A Knight’s Tale (82: Queens Park Family Service Unit)

It was part of my management role in Westminster Social Services Department to chair various meetings, such as those of the Area Team, Child Care Reviews, and Child Abuse Case Conferences, involving numerous other agencies.

I was also appointed by the Director of Social Services to represent the City on voluntary committees such as the Queens Park Family Service Unit (FSU) and Beauchamp Lodge Settlement.

FSU grew out of Pacifist Service Units formed in 1940, initially by conscientious objectors who wished to engage in socially useful work. By 1942 there were 14 units staffed by 82 men and women based in London and other cities across the UK. FSU formally came together in 1948 with the primary aim of helping families in difficulty in the aftermath of the war, particularly those affected by evacuation. Its concern was to promote the welfare of families and communities and the agency is identified with a specific method of working focused on ‘casework’ with individuals and families. 

My Area team enjoyed a cooperative relationship with the Queens Park unit which was located on our patch in Harrow Road. The voluntary organisation’s policy was for the staff and clients to relate to each each other on a day to day basis in a normal way, in addition to the casework mentioned above. A greater understanding of each other was developed, without blurring the boundaries of their roles. I liken this to parents who have positive friendships with their children, whilst remembering that, although equal human beings, they don’t hold quite the same positions in families. Committee members mingled in a similar way on social occasions. Thus I got to know personally some clients of my own Social Workers. I am pleased to say that this, although a delicate balance, was often helpful, as long as we all realised that they were not my cases.

I was from time to time asked to join interview panels for new staff appointments. On one occasion I was surprised to discover that one silent member was the then Director’s lapdog, normally occupying her shopping basket. This had not fazed the successful applicant.

Several times I illustrated the covers of Queens Park FSU’s annual reports. Because I had handed over the original drawings I had kept copies of neither these nor the documents themselves.

Sam as cover 1981

One summer, in the early part of the 20th century, I found myself walking past the said FSU and popped in to see if they had a spare copy of a particular publication. I was told that the unit was moving the following week and I could help myself from a box of annual reports that were about to be binned.

I couldn’t believe my luck when I found exactly what I was looking for. This was the annual report for 1980-1981, featuring toddler Sam reaching for a daisy being handed to him by Jessica. Our son is on the back, with the two hands on the front. The drawing is taken from a black and white photograph produced late in 1980 in the Owl House Garden at Lamberhurst in Kent. The Annual Report is a bit grubby and I have left it that way.

The move had been prompted by FSU being taken over by the Family Welfare Association in 2006. Two years later this much larger organisation was rebranded and now bears the name Family Action.

Later, I thought I had lost my copy once more, and found it again in May 2014 sandwiched between two history books.

Christmas Day 2021

This would have been a memorable Christmas Day even had it not been the first for two years since the advance of the pandemic.

Following our normal routine with Mat, Tess, and Poppy; Becky and Ian, we began in mid-morning, when everyone had emerged from bedrooms in various stages of sleep and dress, with

the opening of Santa’s stocking presents.

Later, after watching this year’s memorable Queen’s speech, the sitting room was once more littered with the debris while the establishment of some kind of order was attempted in

the opening of major presents.

Of particular note was

Flo’s parcel from Kentucky containing her painting of Durdle Door, being her present to Daddy Ian, leaving him quite overcome.

America was good to us, since we also received a wonderful Shutterfly Photo Album from Jan and Bob Beek from Montana and their daughter DeAna from Switzerland. The photographs and captions form a most engaging set of memorable photographs and prose from Jan who spent much of the time beneath the large red umbrella featured in https://derrickjknight.com/2021/10/02/108208/

Jackie enjoyed the antique Victorian mother of pearl and Brussels lace fan I gave her.

Next, was Christmas dinner at 6 p.m.

By the time I had been served with Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and parsnips, Tess’s homemade stuffing, pigs in blankets, mashed swede, carrots, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts and chestnuts, I wondered how I would add any turkey to my plate. The problem was solved by carver Tess and her helper, the Culinary Queen, stacking the meat on top of the rest. Regular readers will know of Matthew and Becky’s penchant for Grandma pepper. We now have my Mum’s own cruets with which to sprinkle the white pepper on our dinners. We drank a toast with Marlborough aerated Sauvignon Blanc 2018. Other white and red wines were also imbibed.

Afterwards we all decided to have a rest before trying Tess’s Christmas pudding. If it is anything like her Christmas cake it will be worth having left room for.

The Sun Must Be Over The Yardarm

Elizabeth paid us a visit just as we were settling down with lunch and an antiques programme. She declined to join us but was happy to make herself a coffee while we turned off the TV and enjoyed a chat and an exchange of presents to be placed under our respective Christmas trees.

