by Barry Cryer
He said I could keep it. I think they are rather jolly.
11 July
Hannah told me that D. L. is working for Mr Yarrow again.
22 July
Arthur, I visited your brother George today. Sally was there with baby Peter and the girls but John was not there on account of a fire in one of Blackfield’s print houses. Clerkenwell has changed quite a bit, but George hasn’t. He tells me that he is learning to speak Italian so he can understand his neighbours. It’s been a long time since Mary died but the poor man struggles on. That niece and nephew of yours have kept his spirits up, though, and he says he is well cared for. He even gave me a prayer book to take home which he had bound himself. Those fingers of his could not take another day stitching a book I was sure of it, but there it was – such lovely work. He asked if I would like to stay and watch Jack Gillespie lose his latest fight up in Shoreditch, but I told him that I’d seen Jack Gillespie lose enough fights, thank you very much, and it was time I let someone else do it.
Martha told me that D. L. came to the door earlier, looking very sheepish and turned on his heels very quickly once he’d delivered. Wouldn’t you just know it – he comes and I’m not here.
Fighting near the Maritsani The relief of Mafeking Monday 18 June 1900
* * *
It was then 4.45 and a bewildering moment for the Brigadier, who had a great bulky convoy to protect and had it at the moment in a defenceless position. I think I would not take any reward to bear the responsibility of acting at such a moment. The shots were sounding quicker, but one could see nothing except the surrounding trees. Colonel Mahon looked coolly round. ‘We must try with the guns,’ he said, and ordered another squadron out on the right. The convoy was moving on now as broad a front as the shrubs and trees would permit; it raised a cloud of dust, which the level rays of the sun lit like a rainbow, and the bullets began to come in a hail. There was no cover; everyone was under fire; so there was nothing to do but to dismount and lead one’s horse along beside the convoy. Every now and then among the clear high ‘phit’ of the Mauser bullet would come the hideous twisting whistle of the Martini – really a horrible sound. There was something like a panic amongst the native drivers; they walked along bent almost double, taking what shelter they could; one I saw crawling along on his belly, and the sight made me laugh, although I had at heart too much sympathy with him to be really amused. In his capacity for the Morning Post Winston C
This cutting (incomplete – grr!) would seem to be from Holmes’s famous index file and has found its way into our Aladdin’s cave. As you can see, it refers to the Second Boer War (which began in 1899) and, in a giant leap to more recent times, there is a reference to a Winston at the bottom. Winston Churchill was a war correspondent and was captured during the conflict. Why had Holmes kept this cutting? We may never know. Was there a link with the young Winston Churchill? I went to work and, lo and behold, at the end of the cutting there is a ‘C’ after the word Winston. How many Winstons were there at the time? There cannot have been that many.57 Churchill didn’t hold government office until 1905 when he was appointed Under Secretary for the colonies, then President of the Board of Trade and then Home Secretary in 1911. It was during this tenure that he was present at the famous ‘Siege of Sydney Street’ and, when I ploughed on with my research into his career, I realised that it was out of the compass of this book. Ah well, that’s enough cutting remarks! Nevertheless I like to indicate these points of interest as we travel along the highways and byways of the period, whether relevant or not.58
57 Well, why don’t you find out? – Publisher
58 In that case, this irrelevance should be DELETED. – Publisher
1899
23 January
D. L. and I were able to take advantage of the first bright day of the year and walked to the Serpentine. He is very good company and seems back to his old self. He talks a lot of the future and I had to remind him that he is in his fifties and perhaps he should be thinking more of making a home for himself. There were many soldiers in the park and D. L. found himself asking them questions about the Cape. His spirits lifted when we met John Campbell, the landlord of The Crown, and his young family. D. L. lights up when he sees the Campbell boys and it’s as if he is still chasing around the factory floor when he plays with them. I left them as the sun faded as Martha is attending a dance practice this evening in preparation for the Regent’s Park Burns’ Night Supper. Much leg twisting.
