by Flo Wadlow
I would order all the things that I wanted from the trades-people, who came from Aylsham. There was Ward & George’s the grocers, in the market place. The grocer would come down and take the order. Mr Partridge, the butcher, would also come here to the kitchen and take the order. Mr Balls was the fishmonger. You could ring them up or get the secretary to ring them up. Somebody would be down with a little van, if we needed quite a lot, if it was going to be a big party, or a boy on a bike with a big basket to deliver it. There was never any hesitation about that, and like the greengrocers, Ewings, who we had the oranges from – if you wanted an extra crate of oranges, and he hadn’t got them in the shop, he’d get them somewhere, and bring them. Milk and cream, and some butter, came from Brick Kiln Farm, a Mrs Matthewson – her husband used to farm there. They were lovely people. We loved visiting them if we ran short of milk any time. We would go, just for the pleasure of going and talking to them.
Flo remembers her accommodation well. She had a bedroom with a view.
There are two turrets at the ends, and my bedroom was the next room to the left-hand turret as you face the house. I had a doorway and I could walk from my bedroom into the turret. There was a lovely view but the window was quite high up – you had to get right near the window. There was a kind of a little balcony outside it, but I never did go out of the window. I had a bed, a little table at the side and a chair, but my wardrobe was through in the turret itself. There was only just my wardrobe in the tower.
There was a sitting room when we had an hour or two off. We had a wireless in here and I had my sewing machine. I used to do some sewing sometimes, or have my knitting. You could look out onto the park. We really had a lovely outlook.
I remember going up to the library once when I worked here ’cause they were going to take all the books out and dust them all. And I volunteered to help, because I wanted to go and have a look. I wanted to see what the library was like.
Flo never saw or heard the ghost, but others apparently did!
I’m too ‘matter of fact’ a person. I wouldn’t see a ghost if there was one. But somebody saw a ghost. One weekend we had two waiters who came from London and they slept in a bedroom right at the furthest end near another turret, and they went home next day because they were too frightened to sleep in there another night. We all went up there to see if we could see anything or hear anything, but we never did.
Lady Nancy Astor, a friend of Lord Lothian, perhaps thought on one occasion that there were ghostly footsteps treading the floor above her ceiling:
The scullery maid used to bring me a cup of tea every morning before I got up. I’d really got to the top of the ladder then! Lady Astor once said to the butler, ‘Is the cook a very big person?’ And he said ‘No, not really.’ And she said, ‘Well I hear her footsteps going round the room every morning.’ My room was on the floor above hers and that was the scullery maid bringing me my cup of tea.
Lord Lothian did not live at Blickling all the time. He had an apartment in London. Two of his greatest friends were Lord and Lady Astor. She used to bring her lady’s maid, and he brought his chauffeur and valet. The thing I always remember about the valet was when he used to make his Lordship a pot of tea first thing in the morning, he would always warm the cups. I used to think to myself, by the time you get to the bedroom they will be cold again. Lady Astor came quite regularly. Lord Lothian had quite a lot of American friends who used to come, and Lady Astor was one. She was the first lady in Parliament.
I think I only saw Lord Lothian about twice, and I was there over three years. There wasn’t a lot of contact. I think he was a nice sort of gentleman but they weren’t brought up to be friendly with the staff, were they? The butler, for example, might have got through to him. He would have had more to talk to him about.
I remember the butler came down once and said to me, ‘His Lordship was talking about you at lunch.’ ‘Good gracious!’ He’d had the rector to lunch. As a girl I’d always been brought up a Methodist. At Woodhall, Hilgay, we were allowed to go to church on a Sunday evening. At Hatfield, as I’ve said, we would go to the chapel there, and the rector would come in for the prayers. I got used to the liturgy of the church and I rather liked it. You knew where you were. When I went to Blickling I thought I would like to be confirmed. So I asked the rector and I went to confirmation classes. I think the kitchen maid came with me as well. The rector was thrilled to bits. He was telling his Lordship all about it – and ‘what an intelligent young lady I was’!
