trade was starting to die off in the early 20th century in 1902 the lock system was agreed upon by the states. It was mainly built to provide a constant river level free from snags in the Murray. The locks were also to control river flows in times of drought and keep the Murray navigable. The first Murray River lock was started in 1915 and finished at Blanchetown in 1922. It took another 20 years for the remaining 25 locks along the river to Albury to be completed. The final stage of this project really was the construction of the five barrages to prevent salt water from entering the lakes and Murray River. They were completed in 1940.

 

A Brief History of Milang.

The settlers of Strathalbyn were anxious to have a port near their town especially after the Wheal Ellen mine began operations in 1857. In August 1853 Captains Cadell and Randell had proved the viability of river trade. In light of this the Surveyor General Arthur Freeling ordered a township to be laid out on the shores of Lake Alexandrina near where the Bremer and Angas rivers enter the lake. A site was selected on high ground away from both river mouths. Milang was laid out by January 1854. The town had a grid pattern, like Adelaide surrounded by parklands on three sides and the lake on the other. Blocks must have sold quickly as in 1857 a private development was laid out beyond the parklands by Dr Rankine of Strathalbyn. The town name was selected from a local Aboriginal word “Millangk” which meant place of sorcery and magic. Some might argue that Milang is still a magical place!

 

Among the purchasers of the first town lots, as was to be the case in Langhorne Creek too, were the elite of Strathalbyn- the Gollans, Stirlings, Dawsons etc. Other pioneers of Milang were the Landseer family and G Chalken. Chalken owned the Lake Hotel, established in 1856 in a side street. The Pier Hotel facing the lake was built in 1857 and still stands. Landseer soon opened a general store and Post Office. He bought machinery from the original Pavy flour mill and built a new one in 1871. Around this time he also erected a large wool store and other warehouses along Duranda Terrace making him the main businessman in town. Milang blossomed overnight on the expectation of successful river trading. A South Australian Register newspaper article in 1857 described the new town thus: “Milang is becoming a very bustling little port and will shortly grow into a place of importance. Already it has two inns, a steam mill, a store of some extent, a chapel in the course of erection, a timber yard and a jetty on which there were lying on Tuesday the Symmetry twenty five tons, the Blue Jacket five tons and the Enterprise eight tons. There are now about one hundred and ten souls in the township and several hundred settlers within a radius of two or three miles. Cultivation is progressing extensively and wheat and flour are continuously shipped, and also silver and lead from Strathalbyn and the Wheal Ellen mines.” Alas Milang is no longer a bustling port or town!

 

As with most other towns the first public structures were the two hotels and the early school room in 1856. This purpose built school is still in use. The first church erected was the Church of Christ in Coxe Street in 1857. This church was enlarged in 1899 and again in 1901. By 1866 Milang had two further churches the Primitive Methodist erected in 1866 in Chapel Street and the Congregational Church erected in 1862 in Stephenson Street. The Congregational Church originally had a thatched roof and it is now the Uniting Church. The Anglican Church was not built until 1911 and its completion was financially assisted by the Dunk family. Before then Anglican services were conducted in the Institute building. Mrs Landseer laid the foundation stone of the Institute in January 1884. James Rankine of Strathalbyn opened the Institute later that year. By 1890 it was free of debt and in 1917 further additions were made to it. A District Council was formed in Milang in 1855 and the first meetings were held in nearby Belvedere. A police station opened in Milang in 1865 but Milang began to slide backwards shortly after that. The tramway to Strathalbyn in 1869 bypassed Milang despite pleas for it to travel via Milang. However they did get a rail line in 1884 to link with the Adelaide line at Sandergrove. In 1893 a butter factory opened in Milang, the Lakeside Butter Factory which exported local butter to England. It closed in 1915. It re-opened some time later and was still operating in the 1930s. The infamous shacks along the lake foreshore were built around 1948. The Milang Progress Association controlled the area until the local Council resumed control in 1967. Despite government threats to their existence the shack owners have had several reprieves and they are still there.

 

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Sequoia National Park is an American national park in the southern Sierra Nevada east of Visalia, California. The park was established on September 25, 1890, to protect 404,064 acres (631 sq mi; 163,519 ha; 1,635 km2) of forested mountainous terrain. Encompassing a vertical relief of nearly 13,000 feet (4,000 m), the park contains the highest point in the contiguous United States, Mount Whitney, at 14,505 feet (4,421 m) above sea level. The park is south of, and contiguous with, Kings Canyon National Park; both parks are administered by the National Park Service together as the Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. UNESCO designated the areas as Sequoia-Kings Canyon Biosphere Reserve in 1976.

 

The park is notable for its giant sequoia trees, including the General Sherman tree, the largest tree on Earth by volume. The General Sherman tree grows in the Giant Forest, which contains five of the ten largest trees in the world. The Giant Forest is connected by the Generals Highway to Kings Canyon National Park's General Grant Grove, home of the General Grant tree among other giant sequoias. The park's giant sequoia forests are part of 202,430 acres (316 sq mi; 81,921 ha; 819 km2) of old-growth forests shared by Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. The parks preserve a landscape that was first cultivated by the Monachee tribe, the southern Sierra Nevada before Euro-American settlement.

 

The national park was partially closed in September 2020 due to the Sequoia Complex wildfire, and again from mid-September through mid-December 2021 due to the KNP Complex Fire.

 

Many park visitors enter Sequoia National Park through its southern entrance near the town of Three Rivers at Ash Mountain at 1,700 ft (520 m) elevation. The lower elevations around Ash Mountain contain the only National Park Service-protected California Foothills ecosystem, consisting of blue oak woodlands, foothills chaparral, grasslands, yucca plants, and steep, mild river valleys. Seasonal weather results in a changing landscape throughout the foothills with hot summer yielding an arid landscape while spring and winter rains result in blossoming wildflowers and lush greens. The region is also home to abundant wildlife: bobcats, foxes, ground squirrels, rattlesnakes, and mule deer are commonly seen in this area, and more rarely, reclusive mountain lions and the Pacific fisher are seen as well. The last California grizzly was killed in this park in 1922 (at Horse Corral Meadow). The California Black Oak is a key transition species between the chaparral and higher elevation conifer forest.

 

At higher elevations in the front country, between 5,500 and 9,000 feet (1,700 and 2,700 m) in elevation, the landscape becomes montane forest-dominated coniferous belt. Found here are Ponderosa, Jeffrey, sugar, and lodgepole pine trees, as well as abundant white and red fir. Found here too are the giant sequoia trees, the most massive living single-stem trees on earth. Between the trees, spring and summer snowmelts sometimes fan out to form lush, though delicate, meadows. In this region, visitors often see mule deer, Douglas squirrels, and American black bears, which sometimes break into unattended cars to eat food left by careless visitors. There are plans to reintroduce the bighorn sheep to this park.

 

The vast majority of the park is roadless wilderness; no road crosses the Sierra Nevada within the park's boundaries. 84 percent of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks is designated wilderness and is accessible only by foot or by horseback. The majority was designated Sequoia-Kings Canyon Wilderness in 1984 and the southwest portion was protected as John Krebs Wilderness in 2009.

 

Sequoia's backcountry offers a vast expanse of high-alpine wonders. Covering the highest-elevation region of the High Sierra, the backcountry includes Mount Whitney on the eastern border of the park, accessible from the Giant Forest via the High Sierra Trail. On a traveler's path along this 35-mile (56 km) backcountry trail, one passes through about 10 miles (16 km) of montane forest before reaching the backcountry resort of Bearpaw Meadow, just short of the Great Western Divide.

 

Continuing along the High Sierra Trail over the Great Western Divide via Kaweah Gap, one passes from the Kaweah River Drainage, with its characteristic V-shaped river valleys, and into the Kern River drainage, where an ancient fault line has aided glaciers in the last ice age to create a U-shaped canyon that is almost perfectly straight for nearly 20 miles (32 km). On the floor of this canyon, at least two days hike from the nearest road, is the Kern Canyon hot spring, a popular resting point for weary backpackers. From the floor of Kern Canyon, the trail ascends again over 8,000 ft (2,400 m) to the summit of Mount Whitney. At Mount Whitney, the High Sierra Trail meets with the John Muir Trail and the Pacific Crest Trail, which continue northward along the Sierra crest and into the backcountry of Kings Canyon National Park.

 

The area which now is Sequoia National Park shows evidence of Native American settlement as early as 1000 A.D.[ The area was first home to "Monachee" (Western Mono) Native Americans, who resided mainly in the Kaweah River drainage in the Foothills region of what is now the park, though evidence of seasonal habitation exists as high as the Giant Forest. Members of this tribe were permanent residents of the park, with a population estimate of around 2,000. In the summertime the Tubatulabal Native Americans used the eastern part of the area (the Kern River drainage) as their summer hunting grounds. During this time, the Western Mono tribe would travel over the high mountain passes to trade with tribes to the East. To this day, pictographs can be found at several sites within the park, notably at Hospital Rock and Potwisha, as well as bedrock mortars used to process acorns, a staple food for the Monachee people.

 

The first European settler to homestead in the area was Hale Tharp, who famously built a home out of a hollowed-out fallen giant sequoia log in the Giant Forest next to Log Meadow. Tharp arrived in 1858 to the region and encountered several groups of Native Americans, the largest being around 600 with several other smaller groups found at higher elevations. After becoming friendly with the Western Mono tribe, Tharp was shown the Giant Forest Sequoia Grove. After his settlement, more settlers came around 1860. Shortly thereafter - between 1860 and 1863, epidemics of smallpox, measles, and scarlet fever killed the majority of the Native Americans living in the area. After this, the rest of the Native Americans left with the largest campsite (Hospital Rock) abandoned by 1865. During their time in the area, the Monachee used periodic fire burning to aid in hunting and agriculture. This technique played an important role in the ecology of the region and allowed for a "natural" vegetation cover development. After they left, Tharp and other settlers allowed sheep and cattle to graze the meadow, while at the same time maintaining a respect for the grandeur of the forest and led early battles against logging in the area. From time to time, Tharp received visits from John Muir, who would stay at Tharp's log cabin. Tharp's Log can still be visited today in its original location in the Giant Forest.

 

However, Tharp's attempts to conserve the giant sequoias were at first met with only limited success. In the 1880s, white settlers seeking to create a utopian society founded the Kaweah Colony, which sought economic success in trading Sequoia timber. However, Giant Sequoia trees, unlike their coast redwood relatives, were later discovered to splinter easily and therefore were ill-suited to timber harvesting, though thousands of trees were felled before logging operations finally ceased. The National Park Service incorporated the Giant Forest into Sequoia National Park in 1890, the year of its founding, promptly ceasing all logging operations in the Giant Forest.

 

Another consequence of the Giant Forest becoming Sequoia National Park was the shift in park employment. Prior to the incorporation by the National Park Service, the park was managed by US army troops of the 24th Regiment of Infantry and the 9th Regiment of Cavalry, better known as the Buffalo Soldiers. These segregated troops, founded in 1866, were African-American men from the South, an invaluable demographic to the military with the lowest rates of desertion. The Buffalo Soldiers completed park infrastructure projects as well as park management duties, helping to shape the role of the modern-day park ranger. The Buffalo Soldiers rose to this position due to a lack of funding for the park which led to an inability to hire civilians. The third African American West Point graduate, Captain Charles Young led the cavalries of Buffalo Soldiers in the Sequoia and General Grant Parks. Young landed this post as a result of the segregation rampant throughout the Army: as a black man, he was not permitted to head any combat units. He did, however, demonstrate his leadership capability through his initiatives in the National Park delegating park infrastructure projects, hosting tourists and politicians, and setting a standard of a strong work ethic into his men. Young was also a prominent figure regarding the early conservation of Sequoia National Park. He greenlighted the dedication of trees in honor of prominent figures as a means of promoting their preservation. One such example is the Redwood dedicated to the escaped slave and activist, Booker T Washington. Young also argued to the Secretary of the Interior that the lack of enforcement of forest protection laws allowed the detrimental practices of logging and the popular tourist hobby of carving names into the redwoods to continue. To combat this, Young increased patrolling of troops around heavily trafficked areas and initiated a proposal to buy out private landowners surrounding Sequoia to further buffer the protected area.

 

The land buyouts Young initiated were just the beginning of increasing the area of Sequoia National Park. The park has expanded several times over the decades to its present size; one of the most significant expansions took place in 1926 and was advocated for by Susan Thew Parks. One of the most recent expansions occurred in 1978, when grassroots efforts, spearheaded by the Sierra Club, fought off attempts by the Walt Disney Corporation to purchase a high-alpine former mining site south of the park for use as a ski resort. This site known as Mineral King was annexed to the park. Its name dates back to early 1873 when the miners in the area formed the Mineral King Mining District. Mineral King is the highest-elevation developed site within the park and a popular destination for backpackers.

 

Sequoia National Park contains a significant portion of the Sierra Nevada. The park's mountainous landscape includes the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, Mount Whitney, which rises to 14,505 feet (4,421 m) above sea level. The Great Western Divide parallels the Sierran crest and is visible at various places in the park, for example, Mineral King, Moro Rock, and the Giant Forest. Peaks in the Great Western Divide rise to more than 12,000 feet (3,700 m). Deep canyons lie between the mountains, including Tokopah Valley above Lodgepole, Deep Canyon on the Marble Fork of the Kaweah River, and Kern Canyon in the park's backcountry, which is more than 5,000 feet (1,500 m) deep for 30 miles (48 km).

 

Most of the mountains and canyons in the Sierra Nevada are composed of granitic rocks. These rocks, such as granite, diorite and monzonite, formed when molten rock cooled far beneath the surface of the earth. The molten rock was the result of a geologic process known as subduction. Powerful forces in the earth forced the landmass under the waters of the Pacific Ocean beneath and below an advancing North American Continent. Super-hot water driven from the subducting ocean floor migrated upward and melted rock as it proceeded. This process took place during the Cretaceous Period, 100 million years ago. Granitic rocks have a speckled salt-and-pepper appearance because they contain various minerals including quartz, feldspars and micas. Valhalla, or the Angel Wings, are prominent granitic cliffs that rise above the headwaters of the Middle Fork of the Kaweah River.

 

The Sierra Nevada is a young mountain range, probably not more than 10 million years old. Forces in the earth, probably associated with the development of the Great Basin, forced the mountains to rise. During the last 10 million years, at least four ice ages have coated the mountains in a thick mantle of ice. Glaciers form and develop during long periods of cool and wet weather. Glaciers move very slowly through the mountains, carving deep valleys and craggy peaks. The extensive history of glaciation within the range and the erosion resistant nature of the granitic rocks that make up most of the Sierra Nevada have together created a landscape of hanging valleys, waterfalls, craggy peaks, alpine lakes (such as Tulainyo Lake) and glacial canyons.

 

Park caves, like most caves in the Sierra Nevada of California, are mostly solutional caves dissolved from marble. Marble rock is essentially limestone that was metamorphosed by the heat and pressure of the formation and uplift of the Sierra Nevada Batholith. The batholith's rapid uplift over the past 10 million years led to a rapid erosion of the metamorphic rocks in the higher elevations, exposing the granite beneath; therefore, most Sierra Nevada caves are found in the middle and lower elevations (below 7,000 ft or 2,100 m), though some caves are found in the park at elevations as high as 10,000 ft (3,000 m) such as the White Chief cave and Cirque Cave in Mineral King. These caves are carved out of the rock by the abundant seasonal streams in the park. Most of the larger park caves have, or have had, sinking streams running through them.

 

The park contains more than 270 known caves, including Lilburn Cave which is California's longest cave with nearly 17 miles (27 km) of surveyed passages. The only commercial cave open to park visitors is Crystal Cave, the park's second-longest cave at over 3.4 miles (5.5 km). Crystal Cave was discovered on April 28, 1918, by Alex Medley and Cassius Webster. The cave is a constant 48 °F (9 °C), and is only accessible by guided tour.

 

Caves are discovered every year in the park with the most recently discovered major cave being Ursa Minor in August 2006.

 

According to the A. W. Kuchler U.S. Potential natural vegetation Types, Sequoia National Park encompasses five classifications listed here from highest to lowest elevation; Alpine tundra & barren vegetation type with an Alpine tundra vegetation form...Pinus contorta/ Subalpine zone vegetation type with a California Conifer Forest vegetation form...Abies magnifica vegetation type with a California Conifer Forest vegetation form...Mixed conifer vegetation type with a California Conifer Forest vegetation form...and Chaparral vegetation type with a California chaparral and woodlands vegetation form.

 

Animals that inhabit this park are coyote, badger, black bear, bighorn sheep, deer, fox, cougar, eleven species of woodpecker, various species of turtle, three species of owl, opossum, various species of snake, wolverine, beaver, various species of frog, and muskrat.

 

California is a state in the Western United States, located along the Pacific Coast. With nearly 39.2 million residents across a total area of approximately 163,696 square miles (423,970 km2), it is the most populous U.S. state and the 3rd largest by area. It is also the most populated subnational entity in North America and the 34th most populous in the world. The Greater Los Angeles area and the San Francisco Bay Area are the nation's second and fifth most populous urban regions respectively, with the former having more than 18.7 million residents and the latter having over 9.6 million. Sacramento is the state's capital, while Los Angeles is the most populous city in the state and the second most populous city in the country. San Francisco is the second most densely populated major city in the country. Los Angeles County is the country's most populous, while San Bernardino County is the largest county by area in the country. California borders Oregon to the north, Nevada and Arizona to the east, the Mexican state of Baja California to the south; and has a coastline along the Pacific Ocean to the west.

 

The economy of the state of California is the largest in the United States, with a $3.4 trillion gross state product (GSP) as of 2022. It is the largest sub-national economy in the world. If California were a sovereign nation, it would rank as the world's fifth-largest economy as of 2022, behind Germany and ahead of India, as well as the 37th most populous. The Greater Los Angeles area and the San Francisco Bay Area are the nation's second- and third-largest urban economies ($1.0 trillion and $0.5 trillion respectively as of 2020). The San Francisco Bay Area Combined Statistical Area had the nation's highest gross domestic product per capita ($106,757) among large primary statistical areas in 2018, and is home to five of the world's ten largest companies by market capitalization and four of the world's ten richest people.

 

Prior to European colonization, California was one of the most culturally and linguistically diverse areas in pre-Columbian North America and contained the highest Native American population density north of what is now Mexico. European exploration in the 16th and 17th centuries led to the colonization of California by the Spanish Empire. In 1804, it was included in Alta California province within the Viceroyalty of New Spain. The area became a part of Mexico in 1821, following its successful war for independence, but was ceded to the United States in 1848 after the Mexican–American War. The California Gold Rush started in 1848 and led to dramatic social and demographic changes, including large-scale immigration into California, a worldwide economic boom, and the California genocide of indigenous people. The western portion of Alta California was then organized and admitted as the 31st state on September 9, 1850, following the Compromise of 1850.

 

Notable contributions to popular culture, for example in entertainment and sports, have their origins in California. The state also has made noteworthy contributions in the fields of communication, information, innovation, environmentalism, economics, and politics. It is the home of Hollywood, the oldest and one of the largest film industries in the world, which has had a profound influence upon global entertainment. It is considered the origin of the hippie counterculture, beach and car culture, and the personal computer, among other innovations. The San Francisco Bay Area and the Greater Los Angeles Area are widely seen as the centers of the global technology and film industries, respectively. California's economy is very diverse: 58% of it is based on finance, government, real estate services, technology, and professional, scientific, and technical business services. Although it accounts for only 1.5% of the state's economy, California's agriculture industry has the highest output of any U.S. state. California's ports and harbors handle about a third of all U.S. imports, most originating in Pacific Rim international trade.

 

The state's extremely diverse geography ranges from the Pacific Coast and metropolitan areas in the west to the Sierra Nevada mountains in the east, and from the redwood and Douglas fir forests in the northwest to the Mojave Desert in the southeast. The Central Valley, a major agricultural area, dominates the state's center. California is well known for its warm Mediterranean climate and monsoon seasonal weather. The large size of the state results in climates that vary from moist temperate rainforest in the north to arid desert in the interior, as well as snowy alpine in the mountains.

 

Settled by successive waves of arrivals during at least the last 13,000 years, California was one of the most culturally and linguistically diverse areas in pre-Columbian North America. Various estimates of the native population have ranged from 100,000 to 300,000. The indigenous peoples of California included more than 70 distinct ethnic groups, inhabiting environments from mountains and deserts to islands and redwood forests. These groups were also diverse in their political organization, with bands, tribes, villages, and on the resource-rich coasts, large chiefdoms, such as the Chumash, Pomo and Salinan. Trade, intermarriage and military alliances fostered social and economic relationships between many groups.

 

The first Europeans to explore the coast of California were the members of a Spanish maritime expedition led by Portuguese captain Juan Rodríguez Cabrillo in 1542. Cabrillo was commissioned by Antonio de Mendoza, the Viceroy of New Spain, to lead an expedition up the Pacific coast in search of trade opportunities; they entered San Diego Bay on September 28, 1542, and reached at least as far north as San Miguel Island. Privateer and explorer Francis Drake explored and claimed an undefined portion of the California coast in 1579, landing north of the future city of San Francisco. Sebastián Vizcaíno explored and mapped the coast of California in 1602 for New Spain, putting ashore in Monterey. Despite the on-the-ground explorations of California in the 16th century, Rodríguez's idea of California as an island persisted. Such depictions appeared on many European maps well into the 18th century.

 

The Portolá expedition of 1769-70 was a pivotal event in the Spanish colonization of California, resulting in the establishment of numerous missions, presidios, and pueblos. The military and civil contingent of the expedition was led by Gaspar de Portolá, who traveled over land from Sonora into California, while the religious component was headed by Junípero Serra, who came by sea from Baja California. In 1769, Portolá and Serra established Mission San Diego de Alcalá and the Presidio of San Diego, the first religious and military settlements founded by the Spanish in California. By the end of the expedition in 1770, they would establish the Presidio of Monterey and Mission San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo on Monterey Bay.

 

After the Portolà expedition, Spanish missionaries led by Father-President Serra set out to establish 21 Spanish missions of California along El Camino Real ("The Royal Road") and along the Californian coast, 16 sites of which having been chosen during the Portolá expedition. Numerous major cities in California grew out of missions, including San Francisco (Mission San Francisco de Asís), San Diego (Mission San Diego de Alcalá), Ventura (Mission San Buenaventura), or Santa Barbara (Mission Santa Barbara), among others.

 

Juan Bautista de Anza led a similarly important expedition throughout California in 1775–76, which would extend deeper into the interior and north of California. The Anza expedition selected numerous sites for missions, presidios, and pueblos, which subsequently would be established by settlers. Gabriel Moraga, a member of the expedition, would also christen many of California's prominent rivers with their names in 1775–1776, such as the Sacramento River and the San Joaquin River. After the expedition, Gabriel's son, José Joaquín Moraga, would found the pueblo of San Jose in 1777, making it the first civilian-established city in California.

  

The Spanish founded Mission San Juan Capistrano in 1776, the third to be established of the Californian missions.

During this same period, sailors from the Russian Empire explored along the northern coast of California. In 1812, the Russian-American Company established a trading post and small fortification at Fort Ross on the North Coast. Fort Ross was primarily used to supply Russia's Alaskan colonies with food supplies. The settlement did not meet much success, failing to attract settlers or establish long term trade viability, and was abandoned by 1841.

 

During the War of Mexican Independence, Alta California was largely unaffected and uninvolved in the revolution, though many Californios supported independence from Spain, which many believed had neglected California and limited its development. Spain's trade monopoly on California had limited the trade prospects of Californians. Following Mexican independence, Californian ports were freely able to trade with foreign merchants. Governor Pablo Vicente de Solá presided over the transition from Spanish colonial rule to independent.

 

In 1821, the Mexican War of Independence gave the Mexican Empire (which included California) independence from Spain. For the next 25 years, Alta California remained a remote, sparsely populated, northwestern administrative district of the newly independent country of Mexico, which shortly after independence became a republic. The missions, which controlled most of the best land in the state, were secularized by 1834 and became the property of the Mexican government. The governor granted many square leagues of land to others with political influence. These huge ranchos or cattle ranches emerged as the dominant institutions of Mexican California. The ranchos developed under ownership by Californios (Hispanics native of California) who traded cowhides and tallow with Boston merchants. Beef did not become a commodity until the 1849 California Gold Rush.

 

From the 1820s, trappers and settlers from the United States and Canada began to arrive in Northern California. These new arrivals used the Siskiyou Trail, California Trail, Oregon Trail and Old Spanish Trail to cross the rugged mountains and harsh deserts in and surrounding California. The early government of the newly independent Mexico was highly unstable, and in a reflection of this, from 1831 onwards, California also experienced a series of armed disputes, both internal and with the central Mexican government. During this tumultuous political period Juan Bautista Alvarado was able to secure the governorship during 1836–1842. The military action which first brought Alvarado to power had momentarily declared California to be an independent state, and had been aided by Anglo-American residents of California, including Isaac Graham. In 1840, one hundred of those residents who did not have passports were arrested, leading to the Graham Affair, which was resolved in part with the intercession of Royal Navy officials.

 

One of the largest ranchers in California was John Marsh. After failing to obtain justice against squatters on his land from the Mexican courts, he determined that California should become part of the United States. Marsh conducted a letter-writing campaign espousing the California climate, the soil, and other reasons to settle there, as well as the best route to follow, which became known as "Marsh's route". His letters were read, reread, passed around, and printed in newspapers throughout the country, and started the first wagon trains rolling to California. He invited immigrants to stay on his ranch until they could get settled, and assisted in their obtaining passports.

 

After ushering in the period of organized emigration to California, Marsh became involved in a military battle between the much-hated Mexican general, Manuel Micheltorena and the California governor he had replaced, Juan Bautista Alvarado. The armies of each met at the Battle of Providencia near Los Angeles. Marsh had been forced against his will to join Micheltorena's army. Ignoring his superiors, during the battle, he signaled the other side for a parley. There were many settlers from the United States fighting on both sides. He convinced these men that they had no reason to be fighting each other. As a result of Marsh's actions, they abandoned the fight, Micheltorena was defeated, and California-born Pio Pico was returned to the governorship. This paved the way to California's ultimate acquisition by the United States.

 

In 1846, a group of American settlers in and around Sonoma rebelled against Mexican rule during the Bear Flag Revolt. Afterward, rebels raised the Bear Flag (featuring a bear, a star, a red stripe and the words "California Republic") at Sonoma. The Republic's only president was William B. Ide,[65] who played a pivotal role during the Bear Flag Revolt. This revolt by American settlers served as a prelude to the later American military invasion of California and was closely coordinated with nearby American military commanders.

 

The California Republic was short-lived; the same year marked the outbreak of the Mexican–American War (1846–48).

 

Commodore John D. Sloat of the United States Navy sailed into Monterey Bay in 1846 and began the U.S. military invasion of California, with Northern California capitulating in less than a month to the United States forces. In Southern California, Californios continued to resist American forces. Notable military engagements of the conquest include the Battle of San Pasqual and the Battle of Dominguez Rancho in Southern California, as well as the Battle of Olómpali and the Battle of Santa Clara in Northern California. After a series of defensive battles in the south, the Treaty of Cahuenga was signed by the Californios on January 13, 1847, securing a censure and establishing de facto American control in California.

 

Following the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo (February 2, 1848) that ended the war, the westernmost portion of the annexed Mexican territory of Alta California soon became the American state of California, and the remainder of the old territory was then subdivided into the new American Territories of Arizona, Nevada, Colorado and Utah. The even more lightly populated and arid lower region of old Baja California remained as a part of Mexico. In 1846, the total settler population of the western part of the old Alta California had been estimated to be no more than 8,000, plus about 100,000 Native Americans, down from about 300,000 before Hispanic settlement in 1769.

 

In 1848, only one week before the official American annexation of the area, gold was discovered in California, this being an event which was to forever alter both the state's demographics and its finances. Soon afterward, a massive influx of immigration into the area resulted, as prospectors and miners arrived by the thousands. The population burgeoned with United States citizens, Europeans, Chinese and other immigrants during the great California Gold Rush. By the time of California's application for statehood in 1850, the settler population of California had multiplied to 100,000. By 1854, more than 300,000 settlers had come. Between 1847 and 1870, the population of San Francisco increased from 500 to 150,000.

 

The seat of government for California under Spanish and later Mexican rule had been located in Monterey from 1777 until 1845. Pio Pico, the last Mexican governor of Alta California, had briefly moved the capital to Los Angeles in 1845. The United States consulate had also been located in Monterey, under consul Thomas O. Larkin.

 

In 1849, a state Constitutional Convention was first held in Monterey. Among the first tasks of the convention was a decision on a location for the new state capital. The first full legislative sessions were held in San Jose (1850–1851). Subsequent locations included Vallejo (1852–1853), and nearby Benicia (1853–1854); these locations eventually proved to be inadequate as well. The capital has been located in Sacramento since 1854 with only a short break in 1862 when legislative sessions were held in San Francisco due to flooding in Sacramento. Once the state's Constitutional Convention had finalized its state constitution, it applied to the U.S. Congress for admission to statehood. On September 9, 1850, as part of the Compromise of 1850, California became a free state and September 9 a state holiday.

 

During the American Civil War (1861–1865), California sent gold shipments eastward to Washington in support of the Union. However, due to the existence of a large contingent of pro-South sympathizers within the state, the state was not able to muster any full military regiments to send eastwards to officially serve in the Union war effort. Still, several smaller military units within the Union army were unofficially associated with the state of California, such as the "California 100 Company", due to a majority of their members being from California.

 

At the time of California's admission into the Union, travel between California and the rest of the continental United States had been a time-consuming and dangerous feat. Nineteen years later, and seven years after it was greenlighted by President Lincoln, the First transcontinental railroad was completed in 1869. California was then reachable from the eastern States in a week's time.

 

Much of the state was extremely well suited to fruit cultivation and agriculture in general. Vast expanses of wheat, other cereal crops, vegetable crops, cotton, and nut and fruit trees were grown (including oranges in Southern California), and the foundation was laid for the state's prodigious agricultural production in the Central Valley and elsewhere.

 

In the nineteenth century, a large number of migrants from China traveled to the state as part of the Gold Rush or to seek work. Even though the Chinese proved indispensable in building the transcontinental railroad from California to Utah, perceived job competition with the Chinese led to anti-Chinese riots in the state, and eventually the US ended migration from China partially as a response to pressure from California with the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act.

 

Under earlier Spanish and Mexican rule, California's original native population had precipitously declined, above all, from Eurasian diseases to which the indigenous people of California had not yet developed a natural immunity. Under its new American administration, California's harsh governmental policies towards its own indigenous people did not improve. As in other American states, many of the native inhabitants were soon forcibly removed from their lands by incoming American settlers such as miners, ranchers, and farmers. Although California had entered the American union as a free state, the "loitering or orphaned Indians" were de facto enslaved by their new Anglo-American masters under the 1853 Act for the Government and Protection of Indians. There were also massacres in which hundreds of indigenous people were killed.

 

Between 1850 and 1860, the California state government paid around 1.5 million dollars (some 250,000 of which was reimbursed by the federal government) to hire militias whose purpose was to protect settlers from the indigenous populations. In later decades, the native population was placed in reservations and rancherias, which were often small and isolated and without enough natural resources or funding from the government to sustain the populations living on them. As a result, the rise of California was a calamity for the native inhabitants. Several scholars and Native American activists, including Benjamin Madley and Ed Castillo, have described the actions of the California government as a genocide.

 

In the twentieth century, thousands of Japanese people migrated to the US and California specifically to attempt to purchase and own land in the state. However, the state in 1913 passed the Alien Land Act, excluding Asian immigrants from owning land. During World War II, Japanese Americans in California were interned in concentration camps such as at Tule Lake and Manzanar. In 2020, California officially apologized for this internment.

 

Migration to California accelerated during the early 20th century with the completion of major transcontinental highways like the Lincoln Highway and Route 66. In the period from 1900 to 1965, the population grew from fewer than one million to the greatest in the Union. In 1940, the Census Bureau reported California's population as 6.0% Hispanic, 2.4% Asian, and 89.5% non-Hispanic white.

 

To meet the population's needs, major engineering feats like the California and Los Angeles Aqueducts; the Oroville and Shasta Dams; and the Bay and Golden Gate Bridges were built across the state. The state government also adopted the California Master Plan for Higher Education in 1960 to develop a highly efficient system of public education.

 

Meanwhile, attracted to the mild Mediterranean climate, cheap land, and the state's wide variety of geography, filmmakers established the studio system in Hollywood in the 1920s. California manufactured 8.7 percent of total United States military armaments produced during World War II, ranking third (behind New York and Michigan) among the 48 states. California however easily ranked first in production of military ships during the war (transport, cargo, [merchant ships] such as Liberty ships, Victory ships, and warships) at drydock facilities in San Diego, Los Angeles, and the San Francisco Bay Area. After World War II, California's economy greatly expanded due to strong aerospace and defense industries, whose size decreased following the end of the Cold War. Stanford University and its Dean of Engineering Frederick Terman began encouraging faculty and graduates to stay in California instead of leaving the state, and develop a high-tech region in the area now known as Silicon Valley. As a result of these efforts, California is regarded as a world center of the entertainment and music industries, of technology, engineering, and the aerospace industry, and as the United States center of agricultural production. Just before the Dot Com Bust, California had the fifth-largest economy in the world among nations.

 

In the mid and late twentieth century, a number of race-related incidents occurred in the state. Tensions between police and African Americans, combined with unemployment and poverty in inner cities, led to violent riots, such as the 1965 Watts riots and 1992 Rodney King riots. California was also the hub of the Black Panther Party, a group known for arming African Americans to defend against racial injustice and for organizing free breakfast programs for schoolchildren. Additionally, Mexican, Filipino, and other migrant farm workers rallied in the state around Cesar Chavez for better pay in the 1960s and 1970s.

 

During the 20th century, two great disasters happened in California. The 1906 San Francisco earthquake and 1928 St. Francis Dam flood remain the deadliest in U.S. history.

 

Although air pollution problems have been reduced, health problems associated with pollution have continued. The brown haze known as "smog" has been substantially abated after the passage of federal and state restrictions on automobile exhaust.

 

An energy crisis in 2001 led to rolling blackouts, soaring power rates, and the importation of electricity from neighboring states. Southern California Edison and Pacific Gas and Electric Company came under heavy criticism.

 

Housing prices in urban areas continued to increase; a modest home which in the 1960s cost $25,000 would cost half a million dollars or more in urban areas by 2005. More people commuted longer hours to afford a home in more rural areas while earning larger salaries in the urban areas. Speculators bought houses they never intended to live in, expecting to make a huge profit in a matter of months, then rolling it over by buying more properties. Mortgage companies were compliant, as everyone assumed the prices would keep rising. The bubble burst in 2007–8 as housing prices began to crash and the boom years ended. Hundreds of billions in property values vanished and foreclosures soared as many financial institutions and investors were badly hurt.

 

In the twenty-first century, droughts and frequent wildfires attributed to climate change have occurred in the state. From 2011 to 2017, a persistent drought was the worst in its recorded history. The 2018 wildfire season was the state's deadliest and most destructive, most notably Camp Fire.

 

Although air pollution problems have been reduced, health problems associated with pollution have continued. The brown haze that is known as "smog" has been substantially abated thanks to federal and state restrictions on automobile exhaust.

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20201212_Scout_BedtimeStoryPlease

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 she is at home in her drawing room, entertaining her old childhood chum Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy whose family, unlike Lettice’s, are in straitened circumstances owing to Gerald’s father, Lord Bruton, refusing to modernise and move with the times. Gerald has gained some independence from his family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street. His atelier has received some favourable reviews over the last few years and his couturier is finally starting to turn a profit thanks to an expanding clientele.

 

“Well,” Gerald exclaims as he languidly sinks back into the rounded back of one of Lettice’s white upholstered Art Deco tub armchairs. “Who’d ever have imagined you working for Dolly Hatchett again?”

 

Lettice has recently agreed to redecorate the first floor principle rooms of the newly acquired Queen Anne’s Gate* townhouse of Dolly Hatchett, wife of the Labour MP for Tower Hamlets**, Charles Hatchett. Lettice decorated their Sussex home, ‘The Gables’ in picturesque country style in 1921, much to her parent’s horror, firstly because Mrs. Hatchett was a chorus girl before becoming Charles Hatchett’s wife, and secondly because Mr. Hatchett was aspiring to be a Labor politician at the time.

 

“Whatever do you mean, Gerald darling?” Lettice asks.

 

“I always thought I was going to be the only one out of the two of us courting Mrs. Middling-Mediocre-Middle-Class for business!” Gerald replies with arched eyebrows.

 

“Mrs. Hatchett came to me, thank you Gerald,” Lettice corrects. “Not the other way around. And I see you are still being as much of a snob towards poor Mrs. Hatchett as you were when I first introduced you. You have a great deal to thank Mrs. Hatchett for.”

 

“I’m only teasing, Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald counters with a smirk as he uses Lettice’s hated childhood nickname.

