The Hatton Garden Job – a dry run?

In 1987 (the year of Hurricane Fish) and early 1988, I was on attachment to Barclays Bank’s Edgware Road Branch / Business Centre for a few months.  The branch is in a parade of shops and flats on the Edgware Road about fifteen to twenty minutes brisk walk from Marble Arch and the temptations of Oxford Street.  The branch is on the southern end of the parade and was set out, as far as I can remember, at the time, with a banking hall and some customer services on the ground floor.  The strong room was in the basement.  The machine room and various management offices were on the first floor.  On the second floor were a number of Personal and Corporate Sector departments, all the Relationship Managers’ offices and the Business Centre Director’s office.  Behind this, were all the staff facilities for this floor (kitchen and rest rooms) and a large free-standing strong-room.

 

This strong-room (internally about 2 ½ by about 2 ½ metres as far as I can remember - which was quite capacious) was in an area that bank customers do not normally see.  But some customers (or workers) did see it, and the large door with the usual dual combination locks.  Well, somebody obviously talked about it to somebody who listened very carefully or somebody overheard the conversation, started to put two and two together and made a plan for an audacious raid.  There were two fatal flaws to this plan and I will come to these later.

 

I do not know how long it took for the bank robbers to make their preparations, but one day (after a Bank Holiday weekend), the early-morning team came in to discover all the damage.

 

The robbers had got access to one of the flats which shared a party wall with Barclays’ offices and broke through this wall to get into the bank’s premises.  They then set to work on the top floor strong-room using sledge hammers, chisels and (I presume) other heavy duty power tools to break in.  They did not get in.  Even though they inflicted tremendous damage to the concrete wall, they did not get through the net of steel rods embedded in the structure of the wall.   The steel framework held firm and the robbers - who did not appreciate the massive strength of the wall - had to leave completely empty-handed.

 

I do not know whether any of the robbers were caught and brought to justice as I moved on to another branch shortly after this and then to a Head Office department – but you do wonder whether some of them might have been in the same gang that carried out the Hatton Garden job some years later in 2015; it was much the same plan that they carried out.

 

The two flaws?  Well, I have mentioned the first of these, they did not appreciate the construction of the strong-room and their tools were not adequate to the task of breaking through the walls.  Secondly, a mistake made by many thieves over time, there was no money, bullion, jewels or anything portable and of value in the strong-room.  The contents of the strong-room were composed entirely of security documents (guarantees and deeds over land and buildings for instance), so they could not be sold to anybody.  Yes, it would have been very difficult to re-construct any stolen security documents, but the thieves would not have been able to make anything from their theft.

 

I know that I have been the victim of crime and it was a devastating experience each time.  Criminals steal huge amounts of money each year; but it is a truly wonderful experience to witness them fail to get away with anything at all!

Please, Sir, may I have some more?

A couple of articles on the BBC Radio News last year (2019) piqued my interest.  One of them was about the Flexitarian Diet and the other was about how cattle, particularly cows,

generate high levels of Methane gas – a significant contributor to global warming.

The first article discussed how much was made of the Flexitarian diet in 2019, when it started to attract a great deal of attention in diet rankings; it being a way of life espousing a flexible approach to vegetarianism.  The diet being predominantly vegetables but not precluding eating a limited range of meat.

Now where have we seen this sort of diet before?  Got it, the Ministry of Food’s Second World War national rationing programme.  The scientists who devised the rations for UK citizens during the war would recognise all elements of the Flexitarian diet although the 1940’s diet reflected all that was available at the time.  Really, this is not much “new” but a fresh, healthy, varied and flexible approach to a daily diet.

Incidentally, Churchill attended a dinner at Claridge’s Hotel during the War where all the guests were served Woolton Pie, he spurned it, pushed it away and said “Bring me some meat.”  They did.

At the end of the war, the UK population was very lean and healthy, very few people were overweight, but everybody was hungry a lot of the time so nothing was wasted and if a bar of chocolate was left lying around - it would not last long!

