The Chimney Sweep

I recently read of an unfortunate man who died from carbon monoxide poisoning because the chimney sweep had failed to clear a bird's nest which was blocking the chimney. That wouldn't have happened when I was a little girl. The arrival of the sweep was very exciting. Not, I hasten to add, for the housewife who had to take down curtains and pictures and cover everything up. No vacuum cleaner because we had no electricity.
The sweep brought his paraphenalia of rods, brushes, sacks etc. on a small handcart. He would set a frame covered with a cloth with a hole in the middle against the fireplace and push up his rods with a brush on the first one screwing on the other rods as he pushed them up the chimney. It was my job to run outside and make sure the brush could be seen poking out of the chimnet pot. When I came breathlessly in and said "Yes" he would put a sack at the hole in the cloth to catch the soot and, one by one, unscrew the rods and lastly the brush. When he had gone the curtains had to be washed and ironed and put back, the skirting board and picture rail washed and everything tidied up. The room smelt of soot for some time afterwards. Quite hard work for my mother. It was as well to behave yourself on the day the sweep came as tempers were short.
Not everyone could afford sixpence for the sweep. Sixpence would buy a breast of lamb and some vegetables for a family dinner. Some scrag end of lamb and some carrots and dumplings perhaps. Hence there was plenty of scope for "do-it-yourself" jobs. One I well remember. Picture a small block of 15 flats. On the flat roof 5 rows of 3 chimney pots. A lady's two young grandsons offered to sweep her chimney They went up on to the flat roof with a house brick and a long length of rope. Tying the brick to the rope they let it down the chimney and as it went down, thump, thump, thump against the inside of the chimney it knocked the soot down. Granny would be prepared , having cleared the room, taken down the curtains etc. with a sack ready to receive the soot. All was going well. There was just one snag. The boys had chosen the wrong chimney! The soot descended, somewhat unexpectedly, into the sitting room of the flat next door to Granny!

Don't Count your Chickens

I congatulated myself too soon after a visit to the Eye Hospital last Tuesday. A nice lady rang to say I have to have another injection so another visit next Monday. The young man who took the pictures did say the eye wasn't any worse but I suppose the Consultant must have decided to have another go.
Another lovely September day, sunny and warm though it gets somewhat autumnal once the sun has gone down. My reverie was disturbed yesterday by the whine of a saw as someone was lopping a tree. All is peaceful today except for the occasional yelp from next door.
I am glad of the lovely soft, warm pashmina my granddaughter gave me a couple of Christmases ago. It keeps my ancient knees warm whilst I am listening to my audio books I have finished Rev. Francis Kilvert's Diaries. There was an interesting link with a TV programme I was watching about the Regency period which was when he was writing around 1790. A friend was in London for the coronation and gave him a first hand account of how Queen Caroline was turned away from the Abbey at George IV's coronation. My word! What goings on!
I rang to ask for a new cheque book as the usual replacement hadn't come. My goodness. The security hoops I had to jump through. You would have thought I was after the Crown Jewels. By the time I had listened to all the buttons I might want to press I had forgotten the first one and had to start again. I think the poet (?) Pam Ayres said the next time she is told "Press one" she is going for her gun. Anyway, a nice lady put me right and promised me a new book "in 7 to 10 days". What do you know? A cheque book turned up in the next post. So the automatic renewal is still working if a little late. I won't upset the nice lady by cancelling my order.

The Foundation Girls

I was talking to the young lady who helps me in the house about the cost of school uniforms especially if .as in her case. they can only be bought from one supplier.
How fortunate I was! The school I attended from 7 years old till 11 was started by the wife of the then Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Tenison, in 1706. Its first pupils were 12 poor girls who were given clothes and shoes so that they could go to school. Through the years the school grew and the practice continued of choosing 12 poor girls to receive this bounty. They were known as the Foundation Girls. I was proud to be one of these. We were given a uniform, winter and summer in return our parents had to sign to say that we would attend school regularly, clean and suitably clad: we would say our prayers each day: we would attend Church and Sunday School: we must be baptised and we would be of good behaviour in and out of school.
On Church Feast days such as Ascension Day, we 12 girls would dress in very old costumes and process to church. People would come to their doors to see us pass by. The costume, presumably replicas of the original uniform, consisted of a long faded blue skirt, a white blouse, a sort of frock coat with elbow length sleeves. We wore large white collars like the Puritans wore, a little white bonnet and long lacy ,yellow mittens.
My mother must have been very thankful for this assistance.
I don't have any pictures, more's the pity but in about 1933 British Movietone News came to the school to make a film about us in our costumes. I was told about it by someone who saw the film but I have never managed to track it down.