 

“Don’t call me that Gerald! You know how much I hate it! “ scowls Lettice. “We aren’t five anymore.”

 

“I know! You are far too easy to tease, Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald persists, eliciting a shudder from Lettice. “Anyway, I know I owe a great deal of my success to Dolly Hatchett. She may only have been middling middle-class when you introduced us, but her circle of influence now has brought in more than a few high profile and wealthy clients for me to dress.”

 

“Aha!” Lettice crows.

 

“However, what surprises me is that you are taking her on again after all that bloodiness*** with your family, what with Chalie Hatchett being a Labor MP and all that, darling.”

 

“Well, Mater and Pater don’t actually know about it yet.” Lettice admits guiltily, casting her eyes downwards demurely for a moment as her face flushes with embarrassment.

 

“Oh!” Gerald opines, cupping his face in his hands and pulling a dramatic face like Munch’s ‘The Scream’****

 

“But I will!” Lettice hurriedly adds.

 

“I thought you were in the bad books with your parents enough as it is, what with your engagement to scandalously lecherous Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.”

 

For nearly a year Lettice had been patiently awaiting the return of her then 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. Having been made aware by Lady Zinnia in October 1924 that during the course of the year, whilst Lettice had been biding her time, waiting for Selwyn’s eventual return, he had become engaged to the daughter of a Kenyan diamond mine owner whilst in Durban. Fleeing Lady Zinnia’s Park Lane mansion, Lettice paid a call upon Sir John Nettleford-Hughes. Old enough to be her father, wealthy Sir John, according to London society gossip enjoys a string of dalliances with 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 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. To her surprise, Lettice found Sir John’s company rather enjoyable. She then ran into him again at the Portland Gallery’s 1924 autumn show in Soho, 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. In an effort to be discreet, at Lettice’s insistence, they did not make their engagement public until the New Year. When Sir John and Lettice announced their engagement in the palatial Glynes drawing room before Lettice’s parents, the Viscount and Lady Sadie the Countess, Lettice’s elder brother Leslie and his wife Arabella, and the Viscount’s sister Eglantyne (known by all the Chetwynd children affectionally as Aunt Egg), it was received somewhat awkwardly by the Viscount initially, until Lettice assured him that her choice to marry Sir John has nothing to do with undue influence or mistaken motivations. The rest of the family were equally ambivalent, or even hostilely against the marriage.

 

“Now don’t tell me that you’ve turned against me now too, Gerald darling!” Lettice mewls as she sits forward in her seat. “Oh you can’t! You just can’t! What with Mater and Pater being lukewarm about my engagement at best, Lally being so beastly about the wedding, and Aunt Egg being totally against the idea, I need someone in my corner! Even Margot and Dickie aren’t keen on my marriage to John. Please Gerald!”

 

“Calm yourself Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald replies, sitting forward in his seat, raising his hands in both a defensive and an assuring gesture. “Of course I’m not turning against you! Don’t overreact and jump to conclusions. We have enough drama queens***** at Hattie’s.” He remarks coolly, mentioning the boarding house full of theatrical homosexuals, including his own West End oboist lover Cyril, run by his friend Harriet Milford. “You’re my best friend, and keeper of all my deepest and darkest confidences.” He coughs awkwardly. “Well, most of them anyway. You know I can’t even marry my lover, so how can I possibly stand piously in judgement over your choices?”

 

“You do judge me though, don’t you Gerald.” Lettice counters. “Be honest.”

 

“I can’t say that the path you’ve chosen to take with Sir John is one I’d have intended for you, Lettice darling.” he admits. “I would much rather have seen you happily in a love match and married to Selwyn Spencely, rather than in a marriage of convenience that is more like a business proposal with Sir John. You know I’ve never been keen on Sir John because of his reputation as a philanderer with a string of Gaiety Girls****** in his wake. However, since Selwyn surprised us all by breaking his well fashioned mould of being a decent and respectable chap by deserting you for a diamond mine owner’s daughter, I can hardly blame you for seeking affection elsewhere.” He looks earnestly at his friend across the low black japanned coffee table. “I just want you to be happy, Lettice darling. That’s all. If you say you can be happy with Sir John, then I’ll support you.”

 

“Oh, thank you darling!” Lettice sighs, releasing the pent-up breath she has been unaware of holding on to. “That means the world to me. I will be happy with Sir John.” she assures her friend. “At least he has made sure that I’m going in with my eyes open.”

 

“That’s good.” Gerald opines.

 

“And he has said that he will allow me to break our engagement if I so choose to do.”

 

“That’s even better and very magnanimous of him, although in saying that, it is usually the lady’s prerogative to break her engagement if she so chooses.”

 

“Well, I’m not going to, am I?” Lettice asks rhetorically. “But going to back to my parents and Mrs. Hatchett,” she remarks, carefully steering the conversation back to safer territory. “I don’t think they’ll particularly like it, but since my interior design business has become such a success, I hardly think they can object to her.”

 

“Don’t you believe it, Lettice darling.” Gerald remarks doubtfully. “Sadie will make her opinions clear.”

 

“I’m not so sure she will now.” Lettice counters confidently. “And even if she does, Dolly Hatchett is hardly the awkward, mousy and unsure wife of a banker we met in 1921. I think you’ve done wonders transforming her into the suitable wife successful MP for Towers Hamlets, Charles Hatchett, needs.”

 

“They say that ‘clothes maketh the man’, so why not the woman?” Gerald replies, settling back into his chair. “The power of clothes can be transformative.”

 

“I agree, Gerald darling. She’s so self-assured and self-possessed now. I was really remarkably surprised when we met again! She is transformed.”

 

“Oh she is still little Dolly Hatchett the chorus girl from Chu Chin Chow******* under the layers of crêpe de chiné, satin and velvet, Lettice darling.”

 

Lettice laughs. “She said the very same thing to me when I saw her.”

 

“All the same, transformation or not, I don’t think Sadie will like you taking Dolly Hatchett on as a client again. In Sadie’s eyes she is still, and always will be, a little social climbing parvenu. The fact she is on the wrong side of politics only makes her existence in your life, however transient, all the worse. I think the only sin you could commit that could possibly be worse would be to take on Wanetta Ward the American moving picture actress again.”

 

“Well, luckily for me then, Miss Ward is currently on a break from the Gainsborough Studios******** filming schedule and is in America.”

 

“I thought she was estranged from her parents.”

 

“She hasn’t gone to see her parents. The bright lights of Los Angeles and the American motion picture industry have wooed her. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if one of those new Hollywood moving picture studios doesn’t offer her a contract.”

 

“Big enough to break the one she has with Gainsborough?”

 

“I can imagine it. You’ve seen her, darling. She is a moving picture star, and if Edith is anything to go by, the kinema********* public will follow her, no matter where she goes, and that means they can make more money with her potential.”

 

“Hhhmmm…” Gerald purrs.

 

“What?” Lettice asks.

 

“Maybe I was wrong about you, Lettice darling?”

 

“Me?” Lettice raises a hand to her throat. “How?”

 

“Well, listening to the way you are talking so openly about money, maybe you are better suited to a marriage of convenience and business arrangement with Sir John, rather than a love match with Selwyn. I can’t imagine the despicable Duchess, Lady Zinna, approving of you speaking so candidly about money!”

 

“Oh pooh Lady Zinnia!” Lettice replies defiantly, flapping her hand at Gerald as if trying to sweep the phantom of the Duchess of Walmsford away. “I won’t have her name spoken here!”

 

However, as Lettice settles back in her seat, smiling, there is a sadness in the corners of her painted lips. Selwyn’s rejection of her by breaking her engagement, and the way she was told with glee and unbridled delight by his mother still hurts her deeply, and for all her bravado with her marriage of convenience with Sir John, like Gerald, she too would have preferred a love match with Selwyn Spencely to a business arrangement with Sir John in her heart of hearts. She sniffs and sighs quietly to herself as she ponders the thought of her upcoming marriage. Whilst she and Sir John haven’t set a date yet, the engagement has been announced in The Times and it won’t be too long before they will have to choose a day, or at the very least a month for their wedding. Long engagements are less popular in the class of Sir John and Lettice’s parents than they are in the middle and lower classes where money must be saved and households arranged.

 

“Thinking of Edith,” Gerald interrupts Lettice’s thoughts. “Where has she gotten to? I thought she was supposed to be making us some tea.”

 

Lettice glances up at the brightly painted clock on the mantle and looks at the sunflower yellow face as it reads ten past eleven. “Goodness, I was so lost in our conversation, I’d completely forgotten our elevenses!”

 

“Well, my stomach certainly hasn’t.” Gerald replies, stroking the pale blue pin stripped cream flannel of his double breasted summer suit stretched over his stomach. “I’m hoping Edith has some of her home made sponge cake for us as a treat. I say Lettice darling, do you think she might?”

 

“I couldn’t say.” Lettice remarks, standing up and sauntering over to the servant’s call bell next to the fireplace and depressing it purposefully, eliciting the hollow tinkling of a bell in the service area of the flat.

 

“Let’s hope so, then.” Gerald replies.

 

“I have to say that’s a rather bold pattern you’re wearing, Gerald.” Lettice remarks, returning to her seat and smoothing the peach, red, blue-grey and black floral pattered silk georgette of her skirt fastidiously across her knee.

 

“Why thank you darling!” Sitting up more straightly in his seat, Gerald smooths his own suit proudly. “American.” he admits with a knowing smile. “I acquired it from a contact of mine in the rag trade********** who traverses the Trans-Atlantic*********** and picked it up in New York. It’s rather fetching, isn’t it?”

 

“Very.” Lettice concurs before adding with an air of desperation. “You will still make my wedding frock won’t you, Gerald darling, even if you don’t altogether approve of my marriage to John?”

 

“Well of course I will, Lettice. Business is business.”

 

“Is that all I am Gerald?” Lettice scoffs jokingly.

 

“And you’re my best friend!” Gerald adds with a cheeky grin and a mischievous glint in his eye. “But I’m not the one you should be asking or talking to about this. Sadie will be the one who will organise your trousseau************ for you.”

 

“Yes, John’s sister Clemance asked me if I’ve spoken to Mater about the idea of her taking over the job of helping me organise and shop for my trousseau.”

 

“Which is why I worry that you are already in enough trouble with this marriage of yours, and your wish for your future sister-in-law to help organise it rather than Sadie, without adding me making your wedding frock and Dolly Hatchett to the mix.”

 

“I’m sure Mater won’t mind if Clemance takes on the job of arranging my trousseau.” Lettice replies with a dismissive wave. “You know how much she hates London at the best of times.”

 

“Yes, but she does rather love clothes, Lettice darling, except mine of course. I’m too close to you and therefore by proxy her, for Sadie to countenance me dressing you for your wedding day.”

 

“She didn’t mind you making Bella’s wedding frock.” Lettice quips.

 

“No, Lady Isobel didn’t mind me making Bella’s wedding frock, Lettice.” He gives his friend a knowing look. “You really need to stop dragging your dainty little heels and put your plan into action if you want to have some say over your wedding clothes. You can’t keep procrastinating. You have to talk to Sadie about it, and soon.” He nods sagely.

 

“I know.” Lettice sighs. “I just dread…”

 

However Lettice is cut off mid-sentence by the appearance of her maid, Edith as she staggers through the green baize door leading from the service part of the flat into the dining room. She and Gerald watch, mesmerised, from the comfort of their seats as Edith slowly traverses the dining room and into the adjoining drawing room, carefully carrying not a tea tray as they expected, but a large and heavy looking wooden crate.

 

“Beg pardon, Miss.” Edith says with a groan, placing the box a little unceremoniously upon the black japanned coffee table. “I know I was meant to be serving tea for you and Mr. Bruton, but this package just arrived for you.”

 

“Oh pooh the tea, Edith!” Gerald says excitedly, his hunger momentarily forgotten as he leans forward and inspects the box with great interest.

 

“Who is it from?” Lettice asks, unable to contain her own excitement as she leans forward in her own seat.

 

“I couldn’t say Miss.” Edith replies curtly, giving her mistress a doubtful look. “The deliveryman simply said that I was to give the box to you in person, and to give you this.” She withdraws a pale blue envelope from her morning uniform cotton apron pocket and hands it to Lettice, before withdrawing Lettice’s silver letter opener and handing it to her as well.

 

“I say! How thrilling!” Gerald enthuses. “A present, and a big one! Perhaps from your fiancée, since he is not adverse to giving you rather lovely and expensive gifts?” he adds hopefully as he refers to the rather large Picasso painting of ‘The Lovers’ that Sir John recently gave Lettice as an engagement gift to his bride-to-be.

 

“Well, I hardly think this is a Picasso.” Lettice remarks, nodding in the direction of the crate, as she slips the blade of the letter opener under the lip of the envelope and slides it along the top of the letter deftly, the paper making a sharp tearing sound as she does.

 

“No, but it could be something equally wonderful, like a piece of Eighteenth Century porcelain.” Gerald adds. “Let’s be a little imaginative, Lettice darling!”

 

Lettice withdraws the letter from the sliced open envelope.

 

“Will that be all, Miss?” Edith asks.

 

“Oh yes,” Lettice says distractedly, waving her hand dismissively at Edith as she focuses on the contents of the letter. “Just the tea, if you could manage it, thank you, Edith.”

 

“Yes Miss.” Edith bobs a curtsey and turns to go.

 

“I don’t suppose you happen to have one of your rather delicious and decadent sponge cakes on then offing, do you Edith?” Gerald asks hopefully.

 

“I might, sir.” Edith answers with a wry smile.

 

“Oh hoorah!” Gerald says, clapping his hands with delight. “How ripping!”

 

As Edith retreats to the kitchen through the green baize door, Lettice read the letter.

 

“Who is this intriguing package from, Lettice darling?” Gerald asks. “I’m simply dying to know!”

 

“It’s from my new client.” Lettice replies as she scans the letter’s contents.

 

“Well I must say!” Gerald responds with outrage. “I never get any gifts from Dolly Hatchett for making her frocks!”

 

“No, not Mrs. Hatchett,” Lettice replies, her brow crumpling as she speaks. “Another client I have agreed to take the commission of.”

 

“Another client. Who?”

 

Lettice uses the edge of the letter opener to prise open the lid of the wooden crate. Placing it aside, a froth of white tissue paper suddenly cascades forth freed from the confines of its prison. Lettice’s gaze immediately falls upon the neck of a bottle.

 

“A bottle of good quality German Mozelle!” Gerald exclaims as Lettice withdraws the bottle and a single dainty wine glass from amidst the paper.

 

“How very thoughtful of her.” Lettice muses with a smile as she puts the bottle and glass onto the surface of the coffee table.

 

Gerald delves into the paper which scrunches crisply beneath his touch as he withdraws a rather lovely vase of hand painted blue and white china.

 

“Is this a gift from your Mrs. Clifford of Arkwright Bury?” Gerald asks.

 

“No, this is from Sylvia Fordyce.” Lettice answers.

 

Gerald falls silent for a moment and looks down at the vase in his hands. “Sylvia Fordyce? As in Sylvia Fordyce the concert pianist?”

 

“The very one, Gerald darling.” Lettice replies. “I’ve taken on a commission to paint a feature wall for her.”

 

“Well, you are full of surprises today, Lettice darling!” Gerald says, placing the vase on the table next to the sleek green bottle of Mozelle. “Rather like a magician pulling a rabbit from his hat. How on earth did that come about?”

 

“Well Sylvia is a friend of John’s, well more of Clemance’s than John’s really, but she wanted to meet me, and she asked me to paint a feature wall for her at her country home. She took me there a few weeks ago.”

 

“My goodness!” Gerald repeats. “You are the lucky one, Lettice! She’s famous for being quite a private person.”

 

“I know, darling.” Lettice purrs in reply with a confident smile. “I’m very honoured. She has a lovely house, and she had Syrie Maugham************* decorate it for her, but Sylvia isn’t happy with the amount of white she used in her colour scheme, and she wants me to inject a bit of colour with a hand painted feature wall.”

 

“Well that’s even more of a compliment to you, Lettice darling, if Sylvia Fordyce wants you to undo something Syrie Maugham has done.”

 

“I agree, Gerald darling.” Lettice continues to purr as she withdraws the lid of one of Sylvia’s ginger jars from the mantlepiece of ‘The Nest’s’ drawing room from amidst the froth of white paper. Placing it carefully on the top of the paper she goes on, “I decided to take some inspiration from her blue and white porcelain, and asked if she would lend me a few pieces whilst she was on tour.” She delves back into the box and withdraws the hand painted blue and white coffee pot and milk jug from the set she drank from at ‘The Nest’, its gilded edges gleaming under the light of the chandelier above. “And this is them.”

 

“And the wine?” Gerald queries.

 

“A gift to,” Lettice withdraws the letter again and scans it. “‘Help with my artistic and creative flow’.” she reads aloud.

 

“Well this is a delicious turn of events for you, Lettice darling!” Gerald remarks. “A commission from Sylvia Fordyce! Fancy that!”

 

“Yes, and hopefully this commission, plus the promise of a favouable review in The Lady************** as assured by Sylvia, might soften the blows of me wanting to control the acquisition of my own trousseau.”

 

“And decorating for Dolly Hatchett.” Gerald adds.

 

“Well,” Lettice sighs, sinking back into her seat, swinging the letter about in her hand. “I might wait until after I get back from Paris and the ‘Exposition internationale des arts décoratifs et industriels modernes’*************** before I drop that tiny social briquette, Gerald darling.”

 

“Very wise!” Gerald replies, tapping his nose knowingly. “I can’t wait to get back to Hattie’s and tell Charles Dunnage your news!”

 

“And why is that, Gerald darling? Why would one of Harriet Milford’s theatrical lodgers possibly be interested in my titbit of news?”

 

“Because, Lettice darling, he is a great fan of Sylvia Fordyce. He’ll be fit to be tied and will burst his corset stays when he hears that I’ve touched items that belong to Sylvia Fordyce.”

 

“Oh Gerald darling!” Lettice titters. “The very idea of Charles Dunnage wearing a corset!”

 

“But he does, Lettice darling! He’s so pompous about being a ‘thespian of the Shakespearean age’ and so vain about his looks that he really does wear one to smother his paunch, as he also has a distinct weak spot for anything sweet from Hattie’s kitchen, as you’ve seen.”

 

Lettice and Gerald both burst out laughing, enjoying the moment of their close friendship where they share anything with one another.

 

*Queen Anne’s Gate is a street in Westminster, London. Many of the buildings are Grade I listed, known for their Queen Anne architecture. Simon Bradley and Nikolaus Pevsner described the Gate’s early Eighteenth Century houses as “the best of their kind in London.” The street’s proximity to the Palace of Westminster made it a popular residential area for politicians.

 

**The London constituency of Tower Hamlets includes such areas and historic towns as (roughly from west to east) Spitalfields, Whitechapel, Bethnal Green, Wapping, Shadwell, Mile End, Stepney, Limehouse, Old Ford, Bow, Bromley, Poplar, and the Isle of Dogs (with Millwall, the West India Docks, and Cubitt Town), making it a majority working class constituency in 1925 when this story is set. Tower Hamlets included some of the worst slums and societal issues of inequality and poverty in England at that time.

 

***The old fashioned British term “looking bloody” was a way of indicating how dour or serious a person or occasion looks.

 

****‘The Scream’ is a composition created by Norwegian artist Edvard Munch in 1893. The Norwegian name of the piece is ‘Skrik’ (Scream), and the German title under which it was first exhibited is ‘Der Schrei der Natur‘ (The Scream of Nature). The agonized face in the painting has become one of the most iconic images in art, seen as symbolizing the anxiety of the human condition. Munch's work, including The Scream, had a formative influence on the Expressionist movement.

 

*****You may be surprised to learn that the term “drama queen”, so commonly used today to refer to someone who reacts to situations in an exaggerated or overly emotional way, dates back to 1923 where it was first referenced in the Washington Post.

 

******Gaiety Girls were the chorus girls in Edwardian musical comedies, beginning in the 1890s at the Gaiety Theatre, London, in the shows produced by George Edwardes.

 

*******‘Chu Chin Chow’ is a musical comedy written, produced and directed by Oscar Asche, with music by Frederic Norton, based on the story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. It was the most popular show in London’s West End during the Great War. It premiered at His Majesty’s Theatre in London on the 3rd of August 1916 and ran for 2,238 performances, a record number that stood for nearly forty years!

 

********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.

 

*********Kinema is an early spelling of the word cinema, and was commonly used throughout the 1920s and into the early 1930s when it changed to cinema.

 

**********The slang term “rag trade”, referring to the garment, clothing, or fashion industry, first appeared in common usage between 1835 and 1845, but really began in the Eighteenth Century to describe the sale of rags or second-hand clothes.

 

***********A transatlantic cruise involves sailing across the Atlantic Ocean, typically between Europe and North America, offering a unique travel experience with several days at sea to relax and enjoy the ship's amenities. In the 1920s there were many big shipping lines like Britain’s Cunard and the White Star Line, as well as smaller companies such as the French Line, who traversed the Atlantic with luxury ocean liners, appealing to the wealthy and up-and-coming middle-classes for comfortable business and travel options, and to the lower classes who were still immigrating, albeit in much smaller numbers as a result of immigrant caps, from Europe and Britain to America.

 

************A trousseau is a word used to describe the clothes, linen, and other belongings collected by a bride for her marriage. For an upper-class bride, it would refer only to her clothing, including her wedding frock.

 

*************Syrie Maugham was a leading British interior decorator of the 1920s and 1930s and best known for popularizing rooms decorated entirely in shades of white. She was the wife of English playwright and novelist William Somerset Maugham.

 

**************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.

 

***************The International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts was a specialized exhibition held in Paris, from April the 29th (the day after it was inaugurated in a private ceremony by the President of France) to October the 25th, 1925. It was designed by the French government to highlight the new modern style of architecture, interior decoration, furniture, glass, jewelry and other decorative arts in Europe and throughout the world. Many ideas of the international avant-garde in the fields of architecture and applied arts were presented for the first time at the exposition. The event took place between the esplanade of Les Invalides and the entrances of the Grand Palais and Petit Palais, and on both banks of the Seine. There were fifteen thousand exhibitors from twenty different countries, and it was visited by sixteen million people during its seven-month run. The modern style presented at the exposition later became known as “Art Deco”, after the exposition's name.

 

This 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The green bottle of Mozelle on the coffee table is an artisan miniature made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire with careful attention paid to the lable, which is a genuine Mozelle wine lable from Germany. The wine glass is spun from real glass too and is also an artisan miniature. It is part of a set of six which I acquired from a high street stockist of dolls and dolls house miniatures when I was a young teenager. The letter opener is made of silver and is an artisan miniature made by the Little Green Workshop who specialise in high-end artisan miniature pieces. The blue and white vase on the coffee table and the blue and white gilt ginger jar in the crate come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom. The tiny blue and white coffee pot and creamer are part of a complete set, all of which are hand painted and come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House shop as well. The crate, which I purchased from an E-Bay seller in the United Kingdom.

 

The letter that you see on Lettice’s coffee table is a 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Famed for his books, Ken Blythe also made other miniature artisan pieces from paper, including this letter, which is contained inside an envelope which even has a postmark. The letter itself, whilst deliberately not in focus in this photo is written in a tiny legible hand! To make a piece as small and authentic as this makes it a true artisan piece. Most of the Ken Blythe books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words of the titles, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.

 

The green glass comport on the coffee table is an artisan miniature made from hand spun glass and acquired from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

 

The very realistic red rose floral arrangement to the right of the photo has been made by hand by the Doll House Emporium in America who specialise in high end miniatures. The faceted glass vase on the mantlepiece is an artisan miniature made from real glass. It comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The tulips in the vase are 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 black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature from Melody Jane’s Dolls House Suppliers in England. The telephone is 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.

 

Lettice’s black leather diary with the silver clasp was also made by the Little Green Workshop in the United Kingdom. The pencils on top of it are 1:12 miniature as well, acquired from Melody Jane Dolls’ House Suppliers, and each is only one millimetre wide and two centimetres long.

 

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 Hepplewhite chair 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.

 

On the left hand side of the mantle is 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 fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.

 

The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.

British Airways Boeing 757-236 G BIKO lifting off at Edinburgh (EGPH), with their ''Worlds best Offer" on tickets at the time 1988.

At LEGO World in Copenhagen, The LEGO Group unveiled a new series of official lighting kits and calling it “Night Mode”. Five kits in all were shown off tailor-made for 71043 Hogwarts Castle, 10260 Downtown Diner, 21318 Tree House, 10265 Ford Mustang and 41374 Andrea’s Pool Party. These were previewed to gauge reaction and possible […]

  

www.fbtb.net/lego/2020/02/13/lego-might-offer-official-li...

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 is staying at her old family home for the festive season as she usually does between Christmas and Twelfth Night*. However, this year she had an extra reason for being with her family this Christmas.

 

For nearly a year Lettice had been patiently awaiting the return of her then 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. Having been made aware by Lady Zinnia in October that during the course of the year, whilst Lettice had been biding her time, waiting for Selwyn’s eventual return, he had 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 did not make their engagement public until the new year: after the dust about Selwyn’s break of his and Lettice’s engagement settled. Sir John motored across from Fontengil Park in the days following New Year and he and Lettice announced their engagement in the palatial Glynes drawing room before the Viscount and Lady Sadie the Countess, Leslie, Arabella and the Viscount’s sister Eglantyne (known by all the Chetwynd children affectionally as Aunt Egg). The announcement received somewhat awkwardly by the Viscount initially, until Lettice assured him that her choice to marry Sir John has nothing to do with undue influence, mistaken motivations, but perhaps the person most put out by the news is Aunt Egg who is not a great believer in the institution of marriage, and feels Lettice was perfectly fine as a modern unmarried woman. Lady Sadie, who Lettice thought would be thrilled by the announcement of her engagement, received the news with a somewhat muted response and she discreetly slipped away after drinking a toast to the newly engaged couple with a glass of fine champagne from the Glynes wine cellar.

 

We now find ourselves in the Glynes morning room where after noticing her prolonged absence, the Viscount has discovered his wife sitting quietly alone.

 

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.

 

“I say! What are you doing in here, old girl?” the Viscount asks as she sees his wife sitting at her bonheur de jour** in the corner of the morning room. “The rest of the family is still in the drawing room, including Lally and Charles, who have returned from their visit to Bowood.***”

 

“I’m well aware of that, Cosmo. I heard them come back.” Lady Sadie says peevishly. “And less of the old, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Sorry Sadie.” the Viscount apologises. “It’s having all the young ones around and their new vernacular. It’s ‘old boy this’ and ‘old girl that’. It’s catching.”

 

“That’s alright, Cosmo, so long as it doesn’t catch on, here.” Lady Sadie replies with a cocked eyebrow.

 

“We were wondering where you’d gotten to.” the Viscount says. “I’ve opened another bottle of champagne.”

 

“Have you, dear?” Lady Sadie remarks absently.

 

“Of course I have, Sadie!” the Viscount chortles. “After all, it isn’t every day that our youngest daughter gets married.”

 

“I suppose not, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie replies rather laconically.

 

The Viscount watches his wife as she picks up a studio photograph taken in London by Bassano**** of their eldest daughter, Lally as a gangly young teenager, and Lettice as a girl of seven, both dressed in the pre-war uniform fashion of young girls: white lawn dresses with their hair tied in large satin bows. She sighs.

 

“Sir John is suggesting that we all motor over to Fontengil Park for luncheon, now that Lally and Charles are back.” the Viscount remarks awkwardly in an effort to break his wife’s unusual silence. “To celebrate the good news as it were. I thought it was rather a capital idea! Don’t you agree, Sadie?”

 

Lady Sadie doesn’t reply, instead staring deeply at the faces of her two daughters forever captured within Mr. Basanno’s lens, her look expectant, as if she were waiting for them to speak.

 

“You know, I must confess, I wasn’t too keen on him to begin with, nor the idea of he and Lettice marrying.” He looks guiltily at his wife. “I never really liked him, and always thought him a bit of an old lecher, sniffing around young women half his age, like our daughter. But Lettice assures me that she has made up her mind to marry him, and that there was no undue influence in the making of her decision.”

 

“Undue influence.” Lady Sadie muses in a deadpan voice.

 

“And now that I’ve really met him and chatted with him properly, I actually don’t mind Sir John, even if I do worry that he may be a tad old for Lettice. He’s quite a raconteur, very eloquent and worldly, and he obviously wants to make her happy. He might be just what she needs after all: a mature man who can help guide her in life, and indulge her too. He says he has no intention of stopping her career as an interior designer.”

 

Lady Sadie does not reply to her husband’s observations.

 

“Of course Eglantyne is quite against the engagement.” The Viscount chuckles. “But then, you know her opinions about marriage.”

 

Lady Sadie’s silence unnerves the Viscount as he tries desperately to fill the empty void between the pair of them.

 

“I thought I might get Harris to motor Leslie, Arabella, the grandchildren, you and I over there together.” the Viscount goes on when no opinion is forthcoming from his wife. “It might be fun for Harrold and Annabelle to come for a ride with us in the big old Daimler. Charles and Lally can go in their car with nanny and the baby.”

 

“Piers is hardly a baby anymore, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie opines as she puts down the photo of Lally and Lettice and picks up one of their eldest son, Leslie, as a boy of six in a Victorian sailor suit, with his soft blonde waves swept neatly behind his ears. “He’s two now, nearly three.” She then adds, “Won’t that be rather tiresome for Sir John’s cook, catering for us all?”

 

“We are connected to the exchange, Sadie. He can telephone ahead.”

 

“As you like.” she replies in a rather non-committal way. “Although I might cry off with one of my heads.”

 

“You don’t have one of your heads, Sadie.” the Viscount says darkly.

 

“How do you know I don’t, Cosmo. You don’t suffer them as I do.”

 

“I’ve been married to you long enough to know when you have a headache and when you don’t.” he replies. “And you certainly don’t have one now, even if you say you do.”

 

Putting down the photo of Leslie and picking up one of their second son, Lionel also in a sailor’s suit, and wearing a straw hat, Lady Sadie shudders. His look is sweet, but already at the tender age of three or four he was causing trouble, playing nasty tricks and hurting his nannies and worse, his own siblings. When Lettice was born a few years after the photograph was taken, Lady Sadie had to warn Lettice’s nurses that they were never to leave her unattended in Lionel’s presence, lest he smother her with a pillow, which he tried to do on several occasions when the nurses were slack in their observation of Lady Sadie’s rule or they were caught off guard.

 

“And of course Sir John can take Lettice over there in that topping blue Bugatti Torpedo***** of his.”

 

“Ghastly, vulgar and showy.” Lady Sadie opines. “Tearing up the country lanes as he speeds along them, so that no decent person of the county can walk them any more without fearing for their lives when he’s visiting the district.” She sniffs. “Or so I have it on good authority.”

 

She returns to her perusal of photos.

 

“I say, Sadie,” the Viscount remarks in surprise. “What’s the matter?”

 

“Whatever do you mean, Cosmo?” she asks, lifting her head from a baby photo of Leslie sitting on the corner of a button back****** sofa taken at the same time as the one she has of him leaning precariously against a rocking chair in a silver frame standing on the right side of her bonheur de jour.

 

“You know perfectly well.” the Viscount retorts. “Don’t be obtuse.”

 

“I’m not being obtuse, Cosmo!” Lady Sadie retorts.

 

The Viscount sighs, knowing in order to get an answer, he must play his wife’s game of teasing out the answer from her: a game he is well versed in playing after many years of marriage.

 

“You’re obviously not happy about the engagement, which I have to say surprises me. Why have you suddenly taken so much against Sir John? I thought you’d be delighted by the announcement.”

 

Lady Sadie ignores her husband’s question and picks up a large and ornate framed photograph of a wedding group taken in the early years of the Twentieth Century. It features a rather beaky looking bride in a pretty lace covered white wedding dress and a splendid black feather covered Edwardian picture hat. Her groom, dressed in his Sunday best suit with a boutonnière******* in his lapel and a derby on his head sits back in his seat, looking very proud. Around them stand various men and women in their Edwardian best, but the flat caps and mismatched jackets and trousers of the men and similarly mismatched outfits of the ladies suggest that this is not an upper-class wedding. In front of the bride a five year old Lettice stands proudly dressed as a flower girl in a white lace dress with ribbons in her hair, clutching a bouquet.

 

“Didn’t you take that photograph with your first Box Brownie********, Sadie?” the Viscount asks as he walks over and stands next to his wife and looks at the photograph.

 

“Yes, I did, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie acknowledges. “How good of you to remember.”

 

“Oh, who could forget that occasion?” the Viscount chortles sadly. “That was poor Elsie Bucknell’s wedding to that wastrel who turned her head with all his talk of being a tailor to all the great and good of Swindon, when in fact he was nothing but a con man from Manchester.”

 

“You were very good to settle the debts he left her with after he and his real wife absconded with all her money.” Sadie says, pointing at the rather pretty woman in white and a neat picture hat sitting to the groom’s right.

 

“Well, it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? As lord of manor, it was my duty to support her, poor jilted woman.”

 

“Yes, the right thing.” Lady Sadie agrees with a sigh. “You’ve always done the right thing, Cosmo.”

 

“Well, I also did encourage her to marry him when she asked my opinion of him.”

 

“You’ve not always been the best judge of character, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie remarks.

 

The Viscount laughs. “What does that say about me choosing you as my bride then, Sadie?”

 

“I did imply that your poor judgements of character only happen sometimes, not always.” She runs her fingers over the glass in front of Lettice’s smiling face. “Lettice was as pleased as punch to be the flower girl at that wedding. Do you remember?”

 

“I do believe she thought all the smiles and gushing of the adulating congregation were for her and not for Elise behind her.”

 

“I do believe you are right, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie chuckles. “Did you know that’s why they call them, ‘Flappers’?”

 

“Who dear?”

 

“The newspapers and magazines.” Lady Sadie muses. “I found out not all that long ago, from Geraldine Evans of all people, if you can believe it,” she remarks with another chuckle, mentioning the elder of two genteel spinster sisters who live in Holland House, a Seventeenth Century manor house, in Glynes village. “She told me that they call the young girls of the Bright Young Things********* ‘Flappers’ because it refers to the fact that when they were girls and their hair was still down, it was tied by flapping ribbons or tied in pigtails that flapped.” She points to the big bow in the young Lettice’s hair.

 

“No. No, I didn’t know.” the Viscount replies a little awkwardly. “Look, what’s all this got to do wi…”

 

“Thinking of the right thing, Cosmo, I really should take this photo out of the frame, what with all the sad connotations it has, but I can’t quite bear to do it.” Lady Sadie goes on, interrupting her husband. “I’m rather proud of this photograph.”

 

“There’s no need. Elise has long since left Glynes after all the scandal, so she won’t know. Anyway, it’s a very good shot, Sadie.” her husband agrees, putting his hand around her and giving her right shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

 

“I’ve never been what you’d call artistic, like Eglantyne,” Lady Sadie says, referring to her husband’s favourite younger sibling, who is an artist of some renown in London. “Or like Lettice, but I’m not bad at taking photographs.”

 

“I think you’re a dab hand at it, Sadie my dear.” He rubs his wife’s right forearm, and bestows a kiss on her greyish white waves atop her head. “Far better than me, or Leslie. But I ask again, what’s any of this to do with Sir John, and your sudden dislike of him?”

 

“You know, you think you know what, or who your children will become,” Lady Sadie says wistfully, replacing the photograph in the frame back on the surface of her bonheur de jour. “And yet, they always surprise you.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think either Leslie or Lally have been particularly surprising.” the Viscount retorts.

 

“No?”

 

“No. As the eldest son, Leslie has turned out to be the fine heir to the Glynes estate that we always wanted. He’s responsible, and goodness knows his insight and forward thinking has prevented us from finding ourselves in the straitened circumstances that the Brutons or poor Nigel Tyrwhitt and Isobel are in now. And now that he’s married, it will only be a matter of time before he and Arabella give us a grandson to carry on the Chetwynd line and one day become the next Viscount Wrexham.” He smiles indulgently at the thought. “And Lally’s marriage to Charles Lanchenbury is all we could hope for, for her. I mean, Charles may not inherit a hereditary title from old Lanchenbury, which is a bit of a pity. But still, he’s a successful businessman and she’ll never wont for anything. She seems to rather enjoy playing lady or the manor in High Wycombe with her brood.”

 

“Oh yes.”

 

“Lionel was a surprising one.” The Viscount picks up the photograph of his second son in his Victorian sailor’s outfit and wide brimmed straw hat that his wife had held before. “Who would have imagined that behind such an angelic face lurked the depraved character of the devil incarnate?” He feels his wife shudder again at the thought of their wayward son beneath his hand. “There, there, Sadie my dear.” he coos. “The further away from us he is, the less we have to think about him,” He heaves a great sigh of regret. “Or deal with his messy affairs.”

 

“You know I received a letter from him yesterday?” Lady Sadie asks.

 

“No.”

 

“Yes,” Lady Sadie snorts derisively. “From Durban of places, would you believe?”

 

“The same as young Spencely.”

