Cracking the Whip

Today

In a recent letter my sister was commenting that her place of work scans and shreds every document so that there's hardly a scrap of paper in the place. A far cry from the Inland Revenue (HMRC) with its rooms full of files, she said.

In My Day

When I worked in the Inland Revenue the system was that a file was created for every taxpayer. In the PAYE section there was also a card on which the basic tax code and annual P60 details were entered. The cards sat in "hods" which lived in the desk drawers of the officer dealing with the relevant cases. The files were placed in huge shelves. When I worked at Eastbourne these shelves were all down the centre of the main office.

Now, for the vast majority of PAYE taxpayers, the files were never looked at again. The tax was collected by the employers and the P60 details were entered annually on the cards. A quick check was made that the amount collected was correct within a given tolerance and that was that. Very efficient, PAYE is.

In 1984 the powers that be woke up to the fact that across the country enormous amounts of valuable office space was devoted to these useless files. This was before scanning so Head Office was reluctant just to chuck everything out. However, they did have access to central space at their sorting office in Kew. So it was decided that a rolling programme of file clearance was to take place. Guidelines as to what was to stay and what was to be sent to Kew were issued, together with the time slot in which the job was to be completed.

At Eastbourne our slot was about ten days before Christmas. The job was given to the clerical staff on PAYE and was simply piled on top of their everyday work with no provision for overtime or extra staff. I was the manager in charge of the PAYE administration group. I looked thoughtfully at my grumpy team. Clearly they were going to drag their heels over this one and I would have to become some kind of mule-driver wielding a whip, not a prospect I relished.

I marched into the inspector's office. "Permission to consume alcohol in the office" I requested. He was a mild man so he merely blinked and said OK. I went back to my team. "Right!" I said "This is what we're going to do"

I went out to buy wine and mince pies. Then I rolled up my sleeves and got cracking alongside the clerical assistants with the sorting and movement of the files into great crates. At coffee and tea breaks we had wine and mince pies. The job went with a swing, was done in half the time and I never once had to get out my whip.

Within two years the computerisation of PAYE had been completed so the files and cards became redundant anyway. And hardly anybody works in local offices any more.

I guess that is more efficient than the days when on officer could easily have six hundred pieces of unanswered post sitting on their desk, but I personally still feel hesitation about throwing out paper documents and devote quite a bit of my space at home to storing them.

Waistcoat

Today

I'm in the process of making a waistcoat for my brother-in-law. He bought one off "Handmade by Julia" but had failed to take into account the fact that, like all of us, he's not as slender as he used to be. So I'm making another one.

I have several waistcoat patterns and when I pulled out the one I'm going to make I found myself reminiscing about the first time I used it.

In My Day

Like many of my creations, the idea for the garment came first from the fabric. Back in 1999 I'd picked up a remnant of foil-printed cloth with a design of metallic musical notes. "That's ideal for a waistcoat for David!" I thought. I found a pattern with a rather swanky low-cut front with curved collar and set to work.

I'd never used foil-printed fabric before and quickly discovered that a: it's very slippery and b: it's slightly see-through. Pas de probleme - I would just interface it. However, I only had white interfacing in my stock and the design was printed onto black. 

It was a few days before Christmas and I was working in Bath. So I nipped out to the local fabric shop to buy what I needed. The shop was off the main road and had a high step to get into the front door. I bought my interfacing, enjoyed a jolly chat with other fabric inspired ladies and turned to go. Alas! My foot slipped on the steep and slippery marble step and I sprawled onto the pavement inelegantly. 

I knew straightaway that standing up would be a bad idea. A small crowd gathered asking if I was OK? No. I was not. The lady from the shop kept popping out to offer me cushions, water, tea. Eventually I replied firmy - "Would you just please call for an ambulance?" She scuttled off to do this. A kind passer-by crouched down in the damp and cold and gently elevated my leg, resting it on her knee. A curious bystander asked if she was practising Chinese healing. "No", she said "I'm holding up her leg!"

I was taken to the hospital where an x-ray revealed that I had fractured my right navicular bone and sprained the ankle; a very painful combination. The plaster was removed after a couple of days, so that I could treat the sprain with frozen peas.