Secondly, the special report on climate and land by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) describes plant-based diets as a major opportunity for mitigating and adapting to climate change ― and includes a policy recommendation to reduce meat consumption.

“We don’t want to tell people what to eat,” said Hans-Otto Pörtner - an ecologist who co-chairs the IPCC’s working group on impacts, adaptation and vulnerability - in interviews during 2019. “But it would indeed be beneficial, for both climate and human health, if people in many rich countries consumed less meat, and if politics would create appropriate incentives to that effect.”

Similarly, if countries take action to completely refresh the way in which they farm cattle or move away from a predominantly meat-eating culture it may be possible to really change the impact of meat-farming methods.  We need to change, that much is agreed, but precisely how far we need to move is still subject to a great deal of debate.

Once again this makes me think of the scientists working on the nation’s diet and rations during the Second World War.  What they were concerned with was delivering a specified portion of calories onto the population’s plates every day of the week.  They calculated the area of land available across the entire country, along with the financial cost and the quantity of fodder used to deliver a specific number of calories each day to everybody in the nation.  Their aim was to ensure that everybody had sufficient food and this was delivered as economically as possible.

A major problem that they faced was that certain breeds of cattle needed much more land than others for grazing and cost much more in terms of veterinary and feeding expenses.  I believe that decisions were made then not to breed certain cattle during the war and concentrate solely on those that gave the maximum benefit.  In short, a number of breeds probably disappeared completely and some are now regarded as “Rare Breeds” and farmers have been trying to build up their stocks from a very small base.

We went to a Rare Breeds farm once in North Wales.  Mrs A stroked a Jacob Sheep in the big field, then a Shetland pony wandered over while we were enjoying the view and started trying to eat my wife’s shoe.  I do not know what they were feeding them on – the grass looked luscious to me!

Recommended reading:

Laura DAWES:           “Fighting Fit – The Wartime Battle for Britain’s Health”. Weidenfield & Nicholson – Paperback edition 2017.

A couple of hyperlinks to two BBC items that are informative reading:

Control - Click here for Link to: "Meat - a Threat to our Planet" on the BBC

And Control - Click here for Link to BBC Health report on the Flexitarian Diet

Oh! Is that the time?

Back in the Eighteenth Century when Lord Dandy-Lyon decided to commission a clock for Ragwort Hall, his palatial estate in the country, he would have visited a specialist clock-maker to have it designed and made to order.  It might be a long-case clock for the hallway or a tower clock to be installed above the stable block.  But, whatever, the situation, it could be the first clock to be set up at his home that was both reliable and accurate (many clock-makers might disagree).  How then, to get the time right?  There are no radios giving time pips every hour and no other reliable clocks for any number of miles.  The answer is simple, the clock-makers will make his Lordship a sundial to go with the clock.  The clock-makers will check the exact location of Ragwort Hall, work out its Latitude (degrees North or South of the Equator) and design a sundial with the Gnomon fixed at the correct angle.  When this is set up properly (and is pointing due North) its shadow will show LOCAL time whenever the sun is shining.  That way, his Lordship, or his trusty servants, will be able to check the clock time periodically.

Local time is significant because, until the arrival of the railways and the telegraph system of communications, noting the time was a local matter and what time it was on the other side of the country was of no concern.  To demonstrate this: the Longitude for Land’s End is 5° 4' 4.2" West (of Greenwich) and for Lowestoft it is 1° 45' 5.72" East; which means that (according to my calculations) Local Noon {1} in Lowestoft is 29 minutes and 48 seconds earlier than Local Noon in Land’s End.

Memo to Lord Dandy-Lyon: “Train your servant before you Trust your servant.”

Royal Collection Trust / © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2020

Move forward now to the early Nineteenth Century and imagine yourself aboard a Royal Navy Battleship – the HMS Vulcan.  Captain Fearless and his officers will be on the quarter-deck (precursor to a modern-day ship’s bridge); one side will be the Captain’s territory and the other side for his Lieutenants, the time is fast approaching mid-day.  Almost all of the officers will have their sextant with them and will be using this to get a sighting of the Sun and the horizon to determine when it has reached its highest point, making it mid-day, and the angle between the Sun, the ship and the horizon.  When the officers have agreed between themselves, the First Lieutenant will approach the Captain and advise that they make it Noon, the Captain will agree and thus Noon it is.  Bells will be rung, hourglasses will be turned and the ship’s new day will officially begin.  The navigators, at this point, will be charging down to the chart-room with their calculations and will proceed to plot their location.

