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A Responsible Duty
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Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
The country has been gripped by a General Strike* which has impacted the populace of London, causing disruption to transport, shipping and distribution, energy supply and even some of the most common staples found in pantries nationwide as one million, seven hundred thousand transport and heavy industry workers walk out on strike in support of coal miners facing wage reductions. Even the London newspapers of Fleet Street have ground to a halt as printers walk out on strike in solidarity with the miners. However, not even a General Strike can stop Londoners continuing to go about their business, and across the city upper and middle-class citizens are “doing their bit” to actively support the government to break the strike, ensuring essential services continue, by volunteering to operate transport, deliver food, and maintain public services through the Organization for the Maintenance of Supplies (OMS): driving buses, unloading cargo, or serving as special constables to keep services running. And thus, we find ourselves at Leicester Square Railway Station today, where both Lettice, and her maid Edith, are amongst the many women helping in one of the volunteer kitchens** established up by Lady Edwina Mountbatten*** to help feed and water the volunteers driving London buses and trains****.
The clean and bright canteen with black and white linoleum floors and glazed white tiles up the walls, is a hive of activity, with volunteers coming in and out to help themselves to tea and coffee, sticky buns and whatever else is on the offing, with volunteers like Lettice, her best friend Margot Channon and Margot’s mother, Lady de Virre, helping serve them, whilst Edith and Margot’s maid, Hilda, who is also Edith’s best friend, work in the kitchen with other volunteers from fellow domestics like themselves, to the wives of lawyers, bankers and even a few aristocrats. The cavernous canteen echoes with vociferous chatter, the patter of feet, the banging of saucepans, pots and kettles, and the clatter of plain white utility china and metal cutlery.
“You know Hilda,” Margot remarks to her maid-of-all-work as with a groan, she hands her a pot full of potatoes she has just finished peeling. “I have a greater appreciation of what you must do in our kitchen at home.”
“I’m glad you do, Madam.” Hilda says as she accepts the pot from her mistress and turns away from her, walking across to the stove nearby where she joins Edith.
“I never knew peeling potatoes could be such hard work!” Margot opines.
Hilda glances at Edith and rolls her eyes to the ceiling as she replies, “Yes Madam.”, making Edith smirk.
“Well, mustn’t stand about all day. I’m going to help Lettice set up crockery.” Margot adds. cheerfully . “Pip pip*****!”
“Pip pip, Madam.” Hilda answers her mistress, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, causing Edith to chuckle again, quickly covering her mouth to stifle her giggle at the wealthy lady’s expense.
Hilda looks over her shoulder, and when she is sure that her mistress is out of earshot, she turns back to her best friend and remarks with a chuckle and more pronounced head shaking, “Mrs. Channon is positively hopeless.”
“If she thinks peeling potatoes is hard,” Edith giggles. “Imagine her trying to do all the hard graft around Hill Street.”
Hilda breaks onto guffaws, quickly glancing back over her shoulder to make sure that Margot hasn’t heard her. “Chance would be a fine thing!” she scoffs dismissively. “Anyway, I don’t think I’d want her trying to do her own domestic chores around the flat.”
“Because it would do you out of your position, Hilda?”
“No silly!” Hilda replies blithely. “Because then I’d spend twice as long tidying up after her as I would doing the job myself.”
Edith chuckles quietly again at her best friend’s remark. “Poor Mrs. Channon.” She lets out a resigned sigh. “She’s really rather hopeless. Just look at how many times she’s dropped a heavy kettle of water over the last few days.”
“Yes, I’m rather glad to have her off tea making duty. Lady Pendergast,” Hilda nods with an approving smile in the general direction of an older lady with her white hair set modishly in smart marcelled waves****** dressed in a soft pink day dress beneath a cotton pinny apron******* who is making tea nearby. “Is much more adept than Madam is.”
“Whoever knew making tea could be so difficult.” Edith giggles again.
“Oh, it’s good to see you laughing now, Edith.” Hilda smiles as she inspects the potatoes for any peelings left on by Margot. “You were in such a funk when you arrived here with Miss Lettice this morning.”
“I know.” Edith replies apologetically. “I’m sorry, Hilda.”
“So what happened?” Hilda asks. “You never did tell me.” She hands a potato with some skin unpeeled on it to Edith. “Do you have just cause, or did you just get out of bed on the wrong side, this morning?”
Edith sighs heavily as she takes the potato from Hilda and taking up a paring knife, begins to complete what Margot failed to do. “Probably neither, really, if I’m honest, Hilda.”
“Do tell?” Hilda’s eyebrows shoot up with piqued interest.
“Oh, it’s silly really.” Edith scoffs dismissively. “I had the most fearful row with Frank this morning.”
“That’s not silly, Edith!” Hilda gasps, pausing her inspection of the potatoes. “Is everything alright? Between you two, I mean.”
“Oh yes.” Edith assures her friend. “It was all my fault, really.”