Afterwards I made a start on reading

This frontispiece, illustrated by the inimitable Charles Keeping, depicts ‘Carton stood over him with his hand in his breast’

The next three drawings show ‘A horse and rider came slowly through the eddying mist’;

‘ ‘I kiss your hand, miss’ ‘;

and ‘Madame Defarge said nothing when her lord came in’

This afternoon, while preparing tomorrow’s festive dinner, the Culinary Queen lost all track of time, and, thinking the sun must be over the yardarm,

brought me a glass of Lirac at ten past three.

Soon afterwards, Becky and Ian arrived. Later we were joined by Mat, Tess, and Poppy. We all dined on Mr Chan’s excellent Hordle Chinese Take Away.

Soggy Sustenance

On a mizzly murky morning we drove to Lymington for a few final present purchases.

The window of the Oakhaven Children’s Charity Shop in the High Street and the front green of the Church of St Thomas and All Angels both bore Nativity scenes, while the latter contained a bed of remembrance poppies beside those surrounding the War Memorial.

After a Costa coffee in a dry shop we continued into the forest in search of damp equines., of which we found some.

A donkey family munched gorse. A rather large foal attempted to vary its diet by seeking sustenance from a darker hued dam. She was not interested.

The avenue into Ashenwood dripped silently, as did

St Leonard’s Road’s bare oaks,

along the muddy verges of which

our oft-seen friends, now with matted coats sought soggy sustenance.

This evening we dined on fried eggs, chips, and baked beans with which Jackie drank Concha y Toro Casillero del Diablo Reserva Sauvignon Blanc 2021 and I drank more of the Lirac.

An Essay In Concentration

On what has been the coldest morning of the year so far, Martin Bowers from Fordingbridge arrived promptly to start work on replacing our Wisteria arbour.

The first stumbling block was literally one of concrete – a thick layer from which he had to prise the sheathed bottom of a post needing replacement. It was very hard work – even to watch him.

The same was true of the next one which Martin drilled before breaking up to make room for the second post, which would be

cemented in like the first.

Great concentration, employing the obligatory pencil behind the ear, measuring tape, string, and spirit level, was demonstrated in lining up the second post.

Unfortunately Martin then discovered that some of the older posts he had thought could be utilised were rather too like the curate’s egg, and only good in parts. He will therefore need to return with more new timber to complete the job a day or two after Christmas.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s thick chicken and vegetable stew with crusty bread. The accompaniment to the Culinary Queen’s portion was Hoegaarden, and mine, Chateau Chante Mistral Lirac 2020

Florence

One of our regular Christmas decorations is positioned under the glass of an African display table I bought in Finsbury Park in the late 1970s. It features our granddaughter Florence as Mary alongside Joseph in a Primary School Nativity Play.

I spent the afternoon completing my reading of my 1984 Folio Society Edition of Charles Dickens’s Dombey and Son. Despite the emotional and practical difficulties in the author’s getting to grips with this work described by Christopher Hibbert in his excellent introduction, Dickens has produced what I have found his most engaging novel. I agree with Thackeray’s observation that “It is unsurpassed. It is stupendous”. All the writer’s descriptive skills; his humour; his flowing prose; his compassion; and his forward looking, come into play with a consummate construction not always apparent in other works. I was most impressed by the way in which he draws a large cast of characters together in the last few paragraphs as he brings the book to a complete conclusion. The lives are largely not happy ones, but they have credible participants, of which Florence is a key member. As usual I will refrain from giving any more detail in case any readers are tempted to tackle the tome.

Charles Keeping’s final septet of illustrations speak for themselves.

‘ ‘Sol Gills ahoy’ ‘

‘A burying-ground, where the few tombs and tombstones are almost black’

‘Nothing lay there, any longer, but the ruin of the mortal house’

‘He wept, alone’

‘Down among the mast, oar, and block makers’

‘Edith sunk down to her knees, and caught her round the neck’

‘The Wooden Midshipman’

This evening we dined on Jackie’s succulent beef in red wine; creamy mashed potatoes; crunchy carrots and broccoli; firm Brussels sprouts; and tender runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Merlot.

A Knight’s Tale (81: The Mudlarks)

I bought this glass cabinet which Elizabeth uses to show her collection of old glass artefacts, when I lived in Sutherland Place 2008, and passed it on to my sister when I moved in 2009.  Not shown in the header picture is the Victorian ceramic cold cream pot, complete with lid.  It is mainly this which, every time I see this display takes me back to the days of The Mudlarks. No, not the pop vocal group of the 50s and 60s.  Us.  The early 1980s were our mudlarking years. Strictly speaking I think mudlarking is confined to activity on the Thames.  Scavengers would, in Victorian times, and probably long before, search at low tide for anything valuable that may have been dropped in the river.  Waterside  taverns provided rich pickings.  When Matthew and Becky were small  I would take them off to a site near the river at Kingston.  This wasn’t actually on the riverside.  It was a patch of land, owned by the Council, which was about to be built on.  It covered the site of a Victorian midden, or rubbish dump.  We, and some other enthusiasts were given permission to dig here for lost treasure.  The only proviso was that we must fill in our hole when we had ransacked it.  Except for John, we all found the returning of the soil pretty tough after having dug it all out.