14 February
D. L. received a letter from a Joseph Huntley in Canada yesterday. Well, I remember a Joseph Huntley as being one of the laziest workers in the factory some years ago. Surely they could not be the same person. D. L. says that he has just opened a sawmill in a place called Manitoba. D. L. says there is fresh air and free farms there. Joseph Huntley writes that in Manitoba there are no beggars. Free farms and no beggars? What a place Manitoba must be.
31 December
Billy hung up the new year’s bag for Wiggins and his crew this morning. Very pretty it was too and stuffed with the sweets we had been up all night making. Martha had painted lots of bright colours on it and tied it with bows and flowers. Well, we all took turns hitting it to make sure it would be good sport for the little children, and Billy got a little carried away. I keep forgetting Dr Watson still has a key, so it was a bit surprising to see him appear at the back door, beneath the bag. He received a rather nasty blow to the nose. He was rather alarmed but saw some humour in it. He asked Martha to call for a doctor before wishing us all a happy new year. Billy made us all laugh when he confessed he didn’t know what year came next. A happy new year it shall be.
More celebrities of the time. The ‘Hairy Carey’ brothers, as they were known, were a feature at the corner of Calder Street and Lynham Road for many years. They sold various items on their stall. These appear, amazingly, to be feet or, rather, an early form of insole. I conjecture that these were not a lucrative line as the benighted souls (?) who had boots could not afford the extra luxury, and those without went barefoot. The woman holding the baby looks equally sceptical. The brothers wore identical beards in homage to their father, whose beard caught fire in a freak accident in a workhouse kitchen when a beef steak virtually exploded. He survived the inferno, but for the rest of his life wore a bag over his head. Tragically, it was whilst wearing the bag that he fell down a manhole. He spent the rest of his life on crutches, but still wore the bag, acquiring the affectionate nickname of ‘Sticks Baggy’. Nevertheless, the brothers were always described as endlessly cheerful, but kept away from naked flames – even candles on a birthday cake!
1900
30 June
D. L. delivered today for the weekend. Mr Yarrow must be a very kind gentleman because I always seem to be last on the delivery list. We usually have a good natter, but no time for a chit chat today. Moaner came in the back door and asked whether Mr H. was off chasing Coptic Patriarchs again. I told him I didn’t know anything about that but I knew he wouldn’t be back for four days. Moaner was about to leave before he announced that Scotland Yard had given him some tickets for a show. D. L. joked that Scotland Yard is a show. Moaner did not laugh, but instead invited me to the Alhambra to see a Hungarian called ‘The Handcuff King’.59 He was most excited because they were going to be using his own pair of handcuffs in the show. It’s all very exciting and me, at the Alhambra! Time for a new hat.
2 July
Just back from the Alhambra. What a night it was! It was in all the papers. Although, to begin with, I was a little embarrassed that Moaner kept nudging the gentleman next to us to let him know they were his handcuffs. But I think he was most upset at the end when they didn’t return them and afterwards he spent most of the time at the stage door demanding them back. He must have another pair. It is nearly midnight as I write this and time to go to bed.
3 July
All is well and the handcuffs have returned. Mr H. came back from his trip this morning and I told him about last n
ight. When I mentioned how the Hungarian gentleman managed to wriggle from Moaner’s cuffs, Mr H. became very interested indeed. He wanted to know every single detail of the illusion and I did my best to remember them. Then I told him the gentleman’s name and he bolted from his chair, flew down the stairs and out of the front door. Moaner dropped by later in the afternoon and went straight upstairs. A little while later, Mr H. came through the front door and I said that Moaner was waiting in his room. He winked at me and took something out of his pocket. Well, if it wasn’t the handcuffs. I went to fetch Moaner as I knew he would be delighted. When we came down, Mr H. was wearing the cuffs.
