This month, let’s look at the Abergavenny Chronicle, which was founded in 1871 and soon established itself as the true voice of the town, always ready to whisper useful words of advice in the eager ears of its readers. And if we look at an edition from November 1909, you can see just how successful they were.
Did you know – and why should you? – that you can tell a Danish woman is a widow by looking at the finger on which she wears her wedding ring? I didn’t have a clue myself, but I have always thought it is bad manners to stare quite so intently.
We are also advised that Mary Queen of Scot’s cursed marriages in May and so it is a month to be avoided by nuptualists. Inevitably therefore, only ‘bad’ women get married in May, which raises a huge number of questions in my opinion, though I think it is wrong to judge…
Page three carries some invaluable fashion advice, particularly about Russian Blouse Coats. It is what we all need, especially when the weather is likely to take a turn for the worse. The coat was worn a little longer in 1909, though thankfully there was the same pouch at the waist. The most effective versions were made in velvet, we are told, with a narrow band of squirrel edging, and a deep collar, also in squirrel.
I can see this as a particularly useful way forward, this collar business. Any mature male, however advanced his years, needs to believe that there is a purpose for those evil grey little varmints that get into your loft and gnaw their way through expensive electrical cable. And if you don’t think there are enough squirrels to supply the fashion industry, then I respectfully suggest you come and look at my garden…Perhaps I better park that idea for a while, lest you think I have the potential to become obsessive.
We are advised that a girl home from school should always be encouraged to help in the house. As a father of three daughters, on reading this, I found myself required, without warning, to confront my own considerable failings, but then such is the power of incisive journalism.
Elsewhere in the paper, someone called Lord Hamilton observes that the secret of happiness within society lies in women devoting themselves to domestic duties, for it is in the best -ordered establishments that you find ‘the most contented husbands and the happiest servants.’ Presumably this is because, especially in the case of the latter, someone is doing their work for them.
One of these duties is outlined in the ‘Home Hints’ column, where you will find advice on how to boil celery. At this point, perhaps I should offer you a spoiler alert, because the recipe is not quite as complex as it sounds. You plunge the sticks into boiling water and simmer them for 45 minutes. Then you slap a sauce on them. Not much for your gut bacteria to work on there, if you ask me, but they have always enjoyed their vegetables very well-cooked in Abergavenny.
Further down, there are instructions about what to do if you have to breathe ‘in a doubtful atmosphere,’ presumably from over-cooking your celery. ‘Keep your mouth as closely shut as possible and breathe through the nose.’ There is a certain beauty in simplicity, I believe, but I am not at all sure that works, if I am honest, especially in these Covid times. Perhaps I am being too picky.
As far as I am concerned, the item about how ‘manners maketh the man’ is a bit old-hat. You must ‘accustom the members of your household to practice cleanly, tidy habits and when they pass into the world and are asked to take a higher position, they will tender their heartfelt thanks.’ As a father of three daughter’s on reading this. I found myself required…I think I might have mentioned this before.
But anyway, talking of old hats. There is also a piece in the column about how to renovate last season’s felt hat by doing clever things with a hot iron and a damp cloth.
I do struggle with the advice about rabbits, between you and me, but I have always been a town boy. ‘Home Hints’ tells us that a young rabbit can be easily recognised by its sharp claws and brittle jawbone. I think there must be easier ways of determining age amongst rabbits – size possibly – rather than by fighting the thing and trying to land a punch square on the jaw. But you see, there is also advice on how to prepare and cook a spatchcocked rabbit. Now I can’t help but think that by that stage, when you have cut it open and skewered it to a board to keep it flat whilst you brush it with egg and smother it in breadcrumbs, whether it is a young rabbit with a glass jaw or an old battle-hardened buck, it isn’t going to make a great deal of difference. A knockout blow has already been well and truly landed. As far as the accompanying recipe for Ginger Marrow Jam is concerned, I think it is best to draw a discreet veil.
Elsewhere in this fine edition of the Abergavenny Chronicle we are told of the Emperor of Austria, who, at 79 years of age, still keeps up the simple soldierly habits of his youth, He slept in a field bed and rose from it at 4.00 am every morning. But none of us can escape from the consequences of age, as most of us have realised. His Imperial Highness then ‘spends an hour on his toilet.’ I know how he must have felt. But if he was ever advised to review his dietary habits and embrace a more plant-based diet, I hope he avoided the newspapers advice of how best to deal with celery.
So a fine edition all round, offering readers guidance in so many important ways. Sadly, however, not every resident of Abergavenny was so sufficiently open minded as to review their priorities, in the light of such lessons pointing towards a more fulfilled life. Annie Vicks was brought to court, charged with using obscene language on the Merthyr Road. And which of us, if we are being honest, hasn’t done that?
This was her fifteenth appearance, and the magistrate said that it was difficult to know how to deal with her. He needed to read the local press more closely, in my view. She was fined 5s. But given the option of seven days imprisonment. Annie thought about it for a bit and then decided that it had to be prison, since she had no money. I just hope that the newspaper didn’t miss that golden opportunity for more valuable life-coaching.
