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, Lettice is entertaining her old childhood chum Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy who has tried to gain some independence from his family by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street, in the dining room of her Cavendish Mews flat: a room equally elegantly appointed with striking black japanned Art Deco furnishings intermixed with a select few Eighteenth Century antiques. The room is heady with the thick perfume of roses brought back from Glynes, the Chetwynd’s palatial Georgian family estate in Wiltshire, from where Lettice has recently returned after visiting a neighbour of sorts of her parents, Mr. Alisdair Gifford who wishes Lettice to decorate a room for his Australian wife Adelina, to house her collection of blue and white china. A bowl full of delicate white blooms graces the black japanned dining table as a centrepiece, whilst a smaller vase of red roses sits on the sideboard at the feet of Lettice’s ‘Modern Woman’ statue, acquired from the nearby Portland Gallery in Bond Street. Silver and crystal glassware sparkle in the light cast by both candlelight and electric light. The pair of old friends have just finished a course of Suprême de Volaille Jeanette: a fillet of chicken served with a rich white roux creamy sauce, ordered from Harrod’s Meat and Fish Hall* and warmed up and finished off by Edith, Lettice’s maid, in the Cavendish Mews kitchen. Gerald returns to the table with two small glasses of port after filling them from a bottle of liqueur in Lettice’s cocktail cabinet in the corner of the room just as Edith steps across the threshold of the dining room carrying a silver tray laden with three types of cheese and an assortment of biscuits, wafers and crackers.

 

“About time, Edith.” Lettice mutters irritably as Edith approaches and slides the tray gently onto the dining table. “Careful! Don’t scratch the table’s surface.”

 

“I’m sorry, Miss.” Edith says as she blushes, a lack of understanding filling her face. “I… I didn’t realise I was scratching it.”

 

“Well, you haven’t, Edith,” she snaps back. “But you need to be more careful!”

 

“Yes Miss.” Edith bobs a curtsey, a wounded look on her usually bright face.

 

Glancing between Lettice toying distractedly with the rope of pearls about her neck looking anywhere but at either her maid or himself, and the poor embarrassed domestic, Gerald pipes up, “There’s nothing to apologise for, Edith. There’s no harm done. Miss Chetwynd is just a bit tired and overwrought. Aren’t you Lettice darling?”

 

When Lettice doesn’t answer, whether because she hasn’t heard Gerald as she gets lost in her own thoughts, or because she knows that she is in the wrong, admonishing her maid like that for no reason, Gerald adds, “The Suprême de Volaille Jeanette was delicious. Thank you.” He then gently indicates with a movement of his kind eyes and a swift sweeping gesture of his hand that she should go.

 

“Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Edith replies as she bobs a second curtsey and quickly scuttles back through the green baize door leading from the diming room back into the service area of the flat.

 

“You don’t seem yourself at all, Lettice darling!” Gerald says in concern once he estimates that Edith is out of earshot. “Upbraiding Edith like that, and for no good reason. She didn’t mark the table. You’ve been in a funk ever since you came back from Wiltshire.” He pauses momentarily and reconsiders. “Actually no, you’ve been like this for a little while before that.” He looks at her knowingly. “What’s the matter with you, darling?”

 

“Oh I’m sorry.” Lettice sighs.

 

“It’s not me you should be sorry to.”

 

“I’ll apologise to Edith a little bit later. I’ll let her settle down first.”

 

“Well, I should hope you will.” Gerald takes a sip and cocks his eyebrow over his eye as he stares at Lettice. “Alright, out with it! What’s the matter, then?”

 

“Looking at me the way you are, can’t you guess, Gerald darling?”

 

“It’s that rather awful Fabian** charlatan, Gladys, isn’t it?” Gerald replies. As he does, he shudders as he remembers the awful snub Lady Gladys gave him.

 

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 the Bloomsbury flat of her ward, Phoebe Chambers. 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. The day it happened, Lettice was invited to hear Lady Gladys give a reading from her latest romance novel ‘Miranda’ at its launch in the Selfridge’s book department. Wanting company, and thinking he might enjoy the outing, Lettice invited Gerald to join her. When Lady Gladys met Gerald, she took an instant dislike to him and snubbed him, calling him ‘Mister Buttons’ much to his chagrin.

 

“Well done, Gerald darling.” Lettice replies sulkily, toying idly with her own glass.

 

“So, what’s the trouble with Gladys now?” Gerald asks. “Come on, tell me all the ghastly details.”

 

“What’s the point, Gerald darling? It won’t make one iota of difference.” Her shoulders slump forward as she speaks.

 

“You don’t know that.” Gerald counters. “If nothing else, it will probably make you feel better just talking about it, and hopefully by unblocking the frustrations you so obviously feel, you’ll be a bit kinder to poor Edith.” He gives her a hopefully glance.

 

“I know. Edith didn’t deserve my ire.”

 

“Especially when she didn’t do anything wrong. It would be a shame to lose such a good maid. Good servants like Edith are hard to come by.”

 

“I know, Gerald! I know!”

 

“If I could afford to employ her full time as a seamstress, I would. However I can only afford Molly to do some piecework for me a few days a week at the moment. But once my atelier expands, you’d better watch out. I’ll poach her.”

 

“Edith?”

 

“Yes of course, darling. Who else?”

 

“As a seamstress? Why?”

 

“Good heavens! Haven’t you noticed how smartly turned out she is when she’s not in uniform and is going out?” Gerald asks with incredulity. When Lettice shakes her head coyly he continues, “For a woman who has an eye for detail, you can be very unobservant sometimes. Edith, like most working girls, makes her own clothes, I’d imagine from patterns in one of those cheap women’s magazines directed towards middle-class housewives I see flapping in the breeze at newspaper kiosks. However, unlike a great many of them, she obviously has a natural aptitude for sewing. That’s why I’d take her on as a seamstress.”

 

“I must confess, I’ve never really noticed what Edith wears. She’s just…” Lettice isn’t quite sure how to phrase it. “She’s just there.”

 

“Well, one day she may not be,” Gerald warns before taking another sip of liqueur. “And then you’ll be in trouble trying to find her like as a replacement. Anyway,” he coughs. “I’m not going to pinch her from you just yet. Now, what’s the problem with Gladys?”

 

Lettice lets out a very heavy sigh. “Oh, she’s awful, Gerald darling: positively frightful. She rings me nearly every day, or sometimes several times a day, hounding me! I’m starting to make Edith answer the telephone more often now, because I’m terrified that it will be Gladys.”

 

“Well, we all know how much dear Edith hates the telephone.”

 

“Well, usually that would be true, but she knows that Gladys is Madeline St John, and I’ve told her that Gladys promises to give her a few signed copies of her books one of these days, so she doesn’t seem to mind when it’s her. Gladys seems to have that common touch with her.”

 

“Common is right.” quips Gerald. “Low-class gutter novelist works her way into the upper echelons by way of an advantageous marriage.”

 

“Gerald!” Lettice gasps

 

“It’s true Lettice, and you must know it by now, even if you didn’t know it before.”

 

“Well, whatever she may or may not be, Gerald, I just can’t talk to her directly. I need a moment to gird my loins*** before I take on the unpleasant task of talking to her, or perhaps a more appropriate description would be, being spoken to by her, at considerable length.”

 

“You haven’t corrupted poor Edith and coerced her into telling little white lies for you when Gladys does ring and say that you’re out.”

 

“No!” Lettice gives Gerald a guilty side glance. “Well not yet anyway.” she corrects. “I’ve thought about doing it, and it’s a very tempting idea. However, I know how much Edith already hates answering the telephone, and being such a despicably honest girl, I think asking her to fib for me, especially to her favourite romance writer, might be just a bridge too far for her.”

 

“Damn the goodness of your maid, Lettice darling.” Gerald replies jokingly with a cheeky smile causing his mouth to turn up impishly, as he cuts a slice of cheese and puts it on a water cracker wafer, before lifting it to his lips.

 

“Oh you’re no help!” Lettuce swats at her best friend irritably. “You make me feel guilty for even countenancing such a thought.”

 

“Well, someone has to try and keep you honest in this sinful city, darling.” he jokes again. “Mummy would never forgive me if I didn’t try and keep you as virtuous as possible.”

 

“I’d believe that of Aunt Gwen.” Lettice agrees. “On the other hand, Mater is convinced that you’re the root of the destruction of her precious, obsequious youngest daughter.”

 

“Sadie is wiser and more observant than I’ve ever given her credit for.” Gerald murmurs in surprise. “I should be more charitable to her in future as regards her intellect.”

 

“That I should like to see.” Lettice giggles, a smile breaking across her lips and brightening her face, dispelling some of the gloom.

 

“That you will never see.” Gerald replies firmly. “That’s better. At least I made you laugh.”

 

“You always make me laugh, darling Gerald.” Lettice reaches across the table and grasps his hand lovingly, winding her fingers around his bigger fisted hand. “You are the best and most supportive friend I could ever hope to have.”

 

“Jolly good, my dear. Now, besides telephoning far too often, what else is the trouble with Gladys?” Gerald presses.

 

“Well, she seems to want to be in control of everything in relation to Pheobe’s Bloomsbury pied-à-terre redecoration.”

 

“Isn’t Gladys footing the bill, Lettice darling?”

 

“Well yes, she is.”

 

“Then it seems to me that she has every right to be involved in the decision making that goes on, particularly as you’ve told me that Phoebe shows a lack of interest in the whole project.”

 

“Yes, but what Gladys is doing is taking over. I don’t think she’d even engage my services if I didn’t have the contacts in the painting, papering and furnishing business she needs. I have no chance to exercise any of my own judgement. Anything I do has to be checked by her: the paint tint for the walls, the staining of the floorboards, the fabric for the furnishings. And she has demonstrated that she has no real interest in my ideas.”

 

“Hhhmmm…” Gerald begins, chewing his mouthful of cheese and biscuit thoughtfully before continuing. “That does sound a trifle tiresome.”

 

“A trifle tiresome? Gerald, you always were the master of understatement.”

 

“I see no reason to panic. She is the client exercising her rights. And since she is the one paying for your services, indulge her in her necessity to be consulted on all facets of the redecoration.”

 

“Oh I’m doing that. Against my better judgement, I’m having floral chintz draperies hung in the drawing room and bedroom because that’s what she wants.”

 

“Good heavens!” Gerald exclaims, nearly choking on a fresh mouthful of cheese and wafer biscuit. “You, selecting chintz as part of your décor decisions?”

 

“My point exactly. It isn’t me that’s decided that, it’s Gladys who has. You know how much I loathe chintz at the best of times.” Lettice shudders at the thought. “I tried hinting at some plain green hangings instead as a very nice alternative, but like anything else where I try my best to negotiate for Phoebe, I am barked at and told in no uncertain terms that I will do no such thing.”

 

“Negotiate for Phoebe?”

 

“Yes, now that I’m well and truly wound up in what you rightly called Gladys’ sticky spiderweb, I’m beginning to see things for what they truly are.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“For a start, I don’t think Phoebe is disinterested in the renovations to her pied-à-terre at all. I’ve seen with my own eyes now, how whenever Pheobe expresses an opinion contrary to that of Gladys, Gladys quickly snuffs out any dissention. As far as Gladys is concerned, her choice is not only the best and right choice, but the only choice to make. Pheobe wants to keep some of her parents’ belongings in the flat, but Gladys won’t hear of it! She wants a clean sweep! I suggest a compromise, but Gladys dismisses it. So, the colours to go on the walls, the furnishings, the fabrics, even the hideous chintz curtains have all been decided upon and approved by Gladys, and Phoebe doesn’t even get a chance to express an opinion. Phoebe isn’t disinterested, she’s simply overruled and completely smothered by Gladys’ overbearing nature.”

 

“Delicious.” Gerald murmurs as he leans his elbows on the black japanned surface of the dining table and leans forward conspiratorially.

 

“It’s not delicious at all!” Lettice splutters. “It’s a frightful state of affairs!”

 

“Well, in truth, that really does sound bloody*****, Lettice darling!”

 

“Like I said, it’s a dreadful state of affairs! I feel as if I am betraying not only poor Pheobe, but the memory of her dead parents in favour of a domineering woman whom no-one it seems can stand up to.”

 

“Have you tried her husband, Sir John?”

 

“He kowtows to her wishes as much as anyone else. I now understand why he has such a dogged look upon his face. I thought it was just age.”

 

“When in fact it was just Gladys?”

 

“Indeed! And what’s even worse is that Gladys is wearing me down now too. It’s just easier to agree to everything she says, and not even attempt a compromise in Phoebe’s favour.”

 

“Well, whilst I know you don’t like the situation, from my own personal experience of dealing with difficult clients, I can say that the path of least resistance is sometimes the best. Do you remember that frock I made for Sophie Munro, the American shipping magnate’s daughter?”

 

Lettice considers Gerald’s question for a moment. “Yes, I think I do. Wasn’t it pale pink with blue trimming?”

 

“Indeed it was, Lettice darling: pink linen with blue trim, with a bias cut drape over one sleeve and a flounced skirt. Poor Sophie has an… ahem…” Gerald clears his throat rather awkwardly as he thinks of the correct phrase. “A rather Rubenesque figure, and the flounced skirt was perhaps less flattering than something with long pleats, which was I had suggested to Mrs. Munro.”

