Middle-aged vampires.

Monday 2 Aug 2010 by admin | No Comments
Filed under: The parrot has landed. Tags: , ,

I was watering the tomatoes at dusk when I heard above me the sound you would get if you sat suddenly on a teddy bear.  I looked up to see two bats wheeling away from each other, rather sharply.  Of course, the wonderful thing about bats is that they have the most incredible radar that can detect tiny moths anywhere and, naturally, other bats and it works absolutely perfectly, no matter how old and deaf they get.  And I got to thinking: vampires – they can’t all be in their twenties, can they?

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Have you got the bags?

Bags?

Have you got the bags?

Oh no, I thought you had them.

I gave them to you.

No you didn’t.

Yes, you remember, you were filling the dishwasher and I handed them to you and I said ‘Here’s the bags for tonight, put them in the trolley.’

Trolley?

Oh you haven’t gone and put them in the dishwasher again?

Sorry, I didn’t know they were clean ones. It’s daft handing me clean ones when I’m stacking the dishwasher. Oh well, they’ll just get washed twice.

They were the PET compound ones, you can’t do them in the dishwasher, it distorts the valves and blocks the filters, it’s too hot.

I thought you said you could do them in the dishwasher, they came out sparkling, you said, even with the supermarket tablets.

No, that was the foil bags.  You can do foil vacuum blood bags in the dishwasher, but you have to do the plastic ones by hand, how many times do I have to tell you?  It’s quite simple – silver foil bags, silver dishwasher; wrinkly white plastic bags, hands.

Oh for goodness’ sake, what a fuss.  Why do we have to have recycled ones anyway?  It was so much simpler when we just bought new ones.  It’s not as if they’re expensive.

Every little helps.  It’s no use being wasteful, there’s no knowing what the government will do to pensions in the current economic climate.

Oh don’t get started on that again.

Well somebody has to worry, you just fly through life………Right I’ve found some other bags at the back of the drawer but there’s not many.  Remind me to put them on the shopping list.  No, I’ll do it now.  Blood bags.  There. Just move out of the way and let me have a look in the fridge to see how many we’ve got in.

You already looked.

I know but I can’t remember what I said.  We’re running low on phosphate.  You haven’t put the lid on your jar of liver nibbles again, I spend my life clearing up after you. Platelet pate in the salad drawer, how many times!  Right only three full bags and a half sucked one without a cap on, we’d better get going.

I am going, I’m in the hall.  Waiting.  Where are you?

Have you seen my specs?

They’ll be in your handbag.

They’re not.  Now where did I last have them?

You were reading The Surgeon, you were reading bits out to me when I was trying to watch the news.

I’ll look in the lounge.  They’re not in here….. I wonder…….Oh I know.  I think I was wearing them when I phoned my mother back.

Oh that old bat. She was flittering on all the way though my detective programme. Why does she always ring on Tuesday evening? It’s only one hour a week, it’s not much to ask.

Well if you could work out how to use the recording thing…..ah, here they are.  Right, are you ready, if we don’t get off soon it’ll be morning.  OK I’m good to go.  Now where are you off to?

I’m just popping to the toilet.

Dr Mark Porter said in the Times that you’ll never retrain your bladder  if you go a dozen times before you go out.

What does he know?  He’s not old enough to have a prostate. I’ll just be a tick.

What a palaver.  We’re only popping out for a quick suck and a top up, it’s not like we were entertaining, or the transfusion service or something.  I could do it quicker on my own.  Actually, while you’re doing that I’ll just fly upstairs and put some more Ibuprofen gel on my wing.  Ooh, that is so stiff.

There we are.  Didn’t need to go after all.  Now where has she gone?                  Where are you?

Here.  Can you stand behind me and put some of this gel on the back of my neck? I can’t reach.

Are we ever going to get out tonight?  There, how’s that?

Fine thanks.  Well, it will be soon I hope, I could do with a stronger one.  Just leave it on the hall table.  Right, finally.  Where are we going?  That new housing estate off the motorway?

If you want.

Where are you off to now?

To get the sat nav.  Can you remember how to programme it?

No, you find the instructions while I rummage in my bag for my specs……..

 

Did you see where I put my handbag? I had it a moment ago……….

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JaneLaverick.com – worth reading again with your glasses on.

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Welcome new shoppers!

Friday 30 Jul 2010 by admin | No Comments
Filed under: Site information. Tags: , ,

P1010010

A huge welcome to new shoppers who have found me through the ad in the Dolls House Magazine!  If you were a regular reader of my column, interviews and assorted articles in that magazine and wondered where I had gone – here I am!

JaneLaverick.com has been going for nearly a year, it was launched in time for Autumn Miniatura ‘09 (and how long ago does ‘09 seem? can you even remember how you were wearing your hair then?)  This site is all my own work with the help of my computery son, who got it set up and showed me how to get my photos of my work up into the virtual shop.  It has to be said it was uphill work for him poor thing.  At one point during a tutorial I started laughing hysterically – my brain was full!

Anyway nearly a year later I think I may know what I’m doing sufficiently to advertise, slightly, and if you found the advert and remembered long enough to get the computer going, well done you.

There are two parts to this site.  One is all the writing, which is known as a blog, which is short for weblog.  The other is an online shop where you can buy collectables with a plastic card and they will be posted to you.

You can enter the shop by clicking on the shop button to the right where it says: View the Shop ‘Click here to go shopping’.  You can get back to this page by scrolling down to find a picture of a doll on a cotton reel.  It says: View the blog, clicking on that brings you back here.  You can also go forward and back by clicking on your computer’s forward and back arrows in the top left hand corner of your computer screen.

Everything in the shop has been made by me of my own invention to my own designs. Apart from here the only other place you can buy them is at the Miniatura dolls house shows.  Items are for adult collectors, these are not children’s toys but apart from wilful damage, things should last; they are properly hand made in traditional materials.  I’m not a TV shopping channel, I couldn’t afford for you to play with them for a month and then send them back because you were tired of them but I have designed them to be enjoyed; dolls’ house artefacts are meant to be heirlooms, which is why I make mine by painstaking traditional methods.  The dolls are made of proper kiln-fired porcelain, they are not made of modelling clay just dried out in a domestic oven.  Clothes are sewn, not glued and when I say a doll wig is brushable, you really can brush it.  You can make clothes, dress the doll and then brush the hair.  Not violently as a child would a plastic fashion doll but carefully as an adult collector.  Paintings are proper varnished oil paintings on board, they are individually painted by me, with a brush, not printed or reproduced by mechanical means.

Don’t let the prices put you off, some of them are very reasonable indeed for hand made collectable artist’s original works.  I’m hoping you will love them so much you’ll become a frequent shopper, I’m hoping to persuade you to my view of the world which is small but beautifully made and above all things, fun.  However if you are not happy with your purchase, please contact me.  I want you to be happy, I want you to compare what I make with similar things in comparable materials, (if you can find them,) decide mine are better made and better value and then come back and shop again.

