MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 34

What on earth is going on, weather-wise? Yet another few inches of snow have been dumped on the bower, which is looking more like an igloo at the moment rather than the rose and clematis haven of summer. The daffodils, which were just about to bloom, have become bent and spoilt under a snowy coat, whilst the crocuses have more or less given up. A week ago, the weather was perfect – although the wind was a bit chilly, the sun was warming and Hatfield Forest was a joy, with the mallards pairing up and the coots pottering around busily.

I’ve spent a couple of days sorting out my jewellery. Now, before you become too excited, in my case ‘jewellery’ actually means, in the words of the song from the musical Kismet, ‘Baubles, bangles, bright shiny beads’. I’m very fond of beads, probably due to spending most of the mid-sixties and early seventies with several strings of them around my neck – as well as a hippy cow bell, though perhaps we won’t go into that!  That was a great time, wasn’t it? Before the hippy scene became seedy and disreputable? When it started out, girls were wearing flowers and giving them to passers-by – it was initially a gentle trend.

‘If you’re going to San Francisco,

Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair

If you’re going to San Francisco,

You’re going to meet some gentle people there.’

Twiggy Doll

Thus sang Scott McKenzie in 1967, and though not many 1960s’ British teens could afford to go abroad to San Francisco (we couldn’t even afford to hop across the channel to France), it was fun to pretend, and fun to perplex our parents by dressing up in kaftans, smocks and cheesecloth blouses. Boutiques in the King’s Road and Carnaby Street, as well as the ubiquitous C&A store which could be found in every high street, stocked cotton mini dresses and gauzy maxi dresses, which we teemed with sandals or trendy white boots. (In my case, white wellies as I couldn’t afford leather boots! Actually, the wellington boot manufactures very cleverly latched on to the trend and produced short welly boots in white, cream or beige for all of us would-be Twiggys.) We must have looked mad, clumping around, but we thought we were the bee’s pyjamas. Later came psychedelic designs for clothing, in shades of lime, citrus yellow and ‘shocking pink’, as well as the op-art influenced black-and-white plastic raincoats which made your eyes go funny if you stared at them for too long. I still have my op-art mac – it doesn’t fit me now, of course, but it’s a super memory of a carefree youth.

Most of my beads are kept in a large pretty box. They are mainly made from colourful plastic though I do have a few strings of wooden ones as well. It’s so easy to throw on a string or two of beads, unlike a necklace where you spend ages fiddling with a stubborn clasp. Do you remember the plastic popper beads of the 1950s? I was given some when I was a child. They were a great novelty; it was enormous fun to have a long necklace, and, then, by removing some of the beads, make it shorter. And it was a good thing to twiddle with too – each bead had a hole and a peg, and when you pulled the peg from the hole it made a satisfying ‘pop’. We were easily amused back then!  I also had a necklace made from pink, yellow, blue and white plastic daisies which popped together. About thirty years later when my daughter was small, I found an identical necklace in a toy shop – it must have been a popular line to stay in production for so long. I love bangles too. You can buy packs of ten for a couple of pounds in the chain stores, and they jingle very satisfactorily as you move your arms. I like the wider ones as well, which are often decorated with patterns or flowers. When – if – summer ever returns so we can go around with our arms bare, a few bangles look attractive against the bare skin, they don’t seem to look so good with thick jumpers!

There is something of a hippy trend in the shops at the moment, and I have started a sixties’ panel in the kitchen, decorated with signs such as ‘Love’, ‘Peace’, ‘Love Is All You Need’ and ‘Believe’. I found most of these signs in our local garden centre, which has really embraced the movement and hangs beads, signs and 1960s-type decorations from a tree in the gift shop. What I would really like is one which paraphrases the Beatles song to read, ‘Give peas a chance’! That would really be appropriate for the kitchen.