 

“But Mrs. Munro was like Gladys?”

 

“She was, darling, and she wouldn’t hear a word of it. A flounced skirt was what Mrs. Munro wanted, and a flounced skirt was what Sophie received, and she flounced her way back to America, where I’m sure her rather voluptuous derrière will be commented upon by every young eligible man on Long Island, for all the wrong reasons. However, I did it, and I cut ties with Mrs. Munro because now that my atelier is finally turning a modest profit, I can. I don’t need recommendations from her, but I do need her to be happy so that she will at least speak favourably of me, rather than say disparaging things. The same goes for you. Do what Gladys wants and then be done with her. Do it as quickly as possible, then the pain will be over, and she will praise you to boot.”

 

“I can’t help but feel badly for Phoebe though, Gerald.”

 

“I know you do, and I feel sorry for poor Sophie Munro being laughed at behind her back by young cads as she tries to be beguiling with a large derrière, but there you have it. You cannot be responsible to solve the relationship between mother and daughter.”

 

“Aunt and ward.” Lettice corrects.

 

“It equates to the same.” Gerald counters. “You are a businesswoman, Lettice, not an agony aunt******.”

 

“Well, you’re a businessman, and you seem to be a good agony aunt to me.”

 

Gerald and Lettice chuckle before Gerald replies, “Indeed I am, but I’m also a friend. You aren’t friends with Pheobe, and even if you were, you still wouldn’t be able to solve Gladys’ overbearing personality. She is who she is, and Pheobe has to learn how to make her way through life with it. Perhaps you will afford her a little freedom from Gladys by redecorating her pied-à-terre, so she can escape from under Glady’s overbearing shadow, even if the redecoration is not quite as Phoebe would have it. Even then, Phoebe will probably add her own personal touches to her new home over time. It’s only natural that she should.”

 

“Oh,” Lettice sighs heavily. “I suppose you’re right, Gerald.”

 

“Of course I’m right, Lettice darling. I’m always right.” he adds jokingly.

 

“Now don’t you start!” Lettice replies wearily before smiling as she recognises Gerald’s remark as a jest, teasing about Lady Gladys’ overbearing personality.

 

“Well, it sounds like you need a bit of cheering up, Lettice darling,” Gerald goes on as he places another slice of cheese on a biscuit.

 

“I could indeed, Gerald darling!”

 

“Well then, if you are a good girl, and apologise to Edith like I told you, like Cinderella you shall go to the ball!”

 

“Oh you do talk in riddles sometimes, Gerald darling! What on earth do you mean?”

 

“My birthday!” Gerald beams. “Come join me at Hattie’s down in Putney for my birthday!”

 

“You’re having your birthday at Hattie’s?” Lettice queries, her voice rising in surprise. “I thought we were going to the Café Royal****** to celebrate: my treat!”

 

“Now, now, be calm, Lettice darling! We are, but Hattie wants to throw a party for me on my birthday at Putney with Cyril, Charlie Dunnage and a few of the other chaps she has living with her in the house, so we’ll do that first, and then go to dinner at the Café Royal: your treat.”

 

“Well…” Lettice says warily. Her stomach flips every time Gerald mentions his lover, Cyril, an oboist who plays at various theatres in the West End and lives in the Putney home of Gerald’s friend Harriet Milford, who has turned her residence into a boarding house for theatrical homosexual men, not because she is in any way jealous of their relationship, but because she knows that Gerald being a homosexual carries great consequences should he be caught in flagrante with Cyril. Homosexuality is illegal******** and carries heavy penalties including prison sentences with hard labour, not to mention the shame and social ostracization that would follow any untoward revelations. It would mean the end of his fashion house and all his dreams.

 

Gerald misinterprets the look on his best friend’s face as being misgivings about the party. “Oh come on Lettice! Every time I’ve been spending the night with Cyril down in Putney, which has been quite a lot lately,” he confesses with a shy, yet happy smile. “I’ve been sneaking one or two bottles of champagne into his room, which he’s been stashing under the bed, so there will be plenty to drink, and Hattie is making me a birthday cake, so it will be a rather jolly party. You aren’t still imagining Hattie to be a usurper to you in my affections, are you Lettuce Leaf?”

 

“Don’t call me that Gerald! You know how I hate it!” scowls Lettice. “I’ll call you Mr. Buttons!” She threatens.

 

“You can call me what you like, Lettice darling, only please say you’ll come! You’re my best and oldest chum! It would make me so happy!”

 

“Oh very well, Gerald. Of course I’ll come.”

 

“Jolly good show, Lettice darling!” Gerald enthuses. “We’ll have a whizz of a time!”

 

*Harrod’s Meat and Fish Hall (the predecessor to today’s food hall) was opened in 1903. There was nothing like it in London at the time. It’s interior, conceived by Yorkshire Arts and Crafts ceramicist and artist William Neatby, was elaborately decorated from floor to ceiling with beautiful Art Nouveau tiles made by Royal Doulton, and a glass roof that flooded the space with light. Completed in nine weeks it featured ornate frieze tiles displaying pastoral scenes of sheep and fish, as well as colourful glazed tiles. By the 1920s, when this scene is set, the Meat and Fish Hall was at its zenith with so much produce on display and available to wealthy patrons that you could barely see the interior.

 

**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.

 

***To gird one’s loins: to prepare oneself to deal with a difficult or stressful situation, is likely a Hebraism, often used in the King James Bible (e.g., 2 Kings 4:29). Literally referred to the need to strap a belt around one's waist, i.e. when getting up, in order to avoid the cloak falling off; or otherwise before battle, to unimpede the legs for running.

 

****A pied-à-terre is a small flat, house, or room kept for occasional use.

 

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

 

******An agony aunt is a person, usually a woman, who gives advice to people with personal problems, especially in a regular magazine or newspaper article.

 

*******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.

 

********Prior to 1967 with the introduction of the Sexual Offences Act which decriminalised private homosexual acts between men aged over 21, homosexuality in England was illegal, and in the 1920s when this story is set, carried heavy penalties including prison sentences with hard labour. The law was not changed for Scotland until 1980, or for Northern Ireland until 1982.

 

Lettice’s fashionable Mayfair flat dining room is perhaps a little different to what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures I have collected over time.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The silver tray of biscuits have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. The empty wine glasses and the glass bowl in the centre of the table are also 1:12 artisan miniatures all made of hand spun and blown glass. They are made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The vase is especially fine. If you look closely you will see that it is decorated with flower patterns made up of fine threads of glass. The cream roses in the vase were also hand made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. The Art Deco dinner plates are part of a much larger set I acquired from a dollhouse suppliers in Shanghai. The cutlery set came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. The candlesticks were made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.

 

In the background on the console table stand some of Lettice’s precious artisan purchases from the Portland Gallery in Soho. The silver drinks set is made by artisan Clare Bell at the Clare Bell Brass Works in Maine, in the United States. Each goblet is only one centimetre in height and the decanter at the far end is two- and three-quarter centimetres with the stopper inserted. Lettice’s Art Deco ‘Modern Woman’ figure is actually called ‘Christianne’ and was made and hand painted by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland. ‘Christianne’ is based on several Art Deco statues and is typical of bronze and marble statues created at that time for the luxury market in the buoyant 1920s.

 

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

 

The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug hand made by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney, Australia. The paintings on the walls are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States. The geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.

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

 

Today however we are northwest of Lettice’s flat, in the working-class London suburb of Harlesden where Edith, Lettice’s maid, grew up. She is visiting her parents as she often does on her Wednesdays off. Edith’s father, George, works at the McVitie and Price* biscuit factory in Harlesden as a Line Manager, and her mother, Ada, takes in laundry at home. They live in a small, two storey brick terrace house which opens out directly onto the street, and is far removed from the grandeur of Lettice’s Mayfair flat, but has always been a cosy and welcoming home for Edith. Usually even before she walks through the glossy black painted front door, Edith can smell the familiar scent of a mixture of Lifebuoy Soap, Borax and Robin’s Starch, which means her mother is washing the laundry of others wealthier than she in the terrace’s kitchen at the rear of the house. Yet with her father’s promotion, Edith’s mother is only laundering a few days a week now, yet even though today is not a day for laundering, there is work to be done for Ada’s next laundry day. So we find ourselves in the Watsford’s scullery at the back of the terrace behind the kitchen, which like most Victoria era homes, also serves as the wash house.

 

Like all the houses in the terrace, the Watsford’s scullery has an old square-sided ceramic sink in the corner, set on bricks, joined to the same pipe as the one directly behind the wall in the corner of the kitchen, however the small room is dominated by the large built-in washing cauldron made of bricks, set above its own wood fire furnace with a copper cauldron in its centre. The distemper on the walls of the scullery are tinted ever so slightly blue, a traditional colour for laundries, as it made whites look even whiter. Around it stand wicker baskets for laundry, a dolly-peg** and a very heavy black painted mangle*** with wooden rollers, whilst on its top a panoply of laundry items stand, including an enamelled water jug, bowls, irons, a washboard and various household laundry products. The room smells comfortingly clean: scents of soap and starch that have seeped into every fibre of the space.

 

“Hand me that bar of Hudson’s Soap**** will you, Edith love.” Ada says to her daughter as she takes an old enamelled bowl and places it with a heavy metallic clunk on the top of the old red brick copper*****. Reaching for a silver grater she says with a resigned groan, “Time to make a batch of soap flakes******.”

 

“Oh, let me do that, Mum.” Edith says kindly, grasping the smooth, rounded top of the grater, just before her mother does.

 

“Ahh…thank you love.” Ada says gratefully, sinking down onto a small, long and worn wooden stool surrounded by baskets and tubs of soiled linen.

 

“You just keep sorting old Widow Hounslow’s bloomers.” Edith says with a cheeky smirk as she pulls out a bar of Hudson’s yellow soap.

 

“Now don’t spoil your generosity by saying nasty things about poor Mrs. Hounslow.” Ada cautions her daughter with a wagging finger.

 

“Pshaw! Poor my foot.” Edith pulls a face at the mention of the Watsford’s landlady, and her former employer, the wealthy and odious old widow draped in black jet and mourning barathea******* whom she grew up hearing about regularly, and seeing on the rare occasions she would deign to stop by to collect their rent in person, rather than her rent collector.

 

“You know Mrs. Hounslow’s husband died a hero in the siege of Mafeking in the Boer War.”

 

“And neither you, nor she will ever let any of us forget it, Mum.” Edith mutters, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

 

“Now you know I won’t have a bad word said about her, Edith.” Ada gives her daughter a warning look. “Shame on you! She’s helped pay for many a meal in this house with her sixpences and shillings for her washing over the years.”

 

“Which she then takes back in exorbitant rent.”

 

“Exorbitant, is it now?” Ada scoffs. “Such fancy words, Miss Edith Watsford.”

 

“It means inflated or excessive, Mum, and you know it.” Edith counters. “She charges too much for this old place and she spends nary a penny on maintaining it. Look at this poor old thing.” She taps the crumbly red brick of the laundry copper dust from its limestone dressing coming off on her fingers in a light white powder. “I bet it hasn’t been touched by old Widow Hounslow since before I was born.”

 

“That’s because she doesn’t need it.” Ada says with a smile, looking affectionately at her laundry copper. “She was well made in the first place.”

 

“Well, whether it was well made or not, there are other things around here that old Widow Hounslow could spend some of your hard-earned money on.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like fixing up the plumbing, block the draughts around the windows.” Edith begins. “Maybe even install electricity.”

 

“Now I’m not having that put in this house!” Ada gasps. “You can’t trust it. What would I do with electricity anyway?”

 

“Well, you wouldn’t have to toast bread with a toasting fork over the grate. You could have a manual electric toaster********, or an electric ‘Smoothwell’ iron*********, like we have at Cavendish Mews, for a start.”

 

“As if I could afford either one of those contraptions!” Ada jeers with a sniff. “Not that I’d want one.”

 

“Well, you could at least have an electric light in the kitchen, so you and Dad could read in comfort.”

 

“Which we do quite successfully by oil lamp, just the same as we have been doing for many years now, thank you very much.”

 

“It’s not the same, Mum.” Edith takes the bar of soap and begins to run it up and down the grater, producing the first few shavings of soap as they fall into the bottom of the enamel bowl.

 

“It’s the devil’s work, that electricity!” Ada mutters, picking up a pillowcase from a basket and moving it to an old tub sitting at her feet. “You see the sparks come flying off the wires of the trams********** that run between Shepherd’s Bush and Hammersmith.”

 

“You ride it, nonetheless, Mum,” Edith replies with a smirk. She stops grating and gives her mother a knowing look. “I know you do, so it’s no good trying to pretend you don’t. The world is changing, Mum.”

 

“Those soap flakes aren’t going to magically make themselves, you know,” Ada nods at Edith’s still hands holding the bar of soap and the grater over the bowl. “Electricity or not.”

 

Edith sighs resignedly as she resumes making soap flakes. “So Mum, I saw Frank the other day,”

 

“Of course you did, Edith love.” Ada laughs good naturedly as she observes her daughter’s cheeks flush with pleasure at the mention of her beau. “And how is our young Frank?”