‘These are yours, I believe,’ he said and, as Moaner went to get his key, Mr H. slipped them off and handed them over. You should’ve seen the look on Moaner’s face.
30 September
D. L. visited this morning. I was surprised when he told me that he was going to Canada after all. I can’t say I’m impressed. Silly man. They have wolves over there, don’t they? And it’s such a big place, I am worried he’ll never be heard of again. He jokes that I should come with him but I’ve never heard such nonsense. There are very few people on God’s earth that get my dander up, but he is one. I said that he’d left London once before and come back, so I looked forward to seeing him again in another five years. He laughed and kissed me on the forehead. We can’t be having that from a grown man. If he must go – then go! I’ll certainly miss the free offal. I can’t remember the last time somebody kissed me on the forehead.
4 October
Annie from Mrs Gilbert’s has agreed to help out in the kitchen for the time being. Thank heavens, for I am no longer a girl, as Hannah never stops reminding me. Perhaps Annie might be tempted to remain in a more permanent position. Billy would be pleased, as he suggested her in the first place. It even gave me time to sit and read every page of the Family Herald. A rare treat.
30 November
St Andrew’s Day. I read today of the death of Oscar Wilde. I don’t know much about plays and things like that as I prefer the music hall, but Billy told me that Wilde once had three plays in London at the same time. Imagine that. What I didn’t know was that they removed his name from the posters because of that trial.60 Hannah says it was the Marquess of Queensbury that killed him. I don’t remember reading about that. One of my lodgers talked about Oscar Wilde a great deal. His name was Mr Dobbes and he used to have even more visitors than Mr H. I remember much laughing going on. He came in one day wearing a ladies hat and asked me if it suited him. I had to say that it didn’t. So he gave it to me and we laughed. I think he left the country about five years ago. Not because of the hat, I hope, although I do still wear it.
One of the most interesting of all the pictures here, in my far from humble opinion. These are members of the ‘Daughters of the Revolution’, wives and widows of American soldiers who were visiting London on a European tour, sponsored by their government.61 They addressed a rally in Hyde Park, which sadly was rained off after ten minutes. Undaunted, they marched to the Houses of Parliament, where they sang their national anthem and some minstrel ditties. In the centre is Mary Alcott. Could she be related to Louisa May of the same clan and author of Little Women, I muse? We may never know. She was apparently a skilled unicyclist and once attempted to pedal across Niagara Falls on a tightrope, but the event was rained off after ten minutes. She was sometimes known as ‘unlucky Alcott – the bringer of rain’. The other two women were the formidable Brooklyn Hellcats, who, in suffragette fashion, would chain themselves to railings in a campaign to increase their widows’ pensions. Sadly, many papers of the time referred to them, rather scornfully I think, as the ‘chain gang’. They did once appear at a function at the White House uninvited. Their hats were their symbol and they would throw them in the air at meetings, which were, hopefully, not rained off after ten minutes!
59 Mrs Hudson is obviously referring to the famous escapologist Harry Houdini, who was indeed visiting London at the time. Readers may be interested to note that your humble researcher has history with this particular rascal, having penned a not inconsiderable tome that is still currently available (Harry Houdini: Man in a Sack).
60 Mrs Hudson is referring to the famous trial of 1895, in which the Marquess of Queensbury (20July 1844–31January 1900) successfully defended his reputation in a libel action. The most important thing to note in this case is that the Libel Act of 1843, commonly known as Lord Campbell’s Libel Act, enacted several important codifications of and modifications to the common law tort of libel.
61 The flags contain the correct number of stars for the States of the time. No Hawaii, I fancy!
1901
22 January
God help us – our dear Queen has died. May she rest in peace.
