For some time now, petticoated.com has needed a proper library to store its records, and I am proud to announce that we now have one. I had heard rumours that the nineteenth century red brick factory that we rent in Grimsby had an empty cellar, and, one Saturday, when the rest of the staff were not present, Saffy and I each armed ourself with a gleaming steel torch and, feeling rather like two members of the Famous Five, we went in search of it.
There is a doorway which I had never opened in the wall of a little-used storage area, full of rusty printing machinery, and with difficulty we managed to prise the door open. Behind it was a stone stairway, leading down to another door of heavy iron. We descended on tip-toe, pushing aside cobwebs as we went, and sending spiders scuttling into the crevices in the brick walls.
The iron door opened with the rusted, and almost corporeally painful, creak of long disuse. Before us stretched a stone-flagged passage, and I felt like Howard Carter standing at the threshold of Tutenkhamen's tomb. 'Wonderful things', whispered Saffy, obviously with exactly the same thought, as he allowed his flashlight to penetrate the eldritch gloom, and play along the walls and the arched stone ceiling.
At the end of this mausoleum-like corridor we pushed ajar an open wooden door and discovered the long-abandoned basement, perfectly dry thank goodness, and ideally suited to a library - neither Saffy nor myself have any time for the offensive local libraries of New Britain, or 'Airstrip One' as my conservative old chum Sarah Fraser calls it, in ironic reference to George Orwell's '1984'.
Their clackety-clacking supermarket gates, their clinical steel, eye-level shelving, their rows and rows of modern brightly dust-jacketed rubbish (any book published before 1960 having been thrown away or sold off years before), their banks of computers for the semi-literate products of our Blairised education system to fiddle around with, and their substratum of continual chatter and noise - because any thought that public libraries should be places of quiet browsing and literary contemplation was cast aside as 'elitist' sometime in the 1970s - all these things, Saffy and I find profoundly distasteful, and frankly totalitarian.
I believe that the only sounds permissable in a genuine library, the haunt of readers, and tweedy, tobacco-smelling librarians, rather than 'information resource officers', are the occasional supressed throat-clearing of that antediluvian librarian, and the heavy, wheezy ticking of the clock on the wall. Saffy would dispense with the clock as well, and I did not argue with him.
There has been a good deal
of work involved, but the library is now ready, and Saffy, of course, is
the librarian. You can visit at the link below, but please note that absolute
silence is required. Behave as you would in a cathedral.
This month, a very, very special series begins in 'Petticoat Discipline Monthly'. Anne and Timmy, my good friends in America with whom I share a love of the romance and history of horse racing, are also collectors of Buster Brown comics, that mischievous little imp who, at the turn of the century, had the honour to be the very first newspaper comic strip character.
Buster also gave his name to a well-known brand of American children's shoes, and this is how most Americans would know of him today. The first strip presented here, 'Buster Brown Puts on Girl's Clothes', is a masterpiece, and readers are in for a real treat. Susan MacDonald
She was born a commoner, however her parents became Lord and Lady Strathmore not long after, and she spent most of her girlhood in the beautiful and haunting environs of Glamis Castle, in Scotland.
She married the Duke of York, who had to assume the responsibility of the British throne as King George VI after the abdication of his brother. He was a retiring man who found the duties of the sovereign often onerous, but he performed them well and gained incalculable and unstinting support from Elizabeth.
She was the most loved of the British royal family, and was noted for her lively wit and unaffected charm. Older readers will remember her for her exemplary support during the dark days of the London blitz.
On Sunday I received several e mails from readers around the world:
'I just learned of the
death of the Queen Mother via an English radio amateur...very sorry to
hear of your loss. I send condolences on behalf of all present here.
Suzaran M.
Tokyo, Japan
'Dear Miss MacDonald,
Jessica and the rest
of America are saddened by England's loss of the Queen Mum. The Queen Mum
was a very strong and classy lady. All of the free world will miss her.
Our condolences go out to the people of England.
Jessica
U.S.A.
'Our deepest condolences on your country's truly royal loss.
Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon Windsor epitomized the endurance of England with her statement upon hearing of the abdication and accession to unwanted duties, "Well, we must make the best of it."
She stood like a rock with her Bertie during the darkest moments of World War II. Her visits to, and consideration for, the East End reminded England that its valor is strongest when there is unity between royalty and yeomanry.
She passed on her sense of duty to her stalwart daughter, the current Queen, and lived to see the hope of the family's virtues resucitated in a new generation.
She will be missed by all, mostly by those closest to her. May God grant succor and support to those who loved her most, and especially to Elizabeth, her name-sake, who has suffered two losses of those close to her so soon in succession.
There will be many remembrances, many long recitations of deeds, and kindnesses, and favors, but the highest acolade may well be the simplest:
There was a woman.
In mutual sorrow,
Sydney
'Dear Miss Susan:
I direct your attention
to this website if you want to use a remembrance tribute on the website
after obtaining permission from Petra Jane - a transgendered person from
the United Kingdom.
I thought you might want to put it as your lead in the April issue of 'Petticoat Discipline Monthly'.
Hope you are well dear.
Hugs,
Mandee and Champagne
Dear Susan,
I've never been very good at extending sympathy though I often feel other's losses and pain very keenly.
I've always felt that the Queen Mother was one of the finest women on earth. Compassionate, courageous, kind, caring and quite obviously a mother any person would be proud to have. For all the years of her life, she served England and her family faithfully and well.
I've known a few women who I could say were truly remarkable - and that's not to say that all women are worthy of honor and respect. However, there are some truly exceptional ones. When they are gone, you realize what a profound loss their presence and joy in the world is and you look for someone to replace them, to be what they were to those who loved and respected them. And somehow you know it will be a while before that happens, if ever.
The Queen Mother was
such a person - a true credit to what Royalty really means and the finest
example of English gentility in her time. I'll miss her and pray for her
though I feel sure God already has embraced her and welcomed her home.
Sincerely,
Baby Janet
I always need petticoat discipline
letters from the past, in order to bring readers the best of petticoating
correspondence. If you can find the time to retype a letter from the past
and e-mail it to me, I will be very grateful. It is an inestimable help
to the magazine.
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