If you would like to order, having chosen by setting the filters or scrolling through the shop pages, you will find that the postage charges are per parcel, not per item.  I can do this because I am the packaging department.  I am also the walking up to the post office department.  It’s less work for me to put everything in one parcel and  go to the post once and better value for you.  So I try to make sure there are always little ‘top up’ items at top up prices, so you get a nice full, good-value parcel.  I love a parcel full of nice things to arrive by post, I hope you do too.  Everything in the virtual shop exists in reality, waiting to go, and there is exactly one of each photographed thing.  The one you see is the one you get.  I photograph the items for the shop and then put them through a complex computer programme so they appear in the shop with a zoom facility.  You can pick them up in your virtual hand by clicking on the buttons on the bottom right of a picture. The + button, clicked upon, will zoom in to a magnification much greater than you could get with your naked eye (or even your eye with its specs on – have you found them yet?) When it’s big you can pick the picture up and move it around with your cursor, just as you would if you were having a look at a doll on my stand at the  Min.  The – button smallerates  the pic, the house returns it to the original size and the other button makes it full screen.  Crikey, you can practically see the atoms!

I know it’s a leap of faith to buy something off the computer, which is why I’ve done my best to show the things as closely and clearly as possible, yet I promise, if you like the picture, you’ll like them better in your hand. I have not photographed dolls in settings or houses, what you see on the screen is what you receive with the exception of some props such as cotton reels and postage stamps to show how small the items are. This is the collectables shop that is always open.  I add to items in the shop as I make them.  To the right of the shop pictures there is always the list to click on that explains exactly how I make the things I make and what I mean by technical terms.  There are no secrets here; if you wish to take quarter of a century to learn how to miniaturise, as I did, it is set out in plain language.

The blog, the bit you’re reading now, is completely free and changes for a new bit about three times a week.  It’s all written by me and made up out of my head.  Why would I spend so many hours a week doing something for free?  Partly because I know if you like the blog, you’ll love the dolls but also because of the hundreds of letters I received during all the years that I wrote for magazines. So often readers wrote to me when they were going through a difficult time in their lives and said that articles they read that I had written in magazines lifted their spirits and gave them a laugh.  I know readers reread words I had written many times. 

Early in my show career I was puzzled by visitors running up to my stand, gabbling something, laughing like a drain and running off into the crowd.  Eventually I caught someone to discover the cause of their apparent insanity.  It turns out that people were memorising jokes from my column and, in some cases, entire paragraphs, nerving themselves up and then running to tell me my own jokes back again before they could forget them.  I have also been responsible for some near divorces over the years as miniaturists have forced their significant others to listen as they read extracts from my column to them, and sometimes re-enacted the entire thing.  On one notable occasion the lady reader’s bedtime performance caused so much hysteria she wet the bed and she and her husband had to get up and change  the sheets.  There are buttons to enable you to tell your friends on Digg, Twitter and all the rest about funny things you read here and want to share.  You can have alerts on your mobile phone when I post because, whilst I try to do so three times a week, sometimes a really long bit of writing takes a while to do and sometimes I feel funny more often than three times a week.  Everything I have ever written here is archived – if you’ve just found me you have hours of reading ahead of you.  To access the older stuff either scroll down to the bottom of the endless page to time travel backwards, or click on one of the categories on the right: Miniatura, site information, Werse, The Parrot has landed and so on.  Then select by month.  Or you can select a month and take pot luck.  Clicking on the buttons cannot possibly break anything on the site, please click away all you wish.  It is not possible to buy anything ‘accidentally’ in the shop. There are several screens to go through, the last is a disclaimer to remind you that shop products are for adult collectors.  If you never see that screen you have not bought anything, so if you wish to practise purchase, you can.  Once you have gone through all the steps and checked out, the item will disappear from the shop.  If you are completing a purchase and need a pictorial memory of the doll please print if off before you complete. Whilst the content of this site and everything I make is copyright, of course you can print off your own catalogue and take it up to bed with a cup of tea.  The only qualifications to be here are to like little things and to enjoy a good laugh. There is nothing here you couldn’t show your granny.  JaneLaverick.com is regularly read by people in over 30 countries and twenty five languages.

Coming soon will be profiles of artists, linked to the Miniatura website, for use as a resource for miniature art collectors.  I have always believed that the hobby goes far beyond a dolls’ house.  I was brought up with antiques and collecting; so much that I see  convinces me that many aspects of mini art bear the hallmarks of a genuine art movement.  I see evidence of artists with lifetime skills, working to produce wonderful artefacts by brain, hand and eye that enrich our understanding and provide a window on the world, in a way that I feel is lacking in much so called big ‘modern art’ today. Crucially this is art for ordinary non-millionaire collectors spending pocket money, if it isn’t relevant, attractive and good value they don’t buy it.  In full size art the emperor is not wearing any clothes at all; in miniature, they are hand embroidered and lined and you can inspect the quality as closely as you wish, before you buy one for you.

Finally, if you love this site and want more than one woman has breathing time in a day to give you, the links page, accessed by clicking on ‘links’ to the right will take you by click to other sites I think you’ll enjoy.

And finally, finally do email me. Tell me what you think.  You can make comments on bits of writing, which I’ll post if suitable – join in, please!

And finally, finally, lastly, finally, really (probably) thank you for reading all those magazines for all those years, I hope you’ll be delighted to find I can be silly about a lot more things than dolls houses.  I am, basically, very silly and work hard at it.  I’m here for shopping and fun, for you.

JaneLaverick.com – online shopping and a jolly good laugh.

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Knickerbocker Glory with treacle toffee.

Tuesday 27 Jul 2010 by admin | No Comments
Filed under: Knickerbocker Glory Tags: ,

Do you know, it wasn’t until I began typing up my rejected radio plays that I realised what a lot of food features in my writing.  I once wrote a novel featuring Pic’n’Mix.  It’s still looking for a publisher, if you know one.  Meanwhile, this:

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                           The Village of the Dim.

                                The silent birds.

Rural music.  No birdsong.

Ethereal voice           Once again here we are deep in the countryside, nice
                      morning, clouding over later 50% chance of 
                      precipitation in the afternoon where the – wait a
                      minute – play the theme music again.

Rural music.  No birdsong.

Ethereal voice           Did you notice something missing? Again, please.

Quick snatch of rural music.

Ethereal voice           As I thought, no birdsong.  Well that is strange.  I
                      wonder why the birds have fallen silent here in the

FX Da Da Da!

Ethereal voice          Village of the Dim?  How very odd.  Happily help is
                      at hand in the shape of the great detective,
                      Millennium Domes and his tame idiot, Watsup,
                      back in his native village to rescue the villagers
                      from a silent spring.

Watsup                       Listen Domes, my Auntie was right, there isn’t a
                      single bird singing anywhere in the village.

Domes                        It is indeed strange, Watsup, for birds were singing
                      loudly in the fields we passed to get here.  As you 
                      observed, the silence seems to be affecting only the
                      birds in the village itself, which is quite remarkable.
                      We must talk to some villagers.

Watsup                       Here comes the road sweeper, Domes.  Shall I ask
                      him?

Domes                        You may interrogate him if you wish, Watsup.

Watsup                       Oh I can’t do that, you know, Domes.  I haven’t got
                      a table lamp and even if I had there’s nowhere to
                      plug it in here in the street.


Domes                         A bright light is not necessary, old fellow, merely ask
                       him some questions.

Watsup                        Really, Domes?  Like a quiz, you mean. General
                       knowledge, that sort of stuff? Should he form a
                       team?

Domes                          Questions about the silence, Watsup.

Watsup                         Very well, I’ll try.  Excuse me, honest sweeper
                        how long has it been silent?

