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’s beloved parents, George and Ada live in their small, two storey brick terrace house which opens out directly onto the street. Although very far removed from the grandeur of Lettice’s Mayfair flat, the Harlesden terrace has always been a cosy and welcoming home for Edith and her younger brother, Bert. 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. With Bert, on shore leave from his job as a first-class saloon steward aboard the SS Demosthenes* for a short while, Ada is organising a special Sunday meal to celebrate her two children being home in London at the same time, and Edith and her beau, Mayfair grocer’s boy, Frank Leadbetter, are to join George, Ada and Bert. We find ourselves in the heart of the Watsford’s family home, Ada’s cosy kitchen at the back of the terrace, where Ada’s worn round kitchen table is covered with vegetables, pots and pans as preparations are underway. Ada’s blouse sleeves are rolled up, and one of her worn aprons is wrapped around her waist over her cotton print dress. Her skin glistens with sweat from the heat radiating from the old blacklead range which is stoked and ready to be used to cook.
“Come on Bert!” Ada encourages her son as she wipes her damp forehead with the back of her left hand and glances over her shoulder from the range where her large old kettle is close to boiling and spies him sitting at the kitchen table in the ladderback chair usually occupied by Edith.
Bert, dressed in his navy blue Sunday best trousers, matching blue vest and shirt with his own sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sits quietly in front of a wooden chopping board, scratched from many years of Ada’s kitchen knife’s blade cutting things upon it, contemplating what he is doing as he carefully tries to remove the peel from the potato in his hands in one piece.
Ada’s face clouds and crumples as she spies her gleaming saucepan sitting next to him on the tabletop, still half empty. “You aren’t half slow at peeling those potatoes, love.”
“You can’t rush perfection, Mum.” Bert replies as he carefully slides the blade of the knife under the creamy yellow potato peel with his right hand as he turns it in his left.
“I’m not after perfection, love.” Ada replies, huffing a frustrated sigh through her nostrils, as she turns away from the range, crossing her arms akimbo across her chest, trying not to lose her patience with her beloved youngest child. “I just want my potatoes and carrots peeled before it’s time to serve tea. “Look!” she points first to the board and then to the small white bowl to Bert’s right. You’ve still got those potatoes and those carrots to peel!”
“What do you call them?” Bert indicates with a nod at a smaller saucepan in front of him with eight round, thick slices of carrot lining its base.
“Those aren’t enough carrots for the five of us, Bert!” Ada exclaims in horror. “I need at least another four peeling and slicing and in that pot!”
“Well, you could have done them if you hadn’t shelled Dad’s peas and used those dried peas** I brought you back all the way from Australia.”
“I bet you they don’t taste any different to British dried peas.” Ada sniffs.
“You’ll never know unless you try them, Mum.” Bert remarks in reply.
“Dried peas from a shop indeed!” Ada scoffs derisively as she glances at the offending package of dried peas in their box next to her blue and white jug containing Bisto Gravy Powder***. “That’s lazy that is, especially when your dad brings home fresh garden peas for us to enjoy from the allotment. I can dry my own peas. I don’t need shop bought ones.”
“It’s no lazier than you making gravy with Bisto’s Gravy Powder, Mum.” Bert remarks, smiling proudly as he carefully removes the knife from the potato with a complete peeling hanging from it.
“That’s not true! We’ve been having Bisto’s gravy on Sundays all your life and it never did you any harm.” Ada defends herself. Reaching across the table she tugs on her son’s left ear playfully. “And don’t be so cheeky to your mum!” she adds with a smirk, indicating that she’s not really cross with him over his remark. “Where are your manners?”
“Sorry Mum.” Bert apologises.
“I’ll give you ‘sorry mum’ in a minute if you don’t crack on with those potatoes and carrots.” Ada turns back to the range and taking a thick yellow cloth from the railing just under the mantle, uses it to pick up the kettle by its handle. With a slight groan at is heaviness, she lifts it up and pours hot water into the blue and white grape patterned jug on the table, containing several heaped spoonsful of gravy powder.
