Betty's World on BBC!

Probably many of you have, by now, read Call the Midwife by Jennifer Worth, or seen the BBC series based on the book and two follow-ups.  Those of you who have not have the most marvelous summer treat in store!

Worth (1935-2011) wrote her memoirs in her 60s, and the first volume was published in 2002.  The BBC series began airing in early 2012.

The story is autobiographical, with most names changed to protect the privacy of people Worth hadn't kept in touch with in the 50 years since the story's setting.  And that setting?  It's Worth's foray into midwifery in the tough slums of London's East End in the 1950s and early 60s!  Yes!  This is Betty's world, replete with caps and cloaks, Cockney accents and bicycles.

The first book contains a lot less romance (the author fled a doomed love affair, in her mid-teens, to learn nursing in a West End hospital, and doesn't care to discuss it) and a whole lot more gynecological detail than a Betty novel.  There are also heartbreaking stories of poor people abandoned to horror by a system without safety nets.  Worth doesn't shrink from the sorrow and horror, but keeps a stiff upper lip and soldiers on, calling in the chiropodist to deal with toenails untrimmed for decades, befriending a young prostitute and trusting a mother of 25(!) to deal with a premature baby successfully.  There's also a skinnydipping interlude in literal Brighton, but other than constant babies, no mention of metaphorical Brighton.

I've only seen two episodes of the show, one from the middle and one toward the end, but I get the impression romance figures more largely in the film version than the printed.  And oh, the costumes!  The hairdos!  The meals!

Must dash to library and attempt to wrestle volumes two and three (Shadows of the Workhouse and Farewell to the East End) from what is most likely a long list of requestees.  So maybe the bookstore...

Enjoy!

Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo

In case you've a yearning to hear the song.

If we are honest with ourselves, I think we all have to admit that no matter the joys of brand new children or grandchildren, smokin’ hot crossword-puzzle experts at the breakfast table, new homes for furbishment in the West (Texas) Country, or placid husbands who gaze lovingly at us whilst driving with quiet competence across several counties so we can explore the Cheddar Gorge or Carlsbad Caves or whatever, that there are moments when we’d be tempted to trade it all in for life in Betty-land.  After all, Amelia Esmerelda has all that plus an account at Harrod’s and a pair of butlers, and a dog that apparently never bespoils the Aubusson.  Plus she has an array of Aubussons.

I know you’d never really give up your wonderful family and friends for a luxurious home in Menkemaborg, a Mini of your own and a future full of little boys who will grow to very big boys indeed and lovely-eyed little girls who are pretty when they smile, all tromping about the gardens in Wellington boots with Old Trott and two boys standing by to repair the damage – but.  Every now and now, you think about it.

So I’m curious:  what’s your single favorite element of the Fantasyland that is Amelia Esmerelda’s post-nuptial life?  I’m going to do another little poll thing like the Christmas-scene poll of a few months back (December, I think it was).  My candidates would of course include faithful retainers, which just seems like a blissful accoutrement of the good life.  But you may wish to nominate three course lunches, splendid teas and four course dinners that don’t lead to inappropriate weight gain, or impeccably well-behaved children (and even stepchildren, though they may be quite horrid at first), or a socking great dress allowance, the figure to pull off haute couture ballgowns, or antique epergne and tallboys that are neither dented nor odd smelling and never need polishing (by you, anyway).

Lunch at Betty's.

 

Once I have your ideas, I’ll put up that poll.  If you’d care to disclose why you most appreciate the element of Bettylife you nominate, that might make for entertaining reading.

All I Want for Christmas is A Girl to Love

So we arrived at six finalists for the 2012 Best Betty Christmas vote, as listed below.  Not to influence anyone’s thinking or independent judgment or anything, but I suspect this is the one that will get my vote. 

Damsel in Green (1970)

Caroline's Waterloo  (1980)

A Girl to Love (1982)

When Two Paths Meet  (1988)

The Mistletoe Kiss  (1997)

A Christmas Romance  (1999)

One reason I suspect this:  I know Sadie Gillard and Oliver Trentham’s names without having to look them up.  The best I can do on the others is DiG’s heroine first name and hero last name, CW’s heroine first name (hint provided), and I may never forget that ACR stars Theodosia.  Betty Keira will post Betty Debbie’s full reprise of A Girl to Love on Monday, but meanwhile I shall remind you, at more length than intended, of the wonderfulness of the Christmas celebration it shares with us.

