WOMEN AND THE HOME

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18805, 6 July 1929, Page 22 (Supplement)

WOMEN AND THE HOME

MOTHER AND HOME,

The cleaning of upholstered furniture is not an easy task when one does not possess a vacuum cleaner. If one is lucky enough to have a vacuum cleaner, and especially an electric vacuum cleaner, then the thorough removal of dust and dirt from every crevice in the most handsomely upholstered furniture is quite a simple matter. The next best alternative is beating upholstered furniture in the open air. Loose covers prevent a lot of dust and dirt penetrating to the upholstery, but they must be removed occasionally for shaking and washing, and the opportunity of giving the chairs and settees a thorough overhauling should then be seized. Beat them lightly, then with a soft brush remove all surface dust. If it is impossible to remove upholstered furniture into the garden for cleaning, move it as near an open window as you can, then cover it with a clean dustsheet that has been dipped in cold water and wrung out. If the furniture is covered with damp dust-sheets while being beaten, the dust will be collected on the sheets, and will not fly about the room. Stains on upholstery may be removed by some of the patent cleaning agents, or by petrol, if thi" is used with the greatest care and out of doors, or even by dipping a clean rag in a warm, soapy • lather, wringing it very tightly, passing it gently over the stained upholstery, and then wiping it dry with another clean cloth. Do not use a wet cloth, and do not allow any water to soak through the upholstery. Finger-marks and similar blemishes on furniture can be removed with a soft cloth moistened in paraffin or household ammonia. When all the blemishes, stains and dents have been obliterated, the furniture should be thoroughly cleaned, using a mixture of warm water—one and a half pints, and two tablespoonfuls of methylated spirit. Use a small sponge, soft and clean, to wash the furniture. When it is quite dry, polish the surface well with a chamois leather pad. Perhaps the great secret of highly polished furniture is always to use the softest of dusters—and to warm it first! Vinegar is an excellent and cheap furniture polish. Dilute a little vinegar in water, damp a cloth with this and use to polish your woodwork, finishing off with a soft duster. You will be surprised at the “ Museum ” polish this gives to both old and new furniture. Vinegar is also excellent for reviving faded carpets, and is an excellent dust remover. When you have thoroughly swept or vacuumed your carpet, rub over with a coarse cloth on to which has been sprinkled some undiluted vinegar, and when dry you will find much of the colour restored to your carpets and rugs. Ways of Making Money.

The enormous increase in motor traffic has turned many a formerly quiet village into a busy holiday centre, and sleepy country lanes, along which nothing more than a few cows and market carts passed during the day, are now noisy with a perpetual stream of cars of all kinds. Many old houses with beautiful gardens, which were in quiet backwaters in the country, now find a main road running under their walls. This is naturally lamented by the own ers, and in some cases the property has lost much of its value. To women who wish to add to their income without leaving home, the fact that their gardens have now many passers-by is not unfortunate. They may, by a little ingenuity and work, be able to add considerably to their incomes. Tea gardens may be overdone in popular parts, but there are still some pretty places in the country or near the sea where really nice tea rooms would do well. A well kept garden in which tea may be served in hot weather, and an attractive room for wet and cold days, are necessary. The tea should be really good, and the cakes, scones, jam, etc., should be home-made. If providing tea is not possible, then the sale of honey or fresh eggs, dainty baskets of friiit from the garden, or home-made cakes and bread, or bottled fruit and jam, is suggested. Cut flowers command a ready sale in many places. If a large garden, well stocked with flowers, is available, a good deal of money can be made by selling bunches of fresh flowers. Vegetables are another saleable commodity. Whatever is offered for sale, it must be absolutely fresh and clean, and nicely arranged and packed. An original, readable and attractive sign, calling the attention of passers-by to the wares offered for sale, is a great help, and care should be taken to keep prices moderate.

Save left-over coffee, and to each pint add a dessertspoonful of sweet oil. Mix well and use as a furniture-polish, finishing with a dry cloth. The stronger the coffee the better.

HOME-MADE BARBOLA PASTE.