 

“Yes! Isn’t that a coincidence? It was quite a good letter actually, and the first I’ve had since Leslie’s wedding where he doesn’t implore me to ask you to bring him back here. He writes that he went to Durban to show off two of his new Thoroughbreds to a perspective buyer: some playboy horse racing son of a nouveau riche businessman. It sounds like he’s had a bit of luck, as he seems quite flush at the moment, going to nightclubs and the like down there.”

 

“Squandering his earnings on gambling, women and god knows what else, down there, I’ll warrant.” the Viscount opines gruffly.

 

“No doubt.” Lady Sadie sighs.

 

“Poor Lettice.” the Viscount adds in a softer tone, as his mind shifts to his youngest daughter’s heartbreak at the hands of Selwyn Spencely.

 

“Aahh, and then there was Lettice.” Lady Sadie remarks, taking up a round gold frame featuring a studio photograph of a beaming Lettice at age ten in a smart winter coat and large brimmed hat, full of confidence sitting before the camera. “The most surprising child of all, not least of all because she was a surprise late pregnancy for me.”

 

“Oh, Lettice is no surprise to me, Sadie.” the Viscount retorts. “I mean, Eglantyne picked her as having an artistic temperament right from the beginning, and she was right. I knew she had more brains than our Lally has, which is why I gave her all those extra lessons.”

 

“You indulged her, Cosmo!” Lady Sadie remarks. “You’ve always spoiled her. So does Eglantyne. She’s your pet, and hers too.”

 

“Every bit as much as Leslie is yours, Sadie.” He points to the silver framed portrait of Leslie.

 

“You were the one who encouraged her to start up this ridiculous interior decoration nonsense.”

 

“Well, in reality it was really Eglantyne who drew my attention to her flair for design, but I’m glad that she did. Look at the successes she has had! She runs her own business, with very few hiccups or missteps,” He momentarily remembers the kerfuffle that there was with Lettice signing a contract drawn up by Lady Gladys Caxton’s lawyers without consulting the Chetwynd family lawyers. “And she’s very good at keeping accounts.”

 

“Excellent, she’ll make the perfect bookkeeper.” Lady Sadie remarks sarcastically.

 

“It will put her in good stead for running Sir John’s households, Sadie.” the Viscount tempers. “Goodness knows he has enough of them. And she has received accolades from Henry Tipping**********, printed in Country Life********** for all to see, and that is fine feather for her cap, you must confess.”

 

“I don’t deny that.” Lady Sadie agrees somewhat reluctantly.

 

“No, I always knew Lettice would be the greatest success of all our children.” the Viscount says proudly.

 

“Did you, Cosmo?”

 

“Of course I did, Sadie. I understand her.”

 

“You!” Lady Sadie scoffs. “You may decry that you love your youngest and favourite daughter so well, Cosmo, and without a doubt, you do. However, whatever you say, you don’t understand Lettice.”

 

“And you do, Sadie?” the Viscount retorts hotly. “When she comes home to lick her wounds after Zinnia sent Selwyn away, craving comfort, you drove her from the house, telling her she needed to throw herself into the social rounds, rather than stop and miss him. Is that understanding?” He folds his arms akimbo and looks away from his wife in disgust. “No wonder she kept her engagement to Sir John a secret for the last month or so, since you suddenly seem to despise her husband-to-be: a man whom I should like to point out, you thought was perfectly suitable for her not so very long ago. Sir John may not have the title of duke, but he has a title nonetheless, and I have no doubt that his fortune is equal to that of the Duke of Walmsford.”

 

“You misunderstand me, and my motives, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie replies, hurt by his words, but also resigned to the fact that he believes them. “As always, I am portrayed like one of Mrs. Maingot’s derided pantomime villains in the Glynes Christmas play.”

 

“If the cap fits, Sadie.”

 

“See, you think I don’t understand my children, but I assure you that, aside from Lionel, I do.”

 

“Who could ever understand that child of the devil, Sadie?”

 

“Indeed, well aside from our errant black sheep, I understand the others. You love them, Cosmo, probably far more than me, but I on the other hand, understand them.”

 

“How so, Sadie?”

 

“You misalign my actions because you don’t understand them, either. When Lettice came here after Zinnia packed Selwyn off to Durban, what did you do? You gave her a place to shelter, yes, but you mollycoddled her: feeding her shortbreads and allowing her to retreat from the world.”

 

“Well, that’s what she needed, Sadie.”

 

“No. That’s where you are wrong, Cosmo. She didn’t need mollycoddling. It just made things worse. It amplified her situation and how she felt as you allowed her to spend her empty days brooding. Lettice is apt to brood, when given the opportunity. What she really needed was to be told that the sun will still rise and set, in spite of her own innermost turmoil, and what she needed was to be sent back out into the world, so that she could be distracted, and build up her resilience. That’s what she needed, Cosmo, and I helped her achieve that. And that, my dear, is what I mean by truly understanding Lettice. Believe it or not, I understand her as a young woman, and I understand what she needs.”

 

“Well, if you wanted to build resilience in her, that’s what you’ve achieved, and admirably at that. Selwyn jilts our daughter and what does she do? Rather than moping, which is what you seem to think I would have encouraged her to do, she went out and got herself engaged to one of the most eligible bachelors in the county, in England no less. Yet you don’t seem at all happy about the engagement, even though you put Sir John into the mix at the Hunt Ball that you used as a marriage market for Lettice.”

 

“Once again, Cosmo, you see your daughter, but you don’t understand her.”

 

“Then pray enlighten me, Sadie because I certainly don’t understand you right at this moment.”

 

“Lettice’s heart is breaking, and ever since she was a child, when her heart is broken, she lashes out, like when Mopsy died. Remember her Cavalier King Charles Spaniel?”

 

“How could I forget that beautiful dog. But surely you aren’t comparing her tears and tantrums as a seven year old child, to now, Sadie? There are no tears this time, no tantrums.”

 

“But that’s where you are wrong, Cosmo. This is her tantrum. It just isn’t one that exhibits itself in the same way. Lettice is trying to prove to Selwyn,” She pauses for a moment and thinks. “No, more prove to Zinna, that she isn’t defeated by whatever nasty games she is playing to break the romance between Lettice and Selwyn. She’s trying to exact revenge on them both.” Lady Sadie sighs. “But she’s going about it all wrong.”

 

“What do you mean, Sadie?” The Viscount sighs as he sinks down onto the edge of one of the morning room chairs nearest him and looks across at his wife, who sits, slumped in her own seat at her desk, looking defeated.

 

“I blame myself really for this turn of events.” Lady Sadie gulps awkwardly. “I’m almost too ashamed to admit it, but I was misaligned in some of my thinking, and wrong in my judgement, and now the results have well and truly come home to roost.”

 

“What are you talking about, Sadie?”

 

“Sir John, Cosmo.” She says simply. “When I held that Hunt Ball, I practically threw Lettice at Sir John.”

 

“Well, to assuage your fears, Sadie, that is what I meant by confirming that there were no undue influences in Lettice’s decision.” the Viscount pronounces. “I asked her whether she felt obliged to marry Sir John because you had encouraged the match, and that she feared being stuck on the shelf.” He looks meaningfully at his wife. “But she says that neither of these had any influence on her decision. She says that Sir John isn’t perfect, but that he’s a good man, and that he isn’t lying to her. As I said - as you said – Sir John may not be young, but he’s eligible and wealthy to boot. Lettice will be chatelaine of a string of fine properties, and she’ll never have to worry about going without.”

 

“But Lettice is wrong about him nor lying to her.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

Lady Sadie snatches the lace handkerchief poking out of her left sleeve opening at her wrist and dabs her nose, sniffing as she does. “Several of my friends, Lally, and even Lettice tried to warn me about him. They said that he’s a lecherous man, with a penchant for younger women, actresses in particular.”

 

“Well,” the Viscount chuckles. “Plenty of men of good standing have been known to have the odd discreet elicit affair with a Gaiety Girl*********** or two.” He then blusters. “Not myself of course!”

 

“Of course not, Cosmo.” She reaches out one of her diamond spangled hands to her husband and takes his own proffered hand. “Never you. You were always too much of a gentleman to have a liaison with another woman. As I said, you always do the right thing, Cosmo. Do you know, I do believe that is why Zinnia stopped coming to our house parties. You weren’t for conquest, no matter how much she threw herself at you. And she did, quite shamelessly.”

 

“Did she?” the Viscount asks innocently.

 

“You know she did!” Lady Sadie slaps her husband’s wrist playfully. “Now who’s being obtuse?”

 

“Well, maybe I did sense her overtures towards me, but she never stood a chance, Sadie!” the Viscount replies with an earnest look. “You were only ever going to be the one for me.”

 

“That’s sweet of you Cosmo, and I appreciate it. But, for all his pedigree and wealth, and for all his apparent care for Lettice, your judge of character of Sir John is fatally flawed my dear.”

 

“Flawed?”

 

“Sir John Nettleford-Hughes is not for our youngest daughter.” Lady Sadie goes on. “Nor any good and upstanding young lady of society. I know now that he is a philanderer: discreet yes, but not discreet enough, and no matter how many houses he has, or wealth, he will never make Lettice happy – quite the opposite in fact, I fear, even if she can’t see that in her present state of besottedness. She will become the neglected, deserted wife and the ridicule of society. And that is why I am against Sir John, and this marriage, which will be as disastrous for her as dear Elsie Bucknell’s was for her.” Sadie points to the wedding party photograph again.

 

“What?”

 

“Yes.” Lady Sadie cocks an eyebrow as she gives her husband a withering look. “His latest conquest is an up-and-coming West End actress named Paula Young. Such a nasty, common name.” she opines. “Then again, it suits a nasty and common little upstart tart of an actress!”

 

“Sadie!”

 

“Sorry Cosmo, but that’s what she is, if she allows herself to be seen in such an…” Lady Sadie shudders. “An intimate situation with a man like Sir John.”

 

“Surely there is some kind of misunderstanding: just gossip, Sadie.”

 

“Gossip yes, but verified nonetheless.” Lady Sadie answers sadly. “Though I wish to god that I could say it wasn’t. My cousin Gwendolyn was having dinner at the Café Royal************ and saw them together herself less than a week ago.”

 

“What was Gwendolyn doing at the Café Royal?”

 

“She is a duchess, Cosmo dear, or have you forgotten?”

 

“Who could ever forget that Gwendolyn is the Duchess of Whiby, Sadie? She certainly won’t let anyone forget it.”

 

“Well, she was escorting her grand-nice Barbara who debuted last year as part of the London Season, because poor Monica had influenza and was confined to bed, and she noticed Sir John and that that cheap actress at a shaded corner table.”

 

“A simple dinner between two friends., Sadie.” the Viscount tries to explain the situation away.

 

“Gwendolyn says that he was practically devouring her as he lavished her bare forearms with kisses.” Lady Sadie replies with another shudder and a look of disgust. “In public! With an actress! How vulgar, and certainly not discreet, even if at a corner table in the shadows!”

 

“Gwendolyn goes looking for gossip wherever she goes, Sadie, even in places where it isn’t.” the Viscount cautions his wife.

 

“I know, but be that as it may, Cosmo, I also have it from your own sister, Eglantyne, that many years ago, before she was married, he also had an elicit affair with that awful romance novelist Gladys Caxton, whom Lettice and you had all the trouble with not long ago.”

 

“Well you know Eglantyne doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage.” the Viscount begins.

 

“This was before any of us even knew of the understanding reached between Lettice and Sir John, Cosmo.”

 

“Well,” he chuckles in an effort to shake he sudden concerns off. “If that affair was many years ago, who cares, Sadie? It has no significance now.”

 

Lady Sadie slides open a drawer of her bonheur de jour and takes out a sheet of paper on which is written a list of names.

 

“After Gwendolyn’s revelations, I did a bit of digging myself, and these are the actresses ingénues and parvenues I was able to connect him to.”

 

“The cad!” the Viscount gasps as his widened eyes run down the list. “There must be at lest two dozen women on this list.”

 

“There are twenty-nine to be exact, Cosmo, and they are only the ones I could find and link him to.”

 

“You know I always thought that he was an old letch.” the Viscount restates his long held belief again. “I can’t deny that I’d heard the rumours too, but being unmarried I didn’t pay them much mind. And when he showed up here today, all charm, and was so solicitous to Lettice, making my little girl so happy, well...”

 

“You were swayed on your judgment of this character.” Lady Sadie says with an arched eyebrow and a knowing look.

 

“I was.” the Viscount agrees. “I was persuaded: taken in by him as a matter-of-fact! What a fool I am!”

 

“Charming people can always beguile, dear Cosmo.”

 

“I shall go into the drawing room this very minute and have it out with him!” He gets to his feet, trembling with anger and frustration as his elegant hands form into fists. “I’ll fling Sir John out on his philandering ear!”

 

Lady Sadie reaches out again to still her husband, wrapping her hand comfortingly around his wrist. “No you won’t, Cosmo.” she says calmly and matter-of-factly, gazing up at him sadly. “It would be the wrong thing to do, and you know it. And, as we have agreed, you always do the right and decent thing. It would be too embarrassing to conduct such a scene before a houseful of guests, even if they are family: for Sir John, Leslie, Arabella, Lally, Eglantyne, me, you,” She lowers her voice and adds sadly. “For Lettice.”

 

“You’re right, Sadie.” the Viscount says, still trembling with anger. “Shall I speak to Lettice?” he suggests. “Pull her aside and have a discreet word with her?”

 

“Why, Cosmo?”

 

“I could forbid her to marry him. I could threaten to cut her allowance off.”

 

Lady Sadie laughs in a sad and tired fashion. “Cosmo, what purpose would that serve? She’s already told you that she intends to go through with this marriage, and that she won’t be swayed.”

 

“Well, Lettice might come to her senses if I tell her… tell her the reasons why I’m forbidding her to marry that… that bounder!”

 

“She knows already what kind of man Sir John is, Cosmo. She was one of the people who told me that he’s a philanderer.”

 

“What?”

 

“Lettice told me herself that he has a penchant for young ladies.”

 

“Well, if she hears it from me, her own father?”

 

“You’ll only drive her deeper into his arms, Cosmo. She’s angry. She’s hurting. She’s rebelling, God help us all!” Lady Sadie says knowingly. “She’s seeking revenge. And your threat to cut off Lettice’s allowance would be meaningless if she marries Sir John. As you have duly noted already, he’s richer than Croesus*************. Besides, thanks to you and Eglantyne she also has a successful business venture to support her now.”

 

“What the devil is she playing at then?” the Viscount asks. “Is it not bad enough that we have an errant son in Lionel, that we must now have a daughter who marries a known philanderer with a penchant for young actresses, and will doubtless end up being dragged through the divorce courts as a result, casting shame on the family?”

 

“I don’t know, Cosmo, other than she is lashing out at Lady Zinnia, exacting her revenge as she sees it.”

 

The Viscount looks down at his wife sadly and ponders. “You’re being remarkably calm about all this, Sadie.”

 

“Yes,” she replies with a derisive snigger as she starts to take up some of the lose photos and file them together. “I know. Usually, it’s me having histrionics, not you. However, there is something I keep reminding myself of that brings me solace as I mull this situation over in my mind.”

 

“What on earth can bring you solace about this disastrous situation Lettice has willingly foisted upon herself?”

 

Lady Sadie looks knowingly at her husband. “One swallow does not a summer make**************, Cosmo. And an engagement, especially a hasty one, does not necessarily lead to marriage.”

 

“What are you saying, Sadie?”

 

“I’m simply saying that if a man breaks off his engagement with a lady, he’s a cad and a bounder. However, a lady is perfectly entitled to break off her engagement with a gentleman. In fact,” She smiles smugly. “It is her prerogative to do so.”

 

“Are you suggesting that we should encourage Lettice to break her engagement with Sir John?” the Viscount asks. He sighs and rubs his cleanly shaven chin. “I say! What a clever ploy, Sadie.” he muses. “Quite brilliant! Quite Machiavellian, no less!”

 

“No, I’m not saying that at all, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie quips. “You misunderstand me again.” She releases an exasperated sigh. “This is also what I mean by you not understanding Lettice. There is no talking to her right now, she’s so focussed on her own hurt and anger, and is determined to exact her own misaligned form of revenge on Selwyn and Zinnia. At the moment you could say that Sir John is made of glass and will shatter into a thousand slivers the moment she marries him and stab her to death, and she’ll still marry him to spite them, because she simply cannot see straight. She’s so angry that she won’t listen to reason.” She settles back in her seat and steeples her fingers before her as she stares off into a future only she can see. “Lettice is like a blizzard: blustery, but eventually her anger will peter out.”

 

“So you are suggesting what?”

 

“So, what I’m suggesting is that in this case, we must be patient with Lettice. We must settle ourselves in for the long game, and just watch what happens when her storm peters out.”

 

“So, in your opinion, we do nothing, then?” the Viscount blasts.

 

“For the time being, no, Cosmo.”

 

“But if we do nothing, she’ll marry the cad, and then where will we be?”

 

“I’m not convinced, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie assures her husband. “I think that if we cool our heels and let things play out, Lettice will come to her senses in the fullness of time.”

 

“You seem very sure of that, Sadie.” the Viscount says with a dubious look at his wife.

 

“I am, Cosmo.”

 

“And if you’re wrong? What then?”

 

“I’m not.” she assures him. “But if I were to be, then we shall simply have to steer her back to her senses when she is in a frame of mind that best allows us to encourage her to break off this disastrous marriage with Sir John.”

 

The Viscount shudders. “How can I have a son-in-law who’s as old as I am, or older.”

 

“Not quite, Cosmo, dear.” Lady Sadie assures him. “He’s a year and a half younger than you. I know. I did my in depth research about him before putting him forward as a potential suitor in 1922.”

 

“Evidently not in depth enough, Sadie,” He holds up the sheet of paper before he wife before screwing it up in anger and throwing it vehemently into her waste paper basket. “If Lettice is now engaged to a wealthy womaniser who carries on with actresses in public.”

 

“Don’t worry.” Lady Sadie continues to soothe in a soft voice, “We won’t have Sir John as our son-in-law. You’ll see.”

 

“Now that I know what I know,” the Viscount sighs. “I just hope you’re right, Sadie.”

 

“I usually am, Cosmo,” Lady Sadie resumes shuffling the photographs. “In the end.”

 

*Twelfth Night (also known as Epiphany Eve depending upon the tradition) is a Christian festival on the last night of the Twelve Days of Christmas, marking the coming of the Epiphany. Different traditions mark the date of Twelfth Night as either the fifth of January or the sixth of January, depending on whether the counting begins on Christmas Day or the twenty-sixth of December. January the sixth is celebrated as the feast of Epiphany, which begins the Epiphanytide season.

 

**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.

 

***Bowood is a Grade I listed Georgian country house in Wiltshire, that has been owned for more than two hundred and fifty years by the Fitzmaurice family. The house, with interiors by Robert Adam, stands on extensive grounds which include a garden designed by Lancelot "Capability" Brown. It is adjacent to the village of Derry Hill, halfway between Calne and Chippenham. The greater part of the house was demolished in 1956.

 

****Alexander Bassano was an English photographer who was a leading royal and high society portrait photographer in Victorian London. He is known for his photo of the Earl Kitchener in the Lord Kitchener Wants You army recruitment poster during the First World War and his photographs of Queen Victoria. He opened his first studio in 1850 in Regent Street. The studio then moved to Piccadilly between 1859 and 1863, to Pall Mall and then to 25 Old Bond Street in 1877 where it remained until 1921 when it moved to Dover Street. There was also a Bassano branch studio at 132 King's Road, Brighton from 1893 to 1899.

 

*****Introduced in 1922, the Type 30 was the first production Bugatti to feature an Inline-8. Nicknamed the “Torpedo” because of its similar look to the wartime munition, at the time Bugatti opted to move to a small two-litre engine to make the car more saleable, lighter and cheap. The engine capacity also made the Type 30 eligible for Grand Prix racing, which was a new direction for the marque. Despite the modest engine capacity, the power output was still remarkable thanks to the triple-valve arrangement. Also benefiting the Type 30 was good road handling, braking and steering which was common throughout the marque. The Type 30 was also the first Bugatti to have front brakes.

 

******Button back upholstered furniture contains buttons embedded in the back of the sofa or chair, which are pulled tightly against the leather creating a shallow dimple effect. This is sometimes known as button tufting.

 

*******A boutonnière is a flower that someone wears in the buttonhole of, or fastened to, their jacket on a special occasion such as a wedding.

 

********The Brownie (or Box Brownie) was invented by Frank A. Brownell for the Eastman Kodak Company. Named after the Brownie characters popularised by the Canadian writer Palmer Cox, the camera was initially aimed at children. More than 150,000 Brownie cameras were shipped in the first year of production, and cost a mere five shillings in the United Kingdom. An improved model, called No. 2 Brownie, came in 1901, which produced larger photos, and was also a huge success. Initially marketed to children, with Kodak using them to popularise photography, it achieved broader appeal as people realised that, although very simple in design and operation, the Brownie could produce very good results under the right conditions. One of their most famous users at the time was the then Princess of Wales, later Queen Alexandra, who was an avid amateur photographer and helped to make the Box Brownie even more popular with the British public from all walks of life. As they were ubiquitous, many iconic shots were taken on Brownies. Jesuit priest Father Frank Browne sailed aboard the RMS Titanic between Southampton and Queenstown, taking many photographs of the ship’s interiors, passengers and crew with his Box Brownie. On the 15th of April 1912, Bernice Palmer used a Kodak Brownie 2A, Model A to photograph the iceberg that sank RMS Titanic as well as survivors hauled aboard RMS Carpathia, the ship on which Palmer was travelling. They were also taken to war by soldiers but by World War I the more compact Vest Pocket Kodak Camera as well as Kodak's Autographic Camera were the most frequently used. Another group of people that became posthumously known for their huge photo archive is the Nicholas II of Russia family, especially its four daughters who all used Box Brownie cameras.

 

*********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.

 

**********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

 

************Gaiety Girls were the chorus girls in Edwardian musical comedies, beginning in the 1890s at the Gaiety Theatre, London, in the shows produced by George Edwardes

 

*************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.

 

**************The idiom “richer than Croesus” means very wealthy. This term alludes to Croesus, the legendary King of Lydia and supposedly the richest man on earth. The simile was first recorded in English in 1577.

 

**************The expression “One swallow does not a summer make, nor one fine day; similarly one day or brief time of happiness does not make a person entirely happy” is attributed to Aristotle (384 – 322 BC).

 

Cluttered with photographs and furnishings, Lady Sadie’s bonheur de jour is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The Chetwynd’s framed family photos seen on the desk 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 remaining unframed photographs and photograph album on Lady Sadie’s desk are a 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Ken Blythe is known for his miniature books. Most of the books crated by him that I own 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. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. The photo album, although closed, contains pages of photos in old fashioned Victorian style floral frames on every page, just like a real Victorian photo album. Not only did Ken Blythe create books, he also created other 1:12 miniatures with paper and that includes the photographs. 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 packets of seeds, which once again are copies of real packets of Webbs seeds and 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. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just two of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!

 

The vase of primroses in the middle of the desk is a delicate 1:12 artisan porcelain miniature made and painted by hand by Ann Dalton.

 

The desk and its matching chair is a Salon Reine design, hand painted and copied from an Eighteenth Century design, made by Bespaq. All the drawers open and it has a lidded rack at either end. Bespaq is a high-end miniature furniture maker with high attention to detail and quality.

 

The wallpaper is a copy of an Eighteenth Century blossom pattern.

Leica M6, Summicron 35 Asph, Trix @EI1600 in HC110

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

 

The advertisements for it featured supermodel Cindy Crawford speaking to an animated duck-like character anmed 'Ziggy', who lasted maybe 2 years.

 

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

 

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

Terlingua Ranch Lodge offers a uniquely remote Far West Texas vacation experience, providing rustic yet comfortable accommodations in one of the most scenic and least crowded corners of the Lone Star State. This off-the-beaten-path destination serves as an ideal gateway to both Big Bend National Park and Big Bend Ranch State Park, attracting travelers seeking an authentic West Texas adventure away from the crowds.

 

Bad Rabbit Cafe embodies the welcoming, unpretentious hospitality that defines Terlingua Ranch. The restaurant is open to the public, welcoming anyone who makes the journey to this remote corner of Texas. The staff treat everyone like family. The reasonable prices reflect the lodge’s commitment to accessible hospitality. As one reviewer noted, ‘Food was ok. It has a pretty good variety. Service was good. Ambiance was exceptional.’ – visitbigbend.com

 

7330c

In our house, a vegetable is called a "Have-to"...because the kids have to eat it, an offer they can't refuse.... My kids have gotten clever and started enjoying vegetables just so they can call them "want to's".

 

FGR invades Dinner and a Movie

GTWL Copycat week (I copycatted the movie poster, of course)

 

June 10 162/366

 

www.lisanoblephotography.com

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today however we are northwest of Lettice’s flat, in the working-class London suburb of Harlesden where Edith, Lettice’s maid’s, parents live in a small, two storey brick terrace house which opens out directly onto the street. Edith’s father, George, works at the McVitie and Price biscuit factory in Harlesden, and her mother, Ada, takes in laundry at home, although with her husband’s promotion as a Line Manager, she no longer needs to do it quite so much to supplement their income. Whilst far removed from the grandeur of Lettice’s Mayfair flat, the Harlesden terrace has always been a cosy and welcoming home for Edith and her seafaring brother, Bert.

 

We find ourselves in Ada’s kitchen, the heart of the Watsford’s little home. Even before she walked through the glossy black painted front door today, Edith could smell the familiar scent of her mother’s delicious baking, and as she walked into the terrace’s kitchen at the rear of the house, she found Ada making one of her favourite seasonal treats: hot cross buns* for Easter.

 

Edith is sitting at her usual perch on a tall ladderback chair drawn up to the round table, worn and scarred by years of heavy use that dominates the cluttered, old fashioned kitchen as her mother withdraws a tray of four large and delicious looking hot cross buns from the baking oven on the left-hand side of the old kitchen range that dominates the far wall of the kitchen. The air of the kitchen is injected with the sweet, mouthwatering smell of cooked currants, cinnamon, nutmeg and a hint of orange. Holding the battered metal baking tray with a thick yellow cloth with red edging, Ada slips it onto the kitchen table with a clatter, making the four golden brown hot cross buns rattle around.

 

“Oh Mum!” Edith gasps with admiration as she looks at the perfectly baked buns with glistening raisins poking out of the dough like jewels, decorated with their creamy white flour paste crosses. “They look perfect!”

 

“They smell perfect too!” pipes up George, who, being a Sunday, is sitting in his chair by the range, enjoying his Sunday Express crossword** as he absorbs its cosy heat.

 

“Thank you, both of you.” Ada remarks with a satisfied smile, placing her hands on her fleshy hips as she admires her own handiwork with twinkling caramel brown eyes. “They aren’t bad, even if I do say so myself.”

 

“Mum!” Edith exclaims again. “They are far better than that! I can never get my hot cross buns to be as light and fluffy as yours.”

 

“Do you give it a good knead like I’ve told you to, Edith love?” Ada asks her daughter.

 

“I do, Mum.” Edith nods.

 

“And you remember my saying?” Ada continues.

 

“Yes Mum: ‘make fresh today and bake fresh tomorrow’. I make sure I let the dough rest and rise the day before, just like you’ve told me to do.” Edith replies. “I never bake hot cross buns with dough I’ve made the same day, and they still don’t come out as light and fluffy as yours.”

 

“Well, I know what I think it is, Edith love.” Ada says, tapping her nose knowingly with a careworn finger.

 

“What is it, Mum?”

 

“You won’t like it, Edith love.”

 

‘Oh, please tell me, Mum!” Edith pleads. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

 

“Oh no!” Ada retorts, quickly reassuring her daughter. “I wouldn’t say that. I think it’s your equipment.”

 

“But Miss Lettice’s kitchen is lovely and up-to-date, Mum! She even has a beautiful gas stove to bake in.”

 

“And therein lies the problem.” Ada replies, standing up straight and reaching over, tapping the cool black leaded top of her range with affection, smiling beatifically as she does. “Nothing beats these good old coal ranges when it comes to baking.”

 

“Oh Mum!” Edith exclaims aghast. “You’re so… so…”

 

“Old fashioned, Edith love?” Ada asks.

 

“Traditional, Mum!” Edith assures her.

 

“I told you, you wouldn’t like my reason,” Ada replies. “But there it is nonetheless, Edith love. They may be a bit old hat***, dirty, and somewhat problematic and recalcitrant at times, but nothing beats a good old coke**** range for baking.”

 

“Your Mum has a point, Edith love.” George remarks, looking over the top of his newspaper, his blue pencil clutched between his right index and middle finger peering around the edge of the printed sheets. “I can’t say there is anything she has baked in that oven that hasn’t come out looking and smelling wonderful.”

 

“You just want a freshly baked hot cross bun, George love.” Ada says, eyeing her husband knowingly and wagging a finger at him.

 

“Well,” George remarks, folding his newspaper crisply in half and casting it and his pencil onto the kitchen table as he drags his Windsor chair across the flagstones and sits at the table opposite his daughter. ‘Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t say no to one.” He rubs his stomach, enwrapped in an argyle patterned***** knitted vest, indicating his hungriness. “No-one makes hot cross buns as nicely as you do, Ada my love.”

 

“Oh you!” Ada flaps her red trimmed yellow cloth at him playfully, before leaning forward with a groan to kiss her husband tenderly on the lips. “You always know how to wrangle what you want out of me.”

 

“Flattery never fails.” George admits with a gormless grin.

 

“Alright Edith love.” Ada says with a sigh, albeit a happy one as she happily gives in to her husband’s indulgence. “Will you be a help and fetch down the tea things and some plates, whilst I fill the Brown Betty******.”

 

“Yes Mum!” Edith replies with eagerness, anxious to enjoy and savour the delight of one of her mother’s home made hot cross buns.

 

A short while later the table is set with a selection of Ada’s mismatched china pieces, all market finds she has made by her over the years, taken down from the shelves of the great, dark Welsh dresser behind Edith’s ladderback chair. George has a pretty blue and white floral sprigged Royal Doulton******* cup, whilst Ada has a pink, yellow and blue floral Colclough******** one, and Edith has her favourite yellow rose Royal Albert********* teacup with its dainty fluted sides and gilt edge. The Brown Betty sits gleaming between them, steam rising in delicate curlicues from her spot, flanked by a pretty Victorian milk jug and sugar bowl which is missing its lid.

 

“Right then!” Ada says cheerfully as she picks up a plate. “One for you George.” She picks up a hot cross bun and plops it on the plate and hands it to her husband, who accepts it gratefully with wide, hungry eyes. “And one for you, Edith love.” She picks up a second bun and places it on a plate which she then hands to her daughter. “And lastly one for me.” She adds one to her own plate. ‘Please help yourself to butter.” She indicates with an open hand to the small square of butter sitting in a gleaming clear glass dish.

 

“I wonder who will get the last one?” George asks, eyeing the remaining hot cross bun on the silver baking tray.

 

“Yes, I wonder.” Ada says sarcastically with raised eyebrows, knowing full well, as does Edith, that George will claim the last one for himself.

 

“You know the story of how your mum and I met, don’t you Edith love?” George asks as he cuts his bun in half with a knife.

 

Edith rolls her eyes. “Of course I do, Dad!” she replies with a good natured smile. “You have told Bert and I more times than I can count how you met Mum at the young people’s social picnic in Roundwood Park********** organised by the Vicar of All Souls***********. You tell us that Mum wouldn’t have been nearly as attractive if she hadn’t been carrying a tin of her best biscuits at the time.”

 

“Pshaw!” Ada scoffs as she butters her own hot cross bun before handing the dish to her husband.

 

“It’s true.” He accepts the butter dish. “Your mum knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and it certainly is mine.”

 

“Pshaw!” Ada repeats. “You mean you weren’t attracted to me anyway?” She turns back to her daughter. “I looked very fetching that day. I was wearing my new Sunday best dress for spring which I’d made especially for the picnic. It was made of cotton decorated with sprigs of pink roses, and it had leg-of-mutton sleeves************. I was wearing my best Sunday hat too, made of straw with the dried flowers around the brim.”

 

“Yes,” George replies, clearing his throat awkwardly. “You were as lovely as a summer’s day, Ada.”

 

Ada giggles rather girlishly, an unusual thing for Edith to witness and pushes a few loose strands of her mousy brown hair flecked with grey that has come loose from her bun behind her ear. “Your father was too shy to talk to me. It was only because I thought he looked rather handsome in his Sunday best suit and I asked him if he’d like a biscuit that we even spoke.”

 

“I say, steady on, old girl!” George retorts, clearing his throat awkwardly again. “That’s not how I remember it.”

 

“Men seldom remember the truth of things in the aftermath.” Ada winks at her daughter conspiratorially. “They are very good at inventing their own history.”

 

“Well, anyway,” George blusters as his cheeks redden with embarrassment, suggesting there is more than a little truth to his wife’s story. “What I wanted to ask you, Edith,” He focusses his attention on his daughter, trying to ignore his wife’s smug smile, pausing his buttering of his hot cross bun “Was, did I ever tell you about the first Easter Sunday picnic we had after your mother and I had been stepping out together?”

 

“No.” Edith replies, accepting the butter dish as he passes it to her, sitting more upright in her seat as she pays close attention. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Do you remember that picnic, Ada love?” George asks, smiling at his wife, his eyes sparkling with happiness and love.

 

Ada pauses for a moment, her buttered bun paused between her plate and her mouth. Her brow crumples over her eyes as she concentrates. “I remember the crocuses were out. The lawns near the old Lodge House Café************* were a sea of purple and lilac, with a smattering of orange.”

 

“As they are every spring, Ada love.” George remarks.

 

Edith bites into one half of her hot buttered hot cross bun and sighs with happiness, savouring the taste of the freshly baked and lightly spiced dough and warm, juicy currants as she chews.

 

“Do you remember anything else, Ada love?” George asks his wife as he bites into his own hot cross bun, washing the mouthful down with a swig of tea from his cup.

 

“I obviously must have made hot cross buns.” Ada adds hopefully, but the doubt in her voice demonstrates clearly that she doesn’t remember. “Or you wouldn’t have brought this reminiscence up.”

 

George chuckles, snoring through his nose as he finishes his mouthful of hot cross bun. “I’ll say you did!” he manages to say jovially as he chews.

 

Edith swallows her mouthful of bun and deposits the remainder on her plate. Picking up her teacup she asks before sipping its contents, “Well don’t keep me in suspense, Dad!” She swallows her tea. “What happened?”

 

“Yes, what did happ…” Ada begins, before halting mid-sentence and starting again. “Am I going to want our daughter to hear whatever you’re about to share, George Watsford?” She returns her untouched half of her bun to her plate and looks sharply at her husband.

 

“Goodness Ada, how suspicious you are.” George chuckles good naturedly. He turns to his daughter. “That’s marriage for you. Are you sure you want to marry Frank?” he adds jokingly.

 

“Oh Dad!” Edith laughs, flapping her hand dismissively at him.

 

“What are you going to tell our daughter, George?” Ada persists.

 

“I was simply going to tell Edith about how popular your hot cross buns were that day.” George elucidates.

 

“Oh well, that’s alright then.” Ada replies, heaving a sigh of relief, easing her tensed shoulders and settling back into the round spindled back of her Windsor chair. Picking up the half a hot cross bun she gives her permission by nodding and saying, “Go ahead.” She then takes a bite of her bun and sighs happily.

 

After quickly scoffing the remainder of his first half of his hot cross bun, George rubs his buttery fingers together before steepling them over his plate and staring at his daughter who returns his gaze with alert eyes, anxious to know what transpired. “Well Edith, as you know at these sorts of occasions, once again being a young people’s Easter Sunday picnic organsied by the Vicar, everyone knew everyone else.”

 

George pauses and looks at his wife to see if she remembers the picnic, however her face remains passive, her eyes inquisitive.

 

“Go on Dad.” Edith says with anticipation.

 

“And of course that meant that everyone also knew about your mum’s baking prowess.” George goes on.

 

“Oh George!” Ada gasps, blushing at her husband’s compliment.

 

“What happened, Dad?” Edith asks.

 

“Well, on the day of the Easter Sunday picnic, your mum had baked me a basket of fresh hot cross buns that we were able to share, but when we sat down,” He turns his attentions back to his wife. “Lilian and Ernie Pyecroft, who were of course only young lovers a-courting then too and not married, came and joined us.” George chuckles as he remembers. “Your mum offered them a freshly baked hot cross bun each, which they took. And then your Aunt Maud arrived with your Uncle Sydney and she offered them a bun each, and then the Vicar and his wife walked past, so she offered them one each.”

 

“It was the right and Christian thing to do, George,” Ada defends herself. “To offer the Vicar and his wife a hot cross bun each! I could hardly have not! I would have looked stingy.”

 

“Aha!” George laughs, pointing at his wife. “You do remember then, Ada!”

 

“Of course I remember, George love.” Ada replies, her face flushing with embarrassment.