Background: Sadie’s granny dies five weeks before Christmas, and Sadie has to sell the cottage in Chelcombe, a small village in Dorset where she’s lived for most of her 23 years.  Fortunately, Oliver buys the place and hires her to housekeep for him and his two small daughters.  In the grand British Betty tradition of upper-lip-stiffening, Sadie mourns Granny for about three paragraphs and then starts making the best of things – and one of the best things is that Christmas is coming, and someone has got to make the season festive for the girls, since their haughty, cold-hearted governess sure won’t do it, and Dad is too emotionally insecure and work-burdened to be proactive in the matter.  Beautifully, and love-inducingly, he pitches in when offered the chance.

As, for instance, when he bundles Sadie into the Aston Martin Volante (not socking great in size, but great in awesomeness) and heads to Bath for a spot of gift-getting.  Sadie buys herself some more colorful clothes as well, including a sapphire-blue dress to wear on Christmas – and for Neels aficionados, perhaps a skosh of foreshadowing...  Later, we get to peek over Sadie’s shoulder as she composes her lists of household necessities for this most consumerist of holidays, and tag along as she makes her purchases at both Mrs. Beamish’s village shop and at the “splendidly old-fashioned grocers” in Bridport, where, “they offer you a chair, you know, and call you madam.”

Coming away from Bridport, Oliver frowns, prompting Sadie to ask, “You don’t like Christmas?”  “It’s become a commercial holiday, I seem to have lost the real Christmas years ago,” he replies.  Sadie assures him, “You’ll find it again in Chelcombe.”

Or perhaps in Bridport, for after the two little girls arrive, Sadie proposes a trip to that city to see Father Christmas parade through town.  The festive air is infectious, and kinda-sorta leads to the dismissal of the vile Miss Murch.  With her gone, the happy almost-family is free to make paper chains, with Oliver “making rather a botch of it,” but at least he’s trying.  And he’s happy to take the girls and Sadie shopping, in Dorchester this time, so they can buy presents for each other, including a shocking tie for Dad and a garish headscarf for Sadie.

We also have mention of the carol service at church, the children’s party at school, carol singers arriving for mince pies, “tying up of parcels and, for the first time in years, a great many Christmas cards.”  By Christmas Eve, the cottage is festooned with holly and colored paper, and the pillowcases are ready for stuffing with gifts.

Then, yay! it’s Christmas morning and Anna and Julie crowd onto Sadie’s bed with Tom the cat to open their gifts.  Oliver joins them with the tea tray, and amongst the garish headscarves, hankies and knitted gloves, Sadie receives an “extravagant box, tied with bright cords and.. awash with tissue paper.”  It contains a real silk blouse and skirt in amber:  “Its elegance was indisputable.  Just looking at it made her feel beautiful,” and, in fact, brings her to a teardrop or two of happiness.  Plus a demand that she “kiss Daddy thank you,” which she does, chastely on his cheek.

Walking to church through the snow, carving turkey “in a masterly fashion,” and playing with new dolls and their hand-sewn outfits, before a late tea and bit of record-player listening, round out a “lovely day.”  I am quite sure we have all re-discovered the spirit of Christmas at this point.

Of course, Betty doesn’t neglect the quintessential experience of the holidays:  cleaning like crazy, making a big mess of everything, and then tidying up again.  On Boxing Day, Oliver invites an unknown number of people over for drinks and titbits, which requires Sadie arising at the crack of d. to manufacture the sausage rolls Oliver is accustomed to ordering from Fortnum’s, and staying up late to clear away the dishes and napkins after a singularly successful drinks party.

Spirit of Christmas, indeed.  Plus, they're -- spoiler alert -- engaged by New Year's, so loving and giving abounds for ever after.

Ghosts of Hallowe'en past

Oh, isn't this fun?  Betty Debbie and Betty Keira, not content with their Bettysday matchmaking service, set me up for a party on Hallowe'en.  Army Betty brews a caldron of chili (or beef stew, as Araminta Miranda would say) on that holiday each year, and she invited the Jonkheer and me over to imbibe.  I am not a chili-eater myself, but the Jonkheer informs me it was quite spicy.  Definitely not from a tin.  I can attest to the tastiness of the margaritas - no petrol-flavor at all!  We had a delicious time, and look forward to returning the invitation.