 

“He’s quite well, Mum. He was setting up Mr. Willison’s shop window,” Edith remarks excitedly.

 

“Oh, was he now? That must have made Frank very proud, getting to do something else for Mr. Willison, and being trusted with an important job like the front window.” Ada remarks cheerfully as she looks around for her brush, having spied some dried mud on the hem of one of Mrs. Hounslow’s petticoats.

 

“Oh yes, Mum.” Edith runs the bar of soap up and down the grater, sending a flurry of dusty flakes cascading down into the bowl as she speaks. “Mr. and Mrs. Willison had gone off to see their daughter receive an award of some kind at her school, so they let Frank do the window in their absence. Visual merchandising, he calls it.”

 

“Does he now?” Ada scrubs away the dried mud, revealing a shadow of brown stain beneath it on the linen.

 

“Oh it looked ever so splendid, Mum! Packets of tea, tins of golden syrup and black treacle, jars of jam and marmalade and colourful bunting.”

 

“Sounds like our Mr. Lovegrove down the High Street could learn a thing or two from Frank.” Ada remarks, more than a little tongue in cheek, smiling with delight at how proud her daughter is of her beau’s accomplishments as she brushes a loose strand of mousy brown hair streaked with silver that has escaped her bun, behind her ear.

 

“Well, I reckon he could, and all, Mum. There was even a pyramid of biscuit tins. Of course, McVities and Price was on the top.”

 

“So I should think, Edith love.” Ada remarks seriously. “There are no finer biscuits all of England than the ones your Dad keeps his eyes on. Fit for the King they are!” She breaks her seriousness and laughs jovially. “Well, it seems your young Frank is coming up in the world of business. I’m happy for him, Edith love.”

 

“I’m happy for him too, Mum. Guess what the window display was of, Mum?”

 

Ada considers her daughter’s question, albeit not seriously, for a few moments as she rummages through a tub of sheets, silently counting the number and keeping it in her head to work out what she will charge for all the laundry later. “I’m sure I couldn’t begin to hazard a guess, Edith love.”

 

“He was doing a window to advertise the British Empire Exhibition*********** at Wembley************.”

 

“Oh yes! Your Dad and I were talking about that, just the other day.”

 

“Really Mum?” Edith stops grating soap flakes for a moment.

 

“Yes, your Dad was reading me an article about it from the newspaper, by lamplight I might add,” Ada adds in pointedly at the end. “As I was doing my darning, also by lamplight.”

 

“Yes, yes, Mum. I take your point.” Edith rolls her eyes again.

 

“Well, it all sounds rather splendid, I must say, Edith love.”

 

“I think it will be quite a spectacle,” Edith muses. “I’ve read in Miss Lettice’s newspapers that there will be fifty-six displays and pavilions from around the Empire! Imagine that!”

 

“I hope she doesn’t catch you reading those newspapers of hers, Edith love.” Ada cautions her daughter.

 

“Oh, Miss Lettice doesn’t mind.” Edith replies breezily. “In fact, she encourages me to read them after she’s finished. She says that we women should all be aware of what is going on in the world, especially working women like me.”

 

“Does she indeed? It seems to me that your Miss Chetwynd has a lot of interesting ideas about what young women like you, should or shouldn’t be doing.”

 

“Oh she does, Mum! She’s ever so modern and forward thinking.” Edith drops the grater with a clatter into the enamel bowl and holds her arms out expansively, the half grated bar of yellow soap still in her right fist. “She says that if women want to go up in the world, and be taken seriously, then we need to keep abreast of what’s happening in the world, to prove that we aren’t stupid. Miss Lettice even says it won’t be too long before women like us will have the vote.*************”

 

“Well, I’m not at all sure that I agree with all Miss Chetwynd’s ideas, and I can’t say as I particularly like your head being turned by her talk about women’s suffrage************** and the like.” Ada sighs heavily. “But then again, she is one of those young flappers your Dad and I read about in the papers, and they don’t have any respect for the likes of your father’s or my opinion.”

 

“Oh, Miss Lettice isn’t like that at all, Mum. If she were sitting here, I’m sure she’d be ever so polite and listen to what you have to say.”

 

“Chance would be a fine thing!” Ada laughs, sitting back on her stool. “A fine lady like Miss Chetwynd in my scullery!” After she finishes chortling, she goes on, “Anyway, listening is one thing, Edith love. Doing is quite another. Besides, I’m sure that between the encouragement of your Miss Chetwynd and young Frank, you’ll do just as you like, with never a thought for what I consider proper for a young lady in your position.”

 

“Mum, as I said before, the world is changing.”

 

“I arrest my case. Well, the world may be changing in some respects, but it isn’t changing here in my laundry this very minute.”

 

“Perhaps not, Mum.” Edith concedes. “But Dad believes in women’s suffrage.”

 

“Your Dad,” Ada scoffs. “Believes in women’s suffrage so long as it doesn’t affect him getting his tea, nice and hot, when he comes home for it, Edith love.”

 

“Well, thinking of the world,” Edith says brightly in an effort to steer the conversation away from things she and her mother don’t necessarily agree on. “There will be palaces for industry, and art.”

 

“Where, Edith love?”

 

“At the British Empire Exhibition, Mum! Each colony will have its own pavilion to reflect its local culture and architecture.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Ada chuckles. “It will probably be quite a thing, getting to see all the countries of the world without even having to leave London.”

 

“Well, that’s what I wanted to ask you, Mum, well you and Dad really.”

 

“What’s that, Edith love?”

 

“Well, Frank and I were talking, and we want to go and see the British Empire Exhibition,” Edith says tentatively. “And we thought, well, we were hoping, that you might like to come with us.”

 

“Oh what a lovely though, Edith love! Yes, I’m sure your Dad would love to go, and I know I would. Thank you!”

 

“Oh hoorah!” Edith drops the bar of soap on the edge of the copper and claps her soapy hands. “That will be ripping! We can all go! Frank is going to ask Granny McTavish.”

 

“Well, that will be nice, Edith love. I’m sure she’ll enjoy it, and your Dad and I would love to see her again.”

 

“We’ll make a day of it!” Edith says excitedly.

 

“How long is the British Empire Exhibition on for? I can’t remember.”

 

“It started last month, and it’s on until October.” Edith answers as she picks up the soap and grater again. “Why do you ask, Mum?”

 

“Well, I thought that maybe, if you and Frank were willing to wait, we’ll go when Bert gets his shore leave in June.”

 

“Oh.” Ediths face falls. “Oh, I’m sure Frank won’t mind.” She goes on a little less enthusiastically. “It will be lovely and summery then anyway: the best weather to enjoy all the wonders of the British Empire.”

 

“What’s the matter, Edith love?” Ada asks as she watches her daughter’s face cloud over.

 

“Do you think Bert would mind paying for his own ticket?”

 

“What a peculiar question to ask, Edith love.” Ada shakes her head. “I’m sure he won’t. What brought that out?”

 

“Well, its just that Frank and I thought we could pay for Granny McTavish, you and Dad, but I don’t know if we could stretch to paying for Bert too.”

 

“It’s good of you to buy a ticket for an old woman like Mrs. McTavish, but you mustn’t pay for us, Edith love! You Dad and I can buy our own tickets.”

 

“Oh, but Frank and I wanted to treat you.”

 

“You treat us to more than enough as it is, Edith love! Just look at that wonderful turkey you bought us for Christmas. No, you let us pay for ourselves, and save your money. You should be saving every penny of your wages that you can for when you and Frank have your own home.”

 

“Oh Mum! You’re as bad as Hilda!” Edith flaps her hand dismissively at her mother, swatting the idea of marriage away. “She keeps saying Frank will propose to me any day now.”

 

“And I shouldn’t wonder if he won’t, Edith love.” Ada replies sagely. “He obviously loves you. It’s only natural.”

 

“Well yes, but he’s not proposing yet.”

 

“But he will, Edith love, and when he does, it will be good to have some money behind you. Your Dad and I can help pay for your wedding breakfast***************, and I can help you sew your wedding dress and that of your bridesmaids, but you’ll need money to set up house together.”

 

“But Mum…”

 

“Don’t ‘but Mum’, me, my girl!” Ada wags a finger admonishingly at her daughter. “You want to talk about women’s rights? Well, it’s well within my right to say that your Dad and I will pay for our own tickets. You keep telling me that I don’t need to be doing as much laundry as I do, since your Dad got his promotion to line manager at McVities.”

 

“Well you don’t, Mum.”

 

“But that pin money**************** I make from it helps with the housekeeping, and enables me to pay for the occasional treat, like a trip to the British Empire Exhibition at Wembley.” Ada folds her arms akimbo and the steeliness in her jaw tells Edith that this is not a point she can win her mother over on. So that’s settled then. Your Dad and I will come, and Bert too, but we’ll pay our own way, thank you very much.”

 

“Oh, alright Mum.” Edith acquiesces.

 

“Good girl.” Ada purrs. “Are you still keeping your wages aside?”

 

“Yes Mum. I keep them in that tin you gave me for it*****************, when I went to work for old Widow Hounslow.”

 

“Good girl. You just keep putting any spare aside, and it will add up nicely, and be ready for the day that you do get married and need to set up house. Things may be changing in this world, but setting up home isn’t getting any cheaper.” Ada nods shrewdly. “You mark my words.”

 

*McVitie's (Originally McVitie and Price) is a British snack food brand owned by United Biscuits. The name derives from the original Scottish biscuit maker, McVitie and Price, Ltd., established in 1830 on Rose Street in Edinburgh, Scotland. The company moved to various sites in the city before completing the St. Andrews Biscuit Works factory on Robertson Avenue in the Gorgie district in 1888. The company also established one in Glasgow and two large manufacturing plants south of the border, in Heaton Chapel, Stockport, and Harlesden, London (where Edith’s father works). McVitie and Price's first major biscuit was the McVitie's Digestive, created in 1892 by a new young employee at the company named Alexander Grant, who later became the managing director of the company. The biscuit was given its name because it was thought that its high baking soda content served as an aid to food digestion. The McVitie's Chocolate Homewheat Digestive was created in 1925. Although not their core operation, McVitie's were commissioned in 1893 to create a wedding cake for the royal wedding between the Duke of York and Princess Mary, who subsequently became King George V and Queen Mary. This cake was over two metres high and cost one hundred and forty guineas. It was viewed by 14,000 and was a wonderful publicity for the company. They received many commissions for royal wedding cakes and christening cakes, including the wedding cake for Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip and Prince William and Catherine Middleton. Under United Biscuits McVitie's holds a Royal Warrant from Queen Elizabeth II.

 

**A dolly-peg, also known as a dolly-legs, peggy, or maiden, in different parts of Britain, was a contraption used in the days before washing machines to cloth in a wash-tub, dolly-tub, possing-tub or laundry copper. Appearing like a milking stool on a T-bar broomstick handle, it was sunk into the tub of clothes and boiling water and then used to move the water, laundry and soap flakes around in the tub to wash the clothes.

 

***A mangle (British) or wringer (American) is a mechanical laundry aid consisting of two rollers in a sturdy frame, connected by cogs and (in its home version) powered by a hand crank or later by electricity. While the appliance was originally used to squeeze water from wet laundry, today mangles are used to press or flatten sheets, tablecloths, kitchen towels, or clothing and other laundry.

 

****Robert Spear Hudson (1812 – 1884) was an English businessman who popularised dry soap powder. His company was very successful thanks to both an increasing demand for soap and his unprecedented levels of advertising. In 1837 he opened a shop in High Street, West Bromwich. He started making soap powder in the back of this shop by grinding the coarse bar soap of the day with a mortar and pestle. Before that people had had to make soap flakes themselves. This product became the first satisfactory and commercially successful soap powder. Despite his title of "Manufacturer of Dry Soap" he never actually manufactured soap but bought the raw soap from William Gossage of Widnes. The product was popular with his customers and the business expanded rapidly. In the 1850s he employed ten female workers in his West Bromwich factory. His business was further helped by the removal of tax on soap in 1853. In time the factory was too small and too far from the source of his soap so in 1875 he moved his main works to Bank Hall, Liverpool, and his head office to Bootle, while continuing production at West Bromwich. Eventually the business in Merseyside employed about 1,000 people and Hudson was able to further develop his flourishing export trade to Australia and New Zealand. The business flourished both because of the rapidly increasing demand for domestic soap products and because of Hudson's unprecedented levels of advertising. He arranged for striking posters to be produced by professional artists. The slogan "A little of Hudson's goes a long way" appeared on the coach that ran between Liverpool and York. Horse, steam and electric tramcars bore an advertisement saying "For Washing Clothes. Hudson's soap. For Washing Up". Hudson was joined in the business by his son Robert William who succeeded to the business on his father's death. In 1908 he sold the business to Lever Brothers who ran it as a subsidiary enterprise during which time the soap was manufactured at Crosfield's of Warrington. During this time trade names such as Rinso and Omo were introduced. The Hudson name was retained until 1935 when, during a period of rationalisation, the West Bromwich and Bank Hall works were closed.

