by Barry Cryer
Our celebrations were made a little less happy when O’Connell fell asleep by the fire this morning and didn’t wake up. Billy has made sure that he is reunited with Mr Disraeli by the coal shed. Peace and goodwill to them both.
62 Mr Marconi’s miraculous device was instrumental in saving the lives of several Titanic passengers in 1912. Who would’ve thought that such a noble act would eventually give birth to the iPod? In 1923, Marconi joined the Italian Fascist party and Mussolini made him President of the Royal Academy, proving that such achievements did not go unrewarded.
63 Other popular games of the time included ‘Hunt The Chestnut’, ‘You’re The Magistrate’, ‘Where’s Prince Albert?’ and ‘Squeak, Piggy, Squeak!’ This last game has a particular resonance in Philpott family history as when I was a lad (hard to believe, I know!) yours truly was invariably voted Piggy, even by our dear Mamma. It was an accolade that I wore with some pride, year after wonderful year. I would happily volunteer to do so again, if the opportunity ever arose. I wish my brother would remember that it is still a wonderful and important family occasion and that tickets from Thailand are not exactly expensive these days, after all. Merry Christmas, Roger!
1902
4 January
Went to the boxing in Whitechapel with Mrs B. We love it. She says there’s nothing she likes more than watching men hit each other. There weren’t many women there but she says we’re the cream of the cream. So let’s have some claret! Sure enough there was some blood, but that’s only natural. Josh Makepeace was fighting Bob Worthington and we thought that there’s not much peace with Josh around! It went on for quite a long time and when we left they were still at it! We had one or two at the Fox and Hounds and when we got back we had a pretend fight in the kitchen. What anyone would’ve thought if they came in, I’ve no idea.
10 January
I was reading the Daily Mail this morning and, underneath a story about Cecil B. DeMille and Constance Adams, I spied something about Mrs Pankhurst and her daughter Christabel. The paper described them as ‘suffragettes’. Although the Mail mentioned some of their more violent activities, the paper seemed more concerned with the cut of their dresses. I’m not sure what I think of women disrupting meetings, attacking policemen and all that malarkey, but I do admire them. Hannah says Mrs Pankhurst would have been better off marrying a politician and giving him what for and that would have done the trick.
20 May
Wonderful news. Dr Watson told me that Mr Holmes has been offered a knighthood. Well deserved. What will Moaner make of that?
25 May
When Mr H. came in today, I congratulated him on his knighthood and did a little curtsey. He smiled and then informed me that he had declined the honour. I happen to think he’s rather bold but can’t help thinking he might’ve taken it from the old Queen.
2 June
Moaner popped in. Mr H. was out but, whilst he waited, he offered to help me mend my larder hinges. Quite agitated he was, like a man with a mouse in his shoes. He couldn’t stand still whilst we re-hung the door and I very nearly dropped it on his big toe as he danced around. So I sat him down and asked him what the matter was. Moaner’s only just heard about Mr H. and the knighthood. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Mr H. is turning it down. Moaner did not stay long after that – muttered something about ‘His Holiness’ and left. I don’t think retirement will suit him.
6 July
To: Mrs Sarah Hudson
221b Baker Street
London, W.
England
Dear Nanny,
I hope to write you many such letters, but work here is going so well that I worry I will not be given the time. The beds are comfortable, the food is plentiful and the land is vast. Haunting but beautiful. I feared my back would not be able to take the hours of bending and sifting required finding these precious nuggets, but I think the fresh air and friends have strengthened it!
When we are able to feast on some meat (usually caribou), I think of how I would set aside the best cut for you. I never told Mr Yarrow, but that brisket you were able to serve your tenants the night before I left was meant for Mrs Turner! I thought you’d find that funny, tho’ now that I write this, I do feel a pang of regret and feel like I should send her some trinket by way of recompense.
We are being taken into the local town tonight as a reward for our hard labours. We have been told that we will meet some townsfolk and even hear some music.