The Jonkheer 'volunteered' to take a photo, too.  (Confidential to Army Betty:  I never did explain what you kept calling him and why.)

Army left, with A Secret Infatuation; van den Betsy right, with Damsel in Green.

And then, Army Betty followed up with this delightful note:

My British Army neighbor stopped by this morning. ("Can you break from your telecommuting for elevenses, my dear?)   She was supposed to come by on Halloween (I'd hoped you'd get to meet her), but the Colonel was "under the weather and not to be left alone".

So I asked her again about the whole tying your hair back with a piece of string bit:

Margaret:  You do recall that the term could refer to an office rubber band?
Me:  Even when she says "bootlace" or " a piece of twine" or "a handy leather thong"?
Margaret:  Well, that is a different kettle of fish entirely. 
Me:  So how does one do that?
Margaret:  You Yanks with your squeaky clean hair might have a bit of a tough run with it.   Didn't your Betty start writing in the 70's?   Even Yanks didn't wash long hair daily in the pre-blow dryer age.  I do recall you mentioning hair-washing as a rather big deal involving towels before the fire until it's dry enough to plait?
Me:  Well, yes.
Margaret:  A clear indication that hair-washing is not a daily event.  Well, then, assuming one does not have slippery squeaky-clean American hair, here's how you go about it.  Gather it all up into a ponytail and give it a bit of a twist.  Ensure about an inch of the ponytail closest to the head is twisted fairly tautly.  Take your string or cord or whatever and leave enough room at one end to tie a bow or slipknot and hold it fast under one thumb, against the twisted hair at either far edge (I find the outer edge to be easier) of the twist.  With your other hand, wind the string round the hair at least 10 times, tautly.  Then tie the two ends of the string together.  It takes practice to get it right, easiest to practice on a small hank of hair toward the front till you get the hang of it.
Me:  Is this a common practice?
Margaret:  Not anymore, one can purchase hair ties quite cheaply these days.
Me:  And by hair tie, you mean...
Margaret:  (Deep sigh)  Yes, I mean hair elastics.
Me:  So let me ask you about the Belgians.
Margaret:  A topic for another day, my dear.  Elevenses are usually a quarter hour and we've been idling for twice that at least.  Sherry is in order for such a trying conversation, I'll pay an afternoon call one day.

And with that she briskly departed.

Cheers!

What Would You Give Betty for Her Birthday?

What would one give Betty for her birthday?  I noodled on this thought a bit as I drove the socking un-great Honda Ellicott City-wards last weekend.  Betty rarely offered her heroines much in the way of imagination on gift-giving occasions.  Say it with me, everyone:  gloves, scarves, chocolates, cigars, handkerchiefs.  Brooches.  Small leather goods other than gloves.  Every now and then a small painting sneaks its way in, or a puppy, or a silver mouse tchotchke.  I confess I like my gifts to be fairly personalized, but as Betty seems to shy away from the emotionally-resonant present (that’s a double entendre), I considered:

A first edition of Jane Eyre, priced at $35,000 or €27,000 or £22,000

A more-demure-than-I-thought-commercially-available pink silk tea dress from Liberty of London.

A tweed jacket from Jaeger, in shades of pink and blue

A bottle of Harvey’s Bristol Cream Sherry, for imbibing directly or sprinkling over the trifle.

Inspired by BettyAnoninTX, a tea hamper

An antique lace hanky from Devon.

Or, I might take her jet-packing, which was the Jonkheer’s gift to me on my most recent birthday.  That’s actually one of my favorite gifts of all time.

I do like lace hankies, though -- the one above costs £175 or €220 or $282 -- and someday I shall treat myself to one of those F&M hampers.  Or maybe their rose-and-chocolate cocoa mix.

Thanks for the tip, Betty von Susie.  A Louise Green hat would indeed be a great gift; maybe this pinkish number:

Although given Betty’s preference for all things British, we might need to stick with Philip Treacey:

Betty Keira votes for an oil painting appropriate to a Devon cottage:

And Betty AnoninTX goes for pink roses (from a local Devon florist) and a kitten:

This little one is available for adoption -- you probably know that rescue cats are usually older; this one was born in May, and all its brothers have been adopted...