“He didn’t mess you about with any groceries, did he? Mr. Willison has been insufferable ever since he sent that handwritten letter advising her that deliveries from his shop will be suspended throughout the duration of the General Strike, lording it over me every time I walk in there, about how I should be a better housekeeper and not waste the staples in our pantry.” she complains. “I’d like to see him reign in Mr. and Mrs. Channon’s, dining habits, General Strike or no. It’s bad enough he put a fly in my ointment by making me visit there daily to buy what we need, rather than being able to telephone it though and get Frank to deliver it. As if I haven’t gotten enough to do, picking up after Madam as it is.”
“No, it’s nothing like that, Hilda.” She passes the now cleanly peeled potato back to her best friend.
“Then what?”
“Well, when I saw Frank, when I popped into Mr. Willison’s this morning, I noticed that he had a rather nasty cut on his forehead.”
“Oh poor Frank.” Hilda remarks, frowning as she fishes out another potato with skin still on it. “How did he do that.” She pauses and looks with alarm at Edith. “He didn’t get it in a fight, did he? Like in a picket line scuffle********, for instance?”
“That’s what I accused him of.” Edith admits guiltily, lowering her head with shame as she stares down at the well-worn wooden chopping board covered in potato peelings in front of her. “And that’s what caused the row.”
“And did he?”
“No. That’s the worst of it.” Edith admits. “I accused him of that, but he did it falling off his bicycle.”
“I thought he wasn’t doing deliveries.” Hilda hands Edith another potato to finish peeling for Margot. “Mr. Willison’s letter specifically said no deliveries for the duration.”
“Well,” Edith accepts the potato and then lowers her voice to make sure that none of the women bustling around the kitchen nearby can hear her. “Frank has been helping out the strikers at night, under the ruse to Mr. Willison that he has to visit his granny.”
Hilda’s eyes grow wide in surprise. “Go on.”
“Mrs. McTavish is actually being looked in on by her neighbours. Instead, Frank is delivering materials to the British Worker*********.”
“He never?” Hilda gasps.
“He says so.” Edith shrugs. “And it seems plausible. Someone at the Trades Union put in a good word for Frank and his writing skills, and he’s writing a column for them.”
Hildas gasps again. “No?”
“Yes.” Hilda contradicts her friend. “So I was wrong, and I apologised.”
“So it’s all patched up now between the two of you, then, Edith?”
“It is, Hilda.”
“Well, thank goodness for that.” She places another partially peeled potato on Edith’s cutting board. “God Madam is hopeless! She can’t even peel a potato properly!” She sighs and stares off into space in front of her. Her voice becomes wistful as she says, “God, I wish I could help out the cause like Frank is.”
“I didn’t know you wrote, Hilda.”
“Oh I don’t, Edith. I just meant, I’d like to help out in the strike in some way, and,” she lowers her voice. “Not for the government side like we are in here.” She snaked her head sadly.
“What would you want to do, Hilda?”
“Something… anything that would make a difference. I’d love to be down there with the other wives of striking dock workers********** at the London Docks. Did you read about the picket lines being broken by the army down the docks*********** the other day, in the British Gazette************?”
“Surely you wouldn’t join a picket line, Hilda?” Edith hisses in incredulity.
“I would,” She glances at her friend seriously. “If I could*************.” She then looks over her shoulder where she catches sight of Lettice, Margot and Margot’s mother serving tea from large polished hot water urns to a bunch of cheerful London University students who are vociferously sharing stories with them about their successful exploits driving trains and unloading produce from them**************. “But Old Lady de Virre would never allow it.”
“I thought you liked Lady de Virre.” Edith says as she notes Hilda’s deprecating tone when she uses Margot’s mother’s name.
“Well, she pays my wages, doesn’t she?” Hilda says matter-of-factly. “I can’t very well dislike her, can I? Any more than I could abandon Madam for the picket line. Lady de Virre would have me dismissed on the spot if I was seen to be disloyal.”
“Oh I’m sure she isn’t that bad, Hilda.”
Hilda tuts and shakes her head. “You always did see the best in everyone, Edith.”
“Oh, weren’t those university students rather jolly, Lettice?” Margot asks her friend with a wistful sigh, as they stand behind a scrupulously clean deal pine serving table. “Such tales of derring-do***************, what?”
Before them, Lettice and Margot have carefully arranged utilitarian white china crockery, not delicate and gilt edged like the fine porcelain they take tea and cakes from, but thick and hardwearing pottery. Unsullied rows of teacups and saucers stand waiting for the next onslaught of thirsty volunteers. A cream enamel cannister full of shiny teaspoons squats low next to an equally burnished silver metal urn of hot water. Next to the tea things trays of neatly lined up ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches, and plates of pain aux raisins**************** and a mixture of plain and fruit scones await selection.
“Oh, weren’t they indeed, dear Margot. Anyone might have thought the engine they commandeered was a dragon, the way they were talking!” Lettice giggles.
“Moments like that make this whole ordeal of the General Strike all the more bearable.” Margot goes on. “I declare that this movement of patriotism and unity against the common foe is rather thrilling.” she waxes lyrical.