 

“Well, what was so wrong with offering the Vicar and his wife a hot cross bun, Dad?” Edith asks. “I’d have done the same.”

 

“Of course you would, Edith love.” Ada purrs. “I’m proud of you.”

 

“Because,” George explains with a loud guffaw. “By the time she had done that, she’d given away all the hot cross buns she’s made for us, and I didn’t get to have a one that day!”

 

“Oh Mum!” Edith replies as she starts to giggle.

 

“I was just trying to be a good, Christian soul.” Ada defends herself again, folding her arms akimbo, but blushing bright red as she does.

 

“You were that,” George laughs harder. “To my detriment!”

 

Then even Ada starts to laugh at the tale of that Easter many springs ago before the war. “At least I made you some more the next Sunday when we had a picnic, George Watsford! And you were able to have as many as you wanted.”

 

George’s laughs start to subside, and he concurs with this wife.

 

“What did you eat then, if all the hot cross buns were gone?” Edith asks her parents.

 

“Oh don’t worry, Edith love. I knew your father had a good appetite, so I’d also made a nice cherry cobbler, which we made short work of.”

 

“We did that.” George agrees.

 

The family trio continue to enjoy their hot buttered fresh hot cross buns, chuckling away at George’s tale as they finish them off. The kitchen feels warm and cosy filled with the smell of Ada’s hot cross buns and the sound of their gentle enjoyment of them. True to his usual form, George scoffs the last of his first hot cross bun, and then helps himself to the last one on the tray between them all. Ada and Edith smile at him indulgently as they watch him enjoy it like a little boy.

 

“More tea, Edith love?” Ada asks, picking up the Brown betty and proffering its tilted spout towards her daughter’s teacup.

 

“Yes please, Mum.” Edith replies, lifting up her cup.

 

As Ada fills her daughter’s cup, a thoughtful look crosses Edith’s face.

 

“Mum, I’ve just had the loveliest idea.” she says looking up at her mother.

 

“What’s that, Edith love?” Ada asks.

 

“Well, why don’t we have a picnic on Easter Sunday in Roundwood Park: you Dad, me and Frank!” Edith enthuses. “You can bake hot cross buns and I’ll make some sandwiches. It will give me a good excuse to use the wonderful picnic basket Bert brought back from Australia for me.”

 

“What about Mrs. McTavish, Edith?” George asks.

 

“Oh, she’s gone to stay with her brother in Aberdeen, as she does every year at Easter, Dad, so it’s just Frank on his own.”

 

“Well, I think that sounds like a capital idea, Edith.” Ada agrees. “Let’s do it! What do you think, George?”

 

“I’m happy to, Ada love, but only on one condition though.” George adds.

 

“What?” Ada and Edith ask at the same time.

 

“That there are to be no giving of hot cross buns to any passenger vicars.” Georg says with a definite nod as he eats the last of his second hot cross bun.

 

*A hot cross bun is a spiced bun, usually containing small pieces of raisins and orange peel, marked with a cross on the top, which has been traditionally eaten on Good Friday in the United Kingdom, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Canada, India, Pakistan, Malta, the United States and the Commonwealth Caribbean. They are available all year round in some countries now, including the United Kingdom and Australia. The bun marks the end of the season of Lent and different elements of the hot cross bun each have a specific meaning, such as the cross representing the crucifixion of Jesus, the spices inside signifying the spices used to embalm him and sometimes also orange peel reflecting the bitterness of his time on the cross.

 

**The Sunday Express became the first newspaper to publish a crossword in November 1924.

 

***The term “old hat”, meaning out-of-date or old fashioned, is a relatively new saying, dating from 1911, taken quite literally from the words “old” and “hat”.

 

****Coke is a grey, hard, and porous coal-based fuel with a high carbon content. It is made by heating coal or petroleum in the absence of air. Coke is an important industrial product, used mainly in iron ore smelting today, but was also commonly used as a cheap fuel in stoves and forges in the Victorian and Edwardian eras before the and even in the immediate years after the Second World War. The unqualified term "coke" usually refers to the product derived from low-ash and low-sulphur bituminous coal by a process called coking.

 

*****An argyle pattern features overlapping diamonds with intersecting diagonal lines on top of the diamonds. They are traditionally knit, not woven, using an intarsia technique. The pattern was named after the Seventeenth Century tartan of Clan Campbell of Argyll in western Scotland.

 

******A Brown Betty is a type of teapot, round and with a manganese brown glaze known as Rockingham glaze. In the Victorian era, when tea was at its peak of popularity, tea brewed in the Brown Betty was considered excellent. This was attributed to the design of the pot which allowed the tea leaves more freedom to swirl around as the water was poured into the pot, releasing more flavour with less bitterness.

 

*******Royal Doulton is an English ceramic manufacturing company dating from 1815. Operating originally in Vauxhall, London, later moving to Lambeth, in 1882 it opened a factory in Burslem, Stoke-on-Trent, in the centre of English pottery. From the start the backbone of the business was a wide range of utilitarian wares, mostly stonewares including storage jars, tankards and the like, and later extending to pipes for drains, lavatories and other bathroom ceramics. From 1853 to 1902 its wares were marked Doulton & Co., then from 1902, when a royal warrant was given, Royal Doulton. It always made some more decorative wares, initially still mostly stoneware, and from the 1860s the firm made considerable efforts to get a reputation for design, in which it was largely successful, as one of the first British makers of art pottery. Initially this was done through artistic stonewares made in Lambeth, but in 1882 the firm bought a Burslem factory, which was mainly intended for making bone china tablewares and decorative items. It was a latecomer in this market compared to firms such as Royal Crown Derby, Royal Worcester, Wedgwood, Spode and Mintons, but made a place for itself in the later 19th century. Today Royal Doulton mainly produces tableware and figurines, but also cookware, glassware, and other home accessories such as linens, curtains and lighting. Three of its brands were Royal Doulton, Royal Albert and (after a post-WWII merger) Mintons. Royal Doulton is one of the last great British bone china manufacturers still in existence.

 

******** Colclough Bone China was founded in Staffordshire in 1890 by Herbert J. Colclough, the former mayor of Stoke-on-Trent. Herbert loved porcelain and loved the ordinary working man. One of his desires was to bring fine bone china, a preserve of the upper and middle classes, to the working man. He felt that it would give them aspirations and dignity to eat off fine bone china. Colclough Bone China received a Royal Warrant from King George V in 1913. Colclough went on to innovate the production of fine bone china for the mass market in the 1920s and 1930s. They produced the backstamp brands Royal Vale and Royal Stanley. Colclough Bone China merged with Booth’s Pottery and later acquired Ridgeway China. Eventually they amalgamated with Royal Doulton in the 1970s.

 

*********In 1896, Thomas Clark Wild bought a pottery in Longton, Stoke on Trent, England, called Albert Works, which had been named the year before in honor of the birth of Prince Albert, who became King George VI in 1936. Using the brand name Albert Crown China, Thomas Wild and Co. produced commemorative bone-china pieces for Queen Victoria's 1897 Diamond Jubilee, and by 1904 had earned a Royal Warrant. From the beginning, Royal Albert's bone china dinnerware was popular, especially its original floral patterns made in rich shades of red, green, and blue. Known for incredibly fine, white, and pure bone china, Royal Albert was given to the sentimental and florid excesses of Victorian era England, making pattern after pattern inspired by English gardens and woodlands. With designs like Serena, Old English Roses, and Masquerade and motifs inspired by Japanese Imari, the company appealed to a wide range of tastes, from the simplest to the most aristocratic. In 1910, the company created its first overseas agency in New Zealand. Soon it had offices in Australia, Canada, and the United States. Willing to experiment with the latest in industrial technologies, the company was an early adopter of kilns fuelled by gas and electricity. Starting in 1927, Royal Albert china used a wide variety of more stylized backstamps, some with the crown, some without, and others stylized with script and Art Deco lettering. Some of these marks even had roses or other parts of the pattern in them. Patterns from the years between the wars include American Beauty, Maytime, Indian Tree, Dolly Varden, and Lady-Gay. The '40s saw patterns like Fragrance, Teddy's Playtime, Violets for Love, Princess Anne, Sunflower, White Dogwood, Mikado, Minuet, Cotswold, and the popular Lady Carlyle. Royal Albert incorporated as a limited company in 1933, and in the 1960s it was acquired by Pearson Group, joining that company's Allied English Potteries. By 1970, the porcelain maker was completely disassociated with its T.C. Wild & Sons origins and renamed Royal Albert Ltd. Pearson Group also acquired Royal Doulton in 1972, putting Royal Crown Derby, Royal Albert, Paragon, and the Lawleys chain under the Royal Doulton umbrella, which at this point included Minton, John Beswick, and Webb Corbett. In 1993, Royal Doulton Group was ejected from Pearson Group, for making less money than its other properties. In 2002, Royal Doulton moved the production of Royal Albert china from England to Indonesia. A few years later, Waterford Wedgwood absorbed Royal Doulton Group and all its holdings, which currently makes three brands, Royal Doulton, Minton, and Royal Albert, including the Old Country Roses pattern, which is Royal Albert’s most popular design.

 

**********Roundwood Park takes its name from Roundwood House, an Elizabethan-style mansion built in Harlesden for Lord Decies in around 1836. In 1892 Willesden Local Board, conscious of a need for a recreation ground in expanding Harlesden, started the process of buying the land for what is now Roundwood Park. Roundwood Park was built in 1893, designed by Oliver Claude Robson. He was allocated nine thousand pounds to lay out the park. He put in five miles of drains, and planted an additional fourteen and a half thousand trees and shrubs. This took quite a long time as he used local unemployed labour for this work in preference to contractors. Mr. Robson had been the Surveyor of the Willesden Local Board since 1875. As an engineer, he was responsible for many major works in Willesden including sewerage and roads. The fine main gates and railings were made in 1895 by Messrs. Tickner & Partington at the Vulcan Works, Harrow Road, Kensal Rise. An elegant lodge house was built to house the gardener; greenhouses erected to supply new flowers, and paths constructed, running upward to the focal point-an elegant bandstand on the top of the hill. The redbrick lodge was in the Victorian Elizabethan style, with ornamented chimney-breasts. It is currently occupied by council employees although the green houses have been demolished. For many years Roundwood Park was home to the Willesden Show. Owners of pets of many types, flowers and vegetables, and even 'bonny babies' would compete for prizes in large canvas tents. Art and crafts were shown, and demonstrations of dog-handling, sheep-shearing, parachuting and trick motorcycling given.

 

***********The parish of All Souls, Harlesden, was formed in 1875 from Willesden, Acton, St John's, Kensal Green, and Hammersmith. Mission services had been held by the curate of St Mary's, Willesden, at Harlesden institute from 1858. The parish church at Station Road, Harlesden, was built and consecrated in 1879. The town centre church is a remarkable brick octagon designed by E.J. Tarver. Originally there was a nave which was extended in 1890 but demolished in 1970.

 

************A gigot sleeve is a sleeve that was full at the shoulder and became tightly fitted to the wrist. It was more commonly known as a leg-of-mutton sleeve.

 

*************Oliver Claude Robson who designed Roundwood Park decided that a café would be a good addition to the park, so in 1897 a suitable building was designed and constructed by council employees. It was made of brick and timber with a steeply pitched slate roof and gables, with a verandah surrounding it. Various owners succeeded one another. In 1985, a new building was constructed because the old one became run down.

 

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

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The hot cross buns on the silver baking tray on the kitchen table have been made in England by hand 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 Brown Betty teapot, made of real glazed pottery, comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom. various odd china pieces all come from online stockists of miniatures on E-Bay. The newspaper which features an image of Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, the future Queen Elizabeth and one day Queen Mother, is a copy of a real Daily Mail newspaper from 1925 and was produced to high standards in 1:12 by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The pencil on top of it is a 1:12 miniature as well, acquired from Melody Jane Dolls’ House Suppliers. It is only one millimetre wide and two centimetres long.

 

Edith’s handbag handmade from soft leather is part of a larger collection of hats and bags that I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel, including Ada’s tan soft leather handbag seen resting against her basket at the right of the picture.

 

Edith’s black dyed straw hat with purple roses and black feathers 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.

 

In the background you can see Ada’s dark Welsh dresser cluttered with household items. Like Ada’s table, the Windsor chair and the ladderback chair to the left of the photo, I have had the dresser since I was a child. The shelves of the dresser have different patterned crockery and silver pots on them 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 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 canning and preservation revolutionised domestic cookery. Amongst other foods on the dresser are a jar of Bovril, a tin Bird’s Golden Raising Powder, some Ty-Phoo tea, a tin of S.P.C. canned fruit 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.

 

Bovril is the trademarked name of a thick and salty meat extract paste similar to a yeast extract, developed in the 1870s by John Lawson Johnston. It is sold in a distinctive bulbous jar, and as cubes and granules. Bovril is owned and distributed by Unilever UK. Its appearance is similar to Marmite and Vegemite. Bovril can be made into a drink ("beef tea") by diluting with hot water or, less commonly, with milk. It can be used as a flavouring for soups, broth, stews or porridge, or as a spread, especially on toast in a similar fashion to Marmite and Vegemite.

 

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

 

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

 

S.P.C. is an Australian brand that still exists to this day. In 1917 a group of fruit growers in Victoria’s Goulburn Valley decided to form a cooperative which they named the Shepperton Fruit Preserving Company. The company began operations in February 1918, canning pears, peaches and nectarines under the brand name of S.P.C. On the 31st of January 1918 the manager of the Shepparton Fruit Preserving Company announced that canning would begin on the following Tuesday and that the operation would require one hundred and fifty girls or women and thirty men. In the wake of the Great War, it was hoped that “the launch of this new industry must revive drooping energies” and improve the economic circumstances of the region. The company began to pay annual bonuses to grower-shareholders by 1929, and the plant was updated and expanded. The success of S.P.C. was inextricably linked with the progress of the town and the wider Goulburn Valley region. In 1936 the company packed twelve million cans and was the largest fruit cannery in the British empire. Through the Second World War the company boomed. The product range was expanded to include additional fruits, jam, baked beans and tinned spaghetti and production reached more than forty-three million cans a year in the 1970s. From financial difficulties caused by the 1980s recession, SPC returned once more to profitability, merging with Ardmona and buying rival company Henry Jones IXL. S.P.C. was acquired by Coca Cola Amatil in 2005 and in 2019 sold to a private equity group known as Shepparton Partners Collective.

 

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.

 

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).

BERRIES

Muslims offer the early morning prayerEid-Ul-Fitr or the 'festival of fast breaking' at the Hamidiya Masjid, in Mumbai. Muslims across the nation celebrated Eid that marks the end of the holy month of Ramzan, after the sighting of the new crescent moon.

 

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.

 

Tonight however we are not in Lettice’s flat, and whilst we have not travelled that far physically across London, the tough streets and blind alleys of Poplar in London’s East End is a world away from Lettice’s rarefied and privileged world. We have come to the home of Lettice’s charwoman*, Mrs. Boothby, where we find ourselves in the cheerful kitchen cum parlour of her tenement in Merrybrook Place: by her own admission, a haven of cleanliness amidst the squalor of the surrounding neighbourhood.

 

The sun is setting on the late autumnal, cold November day. The golden orb, which has been shrouded in clouds for most of the day is now barely a dull greenish yellow glow above the rooftops of the tenements opposite Mrs. Boothby’s own terrace as a thick fog, fed by all the coal and wood fires heating the houses of London, begins to settle in. As darkness envelops the streets, warm flickering lights begin to appear in the windows of Merrybrook Place as its citizens settle in for an evening at home.

 

Mrs. Boothby has just reached for her tobacco when she hears a pounding on her door. Looking up in surprise, she remains silent and unmoving, all her senses suddenly alert. The hammering comes again. She gets up and walks over to the corner of the room where she reaches for her broom. The knocking comes a third time.

 

“Hoo’s there?” Mrs. Boothby’s cockney voice calls out in a steely fashion, attempting to project a stronger persona than the wiry and older little charwoman that she is. “Whatchoo want?”

 

“It’s me, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith voice calls weakly from the other side of the door. “Edith.”

 

Mrs. Boothby gasps aloud, swiftly unbolts the door and flings it open, appearing in the doorway, still with her broom in her hand. “Ere! Whatchoo doin’ ‘ere, Edith dearie? You come ‘ere on your own did ya?”

 

Mrs. Boothby’s eyes grow wide as she sees Edith’s tear stained face in the golden light reflected from the paraffin lamp that illuminates her parlour.

 

“I’m sorry to call on you unannounced,” Edith snivels. “I just didn’t know where else to go.”

 

The old Cockney woman quickly puts the broom aside, next to the open door, and embraces Edith in a firm hug. “Come in in wiv you, Edith dearie!” As she draws Lettice’s young maid-of-all-work into her tenement, she glances over Edith’s shoulder with owl eyes at the darkened streetscape slowly being softened by the greenish fog outside. There is no-one else around, but down at the end of her rookery**, where the privies are, she notices a flash of a shadow as two mangy stray cats hiss and spit at one another in either play or in a territorial war. In the distance a dog barks. Then she notices the tatty lace curtains in one of her neighbours’ windows rustle and quiver. “Keep your big bloody Yid*** nose out of my business, Golda Friedman!” Mrs. Boothby calls out angrily across the way.

 

“Ahh shuddup!” a strident male voice from somewhere above and further down the terrace calls out. Whether directed at Mrs. Boothby or elsewhere, the old charwoman doesn’t care as she begins to close her door. The curtains at Golda Friedman’s windows flutter quickly once again and then stop.

 

“Cor! You didn’t ‘alf give me a turn!” Closing the door behind her, Mrs, Boothby heaves a sigh of relief. “Edith dearie, whatchoo doin’ ‘ere?” she asks again. “You’re takin’ your pretty young life in your own ‘ands comin’ dawhn ‘ere this time of day. Poplar’s like an old shape shifter**** as the London fogs settle in for the night, and streets you fought you knew well, are suddenly strangers, unless you’re a local like me, whoo can find their way through the fog.”

 

“I’m sorry Mrs. Boothby.” Edith apologises again, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before opening her green leather handbag and fetching out a dainty lace handkerchief embroidered with a cursive letter E in pale blue cotton. “I… I just didn’t know where else to go. What with Miss Lettice being out with Mr. Bruton at the Café Royal***** this evening, I just couldn’t bear to be alone at Cavendish Mews with my thoughts.”

 

“There, there, Edith dearie!” Mrs. Boothby enfolds Edith in an all-embracing hug again, tightening her wiry arms around Edith’s trembling figure and patting her on the back with her gnarled and careworn hands. “It’s alright. You’re ‘ere nawh. No ‘arm done.” Then she releases her, steps back slightly and looks again at Edith’s blotched and reddened face. Grasping her by the shoulders she gasps, “Youse didn’t get attacked by a man on the way dawhn ‘ere, did cha? That ain’t why yer cryin’ is it?”

 

Edith releases a snuffly guffaw. “No, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

“Fank the lawd for that!” the old woman casts her eyes up to the oatmeal cigarette smoke stained ceiling. “A nice girl dressed like you is, is ripe for pickin’s on them streets out there. You should only be comin’ dahwn ‘ere wiv me by your side to guide you, Edith dearie!”

 

A soft, hurried tapping on the wall adjoining the tenement next door breaks into Mrs. Boothby’s speech. “You alright in there, Ida luv? I ‘eard bangin’!” the anxious muffled voice of Mrs. Boothby’s neighbour, Mrs. Conway, calls out.

 

“Yes Lil, dearie.” Mrs. Boothby assures her. “It’s alright. Just a surprise visitor, and that nosey gossip Mrs. Friedman not mindin’ ‘er own business like usual.”

 

“Bloody Yid! Alright Ada, luv.” Mrs. Conway’s voice replies with relief. “Night.”

 

“Night Lil, dearie.”

 

“Miss Eadie!” comes a booming voice from the room.

 

Edith and Mrs. Boothby both glance across the kitchen-cum-parlour to the clean deal kitchen table. Ken, Mrs. Boothby’s mature aged disabled son sits at the table, his beloved worn teddy bear, floppy stuffed rabbit and a few playing cards in front of him. A gormless grin spreads across his childlike innocent face, but it falls away quickly when he sees that Edith has been crying. He drops his bear, his precious toy forgotten, his face darkening as he leaps up from his seat and hurries over to Edith and his mother in a few galumphing steps.

 

“Oh lawd!” Mrs. Boothby hisses. “Ken’ll be beside ‘imself!”

 

“Hoo did this, Miss Eadie?” Ken asks anxiously, hopping up and down on the spot with agitation before the two women. “Who hurt my Miss Eadie?”

 

“Nahw, nahw, son. ‘Ush nahw.” Mrs. Boothby says soothingly, raising her hands up to her son in an effort to placate him. “We don’t know niffink yet, do we?”

 

Ken’s large, careworn, sausage like finger fly to his mouth. “’Ooo made my Miss Eadie, cry?” he seethes, the anger blazing in his eyes. “I’ll kill ‘im!”

 

“Nahw, youse won’t go killin’ no-one, Ken!” Mrs. Boothby replies. “What are you like?”

 

“It’s alright, Ken,” Edith replies a little shakily. “It’s just my beau. He said something that upset me, but…”

 

“I’ll kill him!” Ken interrupts, his voice rising in anger. “I’ll kill that bastard!”

 

“Ken!” Mrs. Boothby snaps. “Whatchoo fink Miss Eadie is gonna fink, you cussin’ like that in front of ‘er! Fink I raised you up a bad’n, she will! Miss Eadie is a lady!”

 

“Oh!” Ken gasps in apology. “Sorry Mum!”

 

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Ken!” Mrs. Boothby snaps. “It’s Miss Eadie, ‘ere.”

 

“Sorry Miss Eadie.” Ken apologises earnestly.

 

“A nice lady like Miss Eadie ain’t gonna be your friend, nor bring you nice presents like she does, if youse go cussin’ and fretenin’ to kill ‘er beau like that in front of ‘er!”

 

“I will! I will!” Ken insists. “I’ll kill ‘im if ‘e made my Miss Eadie cry!”

 

“Oh, he didn’t mean to, Ken.” Edith assures Ken, reaching out and placing a hand comfortingly upon his forearm. “It’s alright. He just said something… something nice, but it just didn’t seem that nice to me when he said it. It’s alright. Really it is.”

 

“I’ll kill him.” Ken affirms again, but in a calmer voice as his agitation begins to dissipate.

 

“You’d never kill anyone, Ken.” Edith soothes. “I know you wouldn’t. You’re far to gentle. That’s why I like you and why I bring you pretty books and toys, because you’re gentle with them.”

 

“Whatchoo like, Ken?” Mrs. Boothby goes on. “Miss Eadie is right. You’d nevva ‘urt a fly!”

 

“Of course I’m right, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith goes on. “Look how gentle Ken is with his toys.” She nods at the teddy and rabbit lying on the table.

 

“Anyways, ‘ooo would Miss Eadie marry if you went and dun ‘er young man, in, Ken? Tell me that!”

 

“Me Mum!” Ken smiles cheerfully, the anger of moments ago forgotten in an instant. “She can marry me, Mum.”

 

“Oh that’s sweet of you, Ken,” Edith’s blush goes unnoticed because of her already reddened face. “But I think we’re probably better being very good friends, rather than stepping out together. Don’t you think?”

 

“Yes, Miss Eadie.”

 

“And you don’t have to be my beau in order for me to bring you presents, Ken.”

 

Ken’s eyes light up, this time with excitement. “Did you bring me a present, Miss Eadie?”

 

“Ken!” Mrs. Boothby scolds again. “What kind of question is that to ask our guest, when she’s not even sat down yet!”

 

Kenn immediately moves back to the kitchen table and draws out the ladderback chair that he was sitting on, encouraging Edith to sit upon it.

 

“I’m sorry Ken.” Edith apologises sadly. “No presents today. Maybe next time.”

 

“Next time is Christmas, Miss Eadie!” Ken replies, clapping his hands.

 

“Yes. Why yes it is, Ken.” Edith replies distractedly. “I’ll bring you a nice Christmas present.”

 

“You’ll do nuffink of the sort,” Mrs. Boothby hisses. “You spoil my son with all those gifts you give ‘im!”

 

“I can if I choose, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

Ignoring Edith’s reply the old woman says, “Nahw Ken, do me a favour, son. Run ‘n get me bag will you?”

 

“Yes Mum!” Ken replies as he scurries off.

 

“You ‘ungry, Edith derie?” Mrs, Boothby quickly asks Edith.

 

“Well, I hadn’t really considered it, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith replies.

 

“Well, I’m goona distract Ken by sendin’ im on an errand to go get us somfink for tea, so then you and me can ‘ave a quick chat alone wivout bein’ disturbed, if you know what I mean.” Mrs. Boothby whispers, winking at Edith. Then raising her voice more loudly, she continues, “Could you stomach some chippies, Edith love?”

 

“Well,” Edith replies with equal loudness, “Frank did take me for afternoon tea at Lyon’s Corner House****** this afternoon for sandwiches, but I did lose most of my appetite, so I’m quite peckish now.”

 

“Then some chippies will do you the world a good then, dearie!” Mrs. Boothby replies.

 

Ken quickly returns with Mrs. Boothby’s capacious blue beaded bag and hands it to his mother. She opens it and fishes around inside before withdrawing a small beaten brown leather coin purse with a silver metal clasp. She opens it and withdraws a coin. “Nahw Ken, what’s this then?” she asks, holding up a shiny bronzed halfpenny******* featuring King George on one side and Britannia seated holding a trident******** on the other between her right thumb and index finger.

 

“It’s money, Mum!” Ken scoffs with a broad smile. “I’m not dumb you know!”

 

“Ahh lawd love ya, son,” Mrs. Boothby runs her left hand lovingly along her son’s cheek before pinching it, making him smile even more broadly. “I know you ain’t. Ain’t I be the one what always tells ya not to let anyone tell you that youse fick? Nah! I know youse got more brains than a lot of people out there.” She gesticulates to the world outside their front door. “But if youse so smart, Ken, ‘ow much is it, I’d ‘oldin’ ‘ere?”

 

“It’s an ‘a’penny, Mum.”

 

“Good lad!” Mrs. Boothby agrees. “It’s an ‘a’penny bit.” She smiles proudly. “Nawh, I want you to take this ‘a’penny bit wiv ya and go round to Mr. Cricklewood’s and buy us an ‘a’penny bit’s worf of ‘ot chips, right?”

 

“Ain’t Mr. ‘Eath’s chippe closer, Mum?” Ken asks, his face crumpling up questioningly.

 

“It is, son,” Mrs. Boothby agrees. “But you know as well as I do, that Mr. Cricklewood’s chippies is much nicer. That’s why ‘e’s always got a queue out tha door on a Sunday night, ain’t it?”

 

“Yes Mum! Evva so much nicer, Mum!”

 

Mrs. Boothby drops the halfpenny in the palm of his hand. “So orf you go!”

 

“Yes Mum! An ‘a’penny bit’s worf of ‘ot chips.” Ken repeats back.

 

“Good lad!” Mrs. Boothby says encouragingly. “And whilst youse gawn, I’ll pop the kettle on, and fry us up a couple a nice eggs to go wiv ‘em. Reckon you could eat a couple a eggies, Ken?”

 

“Yes Mum!” Ken agrees in delight, rubbing his burgeoning stomach to show her how hungry he is.

 

As the door closes behind him, and Ken steps out into the dark and fog filling street, Mrs. Boothby heaves a sigh of relief.

 

“Well, that’ll distract Ken for a while.” she says. She goes to the window and pulls back the red velvet curtain that excludes the cold of the night, and watches as Ken disappears into the darkness shrouded by the growing fog. “The queues outside Cricklewood’s Fish and Chippery are ever so long on a Sunday night, even a foggy one. That it’ll give you enuff time to dry you’re tears, and me enuff time to pop on the kettle, and for us to ‘ave a quick chat undisturbed an’ get to bottom of what’s got cha so upset, Edith dearie.”

 

“I’m sorry again for dropping in on you unannounced, Mrs. Boothby, and for upsetting Ken.” Edith says.

 

“Nawh, don’t you fret about that, Edith dearie.” Mrs. Boothby replies with a dismissive wave. “I’m just glad you made it ‘ere before it gets too dark. The streets round ‘ere ain’t too safe for young slips of girls like you at night – ‘specially when there’s a fog brewin’ like tonight. Ken ‘n I will take you back to Cavendish Mews after our tea. ‘Ere, give me your coat ‘n ‘at, dearie.”

 

“Will Ken be alright?” Edith asks in concern, looking to the closed door anxiously as Mrs. Boothby shucks her out of her three quarter length black coat, a piece she picked up cheaply as per Mrs. Boothby’s recommendation from a Petticoat Lane********* second-hand clothes stall not far from Mrs. Boothby’s tenement, and remodelled it.

 

“’E’ll be fine, dearie. Don’t worry.” Mrs. Boothby replies, taking Edith’s black straw cloche decorated with black feathers and lavender satin roses obtained from Mrs. Minkin’s haberdashery in Whitechapel, another place that Mrs. Boothby recommended Edith to. “’Ooose gonna take on a great big bulk of muscle like my Ken, dearie? E’ll give anyone what tries a right royal bollockin’ if they do.” She hangs up Edith’s coat and hat on a hook behind the door. “Anyway, unlike you, our Ken’s a local, and there’s a certain amount of respect for locals, even ‘mongst the thieves and pickpockets round this way. You don’t make a mess, or enemies, in your own patch, nahw do you?”

 

“I suppose not, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith replies.

 

“Sit yourself dahwn, while I pop the kettle on. Nahw Edith dearie,” Mrs. Boothby says with concern, walking the few paces across her parlour to the old blacklead stove. “What’s all the commotion then?” She turns back and looks the young maid squarely in the face, a kindly look on her worn and wrinkled face. “Tell me why youse come to see me outta the blue like this on a Sunday night, and cryin’ at that? Are you alright?” She gasps. “Well obviously you ain’t! What was I finkin’ askin’ that? You said somfink about it to do wiv your young Frank Leadbetter? ‘As ‘e wound up in some trouble?”

 

“No Mrs. Boothby. It’s nothing as bad as all that.” Edith sinks down into the ladderback chair at the kitchen table, not too dissimilar from her one at Cavendish Mews, where Ken had been sitting, and toys idly with the paw of his well loved teddy bear. “I should be embarrassed for coming here really, and bothering you like this. You’ll think I’m stupid, no doubt.”

 

“Nahw you let me worry ‘bout what I fink about yer, dearie.” Mrs. Boothby chides Edith with a wagging finger as she fills her battered kettle from the small trough sink in the corner of the room and carries it the two paces over to the stove. “But I can tell you right nahw that I won’t fink you’re stupid, no matter what. Nahw, I ‘ope ya don’t mind, but I’m dying for a fag! I was just about ta ‘ave one when you knocked on me door.” Without waiting for a reply, Mrs Boothby starts fossicking through her capacious beaded bag, which she cast carelessly onto the tabletop after taking out the money for Ken, before withdrawing her cigarette papers, Swan Vestas and tin of Player’s Navy Cut. Rolling herself a cigarette she lights it with a satisfied sigh and one of her fruity coughs, dropping the match into a black ashtray full of used cigarette butts that also sits in its usual place on the table. “Nahw, tell me what all the trouble is then, Edith dearie.” she says, blowing forth a plume of acrid smoke.

 

“I’m almost too ashamed to tell you, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

“’Ere! ‘E weren’t bein’ ‘andsy, were ‘e?” Mrs. Boothby gasps. “Under the table like at Lyon’s Corner ‘Ouse, takin’ liberties ‘e ain’t supposed to be?”

 

“Oh no, Mrs. Boothby, nothing like that.”

 

“That’s good! I didn’t ever take Frank Leadbetter as an ‘andsy sort of chap, or I’d nevva ‘ave tried settin’ you two up.”

 

“Oh, he’s a gentleman, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

“And you ‘aven’t ‘ad a fallin’ out, ‘ave you?” the older woman asks warily.

 

“Oh no, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

“Then what’s ‘e done that’s upset cha?” Mrs. Boothby asks, before coughing again, sending forth another few billows of smoke accompanying her throaty outbursts.

 

“He was only trying to be nice, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith goes on. “You see, we had a lovely tea at Lyon’s Corner House up in Tottenham Court Road today after we went to see ‘The Notorious Mrs. Carrick’********** at the Premier*********** in East Ham. I knew Frank was distracted. I could tell he was itching to talk to me about something.”

 

“What was it, dearie? What did ‘e say?”

 

“He wanted to talk about our future, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

“And that’s a bad fing?”

 

“Well no, but what he said has raised a lot of concerns for me, you see.”

 

“So, what was that then?”

 

“Well, you know how Frank has been spending time at these trade union meetings?” Edith begins. When Mrs. Boothby nods she goes on, “He went to a trade union meeting the other week and he met up with a chum of his who told him that he might have a position opening up Frank soon, as an assistant manager at a grocers.”

 

“Well what’s so bad about that, dearie?” Mrs. Boothby asks. She pulls a face. “Certainly nuffink to get upset about! I fought that’s whatchoo bowf wanted.”

 

“We do, Mrs. Boothby, but its where it may be that’s the problem.”

 

“Where is it then? The moon?” the old Cockney woman laughs light-heartedly. “It can’t be as bad as all that, can it?”

 

“It may just as well be the moon, Mrs. Boothby. The opening is for a grocers in one of those new estates being built north-west of London.”

 

“And where are they then?” Mrs. Boothby asks. “Pardon my hignorance.”

 

“Hertfordshire or Buckinghamshire!” Edith exclaims. “Miss Lettice’s sister lives in Buckinghamshire! It’s the country!”

 

“Ahh!” Mrs. Boothby sighs knowingly, placing her cigarette between her thin lips to free her hands so she can pick up her old Brown Betty************ and fill it with water from the now boiling kettle. “So, Frank wants you to move to the country then?”

 

“Yes.” Edith sighs. “I mean, Frank says that where he’s taking about isn’t really the country as such. It’s an estate built along the railway line, not far from Wembley Park, but it sounds like its all in the planning at the moment, and in my mind, its still very much the country.” She sighs again. “And I’ve never lived in the country, and having lived in the city all my life, I don’t think I much fancy country living, especially not after that awful time Hilda and I had in Alderley Edge when we visited our friend Queenie. Remember me telling you, Mrs. Boothby?”

 

“I do dearie.” She nods as places the pot on the table, huffing out cigarette smoke as she speaks. “Everyone in those little villages knows everyone else’s business, and I ‘ate people nosin’ in on mine.” She eyes the door and pictures Mrs. Friedman’s twitching lace curtains beyond it.

 

“I mean Frank says it won’t be like that. He says there won’t be uppity families living in these new suburbs, because everyone will be working class, like us, or maybe middle-class, but there will still be the people who have lived in those areas for generations, surely, and they’ll be the ones who’ll rule the roost.”

 

“Indeed they will, Edith dearie. Country folk don’t like town folk any more than we like them.”

 

“Have you been to the country before, Mrs. Boothby?”

 

“Good lawd no!” Mrs. Boothby cries before coughing again as she stubs her cigarette butt out in the ashtray. “But I’ve read about it, mark my words. I’d never give up my life in the city. I ‘ave ‘eard and know enuff ‘bout the country to know it’s far too quiet out there for someone like me! Nah! I ain’t for the country and the country ain’t for me nivver.”

 

“Frank says that the air out there is fresher and healthier, with none of the pea-soupers************* we get here in London, like tonight.”

 

“I fink that talk ‘bout fresh air’s overrated. They got cows in the country, ain’t they?”

 

“Yes, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

“Then you tell me, wiv all them cows out there, ‘ow can the air be fresh? It’d be full of cow farts and cow droppin’ smells, and we all know that horse droppin’s stink, and I don’t imagine the same from cows would smell any better!”

 

“I hadn’t actually thought about that, Mrs. Boothby. I can’t say that I noticed the smell of cow droppings in Alderley Edge.”

 

“Well, it sounds like they’s far too grand there to even ‘ave cow droppin’s, so they might not ‘ave any, Edith dearie.”

 

“What really concerns me, Mrs. Boothby, more than the quiet, or the cow droppings, is the fact that I won’t have my family nearby, or the people I love: no Mum, no Dad, no Hilda, no you, Mrs. Boothby, and that’s what really made me upset. The realisation of how isolated I might be didn’t really strike me until I got back to Cavendish Mews and I was on my own with Miss Lettice out. I listened to the silence and I suddenly started to cry, and that’s when…” Edith cannot finish her sentence as she starts to cry again. She quickly fishes out her handkerchief again.

 

“And that’s when you come to see me.” Mrs. Boothby concludes, once again wrapping her arms around Edith.

 

“Exactly.” Edith’s muffled voice from within her handkerchief agrees. “I wanted to be with a friend.”