I will write again when I have more time.
Ever your friend,
D. L.
21 July
Dr Watson moved his belongings out today. To Queen Anne St of all places. A great many doctors there to keep him and his new wife company, no doubt. Though you wouldn’t know it, he’d barely been gone two days when he was back here, scribbling away after Mr H.’s every move. Poor Mrs Watson.
1903
5 July
Quite the most delightful day today. I thought I would take a stroll with my new parasol. Much to my distress, however, it is missing from the cupboard. I’ve a good mind to set Mr H. on the case, but he is nowhere to be found.
9 July
There was a Chinese sailor64 poking around in the alley this morning looking at fish heads in the gutter. He was squatting there, transfixed, for many minutes. I couldn’t help going over to look myself. I asked him what he was doing and he replied, in perfect English, ‘Making a study of the gutting practices of Baker Street landladies, Mrs Hudson.’ ‘When will you be pleased to dine, Mr Holmes?’ I said. ‘Seven-thirty the day after tomorrow.’ I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his nonsense.
To: Mrs Sarah Hudson
221b Baker Street
London, W.
England
Dear Nanny,
Just a short line to let you know how thing are here in Manitoba. We are going on fairly well but of course we wish things were a bit better with the weather. It is so cold here but I would welcome some rain. I’m saying so ’cos of my crops and my cattle but on the whole I’m very happy here. You were right. There are wolves and they do danger us, but I can put your mind at rest by saying they are not after me – only our cows. The boys here are teaching me well and the town is growing so much. Well Nanny, I believe I made a little mistake in the last letter by putting in the name of Clara when mentioning my time at church. She is indeed a cousin and helping me with the farm, but she is also now my wife. I always thought St Saviours in Bow would see yours truly dressed in a Topper, but it appears that moment has been saved for St Hilda’s in Moose Jaw instead. I must go now. I hope the meat is still arriving!
Hoping to hear from you soon.
Kind remembrance to one and all at home.
From your friend,
D. L.
10 July
Since we’ve lost the doctor, I have more and more to depend on Billy to help me out with things. He’s ever so big now, is Billy. Quite a shock some days to think of that little ten-year-old quivering in D. L.’s coat. Well, he caught this ragged old man trying to steal up the stairs at lunchtime, his pockets full of rags and string. I need not have worried. It was Mr H. again and still he wants no dinner.
11 July
Mystery solved. Another fine day and I decided to venture outside to collect some ingredients for the supper. Imagine my surprise when I spied this old lady twirling about in the park with my missing parasol. I decided to follow her and see what she was up to. I was so convinced that it was Mrs Turner and was about to caution her when she turned around, took the pipe from her mouth and winked at me. I am getting too old for this.
Later on, when I went upstairs to ask for my parasol, I was met with a very unhelpful silence. He didn’t turn round and I left, assuming he was in one of his moods. Then I saw Mr H. and Billy coming towards me. I’d been looking at the dummy! So long as he doesn’t want me to wheel it from one side of the room to the other, I don’t mind. Let that be Billy’s privilege.
Well, I don’t k
now if I’m allowed to write this, but we had the Prime Minister, the Home Secretary and Lord Cantlemere with us this afternoon.
I am very proud of Annie today who was able to cook a delightful plate for them all at such very short notice. She will make a very fine cook one day and I am ever grateful to her for all that she is doing. Her friend, Charlotte Honeychurch, who used to work in the royal kitchens, often sends her letters from Windsor containing recipes. We were very grateful for this Aylesbury duck suggestion as I know it to be one of the Home Secretary’s favourites.