The navigators would use their charts, Nautical Almanacs and chronometer (set accurately to display the time at Greenwich {2} or their base port throughout their voyage) to determine their position at sea (Latitude and Longitude) and bearing.  Then they can advise the Captain of their progress and position.  Obviously, as it takes a while to collect their observations and make their calculations, they cannot pinpoint their exact position at sea, but they will be fairly close.

Nowadays, however, fixing the position of ships and planes can be carried out at any time, regardless of cloud cover (which can stymie sextants), using modern satellite technology and time measurement.  Time is measured now by the vibration of caesium atoms and this is regarded scientifically as the most precise means possible of maintaining accuracy. 

In Great Britain, Greenwich Mean Time and British Summer Time are the two official times used. Whereas overseas, Co-ordinated Universal Time - which, to the layman, is effectively the same as GMT - is the standard for setting timekeeping around the world - and in manned space vessels.

With all this accuracy, you can check the time, to a fraction of a second, at any time, night or day.  But, do we really care about the exact time?  Ask somebody what the time is and, as like as not, they may say “Oh, about a quarter past seven.”  Which gives plenty of leeway!  But, if you are racing to catch a train or are a pub landlord about to announce “Time, gentlemen, please!” then the exact time is critical.

We have four mechanical clocks and one battery clock in our living room, each of which is true unto itself and we love them all, their ticking, their chimes and observing their intricate movements are a joy to hear and to behold.

--------------------------------

 {1} Noon – or mid-day – is the precise moment that the Sun is at its highest point in the sky that day.  If you are in the Northern Hemisphere, the Sun will be to your South and your shadow (pointing North) will be shorter than at any other time in the day.  The Sun will never be directly overhead, unless you live in the Tropics. 
The Tropic of Cancer is 23ﹾ 28’ North of the Equator and Capricorn is the same distance to the South.  The Latitude of Lizard Point in Cornwall is 49° 57' 19.19" North and for Eastbourne it is 50° 46' 7.36" North; thus, in the United Kingdom, we are a long way from seeing the Sun too high in the sky, being closer to the North Pole than the Equator.


 {2} In the Nineteenth Century, Greenwich Mean Time was adopted as Great Britain’s “official” time by Act of Parliament: The Statutes (Definition of Time) Act 1880.  Subsequently repealed by The Interpretation Act 1978.  British Summer Time was first enacted legally in 1922 (after being used as a temporary measure in the Great War) and British Standard Time in 1968, but these acts were repealed by The Summer Time Act 1972. 

Excellent reading:
AC GARDNER     “Teach Yourself Navigation”.  The English Universities Press Ltd – Second Edition 1973
AP HERBERT       “Sundials Old & New”.  Methuen & Co Ltd - 1967
Dava SOBELL      “Longitude – The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved the Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time”.  Fourth Estate Ltd - 1996
 

With thanks to staff at the National Archives and Worthing Library (Reference Department) for their kind guidance by pointing me in the right direction in my researches and also to staff at the Royal Collection Trust and the British Sundial Society.

The cartoon came from the February 1994 Bulletin of the British Sundial Society; I have not been able to track down who drew it but if you know who does, please let me know and I will be delighted to acknowledge him or her.  
The cartoon is, in fact, a copy of a 19^th century drawing which is in the Royal Collection, if you would like to look at the original, please click here:  Thomas Rowlandson - 1808.

 
The Royal Collection is a vast repository of wonderful pieces of art and I would recommend using the link as a way into explore this wonderful Collection.

Zooming along the Highways – speeding along the Byways!