“Don’t talk such rubbish, Marguerite!” Lady de Virre scoffs at her daughter’s remark.
“It’s not rubbish, Mummy!” Margot mewls like a kitten, glaring at her mother as she hands a plate containing two sandwiches to a rather harried looking man wearing a London business suit more designed for an office, with a rather grubby calico apron over the top, who graciously accepts it with a grateful smile. “It is awfully thrilling.”
“We are hardly a nation united, Marguerite,” Lady de Virre retorts. “If we were, we would be going about our lives as usual, pleasantly and peacefully, rather than having rioting in the streets, and us working here, serving food to volunteers.” She snatches at her daughter’s hand with her own black kid leather glove clad fingers. She turns it over in hers, and looks appalled. “Kitchen maid’s hands!” she snaps with irritation. “I sincerely hope this doesn’t go on much longer, or it will be the ruination of your skin, Marguerite!”
“Oh Mummy!” Margot sighs.
“You are still using glycerine and rosewater salve***************** on your chapped hands, aren’t you, Marguerite?”
“Yes Mummy.” Margot replies with another heavy sigh. She then turns to Lettice who is filling a teacup with hot water before passing it with a beatific smile to a young man an Argyle knit****************** cardigan and plus fours*******************. “I think it’s all rather amusing. Don’t you think so, Lettice?”
“Amusing?” her mother gasps in horror. “Your dear Pappa and I, did not spend good money on sending you to one of the best finishing schools******************** in Switzerland, just to see it wasted as you peel potatoes and make tea.” She bristles as she adds disparagingly, “It’s so lowering.”
“I think it is our patriotic duty to volunteer, Lady de Virre,” Lettice replies proudly in a defiant tone. “No matter what it is that we are charged to do. Whether serving tea or peeling potatoes.” she adds in defence of her best friend.
Margot smiles gratefully at Lettice.
“I could think of far more ladylike ways of being patriotic during this crisis.” Lady de Virre grumbles.
“Are you suggesting that Lady Mountbatten, who organised this, isn’t a lady, Lady de Virre?” Lettice asks sweetly as she quickly arranges some more clean cups and saucers in front of her as more volunteers enter the canteen.
“Don’t be obtuse, Lettice.” she hisses irritably in return. “You know perfectly well I do. Otherwise I shouldn’t be here.
“There you are,” Lettice says kindly to female volunteer in a serviceable brown wool jersey frock and matching cloche hat to whom she has turned her attention to. “Please help yourself to a sandwich or two, or a pain aux raisins, if you prefer.”
“Thank you, miss.” the young girl says politely.
“Here, let me give you a plate.” Margot says with defiance, handing a clean white china plate to her.
Once the crowd of men and women have drifted away, and they are alone again, returning her attentions to the scowling older woman once more Lettice asks, “So if this isn’t suitably ladylike, what else do you suggest we do, Lady de Virre?”
“Well, you could drive ambulances.” Lady de Virre suggests. “Women did that during the war.”
“That’s true,” Lettice concedes. “However, as neither Margot nor I have a driving licence*********************, it would be impossible for us to drive an ambulance, don’t you see, Lady de Virre?”
“And I did see Lady Mary Ashley Cooper********************** and Lady Florence Carmichael-Anstruther*********************** peeling potatoes at their canteen when I walked home through Hyde Park yesterday, Mamma.” Margot adds.
“And if peeling potatoes is good enough for Lady Mary Ashley Cooper and Lady Florence Carmichael-Anstruther, then it is certainly good enough for Margot and me, Lady de Virre.” Lettice says with a steeliness to her voice.
“Oh you young Flappers!” the older woman says irritably, waving at the two best friends dismissively. “There is no talking to you. I’m going to help Lady Pendergast with the tea.”
Lettice and Margot giggle girlishly and look at one another with glee as Margot’s mother stalks off in a fit of pique.
“I say!” came a familiar voice cheerfully across the room.
Both women look up and smile as they see Gerald walking across the black and white chequered linoleum floor, dressed in his motoring dustcoat and a tweed motoring cap, pulling off his tan leather motoring gloves as he does. Gerald, also a member of the aristocracy, is Lettice’s best childhood chum, with the two being around the same age and growing up on neighbouring estates. However aristocratic both their families may be, the Brutons, unlike the Chetwynds, are in straitened circumstances owing to Gerald’s father, Lord Bruton, refusing to modernise and move with the times, bringing them close to financial ruin, also taking into account Lord Bruton’s gambling habits, which are mirrored by his heir, Gerald’s older rake of a brother, Roland. Gerald has gained some independence from his impecunious family, the Brutons, by designing gowns from a shop in Grosvenor Street, a business which, after promotion from Lettice and several commissions from high profile and influential society ladies, is beginning to turn a profit. Gerld has volunteered as a special constable*********************** through the OMS*************************, and is escorting motor buses driven by volunteers, used to keep London’s public transport system at least operational, if far from at full capacity.
“I’m parched! All this escorting of motor buses can make a chap jolly thirsty, you know!”