 

*****A wash copper, copper boiler or simply copper is a wash house boiler, generally made of galvanised iron, though the best sorts are made of copper. In the inter-war years, they came in two types. The first is built into a brickwork furnace and was found in older houses. The second was the free-standing or portable type, it had an enamelled metal exterior that supported the inner can or copper. The bottom part was adapted to hold a gas burner, a high pressure oil or an ordinary wood or coal fire. Superior models could have a drawing-off tap, and a steam-escape pipe that lead into the flue. It was used for domestic laundry. Linen and cotton were placed in the copper and were boiled to whiten them. Clothes were agitated within the copper with a washing dolly, a vertical stick with either a metal cone or short wooden legs on it. After washing, the laundry was lifted out of the boiling water using the washing dolly or a similar device, and placed on a strainer resting on a laundry tub or similar container to capture the wash water and begin the drying and cooling process. The laundry was then dried with a mangle and then line-dried. Coppers could also be used in cooking, used to boil puddings such as a traditional Christmas pudding.

 

*****In the days before commercial washing machines and soap powder, soap flakes were often made by grating bars of washing soap into fine flakes. Soap flakes were used for a variety of purposes including bathing, laundering, and washing, including hair washing. Pure soap flakes were used alone or sometimes combined with other natural cleaning products such as baking soda, borax or washing soda to make a variety of more gregarious and specific cleaners. Soap flakes whilst labour intensive to make were an economical cleaning agent, and are still used today.

 

*******Barathea is a fine woollen cloth, sometimes mixed with silk or cotton, used chiefly for coats and suits. It was very popular during the Victorian era, and was often used to make widows weeds because it was good quality and would survive regular wear during the obligatory year of deep mourning and period of half mourning thereafter.

 

********With the arrival of wood and coal stoves in the 1880’s, a new toasting method was needed. This led to a tin and wire pyramid-shaped device which was the predecessor to what we know as the modern toaster. The bread was placed inside, and the device was heated on the stove. Fire was the source of heat for toasting bread until 1905 when the engineer Albert Marsh created a nickel and chromium composite, called Nichrome. Marsh’s invention was easily shaped into wires or strips and was low in electrical conductivity. Within months, other inventors were using Nichrome to produce electric toasters. The first successful version was brought out by Frank Shailor of General Electric in America in 1909. The D-12 model consisted of a cage-like device with a single heating element. It could only toast one side of the bread at once; the bread had to be flipped by hand to toast both sides. Better models soon followed, some with sliding drawers, others with mechanical ways to turn the bread, but the real innovation was the automatic pop-up toaster, conceived in 1919 by the American mechanic Charles Strite. The incorporated timer shut off the heating element and released a pop-up spring when the slice of toast was done. In 1926, the Waters-Genter Company used a redesigned version of the Strite’s toaster; it was called the “Toastmaster”. With a triple-loop logo inspired by its heating elements, it became part of the modern age of kitchen appliances. By the end of 1926 Charles Strite’s Toastmaster was available around the world, and became a standard in most upper-class and middle-class homes in Britain by the 1930s.

 

*********Originally sold in London’s Harrods department store in the early 1920s, the English Electric Premier System “Smoothwell” iron with a rubber, non-conducting handle, was supplied with its own trivet. Made in Birmingham, the ''Smoothwell Premier System'' appliance was patented as a revolutionary invention, powered by electricity. Many middle-class houses built for electricity after the war had a socket installed in the ceiling next to the light, allowing an electric iron such as the “Smoothwell” to be plugged in, allowing the modern Jazz Age housewife to iron over her kitchen table whether by day or night.

 

**********London United Tramways (LUT) began London's first electric tram service in July 1901. They electrified lines between Shepherd's Bush, Hammersmith, Acton and Kew Bridge. By 1906, ten municipal systems had been set up and by 1914 London operated the largest tram network in Europe. At their peak, over 3,000 trams carried a billion passengers a year over 366 miles of track. After the First World War tramways began to decline as the motor bus competed for passengers. By the late 1920s, the new buses offered higher standards of comfort, while the pre-war trams were shabby and in need of modernisation.

 

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

 

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

 

*************In 1924 when this story is set, not every woman in Britain had the right to vote. In 1918 the Representation of the People Act was passed which allowed women over the age of thirty who met a property qualification to vote. Although eight and a half million women met this criteria, it was only about two-thirds of the total population of women in Britain. It was not until the Equal Franchise Act of 1928 that women over twenty-one were able to vote and women finally achieved the same voting rights as men. This act increased the number of women eligible to vote to fifteen million.

 

**************Suffrage refers to a person's right to vote in a political election. Voting allows members of society to take part in deciding government policies that affect them. Women's suffrage refers to the right of women to vote in an election.

 

***************A wedding breakfast is a feast given to the newlyweds and guests after the wedding, making it equivalent to a wedding reception that serves a meal. The phrase is still used in British English, as opposed to the description of reception, which is American in derivation. Before the beginning of the Twentieth Century they were traditionally held in the morning, but this fashion began to change after the Great War when they became a luncheon. Regardless of when it was, a wedding breakfast in no way looked like a typical breakfast, with fine savoury food and sweet cakes being served. Wedding breakfasts were at their most lavish in the Edwardian era through to the Second World War.

 

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

 

*****************Prior to the Second World War, working-class people didn’t use banks, which were the privilege of the upper and middle-classes. For a low paid domestic like Edith, what little she saved she would most likely keep in a tin or jar, secreted away somewhere to avoid anyone stealing what she had managed to keep aside.

 

This cheerful laundry scene is not all you may suppose it to be, for the fact is that all the items are from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in thus tableau include:

 

The red brick copper in the centre of the image is a very cleverly made 1:12 artisan miniature from an unnamed artist. Believe it of not, it is made of balsa wood and then roughened and painted to look like bricks. I acquitted it from Doreen Jeffries’ Miniature World in the United Kingdom.

 

The great wrought mangle with its real wooden rollers is made of white metal by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.

 

The dolly-peg is an antique Victorian dollhouse miniature and it’s tub is sitting behind it. I am just lucky that something from around 1860 just happens to be the correct scale to fit with my 1:12 artisan miniatures.

 

There is a panoply of items used in pre-war laundry preparation on the white painted surface of the copper. There are two enamel rather worn and beaten looking bowls and an enamel jug 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 Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom. The grater and the two small irons also come from there. The boxes of Borax, Hudson’s Soap and Robin’s Starch and the bottle of bleach in the green glass were made with great attention to detail on the labels by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.

 

Before the invention of aerosol spray starch, the product of choice in many homes of all classes was Robin starch. Robin Starch was a stiff white powder like cornflour to which water had to be added. When you made up the solution, it was gloopy, sticky with powdery lumps, just like wallpaper paste or grout. The garment was immersed evenly in that mixture and then it had to be smoothed out. All the stubborn starchy lumps had to be dissolved until they were eliminated – a metal spoon was good for bashing at the lumps to break them down. Robins Starch was produced by Reckitt and Sons who were a leading British manufacturer of household products, notably starch, black lead, laundry blue, and household polish.

 

On the little set if drawers on the wall, which came from Marie and Mick’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom, stands a box of Jumbo Blue Bag and some Imp Soap, also made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.

 

Reckitt and Sons who were a leading British manufacturer of household products, notably starch, black lead, laundry blue, and household polish also produced Jumbo Blue, which was a whitener added to a wash to help delay the yellowing effect of older cotton. Rekitt and Sons were based in Kingston upon Hull. Isaac Reckitt began business in Hull in 1840, and his business became a private company Isaac Reckitt and Sons in 1879, and a public company in 1888. The company expanded through the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries. It merged with a major competitor in the starch market J. and J. Colman in 1938 to form Reckitt and Colman.

 

Imp Washer Soap was manufactured by T. H. Harris and Sons Limited, a soap manufacturers, tallow melters and bone boiler. Introduced after the Great War, Imp Washer Soap was a cheaper alternative to the more popular brands like Sunlight, Hudsons and Lifebuoy soaps. Imp Washer Soap was advertised as a free lathering and economical cleaner. T. H. Harris and Sons Limited also sold Mazo soap energiser which purported to improve the quality of cleaning power of existing soaps.

 

The rusted metal washing tub that is full of white linens is an artisan miniature and comes from Amber’s Miniatures in the United States.

 

The stack of wood logs behind the mangle, used to feed the copper boiler, came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop, as does the basket hanging from the wall, the washboard and the airing rack.

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Due to Sunday engineering works, no Trans Pennine Express services were running between Manchester and Liverpool. This resulted in a shuttle service between York and Scarborough, to supplement the through services across the Pennines to and from Manchester. 68 024 'Centaur', having arrived at Scarborough with the 14.00 from York, sits under the station roof prior to providing the power for the 15.34 return service.

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 to the west of London, in nearby Buckinghamshire, at Dorrington House, a smart Jacobean manor house of the late 1600s built for a wealthy merchant, situated in High Wycombe, where Lettice’s elder sister, Lalage (known to everyone in the family by the diminutive Lally), resides with her husband Charles Lanchenbury and their three children, Harrold, Annabelle and baby Piers. Situated within walking distance of the market town’s main square, the elegant red brick house with its high-pitched roof and white painted sash windows still feels private considering its close proximity to the centre of the town thanks to an elegant and restrained garden surrounding it, which is enclosed by a high red brick wall.

 

Lettice is nursing a broken heart. Lettice’s beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, had organised a romantic dinner at the Savoy* for he and Lettice to celebrate his birthday. However, when Lettice arrived, she was confronted not with the smiling face of her beau, but the haughty and cruel spectre of his mother, the Duchess of Walmsford, Lady Zinnia. Lady Zinnia, and Selwyn’s Uncle Bertrand had been attempting to marry him off to his cousin, 1923 debutante Pamela Fox-Chavers. Lady Zinnia had, up until that moment been snubbing Lettice, so Selwyn and Lettice arranged for Lettice to attend as many London Season events as possible where Selwyn and Pamela were also in attendance so that Lettice and Selwyn could spend time together, and at the same time make their intentions so well known that Lady Zinnia wouldn’t be able to avoid Lettice any longer. Zinnia is a woman who likes intrigue and revenge, and the revenge she launched upon Lettice that evening at the Savoy was bitterly harsh and painful. With a cold and calculating smile Lady Zinna announced that she had packed Selwyn off to Durban in South Africa for a year. She made a pact with her son: if he went away for a year, a year during which he agreed neither to see, nor correspond with Lettice, if he comes back and doesn’t feel the same way about her as he did when he left, he agreed that he will marry Pamela, just as Bertrand and Lady Zinnia planned. If however, he still feels the same way about Lettice when he returns, Lady Zinnia agreed that she would concede and will allow him to marry her.

 

Leaving London by train that very evening, Lettice returned home to Glynes, where she stayed for a week, moving numbly about the familiar rooms of the grand Georgian country house, reading books from her father’s library distractedly to pass the time, whilst her father fed her, her favourite Scottish shortbreads in a vain effort to cheer her up. However, rather than assuage her broken heart, her father’s ministrations only served to make matters worse as she grew even more morose. It was from the most unlikely of candidates, her mother Lady Sadie, with whom Lettice has always had a fraught relationship, that Lettice received the best advice, which was to stop feeling sorry for herself and get on with her life: keep designing interiors, keep shopping and most importantly, keep attending social functions where there are plenty of press photographers. “You may not be permitted to write to Selwyn,” Lady Sadie said wisely. ‘But Zinnia said nothing about the newspapers not writing about your plight or your feelings on your behest. Let them tell Selwyn that you still love him and are waiting for him. They get the London papers in Durban just as much as they get them here, and Zinnia won’t be able to stop a lovesick and homesick young man flipping to the society pages as he seeks solace in the faces of familiar names and faces, and thus seeing you and reading your words of commitment to him that you share through the newspaper men. Tell them that you are waiting patiently for Selwyn’s return.”

 

Since then, Lettice has been trying to follow her mother’s advice and has thrown herself into the merry dance of London’s social round of dinners, dances and balls in the lead up to the festive season. However, even she could only keep this up for so long, and was welcomed home with open and loving arms by her family for Christmas and the New Year. On New Year’s Eve, Lally, sitting next to Lettice, suggested that she spend a few extra weeks resting and recuperating with her in Buckinghamshire before returning to London and trying to get on with her life. Lettice happily agreed, and since arriving at Dorrington House with her sister and brother-in-law, she has enjoyed being quiet, spending quality time with her niece and nephews in the nursery, strolling the gardens with her sister or simply curling up in a window seat and reading.