FOR MODERN DECORATIONS. (By M. HAMILTON.) Barbola paste is now being so widely used in decoration that it should be an economy to make the material at home. The process of manufacture is not an arduous one, and should come well within the scope of the handy amateur. The principal ingredient is whiting, one and a half cupsful of which should be compounded with a gill of liquid glue and a tablepoonful of linseed oil, together with the same quantity of good varnish. Mix the whiting first with the varnish, adding the rest of the ingredients slowly, till the mixture is smooth and there is no oil upon the surface. It is not ready till the paste is of a consistency that clings to the side of the basin and, when dropped from the spoon, does not readily lapse back into the mass. Otherwise it will be impossible to secure good, clean-cut results with it. A too liquid compound may be corrected by the gradual stirring in of further whit'iig. The more persistently the mixture is stirred, the better medium will it prove for manipulation. No elaborate outfit is necessary for successful barbola work. In fact, it may be improvised from various kitchen oddments, a meat skewer proving a useful tool for depressing the hearts of flowers or veining the centres of leaves. An old tin tray or pastry board will serve as a basis for the work, and the rest of the job can be accomplished with the finger-tips, as if it were a game of plasticine. The work shoul ' be carried out before the barbola paste has had a chance of hardening, and each ornament should be left for a couple of days before being coloured and varnished, so that it presents a hard surface. A quick-drying varnish is best.

EXPECTING “ THE BEST.” AND GIVING “SECOND BEST.” (By PHILIPPA KENDRICK.) Since humanity is imperfect, it follows that perfection is unattainable in any sort of human relationship. Nevertheless, human nature goes on making the most impossible demands on husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, children and friends. It suffers altogether disproportionate disappointment with every fall front grace. Each human heart sets up standards for the conduct of others from which its own weakness would quail. Love can be the most exacting and unreasoning taskmaster in the world. Only those rare folk who are hermits born, and are quite happily resigned to the loneliness of their deliberate choice, have any sort of right to profess intolerance of their kind. Those of us to whom the companionship of our fellow-creatures is essential cannot logically indulge the censorious vein. Our gregarious instincts must be content to feed on what they can; the flaws no less than the finenesses of human contacts. It is unthinkable that we should expect perpetually disinterested, high-minded affection as our portion; yet many of us act as if such were no more than our due. We make no allowances in others for the faults we ourselves are most prone to commit. When consciousness of those same imperfections in our own nature should make it easy to put ourselves in another’s place, that commendable process of soul-translation is none the less the hardest task of human attainment. To the despairing plea of a friend who has failed us: “Put yourself in my place! ” —our hearts, more often than not, are deaf as stones. We cannot achieve what should be a primary act of comradeship. If we could, there would be no such thing as disillusionment, for the illusions we cherish about ourselves would wrap their flattering veils about the rest of mankind. We should make the same allowances for our fellows as for ourselves, and tears of indignation would turn to tolerant smiles. Egoism could not survive that ability to put ourselves in each other’s places; we should cease to expect the best in return for the second-best. To see ourselves “in the true” is to see the truth about any decent friendship we are lucky enough to win. And that truth, which so shiningly emerges from all the so-called disillusionments, is that even the most fugitive sweetness of even the most imperfect of our I human relationships often exceeds our desserts.

SUCCESS WITH FLAKY PASTRY.

Good flaky pie-crut needs more care in the making than does plain short crust. A hard fat should be used, and this must be cut into the flour with two knives, or mixed in with a fork. Do not mix it very thoroughly; leave the fat in lumps, which wall roll out to make layers or flakes. I find that the quantity of fat usually given in recipes may be cut down by one-half, if desired. The dough is harder to mix, and does not seem so rich as that in which a larger amount of fat is used; but the resultant pastry is excellent. Have a hot oven for baking pastry, especially the flaky kind. Layers of cold air have been incorporated into it, and the hot oven causes this air to expand quickly, making the crust light. It is well to prick flaky paste before it is baked, otherwise it may puff too much in one place. This applies also to pastry shells for tartlets, etc. The lower crust of a pie need not, of course, be pricked. Here are two good recipes: (1) Sift together one pound of flour and one teaspoonful of salt; mix in ten ounces of fat with a fork, or cut it in with two knives (do not use the fingers), and add the required quantity of water. Roll lightly and bake quickly. (2) Mix flour and salt as above, cutting in the fat, but reserving one-quar-ter of the quantity. Roll out the dough, spread with half the reserve fat and roll up like a jelly roll; roll out again, spread with the remaining fat, and repeat the rolling process. If necessary, sprinkle with a little flour to prevent the paste from sticking.