“Gerald!” Lettice beams as he approaches their tea point. “How are you?”
“Perishing, thanks! Any chance of a nice strong cup of tea, Lettice darling?” Gerald asks.
“Of course, Gerald darling!” Lettice quickly takes up a cup and begins to fill it with hot tea from the metal urn.
“Let me give you a pain aux raisins, Gerald darling.” Margot purrs.
“Made with your own fair hand, Margot darling?” Gerald asks, accepting the utilitarian white plate with the golden pastry studded with jewel like raisons on it.
“Oh please!” laughs Lettice. “Margot is still trying to master tea making,” She hands Gerald his tea. “Never mind baking.”
Margot giggles girlishly. “I’m not really cut out to be a cook, I think, Gerald darling.”
“Greek tragedy!” he answers in mock shock.
“But I can host very well, obviously.” she adds with a smile.
“Thank goodness for that!” Gerald sighs with relief. “I like my Margot as she is: a decorous and utterly charming society hostess. This whole General Strike is turning our world on its ear! I’m glad at least you remain unchanged, Margot darling.”
“Oh, you are an awful toady, Gerald!” Lettice teases as she rolls her eyes at her best friend’s remark. “Tell us, what’s it like escorting motor buses then?”
“It’s actually jolly thrilling, if I’m being honest, Lettice darling.” Gerald beams. “Far more so than I was anticipating when I volunteered to be a special constable.”
“We’ve heard from other volunteers that there have been some incidents on the buses.” Margot says nervously.
“Well, it must be a jolly uncomfortable ride for the passengers.” Gerald opines. “It’s so crowded aboard every motor bus that runs with everyone packed in like sardines, and then still a throng of people trying to get aboard.”
“Yes, but we heard about stones being thrown through windows by strikers**************************.” Margot clarifies.
“You haven’t been subject to that kind of wanton vandalism, have you Gerald darling?” Lettice asks with concern.
“We did have a bit of trouble with strikers and their sympathisers near Cannon Street***************************, but thanks to the barbed wire on the windscreen and lower deck windows of the motor bus****************************, we survived without any injuries to passengers or the volunteer crew operating it.”
“Oh, thank goodness, Gerald!” Lettice sighs with relief, fanning herself with her hand.
“It was actually rather funny,” Gerald begins.
“Funny?” Lettice gasps in disbelief, her eyes opening wide in surprise. “What on earth is funny about falling under attack by marauding strikers with stones?”
“Oh no, that wasn’t funny, Lettice darling!” Gerald clarifies. “No, but it was a rather remarkable coincidence.”
“What was, Gerald?” Margot asks. “You’re really not making any sense. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“You didn’t get a blow to your noggin***************************** from a projectile, Gerald darling?” Lettice queries. “Do you need to lie down?”
“I’m fit as a fiddle, Lettice darling. Don’t worry, I had a tin hat out there, not my motoring cap, even if it is far more fetching.” He shrugs. “Safety of one’s person, comes before style in this case, I suppose.”
“Then what are you talking about, Gerald?” Lettice asks peevishly, folding her arms akimbo, looking at him through suspicious eyes. “What was ‘such fun’ and a ‘remarkable coincidence’?”
“Well, it was who was volunteering as the driver of the motor bus I was assigned to as a special constable.” Gerald goes on.
“Was he an old friend of yours?” Margot asks, clasping her hands together. “Someone rather thrilling whom you haven’t seen for an age?”
“He is indeed a friend of mine, and Lettice’s too.”
“Mine, Gerald?” Lettice queries.
“And he would like to come and see you, Lettice darling, if you’re agreeable to it.” Gerald adds hopefully.
“I shouldn’t mind if he’s a friend, Gerald darling.” Lettice acquiesces. “But as far as I know, we don’t have any mutual friends who are driving motor buses. Every male friend is a special constable like you. Take Dickie for example.”
“Who was it, Gerald?” Margot asks, hanging on his every word.
“I’m so glad to hear that, Lettice darling,” Gerald says, ignoring Margot’s entreaties. “Because he is right outside the door, and would like your permission to come in.”
“My permission, Gerald?” Lettice asks again.
“Oh, you are being devilishly intriguing!” Margot exclaims. “And I do so love an intrigue.”
“Irritating is more like it.” Lettice counters. “Of course I’m agreeable to any of our friends to come and see me, although I don’t know how agreeable I shall remain, until I know who it is that you have waiting just beyond the threshold. Mind you, Gerald darling, it doesn’t really matter whether I am agreeable to whomever it is or not, this is a public volunteer canteen, and thus is open to the general public. I cannot very well stop him from coming or going as he likes, any more than I could stop Lady Zinnia from doing so.” Lettice pauses for a moment and smirks cheekily before adding, “Mind you, nothing could stop me from pouring a pot of tea over the old horror’s head!”
“Well, I’m quite sure our mutual friend would help you in that endeavour after the conversations I’ve had with him during our traverses of London on our motor bus.”
Lettice shakes her head as much from surprise at Gerald’s remarks about this mysterious mutual friend, as in frustration with Gerald for being so incredibly obtuse.