“I still don’t understand why you have to boil the potatoes, considering you’re going to roast them, Mum.” Bert casts the perfect peeling into a small bucket on the floor at the left side of his chair that his mother uses for kitchen scraps for his father to take to the allotment for compost.
“Lord, I don’t know how you hold onto a job working in the kitchens of that ship if you don’t know anything about cooking, Bert.” Ada remarks, rolling her eyes as she returns the kettle to the stove.
“It’s not a kitchen, Mum,” Bert corrects his mother as he takes up another potato and begins to slowly peel it. “It’s called a galley on a ship. Besides, I’m not employed to work in the galley, I’m a steward, employed to serve the food in the first-class dining saloon, on the right side of the galley doors,” A smug smile crosses his face as he speaks. “Thank you very much!”
“Oh well, pardon me, Your Highness!” Ada mocks her son, poking her nose in the air as she speaks. “I bet some of those cooks get paid better than you do, Bert, love.” she retorts, bringing her son sharply back down to earth from his lofty delusions of grandeur. “An army marches on its stomach**** and it is no different for that big ship of yours. You wouldn’t have a job serving meals if there was no-one to make them, would you now? I can’t imagine your fine first-class ladies getting their hands dirty making their own meals, any more than I can imagine Edith’s Miss Chetwynd. Can you?”
Bert doesn’t answer his mother’s rhetorical questions but instead concentrates on his careful peeling.
“I don’t know why you want to try and get the peelings off in one go, love.” Ada stirs the gravy in the jug. “It’s all just bound for your dad’s compost heap, long bits or short!”
“It’s a game, Mum.” Bert explains. “You know, fun?”
“You have a peculiar idea of fun, Bert!” Ada retorts, screwing up her nose.
“A skill then.”
“A better skill would be to learn how to cook, Bert love!” Ada keeps stirring the gravy. “Think how much you could impress a young lady if you could help her a bit around the kitchen.”
“Ha!” Bert laughs. “Only a lazy one, Mum, like Alice Dunn.”
“That’s no way to speak about our Vicar’s daughter*****, Bert!” Ada cries aghast as she stops stirring the contents of the jug for a moment.
“But it’s true, Mum.” Bert defends as he continues to peel the potato. “The Vicar Dunn has a housekeeper that cooks for them and all. Alice told me when I first met her. She lorded it over me.”
“Well, you were all younger and sillier then.” Ada puts her hands on her hips. “And the reason why the Vicar Dunn and his family have a housekeeper who cooks for them is because…”
“They’re rich!” Bert pipes up.
“Ha!” It’s Ada’s turn to laugh. “I’ve never heard of a wealthy vicar before.”
“Well, they’re certainly better off that we are.”
“Your dad and I have done well enough between the two of us. You haven’t ever wanted for much, Bert Watsford, and that’s a fact!” Before her son can interject again, Ada goes on, “What I was going to say about the housekeeper at the vicarage is that the Dunns have her because the Vicar and Mrs. Dunn, and young Alice, are busy doing good deeds around the parish all the time. Why just the other week, Mrs. Dunn and Alice held a jumble sale at All Souls****** Parish Hall to raise funds for farthing breakfasts******* for the poor children in the parishes of the East End who can’t even afford bread and margarine.” She takes up the spoon in the jug again and continues stirring the instant gravy vigorously to break up the lumps of powder. “You never went to school without a good breakfast, nor came home to an empty pantry!” She nods affirmatively. “Oh, by the way, Alice was asking after your welfare and when you were next on shore leave when I saw her at the jumble sale.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Bert says noncommittally, raising his eyebrows as he keeps peeling.
“If you ask me, I think Alice Dunn has taken a shine to you, Bert love.”
“Get away with you Mum!” Bert laughs before his face suddenly falls. “Oh blast!”
“Language, Bert!” Ada chides her son sternly. “You may work on a ship, but that doesn’t mean you have to cuss like a sailor********.”
“But look what you made me do, Mum!” Bert holds up the broken piece of potato peeling forlornly.