Sweeper(guessing) Er, six inches?

Domes                            Allow me, Watsup.  Road sweeper, have you
                        noticed the birds have stopped singing?

Sweeper                        I have trapped my gigantic mackerel in the door and
                        now the end has come off.

Watsup                         I think you’ve confused him, Domes.  Let me try.
                        Listen, honest sweeper

Pause

Watsup                          What do you hear?

Sweeper                          Rol fiddly eye oh.  I can hear the sun shine.

Watsup                           Yes but can you hear the birds singing?

Sweeper                           No but I can be sick in three different colours.

Watsup                              Aha!  Listen to that, Domes, even the road
                          sweeper has noticed the silence.  Tell me, road
                          sweeper, how long have you been able to hear
                          the sun shining?

Sweeper                            Ever since I was a tadpole.  Don’t breathe that
                          air, you’ve no idea whose lungs it’s been in!

Domes                               I fear we will get nothing more from the road
                          sweeper, Watsup.

Sweeper                            Have a bit of grit, it’s lovely and crunchy!

Watsup                             Perhaps you’re right. Domes.  Where shall we go
                          now?

Sweeper                            Timbuctoo, my darling, on a slice of flying custard.

Domes                               I think we’ll go and talk to Mrs Cakemix at the 
                          village teashop.  It’s just over there and we could 
                          have a coffee and cake, if you wish.

Watsup                              That would be splendid, Domes, we got up so
                           early, I missed breakfast.

Sweeper                             I miss my bed and sleep on the floor, quite often.

Domes                                 Thank you for your time, road sweeper, goodbye.

Sweeper                              I can hide a lemon in  a very surprising place.

Domes(fading out)  Thank you so much, please don’t demonstrate.

(Fade up) Domes        Ah, here is the teashop.

Tinkly bell

Watsup                                 Hello Mrs Cakemix.

Mrs Cakemix                      Hello young Watsup.  Hello Mr Domes.  Go 
                            away, we’re closed.  What brings you here?

Watsup                                 We’ve come to solve a mystery, Mrs Cakemix. 
                            Do you really want us to leave?

Mrs Cakemix                      No, of course not, dearie.  It’s just that I have to
                            warn people that I can’t do a full menu because
                            of the shortages.

Domes                                   Shortages, Mrs Cakemix?

Mrs Cakemix                      Yes, isn’t it awful? I can offer you beverages  
                            as usual but the rest of the menu is limited to  
                            prunes, an omelette or a lollipop for after.  It’s 
                            an absolute disaster for a cake shop.

Domes                                    Ah, I see.  What can you no longer offer,
                             Mrs Cakemix?

Mrs Cakemix                      There’s a very extensive menu that I cannot do 
                             at all. There’s no cake, of course, no breads  
                             no scones or fancies.  Nothing that goes  
                             with toast, so no rarebit or baked beans. And 
                             it’s worse than that, it’s dried up my light 
                             lunches because there’s no gravy or custard. I 
                             can’t even do soup without rolls.  If the infants 
                             don’t finish their scrapbooks soon, we’ll all 
                             starve!

Watsup                                    Domes this is terrible.  First all the birds stop
                              singing and now Mrs Cakemix can’t even give
                              us anything to eat.

Mrs Cakemix                         Oh you’ve noticed the dickie birds, have you?
                              My goodness, young Watsup, you always were
                              quick as a slug. He was the first to notice when
                              the church fell down the mineshaft, Mr Domes.
                              Pity about the verger.  Still, never mind. And 
                              now it’s all gone quiet, here he is, putting his
                              finger on the problem, bright as ink.

Domes                                      How long have the birds been silent, Mrs
                              Cakemix?

Mrs Cakemix                         Well, let me see.  They stopped singing round
                              about Tuesday.

Domes                                      And how long have the infants been doing 
                              their scrapbooks?

Mrs Cakemix                         Oh all week.  They started first thing  
                              Monday morning.  That’s the problem
                              of course, it’s been all week.

Watsup                                     Domes, I’m confused.  What have the 
                               infants’ scrapbooks got to do with
                               Mrs Cakemixes menu?

Domes                                       All in good time, dear fellow.  First tell
                               me, Watsup, were you a member of the
                               infants school here in the

FX Da Da Da!

Domes                                       Village of the Dim?

Watsup                                      Oh yes, rather.  Loved it.  I was in the 
                               infants until I was ten, or was it twelve?
                               That’s five years or seven add twelve or 
                               ten is, oh dear. Well, a long time.  I 
                               could tell you exactly if I could take my
                               shoes and socks off.  Give or take a
                               bunion.

Domes                                        Never mind, dear fellow.  Tell me, is 
                                it a large infants school?

Watsup                                        Absolutely enormous, Domes.  Huge. 
                                It has to be because there are so many 
                                infants in the village. You see everybody 
                                stays in the infants school until they can 
                                write letters with the correct end of the 
                                pencil and add up to, ooh, big numbers. 
                                Many never graduate to the junior school 
                                and the villagers traditionally have very 
                                large families because most never find  
                                out what’s causing them.  The village 
                                would be full to overflowing if it weren’t 
                                for the other tradition of leaving at  
                                sixteen and not coming back.  Some 
                                children get quite far.  In fact, Domes, 
                                there are Dim people scattered all over 
                                the world.

Domes                                          You do surprise me.

Watsup                                         No, it’s true, you know.  But I still don’t
                                 see what this has to do with the shortages.

Domes                                           Simply, Watsup, that the schoolmistress 
                                 decided the whole school should do 
                                 scrapbooks this week and accordingly 
                                 went out and bought all the flour in the  
                                 village to make flour and water paste. 
                                  Isn’t that right, Mrs Cakemix?

Mrs Cakemix                                Exactly, Mr Domes and very cross I 
                                  was to find there wasn’t a scrap of
                                  flour left anywhere.  I can’t do my
                                  baking at all and there won’t be another
                                  delivery until Saturday.  If you think I’m
                                  upset, you should see the baker.

Domes                                             Mrs Cakemix, I think we shall do just 
                                  that.

Mrs Cakemix                               Turn the sign to closed on your way
                                  out, please.  There’s no point in
                                  being open.  Nice to see you, young
                                  Watsup.

Watsup                                            Bye Mrs Cakemix.

Tinkly shop bell.

Watsup                                            So now we know why Mrs Cakemix 
                                   has nothing on the menu, Domes but we
                                   still haven’t discovered why the birds are
                                   silent.  I wonder if we shall ever know?

Domes                                               I think we are about to find out, Watsup.
                                    Ah, here is the bakery.  Do you know 
                                    the baker by any chance?

Watsup                                              Yes, of course, Domes, I went to
                                    school with her.  She’s called Flora Bun.
                                    She never married though she has 
                                    thirteen little Buns in the infants school.

Domes                                                A baker’s dozen, eh?

Tinkly shop bell

Domes                                              Ah, good day, Miss Bun.

Flora                                               Good day to you sir, what a fine figure 
                                  of a man you are.

Watsup                                           Hello Flora.

Flora                                                Watsup!  Sweetie pie!  How are you?
                                   Give us a kiss.  I heard you had come
                                   back.  Give us a cuddle.

Watsup                                           Not at the moment.  This is my friend
                                  Millennium Domes, the great detective.

Flora                                               Is he great?  I bet he is.  Come here and 
                                  let me find out.