“Well show him in then, Gerald darling, before he perishes of hunger and thirst outside the door.” Lettice agrees. “I shan’t be accused to being a poor hostess.”
Gerald deposits his tea and pain aux raisins on a nearby deserted table edge and scurries outside, returning a few moments later with a man taller than himself, dressed too in a buff coloured motoring dust coat and a smart tweed motoring cap. His face is obscured by a red muffler wrapped up to his nose, covering his mouth and chin, whilst motoring goggles hide his eyes.
Lettice looks with uncertainty at this strange man, cocking her head as she examines him. Trying to work out who exactly he is. “Hullo sir,” she begins politely. “I believe that we are acquainted. May I offer you a cup of tea.
“That would be very kind, my Angel.” comes the smooth silvery tones of a voice she never thought she’s ever hear again.
Lettice’s mind is suddenly catapulted into the past: to the luxurious mahogany, rich red velvet, gilded paintings and extravagant floral displays of the Savoy’s****************************** grand dining salon. In her mind she sits at a table ornately set with fine napery crystal, silver and china, with an arrangement of sweet smelling roses in its centre, and opposite her sits her then beau, handsome and dashing Selwyn Spencely, with his soft brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, arrayed in white tie and tails. Selwyn was speaking to her about organising a romantic dinner for two for he and Lettice in honour of his birthday. However, even as she goes to answer affirmatively to his question about whether she would like that, his visage vanishes, melting before her very eyes and she finds herself confronted no longer with the smiling face of her then beau, but the haughty and cruel spectre of his mother, Lady Zinnia, the Duchess of Walmsford with her black hair with its single streak of startling white and her cold, icy blue eyes staring at her like she was an insect that required extermination. And exterminating Lettice she almost succeeded in as in the middle of the Savoy dining room that with a cold and calculating smile Lady Zinna announced that she had packed Selwyn off to Durban in South Africa for a year. She made a pact with her son: if he went away for a year, a year during which he agreed neither to see, nor correspond with Lettice, if he came back and still had feelings for Lettice, Lady Zinnia agreed that she would concede and would allow him to marry her. Yet before the year was up, Lettice received notification from Lady Zinnia after being summoned to her Park Lane mansion that Selwyn was engaged.
She gulps for air. Her mind reels as she raises her hand to soothe her throat, which is suddenly dry, yet at the same time choked. “It can’t be!” she manages to utter in a strangulated gasp as her heart begins to race, thundering in her ears, drumming out all the noise of vociferous conversation, the clatter of crockery, glassware and cutlery around her.
“Selwyn Spencely!” Margot gasps as the man before Lettice removes his goggles and muffler, revealing his face, just as handsome as when either she or Lettice had last seen him, his skin carrying an unusually healthy pallor of a man who has been in the warm and sunny South African climes.
*The General Strike in Britain occurred between May the 3rd and May the 12th, 1926. It was a nine-day nationwide stoppage called by the Trades Union Congress (TUC) to support coal miners facing wage reductions and worsening conditions. Roughly one million, seven hundred thousand workers went on strike, primarily in transport and heavy industry.
**During the 1926 General Strike, the volunteer canteens — often staffed by "titled ladies" to feed volunteers maintaining essential services — were largely organized and supported by the upper classes, society women, and the government\'s emergency volunteer network. Women from high society and the aristocracy, including Lady Louis Mountbatten, Lady Quilter, Lady Mary Ashley Cooper, and Lady Carmichael-Anstruther, participated in and helped manage these canteens. Canteens, such as those overseen by a "Mrs. Loeffler" at Scotland House and similar efforts in Hyde Park, provided food and refreshments to the thousands of middle-class volunteers, such as special constables, who broke the strike. These canteens were part of a coordinated effort by the Conservative government to maintain essential services and counter the strike\'s effectiveness. The focus of these efforts was to support the volunteer workforce—such as the "special constables"—to keep services running, as opposed to the soup kitchens operated in mining communities by workers\' wives to support the miners.
***Born Edwina Cynthia Annette Ashley, she was the granddaughter of the wealthy financier Sir Ernest Cassel, making her one of Britain\'s richest women when she married Louis Mountbatten in 1922, a ceremony dubbed "the wedding of the year". Before marrying him, she was a glamourous socialite and society beauty, but once married, used her new position of influence to draw attention to her humanitarian work. When the Second World War broke out, Lady Edwina devoted herself to the St John Ambulance Brigade and the British Red Cross, eventually acting as Superintendent-in-Chief of the St John Ambulance Brigade, earning her high honours. As the last Vicereine of India, she was crucial in navigating the transition to independence, maintaining a close working relationship and friendship with Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru. Initially known as a rebellious and glamorous socialite, she transitioned into a dedicated humanitarian worker. She was known for her immense energy and, at times, controversial personal life.