This seems to have been a really convoluted blog entry, and so leads on quite nicely to the news that, for the next few days, my Kindle book ‘Twisty Ends and Tangly Tales’ is on free promotion on Amazon. It’s a collection of short stories, most of which were previously published in women’s magazines during the  1990s and early 2000s, and the stories range from humour, through to romance and twists in the tails. I hope you like it, and if you do maybe you will consider leaving feedback on Amazon. Thank you very much!

MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 33

Ellowynne Wilde - fashion dolls created for adults

I spent Saturday at the V&A Museum of Childhood, Bethnal Green, a great place to visit if you wish to rekindle memories from long ago. The museum was holding a special event,  a ‘Teenage Doll Study Day’, and I had been asked along to be one of the guest speakers. It’s surprising how many enthusiasts love teen dolls – especially Sindy – but many other kinds too. It was the first time I had used a power point presentation with slides, but thankfully, I managed to work it without clicking on the wrong picture. Also, I much preferred the hand-held microphones that were at the museum to the ones that clip on as that kind tend to go wrong on me – they either develop a penetrating whistle or fall off onto the floor!

 I’m sure that many people, whether interested in dolls or not, are aware that the usual type of teenage doll measures around 11-12 inches tall, and is somewhat curvy (or in the case of Barbie, exceedingly curvaceous). Fashion dolls have a long history: by the seventeenth century dolls or ‘mannequins’ were dressed in the latest styles and sent to fashionable ladies so that they could see the correct outfits they should wear at court or when attending grand events. Often, the dolls were shown to dressmakers who copied the outfits, ensuring their customers were up to date with fashion. Yet, centuries before, as far back as the fourteenth century, there are accounts of ‘dolls’ sent to Queens and noble ladies by French costumiers, but it is believed that these were life-sized dummies made to the measurements of the intended recipient.

By the mid-1800s, dolls were made from bisque china with padded kid bodies, to represent a woman’s figure, and were dressed in fashionable garments. These were intended both as gifts for women, but also as playthings for the children of rich parents.  They showed young ladies the correct garments to wear and also, it was hoped, taught them grow up gracefully – the aim being to resemble a neat and tidily-dressed doll. Often these dolls had impressive trousseaus, all beautifully sewn and embroidered.

1930s boudoir doll

The 1920s and 30s saw the influence of Hollywood, as ‘going to the pictures’ became a popular pastime, and resulted in a craze for glamour dolls intended to be show items rather than playthings. These dolls were known as Boudoir Dolls, because their main purpose was to lounge on the bed or couch. Boudoir dolls were often quite large, around 26 inches or so, and had very long legs. They were floppy, usually made from cloth, with faces moulded from silk, muslin or plaster. The glamorous boudoir dolls featured extravagant eye makeup with ultra-long lashes, red cupid’s bow lips, rouged cheeks and elaborate hairstyles. They were dressed in long showy gowns trimmed with ribbons and lace, and sometimes had a cigarette dangling from between their painted fingertips. It was also fashionable for women to carry these large dolls with them when they visited restaurants or met up with friends! I can’t help wondering what their husbands or boyfriends made of it.

1950s 20" teen

In the 1950s, manufacturers began making plastic ‘teenage dolls’ for children. These dolls were still quite large, usually between 16 - 24 inches, and they featured arched feet, which meant they could wear high-heeled shoes. The dolls were dressed in the fashions of the time, which, being the late fifties and early sixties, were surprisingly formal – before the advent of Beatlemania, Mary Quant and the whole ‘Swinging London’ scene, teenage girls tended to dress like their mothers.

