by Barry Cryer
But only when we find the chocolate thumbprints on the missing pages can we say for certain that this theory is conclusive. In the meantime, I think we’ve all had some sport and I’m just delighted to have been your captain. The whistle blows! Time for the second half…
44 Enough of the sales pitch! – Publisher
45 Really? – Publisher
III
The landlady returns 1894–1903
1894
1 January
I woke up today in a cheery mood. I do not know why. Well, here I am writing my diary again.
1 March
To the New Royal46 for a spot of cakes, ale and singing. Bella Lomax has returned from Europe and is a little larger than I remember. She must be twenty-two stone but is still as dainty as a sprite.47 She is with the same husband. We were glad to see her back – I suspect he was too. She was reported to have had lunch with the Prince Regent whilst in Paris and his lunches are legendary.48 Billy and I sang our hearts out during her new one – ‘Put Your Feather in my Titfer’.
New Royal Songsheet
PUT YOUR FEATHER IN MY TITFER
Music by George Langdon Words by Percy Oldfield49
Put your feather in my titfer
When me you want to woo
Put your feather in my titfer
And I’ll save a kiss for you
Put your feather in my titfer
And always I’ll be true
Put your feather in my titfer
And we’ll doodle oodle oo!
Bella kept winking at a man in the front row. He was made up about that, I can tell you, slapping his thigh and waving his topper at her. Funny thing is, we didn’t see him for the second half – overcome by overexcitement, I shouldn’t wonder. Archie Kempton and his Tumbling Pygmies finished the show in great style. On the way home, we sang Bella’s new song all the way along the length of Great Portland Street. I am looking forward to our next visit to the New Royal!
3 March
The Grand Old Man resigned today. I never knew what to make of Mr Gladstone.50 Although he was stern looking, apparently he was a man who used to ‘rescue fallen women’. As Hannah said ‘Who would fall for him?’ – made me laugh. I did feel sorry for those women though, especially with Mr Gladstone looming up out of the darkness. We even get one or two of those girls around here sometimes. One of them knocked on the door one day, asking if a Mr Nash lived here. Apparently he owed her some money. I invited her in for some tea and seed cake. Well, the stories she told me would make your hair curl and the names she came out with – well, I never did. Some of her clients are quite well known but, to look at them, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. I won’t say too much, but one of them is in Mr Watts’s Hall of Fame! Hannah said she’d heard of one of the girls going to see a doctor because she was tired out. He assured her she’d soon be on her back again. I can’t believe I write these jokes of Hannah’s down, but they make me laugh. I can’t imagine Mr Gladstone laughing much but Mr Disraeli used to make the Queen laugh, so I’ve heard. Such a wonderful man. There’s one story where the Queen was at dinner with Gladstone and she said afterwards that she thought him the cleverest man in England. When asked about Disraeli, she said that he made her feel like the cleverest woman in England. She’ll go on forever.51
1 April
I have never, ever, in my life fainted. Today was the exception. The sound of the key in the lock at lunchtime was unmistakable. I thought I’d seen a ghost at first but no, it was him. I confess that I must have made a complete fool of myself, Arthur. I cried like a baby. It is two o’clock now and he is sitting upstairs in his old armchair as if nothing has happened. The doctor is to visit this evening and I must say that I feel the light has returned to Baker Street. Billy has been working hard to open the rooms up again and have things just as our oldest tenant would have them. Mr H.’s return is a wonderful gift.
3 April
I have been living in Baker Street for nearly twenty years now but today, I couldn’t believe it, I got lost. The fog had me very confused, I will say, but how I could not get back from Cavendish Square to here, I do not know. Perhaps the excitement of the last few days have made me muddled. I found myself in a small road that led me into Manchester Street and then Blandford Street. I went down a narrow passage that I thought I recognised, and found myself at the back door of a house. I felt someone was following me and I was rather scared. The house was pitch dark and obviously empty, but I swear I heard a floorboard creak from within. I stopped for a moment to get my eyes used to the light and eventually I could see a street lamp. Surely that must be Baker Street, I thought and I was exactly right. The building was Camden House, which stands opposite my own. I rushed across the road and shut the door. The sound of Mr H.’s violin cheered me for a change. It may be April, but I think we may need fires in the morning.
4 April
Mr H. has asked me to do some funny things through the years, but this really took the biscuit. Maybe his time abroad has addled his brain. He asked me to take a look at a dummy he’d made of himself. It gave me quite a start, it was so lifelike. I asked him what he was doing with it and he told me that there was a chance someone might take a pot shot at him, which I thought was dreadful. He was going to put the dummy in the window to fool them. I wondered how they would think it was Mr H., as it wasn’t moving about. He gave me one of his rare smiles, congratulated me and asked me to kneel on the floor and move the dummy around to fool people outside. I didn’t know what to think. Me with my knees and with a good chance of a bullet to boot? I swear my legs were on the point of giving up by the end. What I do for that man. What will tomorrow’s pantomime be?
