In case you have been looking for me either at my enviable house in Glasgow’s West End or indeed at the rural bolt hole in Dumfriesshire, where it is forever the 18th century, I am not at home.
I am having “fika” in Stockholm which is in Sweden quite near Scandinavia. To be precise I am in the bar of The Grand Hotel, second table to the left beside the window. I am looking out on ships loading and unloading (always good to see men at work, so rare) while enjoying my cardamom bun enormously. I am thinking of asking the pastry chef for the recipe as these would be just the thing for a fundraising coffee morning for The Home for Fallen Women. Or indeed to try and impress any prospective new minster for our current vacancy, which apparently is considered “a tough posting.” I cannot understand why – it was hardly my fault we clashed over the soup and pudding lunches and he is now institutionalised.
I have just had a few words with Greta Garbo who is passing through, who said she never said “I want to be alone”. “What I said was I want to be left alone.” “That’s quite a difference” I replied, and she said “That’s what I said.” Greta hoped I was not finding Stockholm in February too “eternally grey – these long winter nights are exhausting”.
In truth it is dark very early and it’s very cold, but it is a dry cold. Unlike the west of Scotland which is always so damp. I have come prepared with furs hats and gloves and in fact the sun has been shining. There is, however, ice in the Baltic which shows it is still winter, but I rather like it floating down the river like crazy paving and the skyline of the city is simply marvellous.
Jasper and I are here, along with Mrs Travers, (after all someone needs to dust my matching luggage) at the request of my cousin and business partner, Lulubelle. Unfortunately my cousin has a financial interest in my interior decorating company ‘Chez Nous’. She says if the business is to survive we have to embrace the modern and look at furnishing the new houses that are being built across Britain, “thanks to Mr Macmillan’s Conservative government.” My words, not Lulubelle’s – she doesn’t care what government is in power as she says they all have their price and “Huny, li’le ole me can afford it.”
I however, believe the Conservatives know how to spend the money unlike ‘the come and get it brigade’ supported by Jasper. Talking of him, he has gone with someone from the Consulate’s trade section to the cinema to see The Seventh Seal, a new film by Ingmar Bergman, who is all the rage. It is set in Sweden during the Black Death. Frankly it did not sound a bundle of laughs to moi and I would put money on Jasper being asleep by the first seal.
Jasper rather fancies himself as a cinema buff. I only had to hear that it is influenced by Carmina Burana and Strindberg and I knew a spicy pastry was by far the better option. I believe it is all connected with The Book of Revelations which I have always considered in need of complete rewriting – far too morbid to be wholesome.
I have to say I find Stockholm a most attractive city. It is full of wonderful buildings and walking along by the water and crossing over onto all the little islands is a treat. The buildings in the Old Town are very colourful and the people throughout the city are friendly.
They are very stylish in an austere way. While the shop windows are colourful the people dress in an almost uniform monochrome. There chosen palette is black and grey, but perhaps this is just for winter. I feel in my vibrant colours I may be sticking out a little and you know how I try to avoid being too noticeable. I have been wandering around soaking up the atmosphere.
In the Norrmalm District, I have done a great deal of window shopping along Drottninggatan and Hamngaten where there is the most marvellous Department Store, Nordiska Kompaniet, known locally as NK.
What I particularly like is that at night all the apartments have occasional lamps in their windows, with curtains open. This is very cheerful and welcoming and if I could encourage this in the Glasgow tenements it would do wonders for the appearance of the city at night and my sales of table lamps.
A very helpful gentleman in the Consular Department met us at the airport when we arrived. It seems my reputation for gracious living has reached the ears of the Swedish Royal family and we were invited to one of Queen Louise’s famous informal lunches at the Royal Palace on the island of Gamla Stan. Jasper rather groaned at this as he is something of a republican.
As it turned out the King Gustaf Adolf VI is a bit of a reformer himself and they got on like a house on fire. The King, like Jasper, is something of an amateur archaeologist and Jasper was thrilled when the King said he would point out where the 17th century ship Vasa lies and how they are planning to bring it to the surface and have a museum built around it. Apparently it was launched and was so top heavy it sank almost immediately.
Now I am no marine architect, but in a nation which prides itself on its design ability one would have thought that even in the 17th century the major Baltic power would have got the hang of building a boat. Mind you, having said that, the sailing yacht that Jasper takes to the boating pond to amuse Gayle, our ward, seems incapable of staying upright so perhaps it is a common fault. Dare I suggest it might need a woman to have a look at things, after all I am sure if one can produce an apricot soufflé without collapse, a ship going a few yards out in the harbour should be within the bounds of possibility. It must have been quite embarrassing. Imagine if the same thing happened with the Queen or Princess Margaret at John Brown’s shipyard on the Clyde.
Of course I didn’t say that to the King. We simply talked about ancient Italian cultures and rhododendrons. His Majesty is an expert on the latter and he has given me a couple of cuttings, which will certainly put Mrs Macaulay’s nose out of joint. She is my neighbour and the wife of a wealthy, but vulgar, bungalow builder who has on more than one occasion chased me around the sofa, when he thought no one, was looking. Fortunately Mrs Travers, our woman what does, but not a lot, managed to put something in his tea, which kept him housebound for several days.
Mrs Macaulay has a new green house the size of Kew Gardens, which she never tires of telling us about, but she has not got rhododendrons from the King of Sweden, near Scandinavia. That will certainly put her gas on a peep.