 

“And do you are! Nahw let me pour you a nice cup of Rosie Lee**************, dearie.” Mrs. Boothby fetches a dainty floral cup from her large Welsh dresser and sets it in front of Edith. She then gathers her sugar bowl and fetches a small glass jug of milk from a poky cupboard in a dark corner of the room that serves as her larder. She lifts up the well worn Brown Betty pot and pours a slug of brackish, well steeped tea into Edith’s cup. “I’ll let ya add your own milk ‘n sugar, dearie.” She pauses for a moment and looks across at Edith with worry in her eyes. “Although considerin’ the state yer in, I fink you should add a couple of sugars, personally. Then dry your eyes again. Ken’ll be ‘ome soon wiv the chippies I sent ‘im out for an’ ‘ell be beside ‘imself all over again like before if ‘e sees you blubbin’. ‘E won’t know whevva to punch the lights out of Frank, or give you a big ‘ug to make you feel better.” She releases another few fruity coughs. “Finkin of which, I better get on wiv fryin’ the eggs before ‘e does get back. Nahw you just sit there and enjoy your nice cuppa Rosie Lee and compose yourself, while I get cookin’.”

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith says gratefully.

 

Mrs. Boothby walks quickly back to her larder and gasps as she withdraws some lard wrapped in foil and the eggs. “It’s Ken’s lucky day! I plumb forgot I ‘ad a rasher of bacon left over from breakfast! I’ll fry it up for ‘im to ‘ave wiv his chippie tea, and you and I‘ll ‘ave an egg each wiv ours.”

 

The old woman takes a battered old skillet and sets it on the stovetop after poking the coals to bring them to life and drive up the heat. She rolls herself another cigarette, and after lighting it, pops it between her lips and puffs away pleasurably, sending plumes and billows of acrid greyish white smoke about her like a steam locomotive. Using a wooden handled knife, she cuts some lard from the congealed square wrapped in foil and scrapes it into the skillet and leaves it to melt. Once it starts bubbling, she drops in the rasher of bacon and starts frying it.

 

“So you don’t think it would be advisable to go to the country then, Mrs. Boothby?” Edith asks.

 

“Well, that all depends.” she replies over the comforting sound of hissing fat, releasing another of her fruity coughs and a plume of smoke as she does.

 

“Depends? Depends on what?”

 

“On what the pros and cons of the circumstances are. You’ve said that you’re concerned about bein’ isolated. Fair enuff.”

 

“Well, Frank says that these estates won’t be in the country forever. He says that they are developing them all the time. He even said that places like Harlesden where Mum and Dad live and where I grew up, used to be the country.”

 

“’E’s got a fair point, Edith dearie. All of London was once countryside. Even ‘ere!” She shudders. “So, it may be a bit isolated to begin wiv, or it may not. Nahw, you’re worried that there may be some toffee-nosed people abaht.” Mrs. Boothby turns back and looks at Edith, who nods shallowly. “Well, I hate to tell you this, dearie, but there’s toffee-nosed people wherevva you go. Take that Golda Friedman from across the way.” She nods to the door again, a few pieces of ash falling from the burning end of her cigarette as she does and wafting gently through the air towards the ground. “She goes around wiv ‘er nose in the air wrapped up in that fancy paisley shawl of ‘ers, what needs a damn good wash, actin’ like she was the Queen of Russia ‘erself, lawdin’ it over us all. But she ain’t no better than the rest of us.”

 

“And Frank did say that there would be working-class people like us there too.”

 

“So, you could make some new friends there then?” Mrs. Boothby smiles as she shifts the bacon in the skillet, the aroma of cooked bacon starting to arise from the pan.

 

“Well,” Edith ponders. “I suppose so.”

 

“And youse concerned that you won’t ‘ave your mum ‘n’ dad round?”

 

“Or Hilda, or you, Mrs. Boothby.”

 

Mrs. Boothby smiles kindly as she moves the browning bacon to one side of the skillet and cracks two eggs from a small chipped white bowl into the space she has made. They hiss and fizzle as they hit the pool of bubbling fat. Smiling more broadly, she goes over to the dresser again and takes down four blue and white floral painted plates, placing three on the table, and the fourth on the edge of the stove next to the now cooling kettle.

 

“’Ere, ain’t that fancy Empire Stadium*************** what they built for the British Hempire Hexhibition**************** close to where your parents live, Edith dearie?”

 

“Well yes, I suppose.” Edith admits. “There’s even a big sign fastened to the Jubilee Clock***************** in High Street at the moment which says, ‘British Empire Exhibition, Wembley’ with a big arrow underneath it, so I guess it’s reasonably close by.”

 

“Nahw correct me if I’m wrong, but these new hestates what the’re buildin’ that your Frank is talkin’ ‘bout, they’s built along the railway line, yes?”

 

“Yes, Frank says it’s only a few stops on from Wembley Park to reach some of these estates he was thinking the openings might be in.”

 

“Well don’t that mean you’d be closer to your parents than where you are now, in Mayfair, Edith dearie?”

 

“Oh, I see what you’re doing, Mrs. Boothby.” Edith suddenly says with a smile.

 

“Hhhmmm?” Mrs. Boothby replies distractedly as she prods the edges of the eggs as they start to crisp. “What ‘m I doin’?”

 

“You’re trying to allay my concerns, aren’t you? You really think I should go to the country.”

 

“Well, just past Wembley Park ain’t the city, like ‘ere, but it ain’t the country neiver, and what I fink, don’t matter a jot. It’s what you and Frank fink, Edith dearie.”

 

“But I don’t know what to think Mrs. Boothby.” Edith replies, her face suddenly clouding over.

 

“Is Frank askin’ you to decide about movin’ wherever nahw?” Mrs. Boothby asks, coughing again between her gritted teeth holding onto the fast reducing remains of her cigarette as she speaks.

 

“Well, no, not exactly.” Edith replies. “This just came up in conversation this afternoon as a possibility for Frank when he was at the trade union meeting, and Frank wanted to tell me about it. He wanted me to consider whether I’d be happy to go.”

 

“Right.” Mrs. Boothby says. She sets the white metal flip she is using to move the eggs and bacon about aside and turns back to Edith. Lunging over, she takes her spent cigarette from between her lips and stubs it out in the ashtray. “Then I will tell you what I fink, because you’re in such a state over nuffink right nahw, that I fink you need to ‘ear it, dearie.” She places her hands firmly on her bony hips. “I fink you is lookin’ too closely at what ain’t even ‘appened yet, Edith dearie. Frank ain’t said youse movin’ anywhere yet. You ain’t even wed yet! ‘E’s just askin’ you to fink about the possibility in yer future is all. ‘E could get a new position in Clapham or Putney or somewhere, couldn’t ‘e?”

 

“Well, he could, Mrs. Boothby, although he says they may not be as advantageous as the ones he is talking about.”

 

“But ‘e could?”

 

“Well yes, of course, Mrs. Boothby. Anything could happen.”

 

“So, what youse goin’ to do is ‘ave a lovely slap-up tea of egg ‘n’ chips ‘ere, wiv Ken and me, and then Ken and me, we’s gonna take you ‘ome to Miss Lettice’s where you belong, and where you need to be before she gets ‘ome from dinner in the West End tonight at that fancy café, so you can take ‘er coat and ‘at ‘n’ all and tuck ‘er into bed.”

 

“Oh I don’t really tuck her in….” The words die on Edith’s lips as Mrs. Boothby holds up her palm in protest to stop her.

 

“And then you’re gonna go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. And then tomorra, when youse wake up, you’re gonna see this all in a much more sensible light. Right nahw, you’re in shock, see? Frank sprung this on you as a surprise, so of course it’s gonna get your mind to tickin’ over like an alarm clock. But dearie, there ain’t nuffink to be alarmed ‘bout.” Mrs. Boothby smiles at Edith, sitting at her table. “When, or if, Frank gets offered one of these fancy manager jobs ‘e’s talkin’ ‘bout, well you just need to sit dahwn wiv ‘im and talk about it - just the two of you, mind - and work out what the pros and cons are. Share your concerns wiv ‘im, just like you did wiv me, and work out togevva, whevva youse gonna be ‘appy or not.”

 

“Yes, you’re so right, Mrs. Boothby!” Edith exclaims.

 

“Yes, I am, dearie!” Mrs. Boothby agrees proudly. “You don’t get to be on this earth as long as I’ve been and not be right at least once or twice in your life. Nahw listen to me. Frank loves you. It’s as plain as the nose on your face******************, and that’s a fact. So, ‘e’s not gonna make you do anyfink that won’t make you ‘appy, and that includes movin to Timbuktu or wherever. So, if the time comes, just be ‘onest wiv ‘im, and then you can work it out togevva. It’ll be alright. Tell ‘im nahw, if ‘e wants an answer nahw, that you’ll consider it when the time comes and not before. That way you won’t lose any sleep over what might not ‘appen.”

 

A smile, gentle and warm, breaks across Edith’s face, and as she looks at her, Mrs. Boothby can see the anxiety and concerns that had her arrive at her door in a state of tears. Lift and melt away.

 

“That’s better, dearie!” The old Cockney char leans forward and gives Edith’s hand a friendly and comforting squeeze. “Nah more tears.”

 

“You’re such a good egg, Mrs. Boothby!” Edith exclaims. “And such a good friend to me!” She leaps from her seat and gives the old woman a kiss on the cheek as she throws her arms around her neck. “What would I do without you?”

 

Just at that moment, both Edith and Mrs. Boothby hear a happy whistle in the foggy rookery outside.

 

“And thinkin’ of eggs, ‘ere’s our Ken, back from Mr. Cricklewood wiv an a’penny’s worth of chippes I ‘ope!”

 

The door bursts open and Ken’s bulk appears in the doorway.

 

“Hot chippies Mum!” he says as he smiles his gormless smile at his mother and Edith.

 

*A charwoman, chargirl, or char, jokingly charlady, is an old-fashioned occupational term, referring to a paid part-time worker who comes into a house or other building to clean it for a few hours of a day or week, as opposed to a maid, who usually lives as part of the household within the structure of domestic service. In the 1920s, chars usually did all the hard graft work that paid live-in domestics would no longer do as they looked for excuses to leave domestic service for better paying work in offices and factories.

 

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

 

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

 

****A shape shifter is someone or something that seems able to change form or identity at will, especially a mythical figure such as a witch that can assume different forms (as of animals).

 

*****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.

 

******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.

 

*******The British pre-decimal halfpenny, once abbreviated ob., is a discontinued denomination of sterling coinage worth 1/480 of one pound, 1/24 of one shilling, or 1/2 of one penny. Originally the halfpenny was minted in copper, but after 1860 it was minted in bronze.

 

********The original reverse of the bronze version of the coin, designed by Leonard Charles Wyon, is a seated Britannia, holding a trident, with the words HALF PENNY to either side. Issues before 1895 also feature a lighthouse to Britannia's left and a ship to her right. Various minor adjustments to the level of the sea depicted around Britannia, and the angle of her trident were also made over the years. Some issues feature toothed edges, while others feature beading.

 

*********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.

 

**********”The Notorious Mrs. Carrick” is a 1924 British silent crime film directed by George Ridgwell and starring Cameron Carr, A.B. Imeson and Gordon Hopkirk. It was an adaptation of the novel Pools of the Past by Charles Proctor. The film was made by Britain's largest film company of the era Stoll Pictures. It was released in July 1924.

 

***********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 Brown Betty is a type of teapot, round and with a manganese brown glaze known as Rockingham glaze. In the Victorian era, when tea was at its peak of popularity, tea brewed in the Brown Betty was considered excellent. This was attributed to the design of the pot which allowed the tea leaves more freedom to swirl around as the water was poured into the pot, releasing more flavour with less bitterness.

 

*************A term originating in Nineteenth Century Britain, a pea soup fog is a very thick and often yellowish, greenish or blackish fog caused by air pollution that contains soot particulates and the poisonous gas sulphur dioxide. It refers to the thick, dense fog that is so thick that it appears to be the color and consistency of pea soup. Pea-soupers were particularly common in large industrial cities like Manchester and Liverpool and populous cities like London where there were lots of coal fires either for industry and manufacturing, or for household heating. The last really big pea-souper in London happened in December 1952. At least three and a half to four thousand people died of acute bronchitis. However, in cities like Manchester and Liverpool, where the concentration of manufacturing was higher, they continued well beyond that.

 

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

 

***************A purpose-built "great national sports ground", called the Empire Stadium, was built for the Exhibition at Wembley. This became Wembley Stadium. Wembley Urban District Council was opposed to the idea, as was The Times, which considered Wembley too far from Central London. The first turf for this stadium was cut, on the site of the old tower, on the 10th of January 1922. 250,000 tons of earth were then removed, and the new structure constructed within ten months, opening well before the rest of the Exhibition was ready. Designed by John William Simpson and Maxwell Ayrton, and built by Sir Robert McAlpine, it could hold 125,000 people, 30,000 of them seated. The building was an unusual mix of Roman imperial and Mughal architecture. Although it incorporated a football pitch, it was not solely intended as a football stadium. Its quarter mile running track, incorporating a 220 yard straight track (the longest in the country) were seen as being at least equally important. The only standard gauge locomotive involved in the construction of the Stadium has survived, and still runs on Sir William McAlpine's private Fawley Hill railway near Henley.

 

****************The British Empire Exhibition was a colonial exhibition held at Wembley Park, London England from 23 April to 1 November 1924 and from 9 May to 31 October 1925. In 1920 the British Government decided to site the British Empire Exhibition at Wembley Park, on the site of the pleasure gardens created by Edward Watkin in the 1890s. A British Empire Exhibition had first been proposed in 1902, by the British Empire League, and again in 1913. The Russo-Japanese War had prevented the first plan from being developed and World War I put an end to the second, though there had been a Festival of Empire in 1911, held in part at Crystal Palace. One of the reasons for the suggestion was a sense that other powers, like America and Japan, were challenging Britain on the world stage. Despite victory in Great War, this was in some ways even truer in 1919. The country had economic problems and its naval supremacy was being challenged by two of its former allies, the United States and Japan. In 1917 Britain had committed itself eventually to leave India, which effectively signalled the end of the British Empire to anyone who thought about the consequences, while the Dominions had shown little interest in following British foreign policy since the war. It was hoped that the Exhibition would strengthen the bonds within the Empire, stimulate trade and demonstrate British greatness both abroad and at home, where the public was believed to be increasingly uninterested in Empire, preferring other distractions, such as the cinema.

 

****************The cast iron Jubilee Clock has remained a Harlesden landmark since its erection at Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee in 1887. It is ornate, decorated with dolphins, armorial bearings, a fluted circular column with spirals, shields of arms and swags. When it was built, it featured four ornate gas lit lamps sprouting from its column and two drinking fountains with taps and bowls at its base. It also featured a weathervane on its top. During the late Twentieth Century elements were removed, including the lanterns and the fountain bowls. In 1997 the clock was restored without these elements, but plans are underway to restore of the weathervane and recreation of the original four circular lanterns to the clock and the two fountains.

 

*****************A idiom used to describe something that is obvious and quite clear, “plain as the nose on your face” is attributed to Francois Rabelais in 1552 by Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations. It was also used by Shakespeare in England in 1594 in Act II, Scene I of Two Gentleman of Verona.

 

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

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The black skillet with the rasher of bacon and the two eggs frying in it are an artisan piece that I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom. The blue and white plate on the edge of the stove to the right of the photograph also comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop.

 

The square of lard wrapped up in silver foil is an artisan miniature piece that I acquired from former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Frances Knight’s work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.

 

The small serrated knife with the wooden handle on the blue and white Cornish Ware plate comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

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.

 

The Box of Sunlight Soap standing on the edge of the trough sink and the jars of Coleman’s Mustard and tartaric acid on the shelf of the stove 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.

 

Sunlight Soap was first introduced in 1884. 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.

 

Colman's is an English manufacturer of mustard and other sauces, formerly based and produced since 1814 for one hundred and sixty years at Carrow, in Norwich, Norfolk. Owned by Unilever since 1995, Colman's is one of the oldest existing food brands, famous for a limited range of products, almost all being varieties of mustard.

 

The various bowls, cannisters and dishes, the kettle and the Brown Betty teapot I have acquired from various online miniatures stockists throughout the United Kingdom, America and Australia.

 

The black Victorian era stove and the ladderback chair on the left of the table and the small table directly behind it are all miniature pieces I have had since I was a child. The ladderback chair on the right came from a deceased estate of a miniatures collector in Sydney.

 

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

Lovely house we put an offer on and was accepted...want it so bad we went a little over the asking price, even in this crummy housing market. That's still a deal in this neighborhood....we've not felt so strongly about any other house...perfect modest house in the perfect location! Built in 1962, it's 1,616 sq. ft., 3 beds, "1.75" baths, and a small swimming pool with a cool mosaic tile swordfish at the bottom. With some original features, like the bathroom tiles and the two globe lights above the front door...for us, it's so positively perfect....it's odd, but we both felt "this is the place, this is home!" Now it's the waiting game and spending money on inspections and appraisals. Already getting ahead of myself and envisioning color schemes. Keeping my fingers crossed! This will be the "before" picture! The grass and shrubs have been neglected while it's been vacant, but if all goes well, the next photos will show better. I love this house!! And the Lovebirds love the trees! It isn't ultra-modern...maybe more "contemporary ranch". This photo doesn't show it very well, as it had been a rental for several years and was not cared for very well, but not destroyed, either. Still, a great deal at a rock bottom price. Not huge, but who needs that...it's a very good floor plan..where you can get to any part without having to cross through another room. Fuck urban lofts....the tired, pretentious wanna-be's can have them.

This is a scanned print from a collection of photographs taken by the late Jim Taylor A number of years ago I was offered a large number of photographs taken by Jim Taylor, a transport photographer based in Huddersfield. The collection, 30,000 prints,20,000 negatives – and copyright! – had been offered to me and one of the national transport magazines previously by a friend of Jims, on behalf of Jims wife. I initially turned them down, already having over 30,000 of my owns prints filed away and taking space up. Several months later the prints were still for sale – at what was, apparently, the going rate . It was a lot of money and I deliberated for quite a while before deciding to buy them. I did however buy them directly from Jims wife and she delivered them personally – just to quash the occasional rumour from people who can’t mind their own business. Although some prints were sold elsewhere, particularly the popular big fleet stuff, I should have the negatives, unfortunately they came to me in a random mix, 1200 to a box, without any sort of indexing and as such it would be impossible to match negatives to prints, or, to even find a print of any particular vehicle. I have only ever looked at a handful myself unless I am scanning them. The prints are generally in excellent condition and I initially stored them in a bedroom without ever looking at any of them. In 2006 I built an extension and they had to be well protected from dust and moved a few times. Ultimately my former 6x7 box room office has become their (and my own work’s) permanent home.

  

It was the development of our second generation website with its photo gallery located quite cleverly on Flickr, rather than making our own site unwieldy, that led me to start uploading photos to Flickr. It was initially for my own and historic company photos but with unlimited storage and reasonable upload speeds I soon started uploading other stuff. Scanning one of Jims photos was a random choice one winters evening, initially very slow and time consuming I nevertheless stuck with it and things just snowballed. It was obvious that there are a lot of people interested in this type of thing. I can now scan and edit in Photoshop in a minute or so per print. Out of over 30,000 images on Flickr I have around 3500 of Jims photos. I don’t promote myself on Flickr – at all! So my viewing figures grow organically, without using the mutual favourite awarding etc. that is endemic on Flickr. The statistics tell me that travel (I don’t do porn) is the most popular genre. My travel photos, particularly later stuff receive far more views than transport. The transport stuff will hit a ceiling and then build very slowly over time, with lots of people coming back to them again and again. Travel of course is far more inclusive but there is an unbelievable amount out there, far more than the 1980’s UK transport stuff. The travel and landscape photos have pushed the views past 12 million, with a current average of around 40,000 views a day, peaking with an upload from a new destination at around 90,000 views. I recall being excited with a 100 views.

 

My reasons for buying the collection were mixed. On the one hand it was a unique snapshot of the transport industry, predominantly in the north of England, from around 1980 onwards. This was my patch and my era. I passed my Class One a few days after my 21st birthday in 1980 and spent the next 17 years being a Jack the Lad on the road, waving at and crossing paths with many of the wagons that Jim photographed, in fact my owns wagons are in the mix. Jim did travel to Scotland extensively and into the Southern Hemisphere a number of times hence there is a broad range of material in his collection. I knew I wouldn’t get a chance like it again. On the other hand the reason I gave up hauling scrap around the North of England in a Foden eight wheeler was the diagnosis of an incurable form of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at the age of 38, although a low grade cancer I was already a widower with four young children and I was looking at an uncertain future and it terrified me. I wasn’t remotely ill but was treated with Chemotherapy, again, I wasn’t ill and didn’t need time off work. The shock however brought me to my senses and I came off the road, I joined the normal world, up at 6.30 not 4.30am. I didn’t realise it at the time but I had closed the door on my wagon driving days. I was worried that, at some point, I wouldn’t be able to work physically hard, bearing in mind the family business is a scrap yard – a physical sort of environment. I had it in my mind that there was a possibility that I could use my own and Jims photos to supplement my income, I had four kids to feed and I knew there wouldn’t be any family financial support – it’s not that sort of family. I still have the NHL although thankfully you wouldn’t know it. This type of thing is now considered treatable – not curable- after around forty endoscopies, a 100 stomach biopsies, bone marrow samples and endless scans of different types, I may well get to die of old age, not cancer. It was discovered almost by accident at the time, not illness on my part, and long may it stay that way! The lack of illness made the shock all the greater though.

 

I hope to avoid posting images that Jim had not taken his self, however should I inadvertently infringe another photographers copyright, please inform me by email and I will resolve the issue immediately. There are copyright issues with some of the photographs that were sold to me. A Flickr member from Scotland drew my attention to some of his own work amongst the first uploads of Jims work. I had a quick look through some of the 30 boxes of prints and decided that for the time being the safest thing for me to do was withdraw the majority of the earlier uploaded scans and deal with the problem – which I did. whilst the vast majority of the prints are Jims, there is a problem defining copyright of some of them, this is something that the seller did not make clear at the time. I am reasonably confident that I have since been successful in identifying Jims own work. His early work consists of many thousands of lustre 6x4 prints which are difficult to scan well, later work is almost entirely 7x5 glossy, much easier to scan. Not all of the prints are pin sharp but I can generally print successfully to A4 from a scan.

 

You may notice photographs being duplicated in this Album, unfortunately there are multiple copies of many prints (for swapping) and as I have to have a system of archiving and backing up I can only guess - using memory - if I have scanned a print before. The bigger fleets have so many similar vehicles and registration numbers that it is impossible to get it right all of the time. It is easier to scan and process a print than check my files - on three different PC's - for duplicates. There has not been, nor will there ever be, any intention to knowingly breach anyone else's copyright. I have presented the Jim Taylor collection as exactly that-The Jim Taylor Collection- his work not mine, my own work is quite obviously mine.

 

Unfortunately many truck spotters have swapped and traded their work without copyright marking it as theirs. These people never anticipated the ease with which images would be shared online in the future. I would guess that having swapped and traded photos for many years that it is almost impossible to control their future use. Anyone wanting to control the future use of their work would have been well advised to copyright mark their work (as many did) and would be well advised not to post them on photo sharing sites without a watermark as the whole point of these sites is to share the image, it is very easy for those that wish, to lift any image, despite security settings, indeed, Flickr itself, warns you that this is the case. It was this abuse and theft of my material that led me to watermark all of my later uploads. I may yet withdraw non watermarked photos, I haven’t decided yet.

 

To anyone reading the above it will be quite obvious that I can’t provide information regarding specific photos or potential future uploads – I didn’t take them! There are many vehicles that were well known to me as Jim only lived down the road from me (although I didn’t know him), however scanning, titling, tagging and uploading is laborious and time consuming enough, I do however provide a fair amount of information with my own transport (and other) photos. I am aware that there are requests from other Flickr users that are unanswered, I stumble across them months or years after they were posted, this isn’t deliberate. Some weekends one or two “enthusiasts” can add many hundreds of photos as favourites, this pushes requests that are in the comments section ten or twenty pages out of sight and I miss them. I also have notifications switched off, I receive around 50 emails a day through work and I don’t want even more from Flickr. Other requests, like many other things, I just plain forget – no excuses! Uploads of Jims photos will be infrequent as it is a boring pastime and I would much rather work on my own output.

 

None of my photographs are free to use – without my permission - only free to view! If you breach my copyright you are stealing what is mine and if I find out, I will pursue the case until you rectify the situation. Arguments that attempt to justify copyright theft are just excuses for theft from people with little or no understanding of copyright law – or more frequently- deliberate, selective, misinterpretation of the law – to suit their own ends. I have never knowingly refused a reasonable request, I don’t join groups but am quite happy for people to add photos to groups. I dislike exchanging long and time consuming emails – I prefer to talk on the phone, being the opposite of anti-social in person, you can’t shut me up. I am generally speaking an anti-social, social networker, I just don’t have the time for it, in fact, I joke that I am going to start a social network for internet anti-social people, you’ll just register your name and that’s it – no networking and endless mindless twaddle. Face-less Book? The antidote to Facebook. I like to get out and chat to people face to face and welcome customers with an interest in photography in to my office to chat on a regular basis. I also print – and give- A4 prints to many of the drivers that visit our yard. I photograph wagons and plant that I come into contact with in a day’s work I don’t go looking to photograph them in my free time. Wagons are a necessary evil in my life these days and they cost me money – every day! For the extensive story and history of JB Schofield &sons Ltd look here; www.jbschofieldandsons.co.uk/

 

So far photography remains a hobby, and I refuse any offers to turn it into a business, the regulations surrounding scrap and transport and the running of the yard keep me occupied most of the time. In my free time I cycle hard for fitness, walk hard for pleasure, fitness, and the challenge, take photos for pleasure and the challenge, edit them because I have to, and lastly, drink wine because I want to. There isn't time for another business. The kids are now adults and all of them work for me, and with me, another challenge.

 

A woman rests next to a collection of small clay Buddha statues, left as offerings at the Mt. Misen Hondo (Main Hall). This is where Kukai (Kobo Daishi), the founder of Shingon Buddhism, accomplished 100 days “Gumonji” training, after returning to Japan from China, in search of a spiritual place. He named Mt. Misen after Mt. Shumisen in China, similar in shape. Still, he chose Mt. Koya to establish Shingon Buddhism, where according to the myth he found the Vajra trident (Shanko, a Shingon Buddhist ritual item) he threw from the port of Mingzhou while departing in 806 from Tang, China, lodged in a pine tree.

Lexus offered the first generation IS Series from model years 1999 to 2005 as a luxury compact with more of an emphasis on sport. This one is the SportCross version which was more wagon-like than the regular sedan version. Both the IS200 and IS300 were equipped with rear wheel drive and inline 6 engines, the latter of which with a version of Toyota’s notable 2JZ-series DOHC engine. The IS 300 had the non-turbo 2JZ-GE version.

offer up, sharpies are almost going to be given away

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.

 

This evening, we have not strayed far from Cavendish Mews and are still in Mayfair, but due to a constant barrage of rain, Lettice has chosen to take a taxi, hailed for her by her maid Edith from the nearby square, to Bond Street where the premises of the Portland Gallery stand. Tonight, Lettice has been invited to the exclusive opening night of the Portland Gallery’s autumn show: a very special occasion indeed, with attendance only offered to an exclusive group of artists, patrons of the arts and special customers, like Lettice to view the very latest finds by the gallery owner, Mr. Chilvers. The gallery has been closed for the last fortnight with its thick velvet curtains drawn, excluding the inquisitive eyes and goggling glances of the foot traffic walking up and down Bond Street. As the taxi pulls up to the kerb, Lettice peers through the partially fogged up and raindrop spattered window at the impressive three storey Victorian building with Portland stone facings, which is where the gallery takes its name from. The ground floor part of the façade has been modernised in more recent times, and its magnificent plate glass windows are illuminated by brilliant light from within as guests wander about, admiring the objets d’art artfully presented in them.

 

“That’ll be four and six, mum.” the taxi driver says through the glass divider between the driver’s compartment and the passenger carriage as he leans back in his seat. Stretching his arm across the seat he tips his cap in deference to the well dressed lady swathed in arctic fox furs wearing a beaded bandeau across her stylishly coiffured blonde hair in the black leather back seat.

 

After paying the taxi fare, Lettice opens the door and unfurls a rather lovely Nile green umbrella that closely matches the fabric of her frock beneath her fur coat and alights onto the wet pavement outside. She elegantly walks the few paces over to the full-length plate-glass doors on which the Portland Gallery’s name is written in elegant gilt font along with the words ‘by appointment only’ printed underneath in the same hand. The door is opened by a liveried footman who welcomes her by name to the gallery, accepting her invitation as she steps across the threshold. “Good evening. Welcome to the Portland Gallery’s autumn show, Miss Chetwynd.” He bows as he indicates for her to step inside the crowded gallery.

 

“May I take your fur, madam?” a second liveried footman asks politely, holding up his white glove clad hands at her shoulder height, ready to accept her fox as she shucks out of it elegantly, revealing the gold sequin spangled panels running down the front of her drop waisted frock. He then takes her umbrella and carefully hangs both inside a discreet coat cupboard nearby.

 

As the door closes behind her, the quiet London street outside is forgotten as Lettice is swept up into the electrifying atmosphere of the Portland Gallery’s latest show of new and avant-garde art. The burble of vociferous, excited chatter fills her ears. Her eyes flit around the red painted gallery hung with paintings and populated with tables, cabinets and pillars upon which stand different sculptures and other artistic pieces. Everywhere the cream of London’s artistic and bohemian set and wealthy members of the upper classes mill about in small clutches remarking on the works around her. As she smiles and waves a black elbow length glove clan hand at an acquaintance from the Embassy Club, she knows it won’t be long before she sees her Aunt Eglantyne, an artist of some note in her own right, amid the bright and colourful crowd of guests, no doubt arrayed in a Delphos gown* of a dazzling shade with a cascade of precious jewels tumbling down her front and a turban adorned with a spray of jewels and an aigrette** enveloping her red hennaed hair. She sniffs the air, which is filled with a fug of different perfumes and cigarette smoke to see if she can catch a whiff of the exotic scent of her aunt’s Balkan Black Russian Sobranies***. Grasping a coupe of glittering champagne from a silver tray carried around by a maid dressed in typical black moiré with an ornamental lace apron with matching cuffs and headdress, Lettice takes a deep breath and steps into the fray.

 

She smiles and pauses to chat with friends and acquaintances she knows through her well-connected aunt or her own associations as she slowly works her way around the room, admiring the artworks. She wends her way through the assembled guests, smiling occasionally to some and waving to others. She stops to speak to art critic P. G. Konody****, laughing lightly as he dismisses a Post-Impressionist painting they stand before as “unintelligible” before she excuses herself and moves on. She sees her aunt, dressed just as she imagined, in animated conversation with a diminutive woman with bobbed hair and waves to her, her indication acknowledged by a smile of recognition and a gaze that implies that she will catch up with Lettice once she extricates herself from her current conversation. Moving on, Lettice brushes against artist Frank Brangwyn*****. When he turns, she stops and asks with interest about his latest biblical etchings and how he feels they will be received by critics such as Mr. Konody. Wending her way still further through the meandering gathering of guests, she stops again and converses with New Zealand artist Frances Hodgkins****** about her explorations into painting fabric designs. “My Aunt Eglantyne is also looking at creating in fabric, Miss Hodkins, but she is looking more at weaving after being inspired by the native carpets she saw on a trip to South America.” Lettice remarks. “She has even bought herself a large loom that she has had installed at her studio.”

 

“Ahh, Miss Chetwynd! There you are!” comes a male voice, cutting through the hubbub of chatter with its well enunciated syllables.

 

“Mr. Chilvers!” Lettice greets a smartly dressed man with a warm smile and the familiarity of the regular client that she is. “How do you do.”

 

Born Grand Duke Pytor Chikvilazde in the Russian seaside resort town of Odessa, the patrician gallery owner with his beautifully manicured and curled handlebar moustache fled Russia after the Revolution, escaping aboard the battleship HMS Marlborough******* from Yalta in 1919 along with the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna and other members of the former, deposed Russian Imperial Family. Arriving in London later that year after going via Constantinople and Genoa, the Russian emigree was far more fortunate than others around him on the London docks, possessing valuable jewels smuggled out of Russia in the lining of his coat. Changing his name to the more palatable Peter Chilvers, he sold most of the jewels he had, shunned his Russian heritage, and honed his English accent and manners, to reinvent himself as the very British owner of an art gallery in Bond Street, thus enabling him to continue what he enjoyed most about being Grand Duke Pytor Chikvilazde and participate in the thriving arts scene in his new homeland.

 

“How do you do, Miss Chetwynd. What a pleasure to have you at my little gallery’s autumn showing, even if autumn is yet to arrive.” He takes up her hand and kisses it, perhaps one of the few Russian – and definitely not British – traits he still has.

 

“Well, I think with the rain outside and the cooling temperatures, it feels much more autumnal to me out there, so I think your autumn showing is well timed, Mr. Chilvers.”

 

“I hope then, Miss Chetwynd, that you are enjoying the sparkling champagne, the glittering company.” He nods in Miss Hodgkins’ direction, acknowledging her. “And the art, of course.”

 

“Of course, Mr. Chilvers.” Lettice replies with a smile, flattered by his attentions.

 

“Now, if I can extract you from the charms of Miss Hodgkins’ company, Miss Chetwynd, there is something in particular in my latest show that I should like to draw you attention to.”

 

Lettice and Mr. Chilvers excuse themselves from Miss Hodgkins’ presence and slowly wend their way through the milling clusters of party attendees, many turning heads, craning their necks or glancing surreptitiously and with a little jealousy at Mr. Chilvers to see which guest in particular has his undivided attention. The pair stop on the black and white marble floor before one if the gallery’s fireplaces,

 

“Is that?” Lettice begins as she stares up at the striking painting hanging above the mantle lined with pottery and glass.

 

“A Picasso?” Mr. Chilvers chortles with smug delight, rather like a child who has just won a game, completing Lettice’s unfinished question. “Yes, it is.”

 

Lettice admires the bold colours and energetic strokes of thickly layered paint on the canvas. Angular lines pick out the faces and torsos of two figures. Eyes, noses, hands, two thin lines making up a mouth. Fragmented, distorted and distracted the image radiates intimacy as much as it does boldness: a hand resting on a shoulder, the pair of figures’ heads drawn closely together, both with eyes downcast.

 

“It’s called, ‘Lovers’.” Mr. Chilvers goes on. “It’s part of his latest Cubist******** pieces.”

 

“It’s remarkable!” Lettice breathes with awe.

 

“I knew you’d like it, Miss Chetwynd.” Mr. Chilvers purrs. “Well, I’ll just leave you to contemplate Mr. Picasso’s new work, Miss Chetwynd. Come and find me if you’d like ‘Lovers’.” He smiles at Lettice’s transfixed face before silently gilding away and rejoining a nearby group of his guests where he begins chatting animatedly.

 

Lettice is still staring up at the intricacies of the brushwork in the painting when she hears her name being called by another male voice. “Lettice!” Turning her head away from the artwork she finds Sir John Nettleford-Hughes at her right shoulder.

 

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 time 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, 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. Luckily Selwyn Spencely, the handsome eldest son of the Duke of Walmsford, 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 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.

 

“Sir John!” Lettice gasps.

 

“Now, now!” he chides her. “Come Lettice. We are friends now, are we not?”

 

“Indeed we are.”

 

“Then enough of this ‘Sir John’ business. John will be quite satisfactory.”

 

Lettice laughs with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry, John, but old habits and all that, don’t you know?” He smiles indulgently at her. Lettice blushes under his gaze as she goes on, “I… I wasn’t expecting to see you here this evening.”

 

“No?” he toys.

 

“No, I didn’t think a modernist exhibition like this would appeal to you, John. I’ve always assumed you to be more of a classical art appreciator.”

 

Sir John sighs a little tiredly. “Well, it’s true, I am a more classically inclined when it comes to art appreciation. I’ve just been taking to Ethel Walker********* over there about a portrait she has exhibited here, and I can’t say I particularly like it, much less abstractions like this.” He indicates to the Picasso above the fireplace. “Which looks unintelligible to me.”

 

Lettice laughs. “You sound like dear Mr. Konody over there.” She indicates to the art critic, now in conversation with two society matrons dripping in diamond and pearls over a clutch of pottery pieces by Bernard Leach**********. Turning back to the painting above the fireplace, Lettice continues, “So if you don’t like this style of art, then it begs the question, what are you doing here, John?”

 

“That’s easy, Lettice: Carter money.”

 

“Carter money?” Lettice queries.

 

This time it is Sir John who chuckles as he looks upon Lettice’s non comprehension with amusement. “I’m here with Priscilla.” he elucidates.

 

“Cilla?” Lettice queries again, at the mention of her Embassy Club coterie friend, now married to wealthy American Georgie Carter.

 

“Yes. Her husband’s department store money has opened the doors of the Portland Gallery to her, but whilst he is happy to foot the bill for anything that takes her fancy this evening, Georgie has cried off accompanying Priscila this evening after conveniently coming down with a sudden head cold, which I am no doubt sure will evaporate by breakfast tomorrow. So, as the honourary token uncle, I’m stepping in as chaperone for the evening.”

