Drawing a curtain over the issue

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Walking my niece’s husky dogs I noticed that not many houses have net curtains any more
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A couple of houses that I saw with net curtains on my walk

Following my slightly ranty column referring to dog owners hanging poo bags on trees, I have discovered that there are solutions, thanks to my dog-owning readers who have drawn my attention to a couple of clever inventions.

One is a poop bag carrier that clips on to your dog lead, and you attach your full bags to it until you pass a bin or get back home. This means that you still have both hands free as you continue your walk. The reader said: “It’s not difficult or messy, so why doesn’t everyone do it?”

Another reader uses a compact neoprene pouch which you can clip on to your back pack or belt loop. You put the tied-up poo bag inside and zip it up to avoid unpleasant odours stalking you on the rest of your ramble. It also eliminates the yucky sensation of a full bag swinging from side to side as you walk. Although it is relatively expensive, it is fully washable and so can be used again and again.

With these kinds of solutions, is there any excuse for not cleaning up after your dog? I would genuinely like to hear the argument for hanging poo bags on trees because it is my duty, as a responsible writer, to understand every side of a story. Especially when you have no leg to stand on.

On the subject of dogs (which has been a fruitful topic of late!) I have been house-sitting for my niece, looking after her two gorgeous husky dogs while she is on her honeymoon. On one of our walks I couldn’t help but notice how few houses have net curtains.

The trusty net curtain used to be present in most houses because we wanted to nosey at what our neighbours were getting up to outside, without those neighbours noseying at what we were getting up to inside. We also wanted to prevent the ne’er-do-wells from seeing our immensely valuable possessions in case they were tempted to nick them.

Nets began to be seen in the 17th century after sheet glass replaced small pieces of glass set within lead frames. Initially, these large pieces were expensive to produce so were available only to the rich who kept them for their best rooms. To preserve privacy while at the same time allowing the light in, net curtains were initially made of fine cotton and silk and great skill was needed to produce delicate and intricate patterns. The modern glass industry took off after a reduction in tax in the mid-19th century and the cost of glass plummeted. Soon, sheet glass became available to the less wealthy and was being seen in smaller houses. Still, it was only after man-made fabrics like nylon and polyester emerged after World War II that we began to see mass-produced net curtains. Of course, once we commoners got involved, nets stopped being posh and instead became associated with nosey parkers covertly watching what other people were doing, and the age of the ‘curtain-twitcher’ was born.

The net curtain is considered a decidedly English eccentricity by our continental friends. Having been married to a Dutchman, I know that in the Netherlands, any form of curtain across your window is seen as dodgy, as if you are trying to hide something shameful. Houses have huge living room windows with just a few plants to screen the internal goings-on from the outside world.

I do still love a curtain, though, and will not leave them open at night for anyone to peer in. But I have moved on from net curtains, as it seems have most people these days. I did see a few on my walk, but thanks to my acute detective instincts I deduced that they were in homes belonging to our more mature residents.

So why is that? Are we less worried now about people seeing in through our windows? In a world where we share the smallest details of our personal lives online, maybe we don’t feel the need for such privacy in our own homes anymore? Or is it that more CCTV cameras and sophisticated security systems mean we are less afraid of our personal possessions being on display?

What do you think dear reader?

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 26th April and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 24th April 2024.

A pint of persistence

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I’m spending more time writing in my dad’s study, and found in his files a withering rejection from Police Review Magazine in 1962, as well as a payment of £1 18s 6d for another article from 1963.

 

I’m spending more time staying with my mum in our family home, and consequently it means I can compose my columns in the very study where my dad wrote his books and articles for the last 36 years of his life.

It is a very special place and where I feel closest to him. I am surrounded by books, magazines and pamphlets that he collected over the years as well as his substantial set of filing cabinets. The folders inside are crammed with clippings that he took from newspapers and other publications with the idea that one day he might use a nugget of useful information contained therein.

In all, there are four big cabinets and each one is stuffed full. Of course, he established his filing system way before the world wide web was invented to provide instant answers to questions and queries he might have. But long after the internet became the norm, he maintained that his bespoke filing system held information that you simply would not be able to find online.

He could have been right, and I will no doubt discover if that’s true the more time I spend in his study. But even if he isn’t, there is something uniquely satisfying about physically rifling through files, inhaling the scent of old cuttings, feeling real paper between your fingers, searching in hopeful anticipation that you might uncover something special hidden away. 

You have to know how my dad’s mind worked to be able to understand his quirky way of cataloguing his cuttings collection. If you assume logic will help you find your way around, then you are mistaken. He came up with a system that involved numbers from one to 183 accompanied by an alphabetical card index. If you go to the cabinet with files 43 to 62.2, you will discover that folder 50 is called ‘Christmas’, which sits in front of folder 50.1 which is about Christmas trees, which in turn sits in front of 50.2 which is about mistletoe and 50.3 which is about candles. All well and good, as those are all themed around the festive season, which does make sense. 

But then we get to folder 51, which is labelled ‘Wells’ (the ones that contain water, not the city), 52 is labelled ‘Swans’, 53 is ‘Northern Ireland’, 54 is ‘Stars, the Sky and Planets’, 55 is ‘Apples’ and 56 is ‘Bridges’. So there is no sense in trying fathom if the files are grouped in a logical order, they are not. You have to refer to his extensive handwritten card index to make sense of it all and it might take you a good few minutes to locate what you are looking for. It is satisfyingly old-fashioned and I have no doubt that the contents will be a reflection of the passage of time, a historical record of events, trends, fashions and the like spanning the 60 years or so of Dad’s writing career 

I mentioned earlier the hope of finding something special hidden away, and as a result of writing this column, I did! When I had a good rummage in folder number 50 (‘Christmas’), hidden among the mountain of clippings was an original typed copy of an article he wrote in October 1962. It was about Christmas motorists from the point of view of a traffic policeman. It was rejected by at least seven different publications, but the most withering came from Police Review Magazine.

‘Dear Mr Walker,’ it said, ‘We doubt whether “Motorists – Through the Eyes of a Policeman” tells our readers anything they do not know already. It should really be read by members of the public, not by the Police. We are returning the manuscript in the hope that you will submit it elsewhere.’

Ouch! But as a man who had 13 full novels rejected before his first was published in 1967, this condescending response certainly wouldn’t have put Dad off, rather it would have fuelled his determination. And sure enough, I found another article from the following year about the traditions and history behind the celebration of Christmas, very much in the vein of what you might read had he been writing today.

This 1500-word piece was published in the Ripon Gazette and Observer, and Dad was paid the princely sum of £1 18s 6d (£1.92½p), a price that may just have covered a couple of celebratory pints down the pub.

Read more at countrymansdaughter.com. Follow me on Twitter @countrymansdaug

This column appeared in the Darlington and Stockton Times on 28th and Ryedale Gazette and Herald on 26th October 2022