****Volunteers in London during the 1926 General Strike were highly successful at maintaining a "skeleton" service of buses and trains, acting as a critical political tool to break the morale of the strikers, even though they could not run the transport network at full capacity. Whilst the strike halted the majority of public transport, volunteers—primarily middle- and upper-class students and workers—enabled a gradually increasing number of buses and trains to operate under police protection as the nine-day strike progressed. On the first day of the strike, only about three hundred of London’s four thousand four hundred buses ran (using non-union crews), causing transport mayhem, but by Tuesday, May the 11th, nearly one thousand buses were operating, driven by volunteers. Volunteer efforts on railways were less effective than buses, with only a "skeleton" service running. On the first day, only three to five percent of passenger trains were running nationally. By the end of the strike, passenger services had increased, but goods trains remained at only two to three percent of normal levels, exacerbating shortages of even the most staple of foodstuffs around the country. None of London\'s two thousand tramcars were operating initially.
*****"Pip pip" is an old-fashioned, largely British, colloquialism used primarily as a cheery parting phrase meaning "goodbye" or "cheerio". It originated in the early 20th century, imitating the sound of a two-toned car horn. The phrase can also function as a general greeting or to express enthusiastic, hasty departure.
******Marcelling is a hair styling technique in which hot curling tongs are used to induce a curl into the hair. Its appearance was similar to that of a finger wave but it is created using a different method. Marcelled hair was a popular style for women\'s hair in the 1920s, often in conjunction with a bob cut. For those women who had longer hair, it was common to tie the hair at the nape of the neck and pin it above the ear with a stylish hair pin or flower. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.
*******A pinny apron (short for "pinafore") is a sleeveless, apron-like garment designed to protect clothing while working. Popular in Britain and Australia, it typically features a bib front, a loose fit, and large pockets, often crossing over at the back rather than tying, making it easy to slip on for cooking, cleaning, or crafting.
********Although the General Strike of 1926 is generally described as having low levels of overall violence compared to earlier industrial disputes, there were still several scuffles, clashes, and incidents of violence at picket lines in London. Confrontations in London primarily arose from strikers attempting to prevent food transport, buses, and trains from running, often targeting volunteers and police who were maintaining essential services.
*********The British Worker was a daily newspaper produced by the General Council of the Trades Union Congress (TUC) as their official mouthpiece during the 1926 General Strike. Its primary objectives were to circulate essential strike information, maintain the morale of workers, and counter government propaganda issued in the British Gazette. It ran for 11 issues between 5 May and 17 May 1926. Publication began two days after the strike started and continued slightly past its official end on 12 May. Managed by a Publicity Committee, the paper focused strictly on the strike. It excluded general news to ensure readers weren\'t distracted from the industrial action. While the Gazette branded the strike as a "revolutionary" threat, the British Worker maintained that it was a legal "defensive strike" to protect miners\' wages and living standards. The newspaper encouraged strikers to remain calm and orderly, famously using slogans like "All\'s Well" and features such as "Do\'s for Difficult Days". It also reported on the effectiveness of the strike, including instances where "scab labour" (volunteer workers) caused accidents due to incompetence.
**********Although perhaps a lesser-known fact, women actively participated in picketing and supported the 1926 General Strike across Britain, including in London. Women participated in mass picketing, with instances in Scotland and elsewhere of them throwing missiles at trams, stopping buses, and removing drivers, often acting alongside or in place of men. In many areas, women and men acted collectively to blockade streets, such as using prams to stop traffic in support of community goals. Women often "whiteshirted" miners who returned to work, a form of public shaming intended to undermine the masculinity of those breaking the strike. Women played a crucial role in maintaining morale by organising soup kitchens and fundraising delegations.
***********Dramatic confrontations took place on the London Docks on the 8th of May 1926, where picket lines were broken by food lorries protected by the British Army, which were transporting food to Hyde Park for distribution.
************The British Gazette was a temporary newspaper published by the British government during the 1926 General Strike to counter news from striking workers and combat the strikers\' media, such as the British Worker, and promote the government\'s perspective. Edited by Chancellor of the Exchequer Winston Churchill, it ran for only eight days in May 1926, from May the 5th to May the 13th as the official voice of the state during the industrial dispute. The paper was published using the facilities of the Morning Post and was heavily criticised by political opposition members for being a "propagandist" tool rather than an objective news source. Due to its official backing, it achieved a high circulation, reaching over 2 million copies, despite printing challenges.
*************Women — including working-class women and domestic staff — played a significant role in organising, cooking, and distributing food, often running soup kitchens to support strikers. While wealthy women often volunteered to maintain essential services, many working-class maids and cooks sympathised with the strike, assisting in feeding strikers rather than their employers. The strike saw broad participation in community support, with domestic staff often torn between their employment obligations and solidarity with their community.
**************University students played a significant role during the 1926 General Strike in Britain, primarily by acting as volunteers to break the strike. They worked alongside other middle-class volunteers to maintain essential services like transportation. Students, alongside ex-army officers, volunteered to work as bus drivers, railway staff, and to unload food supplies to keep the country running. In addition to transportation, students were involved in roles like loading supplies at locations such as Newton Abbot. Their efforts helped reduce the impact of the strike, contributing to the government\'s ability to maintain public services during the ten-day stoppage.