However, in 1959, changes were afoot when Barbie, a small, 12” high, plastic doll, was issued in America. This doll, based on a German newspaper character, a ‘good time girl’, proved amazingly popular, although she made little impact in Britain being too sophisticated and hard-featured for British tastes. Then, in 1963, Pedigree introduced Sindy, a 12” high ‘girl next door type’ of doll, dressed in an outfit designed by top fashion 60s designers Tuffin and Foale. When the Pedigree reps approached the owners of toyshops, they were told that they were reluctant to stock such a small doll, being so used to the large fashion teens – but they soon changed their tune when they were inundated by girls who had seen the television advert featuring the small doll in her iconic red, white and blue T-shirt, blue jeans and sneakers. Almost overnight, the larger fashion dolls were discontinued, and many other smaller teens appeared, amongst them Tressy, Pippa, Action Girl, Daisy and Dusty.

Sindy

So, right up till the 1990s, the majority of teen fashion dolls were small – until a gentleman called Mel Odun created a large doll for adult collectors, called Gene. This was a turning point, a completely new idea. Gene was a 1940s’ style doll, with glamorous Hollywood costumes, and was not a plaything. Once more, other manufacturers followed suit, and today there are some stunning fashion dolls around intended for adult collectors, representing various decades from the more formal years of the 1930s, 40s and 50s, right through to today’s ‘anything goes’ fashion styles.

Gene - the turning point in fashion doll design.

Meanwhile, children still play with Barbie (she’s much more acceptable in Britain now, ever since her softer makeovers which began in the 1960s), as well as with Bratz, Liv, Moxie Girlz and all the other small, 12” teen fashion dolls, that fill the toystores. But now grownups can have their own, special doll and indulge in their love of fashion, with dolls made especially for them

Moxie Girlz and Bratz - children's current favourites

Delilah Noir - A doll designed for adults

MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 32

Just two days to go till Mothers’ Day, or, as we officially know it in Britain, Mothering Sunday. It falls on the fourth Sunday in Lent, and at one time was the day that young people in service were allowed home to visit their mother. In fact, sometimes it was the only day that they were allowed home, and so it must have been an extremely important time for the maids, grooms and footmen of the time. Frequently they were given flowers, cakes or eggs to take home as a gift for their mothers.

 Nowadays, as with other events, Mother’s day has become commercialised, and magazines, newspapers and shops are filled with ideas of presents that mother might like, often including such things as diamond rings or designer dresses. Well, maybe we would like those, if we thought our families could afford them – but for most of us, a bunch of flowers, a box of chocolates and, best of all, the gift of our children giving up a few hours of their time to spend with us, are just perfect. As we grow older, Mother’s’ day becomes a bittersweet affair, because although we love the celebrations, we can’t help but think of our own mothers, who in many cases are no longer with us. We recall how we used to make cards and take hours to decide what to buy for her with our pocket money. When I was about nine, I went into Woolworths to buy a present for my Mum. I wasn’t sure what to buy, but eventually gravitated towards the ‘jewellery’ counter, which was always sparkly and pretty. There I saw the most wonderful gift. I was thrilled, because not only – in my eyes – was it beautiful, it was affordable. I handed over my sixpences and the assistant put my purchase in a paper bag.

It was a brooch, with the word ‘Mother’ in fancy writing, and was coloured pink and blue, in a sparkly plastic. I couldn’t wait to see Mum’s face when she opened her present!  Of course, as soon as she unwrapped it, she pinned it to her dress, and I insisted that she wore it to church, which she did. It wasn’t till many years later that she confessed that the brooch made her feel like an old woman! It was the kind of thing that her grandmother would have worn. But she wore it, because she knew that I had put so much thought into it. When she died, I found the brooch in her jewellery box – chipped, faded, but it still said ‘Mother’. Of course, now I see that it was a tacky, plastic brooch – children rarely have good taste – but I could never part with it, because I know that by wearing it she was demonstrating her love for me.

When my daughter was two, she gave me a card that she had made. She wasn’t quite sure of the concept of Mother’s Day, mixing it up with birthdays, so as she handed it to me, she said, ‘A happy to you, muvver’! This phrase has gone into family lore, as has the one which she said a couple of years later as she gave me the bar of soap she had bought me for Mothers’ Day – ‘I saw this, and it was pretty and cheap, so I thought, Mum will like this cheap, pretty soap’!

