MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 37

Polyanthus at Harlow Garden Centre

It is here! It’s arrived! I wondered if it ever would come – but yes! We have spring. Well, some of us do. Here in the south, there has been sunshine and blue skies, although sadly, it’s not quite the same for those further north.

Unfortunately, as with everything in life, there has been a downside. I haven’t been able to go out and enjoy it as I have developed sciatica. It’s a horrible thing, with shooting pains along my back and down the backs of my thighs. The pains take me unawares, one moment I am walking along – rather wobbly, it’s true – the next minute, what feels like an electric shock has zapped my back. First thing in the morning is worst; trying to sit up in bed from a prone, or semi-prone position is awful, and then the attempted straightening of the back. Sometimes I cry out in pain. Still, these things are sent to try us, as they say, and the doctor has given me painkillers and told me that it shouldn’t take too long to heal. So, the bower awaits – but I can’t go there yet, as the bench is too low……

I called in at Harlow Garden Centre on a cold, grey day – it’s a place to go for instant boost whatever the weather – and I found trays upon trays of vividly coloured polyanthus. They were so bright that I almost needed my sunglasses. What a tonic! I love this place, not only for plants but also for the pretty things in the gift shop. It’s a perfect place to go for lunch, as well.

Audley End on a grey April day

Before I developed the sciatica, I visited Audley End with my husband. We are English Heritage members, so we were able to get in ‘free’, which is always a bonus. Audley End was built on the site of a Benedictine Monastery, and is a 17^th century house. At one time, apparently, it was enormous, almost like a palace, but is now only one-third of its original size. However, it’s still very large, with plenty to see. Its gardens were designed by Capability Brown, and contain several mock-classical monuments. Sadly, on the day I went it was raining heavily, so I didn’t get to walk round them. I did get to see the famous dolls’ house, which dates from the 1820s, though – but unfortunately damp has damaged it, and fungal spores were found. Consequently, it is in the process of being restored. A replica of the house is on show in the visitors’ reception, for children to play with.

My Tri-ang tin-fronted dolls' house awaiting restoration

I am fond of dolls’ houses, but am trying to resist the temptation to get involved in the hobby, because I have too many hobbies already. However, I must confess to having several houses. One is waiting to be restored, it is a similar Tri-ang tinplate one to the dolls’ house I had when I was small. The others are just small houses I have found on my travels. The largest belongs to my daughter. It was built by for her by her grandfather when she was little, and she acquired so much furniture that a few years later, he built her an extension!

I converted a kit to make my ideal newsagents!

I have visited several dolls’ house fairs, and marvel at the tiny goods on sale, many of them created by hand. I wouldn’t have the patience to knit a scarf or a table mat out of cotton on two pins. Yet some people do, and create all manner of other tiny things, from elaborately carved chairs to plates of food. Some people make shops, rather than dolls houses, turning them into dress shops, florists, toyshops or bakers. A couple of years ago, I built a little shop, but mine wasn’t a complicated affair, I just adapted a kit. I turned it into a newsagents that specialised in girls’ comics – well, it was my shop and I was reminiscing! It was a tie-in with a book I was writing at the time, about girls’ comics, and I created miniature comics and books using the computer. Then I visited a stockist of dolls’ house accessories and bought a little girl doll, who looked just about the right age to buy her copy of Bunty.

Do you remember Bunty? A straw poll I carried out showed that Bunty was the best loved of all the girls’ comics. I still have my Ladybird ring and my Dainty Doggie ring, which were free gifts, and I avidly followed the adventures of ‘The Four Marys’! Other favourites included Girl, School Friend, Girls’ Crystal, Twinkle, Jack and Jill, Chick’s Own and Sunny Stories. Then there was Jackie – that was a comic which shocked a lot of mums when it first came out, due to its willingness to tackle problems such as unmarried mothers in the problem pages, whilst similar magazines stuck safely to acne and etiquette! Later, like so many teens of the time, I switched to Valentine, Boyfriend, Roxy, Cherie and Romeo (not all at once – they were bought when they featured my favourite pop stars).