5 April
Dr Watson has moved back in. The funeral was only last month but his return to his old quarters seems to have brought him some peace.
1 June
Never a dull moment, as they say, whoever they are.52 The other day I went in to Mr H.’s rooms to lower the blinds and there was an old woman standing there, bold as brass. And none too respectable, by the look of her. I asked her who she was, what she was doing there and how she got in. She said the door was open. I told her it is always locked. Then she laughed and said that she climbed in through the window. Then she started laughing again, fit to burst. I thought about calling the police. This mad woman was in my house! Would you believe it, she then took her hair off and some teeth out of her mouth. It was Mr H.! I had to sit down, so I did. And do you know, he went to my kitchen and made me a cup of tea. He’s an odd fish. I can’t remember that ever happening before but nothing surprises me anymore.
17 October
Hannah has bought a new chaise longue and it won’t fit through her front door. When people ask her why it is in the street, she tells them that it is the fashion in Paris.
This would seem to be a promotional picture from the musical burlesque The Milkmaids,53 which had a short run at the Gaiety Theatre in 1893.
On the left is Elaline Branscombe, a promising young singer, who sadly was lost in the sinking of the Titanic in 1912. She was travelling to New York to audition for a musical there, but it was sadly not to be.
On the right is Granville Tebbs, who was also making his name at the time as evidenced by his burgeoning mutton chops. Many have speculated that there was a curse on this show, pointing to the fact that he perished in a fire at his lodgings in 1901. The show itself had a short run, perpetuating the myth of the curse, as the backers withdrew funding and were subsequently charged with fraud.
Mrs Hudson was known as an habitué of the music hall, rather than of musicals, but she may well have seen this show, although she does not refer to it in her diaries.
Tebbs was often depicted with a churn in hand, the churn featuring in the song ‘You were Maid for me, my love’, which gained brief popularity and was in fact sometimes sung by Alexandra Fortesque (the Norwood Nightingale) in her musical act. One wonders if she changed the words to ‘I’m the Maid for you, my l
ove’. Alexandra also had a sad end, when she perished in a ballooning accident in mid-Sussex.
All in all, the picture does not serve to conjure up happy thoughts. It serves as a reminder of the theatrical scene of the time.
46 The famous Music Hall at 242 High Holborn, formerly known as Weston’s. Readers will be interested to note that Weston’s was next door to Gilligan & Sons, at the time London’s most fashionable undertakers. Clients included Lord Lonsdale.
47 The mind boggles.
48 The less said about them the better.
49 ‘Put Your Feather in my Titfer’ appears to be the only collaboration between these two men. George Langdon went on to become something of a well-regarded classical composer in his own right, penning, among others ‘The Croydon Song Cycle’ and ‘The Margate Fugues’. Percy Oldfield, on the other hand, met with a rather sad end. Details are sketchy, but it appears that ‘Put Your Feather in my Titfer’ was his high point. Not long afterwards, following a bout of malarial fever, he apparently jumped off London Bridge. Happily, the Titfer song remains as his legacy. Other songs noted by Billy, and found in among the diaries: ‘Johnny gave me his ha’penny / So I gave him a bun’; ‘Her name was Penny Farthing / So she took him for a ride’; ‘When the boys come back from Durban / I’ll wave the Union Jack’; ‘I’m your sugar, and you’re my sweet.’
50 William Ewart Gladstone was, indeed, known as the Grand Old Man of British politics, which was often shortened to G. O. M. Benjamin Disraeli, upon hearing this acronym, once opined that it stood for ‘God’s Only Mistake’. There was no love lost there, one can assume.
51 Au contraire! In fact she died in 1901.
52 I think you’ll find it was Jerome K. Jerome in ‘Three Men in a Boat’. A great favourite of mine.
53 A real horse appeared on the stage pulling a milk dray.
1895
23 April
Mr H. returned from the country today with a cut lip and a lump upon his forehead. At first I was worried that someone had assaulted him but I found him in good spirits, even laughing when he told me what happened. In the course of his investigation, he had got into a fight in a pub down there after he had endured a string of abuse from a Mr Woodley, who followed this up with a vicious backhander that Mr H. had failed to spot.
I never realised that he is something of a boxer. He never realised that I was something of a boxing fan. When I told him that backhanders are a common tactic of country fighters and the most obvious response is a straight left, he was genuinely taken aback. It is a rare thing to see Mr H. so surprised, but he then admitted he did throw a left. Apparently, Mr Woodley went home in a cart. Wait until I inform Hannah of this. Maybe we will even see Mr H. boxing at Whitechapel one day.