Domes                                             Thank you madam but I must decline.

Flora                                                Must you?  Can I watch?

Watsup                                            Now, now Flora, control yourself.

Flora                                                I’ll try but it ain’t natural.

Domes                                              We’re here to ask about the flour shortage
                                   Madam.

Flora                                                 Ain’t it dreadful?  Look at the shop, it’s
                                   empty.  Normally I could offer you so
                                   much.  At this time of the morning I
                                   usually have plenty of big white family
                                   loaves, trays full of lovely squashy
                                   doughnuts, baskets full of biscuits and
                                   more rolls than you could handle. And big
                                   enormous floury baps.  I always have
                                   enormous  floury baps.  But not today.
                                   I’m like a shrivelled old lady, I’ve got
                                   nothing on offer but little flat doilies.  My
                                   regulars are very upset, I can tell you.  Do
                                   you want a quick cuddle out the back?  Go
                                   on, it’ll cheer us all up.

Domes                                             No thank you Madam but perhaps you
                                  could tell us who your regulars are?

Flora                                                All and sundry, dear, I ain’t particular.
                                  What a nice pipe.  I like a man with a nice 
                                   big pipe, yours has a shiny bowl and a
                                   curly end. I like your curly end.

Domes                                             Quite.  Who is your best customer, might
                                   I enquire?

Flora                                                You might enquire as much as you like.  I
                                  don’t mind; I enjoy it. It’s Mrs Looney.

Domes                                             Does she have a regular order, Miss Bun?

Flora                                                Yes, my lover, she does.  You can have a
                                   regular order if you wants one.

Domes                                              What is it?

Flora                                                 Whatever you like.  Wait a minute, I’ll get
                                    a pencil.  There, now I’m ready to take
                                    down whatever you say.

Watsup                                              I think, Flora, that Mr Domes wants to 
                                    know what Mrs Looney’s order is.

Flora                                                   Oh, I see.  She has five large white loaves
                                    and two dozen baps every day regular as
                                    clockwork except Saturday when she has it
                                    twice.  You could order twice on Saturday 
                                    if you wanted.

Watsup                                            No thank you, Flora, we’re only passing
                                   through.  That is a very big order, Domes,
                                   considering Mrs Looney lives all alone.  It’s
                                   very strange.

Domes                                            On the contrary, Watsup, I think it may 
                                   prove very enlightening.  Thank you Miss
                                   Bun, good day to you.

Flora                                                Good day to you, you two lusty young
                                   gentlemen.  I hope you’ll come back and
                                   see my enormous baps another day.  Give
                                   us a goodbye kiss.

Domes                                          Thank you Madam, no. Out Watsup, hurry   
                                she’s coming round the counter.

Tinkly shop bell, door slams.

Domes                                            My goodness, Watsup, we barely escaped
                                  there!

Watsup                                          She’s always been a very affectionate girl
                                  Flora; spreads herself round the village 
                                  no end.  Where to now, Domes?

Domes                                           I think we should seek out Mrs Looney,
                                 Watsup.  In fact if I’m not mistaken
                                 that is her over there by the  duck pond.

Watsup                                          So it is, Domes, well spotted.  Mind you, 
                                  she’d be difficult to miss, nobody else is as 
                                 tall, skinny or fast.

Domes                                           Indeed Watsup, she is like jet-propelled string.

Watsup                                        So she is, Domes but that wheelbarrow 
                                 she’s pushing seems to be slowing her
                                 down.  Whatever is she doing?  She
                                 seems to be taking something from
                                 the barrow and throwing it at the ducks.
                                 Hello Mrs Looney!   
  
Mrs Looney                                 Well if it isn’t young Watsup and his friend.

Watsup                                         It is, you know.

Mrs Looney                                  I know, I recognised you straight away by
                                  your faces.  We might be stupid here in the

FX Da Da Da!

Mrs Looney                                Village of the Dim but we’re not stupid, you
                                know. Have you come to help?

Watsup                                        What is that you’re throwing at the ducks,
                                 Mrs Looney?

Mrs Looney                                Not at dear; to.  At would be nasty.  You
                                must be kind to all the feathery things.

Watsup                                        Birds Mrs Looney.

Mrs Looney                                Them too dear.  Birds are my friends.
                                I like birds.

Domes                                          Do you feed them everyday Mrs Looney?

Mrs Looney                                 Yes Mr Domes, I get my little barrow and
                                 I go all round the village.

Watsup                                        The bread, Domes, that explains why Mrs
                                 Looney buys so much bread!

Mrs Looney                                 That’s right, Master Watsup.  What a quick
                                 little boy you are!  He’s very intelligent you
                                 know Mr Domes.  He was the first one to
                                 notice where the church had gone when it
                                 fell down the mineshaft. Its a pity about
                                 the verger, still, never mind.

Domes                                           So you feed bread to all the birds in the
                                 village every day, Mrs Looney?

Mrs Looney                                  That’s right, Mr Domes.  They’re always
                                  waiting for me.  Some of them follow me
                                  from place to place and have seconds.  Isn’t
                                  that lovely? Someone has to do it, you know
                                  otherwise they get very desperate and start 
                                  eating all sorts of nasty things.  Worms and
                                  beetles and all sorts of muck.  So I look
                                  after them and give them lovely fresh bread.
                                  Come to Mrs Looney my lovelies, come and
                                  get your breakfast.

Watsup                                           But there isn’t any bread this week Mrs
                                  Looney because of the flour shortages.

Mrs Looney                                   That’s right, Master Watsup.  Bright as
                                  a puddle, you are.

Watsup                                          So what have you been feeding them?

Domes                                            I think if you look in the wheel barrow,
                                 Watsup, you will see that it is full of treacle 
                                 toffee.

Watsup                                         By Jove, so it is, Domes. Have you fed
                                 them with treacle toffee all week, Mrs
                                 Looney?  

Mrs Looney                                Except for tomorrow, young Watsup.  This is
                                the last barrow load the sweetie shop had. So
                                tomorrow it will be minty bullets.  Would you
                                like minty bullets, my lovelies? Its strange 
                                you know, they’ve all stopped talking to me.
                                It’s difficult to know what they want.  Would
                                you prefer liquorice allsorts, my little friends?
                                Oh I do wish they would speak to me.  

Domes                                         Mrs Looney, I think if you were to take a jug
                                of warm water round with you and perhaps
                                a saucer to pour it into that would remedy
                                the situation.  The birds are silent, I think you
                                will find because their beaks are stuck
                                together with treacle toffee.  Warm water for
                                them to wash in and drink and the passage
                                of time should have them talking to you
                                once more.

  
Mrs Looney                                Oh I never thought of that.  Do you think 
                                they would prefer tea?  How many sugars? 

Domes                                         No, my good woman.  I should just stick to
                                water.

Mrs Looney                                No, I don’t think you will because it isn’t
                                sticky.

Domes                                        And neither will the birds, Mrs Looney.

Mrs Looney                               Right ho, water it is.  We might be a bit
                               daft here in the

FX Da Da Da!

Mrs Looney                              Village of the Dim but we are all capable of
                               learning.  Here you are my birdies, no more 
                               treacle toffee Mr Domes says, so tomorrow
                               I shall bring you a treat.  Humbugs tomorrow
                               and bubble gum on Friday.

