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On the way to a holiday in Devon, on the G.W.R., it was quite exciting to see, above the grey striped upholstered seats, in the swaying carriages, pictures of various views in sepia prints, framed in glass. The Harbour at Torquay, the sands at Paignton, and gardens resplendent with floral clocks, all were images of the wonderful times ahead, for a week, or possibly for a whole fortnight, when the train finally stopped at its destination, and lucky children and their parents stepped down through the steam on to the platform. Their suitcases followed, somewhat shabby from being stored from one year to the next in dusty attics, duly strapped around with real leather straps, a little worn on the buckles, to prevent the new sundresses and sandals for the beach, from falling out, if the rusty locks finally gave way. Off the happy crowds would set, carrying macs as you never knew if it would rain when strolling through the small seaside towns, or bravely facing the sea on the sometimes windy drizzle of the Promenade. In the often remote Guest Houses, which promise "only five minutes from the sea", the visitor was again regaled by pictures on the walls of the invariably faded flower wallpaper, of rather wistful spaniels being hugged by equally melancholy children. Or there were sailing ships forever sailing in rough waters, with a violent storm threatening to send rain and as much else as it could, on to the luckless vessel.
In the dining rooms of the more well-to-do and refined establishments, views of Victorian people could be seen, walking demurely past the Pier, sometimes at dusk, when fairy lights in graceful curves were realistically shown in hand-coloured prints. Another favourite, as the stairs were mounted at the end of another day of laughingly losing pennies on the slot machines, or being daring to have fallen for the brightly painted blackboards promising a trip around the bay, past the Point, to see the Smugglers' Caves on the far-off shore, when the boat seemed certain to be drifting out to sea, was a view of Landseer's "Monarch of the Glen", or Rembrandt's "The Laughing Cavalier". Often to introduce an air of levity and jollity befitting a holiday Guest House or Hotel, there were pictures of laughing girls in large picture hats, fingering Cameo brooches at their rather low necklines, their riotous curls and ringlets negligently left to course their way over one shoulder from which their pale pastel coloured gown had somehow carelessly slipped down over white soft arms. This fashion for displaying discreet pictures was not only confined to the seaside residences, or to while away the hours spent on a hundred miles or so train journey. The waiting rooms of Doctors and Dentists also gave the sufferer some respite from thoughts of coming treatments, with the walls showing pictures of soaring eagles over misty glens in faded Highland scenes, or a stately Heron standing on one leg by a stream, with a cascading waterfall in the background, framed in oak. Birds were the favourite subjects for waiting rooms, with gulls a'flying over seascapes, or pheasants and partridges whirring picturesquely through Autumnal tinted woodland. Sadly, the often difficult to define view or scene have now ceased to be a part of the places they once occupied, and most of them have now disappeared. Rosemary Goulding |
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page last updated 31 AUGUST 2001 |