I would have liked to have heard them talking sometimes – what they had to say. It would have been nice to be a fly on the wall.
I thoroughly enjoyed Blickling, once I got into it. Working there you never quite knew how many people to expect. His Lordship was in London most of the week, but weekends he came down here. In most establishments you would get into a routine so that you more or less knew what you were going to do each day. It was never like that with his Lordship. You never quite knew what was going to happen. Sometimes his Lordship might come down on his own, but that was very rare indeed. Another time he might bring two or three friends, or somebody from Parliament that he wanted to discuss world affairs with. I know Parliamentary people did like coming because things were building up on the Continent weren’t they, towards a war.
1936 – that was the year of the abdication crisis. The old King had died and King Edward wanted to marry Wallis Simpson. Stanley Baldwin was the Prime Minister at the time, and of course he couldn’t go out of the country, so the Marquess, being a very hospitable gentleman, invited him to stay at Blickling Hall for his holiday. So the Prime Minister came with his secretaries and chauffeur and detectives. And Mrs Baldwin came as well. I think they were only there about three weeks.
Before they went home, the butler had to take me through to the drawing room because Mrs Baldwin wanted to thank me for the nice meals. She was very appreciative and I remember she gave me a pound – and another pound to share between the kitchen maid and the scullery maid. Farmworkers only got about twenty-five shillings a week so a pound was quite a lot of money. My husband always used to say ‘you ought to have framed that!’ When I first came to Blickling I think I had about fifty pounds a year, the next year that was raised up to fifty-five pounds and the next year to sixty pounds. Having all my keep, I was quite well off really.
One weekend there was a party of Americans who were going to sail on the Queen Mary, and hadn’t for some reason or other. I can’t remember if they had a strike on the ship or if there was something the matter with the engines, but the ship was delayed and they couldn’t sail just when they expected. So ’course his Lordship invited them to come to stay at Blickling for the weekend. I thought that was most extraordinary – to come all the way from Southampton to Blickling. But two or three hundred miles is nothing to Americans. So along they came, and we had to provide for them – all in a hurry. But you could always ring up for extra provisions. I think on that occasion Miss O’Sullivan had to ring up the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker! But we managed it and it all went off quite all right. I can’t remember many catastrophes we had, not in the cooking line.
It was a good job I had gone to the classes in Norwich because one day, just after lunch, the butler came down – you can tell how removed the family are from real work – and he said, could they have a birthday cake for tea, ’cause it was somebody’s birthday!’ Just like that – wave a wand. Fortunately the kitchen maid said she’d made a fruit cake for the staff that day, so I commandeered that and used it. How I’d got the icing sugar in the place, I can’t think. Anyway, I know I iced it and I sent it in. It was a good job I’d learnt a bit about doing these kinds of things. You never knew what to expect with his Lordship. After that I used to keep a cake ready, just in case!
I remember once we had a big party. It was some folk-dance celebration and they had big marquees on the grass. They had come to do this folk dancing – you know: one-two-three – four-five-six – seven-eight-ni
ne – turn the circle. It was lovely to watch. His Lordship thought it would be nice if we provided the tea, so we did tea for about five hundred people, from all over the county. The housemaid never did get over that. She said, ‘Some cooks would have nearly torn their hair out – but it never made any difference to you. You just got on with it and made the cakes.’ The kitchen maid made cakes, and I made cakes of all kinds. I thought to myself, ‘I made a ginger cake when I went to the Tech, I’ll make a ginger sponge now.’ Of course it was made with plain flour and bicarbonate of soda. The recipe said one spoonful, but being a very generous soul I put in a bit extra. That will raise up better! But you have to be very careful with bicarb, you see. It looked lovely in the oven and of course it ‘ris’ up ever so well, but when I got it out of the oven it sunk all in the middle. Oh dear, I thought. Well I’d better make another one and see how it goes. So I added a bit of extra bicarbonate and the same thing happened again. I thought I can’t waste it. I’m a bit like my mum – she was a very economical person. The outside of the cake was all right. It was the middle that was stodgy. So I cut the outside into little squares and put them on a plate and sent that in. I got rid of the middle in the pig bucket.