 

“Oh poor John.” Lettice puts a hand up to her mouth to obscure her smile and muffle the mirth in her voice.

 

“Oh I wouldn’t say it’s all that bad.” Sir John replies. “Whilst the art brings me little enjoyment, I do have the pleasure of your company as a result of Mr. Chilver’s little show. And,” He lifts his coupe of bubbling champagne. “The man does have fine taste in champagne.”

 

“Indeed.” Lettice agrees, raising her glass to Sir John’s where they clink together.

 

The pair walk together away from the Picasso painting and move towards the clutch of pieces by Bernard Leech. Lettice glances back over her shoulder at the painting one final time.

 

“Now, whilst this pottery isn’t my cup of tea either,” Sir John remarks, indicating to the brown glazed pottery jugs decorated with naïve images of animals and plants. ‘At least I know what they are.”

 

Lettice laughs. “Well, that’s a start, John. Cilla and I will make a modern art appreciator of you yet.”

 

“Don’t even try, Lettice.” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “Now, thinking of pottery, I am sure you will do a splendid job at Arkwright Bury. Adelina will adore the room you redecorate for her, and I know how excited Alisdair is about it. he’s told me that it will look quite marvellous! Thank you for taking it on.”

 

“Oh no, thank you for suggesting it to me at Gossington. Your nephew and Mrs. Grifford are delightful people.”

 

“I knew you’d like them, Lettice. And I believe Alisdair’s godfather, Henry Tipping************ will write another favourable article about you in Country Life************.”

 

“Apparently so, so long as Mrs. Gifford likes the room and keeps it.”

 

“I’m sure she will, Lettice. I just hope theis little job of decorating Adelina’s blue and white china room will be a good distraction for you.”

 

Lettice sighs heavily. “It will be, John. I’ve been throwing myself into my interior design work, so as not to think about Selwyn’s absence.”

 

“So, have you heard anything from young Spencely since he’s been banished to Durban, Lettice?” Sir John asks.

 

“No, I haven’t.” Lettice sighs heavily again.

 

“That’s a pity, but I’m hardly surprised. Based upon what you told me about the bargain he struck with his mother, I wouldn’t imagine he’d dare.”

 

“Have you heard anything from him at all, John?”

 

“Me? Why should I have heard anything?”

 

“Well, it’s just,” Lettice tries to keep the hopeful lilt out of her voice as she speaks. “You mentioned him, is all. I thought that perhaps you might have heard from him.”

 

“We don’t really move in the same circles, Lettice. Don’t forget that I’m a bit older than you two. I’m more inclined to be a contemporary of Zinnia,” Sir John continues, referencing Selwyn’s mother, the Duchess of Walmsford, by name. Seeing Lettice’s eyes suddenly grow wide he quickly adds, “Not that I am friends with her, I assure you Lettice. She’s a venomous viper, as you know, and I’ve every wish to avoid being in her orbit. And,” he adds. “I’m certainly not one of her spies, if you are at all concerned, Lettice.”

 

Lettice releases a pent up breath caught in her throat in a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to hear it, John. After the revelation that Lady Zinnia knew about Selwyn and I, long before we even attempted to draw attention to our relationship, I’m not sure who to trust.”

 

“Well, I did try to warn you at Priscilla’s wedding, Lettice.”

 

“I know you did, John.” Lettice concedes, glancing down into her half empty glass. “I just didn’t want to listen.”

 

“Who ever wants to listen to advice they don’t want to hear, my dear?”

 

“No-one, I suppose.”

 

“Have patience, Lettice. I may not be friends with Zinnia, but I know enough about her, not to cross her, so don’t be too hard on young Spencely for doing the same, and keep your faith. If I know anything about Zinnia, it’s that she will have spies keeping an eye on everything her son does, even in far away Durban, and no doubt she is paying someone to steam open every letter he sends, and another person to read every scrap of correspondence he writes or reads, to make sure he isn’t trying to sneak a message to you, or you him.”

 

“Do you really think so, John? I’ve been hoping against hope, and I know my friends have too, that Selwyn would get a message to me somehow. However, to date I’ve had nothing, and I’m starting to lose hope. I do worry that a year apart may lead him to think less of me, or not at all.”

 

“Don’t, Lettice. Zinnia separated the two of you to try and break your bond, but if you can stay strong, you’ll win out over her scheming. She’d like nothing better than to catch Spencley sneaking you a letter, because then by way of her agreement with him, she could legitimately force him to marry someone else. He’s playing the long game, with you as the prize, I’m sure.”

 

“Do you really think so, John?”

 

“I do, Lettice.”

 

“Well, I must confess, you’re probably one of the last people I would have expected to hear that from.”

 

“As I said to you at Gossington, I was jealous that you’d had your head turned by Spencely, but I’m over that now. Jealousy in a single older man is equally as abhorrent in an older eligible bachelor as it is in a younger unmarried lady.” He gulps the last of his champagne. “However, in saying that, if anything should happen to cause your romance to Spencely fall through, don’t forget that I’m still here as an interested party.”

 

“Is there something you know that I don’t, John?”

 

“No.” Sir John replies breezily. “I’m only saying that if anything happens.”

 

Lettice pauses, straightens and stiffens as her eyes grow wide. For a moment she doesn’t say anything. “Is that a proposal, John?”

 

Sir John’s eyes flit about the crowded gallery as he considers his response before replying. “Hhhmmm… of sorts, I suppose.” He smiles enigmatically. “I’m not suggesting that I am trying to vie for your affections, Lettice. You are obviously in love with young Spencely, and I don’t wish to come between you two, or try to dissuade you from pursuing a relationship with him.”

 

“Then what are you proposing?”

 

“All I’m offering is an alternate choice, should your plans fall through for any reason. Just keep me in mind.”

 

Lettice lowers her gaze to the image of an owl etched into the side of a pottery jug with a long spout as she contemplates what Sir John has said. “But you’re,” She lowers her voice. “You’re a philanderer, John.”

 

“I’d never propose a conventional marriage, my dear Lettice, however let’s just say that if you married me, I’d pay for and let you hang a daub like that,” he indicates with a dismissive wave to the Picasso painting. “Wherever you like in any of our houses, if you let me take my enjoyment where I like it and not complain.”

 

He squeezes her glove clad upper arm discreetly. His touch makes the champagne in her mouth taste bitter.

 

“However,” he continues. “Don’t consider it now, consider it, only if the time should ever come - and I do mean, if.”

 

“Consider what, Uncle John?” Priscilla’s voice rings out as, dressed in a striking red frock with pearls cascading down her front she sidles up next to Sir John and Lettice. Wealth suits Priscilla, Lettice decides as she takes in the transformed figure of her friend who was once so poor that she discreetly took a typing course so as to take in secretarial work to help keep debt collectors at bay from she and her widowed mother’s door.

 

“I was just telling Miss Chetwynd to,” He pauses for a moment, unable to think of something to say to Priscilla instead of the truth..

 

“Sir John,” Lettice quickly fills in the awkward gap, reverting to formal terms like Sir John did in front of her friend to avoid any unnecessary gossip spread by Priscilla. “Was just telling me to think carefully and consider before making a decision as to whether I buy that Picasso.” She points to the painting above the fireplace.

 

Priscilla looks at the Picasso. “Oh Uncle John!” she exclaims in exasperation. Turning back to Lettice she continues, “I shouldn’t listen to him, Lettice, if I were you. He’s frightfully conservative when it comes to art: a real old stick-in-the-mud. I think it’s thrilling and so avant-garde, just like you. If you like it, buy it, that’s what I say, before someone else does! What is money for, if not to spend?” She giggles girlishly.

 

“I’ll consider all my options.” Lettice says with a smile.

 

“You’ll never guess what I’ve just gone and done!” Priscilla says, bursting with excitement as she changes the subject.

 

“I’m sure I’d never guess, Cilla.” Lettice replies. “Tell us.”

 

“Well, you see that woman in the brown dress over there.” She points to a woman with brown hair tied in a loose chignon at the base of her neck in a chocolate velvet dress.

 

“Ethel Walker, do you mean?” Lettice asks.

 

“Oh, you know her then.” Priscilla says, crestfallen.

 

“She’s quite a well known artist, Cilla darling.” Lettice soothes her friend’s ego. “That’s one of the reasons why she is at this soirée this evening.”

 

“What about her?” asks Sir John, his interest piqued.

 

“Well,” Priscilla pipes up again. “I’ve just agreed to sit for her. She walked right up to me and said she thought I had an interesting face, and she wants to paint me, even though we’d not even been introduced. It was all awfully thrilling.” She pauses for a moment before going on, “Although she told me I had to come bare faced*************,” She bites her lipstick coated lower lip, coloured almost the same shade of striking red as her frock. “As she wants to paint a portrait of who I really am.”

 

“Well, that’s a great honour, Cilla darling.” Lettice says. “Ethel Walker doesn’t paint anyone she doesn’t want to. Come let’s celebrate this wonderful announcement with some fresh champagne, shall we?”

 

As Lettice walks away arm in arm with Priscilla, she glances back over her shoulder at the Picasso painting of ‘Lovers’, and Sir John Nettleford-Hughes, smiling mysteriously and saluting her with his own empty glass: two potential male influences in her future life to consider.

 

*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 term aigrette refers to the tufted crest or head-plumes of the egret, used for adorning a headdress – most popular in the Edwardian eras between the turn on the Twentieth Century and the Second World War. The word may also identify any similar ornament, in gems.

 

***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.

 

****Paul George Konody was a Hungarian-born, London-based art critic and historian, who wrote for several London newspapers, as well as writing numerous books and articles on noted artists and collections, with a focus on the Renaissance.

 

*****Sir Frank Brangwyn was born in Bruges, Belgium and was a self taught artist, save for some instruction from his architect father. He is best known for his murals and large easel paintings on heroic and biblical themes. His first prints were wood engravings and he later trained as a commercial wood engraver. Around 1900 he began etching, producing over three hundred works by 1926. His larger etchings attracted some criticism for their deeply bitten and liberally inked plates. His smaller works were considered more successful, particularly those set figures against an architectural background. He was knighted in 1941.

 

******Frances Mary Hodgkins was a New Zealand painter chiefly of landscape and still life, and for a short period was a designer of textiles. She was born and raised in New Zealand, but spent most of her working life in England.

 

*******In 1919, King George V sent the HMS Marlborough to rescue his Aunt the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna after the urging of his mother Queen Dowager Alexandra. On the 5th of April 1919, the HMS Marlborough arrived in Sevastopol before proceeding to Yalta the following day. The ship took Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna and other members of the former, deposed Russian Imperial Family including Grand Duke Nicholas and Prince Felix Yusupov aboard in Yalta on the evening of the 7th. The Empress refused to leave unless the British also evacuated wounded and sick soldiers, along with any civilians that also wanted to escape the advancing Bolsheviks. The Russian entourage aboard Marlborough numbered some eighty people, including forty four members of the Royal Family and nobility, with a number of governesses, nurses, maids and manservants, plus several hundred cases of luggage.

 

********Cubism was a revolutionary new approach to representing reality invented in around 1907–08 by artists Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque. They brought different views of subjects (usually objects or figures) together in the same picture, resulting in paintings that appear fragmented and abstracted.

 

*********Dame Ethel Walker was a Scottish painter of portraits, flower-pieces, sea-pieces and decorative compositions. From 1936, Walker was a member of The London Group. Her work displays the influence of Impressionism, Puvis de Chavannes, Gauguin and Asian art.

 

**********Bernard Howell Leach was a British studio potter and art teacher. He is regarded as the "Father of British studio pottery".

 

***********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.

 

*************Ethel Walker was disapproving of cosmetics, and was known to rebuke women in public on account of their makeup. She required her models to remove lipstick and nail polish before entering her studio in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea. A friend of hers recollected of her, “She executed commissions when she liked the look of the would-be sitters but before painting her women she would say ‘Take that filthy stuff off your lips’ for, always faithful to the motif, she could not tolerate the sudden assault of red upon an eye so sensitive to tone”.

 

Whilst this up-market London gallery interior complete with artisan pieces may appear real to you, it is in fact made up completely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection. This tableau is particularly special because almost everything you can see is a handmade artisan miniature piece.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

Central to our story, the “Lovers” painting by Picasso is a 1:12 miniature painted by hand in the style of Picasso by miniature artist Mandy Dawkins of Miniature Dreams in Thrapston. The frame was handmade by her husband John Dawkins.

 

The painting hanging to the left of the photograph is also a hand painted artisan picture. Created by miniature artist Ann Hall, it is a copy of “Place du Théâtre Francois, Paris” by Pissarro. The two pen and watercolour images hanging to the right of the photograph are by miniature artist R. Humphreys. I acquired these through Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The jug and bowl on the fireplace mantle had been hand fashioned and painted by an unknown miniature artisan ceramicist, whilst the four bottles are hand blown by another unknown miniature artisan, as is the ship in the glass bottle on the stand to the left of the fireplace. The bottles came from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdon, whilst the jug and bowl I acquired from a private collector of miniatures selling their collection on E-Bay.

 

The rather lovely soapstone container on the pedestal to the right of the fireplace is Eighteenth Century Chinese, and was rescued from a wreck in the South China Sea.

 

The painted and glazed jugs and vases on the black japanned table in the foreground are all handmade miniature artisan pieces made by an unknown potter. They were acquired from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

The glass vases in unusual shapes on the black japanned table are in reality some beautiful glass bugle beads. Between 1923 and 1939, these beads and millions like them were produced from a very successful workshop on the outskirts of Toruń in northern Poland (then Pomerania) and sent to fashion houses both locally and in cities like Prague, Vienna and Paris. Then, with the coming of Hitler's invasion of Poland and the Second World War, the owners of the workshop closed their doors. They took the beads they had in the workshop and buried them in boxes in the ground beneath the floor of the workshop and then fled, hoping to return to reclaim them some day. And so the beads remained buried beneath the flagstones throughout the Second World War when the workshop was razed, and beyond during the re-building of post-war Poland. Although still in possession of the land on which the workshop had stood, the owners and their descendants never returned to Toruń to claim them, and the beads became a thing of legend. Nearly seventy years later, descendants of the original owners returned to Toruń to live, and decided to see if there was any truth to the stories of 'buried treasure'. Much to their astonishment and delight, what they uncovered beneath the flagstones were thirty great boxes, still well preserved in the earth, of 1920s and 1930s glass bugle beads! A selection of these beads came into my possession through the mother of my goddaughters and her mother, who are extremely close friends of mine and who are artists of Polish decent directly related to the owners of the Toruń workshop.

 

The two pedestals either side of the fireplace were made by the high end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

The black ladderback chairs and the table in the foreground were made by Town Hall Miniatures.

"Gannett Offers $815 Million for Tribune Publishing" by LESLIE PICKER and SYDNEY EMBER via NYT t.co/N0bQYru4vr (via Twitter twitter.com/felipemassone/status/724590559873110016)

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 we are just a short distance from Cavendish Mews, in the artistic and bohemian suburb of Bloomsbury, where Lettice is visiting the pied-à-terre* of Phoebe Chambers, niece and ward of Lady Gladys Caxton. Through her social connections, Lettice’s Aunt Egg contrived an invitation for Lettice to an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by Sir John and Lady Caxton, who are very well known amongst the smarter bohemian set of London society for their weekend parties at their Scottish country estate, Gossington, and enjoyable literary evenings in their Belgravia townhouse. Lady Gladys is a successful authoress in her own right and writes under the nom de plume of Madeline St John. Over the course of the weekend, Lettice was coerced into accepting Lady Glady’s request that she redecorate Phoebe’s small London flat. Phoebe, upon coming of age inherited the flat, which had belonged to her parents, Reginald and Marjorie Chambers, who died out in India when Phoebe was still a little girl. The flat was held in trust by Lady Gladys until her ward came of age. When Phoebe decided to pursue a career in garden design and was accepted by a school in London closely associated with the Royal Society, she started living part time in Bloomsbury. Lady Gladys feels that the flat is too old fashioned and outdated for a young girl like Phoebe. When Lettice agreed to take on the commission, Lady Gladys said she would arrange a time for Lettice to inspect the flat the next time Lady Gladys was in London. Now the day has arrived.

 

Having heard from Lady Gladys over the course of the weekend party in Gossington that Phoebe’s pied-à-terre had been shut up for years and was in a somewhat neglected state of affairs, she expected it to be not unlike the study she recently saw at Arkwright Bury in Wiltshire, the home of Mr. and Mrs. Gifford: a room which she has also agreed to redecorate. However, unlike the musty, dust filled and forgotten study, shut up and stuffed with an odd assortment of bits and pieces and boxes of junk, Lettice is pleasantly surprised to find Pheobe’s flat remarkably cosy. Although too small for her own liking and tastes, Lettice can see how a small flat like this would suit an independent girl like Pheobe. It has one bedroom with an adjoining dressing room, a small kitchenette and a bathroom in addition to the drawing room she stands in now. Traces of the studious and serious Phoebe are everywhere with piles of books stacked on footstools and occasional tables and a cluttered desk buried under books and notes from her studies. The general feel of the flat is comfortable, studious clutter, and whilst Lettice cannot deny that the pre-war furnishings are a little outdated, they seem to be perfectly functional for Pheobe, who appears far more concerned about and focussed upon reading her collection of horticulture books and referring to her notes written in a neat hand, rather than the pattern or design of the sofa or chairs upon which she perches.

 

“So these are your friends from your horticulture course, Pheobe?” Lettice asks as she stands before the small coal fireplace that heats the drawing room and stares at the unframed photographs on its narrow mantle shelf which jostle for space with one another and packets of flower seeds. When Phoebe nods shallowly in a timid manner, Lettice takes a moment to look more closely at them. They are women of around Lettice’s age, all different sizes and shapes as they pose on a pier in an undisclosed seaside town, in front of a formal building which Lettice assumes is likely to be the Royal Horticulture Society and a final one where four girls pose in their bathing costumes at a lido. Phoebe is not amongst their number, Lettice observes. “You aren’t with them, Pheobe?”

 

“I prefer to take photographs.” Pheobe mumbles.

 

“Do you like photography, Pheobe?”

 

Pheobe nods shallowly again, and then mutters, “I prefer plants.”

 

Lettice smiles as she turns back to the photographs and goes on gingerly, so as not to frighten the mousey Pheobe, “Well, all your friends look like quite a jolly crew. Do you get along well with them all?” Phoebe doesn’t reply, but nods quickly again, causing the halo of blonde wispy curls around her face to bounce about and take on a lithe and lively life of their own.

 

“Here we are then!” comes Lady Glady’s booming voice cheerfully as she sails into the cluttered room, a sweep of lavender, lace and winking diamonds and faceted glass beads. “Tea for three.” She deposits a galleried silver tray topped with tea making paraphernalia onto an ornately decorated Edwardian tea table of mahogany standing between two armchairs upholstered in peach floral brocade and an upright backed chair upholstered in cream satin. “I can still find the tea things, even after not having lived here for more than a decade,” She looks pointedly at Pheobe. “Which just confirms my suspicions.”

 

“And what suspicions are those, Lady Gladys?” Lettice asks.

 

“Ah-ah!” the older woman wags her finger admonishing at Lettice. “We may not be at Gossington, my dear, but remember that I am still a Fabian**, and Fabianism is not bound by walls. We are egalitarian, Lettice. We are all on a first name basis.”

 

“Sorry,” Lettice apologises, lowering her head in admonishment. “Old habits die hard, Gladys.”

 

“Never mind, dear.” Lady Gladys reaches out and rubs Lettice’s shoulder comfortingly.

 

“What suspicions were you referring to, Auntie Gladys?” Phoebe asks, uttering the most words Lettice has heard her say since she and Lady Gladys arrived.

 

“The suspicion, Pheobe dear,” The older woman raises one of her diamond ring encrusted hands up to her niece’s face and tugs gently on her chin, teasingly. “And don’t call me Auntie. You know I don’t like it!” she scolds.

 

“No Gladys.” Pheobe replies, lowering her head.

 

“The suspicion is, Pheobe, that this flat is more of a mausoleum to Reginald and Marjorie’s memory, rather than a place for you to live in.”

 

“Where things were left by my parents makes sense to me, Gladys.”

 

“Well, be that as it may,” Lady Gladys says with a serious look clouding her jowly face. “It’s unhealthy to live in the shadows of two people who have been dead for many, many years.”

 

Lettice glances anxiously at Pheobe, who in Lettice’s experience has only shown a demonstrative concern for her parents’ memories beyond her interest in plants. The way her aunt speaks about Pheobe’s parents, she worries the poor, fey girl will start to cry. However, to her surprise, she remains stoic and silent, her gaze falling to the polished floorboards and worn Indian carpet beneath her.

 

Lady Gladys glances up with a critical gaze at the two photographic studio portraits in oval frames hanging to either side of the fireplace. “Don’t you agree, Lettice?”

 

“Me?” Lettice gulps, not wishing to come between the older woman, her niece and the ghosts of both their pasts which are so complexly entwined. “Well I…”

 

However, before Lettice has to try and stumble her way through a stuttered response, Lady Gladys gasps, “The cake! I forgot the cake! It’s still in the kitchenette. We can’t have tea and not have cake, can we?” She asks rhetorically. She quickly sweeps out of the room again with heavy, clumping footsteps.

 

“I only call her Auntie when Gladys is being especially frustrating.” Phoebe whispers, her mouth ends perking up in a tentative smile. “Which is quite often, really.”

 

“Pheobe!” Lettice finds herself surprised that Phoebe can muster that much pluck to rebel against her domineering aunt.

 

“She hates me calling her Auntie because she thinks it ages her, and there are few things Gladys hates more than being reminded that she is old.”

 

“Phoebe!” Lettice gasps again, startled by the girl’s sudden daring streak.

 

“That’s why, aside from Nettie and a very select few others, Gladys won’t entertain anyone her own age. The last thing she wants is to become irrelevant.”

 

“Oh, she isn’t that vain, surely, Pheobe.”

 

Phoebe is about to counter Lettice’s remark when Lady Gladys strides back into the drawing room.

 

“Here we are then, my dears! Since I only pay my London housekeeper to keep house, and Mrs. Brookhurst is very particular about sticking to the assigned specifics designated in her role, Harrod’s finest comes to the rescue!” She places a beautifully light and golden Victoria sponge oozing jam and cream onto the tea table next to the pink Art Nouveau floral teapot.

 

“Not bake it yourself, Gladys?” Phoebe remarks saucily, glancing cheekily at Lettice from below her fluttering blonde lashes.

 

“I may have lived here once, Phoebe, but I wouldn’t remember how to use that old range in there.” Lady Gladys defends. “Besides, you know my opinion on household chores.” She looks at Lettice and goes on with a bright smile. “It is my opinion, which is to the contrary of what is written in story books, that cooking and cleaning are a guaranteed way to quash beauty, charm and wit in women. It’s why you’ll never see any of my heroines scrubbing pots and pans or dusting mantlepieces. I’ve yet to see a maid who, after a few years of service, doesn’t look as drab as an old worn bedsheet washed and put through the mangle one too many times.” She sinks onto an armchair dramatically. “My main readership consists of middle-class housewives and I suspect more than a few domestics. None of them want to read about a girl who skivvies away just like them. They want escape from the dull everyday through glamour, excitement and romance.”

 

“My maid reads your novels, Gladys. She was positively thrilled when she saw your name on the invitation to the weekend we had at Gossington.”

 

“Well, I must sign a spare copy of one of my latest novels for her when the redecoration is done, Lettice. Would she like that?”

 

“Oh I’m sure she’d love that, Gladys. Thank you.” Lettice replies with a smile as she takes a seat in a remarkably comfortable straight backed chair. “Thinking of Edith, she is only a plain cook, so I too, find Harrod’s Food Hall and catering service to be of great service.”

 

Lady Gladys nods in appreciation. “Not poured the tea yet, Pheobe?” she remarks critically as she watches her niece drape herself like a falling leaf into the armchair opposite the tea table and withdraw a black pencil marking the page in a large botanical studies book on roses before lowering her head towards it to read.

 

“You may be adverse to housework, Auntie Gladys, but you’re far better at playing hostess than me.” Phoebe responds with a tired sigh without looking up from the page.

 

“Don’t call me that, Phoebe.” Lady Gladys snaps irritably. “Anyway, you’d be far more adept at hosting, if you’d only try and make an effort to play the host a little, dear.”

 

Phoebe pointedly ignores her aunt’s whining protestations and runs the point of her pencil underneath a sentence in the description of a red dogwood rose, demonstrating how ardent her studies are.

 

“Very well then.” Lady Gladys says with a huff of irritation. “Shall I be mother*** then?”

 

Without waiting for a reply, Lady Gladys takes up a cup and pours in some strong tea before handing the cup to Lettice. She indicates with a sweeping gesture to the milk jug and sugar bowl, implying that Lettice should help herself. After pouring tea for Phoebe and herself, she slices the Victoria sponge, her knife gliding through the layers of soft cake, jam and cream.

 

As Lettice carefully pushes a pile of books so as not to topple them, to clear some space on the table to the left of her elbow to place her plate, Lady Gladys opines, “I do wish you’d made a little room for us, Phoebe dear. All these piles of books are most difficult to navigate. You knew we were coming today.”

 

“In case you don’t remember, Gladys,” Phoebe mutters testily from her book. “There isn’t any more room.”

 

“A lesser person might think you didn’t want us here, dear.” Lady Gladys goes on, a slightly hurt and clearly annoyed tone to her voice as she speaks.

 

Phoebe sighs as she reluctantly withdraws her head from the book she is studying. “As you well know, I’ve been busy attending my garden design classes, and besides, this arrangement suits me very well. Why should I change it?”

 

“Humph!” snorts Lady Gladys, frowning. She turns her attentions away from her niece, who has already returned her nose to her book, and focuses instead on Lettice. “Now, thinking of arrangements: my dear Lettice, what do you think? It’s a rather poky little place, isn’t it, and shabby?” She sighs. “But, it was Reginald and Marjorie’s intention to bequeath it to Phoebe.”

 

“Well,” Lettice begins, feeling rather awkward when being faced with Lady Glady’s overt criticism of the flat that belonged to her brother and sister-in-law. “I think it’s quite compact and charming.”

 

“Compact!” Lady Gladys snorts derisively. “Charming! Come, come, Lettice. There is no need for your diplomacy here, my dear. Let’s be honest: it’s old and shabby, and most things need flinging out into the street, and replacing with something newer, fresher and more stylish.”

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be that dramatic, Gladys.” Lettice retorts.

 

“Nonsense, Lettice! The dustbin is where most of this old tatt should go. Out with the old, and in with the new. Eh?”

 

“Well, what do you think, Pheobe?”

 

When Pheobe’s head doesn’t rise from her book, and her wispy blonde curls continue to obscure her face, Lady Gladys goes on. “It’s no use trying to engage her my dear Lettice. Goodness knows I’ve tried.” She raises her voice and annunciates each syllable even more clearly than she was already doing with round vowels and clipped tones. “Pheobe could test the patience of a saint! She can hear us perfectly well, but as Phoebe seems to have abrogated her involvement in redecorating the flat, I see that like most things outside her life as a landscape gardener, I shall have to step in and fill her place and make the decisions, like usual.”

 

“I said I was happy with repainting the flat green. Isn’t that enough?” Phoebe grumbles, almost in a resigned whisper. “I’d rather the flat wasn’t disturbed whilst I’m studying for my latest round of horticulture exams.”

 

“Don’t worry, Phoebe dear.” Lady Gladys says with a dismissive wave of her bejewelled fingers. “We’ll organise it all to take place when there is a hiatus in your studies. Now,” She claps her hands and looks about her gleefully, like a small child with a shiny new toy, with sparkling eyes. “I think these can go for a start.” She starts bouncing up and down on her seat, the springs groaning in protest as dust motes emitted from the old armchair tumble and fly through the air around her. “Nasty old Edwardian things. Marjorie chose them of course, even though my dear Reginald wanted something a bit more up-to-date and fashionable. She always was frightfully dull and conservative, my sister-in-law.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure they are quite comfortable, Gladys.” Lettice begins. “With a little bit of respringing and some new fab…”

 

Lady Gladys stops Lettice speaking by holding up her hand in protest. “No, no! I won’t hear of these awful things being kept. They represent everything vulgar in Marjorie’s middling middle-class taste. No, fling them out!”

 

Lettice glances at Phoebe again, but the girl makes no move to interject.

 

“Didn’t I read about an eau de nil sofa and chairs in the Country Life article about your redecoration of the Channons house, Lettice?” Lady Gladys goes on unabated.

 

“Err… yes.” Lettice replies warily.

 

“Good. Then we’ll have an eau de nil suite here too. Quite fashionable and up-to-date! Excellent! Excellent!” Gladys toys excitedly with the violet faceted beads draped around her neck and down her front. “Now, of course being the bookish girl that she is, we’ll need something better than this rather haphazard arrangement,” She waves her hands about at the precariously balanced towers of books about the drawing room. “For her library.” She looks around. “There!” She points to a lovely old, stylised Art Nouveau china cabinet full of pretty Edwardian floral porcelain cups and saucers. “We’ll replace that monstrosity of the last decade with a new era bookcase. What do you say, Lettice?”

 

“Well perhaps we should…” Lettice begins as she turns once more to Pheobe’s halo of blonde curls.

 

“Don’t delegate decisions to Pheobe when I’m asking the question, Lettice!” Lady Gladys snaps sharply, causing Lettice to shudder involuntarily at the tone of her quip. “She’s clearly demonstrated that she isn’t interested, so I’m the one making decisions.”

 

“Of course, Gladys.” Lettice answers in quiet deference to the dominating woman. “A more modern bookshelf will be perfect there.”

 

“Splendid! Splendid!” Lady Gladys replies, rubbing her fingers together in glee. “I knew you’d see it my way, my dear. Everyone does,” She pauses. “Eventually.” She picks up her plate and scoops off a slice of cake with her fork and eats it. As Lady Gladys chews, her powdered and rouged cheeks expanding and contracting and her painted lips moving around rhythmically, Lettice can almost see the thoughts in her head as she glances around. Swallowing she eyes the two photographs to either side of the fireplace.

 

Following her gaze, Lettice quick says, “I have a great fondness for family photographs, Gladys. I think we should keep the photos of your brother and sister-in-law where they are in the new scheme. They are, after all,” She looks imploringly at Pheobe’s gently bobbing head, but she does not look up from the printed page. “Phoebe’s parents.”

 

“Yes of course, Lettice. Very good. Then there is that.” She points to the pretty Georgian desk in the corner of the room. “That desk was my brother’s, and is an old family heirloom. I’ll take that.”

 

Pheobe’s head suddenly shoots up from her books. “But that’s mine, Gladys. It was Father’s.”

 

Lady Gladys looks across at her niece with cool eyes. “I know it was dear.” She pauses for a moment and makes a show of sighing heavily for dramatic effect before continuing. “And I didn’t want to tell you this, but he really did want to leave it to me. I’ve just left it here out of ease. I’ll have it moved to the Belgravia when the redecoration starts.”

 

“But I thought you said that Mother and Father left me the flat and all its contents.” Phoebe exclaims, sitting upright in her seat, suddenly very alert and aware of everything going on around her, any appearance of nonchalance gone.

 

“Well, they did, dear.” Lady Gladys replies.

 

“Then it stays here, where it belongs.” Phoebe insists, a sudden anxiousness in her voice as she glances between Lettice and her aunt with startled eyes.

 

“But Reginald really did want me to have it, Phoebe dear.” Lady Gladys insists.

 

“But that’s the most poignant thing I have to remind me of Father.” Phoebe tries to protest.

 

“It was my father’s, and his father’s before him, and his before that, Pheobe. It should come to me, by rights. Don’t be selfish.”

 

“But… but I love it.” Tears begin to fill Pheobe’s pale blue eyes, making them sparkle and glitter. “It was… Father’s.”

 

“I see now, I should have removed it before you became attached to it,” Lady Gladys remarks, settling back comfortably into the armchair she seems so much to dislike and takes another scoop of cake, popping it into her mouth.

 

Lettice sees her moment to interject and pipes up, “I’m sure I could easily accommodate such a pretty and classical piece of furniture into my designs, Gladys. My style is Classical Revivalist, after all.”

 

“The desk is mine!” Lady Gladys commands in a sharp and raised voice that indicates she is not to be crossed on this matter, a few pieces of sponge not yet consumed flying from her mouth and through the air, landing in half chewed wet globs on the carpet. “This is not your concern, Lettice.” She forces a chuckle. “With all due respect of course.” She swivels her head back to her niece. “You heard Lettice. You will have your parents’ portraits retained as part of the redecoration. What could be more poignant than that?”

 

“But I…” Phoebe begins meekly.

 

“Don’t worry, Phoebe dear. Lettice will get you a much nicer, and bigger new desk as part of the design.” She sharply turns her head back to Lettice and eyes her with a hard stare. “Won’t you, Lettice?”

 

Lettice hears the undisguised warning in the older lady’s bristling tone of voice. “Yes, yes of course I will, Pheobe.” She answers brightly with a smile, but failing to obscure her awkwardness and regret as she utters the words which she does not want to air.

 

“That’s settled then.” Lady Gladys says with a smile, confirming the end to that particular part of the conversation about décor. “You’ll soon forget it, Pheobe dear. After all, until you came of age, you didn’t even know any of this existed.” She glances around the small drawing room of the flat. “And anyway, you’ll get it back when I die. Now, about curtains and carpets,” she adds, quickly changing the subject. “I think we’ll have new ones in more contemporary patterns, in shades of green, perhaps with a touch of blue or yellow, Lettice.”

 

“Yes, of course, Gladys.” Lettice answers in a deflated tone.

 

As Lady Gladys continues to talk unabated about her vision for the flat’s redecoration, Lettice listens in silence, occasionally nodding her polite ascent, even though the words just wash around her like the distant drone of London traffic. After meeting Lady Gladys at Gossington, Lettice had her suspicions that she had an underlying ulterior motive to her request for Lettice to redecorate the flat: to eradicate the presence of her deceased brother and sister-in-law from the place, and perhaps make them even more of a distant memory to Phoebe, who has spent more of her life growing up with Lady Gladys and her husband, than her parents. Although she could not pin it specifically to anything she had said or done, Lettice fancied that having raised Phoebe, Lady Gladys sees the memory of her dead brother and his wife as a threatening spectre in Pheobe’s and her own life. Now she knows her suspicions to be well founded, and clearly out in the open as Lady Gladys strips away almost every reminder of her brother and sister-in-law as she shares her wishes about the redecoration of the flat. She feels sick to her stomach as she glances over at Phoebe, who up until now has shown little emotion, as silent tears well in her eyes and spill down her pale cheeks.

 

*A pied-à-terre is a small flat, house, or room kept for occasional use.

 

**The Fabian Society is a British socialist organisation whose purpose is to advance the principles of social democracy and democratic socialism via gradualist and reformist effort in democracies, rather than by revolutionary overthrow. The Fabian Society was also historically related to radicalism, a left-wing liberal tradition.

 

***The meaning of the very British term “shall I be mother” is “shall I pour the tea?”

 

This rather ramshackle drawing room of the studious Phoebe Chambers may look real to you, but in fact it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my own childhood.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

Phoebe’s drawing room has a very studious look thanks to the many 1:12 size miniature books 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 one of the books he has made as it lies open on a footstool in the foreground, the page bookmarked by a pencil. It is a book of botanical prints by the renown botanical illustrator Pierre-Joseph Redouté (1759 – 1840). To give you an idea of the work that has gone into his volumes, the book contains fifty double sided pages of illustrations and text. 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. He also made the packets of seeds seen on the mantlepiece and the bureau in the background, which once again are copies of real packets of Webbs seeds. 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 two of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!

 

The floral Edwardian style armchairs are made by JaiYi miniatures, who are a high quality miniature furniture manufacturer, whilst the ornate Victorian tea table on which the tea set stands and the Art Nouveau china cabinet in the background were made by Bespaq miniatures, who are another high quality miniature furniture manufacturer. The two highly lacquered occasional tables in the mid and foreground I bought from a high street dolls’ house supplier when I was twelve. The dainty fringed footstool in the foreground with its tiny rose and leaf pattern ribbon trim was hand made and upholstered by a miniatures artisan in England. The armchair in the foreground with its serpentine arms I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The floral tea set on the tea table, I acquired through an online stockist on E-Bay, whilst the silver galleried tray comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The Victoria sponge (named after Queen Victoria) on the tea table and the slices of it on the plates on the occasional tables are made by Polly’s Pantry Miniatures in America.

 

The Georgian revival bureau to the left of the picture comes from Town Hall Miniatures. Made to very high standards, each drawer opens and closes. On the writing surface of the bureau sit miniature ink bottles and a quill pen made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The ink bottles are made from a tiny faceted crystal beads and feature sterling silver bottoms and lids. The pencils on the bureau, acquired from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers are 1:12 miniature as well, and are only one millimetre wide and two centimetres long. The French dome clock bookended by Ken Blythe volumes on top of the bureau is a 1:12 artisan miniature made by Hall’s Miniature Clocks, supplied through Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniatures in England.