“That’s still no call for you to use foul language, love.” Ada replies, shaking her head in concern. “That’s not how your dad and I raised you. Besides,” She nods at the peeling as Bert drops it in the bucket. “Like I said before, it all goes into your dad’s compost, no matter how long or short the peeling is, and if you ask me, the shorter the peelings, the more potatoes and carrots you’ll peel.”
“So why do you boil the potatoes first if you’re going to roast them in the pan with the chicken anyway?” Bert asks as he takes up peeling the rest of the potato, speeding up now that he has broken the peel and showering the chopping board with shorter lengths of it.
“Because,” Ada explains as she peers into the jug and moves the spoon about, looking for lumps hidden deep within in the dark brown gravy mix. “Boiling potatoes for a bit before roasting them helps them have a crispier outside and a fluffier inside.”
“Sounds daft to me.” Bert replies, puffing out his cheeks.
“Daft sounding or not, it works, you mark my words.” Ada wags a finger at Bert. “And the starch from the potatoes will help thicken this gravy when I put it over the chicken and vegetables to roast.”
“I believe you, Mum.” Bert says with a sunny smile. “I’ve never had a cause to complain about a single one of your roasts in my whole life.”
“I should think you wouldn’t, Bert love!”
“So why are we having a special roast for tea today, anyway?”
“Well it’s a Sunday********** for a start, Bert love.”
“Yes, but this is a special one, Mum. Why?”
“Well, it isn’t every day I have my son and daughter together for a Sunday tea.” Ada replies. “You haven’t been on shore leave since Christmas. Edith is bringing Frank with her today too, so I want a nice tea for us all.”
“Do you think Frank is going to propose to Edith today, Mum?” Bert asks excitedly.
Ada sighs as she folds over the lid of the Bisto Gravy Powder box and takes it and the packet of dried Australian peas her son gave her as a gift and puts them out of the way on a shelf of the old, dark Welsh dresser that dominates her kitchen. “Oh, I doubt it love. Your dad and I were rather hoping that he’d propose on Easter Sunday when we had a picnic together at Roundwood Park***********, but he didn’t then, so I doubt he will today.” She turns back, shaking her head. Leaning against the edge of the dresser she observes a cheeky smile grace her son’s face as he finishes peeling the potato and drops it into her saucepan. She crosses her arms again. “And don’t you be smart and go placing the cat amongst the pigeons************ by asking about it, either.”
Bert gazes across at his mother with big doe eyes, feigning innocence. “Me, Mum?”
“You Bert!” She gives her son a warning look. “And don’t pretend that you weren’t thinking of asking. I know you were. So I’m asking you nicely, not to.” She eyes her son with a serious look. “Edith’s only just settled herself down and accepted that she just has to be patient and wait for Frank to ask when he’s good and ready.”
“What do you mean, Mum?”
“Well,” Ada tucks a stray damp strand of mousy brown hair streaked with silver grey that has fallen loose from the chignon at the base of her neck behind her ear distractedly. “Edith and Frank had the fiercest argument about it when they went up the Elephant************* not too long ago. I think it was their first proper falling out since they started stepping out together.”
“They patched things up, evidently?”
“Oh yes!” Ada agrees. “At the end of the day it wasn’t too much for them to overcome. Even so, your silly big sister was so spooked by it that she went and wasted some of her hard-earned wages that she should be saving on seeing some tea leaf reader************** she found in the newspapers.” She shakes her head. “Between your sister putting her faith in charlatans and you cussing like a sailor,”
“I never!”
“You did!” Ada shakes her head. “I don’t know what to think of the pair of you?”
“I’m alright, Mum.” Bert assures his mother, turning back to his chopping board and taking up a carrot which he begins to peel with quick, downward strokes. “Anyway, you wrote in your last letter that you and Dad had given Frank your blessing for him to ask Edith to marry him, so things must still be serious between them.”
