There are days when one revels in being an international woman of design who means business, not to mention leading charity organiser and semi activated agent for the nation’s security. It would indeed be difficult to decide at which of these spheres of influence I most excel and therefore I think we can settle on all equally. It is no wonder that there are days when one either wants to luxuriate under the candlewick or lounge in one’s award winning garden (see Scotland’s Gardens Scheme – the gold section).
Today I have decided to give myself permission to ignore the latest Scandinavian designs, put aside preparations for the Sale of Work in aid of the Home for Fallen Women and not give a second thought about the fate of Dame Margot Fonteyn and her diplomat husband Dr Roberto Arias since the Handsome Stranger and I got her out of Panama in an as yet unexplained adventure.
I have been very busy. I imagine it might surprise you, particularly those of you living in the smugger parts of the United Kingdom that Scotland in June is a rather hectic place. For us who are regarded as “those and such as those” life can be exhausting. However, if we were not playing a role in all the social engagements of the season ordinary people would have nothing to gawp at from their tenement windows on long summer days.
There is for example The Royal Highland Show, this year in Aberdeen, which is in the north. (Only go if you have to.)
We motored up in our rather elderly Humber Super Snipe with Lady Pentland-Firth and were there on the same day as the Queen Mother (never puts a foot wrong) who spent a strenuous 5 hours in 70˚ heat. Any warmth in Aberdeen needs to be absorbed while it can as it is a rare commodity.
I was close enough to Her Majesty, (who was in pale lilac wild silk) to hear her say “What a perfect day in a perfect setting for a perfect show.” It reminded me of my elocution classes at school when we had to recite ‘I’d like a perfect cup of coffee or a perfect cup of tea’. “Why” responded Jasper who does not care for the royal family being a miserable socialist like that Harold Wilson, “one would think they were almost ordinary people.” “There is no need for sarcasm Jasper” said Lady Pentland-Firth. “Why, indeed Patience you are right. I have seen her, with my very own eyes, sniff a rose, pat a Jersey cow and receive a gift of a length of tartan.” “And” ventured Patience Pentland-Firth, “she had the courtesy to say ‘thank you I am needing a new kilt’.” “Oh really! This is ridiculous!” exclaimed Jasper, who resented being dragged away from his Museum in a Shed for a day, “But Patience considering you are part or the triangle that holds the whole edifice in place what should one expect. Anyway shouldn’t that be I need a new kilt ” “Oh naughty Jasper” said Patience, “I do love it when your faux working class indignation gets the better of you.” As Jasper by this point had worked himself into a revolutionary frenzy we let him go into the tent featuring Agricultural Bygones while we went for tea and like Her Majesty had scones and strawberry tarts.
To make up for Jasper being forced to spend the afternoon with lots of landowners, I took him out for lunch and then to Glasgow Art Galleries and Museum to see their Summer Exhibitions.
He was not particularly interested in ‘Costume Accessories 1760- 1930’, although I had a quick peek while he was in ‘Archaeology in Modern China’. Interesting to see some of my grandmother’s finery on display The Lochheads have always been great supporters of the Museum, even if my grandfather was the one responsible for it being built back to front. Never go to a Glasgow Corporation Planning meeting on a Friday afternoon when the Lord Provost has open drinks cabinet!
What interested Jasper most, however, were the new displays featuring ‘Photographs of Volcanoes and Geological Stamps’. He has recently begun a stamp collection for our ward Gayle and is always looking for inspiration. Inevitably he was taken with ‘Uniforms of the Volunteers’. The Glasgow middle classes have always been taken with the concept of being weekend and summer soldiers, but I suppose accountancy has to have its compensations. I could see the way Jasper’s mind was turning and I said “Jasper I know your World War I Exhibition in a shed was a huge success, but please no more war or military matters at the bottom of the garden. The lawn is only just recovering from the trenches.”
If you think Glasgow evenings in June are for relaxing, then think again. For these long light nights are filled with activity. Chief among these are the Scottish National Orchestra Promenade Concerts at The St Andrew’s Halls. We went see Sir Adrian Boult conduct the orchestra with the Chorus of The Royal Scottish Academy of Music. The programme included ‘The Overture to Merry Wives of Windsor’ by Nicolai, Faure’s ‘Pavane’ and Mozart’s ‘Piano Concerto K491’ with Nina Milkina as the pianist. The second half was more to Jasper’s taste with Ireland’s ‘These things Shall be, and Songs of the Fleet’ featuring the soloist William McCue. We had the 6 shilling tickets.
It was a bit of a mistake taking my business partner and cousin, Lulubelle, who is an American and said the whole evening would have been improved with a banjo and a washboard.
In between all of this, of course, business must go on and I found myself in Paisley, where thankfully the mill workers have returned to work after a strike lasting almost six weeks. Fortunately I have a good stockpile of thread as one never knows when one might be required to employ a good running stitch or embroider a tray cloth. My reason for being there was to furnish a flat for the Council. Actually these are quite important flats being the first 15 storey flats ever to be erected in Scotland. The Town Council is enormously proud of them and my efforts are for publicity photographs to show how the town is embracing high rise living as a solution to the housing needs of the town.