 

The wonderful Carlton Ware Rouge Royale jardiniere (featuring real asparagus fern fronds from my own garden) comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

Phoebe’s photos of her student friends on the mantlepiece are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The photos of Phoebe’s parents in the gilded round frames come from Melody Jane’s Doll’s House Suppliers in the United Kingdom. The floral picture in the round frame came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The china tea set in the cabinet in the background I sourced through a miniatures supplier in Australia, whilst the silver pieces came from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland.

 

The oriental rug is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug and has been machine woven.

offer up.

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Today we are a short distance from Cavendish Mews, in the nearby upper-class suburb of Belgravia where Lettice is paying an unexpected call on Lady Gladys Caxton at her Regency terrace in Eaton Square*. Through her social connections, Lettice’s Aunt Egg contrived an invitation for Lettice to an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by Sir John and Lady Caxton, who are very well known amongst the smarter bohemian set of London society for their weekend parties at their Scottish country estate, Gossington, and enjoyable literary evenings in their Belgravia townhouse. Lady Gladys is a successful authoress in her own right and writes under the nom de plume of Madeline St John. Over the course of the weekend, Lettice was coerced into accepting Lady Glady’s request that she redecorate Phoebe’s small Bloomsbury pied-à-terre** in Ridgmount Gardens. Phoebe, upon coming of age inherited the flat, which had belonged to her parents, Reginald and Marjorie Chambers, who died out in India when Phoebe was still a little girl. The flat was held in trust by Lady Gladys until her ward came of age. When Phoebe decided to pursue a career in garden design and was accepted by a school in London closely associated with the Royal Society, she started living part time in Ridgmount Gardens. Lady Gladys felt that the pied-à-terre was too old fashioned and outdated in its appointment for a young girl like Phoebe. When Lady Gladys arranged for Lettice to inspect the flat, Lettice quickly became aware of Lady Gladys’ ulterior motives as she overrode the rather mousy Pheobe and instructed Lettice to redecorate everything to her own instructions and taste, whist eradicating any traces of Pheobe’s parents. Reluctantly, Lettice commenced on the commission which is nearing its completion. However earlier today Pheobe came to visit the flat whilst Lettice was there, and with a little coercion, Pheobe shared what she really felt about the redecoration of her parent’s pied-à-terre. Desperately wanting to express herself independently, Pheobe hoped living at the flat she would finally be able to get out from underneath the domineering influence of her aunt. Yet now the flat is simply another extension of Lady Glady’s wishes, and the elements of her parents that Pheobe adored have been appropriated by Lady Gladys. Determined to undo the wrong she has done by Pheobe by agreeing to all of Lady Glady’s wishes, in a moment of energizing anger, Lettice has decided to confront Lady Gladys, so now she is at Eaton Square.

 

“I’m sorry Miss Chetwynd, but if you haven’t made an appointment, I’m afraid that Lady Gladys cannot see you.” explains Miss Goodwin, Lady Gladys’ rather harried personal secretary, as she rustles papers, rearranging them distractedly into different piles on her small desk as she speaks. “She is simply too busy!”

 

“But Miss Goodwin…” Lettice begins.

 

“No, Miss Chetwynd!” the secretary replies more firmly. “Lady Gladys had a book reading in Charing Cross at two, and then there are the details of her American book tour to iron out.”

 

“You must be able to fit me in, Miss Goodwyn!” Lettice implores desperately. “I simply must see her about Phoebe’s pied-à-terre.”

 

“Is there something wrong with Miss Chambers’ pied-à-terre, Miss Chetwynd?”

 

“No… well, yes… well… it’s nearly ready, but it’s all wrong.” Lettice replies, flustered as she falls under the sharp, owl-like gaze of the middle-aged spinster secretary, made all the more prominent by her gold rimmed pince-nez****. “It’s difficult to explain.” she finally concludes in a rather deflated fashion.

 

Miss Goodwin arches her expertly plucked and shaped eyebrows over her eyes sceptically. “Evidently.” she remarks in a dismissive fashion. Reluctantly picking up her appointment book for Lady Gladys, she flips through the lined pages filled with her neatly written copperplate. “Let’s see.” she mutters, exhaling through her nostrils in frustration as she does. “I can fit you in next Tuesday at three o’clock if you like.” She picks up her fountain pen in readiness to record Lettice’s name.

 

“Next Tuesday?” Lettice retorts in horror. “But I can’t wait until next Tuesday, Miss Goodwin.”

 

“Oh?” Miss Goodwin queries. “But I thought you said the flat redecoration was nearly complete, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

“Well it is, Miss Goodwin.”

 

“Then, I’m sure this small matter,” the secretary emphasises the last two words as she speaks. “Can wait until then.”

 

Lettice gulps for air in an exasperated fashion. “But… I…”

 

“No, Miss Chetwynd!” Miss Goodwin says again, firmly pressing the palms of both her hands into the piles of paper before her defiantly.

 

“What’s all this sound of discourse then?” comes a male voice, booming through the charged air of Miss Goodwin’s small office on the ground floor of the Eaton Square terrace.

 

“Oh! Sir John!” the secretary exclaims, as Lady Glady’s husband, a tall and white haired gentleman in a smart morning suit pops his head around the door, his gentle face moulded into a look of concern. “Please forgive us. I was just explaining to Miss Chetwynd, that Lady Gladys cannot possibly see her now.”

 

“Oh enough of the ‘sir’ and ‘lady’, Goody,” Sir John says with a smile as he sees Lettice standing in front of the secretary’s desk, addressing Lady Glady’s secretary by the pet name given her by Sir John and Lady Gladys. “Lettice knows us intimately enough to know we don’t go by the titles bestowed upon us.” His smile broadens. “Lettice, what an unexpected pleasure.” He steps into the room and places his large hands firmly upon her shoulders. “I was just on my way out to Whites***** when I heard the commotion. Whatever is the matter, my dear?”

 

“Si… John,” Lettice begins, her eyes looking imploringly at Sir John as he towers over her. “It’s imperative I see Gladys right away. It’s about Pheobe and the flat.”

 

“That does sound serious.” he remarks, his face clouding over.

 

“Oh it is, and that’s why I must see Gladys now.” She turns her head slightly and glares at Miss Goodwin, whose own face is sternly defiant in her reluctance to admit Lettice.

 

“Well,” Sir John says with a chuckle. “I’ve quite literally just left her in her upstairs study, autographing some of her novels. She isn’t due at Foyles****** until two o’clock, is she, Goody?” Sir John doesn’t wait for her reply as he sweeps an arm around Lettice’s shoulder comfortingly and guides her away from the secretary and towards the door. “So come along.”

 

Leaving the affronted Miss Goodwin behind, Sir John leads Lettice up the grand main staircase of the terrace, with its thick stair carpet affixed with brass stair rods******* and stylish gilt detailed black metal balustrade.

 

“Are these all Caxtons?” Lettice asks as she gazes up the generous Regency proportioned stairwell at the portraits in oils hanging in gilded frames along the walls.

 

“Hhhmm… a few.” Sir John mutters. “Like him.” He points to a rather serious looking gentleman in middle-class mid Victorian sombre black. “But most of them I bought when I bought the house. It seemed a shame for them to be parted, especially as their former bankrupted owner had no use for them any more. He needed the money, and I… well…” He chuckles a little awkwardly.

 

“You needed the lineage.” Lettice completes his sentence.

 

“How perceptive you are, Lettice.” Sir John says without missing a beat as they walk. “It’s what comes with the pretentions of a social climbing first wife, and my acquired title*******. I’m not as fortunate as you to have such a distinguished lineage, having been born into a wool merchant family in Hallifax.”

 

Lettice doesn’t reply, and merely smiles and nods her acknowledgement.

 

“Now, what’s all this about Pheobe’s flat then, Lettice? I hope you aren’t having any problems with the wages for the tradesmen traipsing in and out of Ridgmount Gardens. I’ve been writing so many cheques for them lately that I can barely keep up.”

 

“Oh, it has nothing to do with their wages, John.”

 

“Then what? You sounded most insistent back there with Miss Goodwin, and whilst I don’t claim to know you well, you don’t strike me as a girl who gives in to having histrionic fits.”

 

Lettice smiles and chuckles softly as Sir John’s remark reminds her of her friend, ‘Moaning’ Minnie Palmerston, wife of a London banker, who is known for her histrionics.

 

The pair reach the landing between the ground and first floor, where a large marble bust of a gentleman in a periwig******** stares out with blind eyes and a frozen, magnanimous smile at the treetops of the garden square outside through a large twelve pane sash window. Lettice stops, causing Sir John to do the same.

 

“May I be frank, Si… err, John?” Lettice asks, gazing up at the man’s wrinkled face.

 

“Please, Lettice.” he agrees.

 

“Well, I’ve had concerns about this commission, ever since I first visited Ridgmount Gardens.”

 

“Concerns?” Sir John’s face crumples. “What concerns, Lettice?”

 

“When Gladys took me there, well no, even before that, I’ve been worried about Glady’s motivations for wanting the flat decorated.”

 

“What motivations?”

 

“It struck me, John, as she discussed the redecoration for the flat with me, that it is more to Gladys’ taste than Pheobe’s.”

 

“Is that all?” Sir John chuckles and sighs with relief. “You’ve met Pheobe. She’s a sweet child, and I love her as one of my own, but she isn’t overly forthcoming, is she?”

 

“But it’s more than that. I’ve observed that whenever Pheobe expresses an opinion that contradicts Gladys, that Gladys wears her down to her down, and brings her around to her own way of thinking.”

 

“Ahh..” Sir John says a little awkwardly. “Well, you may lay the blame for that solely at my feet, dear Lettice. I’m afraid that when I met Gladys, I was so taken by her pluck and spirit that I indulged her. I saw so much potential in her: potential that was stymied due to her lack of wealth. We’ve been married for a good many years now, and I’m afraid that she is rather used to getting her own way.”

 

“Well, I can work with that, John. Gladys isn’t without panache and certainly has a sense of style.”

 

“Then I don’t see the problem, my dear.” He looks quizzically at her. “You said you wanted to be frank. Speak plainly.”

 

Lettice sighs and her shoulders slump. “You’ll think it preposterous, and I am sorry to say this, but I think that Gladys is eradicating the memory of Pheobe’s parents.”

 

Sir John laughs. “You’re right, I do find that idea preposterous, my dear, but only because Pheobe has very little memories of her parents there to erase. She only ever lived the first year of her life in Ridgmount Gardens before Reginald took her and Marjorie back to India, and when he and Marjorie died out there, Pheobe was only five, and Gladys and I were married by that time, so we took Pheobe back to Gossington and she grew up there. She has no associations with Ridgmount Gardens, other than she has always known that her father bequeathed it to her and that she would take possession of it when she came of age.”

 

“John, Pheobe came to the flat today to fetch some of the books she needed that had been packed up when she decamped Ridgmount Gardens so the redecoration could commence, and she expressed the opinion which she also did with Gladys that she wanted to keep her father’s writing desk and her mother’s crockery. Pheobe says that she feels the essence of her parents in those pieces more than in the photographs she has of them.”

 

Sir John smiles indulgently. “That sounds like Pheobe. She’s always been fey and other world like, imagining that she can see inside people to their inner essence, ever since she was that forlorn child we brought back from Bombay.” He shakes his head dismissively.

 

“Yet Gladys has taken the bureau in spite of Phoebe’s wishes, claiming that her brother intended for her to have it, and she gave me the china to dispose of. Pheobe also told me that Gladys has said in front of her that her brother should never have married Phoebe’s mother. It seems to me that she is intentionally trying to remove any reminders of her brother and his wife.”

 

“It is true that there was never any love lost between Gladys and her sister-in-law. I’m not quite sure why, other that the fact she claimed that Marjorie stymied Reginald’s career in some way. I couldn’t see that myself. He was on his way to being a magistrate from what I could see. She was always evasive, never wanting to rake over the coals. I only ever met Reginald and Marjorie a few times around Gladys’ and my wedding day, and even then, it was only a fleeting visit, so I cannot say that I was critical of their marriage the way Gladys was. I did chide Gladys for speaking out of turn about Marjorie in front of Pheobe, but,” He looks guiltily at Lettice. “You know what Gladys is like. She’s always spoken her mind, and for all the fault in her that it may be, it is one of the reasons I love her.”

 

“But to intentionally remove any reminders of Mr. and Mrs. Chambers, John?”

 

“Oh I’m sure it isn’t intentional, Lettice.” Sir John assures her. “It’s good you’ve come when you have. You can speak to Gladys about this misunderstanding.”

 

“Misunderstanding?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure that’s all that it is. Whatever my wife may or may not be, she has tried all her life to do the best my Pheobe, and I’m sure that if Phoebe is as impassioned as you say she is about her father’s desk and her mother’s china, she probably just needs someone else to speak for her about it to Gladys.” He wraps his arm around Lettice assuring and gives her forearm a hearty rub. “And you’ll be capital about that. Now, come along.”

 

The pair take the final flight of stairs to the first floor in thoughtful silence. Sir John leads Lettice up to a doorway, knocks and opens it, walking in without waiting for a reply. “Look who I found downstairs, having the fiercest argument with your goodly protectress, Gladys.”

 

Lettice follows Sir John into a beautiful high ceilinged first-floor room flooded with light from two large and tall Regency windows. Like Gossington, the Scottish Baronial style English Art and Crafts castle near the hamlet of Kershopefoot in Cumberland belonging to Sir John and Lady Gladys, the walls are decorated with William Morris********* patterned wallpaper, and the room is furnished with Edwardian and Art Nouveau furnishings. However, unlike Gossington’s public rooms, which are crammed full of Edwardian clutter, the scheme in this room is far lighter, with the delicate and softer ‘Willow Bough’ pattern in the paper, and rather than being upholstered in Morris pattern as well, the sofas and chairs situated about the room are covered in a stripped back creamy Regency stripe, perhaps in deference to the terrace’s origins. Even the clutter here is less, with fewer vases and trinkets covering the surfaces of tables. In fact, the mantle is the most cluttered, and even then it is mostly with invitations and correspondence addressed to Lady Gladys’ non de plume of Madeline St John. And there, at a small black japanned regency desk sits Lady Gladys in her favoured pastel shades and pearls.

 

“Lettice!” she gasps, looking up from signing a copy of her latest Madeline St John romance novel, ‘Miranda’. “What an unexpected pleasure.” She picks herself up out of her high backed black japanned and gilt French Second Empire chair and opens her arms to Lettice, exposing the pretty knitted patterns woven through her light, pale pink cardigan that she has chosen to wear over a pink floral print cotton frock. As Lettice crosses the room, gracefully moving through the obstacle course of low occasional tables and comfortable salon and armchairs, Lady Gladys’ face clouds. “Or is it? Did… did we have an appointment today, my dear?”

 

“No, no, Gladys.” Lettice assures her as she reaches Lady Gladys and allows herself to enveloped in her lavender scented embrace. “It’s an unannounced visit.”

 

“Well then, I do hope that Goody wasn’t too cantankerous with you. I adore her, and she’s an excellent and superbly organised secretary, but Goody doesn’t particularly like surprise visits and will do almost anything to stick rigidly to her arrangement of my schedules.”

 

“I caught Goody in full flight, and rescued poor Lettice from her recalcitrant clutches.” Sir John remarks.

 

“Always the knight in shining armour, John. Bravo!” Lady Gladys applauds her husband.

 

“Well, I’m off then.” Sir John says.

 

“Oh, won’t you stay, John?” Lettice says, her voice cracking. She had been hoping he might stick to form as her rescuer and stay to help influence her pleas with Lady Gladys favourably.

 

“Oh no, Lettice my dear!” He starts to back away towards the door. “Whites waits for no man, and nor does my contract bridge partner. I’ve tarried long enough. Besides,” he adds. “This is between you two ladies.” And with that, he turns on his heel and retreats out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

 

“Say hullo to Fillmore for me, and give him my love, John.” Gladys calls after his retreating footsteps.

 

The room falls into a soft silence broken only by the twitter of birds in the trees outside, the purring of a passing motorcar on the road and the gentle tick of a gilt clock on a bombe chest between the two windows.

 

“Well, I have a little bit of time before I must away to Foyles.” Lady Gladys says, pulling back the sleeve of her cardigan and glancing at her delicate gold and diamond studded wristwatch. “Oh! Which reminds me, I must, must, must, sign copies of a couple of my novels for your maid. Edith, isn’t it?”

 

“Quite so, Gladys.”

 

“Good! You can take her a copy of ‘Miranda’ today.” Lady Gladys takes a seat again as she takes up a copy of the book and inscribes it with a flourish of her pen. “To Edith, with my best wishes, Madeline St John.” she utters as she writes. Finishing the inscription, she closes the cover of the book with a thwack. “I almost need a forger on my retinue of office staff to sign all the requested copies of my books.” She hands the book to Lettice. “Please, sit.” She indicates to a tall wingback armchair by the fireplace with an open gesture. As Lettice sits, she spins in her own seat, leaning heavily against the chair’s left ornately spindled arm. “Now, what can I do for you, Lettice?”

 

Lettice takes a deep breath. “Well, Gladys, I wanted to talk to you about the flat.”

 

“Oh yes!” Gladys crows, clapping her hands, the diamonds and other precious stones of her rings winking in the light. “My spies tell me that it has been quite the hive of activity at Ridgmount Gardens!”

 

“Your spies?”

 

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, Lettice.” Lady Gladys laughs. “Bloomsbury is such an artistic area, full of writers, many of whom I know.” She smiles slyly. “Writers are notorious for being observant of their surroundings. It doesn’t take long for the jungle drums to start beating, my dear.”

 

“Oh.” Lettice remarks.

 

“Now, what is it about the flat you want to talk about?” Yet even as she asks, she then adds, “Oh, the chintz curtains I wanted did arrive, didn’t they, Lettice?”

 

Lettice shudders at the thought of them. “Yes, Gladys, and they are hanging in the drawing room, just as you’d requested.”

 

“Excellent!”

 

“But it’s your requests,” Lettice gulps awkwardly. “Or rather… your demands… that I’ve come to speak to you about.”

 

“Demands?” A defensive edge makes its way into her well enunciated words as Lady Gladys queries Lettice’s remark.

 

“Commands.” Lettice blunders.

 

“Commands!” Lady Glady’s eyes flicker slightly.

 

“There’s a problem with your requests, Gladys.” Lettice tries to venture, her voice faltering and sounding weak as the words catch in her throat.

 

“A problem with my requests, Lettice?” Lady Gladys lowers her left arm so it dangles down by her side, whilst raising her right to her chin in a ponderous pose as she considers her visitor, perching on the edge of her seat awkwardly, as if seeing her for the first time. “What could possibly be wrong with any of the requests I have made? Have I made demands that are unreasonable? Is there something wrong with the shade of green of the walls, the choice of soft furnishings,” She pauses. “The chintz curtains?”

 

“Well,” Lettice tries to momentarily make light of the moment. “Chintz isn’t something I’d choose for myself, Gladys.”

 

“I chose those for Phoebe specifically,” Lady Gladys says sharply, the volume of her voice rising slightly as she does.. “Because I thought she might appreciate the connection between the nature she so loves and her living space.”

 

“And she does, Gladys.” Lettice defends. “She even remarked on them when she was at Ridgmount Gardens today.”

 

“Oh, so that’s where she went.”

 

“She came to fetch some books she left behind at the flat that she needs for her studies.”

 

“Or so Pheobe claims.” Lady Gladys retorts.

 

“And whilst we were there, we had a conversation,” Lettice tries to steal her voice as she adds, “An honest conversation.”

 

Lady Gladys does not reply immediately, but considers Lettice’s statement before asking, “And what was it in that honest conversation that now has you at my door, Lettice?”

 

Lettice notices, as she feels sure she is meant to, that the endearments of ‘my dear’, usually attached to her name, have suddenly vanished.

 

Well, you’ll forgive me, Gladys, but when Pheobe and I were speaking, she shared with me her concerns that the flat is perhaps not being redecorated,” Lettice quickly, yet carefully considers each word as she speaks it, conscious of the precarious situation she finds herself in. She doesn’t want to invoke Lady Gladys’ ire against phoebe, nor against herself. “In the… the style which she would prefer.”

 

“The style she would prefer?” Gladys suddenly leans back in her seat and starts laughing, but the laugh is devoid of joy. “Lettice, Pheobe has no opinion when it comes to style, the little mouse.” She stares out of the window into the sunshine bathing the trees of the gated garden square across the road. “Actually, she has very little opinion about anything, quite frankly.”

 

“Well, there I would beg to disagree with you, Gladys.” Lettice retorts, suddenly filled with a necessity to defend Phoebe.

 

“Do you indeed?”

 

“I do.” Lettice affirms, her voice growing stronger. “You see, you have a very… a very strong personality.”

 

“Forthright is what John would call my personality.”

 

“Strong, forthright: either description amounts to much the same. I’ve observed that on the rare occasions Phoebe disagrees with your opinion, you quickly snuff out any objection.”

 

“Such as?” Lady Gladys asks warily.

 

“Such as when I first visited Ridgmount Gardens with you, after we had been to your book launch at Selfridges, when Phoebe protested that she wanted to keep her father’s bureau desk, you wouldn’t let her.”

 

“Lettice,” Lady Gladys sighs heavily. “As I mentioned to you both then, and have repeated several times when the subject of my brother’s desk has been raised by Phoebe subsequently with me, Reginald wanted me to have it. He simply died before he had a chance to put his affairs in order.”

 

“And her mother’s china?”

 

“Good god, Lettice!” Lady Gladys exclaims. “Why on earth should Phoebe want those old hat Style Liberty********** cups, saucers and plates, when she can have something of far superior quality and are more up-to-date in style.”

 

“You seem to be a proponent of Style Liberty, Gladys.” Lettice indicates with waving gestures about the room.

 

“And as I said to you at Gossington, the style may have been fashionable when I was younger, but it died when all our young men did, during the war. It’s past: dead! Anyway,” she sulks. “They are cheap, nasty pieces of pottery, and many of them are chipped, even if Marjorie kept them for best. She never did have good taste.”

 

“Whether they are cheap or chipped, Gladys, Phoebe feels that her flat is missing her parent’s essence.” When Lady Gladys scoffs scornfully, Lettice continues, “She specifically mentioned the chips in her mother’s plates and teacups and the grooves and ink stains in her father’s bureau.”

 

“Phoebe always was an odd child,” Lady Gladys ruminates. “Going on about the essence of a person. She has photos to look at if she wants to get an essence of her long dead parents. Lettice, John and I have been far more of parents to her than Reginald and Marjorie.”

 

“I’m not disputing that, Gladys. All I am stating is what Phoebe told me. You have your own desk,” Lettice points to the delicate desk before which Lady Gladys sits. “Why not give Phoebe what she wants? Is it so hard?”

 

“I’ve been giving that child all that she needs and wants for years: ever since I brought her back from India as a five year old. I’ve given her everything a real mother would.”

 

“Then why not give her the bureau. Please, Gladys.”

 

“I repeat!” Lady Gladys snaps. “Reginald wanted me to have his bureau! It’s mine!”

 

Lady Gladys suddenly sits upright in her seat and slams her palms into its arm rests, huffing heavily with frustration. “Well Lettice, I have enjoyed our impromptu little tête-à-tête, but I’m afraid I really must go. I don’t wish to keep the Messrs Foyle waiting. They have been very good to me, arranging this reading at their bookshop.”

 

“But…” Lettice begins.

 

Lady Gladys picks up a silver bell from the surface of her desk and rings it, the metal bell emitting a high pitched ring. “Whom, may I ask is paying the bills for all the tradespeople you have engaged on your little project of redecorating Ridgmount Gardens?”

 

“Sir John.”

 

“Then let me remind you that Sir John is acting on my behalf, paying those bills. When you agreed to accept my commission, we entered into a contract: a contract that you and I both signed before our lawyers.”

 

“Yes, at your insistence.”

 

“Exactly, because I suspected a situation somewhat sticky like this might arise. I didn’t have to choose you to redecorate Phoebe’s flat. I could have chosen any number of my friends who dabble in interior design. Indeed Syrie Maugham*********** felt quite slighted that I chose you over her, with all her successes. I wanted to give you the opportunity to increase your profile as a society interior designer , because my word goes a long way.” “Lettice, I might be many things, but I’m not a woman without tact, but as our time today is up, you must force me to be blunt.” She begins to shuffle the remaining copies of her novels on her desk irritably. “You agree that you signed a contract with me, so as your client I request… no I demand,” She uses Lettice’s choice of words back at her. “That you do everything I want: everything, down to the last little detail, or I shall consider the contract null and void, and therefore I shall be under no obligation to arrange for John to pay any outstanding bills, and further to that, if you do anything forcing me to terminate our contract, I shall make sure that every drawing room is talking about your untrustworthiness, Lettice. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Just at that moment, Miss Goodwin bustles into the room. “You rang, Gladys?”

 

“Yes Goody.” Gladys says with a painted smile. “My delightful impromptu meeting with Miss Chetwynd is over. Would you kindly show her out. I must get ready for my reading at Foyles.”

 

“Yes Gladys.” She smiles at Lettice. “Right this way, Miss Chetwynd.”

 

As Miss Goodwin ushers Lettice towards the door, Gladys adds from her seat at her desk, “Thank you so much for visiting me today, my dear Lettice. I think it has helped us both better understand our positions. I’m sure you agree.”

 

“This way, Miss Chetwynd.” Miss Goodwin says again as she guides the shocked and silent Lettice out of the door, closing it quietly behind her.

 

*Eaton Square is a rectangular residential garden square in London's Belgravia district. It is the largest square in London. It is one of the three squares built by the landowning Grosvenor family when they developed the main part of Belgravia in the Nineteenth Century that are named after places in Cheshire — in this case Eaton Hall, the Grosvenor country house. It is larger but less grand than the central feature of the district, Belgrave Square, and both larger and grander than Chester Square. The first block was laid out by Thomas Cubitt from 1827. In 2016 it was named as the "Most Expensive Place to Buy Property in Britain", with a full terraced house costing on average seventeen million pounds — many of such town houses have been converted, within the same, protected structures, into upmarket apartments.

 

**A pied-à-terre is a small flat, house, or room kept for occasional use.

 

***Charing Cross is a junction in Westminster, London, England, where six routes meet. Since the early 19th century, Charing Cross has been the notional "centre of London" and became the point from which distances from London are measured. It was also famous in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries as being the centre for bookselling in London.

 

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

 

*****White's is a gentlemen's club in St James's, London. Founded in 1693 as a hot chocolate shop in Mayfair, it is the oldest gentleman's club in London. Notable current members include Charles III and the Prince of Wales and former British prime minister David Cameron, whose father Ian Cameron was the club's chairman, was a member for fifteen years but resigned in 2008, over the club's declining to admit women. The club continues to maintain its tradition as a club for gentlemen only, although one of its best known chefs from the early 1900s was Rosa Lewis, a model for the central character in the BBC television series “The Duchess of Duke Street”.

 

******W & G Foyle Ltd. (usually called simply Foyles) is a bookseller with a chain of seven stores in England. It is best known for its flagship store in Charing Cross Road, London. Foyles was once listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the world's largest bookshop in terms of shelf length, at 30 miles (48 km), and of number of titles on display. Brothers William and Gilbert Foyle founded the business in 1903. After failing entrance exams for the civil service, the brothers offered their redundant textbooks for sale and were inundated by offers. This inspired them to launch a second-hand book business from home. Flushed with success, they opened a small shop on Station Parade in Queen's Road, Peckham, where they painted "With all Faith" in gilt letters above the door. The brothers opened their first West End shop in 1904, at 16 Cecil Court. A year later they hired their first member of staff, who promptly disappeared with the weekly takings. By 1906, their shop was at 135 Charing Cross Road and they were described as London's largest educational booksellers. By 1910, Foyles had added four suburban branches: at Harringay, Shepherd's Bush, Kilburn and Brixton. Not long afterwards, the brothers moved their central London store to 119 Charing Cross Road, the Foyles Building, where it remained until 2014. Foyles was famed in the past for its anachronistic, eccentric and sometimes infuriating business practices (ones I have been personally involved in), so much so that it became a tourist attraction. It has since modernised, and has opened several branches and an online store.

 

*******A stair rod, also commonly referred to as a carpet rod, is an ornamental decorative hardware item used to hold carpeting in place on steps.

 

********Titles into the British Peerage weren't for sale as such, but a social climbing gentleman could certainly buy his way into the nobility if he were wealthy and well connected enough, and used the social and political power of wealth wisely. In the pre-war (Great War) years, when money went a great deal further than it did before the introduction of heavy income taxes and death duties, if you had money, it was not hugely difficult to effectively buy yourself a seat in parliament or a commission in the military (both of which were functionally up for sale), which could often result in a peerage being granted if you stayed around long enough in the right circles, or were favoured by the right people. The Tories of the late Eighteenth Century were infamous for packing the House of Lords with supporters in order to retain a majority (most aristocratic families had favoured the Whigs earlier in the Georgian era). If a man were shrewd enough to curry favour with a Tory like Lord North or Pitt the Younger, then he could probably get a title quite easily, since the Tory base of support was within the untitled gentry, and they needed to maintain control of the Lords. Currying favour with the monarch worked equally well, and King Edward VII was famous for minting fresh peers regularly, filling his levees with wealthy industrialists, manufacturers and men of business whom he found more engaging than the idle peers of long standing aristocratic titles.

 

********A periwig a highly styled wig worn formerly as a fashionable headdress by both women and men in the Eighteenth Century and retained by judges and barristers as part of their professional dress to this day.

 

*********William Morris (24th of March 1834 – 3rd of October 1896) was a British textile designer, poet, artist, writer, and socialist activist associated with the British Arts and Crafts movement. He was a major contributor to the revival of traditional British textile arts and methods of production. His literary contributions helped to establish the modern fantasy genre, while he helped win acceptance of socialism in fin de siècle Great Britain. In 1861, Morris founded the Morris, Marshall, Faulkner & Co. decorative arts firm with Burne-Jones, Rossetti, Webb, and others, which became highly fashionable and much in demand. The firm profoundly influenced interior decoration throughout the Victorian period, with Morris designing tapestries, wallpaper, fabrics, furniture, and stained glass windows. In 1875, he assumed total control of the company, which was renamed Morris & Co.

 

**********The artistic movement we know of today internationally as Art Nouveau, was more commonly known as the “Arts and Crafts Movement” or “Style Liberty” in the United Kingdom during the years before and after the Great War, driven by the Glasgow School of Arts, where a great many proponents of the style came from, and by the luxury London shop Liberty on Regent Street which sold a great deal of William Morris’ designs to the general public.

 

***********Gwendoline Maud Syrie Maugham was a leading British interior decorator of the 1920s and 1930s who popularised rooms decorated entirely in white. In the 1910s, Maugham began her interior design career as an apprentice under Ernest Thornton-Smith for a London decorating firm, learning there about the intricacies of furniture restoration, trompe-l'œil, curtain design, and the mechanics of traditional upholstery. In 1922, two years before this story is set, at the age of 42, Maugham borrowed £400.00 and opened her own interior decorating business at 85 Baker Street, London. As the shop flourished, Maugham began decorating, taking on projects in Palm Beach and California. By 1930, she had shops in London, Chicago, and New York. Maugham is best-remembered for the all-white music room at her house at 213 King's Road in London. For the grand unveiling of her all-white room, Maugham went to the extreme of dipping her white canvas draperies in cement. The room was filled with massive white floral arrangements and the overall effect was stunning. Maugham charged high prices and could be very dictatorial with her clients and employees. She once told a hesitant client, "If you don't have ten thousand dollars to spend, I don't want to waste my time."

 

This English Arts and Crafts upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

Lady Glady’s pretty black japanned desk has been made by the high-end miniature furniture manufacturer Bespaq, and it has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs. Her Louis XIV white Regency stripe upholstered chair and its pair which can just be seen behind the desk to the left of the fireplace have been made by the high-end miniature furniture manufacturer, J.B.M. They too have been hand painted and decorated, even along the tops of the arms. On the desk are some 1:12 artisan miniature ink bottles, a silver pen and a blotter all made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The ink bottles are made from tiny faceted crystal beads and have sterling silver bottoms and lids. The pen is a twist of silver with a tiny seed pearl inserted into the end of it The ink blotter is sterling silver too and has a blotter made of real black felt, cut meticulously to size to fit snugly inside the frame. The silver double frame on the top of the desk comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniature Collectables. The silver tray holding letters on the top left of the desk is sterling silver as well and was acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

Also on the desk are some copies of Lady Gladys’ books. They are all examples of 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. In this case, this selection of romance novels are not designed to be opened. What might amaze you in spite of this fact 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 them all miniature artisan pieces. The books in the Art Nouveau fretwork cabinet in the background are all made by Ken Blythe as well. 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 correspondence on the fireplace mantle and on the silver tray on Lady Gladys’ desk were made meticulously by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. They are 1:12 miniature versions of real documents.

 

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!

 

The two Art Nouveau style vases at either end of the mantlepiece and the squat one in the middle half hidden by correspondence came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The irises in the vase on the left-hand side of the mantle are all made of polymer clay that is moulded on wires to allow them to be shaped at will and put into individually formed floral arrangements. Very realistic looking, they are made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany.

 

The two gilt edged paintings hanging to either side of the fireplace were made by Marie Makes Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The painting in the white painted wooden frame hanging above the mantlepiece comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop as does the finely moulded plaster fireplace itself and its metal grate.

 

The enclosed bookcase full of Ken Blythe’s miniature books in the background to the left of the photo with its glass doors and Art Nouveau fretwork was made by Bespaq Miniatures, as were the white Regency stripe upholstered wingback armchair in front of the fireplace and sofa just visible to the left of the photograph. The hand embroidered footstool in front of the armchair comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop.

 

The wallpaper used to decorate Lady Gladys’ walls is William Morris’ ‘Willow Bough’ pattern.

 

The Persian rug on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.

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Atlantic University Sports

  

September 4, 2026, Sackville New Brunswick exhibition game

  

final : Acadia Axemen 13 vs Mount Allison Mounties 30

  

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Aug 29, 2026 At home - 26-6 exhibition victory over Mount Allison,.

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Some relevant School news clippings,

  

Feb 24, 2022 - Wolfville, N.S. Acadia University. The Acadia University Professors strike enters 4th week ?

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/51901774104

 

Sept 30th 2022 - Artificial Intelligence has struck the good ole hockey game ? Acadia Axeman hockey at Andrew H. McCain Arena goes paperless ? The Official paper program no longer being handed out to the paying customer ? www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/52395343477

 

January 22, 2024 - Canada sets two-year cap on foreign students. The cap will result in a decrease of 35% in approved study permits.

www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-68059996

 

Dec 14,2021 - Don't all members matter ? Discrimination shown towards non-school community members at Acadia Athletics during Covi. A posted official notice at Acadia reads : "The Acadia Athletics complex will be closed to community drop-ins, community memberships, and external rentals until further notice , However,, Acadia staff, faculty and students, with proof of double vaccination, will continue to access the fitness center, pool and the arena for skating. "

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/51748079885

 

International student fallout hits bottom line.. Atlantic universities depend on international students for about 30 per cent of their enrollment.

universityaffairs.ca/news/international-student-fallout-h...

 

May 11th 2023 - A new race based policy has been announced at Acadia where almost half of seats for a new Course will be set aside and reserved only for members of certain racial or ethnic groups as specified by the University ? The Provincial Government has announced that a new nursing program is to be offered at Acadia University where approximately 50 percent of the seats are reserved only for African, Mi'kmaq and Indigenous students. The total number of annual seats set to increase to 63 ? When bearing in mind the current health care worker crisis and an urgent need for nursing grads, is it really wise or responsible to install race or ethnic restrictions that could eliminate many of those wanting to apply ? www2.acadiau.ca/about-acadia/newsroom/news-reader-page/ac...

 

Dec 27, 2021 - Playing the race card ? The Liberal Provincial Government could be on a slippery slope by choosing to use race to determine which applicants will get preferential treatment during a short supply emergency situation in an international health crisis ?

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/51782360402/in/album-7...

 

The Supreme Court says colleges and universities can no longer take race into consideration as a specific basis for granting admission,

www.cnn.com/2023/06/29/politics/affirmative-action-suprem...

 

Free University for some ? B.C. university waives tuition for local First Nation students,

bc.ctvnews.ca/that-s-reconciliation-b-c-university-waives...

 

Aug 2023 - A new physician assistant program at Dal is open to 24 students per year with the preference given to applicants from Nova Scotia, atlantic.ctvnews.ca/n-s-invests-5-6-million-for-first-phy...

 

Oct 10, 2025 - R-Studio plays the race card ?

R-Studio, a local Halifax gym, initiates exclusive low price membership charge that is determined by what race you are ?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsHpxm3yb7c&t=20s

 

June 11, 2025 - Maritime students struggling to find scarce summer jobs in Canada,

www.ctvnews.ca/atlantic/article/mission-impossible-mariti...