You may be wondering how the bower has been lately. Well, it’s still here, and seems to have been appropriated by a robin who shelters under the cover from rain, snow or cold. He flutters out when he sees the feeder dishes being refilled. I’m hoping he will nest nearby, as there is a nest box in the hedge. It’s been too chilly to sit out there yet, and although Tuesday was sunny and milder than of late, I didn’t have time to clear the bower of the garden chairs, cushions and various garden tools that seem to gravitate there in the colder months.

On Monday evening, I went to yet another of the excellent talks given by Chris Packham, the well-known naturalist, photographer and television presenter. As usual, he covered a vast range of topics including the lack of larger predators in Britain (he would like to bring back wolves and lynx), his joy at finally seeing a pangolin, the persecution of many British birds of prey, his love of big cats such as lions and tigers, and how much he enjoys photographing smaller, often overlooked species such as pondskaters. On the 16^th of March, I, too, will be giving a talk. Mine will be at the V&A Museum of Childhood at Bethnal Green, during their Teen Doll Study Day. Chris kindly gave me some tips, so if you’d like to know whether  I have remembered them – and assuming you are interested in dolls – why not come along? Details are on their website.

Meanwhile, enjoy the onset of spring. The daffodils are in bud in the garden, the crocuses are in full bloom and the blue tits are investigating the nest boxes. Today, even though it’s pouring with rain and the sky is a grey as an elephant’s skin, I can see all the buds on the bushes, ready to burst into life. And that’s what we celebrate on Mothering Sunday – the gift of life.

.

 

                                                      Thanks, Mum, for everything x

MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 31

What irks me about new handbags is why manufacturers insist on stuffing so much rubbish inside them. I realise they need to give the bag a bit of shape, but often I’ve pulled out so many handfuls of  crumpled paper, plastic bags, cellophane and  bits of cardboard that it’s beyond a joke. I’m a handbag fanatic, though it took a long while for me to realise it. My mother was content to have just a couple of handbags – a dark one for winter and a light one for summer, but somehow, over the years I’ve acquired lots. Many women throw out old bags as they get new ones, but mine are like old friends and I tend to hang onto them unless they are completely unusable. I feel sad when I need to dump a bag because the straps have snapped or the zip has broken.

When our local TKMaxx store opened, I discovered a treasure-trove of beautiful bags and I’ve found some bargains there – even, on occasion a designer bag. Usually, though, I can’t afford expensive designer bags, and to be honest, many of them look rather boring to me. I know women are meant to yearn for classic Gucci or Louis Vuitton handbags costing hundreds of pounds but I’d much rather settle for a pretty, colourful bag costing a fraction of the price. I love colour. I love kookiness – well, I was fortunate enough to have been a sixties teen, so what else could you expect of me?! Floral bags, furry bags, bags with tassels and chain trims, applique bags, abstract bags and bags printed with quirky designs – I love them.

One of my all-time specials is by Baby Phat, a cream and beige bag decorated with dragonflies, butterflies and flowers, as well as chains, charms and silver links, while another, by Fiorelli, is a super, bright multi-coloured ‘snakeskin’ bag that I love to bits and which goes well with anything. It is magnetic, and has various chains which stick to it. I can fiddle with it for hours. Another of which I’m fond is black but covered in vividly-coloured flowers and features a cane handle. A few years ago, in a boutique in York, I acquired a gorgeous evening bag decorated with dolly-mixture beads, and it came with its own matching purse. York also provided me with a beautiful evening bag in a Regency design, sparkling with crystals, which I bought at the Jane Austen Centre. I wish I could use these more but unfortunately they just don’t hold enough. I do like to lug a lot around with me – my daughter regularly accuses me of carrying around a couple of bricks.  I also have a bunny-decorated pink Playboy bag, a couple of bright-colours-on-a-black-background bags by XOXO and a large gold one for when I fancy a bit of bling.