Such is the pace of transformation in our lives. It is all room dividers and electric central heating now. I cannot help but think electricity will prove to be expensive and high rise living lonely. And what happens when the lifts break down? There will also be less social interaction when the women of the flats go shopping as this will shortly be in a range of self service store or supermarkets. These are the inevitable outcome of branding, advertising and pre-packaging . It is all very clever as demand is created before the customer even approaches the shop, costs are cut by removing staff behind counters and costly weighing and wrapping are no longer necessary. The removal of counters saves space and the customer is cleverly doing half the work herself by fetching and carrying. Call me old fashioned, but who wants to go into a shop to work Added to which all that packaging is going to be very wasteful. Apparently it is a “revolution in retailing”. Looks to me like the bazaar re-invented. Never the less Cousin Lulubelle says there is money to be made in advising purveyors of pre-packaged goods about “the shopping experience”.
With all this going on, I have decided to have a day to myself in my garden with the radio (it’s Samuel Becket’s Embers this afternoon) and a glass of Noilly Prat, which is very refreshing on a warm summer’s day or as they say “zestful and invigorating”. The manufactures suggest that constantly repeating Nolly Prat will improve one’s French. Of course my French does not need improving. After all I was behind enemy lines in the last Unpleasantness and hold the Legion d’Honneur for my bravery. During interrogation after blowing up a bridge, I had my powder compact and lipstick removed by the Gestapo. The President of France said this was above and beyond the call of duty and said I should always consider myself a daughter of the French Republic and that La Marseillaise should be played whenever I stepped on French soil.
Apparently I was the inspiration for that scene of defiance by the French in the film Casablanca. I said it was nothing and that bloody-mindedness was a Glaswegian characteristic, even on the south side. The trouble with Noilly Prat is it suggests one goes for a “Short Noilly” which is neat with a zest of lemon peel, squeezed and then dropped into the glass. I have been practising my dropping in all afternoon and it is as they say “magnificent”. Just in case I have made the wrong choice I have also tried “Long Noilly” which “is guaranteed to cool off hot tempers”. This requires “2 fingers of Noilly Prat”, a tumbler full of ice and soda water. I cannot decide which I like best, so I have had several of each and will make a decision later.
Talking of short things did you read about that trial at the Court of Session in Edinburgh involving an “undersized husband” and a much taller wife? Well it has been all over the papers and the really surprising thing is that they come from Milngavie, which is on the north side and therefore nominally perfectly normal. Anyway in this case before Lord Guthrie “a diminutive husband” claimed that his wife “who towers above him and is of stronger physique” made him take his meals in the garden or even prepare his own meals on a primus stove in his shed.
The evidence suggested that this was something of a squalid story with a woman who was full of malice, hot temper and furthermore had a foul tongue which is not something one expects in Balvie Crescent Milngavie. The poor man who is only 5 feet 1inch, is of “spare physique” with a tendency to anxiety and depression, which is the result of war wounds to the head resulting in a 100% disability pension.
Lord Guthrie in summing up said she had declined to provide him with food and called him a “pig”, “swine”, “that”, “It “ and “an undersized person not fit to be lived with”. Not only that but she insisted that the living room curtains should be kept drawn to prevent him from looking out and attracting attention or “making signs to girls passing in buses”. Any unexpected knocking on the door she put down to the bus girls coming to rescue him. To prevent this, their sons were made to stay at home to keep an eye on him and repel any bus girls.
On one occasion she threatened him with a hatchet which he managed to wrestle from her despite being undersized and threw it out of the window into the garden which is not something one often sees in Milngavie where marigolds and lobelia are more usual. He was not allowed to use a towel which is odd as most men have to be instructed that it is a good alternative to the backs of trouser legs.
While in bed he was threatened with death by knitting needle and on one occasion she hit him on the head from behind a door with a sweeping brush before splitting his scalp with an empty lemonade bottle. As there is aa aerated water factory in Milngavie these would be freely available in most households. I just hope it was not Cream Soda as this is a rather common beverage and the sort of thing to which people add ice cream to make “a float.” I hope it goes without saying that that Noilly Prat people would not partake of an ice cream float.
Oh yes, in case you are wondering Lord Guthrie granted the decree of divorce to the undersized man. I cannot help but notice they both live at different addresses in Balvie Cresent. I can’t imagine they will both be at a summer drinks party with the neighbours.
“Oh Mrs Travers there you are. Could you bring some more soda water please and a slice of lemon I am going to try these two drinks again. By the way are you surprised by undersized men?”
“Aren’t they all undersized Mrs Wylie? Except in their imagination. And of course having been married to Mr Travers who was carrying on with Busty Betty down by the canal, I am surprised by nothing.”
“Would you make a man eat in the garden or from a primus stove in his shed?”
“I cannot think of anywhere more suitable for men to eat other than the garden – such messy creatures. As to primus stoves, well I would be surprised if many could operate one. Anyway trouble is Mrs W many of us do not have gardens. So we rely on the chippy and hope they have finished their fish suppers before they can get the key in the lock, or you wake up with half a dozen chips on your pillow. Oh here comes Mr Wylie. Will I bring another tumbler?”
“Yes do and a smaller one for the ‘Noilly Short’ in case Jasper cannot make up his mind either.”
“Jasper I am down here .”
“Muriel are you all right? You look a little flushed.”
“Never felt better Jasper, simply marvellous. Now Jasper do tell me do you ever peek out of the drawing room curtains at girls on buses?”
“We are not on a bus route Muriel.”
“Jasper you know I would always feed you even if you were an undersized husband of diminutive size with war wounds to the head.”
“Mrs Travers do you think you could bring some coffee. I think Mrs Wylie has been getting a little too much sun.”
À bientôt
Dans le jardin
June 1959
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