Man and Manners

I read in The Week that Oldie Publications Ltd have put out a book, "I Once Met... Chance Encounters with the Famous and Infamous", edited by Richard Ingrams. It is a collection of memories from  writers and readers of the magazine. I could not find any link to it, so, but read this:

"It must have been around the early 1930s that the gentleman char came into my mother's life. I helped her in the house after school, as had my older sisters, but they were now out at work. How she coped, in that old, cold, inconvenient, no-amenities house was truly amazing. We were a family of ten, with huge appetites, and we frequently brought hungry friends home for meals. My mother could stretch a meal quite miraculously.

"We lived in Limehouse, close to the Docks. One day a friend who lived near Whitechapel's Rowton House, a hostel for the homeless, brought "Laurel" to our house. His real name was not known; "Laurel" was the label attached to him by the East Enders with whom he came into contact. He was prepared to clean our house for the going rate of half a crown (twelve and a half pence) a day, plus a midday meal. The money just about covered the cost of a bed at Rowson House, and possibly some cigarettes.

"I came home early one afternoon and there he was. The tall, slim, narrow-faced "charman" bore a resemblance to the Laurel of the comedy partnership Laurel and Hardy. The man spoke to me. It was not what he said that startled me, it was the way he said it. His speech was what we at that time called Oxford English- cultured, correct, plum-in-the-mouth BBC English. I was too young then to hide my surprise at his posh accent. He smiled gently, bowed slightly, and then further astonished me by kissing my mother's hand and saying: "goodbye, queen of the kitchen." Turning to me he added: "Your mother is a fine lady and a splendid cook."

"My mother was consumed with pity for the poor man. She told me that he had scrubbed all the floors, cleaned the twin outside lavatories and polished that blacklead cooker to a mirror finish. "That well-bred gentleman worked so hard I had to make him stop for a rest." Then, quite suddenly, Laurel vanished. He was seen no more in our part of the East End. He was just another of the anonymous men who overnighted at the doss house.

"After the last War, I came upon a book written by George Orwell. In it was a photograph of the author, taken when younger. The man was Eric Blair, and I recognised him. He was my mother's Laurel; it must have been during his period of tramping around London, doing any work that came his way, that he did this East End charring. George Orwell was reputed to have said that the women he admired most were the hardworking, uncomplaining mothers of at least eight children. I like to think that he included my mother in this. She certainly fitted the description."

-Stella Judt

George Orwell's "Down and Out in Paris and London" is one of the books where the compassionate voice of this champion of the underdog rings loud. I feel happy to see that Orwell no mere word spinner, but a man with manners to match his convictions.