Oh, of course I have plain coloured bags, too – sombre colours for when I need to ‘act my age’ (not often!) – and also bags coloured canary yellow, bright blue, lime and red. My current favourite is a two-tone cerise and deep pink affair with lots of zips and pockets, large enough for me to cram in all my bits and pieces. I still have some of my 1960s/70s treasures – a small beige shoulder bag embroidered with brown beads and featuring a long chain handle, a bright red patent bag that resembles a cube, a purple fabric bag with woollen straps, a faded blue denim bag with plenty of zipped pockets and a bag created from dozens of squares of brightly-coloured leather and suede. One of my bags is made from grey (faux) fur, and reminds me of a cuddly creature so has gained the name of Arthur. I like to use Arthur in cold weather, as he feels comforting! My very first handbag, which I was given when I was eight or nine, was a small light brown leather shoulder bag decorated with pyramids, camels and a swirl of blue sky. I loved it, and needless to say, still have it. A few years later, my aunt gave me my first evening bag, made from black velvet with silver embroidery and a little strap at the back to tuck your fingers under while you were dancing, so you could have your bag with you instead of leaving it on the table.

A quick peek into the handbag I’m using today reveals: a purse, a credit/loyalty card wallet, a wallet containing membership cards for various organisations, pack of tissues, hand gel, mirror, comb, couple of makeup items, keys, phone, Kindle, camera, notebook, three pens, two pencils, address book, asthma inhaler, diary, two pairs of glasses, gloves, ipod, tube of peppermints, perfume, calculator, manicure set and a chequebook (yes, occasionally I still need to write one). Oh, and a worry stone, complete with its own little draw-string bag!  When I go on a longer journey, I take my special ‘emergency’ bag, too. This is a clear zip-up pencil case that includes such things as scissors, sticking plaster, safety pins, sewing kit, tape measure, sellotape, short length of string, pencil sharpener, spare notebook, tweezers, shoehorn, small magnifying glass and a minute atlas of the world! With a bit of luck, I can cram it into my handbag.

A hundred years or so ago, women didn’t have such large bags as they didn’t need to carry so much with them, while in Victorian times a tiny reticule, just large enough to hold a few coins, a hanky and a couple of visiting cards was all that a lady needed. How times have changed!

MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 30

Finally, this weekend, we had just a tiny glimpse of spring. With blue sky and sunshine, there was no way we could stay indoors so we decided to go and find some snowdrops to photograph. The beautiful gardens, created by Sir Frederick Gibberd, the planner of Harlow New Town, are situated on the outskirts of Harlow, and they had advertised that they would be open for three successive Sundays for snowdrop viewing, so that was where we headed.

The garden is charming, with a surprise at every turn – it is filled with sculptures and art works. Here are statues, urns, mobiles and other interesting items, such as a large, colourful metal bull. Mossy paths tempt you to follow them, and a stream reflects the trees overhead.  We didn’t venture into the woody depths, as they were extremely muddy, but even so, there was much to see.

Construction 11 by Tim Monks

Sir Frederick Gibberd was appointed master planner for Harlow New Town in 1946, and he must have been pleased with the result as he decided to live there. In 1955 he began to create the garden, in Marsh Lane. After the death of his first wife he later remarried. The new Lady Gibberd, being an active member of the Harlow Art Trust, had many contacts with sculptors and she and Sir Frederick bought or commissioned over eighty sculptures to enhance the garden. Sir Frederick died in 1984,while  his widow passed away two years ago. Now, the house is sometimes open as well as the gardens.