Betty in the Wild - Ellicott City

We need a few items to refurbish the living room, so a few weekends ago I headed off to Ellicott City, Maryland, about an hour up the highway from DC and renowned for its quaintness and antique shops.  Sadly, I got there at about 4pm on a Saturday, and it turns out the town more or less closes at 5pm.  Humph.  Tea on the Tiber, the Victorian tearoom next the Tiber River (more like a creek at this point) turned me away, as they serve their teas at noon and 3pm only, and had no more scones.  Harumph!  Who has tea before 4:00pm?

Their loss, as I found a wide variety of teas, a delicious egg salad sandwich and a beautiful though gelatinous (viz, not tasty) chocolate cake practically next door, at the Bean Hollow coffee shop.  So neener.

I brought A Winter Love Story and The Vicar’s Daughter along for inspiration, as they both include our heroine getting to furnish a charming abode with the help of a healthy checkbook (i.e., his).  Given the health of my checkbook, I probably should have made it Dearest Love or No Need to Say Goodbye.

I did get to browse around one antique shop and a good thrift store (difference between ‘antique’ and ‘used’ furniture, anyone?), and determined to return.

Ellicott City is actually a lot more beautiful than quaint:  19^th-century buildings, mostly brick and stone, hugging a narrow, winding and steep Main Street with hills or maybe small mountains drawing one’s gaze to the horizon.

Wonder of wonders, over Labor Day weekend the Jonkheer took it into his head to focus on the furniture project – and he is a man of impressive focus.  We went to four mainstream furniture stores on Saturday, to get some ideas on styles we could both bear, and prices neither of us could.  On Monday, we visited a couple of modern-furniture stores (the Jonkheer as appalled as TGB would be), a couple of cheap-stuff places, and two thrift shops.  In between, on Sunday, we hit every shop in Ellicott City.  We began by fortifying ourselves with tea.  That’s right; having learned my lesson, I made a point of showing up early at Tea on the Tiber and demanding scones.  And though those scones were lemon-coconut (coconut!  bleah!), they were delicious, as were the tomato sandwiches, the date-and-cream-cheese sandwiches, and the truly fantastic cucumber-and-melon salad in a little metal cup.

In keeping with my plan to read the finalists over the weekend, I brought along the Top Two – didn’t get much reading done, though...

TotT advertises itself as ‘Victorian,’ and the rooms are impressively stuffed with knick-knackery.  The hostesses wear fascinators (those mini-hats that are mostly fluffy bits of tulle), and the poor waitresses wear black dresses just below the knee with full, white, ruffled aprons.  There may have been mob caps.  Tip extra.

And now, off to the shops!  One of my favorite finds was this 1950s/60s sewing machine in a shade of lime green not done justice in the photo (sorry).  I was thinking of Betty Keira’s tale of becoming a pleat-sewing runway star through the $5 machine she picked up at Goodwill – but that’s not what the shop had in mind for this beauty, as the label makes clear.

Fortunately, there was another option...

Four bucks for this one...

Two very Betty moments presented themselves – one in the form of a pleated dress (not a nightgown; that’s a dress) that made me think of Betty’s favorite, Gina Fratini.

This dress (not nightgown) is actually by the firm Gunne Sax.  Anybody?  Anybody?  By furrowing my brow and pressing hard on my temples, I can remember Gunne Sax, by Jessica McClintock.  Many, many 1970s US high-school girls wanted to wear one of these to the prom.

Even better was this lovely scene.  The lampshade, white on the outside, is lined with pink!!  I should have bought it, shouldn’t I?  I didn’t even think to check the price.  O, woe.

Finally, and with really no reference to Betty that I can think of, I just had to snap a shot of this:

That’s right, a 17-year old six-pack of Coca-Cola, celebrating baseball’s Cal Ripken.  He played for the Baltimore Orioles, so maybe someone in Maryland would actually want this?

Bettys Magdalen, JoDee, Army and Barbara and whoever else is in the neighborhood – Bettysday in Ellicott City?

Incidentally, we didn't actually purchase any furniture.