****************Derring-do refers to daring actions, heroic feats, or reckless courage, often used to describe adventurous, showy, or old-fashioned heroics. It implies bravery that disregards danger, frequently appearing in tales of knights, spies, or swashbuckling heroes. It originated from Middle English durring don ("daring to do"). The phrase was misunderstood by Sixteenth Century poet Edmund Spenser and later popularised by Sir Walter Scott, the Romantic-era author to mean a noun describing heroic action.
****************Pain aux raisins are spiral-shaped French pastries made with custard and raisins. They are also known less formally as raisin whirls, or simply raisin swirls. They are famously known in France as escargot due to their snail-like shape.
*****************In the 1920s, following Edwardian trends, women treated chapped hands with thick, occlusive agents to seal in moisture. Wealthy women of upper and middle-classes often applied cold cream and salves before bed to heal dry skin. A popular, common lotion mix used for protecting and soothing dry skin was glycerine and rosewater. These remedies were often applied heavily at night, sometimes worn under gloves to lock in moisture while sleeping. Poorer women who couldn’t afford such remedies applied olive oil, lanolin or Vaseline to cracked skin and rubbed in, especially after washing. , including cold cream, Vaseline (petroleum jelly), lanolin, and olive oil. Common remedies for soft, smooth hands included overnight treatments of glycerine and rosewater, alongside wearing protective cotton gloves.
******************An Argyle knit is a garment featuring a distinctive pattern of interlocking diamonds and parallelograms, often referred to as a "tartan on the bias", layered with diagonal, overlapping lines. The pattern derives from the Campbell of Argyll clan tartan in western Scotland. Pringle of Scotland popularized the design in the 1920s, making it a staple of luxury golf wear and casual fashion. Edward, the Prince of Wales (later King Edward VIII and then the Duke of Windsor), not only liked argyle but was instrumental in making the pattern a fashion staple. He is specifically noted for wearing an argyle golf sweater that is featured in a famous oil painting of him at St Andrews Golf course.
*******************Plus fours are loose-fitting breeches or trousers that extend four inches below the knee, popular for sports like golf and shooting, especially in the 1920s. They were designed for comfort, allowing for unrestricted movement during activities like walking, hiking, or swinging a golf club. They are named for the extra four inches of material that hang over the knee band, which is more than the two inches found on "plus twos". They offered more freedom of movement than traditional shorter knickerbockers. Introduced around the 1920s, they were heavily popularised by the Prince of Wales (later Edward VIII), and became a staple of sporting fashion for men and sometimes women. These are typically worn with knee-high stockings and often paired with brogue shoes, knee-high socks, and braces.
********************A finishing school is a private institution that teaches social graces, etiquette, and soft skills, traditionally for young women from elite families to prepare them for high society. These schools were highly desirable to finish a girl’s “education” (thus the term “finishing off”) before presenting her in society as a suitable candidate for marriage. These schools supplemented academic learning, focusing on deportment, fine dining, conversation, personal image, and cultural awareness, aiming to develop well-rounded individuals with poise and self-assurance for various social environments. Today finishing schools still exist, but the modern versions also cater to men and focus on professionalism, confidence, and cross-cultural communication.
*********************Driving licences were introduced in the UK by the Motor Car Act 1903. Initially, these were simple, sulphur-yellow paper documents used to identify drivers and register vehicles, rather than to test skill. Compulsory driving tests for new drivers were introduced later, on June 1st, 1935, under the Road Traffic Act 1934.
**********************Lady Mary Sibell Ashley-Cooper was an English socialite and member of the Bright Young Things of the 1920s. The eldest daughter of Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 9th Earl of Shaftesbury and Lady Constance Sibell Grosvenor, Queen Mary was her godmother. Beautiful, tall and athletic, Lady Ashley-Cooper was a champion swimmer. She was a member of the Bath Club and in 1934 won the club\'s swimming title. In 1936, she died after an operation for acute appendicitis, aged 33 years old.
***********************Florence Isobel Murray, Lady Carmichael-Anstruther was the wife of Sir Windham Frederick Carmichael-Anstruther, the 10th Baronet. The 10th Baronet, Sir Windham Frederick Carmichael-Anstruther, held the title until 1928.
************************During the 1926 General Strike, a special constable was a volunteer civilian sworn in to maintain order and protect infrastructure, serving as a "militia" against strikers. Recruited largely from the middle and upper classes to assist the police, they patrolled streets, escorted transport, and were often issued truncheons to prevent unrest. These volunteers were sometimes nicknamed "Winston\'s Specials" (referring to Winston Churchill) and were often viewed as opponents by the striking working class. Coming from those wealthier backgrounds some only realised the severe poverty of the workers only after joining the group. They were crucial to the government\'s strategy of maintaining infrastructure, such as power plants and transport networks, against potential sabotage.
*************************The OMS was the Organisation for the Maintenance of Supplies. This type of department was a logistical support function: a crucial unit designed to manage physical assets, equipment, and consumables to ensure operational efficiency.