Well, you might ask, did David get his waistcoat in time for Christmas? The answer is yes. I managed by working at it over frequent very short periods, resting when the action of my foot on the machine pedal was too painful.

And I believe he still has it, although it was later recycled for some event or other by covering the crotchet-covered fabric with a bright shiny leprechaun green, a style of which I'm not so fond.

I wish I'd known the name of the kind lady who held my foot up out of the cold and wet. I'd like to thank her.

Degree of Separation

Today

Carmen has just started her trial run at nursery. After more than ten months at home, it's a big step. Sometimes, things long in the planning have more capacity to create anxiety than last-minute decisions.

There was a discussion on Facebook in which other mothers shared how they felt on their child's first day away. "I can't remember", was my contribution, "I just lumbered on from day to day".

In My Day

I had neither the protection of generous maternity leave legislation, nor the money to take much time off after Lizzie was born.

I had taken the full three months then allowed by the Civil Service, but Lizzie's late arrival meant I actually only had two weeks' paid leave left when she was born. I took a month's unpaid but then it was straight back to work.

I had no particular system or routine in place, I barely knew my baby, and was so tired that I think I often felt quite sick. Thank goodness that Lizzie was an all-night sleeper! I also had very little technological help. I splurged my maternity allowance on a spin-dryer but had no washing machine. Every morning the dirty nappies would go in a bucket of Napisan and the previous day's clothes soaked in detergent. Nappies were less efficient than they are today, so there was often a wet sheet as well. My first job when I got home from work was to rinse and spin the nappies and clothing. I did this before we ate.

It was just a question of doing what I had to do; there was no room to worry about my baby. I found her a great childminder and kept my eyes fixed firmly forwards. I don't remember feeling hard-done by; in fact I don't remember feeling anything at all. I did, indeed, just lumber on.

I don't feel any resentment about this; I just marvel that I did it at all and that my Lizzie was unharmed by it all. And I feel very happy that today's mothers' and babies' needs are properly recognised by legislation and employers alike.

Biassed

Today

Today has all been about bias. Not the political kind, but related to fabrics. I needed some wide bias binding to edge some seat covers I'm making, but the local shop could only provide 25mm wide and I need at least 50mm so as to house the elastic.

Then I found myself ridiculously confused trying to cut out an envelope-style bias cut cushion cover, as though I'd never cut on the cross before.

"Bias" in sewing means cutting at a 45 degree angle to the grain of the fabric. Woven fabric is basically a grid.of threads at 90 degrees, with the "grain" being the warp, running down the length of the piece.

In My Day

When I was at college learning about theatrical costumes, I was told that in the 12th century dresses were cut on the bias without other shaping to give that sensuous Guinevere look. I'm not sure now how much of this is true and how much is just down to artistic licence.

I learnt that the even more sensuous look of fashion in the 1930's was down to bias cut, enabling the garments to cling and drape at the same time. You can use bias cut fabric to give beautiful cowl necklines which have no bulk, and bias cut satin unforgivingly clings to each and every curve.

When I made corsets, using a combination of bias on the more stretchy side panels and straight on the stiff fronts allowed me to produce curvaceous corsets of the type worn on the 1840's. 

By the time I went to Eastbourne teacher training college to train to teach needlework I had more or less worked out when it could be used to advantage.

The tutor in charge of dressmaking was affectionately know an "Auntie Vi". She was a rather Victorian type of lady who set strict standards and rules and would probably have had us stitching samplers if she had been allowed. I don't think she was used to having students who had done more than "A" level needlework and I guess she found me hard work.

Inevitably she had her favourite student, a diligent, neat, rather self-righteous girl who was never seen at student parties. One day she wandered in to the sewing room where I was busy cutting out a dress for myself. She watched in disbelief as I laid the bodice pieces on the bias. Eventually she could restrain herself no longer and gave me a short lecture on how Auntie Vi said that the centre front should always be on the straight grain. I listened, than gave her a short lecture on the principles of cutting across the grain. Here is a picture of me wearing the dress - see how nicely it fits my top half without the need for darts or other shaping!

I may still be able to remember the principles of bias cutting, but I wouldn't mind a bias in favour of being as slim as I was then!