ROAST AYLESBURY DUCK
Mr Yarrow had dressed the ducks well and he’d hung them for two days, just as I like them. My mother used to say that cooks should wait until the flies come, but I think that a little too much. I made a stuffing of sage and onion for the ducks and Annie basted them whilst I was attempting to retrieve my parasol. When I returned, I took them to the kitchen table and sprinkled them lightly with flour before returning them to the fire. Once the steam had risen, after about half an hour, I took them to Mr H.’s rooms, with lots of gravy poured around the side of the plate. I made some Cumberland sauce for it, as I know how much the doctor likes it. Every cook should know this good sauce. Boil down strips of well-cut orange and lemon peel in one pan, and redcurrant jelly and port in another. Mix well mustard and ginger with lemon juice, orange juice, the port, redcurrant and the strips of lemon and orange. Mrs Beeton recommends green peas with the duck but Charlotte suggests that we use beets. Well I never. There were such compliments. Even from Lord Cantlemere. I had heard that he was a bit stern, but he made a special point of commending Annie on her cooking. Mr H. doesn’t like him at all. I cannot understand why.
12 July
Billy tells me that he and Annie plan to marry. I am so happy for them and I already have a wedding gift in mind. I must do my best to keep it a secret until that day.
Billy also told me that Lord Cantlemere had something to do with the theft of that jewel. What an unspeakable prig!
9 October
Mr H. received some news today that caused him much distress. Billy took him a note and when he read it, his face fell. There were then strict instructions not to disturb him for the rest of the day. This is not the first time he has demanded this, but somehow today seemed different. Billy told me that the note had the name of Adler on it. I told him off for reading a tenant’s correspondence but then remembered that it must be to do with that opera singer who died last week in New York. She visited here some twenty years ago and Mr H. still mentions her from time to time. I think there must be more to this than I would care to ask him. Perhaps the doctor can help.
24 November
Mr H. gave me his notice today. Very sad, I was, especially when Martha reminded me it’d been twenty-two years since he and the doctor first moved in. Not without their moments I will say and there are things I won’t miss – bullet holes for one thing. Where am I going to find someone who’ll pay me such a handsome rent? Mr H. assures me that won’t be a problem. If I didn’t know any better, and I rarely do with him, I’d think he was up to something again. I asked him if he was planning to go gallivanting off to Switzerland or up a mountain and leave me half in a tizzy over his wellbeing. But no. He’s off to Sussex where he’s bought a farm. You can never tell with him. Mr H. the farmer? He told me that he was going to watch bees. I told him he could watch bees here in London. Why did he need to go all the way to Sussex to watch bees? Still, he’s always known his own mind, that one, and there’s no sense in arguing as he’ll bark something stern at you and dash off to his rooms.
18 December
Billy told me today about two brothers in America called Orville and Wilbur who flew in a machine at a place called Kitty Hawk. Billy says the machine was called ‘heavier than air’, so it’s hard to believe they flew. It’s difficult enough getting a piano off the ground and I can’t imagine something that big. I can’t keep up with everything these days. Nothing in America surprises me. I wonder if D. L. has heard about it?
20 December
That’s it. He’s gone. And with nothing resembling a farewell. No sign of a note or any such thing. Just some men who came to take his belongings away – a few boxes and a portmanteau.
21 December
Very surprised when Wiggins knocked on my door first thing this morning with a package. Happy to see the boy is now quite the man. You’ll never guess what was inside. A jar of Sussex honey, only there was no honey in it! Inside, Mr H. had left me two years’ worth of rent, the key to his desk and an invitation to visit him. He always liked the dramatic. A trip to the seaside is most welcome and I’m sure there’ll be honey there. I like honey.
23 December
After carol singing at the Brayleys, Hannah introduced me to a gentleman in a bright green suit from Enmore Park who was visiting her. Hannah jokes that he was Father Christmas taking a much needed rest. I think he is related to her in some way but I am not sure how. Quite a gruff fellow, but he asked me about my rooms and, for some reason, I told him that we had nothing available. Hannah quickly reminded me about my first floor. I suppose I have become so used to Mr H. being at 221b, I had all but forgotten.