 

This morning we find ourselves in one of Dorrington House’s ten guest bedrooms: a pretty and cosy one overlooking the elegant rear garden in which Lettice has been accommodated since her arrival from Glynes. Lettice lies beneath the beautifully embroidered satin comforter, luxuriating in the joy of being allowed to have breakfast in bed at her sister’s house. If she were at home in Glynes, there is no way known that her mother would let her take her breakfast in her boudoir, never mind in bed, since Lettice is unmarried and therefore undeserving of such a privilege**. She sighs contentedly as she listens to the blackbirds and robins chirping in the greenery beyond the sash window of her comfortably appointed room. In the hearth a fire, lit for her by one of Lally’s lower house maids long before Lettice was awake, crackles cheerfully, its heat warming the room enough that Lettice may sit up against a nest of her pillows and have her bare arms exposed without feeling cold. In the distance she can hear the clock on the landing ticking away the minutes and hours of the day, and still further away the muffled sound of a childish squeal indicates that Lettice’s nephew and niece are awake and playing in the day nursery with their nanny. Lettice sighs again and stretches her legs beneath the covers, her left foot connecting with the wooden breakfast tray placed at the foot of the bed by Lally’s cook, Mrs. Sawyer, nudging it slightly, causing the breakfast china and the ornate Indian silver teapot on it to rattle in protest at being pushed out of the way. She picks up a current copy of Vogue that has been sent to her from London and silently peruses the latest frocks from Paris whilst she contemplates reaching down and taking up her breakfast tray to put on her lap to commence her breakfast, but just the thought of doing so seems like too much of an effort. So, she casts a desultory gaze over the newest designs by Jeanne Lanvin*** instead and dreams about dancing with Selwyn arrayed in such a gown.

 

As she admires a robe de style**** design in black with embroidered red poppies, Lettice’s morning daydreams are interrupted by a gentle tapping at her door.

 

Quickly tossing the copy of Vogue aside, Lettice snatches up her pale pink bed jacket trimmed in marabou feathers from the other side of the large bed, and drapes it across her bare shoulders and arms as the tapping begins for a second time. “Yes?” she asks as calmly as possible.

 

The door opens and Lally pokes her head around it. “It’s only me, Tice darling. May I come in?”

 

“Lally!” Lettice exclaims as she shuffles herself into a more upright position against the nest of pillows behind her. “Yes, of course! Do, do come in, darling.”

 

“Thank you.” Lally replies quietly, slipping into her sister’s room and closing the door behind her.

 

Lally looks around what she and Charles call the ‘Chinese Bedroom’ because of all the Eighteenth Century chinoiserie furnishings filling it, still unused to the best guest bedroom in the house being occupied. Traces of her little sister lie about everywhere. Her travelling set of brushes and a mirror sit on the dressing table’s surface, along with bottles of Lettice’s favourite perfumes and a selection of her cosmetics. A blue hatbox sits against the Chinese dressing screen with the hat Lettice wore to the wedding of Mary, Princess Royal***** to Viscount Lascelles in 1922 sitting atop it. Her peacock blue embroidered robe hangs from the end of the screen, whilst a row of dainty shoes sit just behind it, the latter obviously organised into neat order by one of the housemaids, since Lettice is not known for the organisation of her own wardrobe. The room is filled with the comforting fug of sleep intermixed with the scent of woodsmoke and roses brought in especially for Lettice from the Dorrington House greenhouse. And there, on the left side of the bed is Lettice, draped in her delicate bedjacket, her golden tresses spilling freely across the pillows behind her.

 

“I hope you don’t mind me popping in like this.” Lally says a little defensively. “Oh, you haven’t touched your breakfast.” She observes the undisturbed pot of tea, hard boiled egg, triangle of toast, square of butter from the home farm and orange from the Dorrington House orangery******. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Oh it’s fine, Lally, and yes,” Lettice lurches towards the breakfast tray, dragging it across the orange and yellow embroidered flowers of the counterpane towards her. “Breakfast is perfect. I was just about to start. I was just so engrossed in my latest copy of Vogue.”

 

“I see.” Lally purrs with a satisfied smile. “I see you received your post this morning then.”

 

“Yes, thank you Lally.” Lettice indicates with an open hand to the two copies of Vogue as well as a card sent down from London sitting atop a silver salver next to a silver letter opener near the raised mound of her feet beneath the covers.

 

“I received some post this morning too.” Lally admits, holding up a postcard featuring an idealised photographic scene of a couple in a donkey cart.

 

“Not a postcard from Charles, opining about me having breakfast abed, surely? He and Lord Lachenbury only left for India a few days ago.”

 

“Oh!” Lally says, laughing as she looks at the postcard. “No! No, Charles and Lord Lachenbury will still be en route abord the P&O*******. No, it will be ages before the arrive in Bombay.”

 

“Then what is it?” Lettice enquires.

 

“It’s an invitation for the two of us to attend a luncheon party at Mrs. Alsop’s down at Shalstone Cottage.”

 

“That sounds rather dull. A cottage? Who is Mrs. Alsop, Lally?”

 

“Head of the local branch of the WI********.” Lally pulls a face. “She’s a dreadful gossip, and rather a bore, I’m afraid. I can say you’re indisposed if you like, but as treasurer of the WI, I had better go.”

 

“Well,” Lettice says with a sigh, reaching down to the silver salver near the foot of the bed and snatching up the card from atop its envelope. “Even if I didn’t want to come, I’d go to support you, Lally. However, you may have to pass on my excuses anyway.” She holds the card out to her elder sister.

 

“What is it, Tice?”

 

“It’s from Aunt Egg.” Lettice wags the card in her sister’s direction. “Read it.”

 

Approaching the bed, Lally accepts the card from her sister. She smiles and snorts in amusement as she stares at the stylised gilt decorated Art Nouveau card featuring a woman in a long russet coloured tea gown facing away from the viewer, her old fashioned upswept hairstyle with its topknot clearly a feature of the design. “God bless Aunt Egg. Anyone would think she was living in 1904 not 1924.”

 

“I know.” agrees Lettice with a smile as she starts buttering her toast, the crisp scrape of her knife against the slice cutting through the air.

 

“She’s going to leave you all her jewellery, you know, Tice.” Lally says with a knowing look.

 

“Oh!” Lettice scoffs, waving her sister’s remark away dismissively with a wave of her hand. “She teases all of us with her flippant remarks about her jewellery. No, she plays her hand close to her chest.”

 

“But you’re the most like her, Tice: the most artistic. I’m just like all the other Chetwynd cousins – a rather pedestrian country squire’s wife who attends luncheons at the behest of the head of the WI – unlike you, who has her own successful interior design business and socialises with a smart and select London set.”

 

“Read the card, Lally.” Lettice hisses as she takes a bite of her toast.

 

Lally reads aloud, “’Dearest Lettice, I’m sorry to write like this, but I really can’t have you lolling about at Dorrington House, being pandered to, and mollycoddled by Lally.’” Lally drops her arms, the card still clenched tightly in her right hand. She stares wide eyes in astonishment at their aunt’s statement. “Mollycoddling! What a cheek, Aunt Egg!”

 

“Well,” Lettice indicates down to the breakfast tray across her lap as she gulps down a slice of toast. “Charles would doubtless agree with her. Let’s be honest, Lally, that whilst I have adored staying here with you, being feted, and waited upon hand and foot, you are pandering to me.”

 

“Well…” mutters Lally, blushing as she speaks.

 

“Keep reading.” Lettice insists as she takes up the silver teapot and pours hot tea into her dainty blue sprigged china teacup.

 

Lally takes up the card again. “Let’s see, where was I? Oh yes, ‘being pandered to, and mollycoddled by Lally. It’s time you stopped hiding away in the bucolic bosom of Buckinghamshire’,” Lally pauses again. “Aunt Egg does have a way with words, doesn’t she?” She sniggers and shakes her head.

 

“Keep reading!” Lettice insists.

 

“’And come home to London, where I will admit, you are missed by your Embassy Club coterie of friends. Only last week I heard from Cilla Carter Minnie Palmerston, and Margot Channon three times, asking when you were coming home. I simply must insist that you come back post haste. However, like me, I know you are a woman of your own will,’” Lally looks across at her sister as she sips her tea in bed. “She’s right there. The two of you are by far the most stubborn of the women in the Chetwynd family.”

 

“Keep reading, Lally!”

 

“’So, well aware of the fact that you won’t return solely upon my request, I have had to make arrangements to compel you out of your broken hearted stupor in the stultifying countryside and thrust you back into the beating heart of London society. I’ve managed to wrangle an invitation for you, and Dicke and Margot Channon, to attend one of Sir John and Lady Caxton’s amusing Friday to Monday long weekend parties at Gossington along with a host other notable Bright Young Things********. It will do you good to be with some people of your own age.’” Lally drops her arms again. “People your own age?” she blusters. “Does Aunt Egg suddenly think me ninety, rather than thirty five?”

 

“You know how she is, dear Lally.” She’s just trying to create a compelling reason for me to leave you and go back to London as she bids. Don’t take it personally.” Lettice implores as she takes another dainty bite of her toast. “Keep reading.”

 

“’The Channons will be expecting dinner at Cavendish Mews on Monday evening to discuss arrangements. Apparently, Dickie has enough money for petrol for the motor to be able to drive three of you up to Gossington! Will wonders never cease? Please wire, if indeed you can find a telegraph office in the wilds of Buckinghamshire, what train you will be arriving on at Victoria Station and I will arrange to collect you. With love, Aunt Egg.’”

 

“So you see, Lally darling, I’ll have to arrange a journey back to London.” Lettice says apologetically. “Perhaps you can drop me at High Wycombe railway station on your way to luncheon this afternoon, and then send Tipden back to fetch me after he drops you off at Mrs. Whatsit’s.”

 

“Mrs. Alsop.” Lally reiterates.

 

“Exactly!” Lettice sighs. “Quite right! By the time he’s back I’ll have sent a wire.”

 

“Well of course, Tipden and my car are at your disposal, Lettice darling,” Lally says in a disappointed voice. “But it really is too beastly of Aunt Egg to charge in and spoil our plans like this. I was arranging for us to visit Lady Verney********* at Claydon House********** in Aylesbury Vale whilst you were stopping with me. Oh well!” She sighs and raises her hands in despair. “I shall simply have to telephone her and cancel.”

 

“I’m sure you could still visit Lady Verney, even without me, Lally darling.”

 

“You’d like Lady Varney. She’s been a campaigner for girls’ education for decades now, and is really quite intelligent and independent.”

 

“Oh that is a pity, but I’m afraid it can’t be helped, Lally. An invitation from the Caxtons cannot be refused.”

 

“And who are Sir John and Lady Caxton?” Lally queries. “I don’t think I know them.”

 

“Oh, Sir John and Lady Gladys are very well known amongst the smarter bohemian set of London society for their amusing weekend parties at their Scottish country estate 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, so they attract a mixture of witty writers and artists mostly.”

 

“Oh!” Lally gasps. “So that’s who it is!”

 

“Who, Lally?”

 

“Aunt Egg mentioned to me when we were at Glynes over Christmas and New Year, that she was arranging something for you with a lady novelist. It must be this, Lady Gladys.”

 

“I suppose the artistic connection is how Aunt Egg knows the Caxtons, although, I didn’t actually know that they were acquainted.”

 

“Well she must be more than acquainted with them if Aunt Egg could,” Lally scans the message on the card in her aunt’s spidery cursive handwriting. “Wrangle you an invitation, Tice darling.” Lally sighs disappointedly before snatching the half eaten slice of toast off her sister’s plate and takes a large bite from it. After swallowing her mouthful she continues, “I don’t see why, if she has organised an invitation for Dickie and Margot Channon, why she couldn’t have arranged one for me. She knows Charles has set sail for India and that I’ll be alone without you.”

 

“You’re hardly alone, Lally darling. What about Mrs. Alsop?” Lettice says with a cheeky grin as she takes back what is left of her triangle of toast.

 

“Oh, ha-ha!” replies Lally sarcastically.

 

“But in all seriousness Lally, you aren’t alone here. There are Nettie Fisher and Alice Newsome, and all those other lovely friends of yours who have been so hospitable to me since I arrived. They are all quite wonderful.”

 

“I suppose.” Lally replies deflatedly.

 

“Well, this is all rather thrilling!” Lettice says excitedly, pushing aside her breakfast tray and throwing back the covers with a sudden surge of gusto. “The Caxtons are quite eccentric characters, especially Lady Gladys, and from what I’ve read of them, they are refreshingly different and amusing. Thus, there is never a shortage of guests for their Friday to Monday house parties, and invitations to Gossington are a highly desirable, yet all too rare commodity. Margot will be beside herself!”

 

“Well then, however sad it is, I shall bid you a fond farewell, dear Tice.”

 

Lettice climbs out of bed and embraces her sister lovingly, inhaling her familiar scent of Yardley’s English Lavender. “Don’t worry, Lally darling.” She kisses her affectionately on the left cheek. “I’ll come back down again as soon as this weekend with the Caxtons is over.”

 

“I bet you won’t, Tice!” Lally retorts resignedly. She holds her sister at arm’s length, taking in the sudden vitality that has put a sparkle back into her eyes and roses into her cheeks. “This will be the beginning of a welcome distraction for you.” Then she adds sadly, “And one that is far better than any remedy I can provide you with. Best you follow Aunt Egg’s instructions and go back to London.”

 

“Oh thank you, Lally Darling!” Lettice cries joyfully, throwing her hands around her elder sister’s neck and clinging tightly to her. “You are a brick!”

 

“Yes, you’ll get all of Aunt Egg’s jewellery, Tice darling. You are her favourite by far.”