Boom Box

Mike sent away for a Boom Box. It has just arrived and means I can listen to my audio books wherever I wish instead of having to sit at the computer. As my friends say "Everyone should have a Mike." It is a very neat little thing and the sound is excellent. So think of me going to bed tonight with Dick Francis- my favourite thriller writer.

Another Day Out

Lunch on Wednesday at the Bell at Alresford with our friend from Tokyo who is visiting her family in Bath. S looking well,and surmounting all her difficulties in her usual optimistic frame of mind , was an inspiration to all us moaners.
The party of six was a lively one with much hearty laughter. Jane chose the venue well. The food was delicious and reasonably priced. The service was unobtrusive and friendly. Since my eyesight is fading I have become obsessive about light. As is fashionable the lighting was "romantically low" but as I was seated next to the window I coped. I do hope the way the restaurants have jumped on the band wagon of energy saving (i.e. money saving) will pass and we can go back to the good old days of seeing what is on the end of our forks! I find it is a bit of a lucky dip. However, no grumbling. It was a lovely day and I am grateful to my family for taking me for another nice day out.

Lazy Afternoon

In a somnolent posture, still needing to solve the last four clues to finish the D.T. crossword, I am startled by a sharp yelp. The dog next door has spied a cat. The yelp is followed by a series of barks. I settle back only to be roused again. This time by a loud rattle of raindrops on the conservatory roof. The trees at the end of the garden move wildly about their leaves rustling with quite a clatter. The tall eucalyptus waves to and fro and the bamboo is bending downwards to the earth.. It is just a sharp shower and soon the sky is blue again with white fleecy clouds floating overhead. I was right to go shopping early this morning thus missing the rain.
A hanging basket of the most beautiful fuschias is on the wall opposite my bedroom window. The pelargoniums in the conservatory are in full bloom including one new to me called "Fireworks" which was given to me last year. The garden is looking nice. The sedums, so easy to grow, are just beginning to show pink tips. The pots of herbs on the balcony upstairs are rivalling the pictures of the balcony herb garden sent by our Tokyo friend.
The children are back at school this week including my two little French boys who went back home to Paris on Sunday.
I suppose that means the end of summer but not to despair - we often get lovely weather in September.

Audio Books

I have just received a book from the Calibre Audio Library. This is a charity that posts cassettes, MP3s or memory sticks to anyone who has difficulty reading print. The service is completely free but they do rely on donations.fund-raising events and the work of dedicated volunteers, so that is on my small list of charities from now on.
Don't expect to see a blog for a while as this book is "Francis Kilvert's Diaries" with 16 hours of reading!
When I worked at the Home Office Aliens Department in 1945/6 next door to the Old Bailey Central Criminal Court I enrolled at the City Literary Institute for a Literature course. The subject was "English Diarists" and I have been an avid reader of journals and diaries ever since.

The Killing

I have been late to bed for some days as I have been watching re-run of the Danish film "The Killing" which I missed when it was first shown. Although the story is dire I am utterly hooked. The acting is superb. I really live each moment with the characters and I can hardly wait for the next instalment. The detective wears the same jumper from Goodrun & Goodrun of the Faroe Islands each day as the story unfolds. Did the producer think we would not recognise her in another outfit or did the actress just love the jumper?
During the war (my war) I knitted a pair of mitts in that self-same pattern. It was called "snowflake".
I am about to write a protest to the BBC about their proposal to cut down on BBC4. It is so often the only channel worth spending time with. I look at BBC4 programme listings before anything else. Even programmes about which I think are beyond me e.g. "Maths" or Astronomy are so well presented that I find myself watching to the end. Here ends today's rant!