Bronze Dog (one of two) by Robert Clatworthy

The sculptures don’t dominate the garden, they enhance areas, or are weathered so that often, until you are almost on top of them, you don’t notice them. Amongst the pieces is a vivacious sculpture of a woman holding a baby. Another that caught my eye was of a woman holding a young goat. There were two bronze dogs, a shiny mobile, a bronze bull and a wooden deer, a stretching figure and even a head of Sir Frederick, perched atop a pot of ivy. I was very taken by a piece called ‘Construction 11’, by Tim Monks, made from steel and stained glass. The glass arrangement reminded me of an artist’s palette. The stainless steel mobile on one of the lawns was fun, and very elegant. Probably the brightest piece in the garden is situated right near the car park, and is entitled ‘Il Tractoro’. Constructed from painted copper sheet, it was created by Gabriel Underwood, and is a stylised bull painted in vivid shades of yellow, red and blue.

Mother and Child by Gerda Rubinstein

However, we had, of course, gone primarily to see the snowdrops and they certainly didn’t disappoint. From small clumps to long swathes, the snowy flowers were beautiful, and so delicate with their fresh green markings on the white petals. Some of the snowdrops were really large, others tiny. Later, we bought a couple of pots to take home with us. Incidentally, the café serves delicious cake and huge pots of tea!

Chinese Dynamic by John Mills

Harlow is renowned as ‘A Sculpture Town’ and  boasts a number of pieces of international importance. Perhaps the most famed is Henry Moore’s Family Group which is in the foyer of the Civic Centre, and which gazes impassively through the large glass windows at passing shoppers. My favourite piece is Solo Flight, an imposing, graceful stainless steel sculpture in First Avenue, fabulous when viewed on a summer’s day against a cobalt blue sky. I’m also fond of the small bronze boar in the water gardens.  I couldn’t resist a giggle when visiting Tesco last week as right outside the Church Langley branch is a larger than life statue of a bronze horse – rather unfortunate at the moment, given the ‘horse meat in beef ready-meals’ controversy!

Princess Daisy at the V&A Museum of Childhood

Recently I was asked if I would be one of the Guest Speakers at the Victoria and Albert Museum of Childhood, at a Teenage Doll Study Day next month. I’m really looking forward to it, and to meeting up with like-minded doll collectors. It’s quite a while since I last visited the museum, so it will be interesting to see it all again, especially ‘Princess Daisy’, a 19^th century wax doll with a magnificent layette – everything from a crib to a silver mug. The lucky baby has hundreds of items of clothing and accessories. All being well, I’ll be able to describe the museum in more detail next month after the event.

Apparently, this sunny spring-like weather will last till Wednesday, when yet another band of cold, wintry weather will sweep in bringing ice, snow and cold winds. Then let’s hope that is the last of it – I think we all deserve a proper spring and summer this year.

A mossy path at the Gibberd Garden

MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 29

‘By hook or by crook,

I’ll be first in this book’

When did you last sign your name?  Properly, with a pen, not electronically on an email or text. Think about it – years ago we signed our name regularly. We wrote letters, signed cheques or scrawled our signature on petitions to our local MPs. Today, even petitions tend to be online, and unless we’re entering into some official business, like taking out an insurance policy or making a major purchase, our signature isn’t required.  When did you last write your name in someone’s autograph book? I expect that is even longer ago – in Victorian times, and right up until the Second World War, most girls and young women had autograph books, not to collect the signatures of their favourite pop singers but to collect rhymes, quotations and drawings entered up by their relatives and friends.

After the War, people still had autograph books but the rhymes become more banal, and gradually the books fell from favour. Sometimes, school leavers copy the American idea of the school year book, collecting signatures and good luck messages from their classmates, but in general, today’s books are used by fans to gather the autographs of their favourite actors, film stars, pop stars or reality personalities. A couple of years ago I wrote a book about autograph collecting, and gathered a collection of early autograph albums, which were packed with exquisite watercolour paintings, sketches and delightful verses. Can you imagine someone today taking the time to borrow someone’s autograph album, returning it a few hours later embellished with an intricate painting? Or a cartoon? Or a long poem, lovingly written, full of advice for the years ahead? No, neither can I.

