Reading the news for the area where I grew up in North Kent, I clicked on links to London news and came across an article about a rather original site. It’s a site called Thank You London and it gives people the opportunity to post thanks. You can say thank you for just about anything – to the city itself, to specific people, to no one in particular, or even the weather.
The posts are anonymous, but unlike some sites where anonymity can tend to descend into rudeness, these are pleasant expressions of gratitude. Here are some examples of posts:
“Thank you for being a home from home.”
“Thank you for the sunshine in Lincoln’s In Fields.”
“Thank you to the guy who helped me with my suitcase on the escalators at Waterloo.”
“Thank you to the Curzon Cinema for being such a great venue on a wet and cold afternoon.”
If you were to post thanks to your town, what would you say? I’d thank Sacramento (where I now live) for having such great weather! And I’d thank the place where I grew up for being a safe and scenic place to live, but thankfully close enough to London for an easy escape to culture and excitement.
The other day I was looking at the Daily Mail online. It’s my before-work guilty pleasure. The writing is terrible, and it’s full of articles of doubtful origin, yet I can’t stop myself.
One article that caught my eye was one about an exhibition of propaganda from around the world at the British Library. Entitled Propaganda: Power and Persuasion, it’s on until September 17th. If I were in London, I would definitely go along and take a look. I love looking at old propaganda posters and leaflets. They can be very creative and sometimes just bizarre. This one from the British Library’s website is a little on the bizarre side:
The exhibition also has some old English ration books and wartime recipe books. Reading the article, I was struck by a picture of a little book called “The Kitchen Front: 122 wartime recipes” which was published in 1942 and priced at 6D. I have a copy of that book, with my great-aunt’s name penciled onto the title page. It has a few grease marks on it which suggest it was used. We used to visit my great-aunt quite often, but I don’t recall ever eating at her house. I don’t remember my grandmother ever making any food for us when we visited her house either. On reading some of the recipes, I’m kind of glad they didn’t cook for us. It also gives me an appreciation of what life was like for my parents as children during WW2. No wonder my father used to say “You children don’t know the meaning of hunger,” when we’d complain about not liking some food or other. If the dishes described in the book are the kinds of things he and my mother ate growing up, I can also understand why they thought sardine paste sandwiches were an acceptable packed lunch. I didn’t as a ten-year-old – and nor did my classmates. That stuff stinks.
If you feel like trying out some thrifty recipes, how about Pea Pod Soup, Vegetable Creams, or Roast Calf’s Head? Click on the recipes to see them up close. Let me know if you try them!
I’m not much of a cook. It’s not that I can’t cook, but if it takes longer than twenty minutes, I’m just not interested. I also find that any recipe starting along the lines “A simple recipe using store cupboard essentials” invariably consists of about 10 ingredients I don’t possess. However, I’ve finally found a recipe on the BBC Good Food site for which I have almost all the ingredients on hand:
The comments at the end of the instructions are fun to read.
Way back when, I was in the Brownies (girl guides/girl scouts). I was a leprechaun. I’m the short one with dark hair below.
There are a few things I remember about being in the Brownies. One is an Easter Sunday parade at church (there was some official ‘Brownie’ word, but that’s not one of the things I remember). We were instructed by Brown Owl to bring half a dozen eggs which would be distributed to needy old age pensioners after the church service. These eggs were supposed to be raw, so the deserving OAP could whip themselves up some scrambled eggs, bake a cake, or whatever else you can do with eggs. However, my mother refused to believe the eggs should be raw. She didn’t believe they’d let a group of seven- to nine-year-olds sit in church for an hour with boxes of fragile eggs and insisted on hard boiling mine. I still have visions of some old dear trying to crack an egg for a morning fry-up, only to find a rubbery ball in the shell.
Another thing I remember is selling ‘Sunny Smiles’. At the time, all I knew was that the money was for poor children, and that I struggled to sell even one book while other brownies would sell volumes and volumes of the things. I’ve since found out that the money raised went to the National Children’s Homes. I don’t know if brownies still sell Sunny Smiles, but they were the British alternative to Girl Scout cookies. While American brownies were shifting boxes of thin mints, I was trying to sell black and white pictures of orphans.
Girl Scout Cookies
They were small pictures, perhaps 2.5 inches by 2.5 inches. I found the image here on a Facebook group I belong to. I always felt a little sorry for the children in the booklets. Of course, I felt sorry that the children were in need, but I felt even sorrier that people would leaf through the books, looking for a kid they considered cute enough to buy. People would tear out the kid they wanted, and sign their name on the stub left in the book. I’m not sure why they had to sign their name, but I think it was supposed to act as proof that you didn’t just sell the whole book to your mum and dad, and that you’d forced your parents to pressure their friends and coworkers into buying some. Any children the buyers thought were less attractive would be left in the books at the end of the selling period, and I felt very bad for those children. As an adult, selling pictures of young children seems odd, although the intention was good.
I can’t help thinking that boxes of cookies (or should I say biscuits?) would have raised more money, but the little booklets were easy to carry around. Looking back, Sunny Smiles were a nice, if strange, idea. Anyone else sell Sunny Smiles?