Well, the memory of the Duke of Edinburgh’s recent traffic accident, which was top of the news for quite a while, has now faded away.  As he had handed in his driving licence, the police decided not to proceed further and my suggestion for a new road sign in Norfolk is now redundant.

 

I was going to submit a design for a new warning sign: a white triangle with a red border and a picture of a black bowler hat inside.  Underneath would be a notice on the lines of:

Caution!
Duke’s Crossing ahead
Please drive very slowly and with extreme care for the next 500 yards.

 

Every year many drivers decide (due to illness, an accident or a bad scare on the road) to hand in their licence and sell their car.  Many of them live in remote areas of the country.

Little by little they become very restricted and have to ask

Angels, as their neighbours become, to help them to get around.

 

The Duke of Edinburgh is a very lucky chap and I wonder if he realises just how lucky he is.  If he decides he wants to pop into town, he has got a whole team of people on hand, any one of whom will drive him in and wait until he is ready to come back.  So, he can easily nip into the Post Office for some stamps and notecards, then to the greengrocer for a bag of apples, and, finally to the Market-Place Café for a pot of tea, an iced bun and a long chat with whoever is in that afternoon to catch up on all the gossip.  Then, when he wants to go home, a lift straight back and no need to apologise for taking so long or feeling beholden to the driver for his or her kindness that day.

 

It is amazing how news items suddenly get everybody all in a lather and then vanish without trace, but the underlying story has often not gone away and (not the Duke of Edinburgh of course) many riders and drivers who were formerly fully independent and mobile, living in remote areas, have to face up to a whole raft of difficulties and expense in getting around.

 

There are numerous ways to help these people and it is a shame that the Duke of Edinburgh has now retired from public life as he would be well suited to spearhead some form of action to help many more of these disadvantaged and often isolated one-time drivers.

 

However, if the driver lives fairly close to the edge of a village or town, there is a solution.  This is the MOBILITY SCOOTER to get around and about.

 

These devices come in all shapes and sizes with varying speed levels and manoeuvrability.  They can be driven without need of a licence or medical check.  Some will be seen pottering gently along the pavement and pedestrians can easily avoid these scooters.  But some drivers will tear around as if they were the only person on the pavement.  Many people can say that they have had to skip aside pretty smartly when a mobility scooter has careered around a corner in front of them speeding along the pavement.  We do not need any more legislation, there are enough laws already, but we need to slow some of these scooters down a bit!  Also, some of the drivers may be a bit ambitious, expecting their scooter to do more than it is capable of: entering some shops can be difficult if the scooter wheels are too small for the threshold and driving into the countryside could be problematical if your wheels sink into the ground and you have to be pulled free.

 

Where we used to live, in St Albans, we knew a couple of disabled ladies who each had a pretty powerful mobility scooter.  Returning from town, they would pass in front of our house and then spin round a corner to go up to their home.  Their little dog would sit in the handlebar basket of the lead scooter, front paws on the basket and ears waggling.  At this particular corner, there was a dip in the pavement and if you hit this at high speed - and these ladies always did – the scooter would bounce and their dog would fly up.  He was airborne!  He was flying!  Waggly ears flapping in the breeze.  Did he love it?  You bet he did!

Ever wondered why the HMRC Tax Year finishes on the 5th April each year? Wonder no more, please read on.

Julius Caesar:

It all starts with Julius Caesar.  No, it starts a long time before him, but he is far enough back for our purposes.  The calendar in ancient Roman times was in a complete mess.  We tend to take the calendar for granted, but it is very important to keep an accurate calendar in place for a number of reasons.  Farming, in particular is one: farmers need to know the dates so that they can prepare to carry out all their essential operations at the right times in the year.  Four important, fixed events occur during the year: the two Solstices and the two Equinoxes, these “anchor” the calendar and the seasons fit around these dates.

The winter solstice on 22^nd December is when the day is the shortest and the night is the longest;
the summer solstice on 21^st June is the longest day of the year and when the night is the shortest;

the spring (Vernal) and autumn (Autumnal) equinoxes on 20^th March and 23^rd September are when the day and the night are of equal length.
Over time, the ancient Roman calendar which had started in synchronisation with the solar (or tropical) year, being the time it takes the Earth to orbit the Sun from one Vernal Equinox to the next, had gone completely adrift and confusion reigned.

