Iron, Bluebells, and the Keymatic Washing Machine.

After months of  poring over legal contracts, dealing with bureaucrats, and various other little trials, I feel we're out of the woods for now and can get on with some normal life.  Which has included seeing the spring and early summer unfold in some real woods. It's been a real pleasure and I'm sure the bluebell season lasted longer than usual this year too.    

Mid April there were hundreds of thousands of bluebells in the ancient Abbey Wood in Southeast London.  No, make that millions, I'm sure the numbers must have reached that -  I've never seen so many!  They just went on and on.   The large and wonderful wood is hardly mentioned in most guides to London, and is actually a little known treasure even to Londoners, too.    It is in the far southeast of the city and I learned that William Morris used to walk through it to the station when he needed to catch a train to London from his home in nearby Bexleyheath (now in the care of the National Trust) 

 My pictures probably give an idea of the blueness of the flowers, but doesn't capture the effect of all the other, less obvious spring flowers that were also covering the ground. Areas of glimmering anemones, starry yellow celandines,  fragile stitchworts and deep purple violets made it look in parts like a huge embroidered carpet. 

In early May, we had a few days in the countryside, and on our first day took a modest footpath that led into a rather grand private estate.  After passing the immaculate tennis courts and vineyard, we found ourselves on a most beautiful grass-fringed stream winding through woodland and meadows .  What with the birdsong and butterflies and the sun shining through, it felt like the Garden of Eden, and there were still sheets of bluebells ! 

 We were in East Sussex, not far from London, but our location was so remote that Google couldn't direct us the house where we stayed.  When we found it, access was via a steep, winding, very narrow lane,  a bit terrifying at first, but worth it.  Below is the view from the window seat in our cottage., framing the view of an an old weatherboarded water mill where the owner of the land lives.  

 

This mill was, surprisingly, built in the 17th century to power a furnace.  The area where we stayed was near the Ashdown Forest, where for 100 years the local celebrities have been  Winnie-the-Pooh and Christopher Robin.  But the real people living in the area spent centuries smelting iron in tiny hamlets and farmsteads with names like "Hugget's Furnace" - many of the names still surviving on local maps today refer to ironworking. 

I found it very interesting, because I am a fan of the "Mantelmass Chronicles" by veteran writer Barbara Willard, which are set in Ashdown Forest too.   "Mantlemass" is a  multi -novel family saga about generations of an ironworking family from the 15th century onwards.  Here's the cover of my copy of "The Iron Lily" a pivotal book in the series, which tells how Lilias, orphaned in 1557 by the plague, is forced out of her home but eventually makes a good life as a master in a man's world.  

The books were published in the 1970s, which was just before the kind of books offered to young people started to change drastically.   Willard was born in 1909, so would have missed what we now call "YA"  fiction, which rarely aims to convey an authentic sense of living in England of the past, family continuity or being present in the natural world.  Those type of books are generally marketed for adults now. I am sure teens can find them if they want, and I hope some do.  

So re-reading "The Iron Lily" recently, I thought that some enterprising publisher might re-package these books for adults. I don't know if Netflix is into making family sagas, but these stories are too good to sit forgotten on a shelf.  I found a book review blog called Semicolon here, which has reviewed the series recently.  I wonder if you think they'd appeal to you? 

We have also been to Suffolk again since my last post, where I mentioned my friend's pond which is shaped like an eye.  (it looks crazy when you view it from above on Google).  On our more recent trip to Suffolk the sun came out occasionally so we managed to snatch this shot of the eye looking a bit less tearful.  It hadn't been quite so wet, and flooding had receded, so you can start to see the shape with the little island forming the iris in the middle and the spoil heap from the digging creating an "eyebrow". 

  Whenever it has seemed summery, we've tried to get out on our bikes. We went recently to  South Kensington to see the final days of the "Secret Life of the Home" at the Science Museum.   

It's an imaginatively displayed collection of vintage household objects, designed nearly 30 years ago by Tim Hunkin, whose offbeat interest in how machines work made his  Secret Life of Machines ITV series so watchable in the 1980s.  He brought the same quirkiness to the gallery, with entertaining films, recordings and ads to cast light upon things on display.   

My favourite objects included a fiendishly complicated 1950s burglar alarm involving a 78 rpm record automatically calling the local police station via a rotary dial phone in a voice considerably posher than King Charles' voice today.  But best of all for me was the Hoover "Keymatic" washing machine (below). 

I found the launch ad on Youtube, which explains that it is fully automatic, as though this is a great novelty.   Was it really the first fully automatic washing machine in Britain? I wonder.   

Anyway I like the Keymatic because it reminds me of the house my grandmother,  her two sisters and their friend shared in South West London. Almost nothing ever changed in that house, and I loved it.  My auntie told me the family had bought the very best when they moved in during the 1920s, so there was rarely any reason for getting anything new.  Made sense to me.   

