the book: Black Banner Players by Geoffrey Trease
[Two families have joined forces for Christmas in a small town in the Lake District]
“I’m dying to get to the real presents,” Sue whispered… “I do hope Penny will like her nylons.”
Both girls had just reached a stage in their lives when stockings – until recently a tedious bore, only to be worn under compulsion – had suddenly become one of the most important elements in their existence. I had heard about these blessed nylons until I was sick of them. For some reason which I could never fathom, the great thing was to have stockings so fine that nobody could tell you had any one at all, except by looking at an ugly line up the back of your leg which was specially provided to prove that you had. These were in such demand, apparently, that the shop would sell only one pair to each customer. It showed the nobility of Sue’s nature that she was giving Penny her own allocation.
[Later] A few moments later Sue let out such a scream that we paused in our unpacking to inquire what had bitten her. “Penny! You angel!” She was flaunting a pair of almost invisible stockings. I suppose the result would have been the same if each girl had kept the pair she had bought – but they certainly wouldn’t have been beaming on each other with such starry-eyed benevolence.
observations: How I wish I’d found this before writing my recent Guardian article on stockings and nylons in books: it would have fitted in perfectly.
I have been searching these books (a YA series from the 1950s) for an elusive mention of tangerine slacks (thanks to Lydia Syson and see this entry): they didn’t turn up in this book, but no complaints **, it was still a joy to read, even apart from the nylons reference. The young people we are following in the series form an amateur dramatic group, and there is a real joy in reading about their taking their show to the far reaches of the Lake District, remote places in a time when TV was in its infancy and cinemas far–distant, where the whole village will turn out for the show. And it might be hard to get back late at night across fells, mountains and rivers. There is an adventure concerning a historic notebook, and narrator Bill gets caught up in a vanity publishing scam.
I mentioned before that the books can be surprising. Trease was trying to pitch it in a middle ground that many of his readers might expect to recognize: not boarding school and young toffs, and not slumming it with the Family from One End Street. For sure, I can still remember my utter surprise when I read the first one many years ago – in which the narrator explains that their father has left the family, the mother is bringing them up alone, and no Dad’s not going to be coming back in the final chapter. That, hard though it may be to believe, was completely unprecedented in the books of the time.
I was also surprised that a waffle iron is given as a Xmas present.
**The entry on the tangerine trousers is here.
published 1952
LOOKING AT WHAT GOES ON UNDER THE CLOTHES
[Two families have joined forces for Christmas in a small town in the Lake District]
“I’m dying to get to the real presents,” Sue whispered… “I do hope Penny will like her nylons.”
Both girls had just reached a stage in their lives when stockings – until recently a tedious bore, only to be worn under compulsion – had suddenly become one of the most important elements in their existence. I had heard about these blessed nylons until I was sick of them. For some reason which I could never fathom, the great thing was to have stockings so fine that nobody could tell you had any one at all, except by looking at an ugly line up the back of your leg which was specially provided to prove that you had. These were in such demand, apparently, that the shop would sell only one pair to each customer. It showed the nobility of Sue’s nature that she was giving Penny her own allocation.
[Later] A few moments later Sue let out such a scream that we paused in our unpacking to inquire what had bitten her. “Penny! You angel!” She was flaunting a pair of almost invisible stockings. I suppose the result would have been the same if each girl had kept the pair she had bought – but they certainly wouldn’t have been beaming on each other with such starry-eyed benevolence.
observations: How I wish I’d found this before writing my recent Guardian article on stockings and nylons in books: it would have fitted in perfectly.
I have been searching these books (a YA series from the 1950s) for an elusive mention of tangerine slacks (thanks to Lydia Syson and see this entry): they didn’t turn up in this book, but no complaints **, it was still a joy to read, even apart from the nylons reference. The young people we are following in the series form an amateur dramatic group, and there is a real joy in reading about their taking their show to the far reaches of the Lake District, remote places in a time when TV was in its infancy and cinemas far–distant, where the whole village will turn out for the show. And it might be hard to get back late at night across fells, mountains and rivers. There is an adventure concerning a historic notebook, and narrator Bill gets caught up in a vanity publishing scam.
I mentioned before that the books can be surprising. Trease was trying to pitch it in a middle ground that many of his readers might expect to recognize: not boarding school and young toffs, and not slumming it with the Family from One End Street. For sure, I can still remember my utter surprise when I read the first one many years ago – in which the narrator explains that their father has left the family, the mother is bringing them up alone, and no Dad’s not going to be coming back in the final chapter. That, hard though it may be to believe, was completely unprecedented in the books of the time.
I was also surprised that a waffle iron is given as a Xmas present.
**The entry on the tangerine trousers is here.
More Xmas entries all over the blog - click on the labels below.
Moira - Oh, this does sound fun! And the snippet you shared about the stockings reminds me of Agatha Christie's Cards on the Table, where Poirot raises eyebrows at a shop when he purchases nineteen pairs of silk stockings. Oh, and stockings figure into The ABC Murders too.
ReplyDeleteYou are so right Margot - I bet you could do a whole blogpost on stockings in murder stories.... And I liked this story for showing the charming absurdity of Xmas - as the narrator says, they could just have bought themselves a pair of their own. But that wouldn't be half as nice to read about.... And, how interesting that they were rationed by shops, one pair per customer.
DeleteMoira, I'm looking forward to my Christmas stocking which, hopefully, will contain some nice books.
ReplyDeleteI hope so too - probably a much more sensible stocking to have!
DeleteMoira: Different eras have excitement in different ways over clothes. Would young women today know what nylons are?
ReplyDeleteI am not so surprised about the Christmas waffle iron present. A few years ago Sharon gave our younger son a Kitchen Aide mixer to help him with his baking.
Lucky son - that's quite some present! the reason I was surprised was that waffles weren't really part of British life in that era, I would have said. I grew up a good few years after this book was set, but no-one I knew ever had waffles or had heard of them, let alone having a waffle iron. It was something that was introduced into fancy cafes when I was in my teens - not a home thing at all....
DeleteThis series sounds interesting but I doubt I will add it to my piles. I do enjoy your posts about the books, and especially this one about nylons.
ReplyDeleteQuite likely it would be hard to find in the US anyway - they're not that easily available here now, which is a pity.
DeleteSorry another pass......I think I'd be more amused by finding a 60 year old waffle than this one!
ReplyDeleteNo nylons in your own Xmas stocking then?
DeleteNo.....just the usual lump of coal and a satsuma
DeleteLuxury, we'd have been thrilled with that when I were a girl.
Delete