The next day was one of the rare occasions I saw his Lordship. He came down to the kitchen and thanked me very much indeed for the wonderful tea that I’d provided. He particularly liked the gingerbread and would I send some up to the drawing room for his tea! We had enough food for the five hundred and I think nearly everybody in the village had a little bag of cakes afterwards. We had masses of cakes. My catering wasn’t that good. I had enough for everyone – but I’d overdone it.
To an outsider the preparation of food for large numbers, even ‘sixteen for lunch’ would throw most people into a panic – particularly in judging how much food to use. Was there any ‘table of quantities’? How was it done?
With meat, for the ladies it would be about two ounces and four to six ounces for the men. If they were having fish before the meat and they were having both courses, they wouldn’t want such a big helping. Experience helped you, I think. I had never seen a cookery book until I went to Blickling and I’d never seen the cooks use one. They’d always been taught, I suppose, how to make these things, and they knew it all in their head. But you see, not doing cooking for the dining room, or teas for the drawing room, I found it harder.
You could always use things up. If you had too much meat sent in, you could always make a curry, or something like that, for the servants’ supper, or make a cottage pie with it.
The Women’s Institute was always a great attraction to Flo, and here she is seen (seated far right) at the start of an Aylsham WI outing.
As always Flo took advantage of any opportunity to socialise. The WI also provided interesting activities to promote fitness.
One meeting we had a lady come from ‘The League of Health and Beauty’, and she gave demonstrations of all the exercises. So we thought we’d have classes – and of course I had to go to that! I made my satin blouse, and little shorts and we used to do our exercises. The kitchen maid and the scullery maid came as well. We had a whale of a time. I think we laughed more to see ourselves doing this than we did the exercises. And one day when his Lordship wasn’t here and the gardeners weren’t about, we went out in the garden and I stood on one of the statues – posed there, in my outfit! I always used to say – ‘I’ve got the health, I am going for the beauty.’ My son asked me why I left off going!
Apart from ‘Health and Beauty’ costumes they wore the usual uniform and at Blickling they had to provide this themselves:
The kitchen maid and the scullery maid would have blue print dresses with white aprons and white caps. I had a white dress with a white apron and a white cap and black shoes and stockings. The only place where I had my uniform provided was at Hatfield. Otherwise I always had to have my own uniform.
In 1939 his Lordship went to America as Ambassador. We were all going to leave, but I was still there. I was in the kitchen at Blickling. I can remember it quite clearly – I’ll never forget it. Mr Chamberlain saying we are at war with Germany, listening to the wireless and hearing him talk about that – very sad. I can’t remember exactly when we left, but I suppose it was before that Christmas. Then his Lordship let the RAF have the Hall, for their officers. Miss O’Sullivan still stayed there in her flat, but they didn’t keep any staff on at all. And of course Lord Lothian died in 1940, so he never came back to it.
Even if the war hadn’t happened we had to leave because his Lordship went to America. The head housemaid was approached to go to America. She said to me one day, if she went to America would I consider going? She knew they had a chef at the Embassy but would I go, as a kitchen maid? I didn’t really want to leave my mother – I thought the world of my mother. And I was friends with a nice auburn-haired young man – my future husband. So I didn’t go, and she didn’t go either. I’ve always said – ’cause his Lordship died of food poisoning – he should have took me, then he wouldn’t have got it!
Pageant poster. ‘Aylsham church wanted a lot of money for a new roof and they had this big pageant, at Blickling. “The Masque of Ann Boleyn” it was called – a marvellous pageant, and Queen Mary came to it.’
CHAPTER SIX
Cooking Up a Royal Treat
It goes without saying that the highlight of the three years Flo spent as cook at Blickling Hall was the visit of Queen Mary, the widow of George V. Cooking for royalty was a new experience for Flo.