“So we have, Bert love.” Ada walks back to the table. “But if there is one thing I have learned about Frank Leadbetter since I first met him, it’s that he doesn’t take a step like this lightly. He’ll want it to be the perfect setting when he asks Edith to marry him, and somehow, I suspect sitting around a Watsford family Sunday roast in my kitchen with his future in-laws is not where he has in mind to do it.”
“So when will he do it, Mum?”
“When he’s good and ready, Bert love, and not before.” Ada shakes her head. “And he doesn’t need any goading from you.”
“I won’t Mum.”
“And Edith could do without any embarrassment from her beloved, but cheeky little brother. Alright?”
“Alright Mum! I promise I won’t ask about when they’re getting married. I won’t even elude to it.”
“Good boy.” Ada coos. “But don’t worry,” She reaches out and ruffles her son’s hair lovingly with an indulgent smile. “I’ll write to you if you’re away when he does.”
“Oh Mum!” Bert drops the knife and carrot onto the chopping board and shoos his mother’s hands away as he tries to straighten and smooth his wavy sandy blonde locks. “Don’t do that! I’m going down the Royal Oak*************** after tea. I can’t go with my hair all messed up.”
“Oh good!” Ada replies. “You can take your dad with you. He could do with a pint down at the Royal Oak, and I could do with an evening without him under my feet.”
“Here, Ada love, can you fasten my tie for me? I’m all thumbs today.” George’s voice asks as he bustles into Ada’s kitchen through the hallway door leading from the front part of the house, tugging on his new cobalt blue cardigan knitted for him by Ada, as he adjusts it to sit straight down his front. A pale blue tie hangs undone trailing to either side of him from beneath one of his Sunday best starched detachable collars****************. “Where am I going?
“No Mum!” Bert cries.
Ada walks up to her husband as he stands next to the kitchen table. Running her sweat slicked palms and fingers down her apron, she peers at her husband’s collar and loose tie. She pulls the wider length to give more metreage and expertly begins creating a four-in-hand knot***************** with her husband’s tie. Ignoring her son’s protestations, Ada says, “Bert was just telling me that he’s going down the Royal Oak after tea today.”
“Mum no!” Bert says again imploringly.
Seemingly ignorant and deaf to his plaintive cries, Ada turns back to her son and adds, “Once Edith and Frank have left, of course, I should hope!”
“Of course I won’t go before they go, Mum!”
“Good!” Turning her attention back to her husband’s tie, Ada continues her expert knotting of it at the apex of the collar she has starched many times over, over the last few years. “And I just said that Bert could take you with him. You haven’t seen George or Agnes Whitehead for ages.”
“No Mum!” Bert says again, awkwardly.
“Stand still George and stop squirming.” Ada softly chides her husband. “I have enough to do as it is, what with the tea to prepare, and Bert muddle-puddling****************** with the potatoes and carrots, without you moving as I try and fasten your tie.”
“Sorry Ada love.” George apologises. “I just struggle with this particular collar.” He reaches up and runs the index finger of his left hand underneath the collar. “It’s so stiff and uncomfortable.”
Ada slaps it away sharply. “This is your Sunday best collar that I slaved, starched and sweated over for you, George!”
“Yes I know!” George returns his finger to the tight gap between the flesh of his throat and the collar, quickly snatching it away before his wife can slap it again. “I don’t see why I have to wear this confounded collar today, anyway. Why couldn’t I just wear one of my ordinary collars? It’s not like we’re going to a wedding today.” His eyes suddenly grow wide. “Or do we have something to celebrate that you know about, and I don’t?”
“Now don’t you start!” Ada replies, pushing the ends of George’s neatly fastened tie back into his hands. “I’ve just told Bert not to throw the cat amongst the pigeons.” She wags a finger at him. “Don’t you do it either, please.” She looks him sternly in the eye.
“I promise, I won’t!” George replies, stuffing the ends of his tie beneath his cardigan.
“I just want today to be lovely since both Bert and Edith are home, and Frank is coming too.” Ada explains. “I’ll go upstairs and put on my best bib and tucker******************* shortly.” She then quickly switches her attention back to her son. “And what do you mean, ‘no’, Bert?” Ada queries.