**************************There were numerous attacks on buses, trams, and trains during the 1926 General Strike, particularly against vehicles operated by volunteer "blackleg" labour. Strikers and sympathisers in various areas threw stones, smashed windows, and in some cases, set buses on fire to halt transport services.
***************************Cannon Street is a major thoroughfare in the City of London of about half a mile, running parallel to the River Thames, connecting St. Paul\'s Cathedral with King William Street. It is known for Cannon Street station—a major train terminus and Underground hub—historic sites like the London Stone (an ancient, mysterious limestone block, possibly a Roman milestone), St. Swithin’s Garden (a small, hidden public garden on the site of St Swithin, London Stone church, located near Cannon Street station, which was destroyed during the Blitz), and its role as a key financial district street. The street lies in the heart of the City of London, within the historic Ward of Candlewick. Formerly known as "Candelewrithstret" (1183), it was a hub for candle-makers or chandlers before the name shortened to Cannon Street in the Seventeenth Century. It is one of the City\'s oldest areas, appearing on maps as early as 1561.
****************************Barbed wire or "chicken wire" was installed across windscreens and windows of vehicles operated by volunteer "blackleg" labour, to protect drivers and passengers from missiles thrown by protesters during the 1926 General Strike.
*****************************”Noggin” is an informal term used to describe a person\'s head, mind, or brain, often used in phrases like "use your noggin" to mean think. It also refers to a small mug, cup, or a small quantity of an alcoholic drink. Originating around the Eighteenth Century, it is sometimes used to mean a "head".
******************************The Savoy Hotel is a luxury hotel located in the Strand in the City of Westminster in central London. Built by the impresario Richard D\'Oyly Carte with profits from his Gilbert and Sullivan opera productions, it opened on 6 August 1889. It was the first in the Savoy group of hotels and restaurants owned by Carte\'s family for over a century. The Savoy was the first hotel in Britain to introduce electric lights throughout the building, electric lifts, bathrooms in most of the lavishly furnished rooms, constant hot and cold running water and many other innovations. Carte hired César Ritz as manager and Auguste Escoffier as chef de cuisine; they established an unprecedented standard of quality in hotel service, entertainment and elegant dining, attracting royalty and other rich and powerful guests and diners. The hotel became Carte\'s most successful venture. Its bands, Savoy Orpheans and the Savoy Havana Band, became famous. Winston Churchill often took his cabinet to lunch at the hotel. The hotel is now managed by Fairmont Hotels and Resorts. It has been called "London\'s most famous hotel". It has two hundred and sixty seven guest rooms and panoramic views of the River Thames across Savoy Place and the Thames Embankment. The hotel is a Grade II listed building.
This may look like a rather utilitarian canteen to you, but in truth it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The pain aux raisins on the counter in the foreground are very special pieces made just for me. Made painstakingly by hand using baking clay and then painted by hand, these examples of different kinds of breads were made by my very dear Flickr friend and artist Kim Hagar BKHagar *Kim*. She surprised me with these amazing pieces as a Christmas gift, with the intention that I use them in my miniatures photos. You can see her own miniature projects featuring pieces of her own work in her “In Miniature” album here: www.flickr.com/photos/bkhagar_gallery/albums/721777203007....
The tray of tomato, ham, cheese and cucumber sandwiches and the fruit scones have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Frances Knight’s work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.
The plain white utilitarian crockery on the table and the sideboard comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom. There are also a rather worn and beaten looking enamelled cannister next to the teacups in the foreground, as well as several pieces in the background. Made in the typical domestic Art Deco design and kitchen colours of the 1920s, cream and green, these artisan pieces, aged on purpose, I also acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop. The cutlery comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The hot water urn to the right of the photograph is, in truth, a novelty salt cellar to which I affixed a 1:12 miniature spigot.
The large tins of biscuits in the background come from Shephard’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
To the right of the sideboard is the food safe. In the days before refrigeration, or when refrigeration was expensive, perishable foods such as meat, butter, milk and eggs were kept in a food safe. Winter was easier than summer to keep food fresh and butter coolers and shallow bowls of cold water were early ways to keep things like milk and butter cool. A food safe was a wooden cupboard with doors and sides open to the air apart from a covering of fine galvinised wire mesh. This allowed the air to circulate while keeping insects out. There was usually an upper and a lower compartment, normally lined with what was known as American cloth, a fabric with a glazed or varnished wipe-clean surface. Refrigerators, like washing machines were American inventions and were not commonplace in even wealthy upper-class households until well after the Second World War.
The travel advertisements along the tiled wall are all 1:12 size posters made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Ken is known mostly for the 1;12 miniature books he created. I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but he also produced other items, including posters. All of these are genuine copies of real inter-war Art Deco travel posters put out by the different British railways to promote travelling on them. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make these items miniature artisan pieces. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The sideboard come from Babette’s Miniatures, who have been making miniature dolls’ furnishings since the late Eighteenth Century.
The tile wall was printed by me.