Watsup                                     My goodness, Domes, I think the whole
                              village will be glad to get fresh flour supplies
                              on Saturday.

Domes                                     Especially the birds, Watsup. Oh, here comes
                              Mrs On Won Hanger, proprietress of the
                              Chinese Laundry here in the

FX Da Da Da!

Domes                                    Village of the Dim.  She at least looks happy.
                             Hello Mrs On Won Hanger, might we enquire
                             why you look so happy?

Mrs Hanger                          I rook happy because I rove riving here in the

FX Da Da Da!

Mrs Hanger                          Virrage of the Dim.  You terr me, where erse
                            does it lain tleacurr toffee?  Rook!  It is arr over 
                            the load.  Arr you have to do is pick it up.  I
                            have corrected thlee bags furr this morning
                            arone.  I’m setting up a siderine as a sweet shop.
                            I understand the virrage sweet shop has lun out
                            of treacurr toffee so I’m expecting a rot of
                            business.  My goodness I am panting with arr
                            of this bending over and picking up.  Rook!
                            There is more over there!


Watsup                                 Wait until Friday, Mrs Hanger, you’ll be panting
                            but over the moon!

Mrs Hanger                        Reeve the pantaroons on the doorstep. I wirr
                            wash them tomollow!

Rural music and birds coughing.

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JaneLaverick.com – putting effort into being silly.

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A resource for miniaturists.

Monday 26 Jul 2010 by admin | No Comments
Filed under: About artists. Tags:

If your interest in miniature art has been awakened by postings here, you may like to visit a growing resource for all things miniature provided by Lesley Shepherd.

At http://miniatures.about.com you will find polymer clay workshops, information about artists, photo galleries, basic dolls house plans, printer projects and so much more in a very interactive site.  Be warned – this is a rabbit hole to a better, smaller world, you could have serious fun down there.  Make sandwiches before you click the link would be my advice.

JaneLaverick.com – part of the world wide wonderful weeny web.

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Mrs Beetroot’s book of household mismanagement 8

Thursday 22 Jul 2010 by admin | No Comments
Filed under: Mrs Beetroot's book of household mismanagement. Tags: , ,

Come with me to yesteryear, let us float there on a river of laundry.  Past the ancient twin tub, round the bend with the removable agitator paddle, over the poss stick falls to arrive at last in the calm and deep waters of the five o’ clock copper, the coopered half barrel, the corrugated wash board and the endless, endless oceans of starch.  Poor Mrs Beetroot, every stitch from her separate-leg drawers to her over apron and morning cap was starched stiff as a board and ironed to the knife edge she was on even before the new laundry maid got started.

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         The indoctrination of newly arrived laundry maids.

A well conducted household is judged by all comers on the shininess of its freshly pressed linens and the crisp rustle of its starched cottons.  The lowliest grocer’s boy cannot but fail to observe soft and floppy aprons on servants answering the door at the tradesman’s entrance; taking the servants to be lax by their appearance he is apt to develop the habit of bringing substandard vegetables as a matter of course.  Bolted chard, hard peas, woody carrots and wormy cabbages could so easily fall upon the table of a household wanting in the starch department.  The type of coals sent tumbling down the chute of a housekeeper with soft lappets can only result in spitting fires and none but the mistress to blame.

So it falls to the mistress of the house to indoctrinate each and every new laundry maid in the mysteries of starch and, having done so, to ascertain periodically that her instructions are being followed.  When passing any servant who is wearing an apron, the mistress should take care to strike the apron with a carpet beater which she may carry upon a chatelaine for the purpose.  An adequately starched apron should ring like a bell and bear the imprint of every detail of the beater for up to an hour afterwards.  Needless to say, a properly starched apron will in no wise permit any harm to befall the wearer and is, in itself, preservative of life, as evinced by their invariable use as suitable garments for hospital nurses, who find that bile and all manner of effluviences simply slide off a well starched, polished apron on to the floor.

Mode  Add half a pint of well water to six tablespoons of starch and stir for fifteen minutes with a wooden spoon in a japanned jug. It is important to note that freshly washed  articles should be readied in piles for dipping.  Any that have not been adequately cleaned in the first wash should be treated.  Rust stains can be got out by covering with a paste of fuller’s earth and fowl dung rubbed in lightly with vinegar and wrung through a mangle over the sink to get rid of the residue. Ink stains can be almost made to vanish by covering the area with a flour and water paste, pounded in and rinsed off over the sink.  Soiling on collars from proximity to the oils in the neck can be improved by covering with a pounded mixture of white clay and spirits of gin, which should be left for five minutes and after shaken off over the sink.

Meanwhile get the laundry maid to bring a quart of any water to a rolling boil over a sharp fire.  It is of the utmost importance that the water is actually at the point of vigorous boiling when the maid tips it into the jug, having taken care that the mistress remove her spoon and hands first. If the maid is at all remiss in this the mistress may remind her by screaming once, sharply.  At once the maid must let go of the kettle and stir the spoon with all her might in a clockwise direction and, in a few moments, the starch will thicken.  If it does not the mixture should be strained through muslin and stirred over the fire.  It is possible, but not very efficacious, to add a tablespoon of isinglass or two ounces of rice bran at this stage, stirring with vigour.  If it still fails to thicken uniformly the entire mixture must be cast down the sink and the process recommenced.

At the inception of a new maid the process of starch making, so necessary to the well being of the household, should be repeated as many times as needed until the maid has the method by heart. A wise mistress will commence with a cheerful heart, a new maid and ten pounds of starch. Then the maid should be instructed in the method of dipping the clean damp clothes the very moment her hands are able to withstand the heat of the newly made starch.  Upon dipping, the article should be held to the light, over the sink, and any lumps assisted from lace collars, lappets, goffered flounces, laced drawer edges, petticoat frills and bonnet trimmings by clapping them vigorously between the hands.  A new maid who has not yet developed coarser skin upon her hands, as seasoned laundry maids and indeed common washer women are wont to do, may be distracted from the pain by a cheerful song.  A round is suitable if mistress and maid work together and by singing more quickly the mistress can speed the task.  I have known fully fifty articles to be laid upon the kitchen table starched by half past six on a Monday morning in a household that knew all the verses of the Halleluiah chorus.  All the starched articles should be wrapped tightly in cloths and the rolled cloths laid upon the dresser in stacks to be ironed.  This task the new laundry maid will be required to undertake alone upon the first occasion while the mistress, the footman, the butler and the cook work upon unblocking the sink with boiling water, spirits of ammonia, vinegar and flexible canes from the garden.  The maid should easily have finished the ironing  by the time the plumber has replaced the drainage pipes, enabling the mistress to assess if ironing instruction will be required  the following week or not.

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JaneLaverick.com – clean as a whistle, stiff as board.

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Art and the doing of it.

Wednesday 21 Jul 2010 by admin | No Comments
Filed under: Nostalgia Tags:

P1010130

Here’s a very arty picture of reconstruction work on the Clifton suspension bridge.  Here’s another

P1010123

sadly art farty photos are the nearest I’m getting to painting at present because of painting.

The fence, as you ask.  I am within a whisker of finishing the fences and another whisker of finishing the writing shed. Then when I have made the fantastic silk devore I bought on a day out into a top to wear at the Min and poured some 24th scale bathroom sets then I will paint.  I have piles of pics and puddles of paint, what I lack is time.  Have another arty photo; it could get miniaturised any day now, or not, as the case may be.