Bert squirms in his seat as he falls under the scrutinising gaze of his mother. “Well, I’m going out with Conlin Campbell down at the Royal Oak tonight, you see, Mum.” he explains with a strained voice, mentioning his friend of the same age as him who grew up in Harlesden with both Edith and Bert and went to sea with Bert when he took his first seafaring job. “He’s on shore leave too, and we’re catching up with a few of our old friends.”
“Well, I don’t see why that matters.” Ada retorts. “Your dad knows Conlin Campbell, and the other boys you knew growing up as well. You all get along. It’ll be good for him.”
“Oh Ada!” George replies with a knowing chuckle, smoothing the front of his tie down.
“What George?”
“Bert doesn’t want his old dad tagging along when…” His eyes glint with mischief from within the wrinkles of flesh around them.
“When what, George?” Ada persists.
“When there are also ladies joining he and Conlin Campbell.” He chuckles playfully again.
Ada’s gaze swings back to her son. “Is this true, Bert?” she asks with incredulity. “You didn’t mention any of the girls were joining you this evening.”
“Well,” Bert shrinks in his seat. “You… you didn’t ask… specifically… Mum.”
Ada eyes her son. “Very well. Now I’m asking. Who else is joining you at the Royal Oak this evening, Bert?”
“Only Jeannie Duttson and Alice Dunn, Mum.” Bert splutters, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he speaks, making George chuckle again. “No-one special.”
“I told you, Alice Dunn was asking after you!” Ada crows triumphantly, clapping her hands. “Didn’t I?”
“Alice was only being polite, Mum! She fancies Conlin, not me, and I certainly don’t fancy Alice Dunn.” Bert reddens further. “But I do rather fancy Jeannie Duttson.”
“Any blind man could tell that at New Year!” George laughs loudly.
“Dad!” Bert cringes.
“I didn’t!” Ada remarks in surprise.
“You were too busy playing gracious hostess, Mrs. Watsford.” George says, bowing melodramatically before his wife.
“Jeannie Duttson!” Ada breathes. “Well fancy that!”
“She’s a good sort, is Jeannie Duttson,” George opines.
“She is!” Ada agrees with a beaming smile. “Jeannie has a good head on her shoulders, just what Bert needs!”
“And she’s pretty.” George winks cheekily at his son.
“She’s got herself a nice little job as a typist at Drummond’s Solicitors up on the High Street.” Ada goes on.
“Oh yes! With… with…” George clicks his fingers as he tries to remember the name of the last of Edith’s old school chums who came to celebrate at the Watsford’s on New Year’s Eve.
“Katy Bramall.” Bert replies.
“That’s it, Bert!” George says with a satisfied sigh. “Clever boy. Katy Bramall.”
“Katy’s stepping out with a supervisor from the Holborn exchange********************.” Bert goes on.
“Is she now?” George replies with little interest. “Bully for her*********************!” Returning the conversation to Bert’s potential budding relationship with Jeannie, he addresses his wife. “Bert could do far worse than the likes of Jeannie Duttson, like that flibbertigibbet, Alice Dunn.”
“Oh George!” Ada chides her husband, scoffing. “Alice is lovely!”
“She’s an idle gossip, just like her mother.” George retorts. “No, let Conlin Campbell have her if he so pleases. You’ve picked the right young lady out of those two, Bert my boy.”
“So, when’s the big day then?” Ada asks Bert jokingly.
“Oh Mum!” he replies, smiling sheepishly. “Isn’t one potential wedding enough for this family?”
*The SS Demosthenes was a British steam ocean liner and refrigerated cargo ship which ran scheduled services between London and Australia via Cape Town. It stopped at ports including those in Sydney and Melbourne. She was launched in 1911 in Ireland for the Aberdeen Line and scrapped in 1931 in England. In the First World War she was an Allied troop ship.