 

*The Savoy Hotel is a luxury hotel located in the Strand in the City of Westminster in central London. Built by the impresario Richard D'Oyly Carte with profits from his Gilbert and Sullivan opera productions, it opened on 6 August 1889. It was the first in the Savoy group of hotels and restaurants owned by Carte's family for over a century. The Savoy was the first hotel in Britain to introduce electric lights throughout the building, electric lifts, bathrooms in most of the lavishly furnished rooms, constant hot and cold running water and many other innovations. Carte hired César Ritz as manager and Auguste Escoffier as chef de cuisine; they established an unprecedented standard of quality in hotel service, entertainment and elegant dining, attracting royalty and other rich and powerful guests and diners. The hotel became Carte's most successful venture. Its bands, Savoy Orpheans and the Savoy Havana Band, became famous. Winston Churchill often took his cabinet to lunch at the hotel. The hotel is now managed by Fairmont Hotels and Resorts. It has been called "London's most famous hotel". It has two hundred and sixty seven guest rooms and panoramic views of the River Thames across Savoy Place and the Thames Embankment. The hotel is a Grade II listed building.

 

**Before the Second World War, if you were a married Lady, it was customary for you to have your breakfast in bed, because you supposedly don't have to socialise to find a husband. Unmarried women were expected to dine with the men at the breakfast table, especially on the occasion where an unmarried lady was a guest at a house party, as it gave her exposure to the unmarried men in a more relaxed atmosphere and without the need for a chaperone.

 

***The House of Lanvin was named after its founder Jeanne Lanvin in 1889. Jeanne Lanvin was born in 1867 and opened her first millinery shop in rue du Marche Saint Honore in 1885. Jeanne made clothes for her daughter, Marie-Blanche de Polignac, which began to attract the attention of a number of wealthy people, who requested copies for their own children. Soon, she was making dresses for their mothers, which were included in the clientele of her new boutique on the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré. In 1909, Jeanne Lanvin joined the Syndicat de la Couture, which marked her formal status as a couturière. The Lanvin logo was inspired by a photograph taken for Jeanne Lanvin as she attended a ball with her daughter wearing matching outfits in 1907. From 1923, the Lanvin empire included a dye factory in Nanterre. In the 1920s, Lanvin opened shops devoted to home decor, menswear, furs and lingerie, but her most significant expansion was the creation of Lanvin Parfums SA in 1924. "My Sin", an animalic-aldehyde based on heliotrope, was introduced in 1925, and is widely considered a unique fragrance. It would be followed by her signature fragrance, Arpège, in 1927, said to have been inspired by the sound of her daughter's practising her scales on the piano.

 

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

 

*****Mary, Princess Royal and Countess of Harewood (1897 – 1965), was the only daughter of King George V and Queen Mary. She was the sister of Kings Edward VIII and George VI, and aunt of Queen Elizabeth II. She married Viscount Lascelles on the 28th of February 1922 in a ceremony held at Westminster Abbey. The bride was only 24 years old, whilst the groom was 39. There is much conjecture that the marriage was an unhappy one, but their children dispute this and say it was a very happy marriage based upon mutual respect. The wedding was filmed by Pathé News and was the first royal wedding to be featured in fashion magazines, including Vogue.

 

******An orangery or orangerie was a room or a dedicated building on the grounds of fashionable residences of Northern Europe from the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Centuries where orange and other fruit trees were protected during the winter, as a very large form of greenhouse or conservatory.

 

*******In 1837, the Peninsular Steam Navigation Company first secured a Government contract for the regular carriage of mail between Falmouth and the Peninsular ports as far as Gibraltar. The company, established in 1835 by the London shipbroking partnership of Brodie McGhie Willcox (1786-1861) and Arthur Anderson (1792-1868) and the Dublin Ship owner, Captain Richard Bourne (1880-1851) had begun a regular steamer service for passengers and cargo between London, Spain and Portugal using the 206 ton paddle steamer William Fawcett. The growing inclination of early Twentieth Century shipping enterprises to merge their interests, and group themselves together, did not go unnoticed at P&O, which made its first major foray in this direction in 1910 with the acquisition of Wilhelm Lund’s Blue Anchor Line. By 1913, with a paid-up capital of some five and half million pounds and over sixty ships in service, several more under construction and numerous harbour craft and tugs to administer to the needs of this great fleet all counted, the P&O Company owned over 500,000 tons of shipping. In addition to the principal mail routes, through Suez to Bombay and Ceylon, where they divided then for Calcutta, Yokohama and Sydney, there was now the ‘P&O Branch Line’ service via the Cape to Australia and various feeder routes. The whole complex organisation was serviced by over 200 agencies stationed at ports throughout the world. At the end of 1918, the Group was further strengthened by its acquisition of a controlling shareholding in the Orient Line and in 1920, the General Steam Navigation Company, the oldest established sea-going steamship undertaking, was taken over. In 1923 the Strick Line was acquired too and P&O became, for a time, the largest shipping company in the world. With the 1920s being the golden age of steamship travel, P&O was the line to cruise with. P&O had grown into a group of separate operating companies whose shipping interests touched almost every part of the globe. By March 2006, P&O had grown to become one of the largest port operators in the world and together with P&O Ferries, P&O Ferrymasters, P&O Maritime Services, P&O Cold Logistics and its British property interests, the company was, itself, acquired by DP World for three point three billion pounds.

 

*******The Women's Institute (WI) is a community-based organization for women in the United Kingdom, Canada, South Africa and New Zealand. The movement was founded in Stoney Creek, Ontario, Canada, by Erland and Janet Lee with Adelaide Hoodless being the first speaker in 1897. It was based on the British concept of Women's Guilds, created by Rev Archibald Charteris in 1887 and originally confined to the Church of Scotland. From Canada the organization spread back to the motherland, throughout the British Empire and Commonwealth, and thence to other countries. Many WIs belong to the Associated Country Women of the World organization. Each individual WI is a separate charitable organisation, run by and for its own members with a constitution agreed at national level but the possibility of local bye-laws. WIs are grouped into Federations, roughly corresponding to counties or islands, which each have a local office and one or more paid staff.

 

********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.

 

*********Lady Margaret Maria Verney, was an English-born Welsh educationist. Verney was the daughter of Lady Sarah Elizabeth Amherst and her husband John Hay-Williams, 2nd Baronet Williams of Bodelwyddan. On the death of her father in 1859, she inherited his house "Rhianfa", on Anglesey, which she retained as a family home. In 1868 she married Sir Edmund Hope Verney, MP, then merely Captain Verney. She became a leading campaigner for girls' education in Britain. In 1894 she became a member of the Statutory Council of the University of Wales, holding the position until 1922.

 

**********Claydon House is a country house in the Aylesbury Vale, Buckinghamshire, England, near the village of Middle Claydon. It was built between 1757 and 1771 and is now owned by the National Trust. Claydon has been the ancestral home of the Verney family since 1620. The present Verney family, are the descendants of Sir Harry Calvert, 2nd Baronet who inherited the house in 1827. He was very tenuously related to the Verneys only through marriage. However, he adopted the name Verney on inheriting. The house was given to the National Trust in 1956 by Sir Ralph Verney, 5th Baronet. His son, Sir Edmund Verney, 6th Baronet, a former High Sheriff of Buckinghamshire, lived in the house until 2019.

 

This cosy boudoir may look real to you, but it is in fact made up of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The mahogany stained breakfast tray came from an English stockist of 1:12 artisan miniatures whom I found on E-Bay. On its surface the crockery, serviettes with their napkin rings came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom. The teapot also came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop. It is sterling silver, hallmarked Birmingham 1910 and has a removable lid, so it was probably a commissioned piece of Edwardian whimsy for someone wealthy, be they an adult or child. The cutlery came from an online stockist of miniatures. The orange comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The egg cup come from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The egg in the egg cup is amongst some of the smallest miniatures I own, and came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The square of butter in the glass dish has been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.

 

The two copies of Vogue, the Art Nouveau style card and the addressed and postmarked envelope on the silver tray are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Ken Blythe was famous in miniature collectors’ circles mostly for the miniature books that he made: all being authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection. However, he did not make books exclusively. He also made other small pieces like the card and envelope. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make these miniature artisan pieces. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago and through his estate courtesy of the generosity of 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 small silver letter salver is a 1:12 artisan miniature piece of sterling silver. The artist is unknown. Being made of silver, it is very heavy for its size. The sterling silver letter opener is made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures.

 

Lettice’s comforter is in fact a piece of beautiful vintage embroidered sari silk from the 1970s, laid over a box to give the appearance of the corner of a bed. I even put my fingers under the covers to give the impression of a body as you can see in the bottom right-hand corner of the image, where the comforter is raised slightly.

 

Lettice’s elegant straw hat sitting on the French blue hatbox in the background is decorated with an oyster satin ribbon, three feathers and an ornamental flower. The maker for this hat is unknown, but I acquitted it through Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in the United Kingdom. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism as this one is are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable.

 

The blue hatbox in the background on which the hat sits is a 1:12 artisan miniature and made of blue kid leather which is so soft to the touch, and small metal handles, clasps and ornamentation. It has been purposely worn around their edges to give it age. It also comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in England.

 

The Chinese screen is made of black japanned wood and features hand painted soapstone panels, so it is very heavy. I picked it up at an auction some twenty years ago.

 

The dressing table featuring fine marquetry banding appears to have been made by the same unknown artisan who made the round table. This piece I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop. The brush on its surface is part of a set painted by miniature artisan Victoria Fasken, and was also acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop. The vase on the dressing table surface is a 1950s Limoges piece. The vase is stamped with a small green Limoges mark to the bottom. I found this treasure in an overcrowded cabinet at the Mill Markets in Geelong. The pink roses it contains came from beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

 

The Chippendale style chair pushed into the dressing table is a very special piece. It came from the Petite Elite Miniature Museum, later rededicated as the Carol and Barry Kaye Museum of Miniatures, which ran between 1992 and 2012 on Los Angeles’ bustling Wiltshire Boulevard. It is part of a dining table setting for six. One of the chairs still has a sticker under its cushion identifying which room of which dollhouse it came. The Petite Elite Miniature Museum specialised in exquisite and high end 1:12 miniatures. The furnishings are taken from a real Chippendale design.

Read More About : www.zetpilnutrition.com/products/anti-aging/

Supplement to the 'Birds of New Zealand'

London :The author,1905.

biodiversitylibrary.org/page/37485529

...something added to complete a thing,

a little extra effort might have worked!

its never too late!

 

Taj Mahal, Agra, India

 

see the set here

January 28, 2014 - The FDA is advising consumers not to purchase or use Bali Mojo, a product promoted and sold as a dietary supplement for sexual enhancement. The product was found to contain undeclared tadalafil. For more information, go to www.fda.gov/Drugs/ResourcesForYou/Consumers/BuyingUsingMe...

 

And read these FDA Consumer Updates:

 

Beware of Fraudulent ‘Dietary Supplements’

 

"All Natural" Alternatives for Erectile Dysfunction: A Risky Proposition

  

SAABs have always been distinctive, none more so than the original from 1948. Mostly they remained an oddity, and largely confined to their homeland of Sweden. Until that is, the 99 of 1968.

 

The 99 debuted a larger body (both longer and wider) than the SAAB 96 that it at first supplemented, and then replaced. The 99 also had a 'normal' engine - four cylinders in line (though it was really half a V8). This engine was still more well understood by the public than 3-cylinder two-strokes, or the borrowed V4 For Taunus engine.

 

The styling was still quirky - unusually aerodynamic (a legacy of being a car from an aeroplane company), and both the 3-door and 5-door combi-coupes featured an innovative large sloping tailgate which opened from roof to bumper for a fantastic loading deck. Also, the strange-hinging forward opening bonnet (hood) which wrapped down over the fender tops.

 

There were other innovations too. The SAAB 99 was one of the first European turbocharged cars - which became a SAAB hallmark, in 1978.

 

Key ingredient in all SAABs though, was the ability to traverse the icy frozen roads of native Sweden, and to do so safely. The cars were strong, but traction was enabled by directing drive to the front wheels, under the weight of the engine. The front half shafts were even-length, to reduce torque steer, and the rear axle was a dead-beam coil-sprung design, allowing the rear wheels to track true to the vehicle direction, and to remain even with the road surface.

 

Such excellent chassis characteristics made the SAAB 99 a formidable rally weapon, in the hands of so many Scandinavian lunatic racing drivers. Two WRC victories were attained 1977 and 1979.

 

Sadly, with the complete purchase of SAAB by General Motors in 2000, most of the magic had been diluted. The SAAB 9.5 and 9.3 were built off GM Europe's mid-size car platform. Most of the quirks had been eliminated. And thinking that what they really wanted was a Swedish BMW, the hatchback bodies were replaced by sedans and station wagons.

 

SAAB was starved, then exited, as part of the downward spiral of parent company GM, and brave (or fool-hardy) investors were unable to keep the production lines running. SAAB ownership now lies with the Chinese, with a restarting of the 9.3 in the near future (the 9.5 has been deemed to contain too much proprietary GM knowledge, and as such, has been refused to allow future production).

 

A sad end to a optimistic beginning. Nonetheless, on a snowy winters day in the late 1960s, and for the following twenty-five years, a great way to travel was a SAAB 99 (or the replacement 900, which reused the core vehicle.)

 

This Lego SAAB 99 EMS 3-door Combi-Coupe has been created in miniland scale for Flickr LUGNuts 84th Build Challenge, our 7th birthday, to the theme, - "LUGNuts Turns 7…or 49 in Dog Years", - where al the previous build challenges are available to build to. In this case the SAAB is built to the 41st Build Challenge theme, -"Snowed In", - for vehicles to use in snowy conditions.