MOONLIGHT DANCING IN DALMATIA. (By V. O. SOUTIIEE.) “There is a full moon to night, and! there are two girls in the village who . will lx? married to-morrow. They have asked their friends to dance in the moonlight. Would you care to see it r i No men are allowed; it is a girls’! party.” Dalmatian dancing is exquisite, and I the grey, bare plains of Dalmatia look like an enchanted kingdom under the moonlight. We kept vigil that night until, shortly before eleven o’clock, the innkeeper’s wife came for us and we went through the sleepy village street and on into the very heart of the grey grim rocks. “You had better keep in the shadows,” said the woman. ‘‘The girls are shy. They would not dance their best if they knew strangers were watching.” There was a curious flat opening in between two zig-zagging rocky ridges where we found a jutting boulder which provided an excellent seat. Safe in the shadows, we could see the pearl and silver scene, with mountains above, their summits now stealing into shadows, now coming to sight under the silver moonlight. Then music came, soft ripples of girlish laughter, and quick patter of sandalled feet. Red, blue and green scarves and aprons mingled with the moonlight, and life, colour and movement swept into the hitherto quiet and sombre opening. The music continued, insistent, haunting, penetrating; dancing music, the very sound of which made our own feet ache for the joy of a dance. But we kept quite still and watched. . . . Like a magic tale, the scene unfolded itself before us. Tall, lissom figures, their arms holding richly coloured scarves, swirled into the silver moonlight. It must have been one of the national dances. It had peculiar qualities of rhythm. Those girls were not merely dancing with their feet; their bodies and their very hearts were thrown into the dance, and each movement carried its own meaning. And the moon looked on. Its silver light seemed to blend itself with that curiously arrogant, graceful dancing. Then the music stopped, the innkeeper's wife emerged from the shadows and piloted us back to the hostel. We went, knowing we would never forget!

Varnished walls and paint can be cleaned with this mixture: One tablespoonful of liquid ammonia in a pailful of warm water. Dip a chamois leather in this, wash down, then squeeze the leather hard and dry the surface.

TRY THIS INSTEAD OF POTATOES.

Mix together in a bowl ingredients in the following proportions; Two tablespoonfuls of cornmeal, one tablespoonful of flour, half a teaspoonful of cream of tartar, quarter of a teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, a finely chopped onion, and salt and pepper to taste. When the dry ingredients are well blended, add a beaten egg with sufficient water to make the mixture fairly moist, turn at once into a greased basin, cover, set in a pan of boiling water, cover tightly and steam for two or three hours. Turn out and serve instead of potatoes—you will appreciate the change. “ TUBBING ” WHITE SILK. If you are washing white silk, add a spoonful of methylated spirit to the rinsing water. This simple treatment keeps the fabric a good colour.

FROM A PARISIENNE’S NOTEBOOK.

(By YVONNE RODIER.) The latest “ collections ” indicate that the waist-line is still doing its best to move upwards; that colour is to play a most important part in the season's sartorial scheme; that printed crepes are still to be much in evidence, but that the erstwhile prevalent geometrical designs are to be largely superseded by flower-printed fabrics in widely spaced and ultra-bold patterns. There is a decided feeling for the unlined coat, so that, while the ensemble consisting of dress of patterned crepe with coat-lining en suite will continue to hold its own, a new feature will be a striking gown completely covered by a slim, straight wrap in black or navy. Such coats will have no suggestion of colour on the outside; and, once removed, will ensure a little thrill of surprise in the revelation of gowns of unexpected hues. So inured have we become to the “ matching ” craze that this breakaway has all the attraction of complete novelty. Coat dresses are another phase of the exhibits. Perhaps the most original creation in this department is the black model christened “ Train Bleu.” Cut quite plain, save for decoupes that are almost imperceptibly encrusted in triangles set point downwards between the shoulders, this model is something very new in dress conceptions. It is crossed in front and buttoned in a straight line from shoulder to hem on the left side. The right side, presumably, has a second thickness of material which forms a long, straight revers from shoulder to hem, and is beautifully lined with patterned black and white crepe de chine, strapped securely at its edges with fine black strappings. The revers ends its picturesque career as a scarf hanging below the hemline, and can be turned back, or folded forwards flat so as to hide its lining. Acessories continue to follow the ensemble rule, in the sense that dresses and coats have bags and gloves especially designed for them. The morning ensemble is accompanied by a bag of morocco feather, with matching gloves and shoes in kid or suede. Evening shoes match the dress, and the bag may be in a harmonising old brocade. As to jewellery, silver is to the fore, chased in patterns copied from Eastern ornaments, and predicting a vogue of silver combs, anklets and bracelets. Matching jewellery craftsmanship is as much in demand as ever, and all stones of the value of amber and jade are being used. Decorative buttons for day wear fulfil their trimming role on checked and plaided materials. Such buttons range from silver metal, gilt and silver-gilt, to coloured composite that matches fabrics.