P1010131

How interesting to notice at close quarters, that under all the tarmac road surface there is wood.  That’s what you can see, wooden planks sealed with strips of

silver strip sealing, apparently.  Looks high tech but it’s wood.  perhaps from high tech trees, grown in specially reinforced gales, or something.  I always wanted to chuck myself off bridges, or crawl across on my hands and knees with my eyes shut, which may not have been such a stupid impulse, with hindsight, now you know that they are made of high tensile steel and carbon fibre and engineering skill and knowledge and wood?

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Knickerbocker Glory with reboiled cabbage.

Sunday 18 Jul 2010 by admin | No Comments
Filed under: Knickerbocker Glory Tags: , ,

Have you been waiting with bated breath for your next visit to the Da Da DAAA!  Village of the Dim?  Gosh I hope so.  Once more we direct our feet to the cradle whence sprang the stupidest detective’s assistant ever.  As a breed the fictional detective’s sidekick has to be possessed of a fine degree of ignorance so that the detective can explain to him, for the benefit of the audience, just what exactly is going on. As a result we’re never looking for any variety of exam-level thinking in the assistant. Watsup, however, abuses the privilege to such an extent we would suspect he was having a laugh, unless it is clear that both of his brain cells are working at full capacity all the time.  And it is and they are.  You could probably use his head as a radiator.

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

                              The Village of the Dim.
                                  The holey roads.

Rural music, birdsong.

Ethereal voice           And in the warm afternoon sunshine, mist around
                      bedtime and a 5% chance of rain tomorrow, you join
                      us once again in the

FX Da Da Da!

Ethereal voice         Village of the Dim, which is not looking its best. As  
                  far as the eye can see, mysterious holes have appeared 
                  in roads, pavements and garden paths.  However, help 
                  is at hand in the form of the great detective, Millennium 
                  Domes and his idiot sidekick, Watsup, Doctor of  
                  Density and former village resident.

Domes                     Enlighten me, Watsup,

Watsup  (grunts and groans)

Domes                     Put me down! Put me down! Thank you.  I thought
                    we had agreed that you would listen to the rest of the
                    sentence before taking action?

Watsup                    Sorry, Domes, I thought you’d finished and I just sort
                    of got carried away.

Domes                     And so, very nearly, did I.  Now, about the holes in the
                    roads.  How did you receive intelligence of them?

Watsup                    From my Uncle.

Domes                      Who is?

Watsup                     My Uncle.  Married to my Aunt.

Domes                       Quite, Watsup, quite.  I was alluding to his position in
                     the village.

Watsup                     Oh, all over the place.  Hardly stays still at all, on
                     account of him being the Warden, you see.

Domes                       Warden of what, Watsup?

Watsup                      Park and gardens, traffic, old person’s home, highway
                      and byway, dog.

Domes                        How busy he must be, Watsup.

Watsup                      Well it’s not a big village, Domes, so having these 
                      jobs allows my Uncle to practise his great skill for the
                      benefit of the community.

Domes                        Which is?

Watsup                       All the people who live in the village, Domes.  All
                      of them.  The lot.  I’m surprised you don’t
                      know that.               

Domes                         Quite, and his skill is?

Watsup                        Walking, Domes.  No doubt of it, he’s the walker of
                       the family.  Steady on his feet, too and on a good
                       day he can hold a conversation while remaining
                       ambulant.  Naturally the family and, indeed, the
                       villagers, hold him in high esteem.  So it was he who
                       alerted me to the holes all over the village, being in
                       a good position to spot them, because of his job.
                       May I sit down?

Domes                         Indeed you may, poor fellow, that was a long speech.
                       While you sit on this wall I will question the honest
                       road sweeper here.

Watsup                        Is it worth it, Domes?  I fear he may not be very
                       bright.

Domes                          Possibly not but he is just the man to have noticed
                       when the holes first began to appear.  Excuse me, 
                       honest road sweeper.

Sweeper                       Squotty diddle dinglflap.  You can go by, yes.

Domes                         Can you tell me when these holes first began to 
                       appear?

Sweeper                       Holes?

Domes                          There are holes all over the road. You are, in fact, 
                       standing in one of them.  How long have they been 
                       there?

Sweeper                        Six inches.

Domes                           Let me put this another way.  Were these holes here
                        yesterday?

Sweeper                        Little yellow jumper.

Watsup                          I fear we are not going to get much sense out of him
                        Domes.

Sweeper                         Thank you for the boomerang.

Domes                            Indeed not, Watsup.  We need to question some
                        more sensible people.  Is there a location nearby
                        where many villagers congregate?

Sweeper                         Fol de riddle, look at the moo cows.

Watsup                          We could try the teashop.

Sweeper                         Oh who will buy     my big green bogey?

Domes                             If you are up to running, we may be able to
                         lose the road sweeper, Watsup.

Watsup                          He does seem to have taken rather a shine to us
                        doesn’t he?

Sweeper                         Come back, Mr President, I’ll show you how my
                        brush works!

Domes                            Run Watsup, run.

Tinkly shop bell

Domes                          Well here we are in the teashop of the

FX Da Da Da!

Domes                          Village of the Dim, Watsup.  But there don’t seem to
                       be many villagers present.

Watsup                       You’re quite right Domes, there aren’t.  Which is 
                      very odd because it is tea time and this is the teashop.
                      It’s usually very busy.  Perhaps we could ask the
                      proprietor, Mrs Cakemix.

Domes                        My goodness, Watsup, what an enormous spread!

Watsup                       Oh I shouldn’t mention that, Domes, she’s very
                      sensitive about her waistline. Occupational hazard
                      you know.

Domes                        I was referring to her expansive collation upon the 
                      table, Watsup.

Watsup                      Well as long as she’s not resting it on the food,
                      Domes, I can’t see any harm in it.

Domes                         Quite, Watsup.  Could you introduce us?

Watsup                        Well, you’re Domes and I’m Watsup.     Hello.

Domes                          Could you introduce us to Mrs Cakemix?

Watsup                         Ah, I see.  Hello Mrs Cakemix, this is my friend
                       Millennium Domes, the great detective.

Mrs Cakemix             Pleased I’m sure, Mr Domes and hello young
                       Watsup.  How is life in the big city?  Are you eating
                       regular?  You can have some of this spread but not 
                       yet.  It’s for after the show.

Watsup                        My goodness, Mrs Cakemix, what a lot of food. If
                       I might say, it’s not your usual menu.

Mrs Cakemix              What an observant boy you are.  I always said you
                        would go far.  Remember when the church fell
                        down the mineshaft and you noticed it straight off?
                        Everyone was wondering what was missing and you
                        spotted the spire sticking out of the hole? You can’t
                        have been much older than twenty seven at the time
                        and sharp as a rug even then.  Pity about the verger,
                        still, never mind.

Domes                           Have you known Watsup long, Mrs Cakemix?

Mrs Cakemix              Ever since he and my Hubert were old enough to
                       play ‘Guess who has hidden the teapot down their 
                       nappy’ and that’s going back some, I can tell you.

Watsup                        This food looks most unusual, Mrs Cakemix.

Mrs Cakemix              It’s Mexicali, dear, now there’s a thing.  I went
                       on a daytrip from the

FX Da Da Da!

