Silver buttons

This article is something of a follow-up to the one on Leadenhall Market, so, if you have not read the “London Markets” item published on the 18^th February 2019, may I suggest that you read that one first before continuing with this one?

I was recruited by Barclays Bank International Ltd (BBI) in the early 1970s and in my career with BBI and Barclays Bank plc served mostly in City branches and Head Office departments.  Barclays Bank International - at the time – carried out the Barclays Group’s overseas operations, dealing mainly with international trade and relationships which is where I worked for much of my career.  Once in the Bank, I started to meet an essential group of staff: the Bank Messengers.

Most branches had one or two Bank Messengers, bigger branches would have a small team and Head Office buildings and Departments would have quite a large team (some allocated to a specific area and some floating).  The main duty of the messengers was to carry out a wide range of roles within the Bank: reception and security for some buildings, lots of hand delivery of urgent items, getting clearing items and vouchers collected from and delivered to the right areas for processing and something of a Mr Fix-It in the branch where they were based.  The messengers were predominantly male when I started work for BBI but, by the time that I left the Bank, there were quite a few ladies carrying out that role.

Some of the Bank messengers working in 54 Lombard Street were very much “on parade” and two groups would wear frock coats to carry out their duties.  Those working on the main reception area by the “Golden Gates” and those working on the sixth floor where the Directors, the Chairman and the Board Room were established.  The long-tailed frock coats and waist-coat looked very smart and were adorned with six silver buttons bearing the Spread Eagle crest of the Bank.

I am very grateful indeed to BARCLAYS GROUP ARCHIVES for providing me with the following two images for this article.  The first picture is of one of the messenger team opening the “Golden Gates” the main entrance to 54 Lombard Street, the branch and the Head Office building for the Barclays Group at the time.

The second picture is of two of the messengers in their full finery in (I think) the old City Directors Office in 54 Lombard Street.

I do think that all three gentlemen look absolutely splendid and are a real credit to the Bank - thank you once again to Barclays Group Archives for their tremendous help in finding two such wonderful images.

One of the duties of the Head Office messenger was at lunch-time.  The Directors, in those days, had lunch in the Board Room and the messengers waited at table for them.  They took it in turns to be on the rota and (in a couple of Departments that I worked in) I knew three or four messengers who would suddenly drop whatever they were doing at mid-day and get kitted out in their official frock coat etcetera and move off pretty sharply to the Board Room to serve the Directors their lunches, returning to base later in the afternoon.

At that time, the Bank had its own catering division in the City of London, providing for staff and executives in a number of buildings.  There was a full range of facilities ranging from little tea and coffee bars, to self-service and waitress-service restaurants and bars.  Recently, I have been musing whether, when I was enjoying a vegetable curry with boiled rice and mango chutney, followed by jam roly-poly pudding and custard (say), the Directors were tucking into the same menu.  My wife tells me that was very unlikely, they were probably enjoying a much more refined diet for themselves.  The only people likely to know are the messengers and the catering staff at the time.

Being in-house everything was cooked and prepared on the individual premises where the restaurant was located so everybody who ate there could get a fresh meal each day.  Then, inevitably, one of the big catering companies took over the contract for catering for the Barclays Group and it was no longer the same any more.

But I am wondering just what the Directors once had for their lunches and if any of the frock-coated messengers reading this who served them in those by-gone days might know the answer. I would love to know.

They were not always about – the Bank messengers – as they were often so busy.  I do remember, vividly, the afternoon of my 21^st birthday when nobody else was available, walking down Lombard Street on a bright, sunny afternoon with a Bankers’ Payment for over a million pounds in my pocket – to deliver to another bank!

It is Deolali really, not Doolally.

Three cheers for the British squaddie.

He has served all around the world in major theatres of war and many little backwaters, but wherever he is, he will imprint his stamp on the area in his own inimitable fashion.

Thus in France: the city of Ypres becomes “Wipers”; 

in southern Malta: Siggiewi becomes “Ciggie-Wiggie” 

and in India: Deolali becomes “Doolally”.

Deolali is in Maharashtra province in western India and, for a long time it was the site of a British Army transit camp in the days of the Raj.   (Nowadays, the Indian Army has an artillery firing range at nearby Devlali so it still has a military connection.)  Soldiers or units of soldiers were sent to Deolali camp when they had finished an assignment or posting and waited there for orders to be cut for their next posting.

They waited … and waited.  Often waiting so long, with very little to do, they went crazy.  Tap is the Hindu word for fever and “Deolali Tap” is the term applied to any soldier who has waited too long and has gone feverish with the frustration.

My Grandfather Holland served with the South Staffordshire Regiment during the Great War or the war to end all wars (it was not until much later that it was called the First World War), he served in Egypt and India, finishing up in Deolali Camp.  I have before me now his silver cigarette case, inscribed inside:

 A Memento

 From the

 PALSAWALLAH

 Deolali 1919

It looks as if Grandfather did not get back to Blighty (from the Hindu Bilayati meaning foreign and used in the Great War to refer to England or getting back to England) for quite a while after the end of hostilities.  I do not think he was badly affected by the experience though as I remember him as quite a sensible gentleman as he grew older.

The photograph is of my two Grandfathers’ 1914 – 1918 Service medals awarded for that conflict (my Grandfather Allcock’s military service was with the Royal Artillery). 

Now, if you know anybody who is a bit addled, barmy, bonkers, crazy, crackers, cracked, cuckoo, gone with the fairies, potty and so on – you can add this to the repertoire: gone Doolally or Doolally Tap.

But, please, spell it: D - E - O - L - A - L – I.  Thank you.