Word, graph and manifold embedding from Markov processes. Hashimoto, Alvarez-Melis, Jaakkola arxiv.org/abs/1509.05808 #stat

Supplement to the 'Birds of New Zealand' /.

London :The author,1905..

biodiversitylibrary.org/page/39631552

 

The name "Megapode" is literally Greek for "Large Foot." What kind of animal do you think it is? Find out in #bhlib biodiversitylibrary.org/page/39631552

Super Supplements

Kennewick, Washington

15 December 2020

 

Fujifilm X-Pro1

Fujifilm 35mm ƒ/1.4

December 19, 2013 - The FDA is advising consumers not to purchase or use "Best Whips," a product promoted and sold for sexual enhancement. The product was found to contain undeclared sildenafil. For more information, go to www.fda.gov/Drugs/ResourcesForYou/Consumers/BuyingUsingMe...

 

And read these FDA Consumer Updates:

 

Beware of Fraudulent ‘Dietary Supplements’

 

"All Natural" Alternatives for Erectile Dysfunction: A Risky Proposition

Don't go looking for "The Motorama Building", especially in Aspen, CO.

 

It was built in 1956 to showcase future products of General Motors, as a temporary display.

  

One of my early means of learning to draw- was by copying Skip's style of cross-hatching and varied line-weight... Learning a sort of visual short-hand!

 

Skip Williamson was one of the pioneers of

the 1960s U.S. underground comix movement.

He is best known for his satirical comic strip 'Snappy Sammy Smoot' (1968-1996) and was closely involved with the underground comix magazine Bijou Funnies, as well as the section 'Playboy Funnies' in Hugh Hefner's Playboy.

Williamson worked in a fluid, roundish, psychedelic style

and was known for his highly political stance.

"Underground comics should be both

propaganda and entertainment," he once said.

"They're effective - the antithesis of rhetoric."

To him comics could be "subtle and exaggerated

at the same time.

So they are a valuable propaganda tool."

 

RIGHT-ON!

 

Because of their subversive content

these publications couldn't be sold in regular stores

and thus had to "underground".

They were distributed in stores specializing in hippie fashions, gadgets and drugs, the so-called "head shops".

 

One of these magazines was The Chicago Mirror,

founded in the summer of 1967 by Jay Lynch and Skip Williamson.

It featured a lot of satirical articles which unfortunately weren't always recognized as such.

One day Lynch invented a story how smoking dog excrement could be used as a substitute for marijuana. To his concern some hippies actually came forward to congratulate him for giving them this tip.

Even when Lynch explained it was satire the men still didn't believe it was all meant as a joke.

This made them decide to change the format into a comic magazine, because then at least their satire would be a lot clearer.

The Chicago Mirror was discontinued after four issues.

Inspired by Robert Crumb's groundbreaking Zap Comix,

Bijou Funnies hit the market in the summer of 1968.

It quickly became the 2nd most-read underground comix

after Zap.

 

By 1994 Williamson moved to Atlanta, Georgia, and started making politically conscious paintings on large-scale canvases. His works often poke fun at famous politicians like Richard Nixon, Spiro Agnew and Ronald Reagan.

Some of these works have been exhibited in various musea and cultural centra all across the United States and Europe as well.

 

In 2017 Skip Williamson passed away at the age of 72.

He was a diabetic and died after a bad reaction to antibiotics while undergoing treatment for a toe infection in Albany Medical Center.

He died only a week and a half after his frequent collaborator Jay Lynch.

  

Pucchigumi (ぷっちぐみ): Japanese Children's Magazine - April Issue 2021 (Shogakukan)

Creator: From the painting by P. Stanhope Hobday

 

Description: Caption: A Queensland Summer Girl

 

A painting of a young girl standing waist deep in the surf. She wears a hat or cap and has her arms folded.

 

View this page at the State Library of Queensland: hdl.handle.net/10462/deriv/224558

Information about State Library of Queensland’s collection: www.slq.qld.gov.au/resources/picture-queensland

A worker removes excess concrete around construction joints inside an unfinished supplemental stability pontoon cell being constructed in Tacoma.

 

This cycle of eight pontoons will float out in late 2013 or early 2014.

Group of vitamins together.

To supplement the fleet of Dennis Dominators inherited from Central, Kelvin bought Merseyside's fleet of 10. Repainted into full Kelvin Central 'barber-pole' livery, CHF346X has also had its two piece electronic blinds replaced by something a little more reliable!

My daily supplement intake

 

Photo featured here:

www.vitaminsfordepression.net/

Slideshow : www.flickr.com/photos/reurinkjan/sets/72157635937209655/show

 

Yilhun Lha tso ཡིད་ལྷུང་ལྷ་ མཚོ་མཚོ་། 3989 m is a fresh water lake.

Yilhun Lhatso Nature Reserve (190 sq km), extending from the lakeshore as far as the jagged snow peaks of the Trola range to the south, is a natural habitat for176 species of wild animals, including the red deer (cervus albirostris), the snow-leopard, the argali, the red fox and various birds of prey. the flora of the reserve include distinctive azaleas, dragon spruce(Picea asperata),cypresses and the snow lotus སྤྱང་དུག་པ changdukpa (Sasssurea laniceps ) .

There is a toll barrier at the bridge and you must cross the Cho-chu (Tro-chu) on foot to get to the lake. A lakeside retreat house and pavilion have recently been constructedby one Lama Dorje, who has spent many years in retreat in this locality. Trekking routes also lead from the northern shore of the lake through the Dzenu-chu valley and across Pi La or Dzin La, in the direction of Dzongsar. The Nomads of these upper valleys supplement their income by collecting caterpillar fungus for Chinese medicinal consumption.

www.footprinttravelguides.com/asia/tibet/?Action=product&...

Kushutara piece from HGB workshop with Wendy Garrity, October 2015.

Supplement II to the General synopsis of birds..

London :Printed for Leigh, Sotheby, & Son, York Street, Covent Garden,[1801 or 1802].

biodiversitylibrary.org/page/33261216

This image is excerpted from a U.S. GAO report:

www.gao.gov/products/GAO-16-674

 

SUPPLEMENTAL SECURITY INCOME: SSA Provides Benefits to Multiple Recipient Households but Needs System Changes to Improve Claims Management

 

Medicare can be complex, and there is certainly no one size all fits approach to it. Everyone will find themselves with different needs and wants when it comes to the their healthcare, and we all have expectations that we would like to have met. This is one of the most important decisions we have to make, and with all of the information you may start to receive before the transition into Medcare it can seem overwhelming. There are many benefits to using a Medicare Checklist to sort through it all, but here are the top 5 reasons.

 

stock series on health and nutrition

 

model: jill chodak

mau: ashley sprouse

 

i thought vitamins were good for you. jill's not a big fan.

My parent's 56th wedding anniversary.

 

Heritage Weekend.

 

Ride and Stride charity event.

 

Churchcrawling, the hobby of visiting churches, can be a hit and miss affair. A church in one village maybe open 24/7, whilst a church in the same benefice, deanary in the next village may only be open for services, with no keyholder details.

 

This means you never can be sure that a church will be open, but one day a year, there is a higher chance they might be open.

 

In normal times.

 

But these are far from normal times, of course.

 

Ride and Stride is a national charity day when walkers and cyclists visit as many churches in eight hours to raise money. Churches are usually open for this, offering refreshments for the participants. Sometimes they just put up a sign in sheet in the porch. THis was something I would see through the day.

 

I have a list now of churches I still need to visit, and with Kent being a large county, those in the north and west of the county are nearly 8o minutes drive away, so planning a route is something akin to a military operation. I do that, then have my list with me, and the Kent A-Z in case I have spare time, 12 churches on my hit list, and 50 more in the book. More than enough for several such days.

 

I have breakfast and coffee, pack my cameras, check the batteries, format memory cards and am ready to leave at half eight, so to be at the first church at just after half nine in case it is open early. Or at all.

 

Jools wasn't going to come with me, so I leave her and the four cats behind, and set off up the A then M20 past Ashford, Maidstone, nearly into Surrey.

 

Wrotham is better known for having a motorway junction named after it, so surprising to find it an old and attractive village, with the church sitting proud overlooking the small village square. Wardens had begun to arrive, so I go to snap the village before returning and asking if I could go inside to take shots.

 

If you mask up and don't touch anything.

 

Deal!

 

Inside, St George is clean, airy, full of light and well cared for. Numerous chandeliers and lights hang down supplementing the sunlight pouring through the south windows.

 

-------------------------------------------

 

In an excellent position overlooking the diminutive village square, the church is much larger than one imagines. It is entered under a two-storey stone-vaulted porch. On the right, inside the church, is a holy water stoup. The south chapel shows the rood loft staircase leading to the top of the fourteenth-century screen. The lively altar in the chapel was designed by Comper in 1907. The stonework of the main east window was inserted in 1958 and came from Wren's St Albans Church in London, damaged in the Second World War. By far the best visual feature in Wrotham church is the chunky nineteenth-century stone and marble pulpit designed by Newman and Billing in 1861. The tower has an unusual feature - a vaulted passage leading right under it from north to south at ground level to allow medieval processions to circumnavigate the building. There is nothing else like it in Kent and few across England!

 

www.kentchurches.info/church.asp?p=Wrotham

 

-------------------------------------------

 

WROTHAM.

SOUTHWARD from Stansted lies Wrotham, commonly pronounced Ruteham. In Domesday book it is written Broteham, and in the Textus Roffensis, WROTEHAM.

 

THE PARISH of Wrotham is of very large extent, being, though only between two and three miles in breadth, near five miles in length from north to south. It lies of course in various situations, and is of various soils. The village, or town of Wrotham, is situated at the foot of the great ridge of chalk hills, above the summit of which this parish extends northward. From this hill, called here Wrotham hill, which is here luxuriantly cloathed with fine spreading beech trees, there is a most beautiful prospect southward over a variety of country, lying in the vale beneath, of vast extent, which is bounded by the sand hills at the southern extremity of it; the high road from London through Farningham to Maidstone leads through this town, which is a little more than twenty-four miles from London. At the entrance of it is the mansion of the rectory, a handsome house, well suited to the income of it, and on the opposite side the road stands the church, and the small remains of the archiepiscopal palace, but yet sufficient to remind us of its having formerly been such. In the center of the town stand the marketplace and public well, both repaired by the lord of the manor; the market, which was on a Tuesday, has been disused for many years, but here is a fair held yearly on May 4, for horses, cattle, &c. Opposite the marketplace is Wrotham place, the seat of Mr. Haddock, a further account of which will be given hereafter. Hence the road divides, that to the right leads to Yaldham and Ightham, and to the left the London road to Maidstone continues south-eastward along a chalky soil, through the borough of Neupiker, where there is a handsome sashed house belonging to Mr. Tomlyn, and a spring, which supplies the rivulet which runs afterwards by Ford, situated at the western boundaries of the parish, next to Addington, and thence by Leyborne towards the Medway; about a mile from Neupiker, is Wrotham heath, a barren sandy soil, both red and black, but on which great quantities of peat is dug; here the road divides, the left leading by the Royal Oak to Maidstone, near which are the two hamlets of Great and Little Comp, and the woods of that name, and the right towards Ightham, the antient Roman camp on Oldberry hill, and over Seal chart to Sevenoke and Westerham. On the southern side of the road this parish extends over the hill to Hale borough and the hamlet of Plaxtool, where the soil, from a sand becomes a deep stiff clay, and though a fertile, yet an unpleasant miry country. The chapel and street of Plaxtool, together with the seat of Fairlawn, are situated at the southern boundaries of it, next to Shipborne and West Peckham. In Plaxtool-street is a good house, built by Thomas Dalyson, esq. who resided here till his father's death, when he removed to Hamptons, in West Peckham. He lies buried in Plaxtool chapel, and his eldest son, William Dalyson, esq. of Hamptons, now resides in it. Near the last hill above-mentioned, but still within the circuit of this borough, are two hamlets, called Plaxtool-street likewife, and Crouch, the latter of which was formerly the residence of the Millers, baronets, about half a mile eastward from which is the large tract of woodland, called the Herst or Compwoods; through the other runs a stream, which rises near Ightham, and having turned a paper mill at Basted pasies through this borough towards West Peckham, Hadlow, and thence into the Medway.

 

That part of this parish which lies southward below Comp-hill, and the hill above Fairlawn, is in the district called the Weald, though there have been several, who have contended, that all that part of Wrotham lying below the chalk hill is in the Weald of Kent, and as a proof of it, urge the non payment of tithe for the wood in those parts of this parish. But the general received opinion is, that the Weald begins at the next sand hill above Fairlawn; wood being exempted from tithe can be no proof of its being in the Weald, as there are such large districts in this county plainly out of it, which claim and enjoy, as yet, a like privilege.

 

This parish ought antiently to have contributed to the repair of the fifth pier of Rochester bridge.

 

Besides the gentlemens' families mentioned hereafter who formerly resided in this parish, John Richers, a justice of the peace, resided here in 1570, a period when that office was truly an honor to those who were intrusted with it. He was descended from an antient family of Swanington-hall, in Norfolk.