The King has been married twice, firstly to a granddaughter of Queen Victoria who sadly died young and now to Lady Louise Mountbatten. She is the sister of Dickie Mountbatten. They used to be Battenbergs until King George V decided it was unseemly for the British Royal family to be named after a two coloured cake covered in marzipan.
I am myself rather partial to a slice of Battenberg, but during the first Unpleasantness we knew it as window cake. Just of course as the German Biscuit became The Empire Biscuit. I am sure you have all had my emergency Empire Biscuit recipe – two Royal Scots sandwiched together; shop bought jam if you must, some icing and a glacé cherry. If you have not please send S.A.E. and I will see what I can do.
On the subject of Sweden and the last Unpleasantness this, like the obvious top heavy nature of The Vasa, was a subject I avoided talking about with their Majesties. It would have rather rude. There is as Jasper pointed out something of a question over their “neutrality” or rather “non belligerency” which makes for good essay questions in the varsity in Glasgow. Their trading activities were questionable from an allied point of view, but on the other hand the facility offered to Jewish people may have saved many lives. Still who in war is free from blame entirely?
We did talk about architecture. I admired the Stadhuset or City Hall and we spoke about the Hyde Park Hotel in London where like moi, Queen Louise likes to stay when she is in Knightsbridge for shopping. Apparently she has something of a reputation for jaywalking and carries a sign suggesting drivers beware as she is the Queen of Sweden. She did laugh when I said if someone did that in Byres Road they would end up helping our former minister with his basket weaving class.
Other Things Not To Mention
One of the interesting people we met at luncheon was a young carpenter who favours modernist designs. He began with mail order items and has subsequently moved into furniture which is very popular. He wondered if his firm IKEA might be popular in Scotland. I said I couldn’t see why not as his designs might suit the smaller home, but I advised him that the Scots were wedded to the concept of the three piece suite which is a status symbol he tampers with at his peril.
He is considering a self-assembly range with bookcases to be called “Billy”. Again I thought this a possibility, but had to explain to him why there might be certain parts of Glasgow where an item named “Billy” might not go down well while on the other hand there are some parts where it will be a runaway success. It seems this young man has a reading difficulty which is why he gives all his pieces of furniture such simple names. I am wondering what the “Muriel” might look like? Sleek stylish and yet colourful, I shouldn’t wonder.
Converted
Well despite my reservations about coming here, I have to admit it is a very fashionable and stylish place. The streets are wide and open and the shop windows decorated with such care that I have one or two ideas to take back with me. There is a wonderful interior design shop called Svenskt Tenn, which is the Swedish equivalent of ‘Chez Nous’. It was founded in 1924 by Estrid Ericson, who was an art teacher and pewter craftswoman. Her friend Joseph Frank, the architect, is a favourite textile designer of mine. He specialises in cotton and linen. I also am rather taken with the work of Astrid Sampe who works for Nordiska Kompaniet.
She manages to produce designs for mass production and yet retain Nordic design traditions. Her folk inspired designs are all the rage. I am not quite sure, however, about her fibre glass curtains, it is going to take quite a skilled machinist to hold a hem in a sewing machine.
There is simplicity about all the designs I have seen and yet there are bold colours and everything relates to everything else. This includes glass, flatware and ceramics as well as furniture. I was sceptical about some of the furniture particularly the sticky oot legs, but many of them are actually quite elegant.
I am not sure about plastic upholstery although I image its wipe clean nature would be beneficial in a household like that of Mrs Travers where they all have sticky fingers. Jasper says it all stems from politics and Sweden’s Social Democratic tradition just after the First World War and the belief that good design was important for all. I cannot disagree that good design is important but I hope this is not drifting too much in the direction of the comrades.
On the other hand the glass is lovely. I am quite the convert and I am thinking of making one or two changes at home to reflect modernism and I strongly suspect that there is a market for these designs in the ever stylish Glasgow (Edinburgh is a different story). I do not want to become trapped in the past and I am quite sure gracious living can be adapted to the second half of the 20th century without sacrificing principles and standards. I can do wonders with a ceramic vase and a few bent twigs you know.
Jasper Is Back From The Cinema
“Oh Jasper there you are; how was Ingmar Bergman?”
“Pretty heavy going Muriel. In fact I fell asleep quite quickly and then when I woke up I nipped out to see a man about a dog and went to see a Swedish comedy called Froken Chic, about a talent scout with a singing lumberjack who runs off with the funds. Much funnier than all that death, even in a foreign language.”
“I did try to tell you Jasper, but what about the poor chap from the Embassy? Ooh look there’s Ingrid Bergman!”
“Indeed Muriel. He was asleep too. I just left him. I am hungry and I cannot do anymore Swedish cinema.”
“I said Ingrid, not Ingmar. Anyway what would you like Jasper; would you like to stay here and get something?”
“No Muriel. I would like to go somewhere simpler and more homely and have meatballs and mashed potatoes with pickle and berries.”
“But we had that last night Jasper.”
“I know but it’s either that or herring and I like meat balls.”
“Better get Mrs Travers.”
“She’s over there talking to Ingrid Bergman.”
Muriel Wylie
Stockholm near Scandinavia February 1959
“So what did you say?”
“ I said go on hen jis dae it fur me, a poor old wuman, what does but not much, trapped in Sweden near Scandinavia for a week dusting matching luggage and missing ma nicht at the Eastern Star.”
“So what did she say Mrs T?”
“She said Dee Di-Dee-Di-Dee-Di………”
“That’s the film I thought I was going to see.”
“Oh Jasper!”
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