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This month’s extract from the diary of a centre organiser come from July 1950
A “ Bright Young Thing ” called at the office this morning to make enquiries about WVS at the very moment when I had to leave for an appointment at the further end of the town. Remembering my County Organiser’s words: . . . "Encourage younger women to join. We are all of us ten years older . .. ” and so on, I beamed welcomingly, thrust a copy of “How WVS. can serve the community” and a pencil into her hands and told her to mark the forms of service in which she was most interested. She had left by the time I returned and Miss MacFee handed me the marked leaflet. “KKL” was pencilled against a great many paragraphs and my hopes rose. She had initialled, perhaps, the jobs with which she would be prepared to lend a hand? “No,” Miss MacFee told me dourly, her name’s Brown— and she says she’ll help with the ACF Canteen.” “ And 'KKL’?” I enquired, mystified. Miss MacFee looked down her nose. “She told me it stood for“ ‘Kouldn’t Kare Less’,” she said.
Mrs Grouse was holding forth in her usual delightful (?) way at today’s “Make Do and Mend” party. All the vegetables in her garden had failed; her silk sunshade, purchased only last year, had split; a frock, guaranteed “fast” colours, had faded : on and on went the tales of woe. “You’re a pessimist, that’s what you are,” Mrs Bright said at last. “You’re like the farmer who had some chickens. ‘They’re a fine lot,’ somebody told him, but he shook his head‘ The trouble is the old hen hatched out nine, and all of them have died on me but eight,’ he said.” (The rest of us laughed, but Mrs Grouse thought the farmer’s attitude quite natural. “Poor man, I expect the ninth was a pullet and all the others were cockerels,” she commented.)
Matron inculcates politeness to each new orphan very soon after his or her arrival at the Home. It is impossible, therefore, to suspect an ulterior meaning behind the words spoken by a small newcomer after her first visit to her WVS Godmother’s home. “Thank you so very much for having me,” she said fervently to her hostess. “I've been had beautifully.”
With the weather improving and summer coming on we thought we would bring you a salad.
The Salad Clock
Make a French Salad, using cold cooked potatoes cut into rings, cooked peas, carrots and parsnips cooked and diced. Add finely sliced apple and chopped gherkin and mix well with salad cream.
Place on a large serving platter and have layer of dressing on top smoothed over to represent face of a clock. Cut two hard- boiled eggs into twelve slices and place them equally round the face of the clock. Cut Roman numerical figures out of strips of any vegetable but if beetroot is used do not place it in position until the last minute as the colour runs.
Use two sticks of celery to represent the hands of the clock. Frame with slices of tomato alternating with cucumber - or chopped ham and sliced sausage.
Posted by Matthew McMurray at 00:00
Monday, 20 April 2015.
bright Young things,
Spinach and beet,
centre organiser ,
This month’s extract from the diary of a centre organiser and recipe comes from the WVS Bulletin, March 1950:
We were a little surprised when Mrs. Forth-Wright asked to be enrolled as a W.V.S. Godmother: she did not seem as though she would be particularly sympathetic with children. However, she “took on” another member’s godchild yesterday (during the member’s illness) and it seems to have been a great success. “The little boy spent such a long time looking out of the window in the evening - it was a glorious sunset, wasn’t it? - that I asked him what he was up to, "she told us to-day.“ And do you know what he answered?” She paused expectantly. “He said:
'I’m watching God put away the day.’ ”
There have been unusually large sales of saccharine from our Hospital Trolley Shop lately, and to-day one of the helpers said jokingly to one of the old ladies : “Another packet! You had one last week. However many saccharines do you put in each cup of tea?” “ Eh ?”, demanded the old lady. The member repeated the question in louder tones and the old lady chuckled. “Tea ?” she said. “I don’t put ’em in my tea, I suck ’em!” Matron, hastily consulted, was reassuring as to the harmlessness of this - surely most unusual ? - practice.
The proverbially exaggerated “fishing” stories cannot, surely, compare with the wartime tales exchanged by W.V.S. members when they get together nearly five years after the cessation of hostilities they are still at it ! “It was our job to empty the dustbins,” one member told another. “You’d be astonished if you knew what people throw away - even in wartime. We made nearly £200 from the sale of things we salvaged.” “Not very pleasant work.” another member suggested. “Well, no,” the first one had to admit. “But even the maggots in the old bones came in useful: small boys used to ask us for them... they used them as fishing bait !
1 egg 1 teaspoon baking pdr.
1/4 lb. flour 1/4 lb. cornflour 2 oz. margarine 1 tablespoon sugar
Sieve dry ingredients. Rub in margarine, then work in egg yolk to make stiff dough. Roll out to flan tin size and bake in a good oven. Cool.
Fill with cooked forced rhubarb, thickened with arrowroot and sweetened to taste - cooled. Then beat up the white of egg stiffly, fold in 1 tablespoon caster sugar. Spread this over the rhubarb and finally sprinkle with sugar. Brown very lightly in a cool oven.