These children appear to have been playing ‘Maypole Lamp’,65 a popular street game of the time. However, it was not popular with parents due to the instability of gas lamps, which caused several accidents (see below). One of the children would wield what was known as a ‘wiggle stick’ with which children would poke passers-by and should the person react with violence, the other children would then have to retreat to the nearest lamppost. This caused mayhem on the streets of London. The graffiti, on the doors behind, is indecipherable but may refer to some contemporary political event (or similar). It is interesting to note that the boys by the doors are all wearing caps thought to prevent cholera. The woman positioned at the back on the left, presumably the mother of one or more of the children in front of her, is seen in another photo of the time holding the ‘firm’ rope, a cautionary measure, as a gas lamp once fell down in Southwark, killing a cat and causing a horse to stampede, overturning a hansom cab in the process.
I’ve been unable to ascertain the exact street depicted but think it may well be in Pimlico.
64 London’s first Chinatown was established in Limehouse in the 1890s when Chinese sailors were stranded by the Blue Funnel Line. The BFL offered them no return ticket to China. They settled around Limehouse Causeway, hence the names Canton Street and Pekin Street. One wonders whether Kensal Rise was once Kensal Rice. Perhaps Basingstoke may one day become Beijingstoke! Little joke there, readers, allow me that.
65 ‘Maypole Lamp’ (the song) was sung on occasion by Bella Lomax and gave rise to a dance called ‘The Maypole Polka’, which had a brief vogue.
IV
Life after Holmes 1904–11
1904
6 January
Hannah’s friend, who I now know is a professor, has finally moved in. Such a funny beard. He’s rather a large man and I must say that he has quite a large head. If it weren’t for his clothes, I would say that Bruin the bear had become my new lodger! Certainly the bellowing, roaring and rumbling make it feel like there is a wild animal upstairs. Certainly if O’Connell were still here he’d have something to say! Billy is a little unsure of him, but then I think that is because he could fit Billy in his top hat. If the professor is half as interesting as the last tenants, I will be delighted. I never thought I would write such a thing. Mr H. and the doctor will certainly be difficult to follow, but I have a feeling that our new lodger will offer some interesting stories as well. He informs me that although he intends to make this his home, he will likely spend most of the year in South America. So long as his rent is here, he can go wherever he likes.
12 June
I finally went down to see Mr Holmes in Sussex. I’ve been postponing it, as I didn’t know what to expect and I thought I might be upset. How wrong I was. It was a lovely sunny day and I took a pony and trap from the st
ation. One curious thing, though. I found it strange that the driver didn’t know who Mr Holmes was. I thought everyone did. When I got to the villa, I saw him wearing his beekeeper’s hat in the middle of some hives. I called out his name and he turned round. It was so good to see him again. He took the hat off, came over and shook my hand. We went inside and there was Martha looking very contented. She handed me a pair of fancy mittens that she had knitted for me and I have to say I was very touched. She said that she’d always thought my gloves were not warm enough for London in winter and she is right. Such a lovely gift. I have missed her. Mr H. then said that he would make us tea for a change, not the other way round. If it hadn’t been for the sunshine and all the lovely trees around us, I might have thought we were back in Baker Street. I’d never seen Mr H. like that before. He was so calm and he smiled often. He also asked after Billy and wanted to be told about life at 221b. I told him about the professor and he seemed to know rather a lot about him, saying that I am very lucky to have such a distinguished scientist under my roof. What he doesn’t know about the evolution of the vertebrae is not worth knowing, Mr H. told me. I thought of complimenting Mr H. on his own scientific achievements but thought he’d had enough compliments for one day. Then I noticed that he hadn’t mentioned Dr Watson, but when I did – well, he talked and talked, making me think that although he’d found a new life he still missed the old one. As I was leaving, he told me about a dance that he’d noticed bees do to tell each other where the good flowers are. And do you know? He did it for me as I waved goodbye to them both. I chuckled all the way to the station. I got home with a warm feeling and a little sadness. I’m happy for him now but the hurly burly of his time here is missing. Water under the bridge, as Hannah says, but I still like to stand on that bridge from time to time. And I have two jars of honey.