DO IT YOURSELF, MATE!

One of the many illusions we live under is that today’s Briton has an easy life compared to that of his parents’ and grandparents’ generation. There is some truth in this – certainly communications have been markedly improved, dire poverty greatly alleviated, labour-saving gadgets introduced and distances radically shortened. But there are downsides to progress which may give us pause - not all is perfect in our little garden.

The old ways had their conveniences. A middle class wife might in say, 1950, drive to the grocer, followed by the baker, fruiterer and butcher and recite her shopping-list. The shop-keeper would be all politeness and attend to her every whim. Smaller items would be wrapped up for the customer to take away and anything bulky would be delivered promptly by van or butcher’s boy bike to the customer’s house and stored away by the cook or housemaid. The whole process could be done by telephone, and often was. A weekly or even monthly invoice would be rendered and paid regularly. Pretty painless for the dutiful wife!

A visit to the grocer in the 1950s

Contrast that with our 2018 shopper. She goes to a vast supermarket – the grocer, baker, fruiterer and butcher long out of business. Aisle upon aisle laden with produce, but you have got to find what you want, select them yourself and fill your wire trolley and push it around. No service, no expert advice, no help, no distinctive atmosphere. The check-out staff know nothing about the products and care even less. You actually have to buy the bags to carry your goods away and no loading help is offered. Their job is to collect your money and your payment card is debited long before you have left the premises. Then the lady has to trudge home and take the purchases out of the car and unaided lug them home (possibly up-stairs) and pack them away. She is exhausted, requiring heroic doses of gin and tonic to revive, and many a husband/partner has to sacrifice his time to lend a hand. The 1950s housewife had it a good deal easier.

The supermarket - convenient but soul-less

Two great revolutions lie at the root of this new situation. The first is the end of domestic service as a significant part of the economy. I had the good fortune to be born into the purple of the Aberdeen commercial classes. My father was a cinema and theatre proprietor and was comfortably prosperous. Like a million other middle-class households we had a live-in housemaid and a cook in the 1940s and 1950s, reducing to a single housemaid in the 1960s, and then nobody. Daily ladies helped to keep the substantial house spotless and an odd-job man washed cars and ran errands. In time better opportunities came along and many could earn a fatter wage elsewhere, leaving the leisured bourgeoisie to cope on their own.

The second revolution was the severe diminution in the supply of tradesmen. Fifty years ago there was an army of painters, joiners, plumbers and electricians ready to do residential work at a fair price. But they became more expensive as more regular and higher value work took centre stage, they became more regulated, less accommodating and much scarcer or degenerated into cowboy outfits. As a consequence the DIY movement took hold and highly competent bankers and lawyers became second-rate wallpaper hangers and lethal amateur electricians.

Wheelie-bin blight

Minor inconveniences still rankle. In earlier days the dustbins were not much handled by the householder and the weekly collection involved the dustman carrying your dustbin to his cart and returning it to its allotted place. Now you are ordered to push the ugly wheelie-bin to the edge of your property where a fortnightly (if you are lucky) collection is made and you do all the bin-moving.  Complex recycling edicts are issued to make your life even more stressful and your acquaintance with bin-contents more intimate. The traditionally comforting clink of milk-bottles delivered on your doorsteps is often a distant memory – supermarket packaged milk somehow does not have the same cachet.  

Not that our forebears were inexperienced at do-it-yourself. “Make do and mend” was a common motto, socks would be darned, hems would be raised, buttons would be sewn. Now we live with a generation impatient of stringing out the life of clothes. My favourite cardigan, worn and aged but much cherished, is consigned to the dustbin. I am a fan of elbow-pads for my sweaters, much disparaged and mocked for my pains. Fancy outfits must have built-in obsolescence as they seem to last 3 years at best, whilst my beady eye would assume a minimum of 10.

The contrasts between Then and Now run deeper. We now live in compact “nuclear” family units, very self-sufficient but in danger of being introverted. We turn our back on the extended family with its occasional kind aunts or wicked uncles. Children must miss their interesting cousins and a broad ready-made circle of acquaintance. The older generation always needs a little cossetting and confused old Granny in her rocking chair can easily be tolerated, if the burden is shared – packing her off to a home is surely a last resort. “No act of kindness, however small, is ever wasted” taught Aesop.

A cheerful modern family

May we stop whingeing and make the most of our fascinating lives close to the warmth of family and friends!

SMD

27.04.18

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2018

ARCHITECTURAL JOYS

It was not until I got into my late-20s that I began to appreciate the heady joys of architecture. I had plenty of previous opportunities having already visited the sights of London, Edinburgh, Oxford, Paris, Vienna, Rome, Venice and Athens, but my eye was uneducated and I did not know how to look at and analyse what was in front of my nose. Starting work in the City of London in 1968, my blindness began to be lifted when I bought a booklet on the City Churches by John Betjeman (1906-84), wildly popular Poet Laureate and deeply informed, if eccentric, architectural writer.