To correct this, and get the calendar back on track, Caesar commissioned philosophers, mathematicians and astronomers to measure the year length accurately.  They worked out that the year was 365 and a quarter days long which, with the mathematics of the time, was pretty close.  To correct this, they devised a system with three years of 365 days followed by one of 366 and that was imposed in 45 BC (our time) - known as the year of confusion because it was made up to 445 days long - to correct previous errors.

However, the solar year is currently 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes and 46 seconds (*).  But even this figure fluctuates all the time as the Earth wobbles in its orbit around the Sun and is tilted on its axis: which causes the seasons to follow each other over the year.  This meant that, over the years and the centuries, the calendar started to drift again.

Gradually a clamour rose to get the calendar corrected.  Mainly this was from monks and priests because they were greatly concerned that prayers were not being made on the correct days for their appropriate saints and intercessions would not be answered.

Aloysius Lilius:

Before we reach Gregory XIII’s commission to reform the calendar, this good doctor’s contribution must be acknowledged.  Lilius looked at all of the years since the Julian calendar started, compared how many days were recorded for each year with the length of that particular solar year, the variance and the cumulative variance.  This work amounts to over 1600 rows of data and cries out to be loaded on a spreadsheet.  If only this man had a personal computer with a good spreadsheet programme it would have saved him so much work.  I would do anything I could to give him my PC, but it is far too late now.

Lilius, and others engaged in investigating the calendar, were greatly helped in this era by the advances in understanding of mathematics at the time resulting from scholarly research coming from India, Persia, Greece, Arabian and Jewish intellectuals.  Lilius was now able to examine the results of his calculations in the light of current mathematical processes and observe clearly the trends in the information.

The correction to the Julian calendar was, in fact, very simple.  He understood that it would be impossible to get the calendar that we use to fit in perfectly with the solar year as this is a variable.  To keep “our” year fairly close, he calculated that the leap years should be continued, but leap centuries needed to enter the equation.  To be a leap century, the year should be divisible not by four but by four hundred.  The years 1600, 2000 and 2400 are leap centuries but 1700, 1800 and 1900 are not; in other words, for every 400-year cycle there will be 97 leap years (containing a 29^th February) not 100.  Also, ten days needed to be deducted from the current Julian calendar, then everything would be back on track.

Unfortunately, Aloysius Lilius died before the commission started its work, but his brother was on the commission and was able to present his report.

Gregory XIII:

Eventually, in the 1570s, Pope Gregory XIII established the long-awaited commission to reform the calendar.  Antonio Lilius (brother of Aloysius) supported the leap-century proposal.  The commission debated for a number of years and went deep into the mathematics and astronomy of the situation discovering, as did Aloysius and others, that the solar year is just too variable for the precision they sought.  Eventually they all came around to the Lilius plan which was presented to the Pope, adopted, sent to various monarchs and authorities around Europe for approval then implemented in 1582.

Ten days were, therefore, dropped from the calendar that year and henceforth the New Year would start on the 1^st January each year (not the 25^th March).

Roman Catholic countries took up the Gregorian calendar fairly quickly, but it was rejected by the Protestant and Orthodox countries.  Queen Elizabeth and her advisers were quite interested and would have adopted the calendar there and then; however, the Church of England objected strongly to this Papist plot and it was not pursued at that time.

Over time, though, many countries adopted the Gregorian calendar.

Great Britain:

Britain stuck to the Julian calendar for a long time and for international communications was content to have OS (for Old Style) and NS (for New Style) on its correspondence but Parliament was encouraged to correct the Calendar.  The Church of England, this time, gave their full approval.  Britain had to drop eleven days from the calendar in 1752 (as the Julian calendar was even more adrift against the Gregorian calendar when the change was made here) as well as the change to the New Year date and implementation of the Leap Century rule.  The change was made in September of that year with the 3^rd to the 13^th days “removed”.