I took it in my stride, I think. Aylsham Church wanted a lot of money for a new roof, or part of their roof, and they had this big pageant, at Blickling. ‘The Masque of Anne Boleyn’, it was called – a marvellous pageant, and Queen Mary came to it. It was all about Anne Boleyn, because the Boleyn family are supposed to have lived at Blickling. They couldn’t have lived in this hall because it wasn’t built until a long while after she died. Of course we had Queen Mary for lunch and tea, and with the Queen you know what an entourage they have. We knew she was coming some while beforehand, and Miss O’Sullivan had been in touch with Clarence House. You had to send a couple of menus to see what the Queen would like, and what she would eat. You couldn’t serve up something she didn’t like, or give her something that didn’t agree with her. I had to suggest the ideas for the two menus. It was either chicken or lamb, and it was chicken they asked for.
There was the Lord Lieutenant of the county, the High Sheriff and the Bishop of Norwich. You name it – all the bigwigs came, and one or two of the people who actually took part in the pageant. That’s the only time that I ever cooked for royalty. But once was enough, really!
To see the wonderful table settings, Flo and the staff were allowed a peep before the Queen arrived.
That was the only time I ever went in the dining room. The gardeners always used to do the flowers in the Hall in them days, and they had made beautiful arrangements, in red, white and blue, like posies. There was all the silver and the glass, and the table was polished up to the nines. It was really beautiful. And we were privileged to go and have a look at it – the table where Queen Mary was going to sit.
In 2004 Flo, then aged ninety-one, was asked to make a radio programme for BBC Radio 4, about her life in service, especially at Hatfield and Blickling. She returned to these houses, over sixty years since having worked in them. At Blickling she was delighted to be asked to replicate the main course she had cooked for the memorable ‘Royal’ lunch in the summer of 1938.
We had a kind of baked, stuffed egg for the first course and then we had the chicken dish – ‘Poulet Chaud et Froid’ (chicken hot and cold). I could write it down a lot better than I can say it! It was cold chicken done in a white sauce with aspic, and different salads. I think there was spaghetti in the middle of the chicken pieces on the dish – spaghetti with such things as peppers and sweetcorn. As I have said, you would usually prepare some of the food overnight and some the next day. In the morning you would prepare a lot of things for th
e night-time meals. I would have cooked the pieces of chicken the night before, and I would have made all the dish the night before, the sauce as well. If not, you wouldn’t have had a lot of time to get it really cold. I would have got the butcher to take the breasts from the ‘petits poussins’ (little chickens). I wouldn’t have to do that. The butcher would take the breasts off – but I would ask him to bring the bones as well. You’d use your bones for making stock.
You’d put your chicken in a flat dish with stock and onion, and some herbs. You’d let that cook very gently in the oven – like poached chicken. You’d just let it get cooked. You wouldn’t want it to fall to pieces – just cooked enough to eat. You’d take all those breasts of chicken out of the stock and put them on another tray and put it in the fridge to get really cold overnight.
There were peaches for the pudding that had been grown in the garden – white ones I think they were. They were just cooked, halved and served on little pieces of sponge cake with a little raspberry sauce over them. And there was a mousse went in as well, with the peaches.
Now I’m just melting the margarine – of course you can use butter if you like. In 1938 I would have used butter. You used butter for nearly everything in those days. You didn’t use margarine very much at all. I’m adding the flour to make a roux – the basis of the sauce. You have to keep stirring it. I didn’t want no lumps in it – not for Queen Mary! It’s thickening up. That was quite hot on the range. Talk about slaving over a hot stove – that weren’t the word. You used a ‘bain-marie’ a lot. [A bain-marie was once an indispensable part of large kitchens and consisted of half a dozen or more lidded pots in various sizes which stood in a shallow, wide tin of warm water. It was especially suited to making sauces and was a gentler form of heat from the range.] You’d make your sauce early and you’d have a pan filled with hot water. You stood it on the side of the stove and put your saucepans in, to keep them hot.