So imagine my surprise when one day in 1963 I skipped into the scullery to find a gleaming new Hoover Keymatic installed under the wooden draining rack.    Their 1930s washing machine had given up so they'd bought the very latest and best model available to carry on the good work. Easy to use, with an intriguing beaky appearance and attractive peacock blue top, it worked like a dream and really did end the trials of washday for them.   It immediately became a well-liked member of the household, and sloshed away reliably for the rest of their lives.  I can't look at it without thinking of them.  So I liked seeing that long-ago familiar shape in the gallery. 

All the exhibits will now be housed in the museum's huge new storage facility out in Wroughton, Wiltshire.  They promise public tours but I am sad to have closed the gallery at all.  Hunkin's approach was engaging and unique, and I so hope it won't be replaced by something too earnest. 

 Last weekend we went to see another new gallery at another museum,  So glad I live in a city with lots of free museums!     This is in East London, at Bethnal Green, and it is part of the Victoria and Albert museum of applied and decorative arts.  The building used to be known as the V&A Museum of Childhood and has now been extensively refurbished and re- branded to become the  Young V&A .... supposedly ... 

   

... well I guess they forgot to tell the person who did the mosaic sign on the front wall..... 

The old Museum of Childhood was another one I'd always liked. It was very Victorian and barely changed for decades, full of huge mahogany and glass cases containing all kinds of truly gorgeous toys and curious objects. It was one of our own kids' favourite outings, too.   But - you know what ? Despite all that, we were thrilled at the new museum.  It is now an even better place to take your kids!  

 It occupies a building from the 1850s with two tall, very large aisles flanking a long central space and roofed with arches of glass and iron.  It still has lots of splendid toys, but now they play their part in stimulating childrens' imaginations, and are carefully curated to help them consider design. It's also incredibly entertaining,  

I tried the gallery on the left hand side first. It  visitors with a series of questions which can be answered with reference to different toys and images.   "Where do you want to go?"  could include anywhere, but they give you some ideas:  evening in the desert,  a wintry haunted  house,  a mad planet where the stars are made out of soup - and  Hokusai's famous "Wave" print, which was my choice of where to go. Not being tossed around on that fierce sea, but skimming somehow above it, directly headed to Mount Fuji in Japan. 

This print is the first in Hokusai's set of "36 Views of Mount Fuji". But, incredibly, despite the title, I only recently noticed that Mount Fuji was right in the middle of the picture.   Hokusai had a sense of humour, and I think he knew most people would be too busy looking at the big wave to notice the famous mountain in the distance looking rather like a white-capped wave itself.  

"Who would you like to meet?" is the next question.  I decided I'd like to meet this interesting couple (below) dating from the Middle Ages.   They are wodewoses, mythical figures or spirits of nature, who were popular figures across Europe.    They seem to be bringing mythical figures out of the woods - and  I would like to meet those too.  As you see,  the wodewoses are covered with long shaggy hair, although Mrs. Woodwose has fashionable "ripped jeans" look about her knees, and her babies will not get a mouthful of fur when they feed.  They really are a fine pair. 

And how (in answer to the next question) would I choose to travel?  

 There's only one answer to this. The Pink Fantasy Flyer was in the old museum, and I loved it then and still do!    

I cannot detail it all, but can only recommend this collection, whatever your age may be.  

Currently the special exhibition is on Japanese folk tales and manga, aiming show how manga and the films of the Ghibli studios draw heavily on Japanese folk ideas and customs, particularly the Yokai who are wildly imaginative magic creatures.  Many of the Japanese objects in the show are made with astounding skill. I loved this tiny 19th century netsuke carving, which seems to be loosely based on on the traditional story of the "Wonderful Tea Kettle. " in which a magical animal lives in a tea kettle and terrifies the priest and everyone at the temple. (I don't think the original story includes this bare footed lady).  It's beautifully done -  and yet it is barely more than an inch long. 

 

There was also an equally skilled modern artwork in which a tree has been created out of a cardboard carrier bag. 

You must peep inside and see that small things matter, says the artist

After the show, we had a cup of tea at the Gallery Cafe in Old Ford Road nearby, a place we generally go to when we're in Bethnal Green.  We like the friendly unpretentious atmosphere, and there's a garden and outside seating too.  It belongs to a charitable organisation called St. Margarets which does lots of good works locally , so you can feel that your meal is in a good cause,  as well as being nice. 

And, after a grey and overcast day, the sun actually came out in the early evening for our cycle back home!  I keep thinking as we pedalled along that it would be nice to have a bit more sun, but on the other hand,   looking at the 40+ degree temperatures in southern Europe, I'll settle for grey drizzle any day. 