23 January
There has been much talk of the Queen today. Like many people, Mrs Turner was upset when the Queen went to the Isle of Wight after Albert died. In fact, she once said to me that I didn’t leave Clerkenwell when I lost Arthur but I don’t think that was quite the same thing. Some people were even talking about the Queen and John Brown, but I don’t listen to gossip, unless it’s family or friends. Mind you, there has been some talk about Mrs Anderson, from down the road, and a plumber. My dear mother used to say live and let live. Mrs B. told a joke about canoodling with a plumber but I’m not writing it down here.
13 February
BEEF TEA
1lb of lean beef, 1 quart of water and 1 spoon of salt.
I have Mr Yarrow trim the fat and bone from the beef usually and for my beef tea I choose the first cut. Slice it into small square pieces and put them into a pan. Add water and put the pan on the fire, before bringing to the boil. Mrs Turner says that you should skim the tea well before cooling but my Arthur used to say that, as in life, the most good usually comes from the scum. Put in the salt when the water boils and simmer for about an hour, then strain. I like to strain my tea through a hair sieve, but Hannah suggests you should take it off your head first to do it. When it is cool, store in the larder with a cloth on top. You’ll have to take the fat off and add salt to use it in other cooking.
I was writing down this recipe before making a nice mug of beef tea when I remembered that the late Mr Hudson and I always had beef tea before going to bed. I ought to have some of Arthur’s sayings woven into a sampler. He used to say, ‘Keep your strength up before tomorrow.’ Hannah Brayley says ‘Tomorrow is a stranger but today is a friend.’ Which is why her washing never gets done.
Once I have finished my tea, I am ready to read a book. I like Wilkie Collins – he helps me sleep. Not that I got much sleep last night, mind. After I’d blown out the candle and settled down, I heard something, a sort of creaking. ‘Oh, just the wind,’ I thought. But then, my bedroom window, which was ajar, suddenly swung open. I was terrified, I can tell you. I lit the candle and everything seemed alright, but then the door, which I’d also left ajar, opened as well. I jumped out of bed and looked through the door. Someone, or something, was on the landing. I picked up the candle and saw that the coats on the hat stand were moving. Then I heard a very faint sound, like someone laughing. I thought about waking a lodger but then I thought, pull yourself together. It’s just the wind, isn’t it? I went back to bed but I was still shaking all over. I got up this morning and happened to mention it to Mr H. His eyes lit up. He made me go through the details again and then he examined the door, the landing and the coats with his magnifying glass. Then off he goes to his study and I’m left none the wiser. A few minutes later he calls out and I go up to his room. ‘I have exorcised your ghost,’ he said. He was sitting in his favourite armchair with a blanket on his lap. He lifted it up. ‘Behold, the phantom!’ he cried and there was O’Connell, the cat. I was so relieved. Then I remembered the laughing. I’d forgotten to tell Mr H. about that. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I’m watching O’Connell now to see if he laughs again.
22 December
I was visiting Mr Yarrow toda
y to confirm our Christmas order and he told me that he had not received any news from D. L. Hannah was with me and she joked that soon I would be able to shout across the Atlantic with a new machine. Honestly, the things that woman comes out with. Then Mr Yarrow told me that it was true. A Mr Marconi had sent a message across the sea with a thing called a wireless.62 How can you do that if there’s no wire? Stick to pigeons, I say. They know what they’re doing. When Arthur and I were first married, and living in Clerkenwell, there was a pigeon loft next door to us. Mr Tapsell, who kept them, had a reputation as a miser. He was so mean that Arthur used to say that on your birthday, Tapsell would give you a warm handshake and a homing pigeon. Dear Arthur, I think of you always saying ‘Coo coo! Coo coo!’ like a pigeon every time Mr Tapsell walked past.
25 December
A very happy Christmas with my tenants. I could tell Mr H. was happy because he kept his paper crown on all day. We spent some of the afternoon playing Fetch the Monkey63 and I’ll never forget the sight of him, blindfolded with his trouser legs rolled up, trying to hop backwards through the hall. I didn’t know both he and Dr Watson knew all the words to ‘Hold Your Hand Out, Naughty Boy’.