Mrs Cakemix              Village of the Dim to the seaside and had lunch in
                        a Mexican restaurant.  It’s all the rage, you know.
                        So I’ve adapted it a bit, Dim style, to suit local
                        tastes.  Instead of refried beans, which sounds a bit
                        indigestible, I’ve done reboiled cabbage.  I’ve done
                        cucumber sauce instead of chilli sauce and these
                        things are Tacos.  Well it’s really just pancakes, you
                        know.  Some have got gravy and crisps in them.  I 
                        had trouble keeping the gravy inside at first but I 
                        added extra flour and boiled it up until it set. So now
                        I can just slice it and it sticks the two halves of the
                        pancake together lovely.  And I’ve piped an S for
                        savoury sauce right there on the top of 
                        them so you can tell them apart from these which
                        have got a slice of custard inside and a S on the top
                        for sweet.

Watsup                          How clever!  What are these pies that appear to be
                        crawling away?

Mrs Cakemix               Oh they’re just tortoises, that’s a very Mexican
                        thing, that is.  They’re only for garnish but I shall
                        cling film the lot in a minute and that should keep
                        them still.  All I’ve got to do now is look out my 
                        gramophone record of ‘Walk in the Black Forest’
                        to give the foreign atmosphere and I’ll join you in
                        the village hall in just a minute.  Turn the sign to
                        closed on your way out, there’s a love.

Watsup                          I shall do that.  It was lovely to see you again, Mrs
                        Cakemix.

Tinkly shop bell

Domes                             Is it far to the village hall, Watsup?

Watsup                           It’s just round this corner, Domes.  My goodness
                         what a long queue of villagers.

Domes                             I wonder why they are all carrying newspaper
                         packages, Watsup?  Pass the queue and let us
                         enter the hall.

Background commotion of voices

Domes                              And here I fancy the mystery is solved, Watsup.

Watsup                             Good gracious, Domes.  Why are all the villagers 
                          producing chunks of missing path, road and 
                          pavement and putting them on these blue covered
                          tables?  How extraordinary!

Domes                               I fancy it is for the perusal of these experts,
                          Watsup.  Listen!

Expert                                No I assure you madam, this lump of tarmac has
                          no intrinsic value whatsoever.

Lady                                   But it’s from right in front of the police station and
                          I know for a fact it’s ever so old.

Expert                                I’m sorry, that is completely immaterial.

Lady                                   Sentimental value, then.  What’s that worth?

Expert                                Nothing at all.

Lady                                   Are you sure?  What are your qualifications?

Expert                                I work for a distinguished London auction house
                          and have spent ten years on this show. This 
                          tarmac is valueless, I assure you.

Lady                                    I think this is all a con!

Watsup                              Domes, I don’t understand.

Domes                                If you read that sign over there, Watsup, I
                           think all will be explained.

Watsup                               What sign?

Domes                                The big one.

Watsup                               The one which says ‘Antique Road Show’ do
                           you mean, Domes?

Domes                                  Indeed I do. I think the mystery will solve itself
                            this evening when the last villager discovers their
                            piece of antique road is valueless and replaces it
                            where they found it.  Let us wend our way 
                            through the tables to the exit.

Watsup                                  Not all the villagers have brought road, Domes.
                             Look at this, it’s old Mrs Looney consulting
                             expert Henry.

Expert Henry                          I think you may have misunderstood, Madam.
                              What you have indeed brought is a bottle of 
                              sauce and a spade but I am an expert in
                              Worcester and Spode, which are quite different
                              do you see?  They’re made of china.

Mrs Looney                             Call a spode a spode, I say.  I may have lived in
                               this village man, girl and caterpillar but I know
                               rubbish when I hear it.  A china spode would
                               be no good, would it?  First rock it hits, it’ll
                               melt.  We might be stupid here in the

FX Da Da Da!

Mrs Looney                               Village of the Dim but we’re not stupid, you
                                know.

Watsup                                        By Jove, Domes, Expert Henry has his work
                                cut out for him if he’s going to cross swords
                                with old Mrs Looney. She’s a very determined
                                woman, I bet she’ll make him buy that spade.

Domes                                         Ah look, Watsup, here comes Mrs On Won 
                                Hanger, proprietor of the

FX Da Da Da!

Domes                                          Village of the Dim Chinese Laundry and
                                 Washerama, carrying her front door step
                                 if I’m not mistaken.  Good afternoon, Mrs
                                 Hanger.

Mrs Hanger                                 Hero, isn’t this exciting?  I am hoping my
                                 step wirr make me a wearthy rady.

Domes                                           You may be lucky, Madam, but I doubt it.

Mrs Hanger                                   If unrucky, I can arways leturn to raundly.

Watsup                                           Domes, do you think I should tell my uncle 
                                  of the villager’s actions?

Domes                                             There is no need, Watsup, as I said the
                                   problem will solve itself.  Ah, there is the
                                   exit just behind Mrs Hanger and her door
                                   step.

Watsup                                             Excuse us, Mrs Hanger.  That’s quite a
                                   relief, Domes.  I really didn’t want to tell
                                   my uncle that the villagers were the road
                                   nickers.

Mrs Hanger                                    You can reeve the road of knickers on the
                                   step. I whirr wash them tomollow.

Rural music, birdsong.

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JaneLaverick.com – start Monday morning with a couple of idiots and get ahead of the rush.

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Mrs Beetroot’s book of household mismanagement 7

Thursday 15 Jul 2010 by admin | 1 Comment
Filed under: Mrs Beetroot's book of household mismanagement. Tags: , ,

It is heartening to note that after a mere six episodes, email correspondents are starting to refer to Mrs Beetroot as ‘that woman.’

One should not really laugh at such domestic tragedy.  Nevertheless……….

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                    Bed making with the maid of all work.

Maids of all work by definition are persons from the lower echelons of the working classes whose nature, intelligence and limited capabilities ensure that they are not fitted to rise above their class in any substantial way.  Of all the servants, other than itinerant footmen, it will bear fruit for the conscientious mistress of the house to be cognisant of the doings of the maid of all work.  Despite her lowbrow leanings, the maid of all work is sometimes possessed of a species of native cunning that evinces itself in an urge to avoid work where possible.  It is therefore necessary for the mistress to be certain at all times of day of the whereabouts and occupation of the maid of all work.

The later morning should commence the premier intercourse of the mistress and maid when, following breakfast in a small to medium household, the mistress is obligated to assist the maid in her duties of bed making.  As this task is the only during the day when the mistress is able, directly, to supervise the thinking and deeds of the maid, it is of the utmost importance that the occasion proceeds rigorously to invariable precedent.

The mistress and the maid should first meet in the bedroom where the maid must attire herself in bed-making uniform.  This is most necessary where the maid has previously been sweeping chimneys, cleaning cinders, grate polishing and fire laying in all the bedrooms while the family are at breakfast.  Even a maid of superior intellect, of which there are few, if any, is unable to prevent herself becoming covered in smuts that would readily transfer themselves to the bedding to such a degree that the family and guests could arise looking as if they had spent the night carousing in the company of chimney sweeps rather than peacefully asleep dreaming genteel Christian dreams.