 

Tim Horton's appears to be using racial profiling in its hiring policies ? Why aren't the Liberals upset over this inequality and non inclusion ? Kody Bloise Liberal Party, 101A-24 Harbourside drive Wolfville, Nova Scotia B4P 2C1 Telephone: 902-542-4010

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/54605482350/in/album-7...

 

Canada's Gen Z can't find jobs ? www.cbc.ca/news/business/youth-unemployment-rate-1.7549979

 

The Koncerned Kentvillian must ask himself, " why is it every time you gas up at Milne Court Petro-Can, New Minas Ultramar, KVille Ultramar and now the Big Stop, or go to the KFC for chicken, or Mary Browns, or the Burger King, or Subway, or all of the 3 Timmies for coffee, or Walmart, oe Needs, or receive a parcel from amazon, or attend the cash register post to pay a bill at many other stores, it feels like you're suddenly in a foreign country ? " What has happened to all of the friendly locals that used to hold these positions and were one of the main reasons that we all frequented these establishments ? www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/54418705157/

 

Kody Bloise Liberal Party, 101A-24 Harbourside drive Wolfville, Nova Scotia B4P 2C1 Telephone: 902-542-4010 Fax: 902-542-4184

  

Is an identity crisis looming in Kentville ?

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/52094330358/in/album-7...

 

Canada's post-secondary industry predicts storm ahead, as budget cuts shrink courses, staff,

www.cbc.ca/news/canada/post-secondary-cuts-1.7387175

 

July 1, 2021 - the Prime Minister of Canada will not be celebrating Canada Day this year claiming that, for some, Canada Day isn't a day to celebrate." Wha-a-a-a-t -t-t ??? www.cbc.ca/news/politics/canada-day-political-reaction-1....

 

U of T Toronto, Jun 27, 2023 - Jully "I Sung it my Way" Black makes up her own personalized and politicized, 'our home on native land' version of the Canadian National anthem in performance at Toronto university graduation. Black was asked to perform her unique way to sing Canada's national anthem to reflect the core values of the U of T law program ? www.cbc.ca/news/canada/toronto/jully-black-tmu-law-school...

 

Dec 16th 2023 - O Canada sung in Punjabi at the NHL Jets hockey game in Winnipeg Manitoba,

www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKifMtbbyJg

  

2026 Calgary Stampede - Punjabi cowboys at the Stampede ?

x.com/CelticAshes/status/2082533482106872200

 

Apr 15, 2024 - Opioid-related deaths have now doubled in Canada ?

atlantic.ctvnews.ca/video/c2904079-opioid-related-deaths-...

 

Apr 29 2024 - Liberals legalize hard drugs ? Ottawa has allowed B.C. to decriminalize small amounts of hard drugs like heroin and fentanyl starting in 2023, www.cbc.ca/news/politics/decriminalization-british-columb...

 

July 7th 2024 - Come from Away ? SOS - An epidemic of violent crime, homelessness and opioid deaths are now hitting big cities in the down home and laid back Maritime provinces starting in Moncton and Halifax ?

atlantic.ctvnews.ca/video/c2954811-new-brunswick-saw-72-o...

 

March 18, 2025 - Professors, students say Nova Scotia university bill threatens academic freedoms,

www.ctvnews.ca/atlantic/nova-scotia/article/professors-st...

 

March 4th, 2025 - Trump issues a ban on 'illegal' college protests as he threatens students with arrest and deportation,

www.lbc.co.uk/usa/politics/trump-issues-ban-on-illegal-co...

 

April 9, 2025 - Trump administration freezes $1 billion in funding for Cornell University, $790 million for Northwestern University ,,

www.cnn.com/2025/04/09/us/cornell-northwestern-federal-fu...

 

Jan 20,2026 - Trump hates wind turbines ? ‘so pathetic and so bad .. You might notice that China makes and sells them but they will never use them .'

www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wkHCSbSwkw

 

5th Mar 5th, 2025 - U.S. funding freeze affecting both American and international exchange students and major US scholarship funders

monitor.icef.com/2025/03/us-funding-freeze-affecting-both...

 

Trump protecting historic statues - enacts 10 years in jail penalty for harming or defacing a historical statue, www.cbsnews.com/video/trump-signs-executive-order-enactin...

 

February 10, 2025 - Acadia University announces permanent pool closure, discontinues varsity swim team - will close its swimming pool on June 15, 2025,

Students chose Acadia because of the swim team and many parents got calls “from their kids – in tears – devastated.”

Acadia Aquatics,

recreation.acadiau.ca/aquatics.html

 

How not to park at Hennigers farm Market Greenwich,

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/54788130883

 

April 13, 2025 - Eight programs suspended at P.E.I. college over drop in international students,

www.ctvnews.ca/atlantic/prince-edward-island/article/pei-...

 

Sept 13th, 2025 - Acadia Axemen and Dal Tigers hockey teams cross the Dal strikers picket line to play an Exhibition game at Dalhousie University ?

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/54784598896/in/photost...

 

Town of Wolfville breaking the law, obstructing traffic, while creating a safety hazard ? Making trip to and from hockey games has become a real challenge ?

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/54710009955/in/photost...

 

Sep 29, 2025 - Wolfville now studying ways to solve their traffic congestion problem along Main Street ? University access has become challenging ?

www.cbc.ca/news/canada/nova-scotia/wolfville-nova-scotia-...

 

Gambling in amateur Sport ? CBC has introduced gambling into its coverage of the Olympic games? In a groundbreaking move and for the first time ever, CBC will include gambling in its live coverage of Olympic events ?

Paris Olympics 2024 - It appears that CBC has partnered with one particular online Casino company and BetRivers is running sports betting ads during the televising of Olympic sporting events ? Is the inclusion of a Casino and a Sports betting parlor that runs sports betting during Olympic events appropriate when considering the principles and high moral standard exemplified by the Olympic Games ?

 

Aug 22 2024, the Minister of hypocrisy, oops, I mean the Minister of Health Mark Holland and his Liberal Government have passed legislation to enable massive gambling in Canada ? And now NHL heros past and present like Wayne Gretzky, Austin Matthews and Connor McDavid can be found in TV gambling commercials, online gambling ads, and pasted onto huge billboards that promote sports gambling ? But Holland seems more worried about Zonnic, a smoking cessation product that helps to quit a bad habit and sold only to those over 19 and always kept hidden away from view under the counter in stores ?

Fans confused ? After Mark Holland comments on Zonnic and vociferously proclaims that, "All the stuff that's clearly designed to target youth — It's over", we are now seeing NHL Superstar heroes play starring roles in glamorous new bet MGM ads to promote gambling ? Numerous complaints were filed. And so they eased away from this image of a Sports hero who encourages and participates in gambling although McDavid's image itself was never seperated from the gambling vice or the lucrative gambling industry ? A new corrected version now shows Connor as an ambassador for safe and responsible gambling when you gamble ? But isn't it still gambling ? see news article, "Connor McDavid's latest gambling ad with Bet MGM sparks outrage among his fans,"

www.sportskeeda.com/us/nhl/news-disgusted-started-gamblin...

 

Betano - A message to the kids from a sports hero mentor- "are you a good player, or a great player". Betano gambling ads associate words like 'good and great' with gambling ?

www.betano.ca

 

What if they were to advertise a safe way to smoke cigarettes to get more clients ? Sound ridiculous ? But is this not the same as advertising gambling as 'safe'? Don'it these safe gambling ads serve to welcome, endorse and normalize gambling which can be a dangerous and life altering highly addictive habit ?

May 25,2022 - The big gambling companies are running ads that emphasize 'limited play' and 'safe' gambling ? Is this not the same as the alcohol industry running drinking ads that encourage drinking alcohol by telling you how many cocktails to safely drink per day, or, how about the tobacco industry running ads that promote safe smoking by recommending an amount of cigs to safely smoke per day, or the marijuana industry recommending the number of joints to safely get high on each day ? Or, what if they spin : You're 'good' if you drink but You're 'great' if you safe drink, or, you're 'good' if you smoke cigarettes but You're 'great' if you safe smoke only so many cigarettes per day, or , you're 'good' if you smoke pot but you're 'great' if you only smoke this many grams per day ? ref, "All those sports betting ads you're seeing,, It's illegal says the Alberta gaming commission ? www.cbc.ca/player/play/2302654019728

 

Student took out a $24K student loan and then lost it all to the bookies in 24 hours ? What are the legal implications of spending a student loan on something other than on their education ? Student loans are not meant to spend on whatever you want ? www.reddit.com/r/problemgambling/comments/10h3k46/i_just_...

  

Jul 22, 2026 - In their ongoing quest for notoriety, the powers-that-be have ordered cigarette packages to be re engineered and re-designed not to make room for the addition of more product but instead to increase the showcase area size of the package cover ? The added space will be needed to accommodate a fresh new series of 13 upgraded ultra sickening pictures and warnings that are to be added to the existing 73 others now over-crowding current package covers ? Messages will also be added to the extended upper flap hidden inside cigarette packages says Karine LeBlanc.

Do these one track minded people really think they are actually helping find a cure for cancer by continually satisfying their own egos and exercising their own personal vendettas over and over again against one of the thousands of possible causes of cancer that they themselves don't happen to like ?

www.cbc.f ca/news/health/canada-graphic-image-warnings-ciga...

 

Feb 4th 2025, Bell Let's Talk ? Abandoning 3500 Unionized Maritimes telephone workers, refusing to talk to them and leaving them out on the Street for 5 Months does not contribute to good mental health ? U Ottawa Scotty suggests that the internet, mobile phones and the Social media are taking a heavy toll on the mental health and overall mental well being of today's society ? And so maybe there's some hypocrisy shown by giant media mogul Bell Canada who might just be the biggest contributor and profit taker from this national crisis ? www.youtube.com/shorts/31f3sZndK6w

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/51844732131/in/album-7...

 

This year Canadian Taxpayers will pay $1.5 billion dollars to subsidize CBC ?

site-cbc.radio-canada.ca/documents/impact-and-accountabil...

 

June 28,2021, O Canada at the Stanley Cup Finals ? CBC plays an upsetting and unflattering version of the Canadian National Anthem ? www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/51829474529/in/album-7...

 

January 11-22, 2023 - CBC doesn't seem eager to push, promote or publicize male gender hockey like the AHL, WHL, ECHL, U Sports University level or Men's Junior hockey ? www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/52640201721/in/datepos...

 

Halifax, Canada Jan 2023 - This time around the IIHF men's World Juniors hockey tournament will be held in Canada. No games were shown on CBC, and many Canadians were unable to watch Canada's finest male gender Junior hockey players incl Connor Badard play in their home Country and win the Gold for Canada ?

However, although CBC ignored and failed to televise all of the IIHF Men's junior hockey games played on public T.V. they did make sure to televise daily news reports and grant loads of air time on an alleged past scandal that had involved a previous men's IIHF Junior hockey team ? cbc.radio-canada.ca/en/media-centre/official-broadcaster-...

 

Justin says Goodbye Don't cry for me O my Canada.

Jan 06, 2025 - Trudeau resigns as prime minister, Prorogues Parliament until March 24 2025,

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/54385355629/

 

Caste system Canada ? The NDP 2023 Leadership Convention - Is this really Canada ? It seems that the NDP Party has adopted a caste system ( like the system they use over in India ) ? Delegates here must wear caste identifiable yellow or white tags ? Master, Mistress, person or whatever of Ceremonies instructs those who declare themselves as white and male gender to get to the back of the line ? Other identities, or those with yellow tags can go to the front of the line and speak first ?

 

playing the race card ? Apr 3, 2026 - NDP Leadership Convention uses 'racial equity cards' to identify and categorize people by their race and color ? black and red before white after yellow or green etc, etc ?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMtHsUTBrt8

www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDV7ImXwTPI

 

2026 NDP Leadership Convention - Was Hitler's hairdresser here ? Some pretty weird stuff going on,

www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqhIBsaHzCg

  

Lost in Space________Episode # 1_______Death to Deniers !

 

Danger - Will Robinson, Danger !

 

These fine ladies want to see prison sentences handed down to individuals who dare to be themselves and to think independently and are calling anyone with a different opinion from theirs to be a denier or a hater ?

No one denies the existence of residential schools. And so why are Leah Gazan (NDP), Lindsay Mathyssen (NDP), Nahanni Fontaine (NDP) and Kimberley Murray (Liberal Government investigator) so dissatisfied and why are they trying to force their own radical ego-driven personal viewpoints based on as yet unproven allegations on everyone else ? Why do they want you to think the way they think, believe what they believe, and be forced ( by law ) to accept their unique, extreme, selfish and self-serving narrative, (that they get paid for) as being Gods' truth, and,, if you dare resist then you are to be labelled hater or denier and will become a criminal that could be sent to jail for up to life in prison under the law enshrined in Bill C-63 or C-9 that they are all pushing for ?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZU7NEzs3Gk

 

Sep 27, 2024 - Think like me, be like me or go to jail ? - Winnipeg Superstar M.P. Leah Gazan wants you to think like she thinks and be just like her,, or else 'watch out' ?

Narcissistic MP Leah Gazan has introduced her bill in Parliament that calls for criminal charges to be laid on all those who ‘deny’ her own Leah Gazan personal narrative regarding the (unproven) discovery of 215 children' bodies found in a well hidden mass grave in Kamloops, and that Canada is a genocidal nation ? Her Bill C-413 calls for the extremely serious charge of spreading hate to be placed on anyone who she says is promoting hatred against the Indigenous peoples by challenging, questioning, denying or disagreeing with Leah Gazan's unique personal position on this subject ?

www.lifesitenews.com/news/new-democrat-mp-introduces-bill...

  

What Is Truth ?

"If you are strictly one-sided with any opinion, you’re incredibly ignorant".

UBC Jan 22, 2026 - An entire generation of students that grew up attending the Canadian public school system during the Trudeau Liberal era ( 2015 thru 2025 ) have reached post secondary age and are arriving at University in a heavily indoctrinated state of mind with extremely one-sided only, uni-opinion attitudes that they express in a coercive and even physical threatening way ? Violent gangs of young masked and gagged orange shirted student protestors, tribalism, mind control, far left radical activism and propaganda posters hanging in an Authoritarian environment where free will, open debate or speaking truth has become a crime was to be seen recently at the U of B.C. ? This might sound Orwellian, but actually it's the University of B.C. in Vancouver a Canadian institute of higher learning that gets over a billion dollars per year of public funding ? Frances Widdowson, "Without truth and without freedom, our Universities will die." www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihsLPodE9R0

 

Ace CBC reporter Jordan Tucker ? In her interview assignment for CBC with Professor Widdowson, Jordan says that she thinks around 6000 childrens bodies have been found so far on first nation reservation schools, and that, to her ( a salaried journalist for CBC ) the truth is not really a top priority ? www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ik61NGwXas&t=58s

 

Residential schools. After three years of searching for bodies at a cost to taxpayers of $216.5 million, not a single set of human remains have been found ?

thecatholicherald.com/article/failure-to-find-bodies-ends...

 

U of Vic claims 215 but Frances and Dallas say Zero ?

What Is Truth ?

Dec 3rd 2025, Frances and Dallas visit the U of Vic in Victoria B.C. and discover mass indoctrination of impressionable young minds ? Open free thinking and freedom of speech were being discouraged here ? Asking questions that ruffle some feathers or challenge the status quo are not wanted on this campus ? Challenging the teachings here can get you abused or even carted off to jail ? www.youtube.com/watch?v=u53G5WBpVmc

www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSRn8BzpvLc

 

May 28th, 2026 - If we believe massive untruths being told to us then our democracy will collapse,

www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2pd8-F2p0A&t=17s

 

Feb 24th, 2026 - Lethbridge, "You're not welcome here !" Welcome to the University of Lethbridge where manners are ignored, physical manhandling is allowed, etiquette is absent, and where students use threats of bodily harm, chant ancient tribal war cries and bang out continuous monotone loud drumming noise to injure ear drums to drown out the opposition during debate ? www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2Moi7VM7xI

www.youtube.com/watch?v=q67np9izmds

 

Apr 26th, 2026 - A whited sepulchre University set in the windy city of Lethbridge - Following yet another arrest and another trip in the paddy wagon, Frances Widdowson pleads with Alberta Premier Danielle Smith to help re-enforce the basic rule of truth based on free and independent thinking in our public schools once again ? "Without truth and without freedom, our Universities will die."

www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfPix14aMIc

 

UBC Jan 22,2026 - Counter viewpoint reporters attacked and must run for their lives ?

 

UBC zombie apocalypse, Jan 22,2026

www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfIpTnyH_Zg

 

2021, Major Canadian Party leader Jagmeet Singh attacks his own Country calling it genocidal ? Jag says that he knows of 215 bodies that were found in hidden unmarked mass graves in Kamloops and this clearly shows him that Canada is a genocidal nation ?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQb3GZx_ZR0

 

2021 - Dr. Timothy Rahilly, President Mt. Royal College in Calgary - When Rahilly hears of a story that unmarked graves may have been found at a Kamloops B.C. residential school the President of Mt. Royal College quickly turns on his University PA system and immediately makes an official announcement to the entire student body that 215 children have just been found buried in a mass unmarked grave at the Kamloops B.C. residential school and that a shaken, shameful, and perhaps genocidal nation, is heartbroken ? One of the senior teachers at his University has asked for evidence to support such a monumental and newly discovered horrible allegation and he has fired her ? www.youtube.com/watch?v=esGhB3uNHwA

www.youtube.com/watch?v=esGhB3uNHwA

 

Mar 23,2026 - Mt. Royal College, " my spider sense is tingling "

Is Mt. Royal College in Calgary making the kids Crazy ?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPQNM063-lY

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWN0CgVD5x0&t=1014s

 

"What are they doing to our kids" ? Many Parents contribute for years into Registered Education Savings Plans that are to be turned over to Universities on behalf of their Children,

www.canada.ca/en/services/benefits/education/education-sa...

 

Apr 29, 2026 - Vancouver School Board to introduce an Orwellian concept known as 'unlearning' into their system ? They are also re-naming schools from historic English names to instead Indigenous names that cannot be pronounced and use letters not found on the standard keyboard ?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrC4GB4wURI

 

Vancouver March 12, 2026 - Have Liberal backroom land transfer deals with first nations already transpired as the Eby provincial NDP government pretended to look the other way ? The Indians may now own property rights in and around Vancouver ?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=kT2DqPzulos

www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/musqueam-rights-r...

 

March 12, 2026 - treachury or treason ? B.C.'s Eby Government may be giving Canada away while insulting veterans who fought to secure and retain it ? Led by Spencer Herbert it seems the NDP party in B.C. want to give Canada land rights away without first asking Canadians for permission ? www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVTzJWE86go

first nations NDP supported land grab, www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCXocwlZiQc

 

March 12, 2026 - What NDP Spencer Herbert is trying to do with property rights in B.C. was recently defeated in a fellow Province's Highest Court ? New Brunswick's supreme court ruled that Aboriginal Title Cannot Co-Exist with Fee Simple Title,, www.fasken.com/en/knowledge/2026/01/new-brunswick-court-o...

 

2025 An Election Overturned - Double crossers deny democracy in Canada ?

www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/55228615842

 

March 09, 2026, Canada’s Bill C-3 "An Act to amend the Citizenship Act" - New Liberal legislation allows Canadian citizenship to be passed down over multiple generations back to as far as caveman days, and this care free attitude means that many millions of unvetted individuals will now be eligible to automatically become Canadian ? www.cbc.ca/player/play/video/9.7120945

 

Aug 17, 2026 - Demand for Canadian citizenship soaring, fuelled by Americans ? Swamped with requests for records, applications up 50% and backlog now tops 120,000 www.cbc.ca/news/politics/canadian-citizenship-certificate...

 

March 14, 2026 - In a completely contrary position to that of Canada, the country of Italy has restricted Italian citizenship for anyone born abroad. Italy has enacted a ruling that tells millions with Italian roots that they have lost the right to their citizenship,

www.ctvnews.ca/world/article/italy-ruling-tells-millions-...

 

March 12, 2026 - Acadia University reducing staff levels amid ‘financial pressures’? 31 Acadia positions eliminated. University monetary chaos affecting not only the institutions but also the broader economy. Financial difficulties stem from capped international student enrollments, increased costs of high-end employment, and draconian funding cuts by provincial government. These have all led to job cuts, program reductions, and even campus closures. The financial strain on universities is expected to continue, with further announcements of layoffs and program cuts are likely to come soon. www.ctvnews.ca/atlantic/nova-scotia/article/acadia-univer...

 

Mar 4th, 2026 - Canada grants $100 million in scholarships for students in India ? This comes on the heels of PM Carney's trip to India.

www.youtube.com/post/Ugkx1VHElLBjsSwpz5-CK3P4SsNdrZmGdelS

 

feb 25, 2026 - Drastic University cuts implemented in latest Nova Scotia Provincial budget. Tim Houston's PC government is reducing funding for all Universities incl the PhD programs in education at Acadia,

www.halifaxexaminer.ca/wp-content/uploads/2026/02/Grant-R...

 

February 26, 2026 - Vulnerable hard hit starving Nova Scotia university students who struggle daily with the high cost of living in Nova Scotia prepare for a week-long strike to protest the provincial education cut, the cuts to advanced education grants, and they are demanding tuition reductions and divestment from fossil fuel dollars,

globalnews.ca/video/11708934/n-s-university-students-prep...

 

March 15, 2026 - Dalhousie University students vote to join the Nova Scotia student strike, www.ctvnews.ca/atlantic/nova-scotia/article/dalhousie-uni...

 

George Orwell's dark prediction has just come true.

London England, Apr 22,2026 - The British Parliament has just enacted legislation to install a form of Orwellian Totalitarian rule into current democratic English society that allows for the installment of Government social control in the form of mandatory lifetime probationary orders to be placed on certain selected unwary citizens without asking their permission who will then be state monitored from birth to death to insure compliance is met on the legal lifetime probation order that is attached to them ? Rob Cunningham and his Cancer Society are boldly crusading for residents of his democratic home country of Canada to lose their current freedom and also be forced into this Orwellian social control ? www.ctvnews.ca/world/article/uk-agrees-ban-on-cigarette-s...

  

Dec 13th, 2025 - this could be a bit rich ? The top doctor for Nova Scotia is advertising smoking for the liquor store ? Dr. Robert Strang Chief Medical Officer of Health now appearing in TV ads that endorse the (safe) smoking of pot while he represents Provincially owned liquor stores ? It's also a bit rich that Rob Cunningham and his Canadian Cancer Society don't appear to have any problem at all with these smoking ads ?

www.facebook.com/watch/?v=4190201767960744

 

May 29th, 2026, Kentville Memorial Park, the ABF Friday night concert, ( Can the good ole days of dollar dogs and bargain Big 8 soda pop be over) ? High level security protocol established for an evening of food wagons and kids bouncy castles ? ( must have taken up most of their budget at the sacrifice of bringing in some quality outside live entertainment) ? Town calls in outside police to reinforce local Kentville police, cordons off entire ground zero event perimeter with road blocks, street barricades and manned guard check posts to enforce maximum level traffic control that, unfortunately, has made patrons including seniors, the disabled, toddlers, and Mothers carrying babies have to park and walk from a fair distance to get to the park gates ? Also, in past years concert organizers always brought in special outside guest rock bands, and always featured interesting games, demonstrations and displays, and there was always a visit from the Queen Annapolisa Royal party following the prestigious coronation ceremony in Wolfville, However, unfortunately, this years event seems to have deteriorated into some kind of a Children's outdoor romper room type family show featuring food trucks, inflatable air bouncy castles and a local band featured as the star main stage performer ? There's not much to do or see for those exceeding the elementary school level other than maybe purchase some food from a food truck that charges upscale restaurant prices and then dine on a paper plate using plastic utensils while standing in a crowd of unruly kids and being lustfully observed by some nearby saliva drooling pet dogs leashed to their owners ? However, thanks to the heightened security and upscale traffic control there was a report of one parking violator being successfully apprehended and a runaway pet was also captured and returned to its owner ? www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/54558198569/in/photost...

 

The genocide of tradition and culture is going on in Kentville ? Why is it always Kentville ? First came the loss of the Railway and Day-liner service back in 1989, then Kings council expropriated the local Airport and evicted all the other well established aviation schools and businesses, they had tried to take Grand street parade away from Kentville in 2017, and then we lost the famous Cornwallis Inn logo and the 88 yrs old statue in Halifax was torn down, they then terminated Apple Blossom Princess Kentville and ended the 87 consecutive years of the glorious Queen Annapolisa pageant. Kentville lost all of the diversity provided by nearby villages that always participated in the Festival, as well as the termination of the all Princess teas, the Wolfville Coronation, and the popular mid-week public outdoor entertainment always held at Memorial Park during ABF week ? And now they appear to be after the essential long time Kentville Library ?

After the Town terminated many traditional sources of public enjoyment while never offering any similar or even close replacement, and as Kentville gradually approaches cultural ghost town status, it is noticable that the downtown business core (in which the Mayor has a major private business interest ) has been totally renovated and restored to pristine condition by way of a complete beautification program complete with new installations of street paving, street paint, new double sidewalks on both sides, new driveway entrances, new curb and gutter both sides, signage and flower pots ? And the other three surrounding streets making up this downtown business block have also been totally upgraded including Aberdeen Street (twice), Cornwallis Street and Main Street ?

www.cbc.ca/news/canada/nova-scotia/annapolis-valley-libra...

www.ctvnews.ca/atlantic/video/2026/06/02/funding-cuts-lea...

 

May 09, 2026 A cyberattack has hit universities worldwide, including top Canadian schools. www.cbc.ca/news/canada/canvas-cyber-attack-canadian-unive...

 

Kentville - The newcomers to Kentville are downsizing and cheapening the historic Memorial Park Friday night rock concert ?

The ongoing deterioration of our world famous Annapolis Valley Apple Blossom Festival ! Honey they shrunk the stage . Bring back Eddies Basement . www.flickr.com/photos/74039487@N02/55295377420/in/photost...

 

June 20th, 2026 following the famous firing of Don Cherry a few years back, CBC is now planning to cancel entirely the NHL traditional Hockey night in Canada show after a 74 year Saturday night run ? Does CBC plan to move the current Womens's PWHL games held on Saturday afternoon to this newly vacated important Saturday evening time slot ? Is CBC shifting the focus to women's gender sports only ?

www.msn.com/en-ca/news/insight/cbc-ends-nhl-broadcasts-sh...

 

May 06, 2026 - NSCC- Nova Scotia Community College cutting 91 positions after a $15M shortfall,

www.ctvnews.ca/atlantic/nova-scotia/article/nova-scotia-c...

 

May 09, 2026 - Canadian colleges may be in crisis — mass layoffs are gutting campuses near you, and students could pay the price

www.msn.com/en-ca/money/topstories/canadian-colleges-are-...

 

CBC News · Posted: May 12, 2026 - Boys are falling behind the girls in school. New Quebec report says boys are systemically disadvantaged in school system ? The high school dropout rate for boys is 27.1 per cent, while for girls it's 19.9 per cent.

www.cbc.ca/news/canada/boys-falling-behind-in-school-9.71...

 

Aug 25, 2026 - Research Nova Scotia unveiled $1.2 million funding at opening of the Canadian Tick Research and Innovation Centre (CTRIC) at Acadia University . Project aims to develop new tick-control and repellency technologies. The federal government is also spending $455,000 on the project, according to Acadia University,

www.cbc.ca/news/canada/nova-scotia/acadia-tick-lab-fundin...

   

Milang and the Murray River Boat Trade.

In 1853 the governor of SA offered a reward of £4,000 to the first river steam boat to navigate the Murray to Wentworth and beyond. Captain Francis Cadell working with William Younghusband, a close friend of the governor received the prize although Captain William Randell of Mannum reached Wentworth in his steam boat at the same time. Cadell had named his boat after the wife of the Governor, the Lady Augusta and the Governor and a small party travelled on Captain Cadell’s boat. After this financial boost Cadell went on to establish the River Murray Navigation Company based in Goolwa. Randell established his own shipping line based in Mannum. The river trade began in earnest in 1854. The prize was intercolonial transportation of goods into western NSW and southern Qld via the Darling River from Wentworth. In the 1850s there was almost no settlement in SA along the river so the money to be made was in NSW and the upper reaches of the Murray in Victoria. Randell transported flour to Echuca, for example, for overland transport from Echuca to the goldfields at Bendigo. The early river steamers and barges were manufactured along the Murray and the lakes, often at Goolwa or Mannum or in Milang. Wool was the staple product shipped down the river from NSW and the return trips took up flour, sugar, tea, pianos, furniture, engines or whatever outback stations needed. Customs duties were due at the SA/NSW/Vic border and the Qld border. Milang established a niche role for itself in the riverboat trade; it made steamers and barges, provided captains and skilled navigators and handled the bulk of supplies going up to NSW as Milang was the closest and easiest river port to Adelaide. Duranda Terrace in Milang handled 50 to 60% of all SA exports up the river. Merchants flourished here and Landseers established a large wool handling and warehousing business with offices in Morgan, Murray Bridge, Goolwa, Wentworth, Wilcannia and Mildura. But their headquarters were in Milang.

 

Albert Landseer the company founder was born in England in 1829 and was a cousin to the famous British landscape painter of the same surname. Albert studied sculpture himself but gave it up to immigrate to SA. He became the agent for Captain Cadell of Goolwa in 1856 and from that contract he expanded his business all along the river. He had ten children with his first wife and six with his second. He controlled almost all the trade through Milang and was known as the “Duke of Milang.” His business partner who contributed financial support was William Dunk. Albert Landseer died in 1906 as the river trade was starting to reduce. Landseer contributed to the district by becoming a member of parliament and was a popular local identify. Alas his four storey stone flour mill and three storey warehouse in Duranda Terrace were both demolished a long time ago. (His impressive wool store in Morgan still stands.) Landseer’s flour mill operated from around 1870 to 1890 replacing the Pavy flour mill that was established in Milang in the 1850s to supply flour for the riverboat trade. The heyday of the riverboat trade was in the 19th century. Before any railways reached western NSW almost all trade was carried on the river through SA. Railways reached western NSW and upper Victoria in the 1880s. But the river trade persisted as so many stations were situated right on the banks of the Darling River and so river transport was the easiest and cheapest right into the middle 1920s. The first jetty was constructed in Milang in 1856 to get the river trade going. It was increased in length in 1859 and again in 1869 until it was 217 metres (711 feet) long. A tram track took cargo to the end of the jetty. The great Murray flood of 1956 saw half the jetty washed away.

 

Although much of the river boat trade died away in the 1920s some services continued, especially the local steamer service across Lake Alexandrina. Once the railway from Adelaide reached Milang in 1884 a service was started to connect with the trains to take passenger and freight across the lakes to Poltalloch station, Meningie and from there overland through the Coorong to the South East and Melbourne. The paddle steamer Dispatch plied this route from 1877 between Milang and Meningie. After 1884 other vessels were also used on this route. Trade declined considerably in Milang itself after 1878 when the SA railway reached Morgan. It then became the major river port, rather than Milang.

 

Because of the river trade Milang had a thriving boat building industry. George Ross established engineering works in Milang and then branched out into boats. Ross’ major competitor was Frank Potts of Langhorne Creek who built his boats in Milang too. Potts built many of the boats used by Landseer’s company. The last boat built for Landseer was the Marion in 1897. This is the paddle steamer now in the Museum at Mannum. Another well known boat builder in Milang was C.H.F. Kruse. The register of steamers built in Milang lists:

1857The Enterprise.

1872 The Ponkaree.

1873Landseer’s floating dry dock was built and then later sold on to William Randell at Mannum in 1876.

1875The Wilcannia.

1876The Annie and the Bourke.

1877The Avoca and the Dispatch.

1878The Milang, the Elsie, the John Hart and the Victor.

1880The Mary Ann (second steamer of this name).

1891The Ada and Clara. (This was financed by the Bowmans for the lake crossing to Poltalloch Station.)

1892The Advance and the Retreat.

1897The Agnostic, the Marion and the Tarella.

1898The Etona (used by the Anglican Church for services along the Murray from Murray Bridge to Renmark.)

1911The Elsie (second steamer of this name).

Although the river trade was starting to die off in the early 20th century in 1902 the lock system was agreed upon by the states. It was mainly built to provide a constant river level free from snags in the Murray. The locks were also to control river flows in times of drought and keep the Murray navigable. The first Murray River lock was started in 1915 and finished at Blanchetown in 1922. It took another 20 years for the remaining 25 locks along the river to Albury to be completed. The final stage of this project really was the construction of the five barrages to prevent salt water from entering the lakes and Murray River. They were completed in 1940.

 

A Brief History of Milang.

The settlers of Strathalbyn were anxious to have a port near their town especially after the Wheal Ellen mine began operations in 1857. In August 1853 Captains Cadell and Randell had proved the viability of river trade. In light of this the Surveyor General Arthur Freeling ordered a township to be laid out on the shores of Lake Alexandrina near where the Bremer and Angas rivers enter the lake. A site was selected on high ground away from both river mouths. Milang was laid out by January 1854. The town had a grid pattern, like Adelaide surrounded by parklands on three sides and the lake on the other. Blocks must have sold quickly as in 1857 a private development was laid out beyond the parklands by Dr Rankine of Strathalbyn. The town name was selected from a local Aboriginal word “Millangk” which meant place of sorcery and magic. Some might argue that Milang is still a magical place!

 

Among the purchasers of the first town lots, as was to be the case in Langhorne Creek too, were the elite of Strathalbyn- the Gollans, Stirlings, Dawsons etc. Other pioneers of Milang were the Landseer family and G Chalken. Chalken owned the Lake Hotel, established in 1856 in a side street. The Pier Hotel facing the lake was built in 1857 and still stands. Landseer soon opened a general store and Post Office. He bought machinery from the original Pavy flour mill and built a new one in 1871. Around this time he also erected a large wool store and other warehouses along Duranda Terrace making him the main businessman in town. Milang blossomed overnight on the expectation of successful river trading. A South Australian Register newspaper article in 1857 described the new town thus: “Milang is becoming a very bustling little port and will shortly grow into a place of importance. Already it has two inns, a steam mill, a store of some extent, a chapel in the course of erection, a timber yard and a jetty on which there were lying on Tuesday the Symmetry twenty five tons, the Blue Jacket five tons and the Enterprise eight tons. There are now about one hundred and ten souls in the township and several hundred settlers within a radius of two or three miles. Cultivation is progressing extensively and wheat and flour are continuously shipped, and also silver and lead from Strathalbyn and the Wheal Ellen mines.” Alas Milang is no longer a bustling port or town!

 

As with most other towns the first public structures were the two hotels and the early school room in 1856. This purpose built school is still in use. The first church erected was the Church of Christ in Coxe Street in 1857. This church was enlarged in 1899 and again in 1901. By 1866 Milang had two further churches the Primitive Methodist erected in 1866 in Chapel Street and the Congregational Church erected in 1862 in Stephenson Street. The Congregational Church originally had a thatched roof and it is now the Uniting Church. The Anglican Church was not built until 1911 and its completion was financially assisted by the Dunk family. Before then Anglican services were conducted in the Institute building. Mrs Landseer laid the foundation stone of the Institute in January 1884. James Rankine of Strathalbyn opened the Institute later that year. By 1890 it was free of debt and in 1917 further additions were made to it. A District Council was formed in Milang in 1855 and the first meetings were held in nearby Belvedere. A police station opened in Milang in 1865 but Milang began to slide backwards shortly after that. The tramway to Strathalbyn in 1869 bypassed Milang despite pleas for it to travel via Milang. However they did get a rail line in 1884 to link with the Adelaide line at Sandergrove. In 1893 a butter factory opened in Milang, the Lakeside Butter Factory which exported local butter to England. It closed in 1915. It re-opened some time later and was still operating in the 1930s. The infamous shacks along the lake foreshore were built around 1948. The Milang Progress Association controlled the area until the local Council resumed control in 1967. Despite government threats to their existence the shack owners have had several reprieves and they are still there.

 

  

Many bus operators offered parcles services for the transportation of small and lighter weight packages. Often these woudl be 'collected' or dispatched by services buses and, as here, a fleet of vans was available for 'off route' collections and final deliveries. For the most part these schemes withered away towards the end of the 1960s as route networks were curtailed and operational organisation changes making such sundry services less practicable or profitable.

 

This leaflet, undated by feels mid-1960s, is quite graphically clean and smart using simple colours, blocks and repetition. I like the simple four blocks and arrow motif, symbolising parcels and transport, used on the cover and possibly on the van fleet of the Ulster Transport Authority. The UTA was formed in 1948, mirroring the nationalisation and creation of the British Transport Commission in Great Britain, and it merged together the existing Northern Ireland Road Passenger Transport Board with the Belfast & County Down Railway. In 1949 came the railways of the previously LMS owned Northern Counties Committee and in 1957/8 came what was left of the Great Northern Railway (Ireland)'s system north of the border. The UTA were ruthless in reducing the railway network and replacing services with bus and coach operation. The UTA ceased to exist in 1967/8 witht he creation of Ulsterbus and Northern Ireland Railways.