Some imaginative pages found in earlier autograph books involved photographs or small objects pasted in, such as silk pictures, cigarette cards, lengths of thread, locks of hair, buttons, postage stamps or matchsticks with a clever comment, witty remark or joke beneath. For instance ‘The Lost C(h)ord’, ‘I’ve stamped your page’ or ‘This is the most striking object in your book’, as well, of course, as that vital signature.

One of my favourite rhymes that I’ve come across, was written in the 1920s:

He criticised her pudding

He didn’t like her cake

He wished she’d make the biscuits

That his mother used to make

She didn’t wash the dishes

She didn’t make the stew

And she didn’t darn his linen

As his mother used to do

Oh well she wasn’t perfect

Though she always tried her best

Then one day at length she thought

It was time to have a rest

So when that day he scolded

The same complaints all through

She turned around and boxed his ears

Like his mother used to do.

Or how about this gem, also from the 1920s?

Some girls love their brothers

But I so good have grown

That I love somebody else’s

Better than my own.

 

Love, marriage and babies are recurrent themes, something to be expected considering the vast majority of autograph books were owned by young women or schoolgirls. Friendship is another popular topic, with people proclaiming undying devotion. Interestingly, unlike today where we tend to bottle our feelings or make jokey references about ‘eternal friendship’, a few decades ago people weren’t afraid to show their feelings. They were happy to write loving thoughts and messages to friends and relatives as well being willing to show their patriotism by writing stirring quotations about Britain, its soldiers or its Union Flag. Unsurprisingly perhaps, forget-me-nots are the flowers which crop up in albums the most, though roses and violets are also exceedingly popular.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When on a lonely path you’ve got

And may perchance to see

That little flower Forget-me-not

Pluck it and think of me

 

This one was found in a late Victorian autograph album, and crops up time and again over the decades:

Your album is a garden

That only friends may know

I will plant a forget-me-not

And see if it will grow

It’s interesting to analyse the themes – broadly speaking, they fall into four distinct categories. There are the flippant, humorous or novelty entries – these are verses and drawings which usually bear no relevance to the owner of the album; they are purely entries chosen to entertain. Secondly, there are the sentimental entries which often proclaim advice, friendship or love. The third type are those which consists of quotes, homilies, texts or poems. Sometimes these poems seem original to the writer, but more often are an extract from a well-known poet such as Browning, Kipling, Shakespeare or Keats. The fourth category belongs to the entries that I think of as ‘self-indulgent’. These are the self-satisfied, holier-than-thou entries that were particularly in vogue in Edwardian times and up to the 19220s. You can imagine these being penned by elderly aunts with pursed mouths like cats’ bottoms, or pompous uncles who believed that their flighty nieces needed a firm hand to keep them on the straight and narrow. They tended to consist of moralistic verses and prose setting out rules for behaviour, and you can imagine the young recipient screwing up her nose in disgust as she read the offering, such as this entry dated 1919:

 Don’t look for the flaws as you go through life

And even when you’ve found them

It is well and kind to be somewhat blind

And to look for the virtue behind them.

The world will never adjust itself

To suit your whines to the letter

Some things must go wrong your whole life long

And the sooner you know it the better

 

I rather like this 1950s’ offering, too:

Tell me quick

Before I faint

Is we friends

Or is we ain’t?

As children, we tended to scrawl our names and a sentiment such as the ubiquitous ‘By hook or by crook, I’ll be first in the book’ or maybe, ‘Don’t kiss at the garden gate, Love is blind but neighbours ain’t’. However, as we mature, we realise what a great responsibility we undertake on the rare occasions when an autograph book is proffered for us to sign. What should we put? Do we come up with a thoughtful entry in the hope it will guide the book’s owner through life’s rocky highway, or do we opt for something witty to demonstrate our sense of humour? Sadly, the opportunity rarely comes along nowadays.

A Philographist's Prayer

Can't think

Brain numb

Inspiration won't come,

Can't write,

Bad pen,

Much love,

Amen