My Dainty Doggie Ring given free with Bunty in 1960

The shops don’t seem to sell many proper comics now – they are all product based, with a large ‘free’ gift. It’s the gift that the comic (or magazine as they really are now) is bought for, not for the reading matter. And they seem so expensive. Oh well, that’s another childhood tradition that’s bitten the dust!

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I was thinking today about postcards. As you do. A few decades ago, everyone sent postcards when they were away, depicting golden beaches, blue skies and children splashing in the sea – even though they were probably writing the card on the beach, huddled by a windbreak in a Force 10 gale. Nowadays, the only cards I receive are the occasional ones from neighbours whose house we are keeping a watchful eye on. Oh yes, and my teddy bear gets them sometimes from his best teddy friend, but that’s another story….!

In the 1950s, through to the 1970s, you could hardly move along the prom or the pier without bumping into large revolving racks of postcards, mainly saucy ones from the likes of artists such as Donald McGill.  They were brightly coloured and politically incorrect, featuring enormous ladies clad in bathing suits, skinny red-nosed morose-looking men or maybe busty young women revealing their undies. At one time they were popular, but then became thought of as ‘common’ and so most people turned to (boring) view cards instead. When I was holidaying on the Isle of Wight last year, I discovered a Donald McGill Museum in Ryde, which was filled with his postcards and memorabilia. The cards were even glued to the ceiling. If you’re visiting the Island and are a McGill fan, it’s well worth a visit.

It also has a super little cafe, which is Alice in Wonderland themed. The museum and cafe are small, but, as they say, 'perfectly formed' and I just can't wait to go back.

In the earlier decades of the twentieth century, before the Second World War, postcard-sending was a national pastime. You could post a card in the morning to say that you’d call in at teatime, and amazingly the card would have arrived and the kettle would be on. Often, people sent postcards as greetings cards rather than the folded cards we know today. These greetings’ postcards would bear luridly coloured pictures of flowers or animals, or, on those intended for children, the child’s age together with a design of a doll, toy, animal, flower, cottage, pond – often the whole lot all on one card. In those days, design didn’t seem to matter quite so much.

Many of the cards were hand coloured, and the colourists seemed to go in for the brightest shades they could find. It's fun comparing two cards with the same design, and seeing how the colours vary. Sometimes the choice of colour can alter the whole appearance of the post card.

There were many kinds of novelty cards too – cards made from celluloid, or decorated with fur or feathers. Some bore pictures of dolls or animals with googly eyes that moved when the card was shaken, while others looked quite plain until you held them up to the light, when a beautiful picture could be seen.  There were cards made up of lots of pictures of toddlers superimposed in scenarios such as driving cars or playing instruments in a band, while other cards featured montages of women’s faces; often these faces spelt out a name or a town. The 1930s saw cards by artists such as Mabel Lucie Attwell. Mabel drew pictures of chubby toddlers and smiling children, with various cute captions.  She produced hundreds of different designs, and many other artists copied her style, some more successfully than others.

During the First World War, soldiers serving in France sent back beautiful postcards that were embroidered on silk. These cards were sewn by French women, in between their chores, and some were very skilfully done. Other ladies weren’t quite so proficient with their needle, and so their cards were less neat, but still colourful. Many of these cards are poignant, they bear tender messages for their wives and children, and you can’t help wondering whether that soldier managed to return home safely from the conflict. Other cards are sentimental, printed with the words of romantic songs or with pictures of soldiers in the trenches and an image of a woman representing the wife or sweetheart back home.

I’ve built up quite a large collection of cards over the years, and so has my daughter. I started her collecting when she was in her early teens, giving her a couple of beautiful albums specially made for postcards. It’s a good collecting field for youngsters as cards, even quite old ones, can be picked up cheaply at flea markets, antique centres and fairs. The messages on the cards are often interesting, too – sometimes they are very gossipy. Some people used to write the message upside down, the idea being that then the postman couldn’t read it. I would have thought that the any postman worth his salt would just have turned the card upside down to read it, should he be interested!