**Believe it or not, but dried peas have been a part of the British diet for a very long time, dating back to the start of agriculture in Britain, approximately 6,000 years ago. Evidence suggests peas were one of the earliest crops cultivated in Britain, along with wheat, barley, and broad beans. The practice of drying peas to preserve them also dates back to this period, with green or yellow split peas being boiled to create mushy peas or pease pudding. While the exact date of their introduction to England is difficult to pinpoint, it's clear that dried peas were a staple food source in the Middle Ages, and later became popular dishes like mushy peas. The Carlin pea, a specific variety of dried pea, is known to have been eaten in northern England since the Twelfth Century. In the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, the preference shifted towards fresh, green peas, often referred to as "garden peas". However, dried peas continued to be a part of the British culinary landscape, particularly in regional dishes and later in the Twentieth Century in fish-and-chip shops. By the mid 1920s, when this story is set, dried peas were readily available in branded packages at local grocers.
***The first Bisto product, in 1908, was a meat-flavoured gravy powder, which rapidly became a bestseller in Britain. It was added to gravies to give a richer taste and aroma. Invented by Messrs Roberts and Patterson, it was named "Bisto" because it "Browns, Seasons and Thickens in One". Bisto Gravy is still a household name in Britain and Ireland today, and the brand is currently owned by Premier Foods.
****The phrase "an army marches on its stomach" means that the supply of food is essential for a military campaign's success. It highlights the crucial role of logistics, specifically ensuring that soldiers have adequate provisions to stay healthy and strong while on the move. In essence, the saying emphasizes that a well-fed army is a capable army. Without sufficient sustenance, soldiers would be weakened, unable to march long distances or engage effectively in battle. This proverb is often attributed to Napoleon Bonaparte, who understood the importance of logistics in his military campaigns.
*****The vicar of All Souls Parish Church in Harlesden between 1918 and 1927 was Ernest Arnold Dunn. Whilst I cannot find any details about his family life, I’d like to think that he was a happily married man of god and could well have had a daughter named Alice who no doubt played the organ in church on Sundays.
******The parish of All Souls, Harlesden, was formed in 1875 from Willesden, Acton, St John's, Kensal Green, and Hammersmith. Mission services had been held by the curate of St Mary's, Willesden, at Harlesden institute from 1858. The parish church at Station Road, Harlesden, was built and consecrated in 1879. The town centre church is a remarkable brick octagon designed by E.J. Tarver. Originally there was a nave which was extended in 1890 but demolished in 1970.
*******A "farthing breakfast" was a cheap meal, typically offered by organizations like The Salvation Army, the Church of England and other religious institutions and charities to children in need, for a farthing (the smallest coin in the British monetary system). A farthing breakfast generally consisted of a slice of bread with jam or margarine, often with cocoa to drink.
********The phrase "swear like a sailor" is a common idiom that has been used for a long time to describe someone who uses a lot of curse words or swear words. It is rooted in the stereotype of sailors, who have historically been known for their colorful and sometimes crude language. The term "sailor" in this context doesn't necessarily refer to someone who works on a ship, but rather to the characteristics associated with seafaring life, such as a reputation for being boorish and using foul language.
*********Parboiling potatoes before roasting is a common and recommended technique for achieving a crispy exterior and fluffy interior. Parboiling helps to soften the potatoes and create a starchy slurry, which contributes to the formation of a crispy crust during roasting.
**********The Sunday roast is a deeply ingrained British tradition, typically featuring a roasted meat dish, usually beef, but in less well-off families, like the Watsfords, chicken or another cheaper meat would suffice, along with a variety of sides like Yorkshire pudding, roasted vegetables, and gravy. This meal is often enjoyed as a family gathering after a Sunday church service, with roots tracing back to the Fifteenth Century in the British Isles.
