Betty in the Wild: Lubbock!

So BettyAnoninTX and the PRT took me in for a couple of nights in Lubbock.  Once I'd figured out the time zones (Arizona doesn't do daylight saving, which makes it a little extra complicated), the visit was pure delight.

We visited the Buddy Holly Center, to mourn the early death and celebrate the great achievements of Lubbock's favorite son.  We also visited his gravesite, where his family got a chance to correct the historical record by spelling his surname correctly; it's 'Holley.'  They used his nickname, however -- 'Buddy' -- in place of his birth-name, Charles.

This total stranger, wearing Buddy-style specs,
agreed in the most friendly fashion to show Alexandra around.

Then we were off to the National Ranching Heritage Center, which includes a park adorned with actual homes, businesses and a schoolhouse (no church?) moved to Lubbock from various points in Texas and maybe eastern New Mexico.  These were fascinating.  BettyAnoninTX and I agreed that, had we had to build a house from cactus to survive the harsh desert in the 19th century, we most likely would have died sunburnt, thirsty, hungry and soon.

Where Penny Bright wound up after her misspent months
in Vegas.

Penny would no doubt have shacked up with
this cowpoke if he had any money at all.  But he doesn't.
(Note book resting on his left wrist.)

If Taro were a poor man, Alexandra would have loved him
just as well, and would have made their home a haven of peace
with the help of her trusty (American-made) Singer.

BettyAnoninTX loves one-room schoolhouses, which this is not.

BettyAnoninTX and the PRT both love pronghorn, even
when desecrated -- I mean, decorated -- by 'yarnstormers.'

After dinner at Chuy's, which is every bit as good as BettyanoninTX will tell you it is, we strolled the Pumpkin Path in celebration of the vulgar American holiday Halloween.

Trick-or-treaters are fine for vulgar Penny; Alexandra will stick with mummers, thank you veddy much.

And on my way out of town, I saw a working ranch with traditional entryway.  Lovely visit!  Thank you so much, BAiT and PRT!

Jenny might not be right at home on the range, but this is
at least as substantial a family heritage as are most of the
estates in Somerset.

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.

Christmas Caroling with Caroline’s Waterloo

So here’s the list of finalists, again, for the upcoming TUJD Best Christmas Ever (2012 version) 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)

Caroline’s Waterloo holds at least two distinctions in this group: one is that it’s the only volume with a MoC; the other is that it’s the only volume in which we don’t actually celebrate Christmas.  But regardless of how Professor Baron Radinck Thoe van Erckelens feels about holidays in general, patient, staff nurse and ideal wife Caroline Tripp Thoe van Erckelens believes in celebrating in style, and is happy to prepare for the festive day, as you may recall...

The book opens with an October bike tour in which Caro injures herself.  While recuperating from concussion and a deep leg wound in the Professor-Baron’s luxurious home, “it suddenly seemed very important to [Caroline] that the Professor should enjoy his Christmas,” and she plans to contribute by playing piano for the six household staff so they may learn a Christmas carol or two.  As she explains to butler Noakes, “Look, Noakes, everyone loves Christmas – if you could just take him by surprise, it might make it seem more fun. Then perhaps he'd have friends to stay – or something.”

 

She returns home to England to celebrate, one assumes, Christmas in her bedsit with her cat.  However, Radinck has other plans, tracks her down and marries her – this seems about mid-November.  The choral sessions begin again, and she buys wool and begins to knit him a sweater she doubts he’ll wear.  As she takes sensitive control of Huis Thoes, she envisions a houseful of guests, “all laughing and talking and dancing in the evening.”  And, of course, attendant on a wealthy Husband of Convenience there’s a “great sapphire in a circle of rose diamonds,” a mink coat and several shopping sprees for clothes, price-tickets no object.

And so the days unfurl: learning to ride, listening intelligently, rescuing donkeys.  In the spirit of Christmas, there’s a birth in a stable (baby donkey Prince), a beautifully-wrapped gift of a spectacular new dressing gown to replace the one bespoiled by donkey afterbirth, generations-old jewels, and a spate of pre-Christmas and New Year’s social events, like the burgemeester’s reception, a few drinks parties and the hospital ball (for which Caro has ‘flu and Radinck has a trip to Vienna, but still, it hovers festively in the background).