John was a small, wiry,  immensely strong Jack Russell of a man who would grab a shovel, get stuck in, and disappear down his hole sending up showers of earth like a terrier down a foxhole.  John’s bag would be full of finds while I was still thinking about it.  His hole would be filled in before mine had been dug.  For a time this was wonderfully exciting family entertainment.  We found lots of stone beer bottles and hot water bottles, marked with the names of brewers and manufacturers long since part of history.  Most prized by the children were the lozenge-shaped lemonade containers with marbles in their necks.  The fizz would force these glass balls to seal the bottles.  We did not find many complete ones because Mat and Becky’s Victorian predecessors had already had the marbles.  And, of course, we found little ceramic pots like the one not featured in my header picture.  Medicine bottles, and Mexican Hair Restorer were often blue.  We saw how the shapes of Bovril and ink bottles had changed over the years. Matthew and Becky still have some of those early spoils.

Only on one occasion, early in 1982, did we go mudlarking in the true sense of the word.  If you dig a hole  on the side of the Thames it is even more imperative to fill it in.  Sometimes people avoid this process and allow the action of the tide to do it for them.  Then you get a quagmire.  As we discovered.  When we went hunting below a waterside pub.  All we managed to find was a few ox’s jawbones and teeth, and heaps of oyster shells.  No gold coins, nor even silver ones.  When we decided the tide would soon be coming in we made for the safety of the embankment.  Jessica, pregnant with Louisa, went striding off in her billowing Monsoon skirt and green wellies.  And disappeared.  She was in a quagmire.  With great difficulty, I fished her out.  I suppose you could say that was our only successful find that day.

“I Don’t Want To Have To Pick You Up From The Floor”

During much of the day I struggled with BT who have chosen to deny that I continue to have an account while they are taking payment for it but blocking access to it so I can’t check what they might be extracting. I have better things to do than persist at the moment.

This afternoon I published https://derrickjknight.com/2021/12/20/a-knights-tale-80-samson-is-welcomed/

Jackie made further progress with the Christmas decorations. As can be seen, Santa has been checking out the chimney. I am not allowed to assist because the Maintenance Department says she doesn’t want to have to pick me up from the floor.

This evening we dined on the Culinary Queen’s flavoursome stewp and fresh crusty bread and butter with which I drank more of the Merlot.

A Knight’s Tale (80: Samson’s Welcome)

We have seen, in https://derrickjknight.com/2021/12/05/a-knights-tale-74-if-you-know-this-dog-please-return-him-to-his-owner/ that Piper was a Soho stray. We acquired a cat in a similar way. After two days and nights of a black kitten crying on our doorstep we had allowed him inside and accepted him as a member of the family. He was named Soho.

When, in March 1980, we moved from Horse and Dolphin Yard to Gracedale Road, London, SW16, our feline friend jumped into the van, and refused to budge.

This photograph of Jessica was taken shortly before Sam’s birth, in University College Hospital in Euston Road, on 19th.

Sam 21.6.80

Here is the new arrival at two days old. He must have had decent fingernails, hence the protective mittens.

Cradled by his Mum he slept peacefully,

Jessica and Sam 21.6.80 6

then shared his first joke with her,

Matthew and Sam 21.6.80 2

and was introduced into the eager arms of Matthew

Becky and Sam 21.6.80 1

and Becky.

Gracedale Road was to be our home until 1987.

A Proper Carve Up

Today we lunched at Helen and Bill’s in company with Shelly and Ron. Before, during, and after the excellent meal we enjoyed convivial conversation and reminiscences.

Helen produced a fine starter of paté, biscuits, and grapes; a splendid main course of tender venison, crisp roast potatoes, carrots of varying colours, stringless runner beans, cranberry sauce, and thick, tasty, gravy. She finished with coffee before we retired to the sitting room.

Bill exercised both sommelier and carver duties in an impressive manner. Red, white, and rosé wines were imbibed. Christmas crackers were of good quality. Jackie is seen reading a joke.

One of my contributions to reminiscences was my story of ‘Fred’, which, when I returned home I found I had told on a previous similar occasion, and posted it in https://derrickjknight.com/2013/10/20/fred/

The upside down nature of the pineapple dessert reminded me of https://derrickjknight.com/2015/10/25/chocolate-surprise-pudding/ . I recounted this story, too.

Needless to say, we had no need of further sustenance this evening.