Sir John Betjeman "The Nation's battered teddy-bear"

Armed with my Betjeman booklet, I visited all the 39 Anglican City Churches, spread over many a lunch-hour. What an introduction that was – partly Norman St Bartholomew the Great, very near Betjeman’s then house at Cloth Fair, Wren civic grandeur at St Lawrence, Jewry, monumental St Mary Woolnoth, masterpiece of Nicholas Hawksmoor, other gems like St Olave, Hart Street, Great St Helens, St Stephen Walbrook and St Mary Aldermary. American-born poet, TS Eliot, had particularly admired St Magnus the Martyr: Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.

Reading more Betjeman in poetry and prose I came to understand his High Anglican enthusiasms but more widely to admire Betjeman’s power to communicate. He made many architectural programmes for TV, most memorably Metroland and documentaries about his beloved Cornwall. John would sport a summer boater and seduce the camera with a whispered “Let me show you something rather special”.  

Famously Betjeman championed Victorian architects, starting in the 1930s, then much out of fashion, and campaigned against the ruthless demolition of their more prominent buildings. Thus he tried (and failed) to prevent the destruction of Euston Arch but had better luck with George Gilbert Scott’s St Pancras Station and Hotel whose spires and elaborations enliven an often neglected part of London. I am sure many architectural amateurs feel warm gratitude towards Betjeman who was a charismatic figure. The charming statue on his honour at St Pancras Station captures his characteristic spirit.

Statue of Betjeman at St Pancras Station

        

St Pancras station - the epitome of Victoriana

In about 1971, knowing of my ecclesiastical wanderings, my dear wife gave me a copy of The Cathedrals of England by Alec Clifton Taylor (1907-1985). This was truly a life-changer as it described the 26 ancient Anglican cathedrals and galvanised us into visiting them all. Many were relatively close at hand, or were on familiar routes North but I think it was 20 years before we gathered in the last stragglers, Ripon and Exeter. But what a magnificent hook upon which to hang a journey! The choice of book was inspired as Clifton Taylor had a masterly knowledge of building materials and masonry techniques and a sure eye for the true beauties of these amazing buildings. An appendix had a plan and a brief summary of the particular merits of each cathedral. It brought us to visit relatively obscure Ely, Wells, Lichfield, Southwell, Durham and his great favourite, Lincoln.

Alec Clifton Taylor's favourite  Lincoln Cathedral

Another Clifton Taylor volume was acquired, English Parish Churches as Works of Art, embracing hundreds of parish churches from the grand to the intimate with a star-system and invaluable county lists guiding you to the most remote but delightful places – often with a nearby pub and village green, the very essence of England.

Alec Clifton Taylor elucidates

     

Clifton Taylor did not confine himself to church architecture. Three books about English Towns described 18 places and a linked TV series made him a familiar figure as he tottered around amiably in tweeds and an ancient hat passing on his wisdom about oolitic limestone, Flemish bond bricklaying, pargeting and medieval town layouts. He was a joy to read and watch and my journeys to, say, Totnes, Chichester, Saffron Walden or Beverley were much enhanced by some modest prior homework with Clifton Taylor. He disagreed with Betjeman over the Victorians, many of whose efforts he disparaged, and his views were more in tune with those of Nikolaus Pevsner (1902 – 1983), the guru of architectural writers, whose magisterial, if dry, county guides set the bar for his later disciples.

            Some Parish Church! -Beverley Minster exterior and interior

 

                           

The most up-to-date architectural writer is Simon Jenkins (1943-  ) rather a distinguished man of parts. He is a former editor of The Times, chairman of the National Trust and a political commentator, now writing Leftie articles, alas, for The Guardian. He has written voluminously on architecture and his splendid England’s 1,000 Best Churches is a tome to delve into rather than read end to end. I am currently reading his England’s Cathedrals which covers 53 buildings, lavishly illustrated, adding to the ancient 26 all those raised from parish church to cathedral status in the last 120 years and adding several of the better Catholic ones. Jenkins writes with authority and wide sympathies.

Simon Jenkins

Wells Cathedral, his favourite

 

But architecture is not just about ecclesiastical buildings even though some of England’s best fall into that category. Nor is architectural writing a churchy or elitist pastime. Only Betjeman was a (tortured) believer while Clifton Taylor and Jenkins are outside the church. True, all three writers are from Oxbridge and were awarded knighthoods but their audience is a very wide public which yearns to be better informed about our rich heritage.

I am immensely thankful for the architectural education I have acquired and now can appreciate the joys of all that Europe and the Americas can provide.

SMD

16.04.18

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2018