I believe this is the passage that makes for the best Neels Christmas ever for some of you:

“They were all a little shy at first.  The room was grand and they felt stiff and awkward and out of place until Caro said in her sparse, excruciating Dutch: ‘Sing as though you were in your own sitting-room – remember it’s to give the Professor pleasure and it’s only because this is the best place for him to hear you.’

“They loosened up after that.  They were well embarked on ‘Silent Night’ with all the harmonies just right, when the Professor unlocked his own front door.  No one heard him.  Even Rex, dozing by the fire, was deafened by the choir.  He stood for a moment in the centre of the hall and then walked very quietly to the drawing-room door, not quite closed.  The room was in shadow with only a lamp by the piano and the sconces on either side of the fireplace alight.  He pushed the door cautiously a few inches so that he could look in and no one saw him.  They were grouped round Caro at the piano, her mousy head lighted by the lamp beside her, one hand beating time while the other thumped out the tune.  Radinck closed the door gently again and retreated to where he had cast down his coat and bag and let himself out of the house again.  The car's engine made no noise above the sighing and whistling of the wind.  He drove back the way he had come, all the way to the airport on the outskirts of Leeuwarden where he parked the car, telephoned his home that he had returned earlier than he had expected, then got back into the car and, for the second time, drove himself home.

Caro had received the news of Radinck's unexpected return with outward calm. ‘We’ll find time to rehearse again tomorrow,’ she told them all. ...

“She closed the piano and went to sit in the sitting-room by the fire, her tapestry in her hands. She even had time to do a row or two before she heard Radinck open the door, speak to Noakes, on the watch for him, and cross the hall to open the sitting-room door.

“‘What a nice surprise!' she smiled as he came into the room. ... 

“‘You are feeling better, I can see that, and being sensible, sitting quietly here.’  ‘Oh, I’ve been very sensible,’ she assured him. ... ‘What have you been doing with yourself?’

“‘Oh, almost nothing – the flowers and catching up with my Dutch, and showing Marta how to make mince pies...’  ‘I surprised you playing the piano before we married,’ he said.  ‘Do you remember? Don’t you play anymore?’

“Caro's red face went pale. ‘Yes – well, sometimes I do.’

“He sat back in his chair, relaxed and at ease, and watched while Noakes placed the coffee tray at Caro’s elbow.  ‘Have you any plans for Christmas?' he asked idly.

“She stammered a little. ‘I understand from Noakes that you don’t – that is, you prefer a quiet time.’

“‘I am afraid that over the years I have got into the habit of doing very little about entertaining – I did mention the party which I give, did I not? Is there anything special you would enjoy? A little music perhaps?’

“‘Music?’ Caro’s needle was working overtime, regardless of wrong stitches.  She took a deep breath.  ‘Oh, you mean going to concerts and that sort of thing; Becky was telling me ... but you really don't have to bother.  We did agree when we married that your life wasn’t to be changed at all, but you’ve already had to go to these parties with me and you must have disliked them very much.  I’m very happy, you know, I don’t mind if I don’t go out socially.’

“‘I thought girls liked dressing up and going out to parties.’

“‘Well, yes, of course, but you see I don’t enjoy them if you don’t.’  She hadn't meant to say that. She stitched a whole row, her head bowed over her work, and wished fruitlessly that the floor would open and swallow her up.

“‘And what precisely do you mean by that?' asked Radinck blandly.

“‘Nothing, nothing at all.’  And then, knowing that she wouldn’t get away with that, she added: ‘What I meant was that I feel guilty because you have to give up your evenings doing something you don’t enjoy when you might be in your study reading ... and writing.’

“‘Put like that I seem to be a very selfish man. I must endeavour to make amends.’  Caro gave him a surprised glance. He wasn’t being sarcastic and his voice held a warm note she hadn’t heard before.”

After which, we have confusions and reconciliations, ending back in that sitting room with a suddenly very conveniently, and happily, married couple.  Christmas, unmentioned now, is still at least a few days away, and I'm guessing the not-so-surprise-but-the-surprisers-don't-know-that carol-choir goes over a treat.

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.

Mischief Managed

I really felt like a character in a Betty Neels novel today. No, not the heroine. I was the crotchety ancillary staff person who has to make alterations on the nurses uniforms. By 8:00am the following day. Muttering sourly.

I made seven nurses aprons today...for my nine year old niece Lauren's school play. What play calls for seven nurses? I'm just wondering. I'll feel much better about the whole project once I get it in the mail on Monday. When it's not looming over my head like a glacier ready to calve.