To forestall much of the confusion that had happened on the Continent previously, a very comprehensive Bill was placed before and accepted by Parliament: the Calendar (New Style) Act 1750, to resolve as many problems as possible before the change happened.

Legislation provided for payment of wages and interest not to include the eleven lost days; when children should reach the age of majority, soldiers and servants should complete their indentures and prisoners should be released from jail.

There was a significant “Give us back our Eleven Days!” protest, but this was ignored by the Government.  The Church of England, the newspapers and the Establishment got on with the New Style calendar, problems arose, but these were dealt with pragmatically.

The Quarter Days:

In Mr Duncan’s very comprehensive and wide-ranging book (details below), he mentions very briefly that London bankers objected to paying tax on 25th March 1753 (New Style) and the end of the tax year was moved forward eleven days to accommodate that.  I think there was more to it than that as the Act of 1750 covered calculation of wages, salaries, interest etcetera quite comprehensively  Tax, therefore, would only be paid for one year on a “different” date and the Government had already ignored the “Give us back our Eleven Days” movement.  My supposition is that the change was due more to Government finances than any other reason.

Governments raise money by taxation and borrowing.  The Bank of England (for instance) was established in 1694 to raise the sum of £1,200,000.00 to finance the war against France.

Borrowing by way of Treasury Bills and Bonds gives the Government more certainty about their finances than just relying on taxation.  For instance, Treasury Bills maturing up to 2068 are currently trading on the London Stock Exchange.  In the 1750s the situation would be much the same with the Government borrowing long-term on the Markets and paying interest each quarter on the Quarter Days.

The Quarter Days are an old and traditional part of the commercial landscape, they are:

25^th March (Lady Day)                       24^th June (Midsummer)

29^th September (Michaelmas)           25^th December (Christmas)

On these days Hiring Fairs would take place in Market Towns across the land where farmers and estate-owners would select and employ workers for the next season.  Rents, repayments and interest instalments for financial transactions would all fall due on the Quarter Days.  Yes, you are right, Christmas Day was a significant working day until relatively recently.

When Charles Dickens wrote “A Christmas Carol” in the 1840s, Christmas Day – the Quarter Day – was very definitely a working day.  Bob Cratchit did not get the day off and, as he was working for Mr Scrooge - a money-lender, this would be a very busy day indeed as any number of customers would be coming in to the office to pay off loans or to pay the interest due that quarter.  Bob would not be able to enjoy the Christmas jollifications with his family until the day’s work was finished and he eventually got home.

When the Bank Holidays Act 1871 was passed (eventually repealed by the Banking and Financial Dealings Act 1971), Christmas Day had already become an accepted Public Holiday and was not the subject of that Act.

Lady Day, the 25^th March 1753 being effectively the “old” new year’s day would be the day that a large number of Government Bills and their “coupon” (interest) would be payable, and on the same date each year for a long time into the future.  The Government could see the impact on their finances of continually having to pay interest on its borrowings for the eleven days removed from the calendar.  They baulked at this and unilaterally moved the payment date forward to the 5^th April each year to save this expense.  This new date obviously stuck and from then on became the British Government’s financial year end, thus breaking the link with the Quarter Days forever.

Every now and then a minor adjustment takes place in the calendar year, but the addition of an extra second now and again is not something that we often notice.

Occasionally the calendar does show an intriguing juxtaposition, such as Ash Wednesday (the start of Lent) being followed exactly a week later by National No Smoking Day.

Recommended reading

David Ewing DUNCAN “The Calendar.  The 5000-year Struggle to Align the Clock and the Heavens – and What Happened to the Missing Ten Days.” Fourth Estate – 1998.

Jacqueline De BOURGOING “The Calendar.  Measuring Time.  New Horizons.” Thames and Hudson – 2001.

(*) Glenn Research Centre – NASA:

https://www.grc.nasa.gov/www/k-12/Numbers/Math/Mathematical_Thinking/calendar_calculations.htm (21 March 2019)

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.