***********Roundwood Park takes its name from Roundwood House, an Elizabethan-style mansion built in Harlesden for Lord Decies in around 1836. In 1892 Willesden Local Board, conscious of a need for a recreation ground in expanding Harlesden, started the process of buying the land for what is now Roundwood Park. Roundwood Park was built in 1893, designed by Oliver Claude Robson. He was allocated nine thousand pounds to lay out the park. He put in five miles of drains, and planted an additional fourteen and a half thousand trees and shrubs. This took quite a long time as he used local unemployed labour for this work in preference to contractors. Mr. Robson had been the Surveyor of the Willesden Local Board since 1875. As an engineer, he was responsible for many major works in Willesden including sewerage and roads. The fine main gates and railings were made in 1895 by Messrs. Tickner & Partington at the Vulcan Works, Harrow Road, Kensal Rise. An elegant lodge house was built to house the gardener; greenhouses erected to supply new flowers, and paths constructed, running upward to the focal point-an elegant bandstand on the top of the hill. The redbrick lodge was in the Victorian Elizabethan style, with ornamented chimney-breasts. It is currently occupied by council employees although the green houses have been demolished. For many years Roundwood Park was home to the Willesden Show. Owners of pets of many types, flowers and vegetables, and even 'bonny babies' would compete for prizes in large canvas tents. Art and crafts were shown, and demonstrations of dog-handling, sheep-shearing, parachuting and trick motorcycling given.
************The saying "to put the cat among the pigeons" is a British idiom that means to cause a disturbance or controversy, often by introducing something that is unexpected or unwanted. It refers to the commotion that would occur if a cat were to enter a group of pigeons, as the pigeons would likely become frightened and scattered. The phrase's origins are thought to be linked to a popular pastime in colonial India, where people would place a wild cat in a pen with pigeons and bet on how many birds the cat would catch with one swipe. This activity would naturally cause a great deal of commotion and disturbance among the pigeons. Over time, the phrase evolved to describe any situation where something is done that is likely to cause a stir or a lot of fuss. It implies that the action will disrupt things and lead to a reaction, often negative, from those involved.
*************The London suburb of Elephant and Castle, south of the Thames, past Lambeth was known as "the Piccadilly Circus of South London" because it was such a busy shopping precinct. When you went shopping there, it was commonly referred to by Londoners, but South Londoners in particular, as “going up the Elephant”.
**************Tea leaf reading, also known as tasseography, is a form of divination that involves interpreting the patterns and shapes of tea leaves left in a cup after the tea has been consumed.
***************Located at 95 High Street, Harlesden, the Royal Oak Tavern and Railway Hotel, as it was originally known, was built circa 1880 when Harlesden was at its boom as a smart middle-class London suburb, replacing a building on the site from 1757. The two-storey building featured Venetian blinds and a huge gaslight outside. This in turn was replaced by today’s 1892 re-build. Designed in the baroque style, it is four-storeys in height, built of red brick with stone banding and features a lot of ornate stone detailing. The Royal Oak still features its original 1892 tiles in the hallway, which depicts a Parliamentarian trooper hunting for King Charles II after the Battle of Worcester in 1651. King Charles hid in an oak tree, hence the name Royal Oak. Between 1914 and 1926, the pub was licenced by Mr. George Whitehead, (thus Ada’s mention of George and Mrs. Whitehead in her conversation with her husband and son).
****************Removable or detachable collars were shirt collars designed to be separate from the shirt itself and fastened with studs or other mechanisms. They were popular in the Nineteenth and early Twentieth centuries, primarily among men who wore white shirts as part of their business or formal attire.
*****************The four-in-hand knot is a classic and simple necktie knot, popular in Britain since the 1850s, known for its ease of tying and slightly asymmetrical appearance. It's a versatile knot that can be worn for various occasions, from casual to formal.
******************Muddle-puddling is an old-fashioned term for dallying and taking your time.
*******************"Best bib and tucker" is an old-fashioned expression meaning one's finest or most formal clothes. It refers to putting on one's best outfit, often for a special occasion. While the phrase itself is used now, the items "bib" and "tucker" are less common in everyday clothing. A "bib" was a frill or ornamental piece at the front of a man's shirt, and a "tucker" was a decorative piece of lace or fabric that covered the neck and shoulders of a woman.
