Memories of the future : $b Being memoirs of the years 1915‒1972, written in the year of grace 1988Knox, Ronald Arbuthnott
History
Memories of the future : $b Being memoirs of the years 1915‒1972, written in the year of grace 1988
Knox, Ronald Arbuthnott
English fiction -- 20th century; Satire, English; Twentieth century -- Forecasts
There were still interesting old survivals from an earlier period in
costume. I remember old Lord Sandham still going about in a starched
collar, and, I rather believe, starched cuffs. He was very proud of
himself for still having his own teeth, which he used to attribute to
the fact that he had never chewed gum in his life, or rather, not since
they broke him of the habit in his nursery. He was proud, too, of never
having been up in any kind of aircraft: and the story is told of him
that when he first came up to London after the first moving platforms
had been put in in Piccadilly and elsewhere, he and an equally
countrified friend walked for about a quarter of an hour up the slow
platform, thinking that they were getting to their club, when they were
really standing quite still! I can still see Sir Mark Adgate, too, with
his watch in his waistcoat pocket, tied on to the end of a gold chain,
with which he used gravely to take it out whenever he wanted to know the
time. Mrs. Grant (better known as “Phyllis Meadowes”) was the last woman
I ever saw wearing ear-rings. I believe my own uncle, Lord Trecastle,
was the last man who appeared in fashionable society with a beard and
moustaches. In his generation, of course, to be clean-shaven meant a
considerable personal effort: the depilatories then known were either
harmful to the health or painful in their application, and it was only
by scraping with a sharp razor every morning that the unwelcome growth
could be removed. But indeed, I have lived through extraordinary changes
in the matter of toilet elaborateness. Towards the end of the thirties,
owing, I believe, to the great number of Anglo-Indians who came back
after Home Rule was granted, the bath became a perfect obsession, and
hardly any men thought they could get on without washing all over with
water and soap twice a day. It may be imagined how slow and cumbrous
this process was! And yet all this time we never used anything but a
vacuum cleaner for our carpets and curtains—as if carpets and curtains
were more entitled to the benefits of civilization than Man!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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