At last the promised milder weather is appearing, albeit it slowly. Yesterday it was warm enough to sit in the garden for a while watching the birds, as well as small, cheeky wood mouse. The mouse was gathering up some dropped birdseed from around the bird table and taking it to its nest under the fence.  The weather is meant to be even warmer next week, so at last the bower is beckoning. I shall be able to sit there and relax, dream and think. Maybe I could write postcards to my friends, reading. ‘Wish you were here’!

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Another week has passed and still it is too cold to sit in the bower, though I’m pleased to report that at last green buds are just beginning to show on the honeysuckle and clematis. Meanwhile, a robin seems to have made himself at home there; the bower is sheltered from the wind, rain or snow, there is a thorny pyracantha just behind where he can retreat from any danger, and, most importantly of all, he has a perfect view of the feeders, so can be first down when the mealworms are put out.

I hope you had an enjoyable Easter with plenty of hot cross buns and chocolate eggs. The sun shone beautifully here on Easter Sunday – as it should on this most important day in the Christian calendar – and if only the bitter wind had dropped, it would have been perfect.  On Good Friday we decorated the Easter tree, a family tradition – just a few twigs, some wooden novelties, a few fluffy chicks and some mini eggs. We also hard boiled some eggs, put them into special chick and bunny decorated cellophane wrappers, and then immersed them for a few seconds in boiling water which caused the cellophane to shrink-wrap the eggs. Instant egg decoration!  

We exchanged proper, chocolate, eggs on Easter Sunday, but I couldn’t help thinking how sad it is that nowadays all that the manufacturers are interested in is blazoning their name over the boxes. In the 1980s, when my children were small, their eggs came in pretty boxes decorated with nursery characters or animals, and although the makers’ name was on the box it didn’t dominate it. Today, you might just as well give a bar of chocolate, because there is no difference in the design. When I was small, I had chocolate eggs decorated with sugar paste flowers, and my mother told me that during the 1920s and 30s, when she was a child, eggs were sometimes draped with strings of beads.

We invested in a breadmaker a few weeks ago, a lazy thing to buy, I suppose, but I’m afraid I just don’t have time for all that kneading and proving and kneading again. Anyway, the results have been excellent, and we have tried various kinds of bread. At least we know what is going into it, and there is a wonderful baking smell in the mornings; that very special smell of hot bread. It’s so easy, just weigh out the ingredients, tip them into the tin and leave the breadmaker to do the hard work.  The trouble is, of course, that warm bread is very tempting. Still, it could be worse. At least it doesn’t make cream cakes or doughnuts!

On Saturday we went to a concert at a nearby theatre which starred The Manfreds – a 1960s’ group at one time known as Manfred Mann.  Amazingly, the singer, Paul Jones, is now 70 (I tend to forget that performers I watched in my youth have grown older, too!) – but his voice is still strong and with that same distinctive sound that I remember so well. The vitality of the group was astonishing. Mike Hugg’s keyboard playing was brilliant as was the guitar wizardry of Tom McGuinness, and it made for a wonderfully nostalgic evening. Paul’s harmonica skills are legendary, too. I’ve always had a soft spot for the harmonica – my father and uncle were keen players, and most days I heard the sound of the ‘mouth organ’. They tended to play popular songs of the era, or maybe a bit of jazz, and always included ‘Sweet Georgia Brown’ somewhere in the repertoire, accompanied by much foot tapping. Any family get-togethers included a singsong to the harmonica, and Dad always had one handy in his pocket. Sadly, I could never master the instrument; a quick burst of Jingle Bells is my limit!

Finally, last week I was very pleased to receive a copy of my latest book. It’s always a thrill for any writer to hold that first, fresh off the press copy, and as they turn the pages the months of hard work are forgotten. This one is called ‘Famous Character Dolls’ and explores dolls made to represent film stars, royalty, cartoon characters, advertising dolls, national dolls, pop singers and all kinds of other dolls which are not just run of the mill types. It’s published by Pen and Sword.

Newsflash! I’ve just heard that the weather might get a little warmer, and the cold winds should drop, around April 11^th. Fingers crossed. My bower awaits!

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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

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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

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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!