********************Before 1927 when there was a shift to automatic “Director” telephone exchanges, London had numerous manual exchanges, each with a specific These exchanges were operated by human operators who connected calls manually. This included HOL for the Holborn Exchange, which was also the first to be converted to a “Director” exchange, followed by others like Bishopgate and Sloane.
*********************The phrase “bully for someone” was usually used to express admiration of approval, but is often used ironically, especially when you do not think that someone has done anything special but they want you to praise them.
This cluttered, yet cheerful domestic scene is not all it seems to be at first glance, for it is made up of part of my 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures collection. Some pieces come from my own childhood. Other items I acquired as an adult through specialist online dealers and artists who specialise in 1:12 miniatures.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
Ada’s kitchen table is covered with things in preparation for her special Sunday roast.
On the chopping board and the table you will see potatoes and carrots. There are more in the small white bowl and on the table. They, the onion and the shallots come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering, England. The kitchen knife on the chopping board with its inlaid handle and sharpened blade comes from English miniatures specialist Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniature store. Ada’s lovely shiny saucepans complete with peas, potatoes and carrots in them come from 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 floral gravy boat containing gravy was also made by her. The blue and white grape patterned jug comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom. The box of Bisto Gravy Powder, Ideal Finest Dried Peas and Oxo stock cube box were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire with great detail paid to the packaging.
The first Bisto product, in 1908, was a meat-flavoured gravy powder, which rapidly became a bestseller in Britain. It was added to gravies to give a richer taste and aroma. Invented by Messrs Roberts and Patterson, it was named "Bisto" because it "Browns, Seasons and Thickens in One". Bisto Gravy is still a household name in Britain and Ireland today, and the brand is currently owned by Premier Foods.
Oxo is a brand of food products, including stock cubes, herbs and spices, dried gravy, and yeast extract. The original product was the beef stock cube, and the company now also markets chicken and other flavour cubes, including versions with Chinese and Indian spices. The cubes are broken up and used as flavouring in meals or gravy or dissolved into boiling water to produce a bouillon. Oxo produced their first cubes in 1910 and further increased Oxo's popularity.
In the background you can see Ada’s dark Welsh dresser cluttered with household items. Like Ada’s table and the ladderback chair, I have had the dresser since I was a child. The shelves of the dresser have different patterned crockery which have come from different miniature stockists both in Australia and the United Kingdom. The rather worn and beaten looking enamelled cannisters and bread bin are painted in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green. Aged on purpose, these artisan pieces also came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop. There are also tins of various foods which would have been household staples in the 1920s when canning and preservation revolutinised domestic cookery. Amongst other foods on the dresser are a jar of Marmite and a jar of Bovril which were also made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
Marmite is a food spread made from yeast extract which although considered remarkably English, was in fact invented by German scientist Justus von Liebig although it was originally made in the United Kingdom. It is a by-product of beer brewing and is currently produced by British company Unilever. The product is notable as a vegan source of B vitamins, including supplemental vitamin B. Marmite is a sticky, dark brown paste with a distinctive, salty, powerful flavour. This distinctive taste is represented in the marketing slogan: "Love it or hate it." Such is its prominence in British popular culture that the product's name is often used as a metaphor for something that is an acquired taste or tends to polarise opinion.
Bovril is the trademarked name of a thick and salty meat extract paste similar to a yeast extract, developed in the 1870s by John Lawson Johnston. It is sold in a distinctive bulbous jar, and as cubes and granules. Bovril is owned and distributed by Unilever UK. Its appearance is similar to Marmite and Vegemite. Bovril can be made into a drink ("beef tea") by diluting with hot water or, less commonly, with milk. It can be used as a flavouring for soups, broth, stews or porridge, or as a spread, especially on toast in a similar fashion to Marmite and Vegemite
The large kitchen range in the background is a 1:12 miniature replica of the coal fed Phoenix Kitchen Range. A mid-Victorian model, it has hinged opening doors, hanging bars above the stove and a little bass hot water tap (used in the days before plumbed hot water).