The maid must don stout cambric shoe covers buttoned down each side with ten or more buttons so that her boots are fully covered.  Her hair and cap should be encased in a bed making mob cap, with ear covers.  The bed-making apron, with sleeves, buttons at the back, for which task it is not unforeseen for her to require the assistance of the mistress.  At this point the mistress may take the opportunity of complimenting the maid on the cleanliness of her shoes, hair, dress and under pinafore if they are indeed clean, or taking opportunity to correct her and point out flaws if they are not.  If the maid can read, the mistress may wish to make a list of the points of personal appearance in which the maid may be of need for improvement.  If the stupidity of the maid prevents her from reading, the mistress should write the list and teach it to the maid by constant repetition while the maid dons her bed-making wristlets and gloves.

Thus attired, the mistress and the maid should each take a side of the coverlet and fold it with four folds to the bottom of the bed where the maid will halve the roll and remove to to the blanket chest.  If she fails to fold it exactly, the mistress should tell her so.  It is as much part of the duty of the mistress to correct her servant as it is for the servant to obey.

In this manner all coverings and bottom sheets are removed from the bed and the mattress is turned to spread the wear and rearrange the feathers, unless for an under palliasse.  For this, the mistress should examine it visually, telling the maid of each straw that is sticking out that the maid must return to the mattress and indicating the same with a pointed finger, or a china straw-pointer, furnished with a bell, if one is available.

The mattresses should then duly be fluffed up, each according to the requirements of the occupant.  Family members and guests may leave a note upon the night stand indicating if they prefer a hollow in the mattress at the centre, a built-up portion beneath the shoulders and so on to the taste of each.  The mistress will read these instructions to the maid, ensuring that all are filled to the letter for the comfort and health of the family and their guests. The covers are then returned in order, the mistress making note of any that necessitate mending, informing the maid of each, who will then repeat the position and degree of the tears or thin patches until she has them by heart, to identify and mend each on wash day. All drapes and curtains to the bed should be spread and dusted.  This task the maid will accomplish with a goose wing duster, having mounted the bed ladders and receiving instruction from the mistress, spying out any dust from the floor.

All rugs should be taken up and the floor swept vigorously to the dictate of the mistress, the maid subsequently rubbing the boards to a fine shine.  Wax is not advised for use under a rug, as utilisation may render the rug mobile to a dangerous degree.  Here the maid should apply elbow grease sufficient to raise a warm but not deep reflectivity, the mistress should follow her progress, advising each time she can or cannot see her own shoes reflected in the floor.  If the mistress finds the frequent instruction very wearing to the voice she may prefer simply to tap the floor with her toe at every spot she finds the depth of shine to be in error.

The maid of all work having replaced the rugs to the placings supervised by the mistress from the door, raised upon the room arranging steps, they next prepare, mistress and maid, to clean the ornaments in the room.  For this task the maid should change from her bed apron and clothing into her ornament wrapper, chamois ornament mittens and serge cap.  Thus attired she may take up each ornament and dust it with a lint free cloth.  These being difficult to obtain, the maid may make them on her day off by plaiting inch wide lengths of fabric surplus from dress making and simply hand sewing with a quick faggotting stitch along the lengths.  It is only necessary to hem the ends once so as to leave no loops that could catch on the ornaments to break them.  With these prepared cloths the maid will dust each ornament to the satisfaction of the mistress, whose sharp eyes will not be lax to spot any mote of dust that the maid has missed and inform her that this is so.

This task completed, the mistress should rest in a chair while the maid, in her furniture-polishing uniform and cap, polishes the rest of the furniture, empties and scalds the slops pail, removes the entire contents of the night stand to wash, scrub and wax it, subsequently replacing the sundries either exactly as they were or to the wishes of the supervising mistress, if she has recovered her vigour by resting sufficiently to enable her to point out any deviations from the former positions of the utensils.

The bedroom completed, each window should be opened exactly one inch and a half, which the mistress may check by means of a tape measure, carried for the purpose.  The door should then be shut.  Mistress and maid proceed to the next room taking care to speed the task so that all rooms are completed within the space of two hours, the maid thereby being freed to assist the cook, in a household without a vegetable maid, with the luncheon for the family.  Speed with a bedroom is of the essence; in a ten bedroom household there will be, at most, twelve minutes per room.  Where the maid is in any way slack she will fall behind so much in  her duties that she may be obliged to finish them in her own lunch time, or, worse, find the breakfasted family returning to unaired bedrooms, which is surely the precursor to consumption and lung rot in the winter time.  To this end it may be necessary for the mistress to adopt a sufficiently sharp tone to urge the maid to complete her tasks quickly and thoroughly and leave her little doubt of whom is in charge.

I might append a note here for the inexperienced mistress, who will thus be prepared to find maids of all work, even though thoroughly supervised, to be the least grateful of all servants.  I myself was set upon by a maid of all work with a warming pan when we had scarcely reached the eighth room and had fully five minutes spare to complete the remaining four, of which fact I thoughtfully reminded her, as she dawdled along the landing with the slops cabinet, polishing barrow, broom stand and housemaid’s box. I can hardly describe the awfulness of being flown at by a creature wearing three different aprons, four caps and a fierce expression and being the possessor of alarmingly muscular forearms developed through mattress turning.  Fortuitously her double layer of boot covers took her off down the stairs, which she had just finished polishing, before the warming pan could connect with my coiffure, though the spring of my my stuffed egret was a little dented. I was obliged to get the butler to dismiss her, after he had sent for the footman to collect the cold coals that were sprinkled all down the stairway.  Should any reader of this gazette be furnished with a surplus of maids of all work, I should be obliged if they would inform me that this is so as I shall be interviewing maids upon the morrow.  The pay is modest, the housework light and the sweet-natured mistress of a kindly and amiable disposition, though the maids I fear, will be to type of their species, many somewhat less able than a monkey, sad to say, causing difficulty to even the most patient and godly supervisor.  I should add, for the benefit of inexperienced readers, that I have found praying over the maid for guidance prior to commencing work, to be much less helpful than one would surmise.

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JaneLaverick.com – silly as owt.

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Caution wet paint.

Wednesday 14 Jul 2010 by admin | No Comments
Filed under: Site information. Tags: ,

I should have known, I should jolly well have known.  For the benefit of non British readers, we have a lovely weather tradition here, whereby during the last weeks of June and the first week of July it is hot and sunny.  This is so newspapers and TV weather persons can forecast a barbeque summer and students can swot for and sit exams in paroxysms of hay fever.  Third week of July i.e. nowish, the weather breaks up just as the schools are doing the same so that children imprisoned in the wet can drive their parents crackers.

The weather traditionally returns to hot and sunny as the schools go back, second week of September.  So, until then, I shall get on with the painting.  Not the fence, because I am the person who bought fence paint last week in the hot spell and planned to slap it on there yesterday as the rain began.  What I’m going to do in the wet is miniature painting.  I promised I would during the health scare but all I did was sit around and worry.  I am pronounced normal with a heart murmur but loads of people have one of them, so I’ll carry on working out as I have for the last ten years, once I get up to speed again; right now and for the next few days or even a couple of weeks I’m going to immerse myself in paint.  Postings may be erratic, as the muse strikes.

Ah, the great British summer.  Ideal time to enjoy the great indoors!

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Wednesday update.

Tuesday 13 Jul 2010 by admin | No Comments
Filed under: Site information.

I’m having a day out or part of a day if I don’t have another migraine.  I’ll be back with the funnies on Friday.

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