 

William Bryan, esq. of this parish, son of John Bryan, of Kibworth, in Leicestershire, by Elianor, sister of Anthony Watson, bishop of Chichester, and at length heir to the bishop, resided here in the beginning of the reign of king James I. and bore for his arms, Or, three piles azure, a chief ermine.

 

A branch of the family of Polley, alias Polhill, once resided in this parish, of which was Sir Thomas Polley, who was living here in the reign of king James I. These were junior to those of Preston, in Shoreham, but elder to those of Chipsted and Otford, in this county. John Thomas, gent. was of Wrotham, in the reign of queen Elizabeth, whose grandson, William Thomas, gent. removed to Selling, in this county. They bore for their arms, Argent, a fess dancette, sable, between three Cornish choughs, proper. (fn. 1)

 

Thomas Shakerley, third son of Francis Shakerley, of Ditton, in this county, resided at Wrotham in the reign of king James I. (fn. 2)

 

In Blacksole field, in this parish, Sir Robert Southwell, sheriff of this county, and the lord Abergavenny, with about five hundred gentlemen and yeomen, routed the Isleys and their party, who were engaged in Sir Thomas Wyatt's rebellion, in the first year of queen Mary's reign; the rebels were pursued from hence near four miles to Hartley-wood, many of them were killed, and about sixty taken prisoners. Those who were slain in this rencounter were buried in the field of battle. Sir Henry Isley himself escaped and fled into Hampshire.

 

Some of our antiquarians, as Talbot, and after him Lambarde, (fn. 3) have conjectured Wrotham to have been the station called in Antonine's itinerary Vagniacæ, but in this they have not been followed by any one else that I have seen.

 

There is great probability that the Roman military way passed by Ofham through this parish near the Comps, westward, towards Oldborough and Stonestreet, as will be further mentioned hereafter.

 

About seventy years ago a considerable quantity of British Silver coin was discovered in this parish by a mole's casting up the earth, and by digging afterwards, which were all seized by the lord of the manor of Wrotham.

 

Pentaphyllum, or creeping cinquefoil, mentioned by Dr. Plot in his history of Oxfordshire, as a rare plant, is said to grow plentifully on one side of Wrotham town.

 

WROTHAM was given to Christ-church, in Canterbury, by king Ethelstan, in the year 964, and continued part of the possessions of that church, when Lanfranc came to the see in the year 1070, being the 5th year of the Conqueror's reign.

 

On the division, which the archbishop soon afterwards made of the revenues of his church, between himself and his convent, Wrotham was allotted to the archbishop and his successors, and as such it is entered under the general title of his lands in the survey of Domesday, taken about the year 1080, as follows:

 

In Broteham hundred. The archbishop himself holds Broteham. It was taxed at eight sulings. The arable land is twenty carucates. In demesne there are three carucates, and seventy-six villeins, with eighteen borderers, having fourteen carucates. There is a church and ten servants, and three mills of fifteen shillings, and nine acres of meadow; wood, when fruitful (in acorns) sufficient for the pannage of five hundred hogs.

 

Of this manor, William Dispensator holds one suling, and there he has one carucate in demesne, and two villeins with half a carucate.

 

Of the same manor Goisfrid holds of the archbishop one suling, and there he has one carucate, and six villeins, with one borderer, having two carucates.

 

Of the manor itself, Farman holds one yoke and an half of the archbishop, and there he has three carucates, and six villeins with twelve cottagers having two carucates, there are ten servants.

 

In the whole value, in the time of king Edward the Confessor, this manor was worth fifteen pounds, and afterwards sixteen pounds. Now the demesne of the archbishop is valued at twenty-four pounds, and yet it pays thirty-five pounds. Of the knights eleven pounds.

 

What Richard of Tonebridge holds in his lowy is valued at fifteen pounds.

 

Walter, archbishop of Canterbury, in the 8th year of king Edward II. had a grant of a market weekly on a Thursday at his manor of Wrotham, and one fair on the seast of St. George yearly.

 

In an antient taxation of the archbishop's revenues, this manor was valued at eighty five pounds. (fn. 4)

 

¶The archbishops had very antiently a palace here, in which they frequently resided till the time of archbishop Simon Islip, who came to the see in the 23d year of king Edward III. who having a desire to finish the palace at Maidstone, which John Ufford his predecessor had begun, and wanting materials for that purpose, pulled down the greatest part of this house, and transported the materials thither, in which situation, the manor, with the remains of it, continued till the reign of king Henry VIII. when Thomas Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, in the 29th year of it, conveyed it, as well as all his estates whatsoever in this parish, except the church of Wrotham, and its appendages, to that king, in exchange for other premiles; at which time the scite and demesnes of it were let by the archbishop at the yearly rent of 5l. 6s. 8d. and there were paid to the archbishop (who reserved the royalty and rents of the manor to himself) from the farmers and tenants of it, of antient custom, annually, two hundred and sixty-four hens, valued at sixty-six shillings; 1159 eggs at 5s. 9d. and two geese at ten-pence, (fn. 5) which is noted here to shew the small value of these articles at that time.

 

WROTHAM is within the ECCLESIASTICAL JURISDICTION of the diocese of Rochester, and being a peculiar of the archbishop of Canterbury, is as such within the deanry of Shoreham.

 

The ecclesiastical jurisdiction of this parish extends over the district of the chapelry of Woodland, once a parish of itself, the civil jurisdiction of which is united to the parish of Kingsdown, though on the decay of the chapel, it was, in the 15th year of queen Elizabeth united, as to the ecclesiastical jurisdiction, to this parish, the rector and vicar of which have a right to possess all emoluments arising from it till another chapel is built.

 

The ecclesiastical jurisdiction of this parish extends likewise over the adjoining parish of Stansted, which is accounted as a chapel to the church of Wrotham. It was made a distinct church of itself, by the ordinance of parliament before-mentioned, in 1647, in which state it remained till the restoration, when it became again united to the church of Wrotham, and continues so at this time.

 

The church, which is dedicated to St. George, is situated on the north side of the town, adjoining to the London road at the foot of the hill. It is a very handsome large building, consisting of three isles, a cross isle, and a large chancel, which last was new-paved and otherwise much beautified some years ago, by the late rector, Dr. John Potter.

 

There seems to have been a rectory and vicarage belonging to this church very antiently, for in the 15th year of king Edward I. the former was valued at eighty marcs, and the latter at twenty marcs. However, the vicarage was not endowed till the middle of the reign of king Edward III. when Simon Islip, archbishop of Canterbury, at the request, and with the consent of William de Isleppe, then rector of this church, with the chapel of Stansted annexed, decreed, that there should be from that time in future one vicar, the collation of whom should belong to the archbishop and his successors, and he separated the portion, which the vicar should take in future from that of the rector, and he decreed, that the vicar's part so divided, with the permission of the rector, should be as follows: Imprimis, that he should have for the habitation of himself and his successors, a certain house lately assigned to the vicar, with the garden adjoining, as wholly and as freely as the vicar formerly held the same, and all manner of oblations in whatsoever things they should in any manner arise, in this church and chapel and elsewhere within the parish; and also the tithes of lambs, wool, chickens, pigs, geese, ducks, eggs, bees, honey, wax, cheese, milk, the produce of the dairy, flax, hemp, apples, pears, swans, and also of pidgeons, merchandisings, fisheries, pasture without the parks of the archbishop, onions, garlic, and other small tithes and obventions whatsoever, in any shape arising within the bounds and limits of the parish of this church; and also of the silva cedua of faggots and fardels. And that the vicar should have the tithes of the four water mills situated within the parish of Wrotham, and also the tithe of hay growing at Hale, Roghey, and Wynfield, within this parish, and the small tithes of a place called Pellesholte, titheable to the church of Wrotham from antient time, and all trentals left within the parish of this church and chapel; and he taxed and estimated the above portion at the sum of twenty marcs, and decreed it should pay accordingly to the tenth, whenever the same should be levied

 

And he decreed that the vicar should undergo the following burthens, viz. that he should find one fit chaplain to celebrate in the chapel of Stansted, and to administer to the parishioners there all sacraments, and sacramentals whatsoever, and to exercise all cure of souls, and when he had leisure, and the other part of the parish of Wrotham should be in want of his ministry, beyond the usual service, that he should give his assistance, as the same should be enjoined to him and the vicar. Moreover, that the vicar should provide for his chaplain's celebrating at both places, bread and wine and lights, and should pay the procurations due to the dean of Shoreham at his visitations, and should bind and repair the books, and cause the vestments to be washed as often as need should require. But that the sacrist assigned by the parishioners, according to antient custom, should carefully keep them, as he should answer it at his peril. And he decreed, that the vicar of this church for the time being, should not take any thing whatsoever beyond the above portion, or undergo any other burthens than those before expressed.

 

And he decreed, that the vicar and his chaplains, and their successors, should take an oath of obedience to the rector, that he would neither by himself, or by any other, publicly or privately, bring any damage or burthen to the rector or church, and that he should not knowingly ever usurp to himself, any thing of the rector's portion. And he further decreed, that as often as the vicarage should become vacant, the rector should take all and singular the tithes, and obventions whatsoever assigned as before mentioned, to the vicar of it, and arising during the time of such vacation, and that during the same, he should undergo and acknowledge all the before-mentioned burthens, and should cause, as well the said church, as the chapel of Stansted, to be served in divine services, saving to him the archbishop and his successors full liberty of correcting, amending and explaining his decree, and of adding to, or diminishing from the same, as often as need should require. (fn. 16)

 

Thomas Arundel, archbishop of Canterbury, in 1402, confirmed the above endowment, and being frequently requested by John Sondereshe, rector of this church, to inspect the said letters, how far he might with justice expound the decree, or endowment of this vicarage, which in several parts of it seemed doubtful and obscure, on account of the differences and disputes arising from thence, and the preventing those which might probably arise in future; the archbishop therefore having examined carefully into the premises, decreed, that that part of the endowment, where mention is made, that all small tithes, and obventions whatsoever, should belong to the vicar, ought to extend to the tithes, oblations and obventions therein expressed, and likewife to the tithes of trades and of calves, for the taking of which there had been no small contention, and that all occasion of dispute might be prevented between the rector and vicar, by reason of the endowment, he decreed, that the vicar should yearly receive from the rector for the time being 13s. 4d. in money, and four cart loads of wood of the tithes of silva cedua of this parish, yearly to be taken, when it should most suit the vicar, nevertheless by the direction and delivery of the rector, or of his locum tenens.

 

And in recompence of which 13s. 4d. of the tithes of calves and of trades, and of the fire wood, the rector of this church for the time being should take entirely all manner of tithes of hay, and silva cedua of whatever sort or quality, the same might be, the decree of his predecessor in any wise notwithstanding, which he nevertheless decreed to remain in all other parts firm and valid, saving to himself and his successors, full power to correct, amend or explain the same, and either to add to or diminish it, as often as need, or reason required it. (fn. 17)

 

From this time the rectory became a sine cure, and the vicar performed the whole service of the cure, though they both continued to receive institution and induction.

 

The rectory of Wrotham is valued in the king's books at 50l. 8s. 1½d. and the yearly tenths at 5l. 0s. 9¾d.

 

The vicarage is valued at 22l. 5s. 10d. and the yearly tenths at 19s. 10¾d.

 

An indenture was executed anno 6th Elizabeth, with the queen's consent, between the parson of Wrotham and George Bing, in which the latter conveyed in exchange a court lodge, and twenty-four acres of land to the former, and his successors in free alms, in lieu of the parsonage house, and twenty-four acres of glebe land.

 

The rectory of Wrotham continued a sine cure impropriate, under a lease from the archbishop, separate from the vicarage till the year 1715, when the lease expiring, archbishop Tenison having before refused to renew it, conferred this preferment on the vicar Mr. Thomas Curteis, since which both these preferments have been conferred on the same person who has a separate institution and induction, and conforms likewise in every particular to the act of uniformity for each.

 

¶The parsonage house is a handsome building on the opposite side of the road westward from the church. It was considerably improved of late years, first, by Mr. Curteis, and next by Dr. Potter, who was the principal benefactor to it, and expended a large sum of money upon this house and the offices belonging to it, during the time of his holding these preferments. The vicarage house is still remaining. It is a mean building situated in that part of Wrotham leading to Yaldham.

 

The extent of the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of this parish, with the chapel of Stansted, is very great, containing a space of six miles and an half long, of which Stansted is two miles, and three miles in width, besides the chapel of Woodland. There is an exceeding fine glebe to it, and the first value of the rectory and vicarage is, as I am informed, upwards of one thousand pounds per annum, of which the latter is computed at three hundred pounds.

 

www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-kent/vol5/pp6-32

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Magnus is doing well. Right now he wears out easily, but we have successfully transitioned him back to his regular food. He'll take his last antibiotic tablet Saturday evening. I hope his stools return to completely normal soon. In the meantime, Magnus simply cannot resist adding a bit of fresh greens to his diet.

 

(Given the amount of weight he's lost, he really should eat more than just salad.)

 

[SOOC, f/1.4, ISO 160, shutter speed 1/640, -2/3 EV]

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