2 May
Moaner finished his chat with Mr H. this evening and came into the kitchen to return my matches. He then produced a packet that he put on the table and asked me to guess what kitchen item it might be. I looked at it and thought that because it was smaller than a wine bottle and a little bigger than an egg cup, it must be a sugar shaker. He looked rather disappointed as he opened the packet to reveal the very thing. He then told me that this was a gift, courtesy of The Yard, for the shaker of mine that he had broken when he visited last week. I was quite touched, I can tell you, and I wasn’t going to ask how he came by it, until he told me. Apparently it was reclaimed from the scene of the murder of an opium dealer, where it had been used to hold some poison. He assured me it had been thoroughly cleaned and, even though I believed him, I have put it in the cupboard drawer I reserve for mouse bait.
1896
4 November
A package arrived this morning and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mr H. so cheerful. When I asked him why he was so happy, do you know what he said as he ran up the stairs? ‘It’s all because of a landlady and a bottle of poison!’ I spent the rest of the morning thinking that he was talking about me and the sugar shaker.
It was only when I spoke to Dr Watson this afternoon that I found out he wasn’t. The other week, Mr H. had a landlady called Mrs Merrilow come over to see him from south Brixton.54 I confess I’d never heard of her, though she seemed nice enough. She’d told Mr Holmes and Dr Watson about that awful business with the Ronder family and that lion in Berkshire. As usual, Mr H. solved the case. The doctor told me that the bottle of poison was a gift from Mrs Ronder to let Mr H. know that she was not going to take her own life. The poor woman felt so guilty for her part in her husband’s death. How awful, but how proud I am of my lodger. Dr Watson says that even he is surprised by Mr H. sometimes.
54 Dr Watson is referring to a district called Brixton that sits in the London borough of Lambeth. The earliest settlement here was shaped by two Roman roads, Clapham Road (the current A3) and Brixton Road (now better known, especially in my house, as the A23), and the gateway to God’s Own Town that is Crawley. In the eleventh century it was known as Brixistane, which over the years became shortened to Brixton (naturally). It underwent a huge change in the 1880s and 1890s, as trams and railways connected the town with London. In fact, it is interesting to note that 1880 brought the name Electric Avenue to Brixton. It was so named after it became the first street to be lit by electricity. Permit me a personal note – as the popular musical artiste Eddy Grant sang in the 1980s, ‘I’m gonna rock down to Electric Avenue’ (I have only recently embraced the lilting ethnic rhythms of reggae).
1897
23 June
Yesterday was our beloved Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. I left Billy in charge of the house and strolled with Hannah to Constitution Hill. Billy didn’t mind too much as Annie was visiting. I don’t think we’ll ever see the like of this Jubilee again. I certainly hope not as it took forever and a day to get anywhere. When Her Majesty passed by, the cheering was quite deafening, and I think everyone was having a lovely time. I walked home with Mrs B. and we stopped to toast Her Majesty’s health. There was free ale and tobacco thanks to Mr Lipton, and the Red Lion was open until two o’clock in the morning. I didn’t think Hannah would be able to help me in the parlour today! When I returned home, I noticed that Mr Holmes has remained in his room the entire day. When I took him some coffee, I asked him why he had not been on the streets celebrating with everyone else and all he said was, ‘Lest we forget, Mrs Hudson, lest we forget.’ That is something I’ve been thinking about all day.
17 September
D. L. has returned but Mr Yarrow said he won’t be coming back to work. I suppose all the letters in Somerset have been delivered. For some reason I decided to increase my order with Mr Yarrow and included some pork chops for myself. As a treat.
PORK CHOPS
Fry the chops and leave in a dish by the fire. Lightly cook some onions in the still hot frying pan and then set aside with the chops. Add some flour and then some water to the pan to make a sauce.
20 September
I thought that I spied D. L. in Covent Garden today but I was much mistaken. There was a gentleman hunched over a barrow trying to lift some parsnips into a crate and for some reason his shoulders looked just like D. L.’s and the jacket, too. I thought ‘that’s even his tweed if I’m not mistaken’. Well, I was mistaken. Can’t be helped. I did buy some lovely lilies for the hallway though, but I’ve had to move them to the parlour as Billy keeps sneezing. I saw one of those electric cabs55 in Seven Dials on my way back home. It nearly ran over a horse. They’re a terrible thing, the speeds they go at. It was dreadful news about that poor cabbie who crashed one in Bond Street last week.56
55 The first London horseless carriage taxi was introduced by a man called Walter C. Bersey, who was General Manager of the London Electric Cab Company, situated in Juxon Street, Lambeth, on 19 August 1897. They were known as ‘hummingbirds’ by the public. After a spate of accidents, police stopped licensing this type of electric cab in 1900. Who would’ve thought that electric cars would be so ‘current’ today? Not I!
56 Driver George Smith was only fined £1! A sadly familiar
trend that still persists today.
1898
10 July
I found this note on Mr Holmes’s armchair when I went up to change the linen.