Bethnal Green, A Fairy Dress and A Crying Dunce

Life's busy in Woolf Villas right now, but recently T and I made the effort and went to Bethnal Green Museum of Childhood.    It's a real bit of Victoriana, with Crystal-Palace style ironwork and a mosaic floor which you will see is in the shape of fish-scales (and originally laid by female prisoners- better than stone breaking or whatever they did in those days,). 

I've always loved this museum, but it only gradually evolved into a children's one.  When I first visited, it had some amazing dolls houses and children's outfits, but there were also many strange old knick-knacks which was very interesting but not much to do with kids.   

A few years ago it had a revamp and ever since then it's been very lively, with displays involving local children as well as the regular exhibits. The current temporary display theme is fairytale nightmares, done with the help of local schools.  I liked the wicked black-plastic-sack crow carrying off the baby here.......

Still on the scary fairy theme, the dolls house (below) is part of the permanent display,and I hadn't seen it before. It was made in 1970 for some children who wanted a magic or ghost dolls' house, with a secret room hideen in the roof. How I'd have loved that! 

And here's an interior of a more traditional Victorian dolls house -  a cosy nursery, I think, despite the shadows and high ceilings. Victorian nurseries usually had plenty of people in them, because the families were so large and the nursemaid slept there too.

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The choice of toys often makes interesting social comments. Look at the way the "Sindy" doll changed over the years. It was originally a sort of British competitor to Barbie (the first Barbie is also on display, below)

and here is Sindy, and how she changed over the years.

This was my favourite out of the stuffed toys. I think he's a fox,and to me those specs make him look like some clever but unscrupulous young intellectual plotting a smart way of wheedling his way into the hen house. 

There are far too many dolls to even mention, some of them hundreds of years old, some highly creative and modern, some just strange. I thought "Blythe"was pretty odd.  She was made for one year in 1972 - hence the trendy kaftan, I suppose. . Not only does she have an unfeasibly huge head and an world weary expression, but you could pull a cord on her back and make her eyes change colour four times. That was all she did.  Weird or what?

The collection of dolls below have a very sad backstory. They are supposed to show Queen Anne and her eighteen children, Queen Anne reigned from 1702-1714 but these dolls are really just wishful thinking, becuase they do not represent real people.  Queen Anne had at least  thirteen miscarriages or stillbirths, and her five children who survived birth, then all died before the age of 11. 

(Quick aside: In the Enchanted Palace at Kensington, which I have mentioned before, there is a display of the model army of the last surviving child, poor little William who was such a brave child who tried so hard to be what was required of him. I really shed a little tear for William. And that whole exhibition is one of the most interesting I've seen lately, so click the link for more details and consider visiting if you like art and history and are in London - but hurry, it closes on January 3)

So here are some of Queen Anne's might-have-been children.

On a more cheerful note, I was glad to see the Big Yellow Teapot, which had a well favoured place in our home. I wonder why they stopped making them, everyone loved them and most households with young children, had one.  As you see, it's a doll's house. I seem to remember its weak point was the hinge on the door, so most of the Big Yellow Teapots you spot these days are minus the door.

 And here is what I would have wanted as a child - already thinking of travelling, perhaps, but doing it in style rather than in the cattle-truck conditions of today's airlines.

There's also a super go-cart, created by an Dutch artist associated with the De Stijl movement, almost too nice to career down the  hill in.

We had a tin road layout rather like this one, although I liked looking at it rather than playing with it.

And as I like cats, I took a fancy to this beautiful child's chair

And this charming teaset, every piece different - so original. (sorry, I can only show part of it)

Puppets are not always toys. The museum displays a large 18th century puppet theatre with almost lifesized puppets (sorry, couldn't get far away enough to get a decent picture of this huge exhibit).  These Japanese puppets certainly are not playthings for kids.

There are also automata  -  here is a French "dunce" from 1860, who wipes away his tears continually and plays a sad tune because he is too stupid at school.

It was a relief to move from this sad scene to a beautiful fairy dress worn by a little girl in the 1920s.  How thrilled beyond words she must have been to prance around and show off in this lovely dress.

The museum has a good cafe, but we always go to the Gallery Cafe in an 18th century house just round the corner, which is run by a local charity called St. Margaret's House Settlement.  It's vegetarian/vegan, very cheap, very good and very popular.   Check out their website here if you live in East London because the charity runs arts and cultural events for young and old, a creative shop called The Create Place, a vintage clothes exchange, and it also does more.

 In the summer you can sit outside the cafe but it's much cosier to go inside when it gets to be November.  Since the museum is free to enter, and the cafe is so cheap and nice, this could be a very reasonably priced London outing, specially if you go by bike, as we did.