The Gannochy flick...& other housekeeping secrets
They say that ‘the devil is in the detail’. It certainly is when it comes to running a house; details make the difference between silver gilt and gold. Indeed, it was only recently that the creators of Downton Abbey were chastised by the Countess of Carnarvon because they appeared not to know the finer details of correctly laying a table.
During a lifetime working as a housekeeper, I have learnt that it is about looking not just at the big picture, but at the many (often very small) constituent parts, too. You need to be able to ‘see’ each detail as being right. It is an instinctive reaction – the exact alignment of chairs; the way the cushions are puffed and placed; how the vases of flowers are arranged in relation to one another, the angle of a light.
And it’s also about knowing the particular, and sometimes peculiar, details the lady or gentleman of the house requires.
One of my ladies, for example, was horrified if any inside lights went on before daylight had faded and the curtains were drawn. It was one of her essential details. We would have a manic half hour, especially at tea times in late autumn, running about the house to check whether we could see our reflections in the windows. This was the point at which it was safe to close the curtains and switch on the lights.
Closing the curtains was an epic task in itself. It was not just a matter of pulling them to and that being that. No. It was all about the detail.
First, they had to be straight and even from top to bottom, the folds in the correct place with no unsightly gaps. Second, all the curtains were edged with a contrasting fabric detail. This required a careful backward turn so this edging was exposed where the curtains met. We called the detail ‘the gannochy flick’ and it required an awful lot of patience and not a little skill to master. Any new girl had to have extensive curtain-pulling training.
Opening the curtains in the morning was no less diftficult. Again, you had to understand the details. Some had several tie-backs, which fitted in different ways, some had none. Some were very long and had to be fluffed up like a puffball skirt. None could be pulled safely back.
Bedding was another area of possible consternation. Covers had to be straight, pulled tight and free of crumples. Any throws had to be ‘thrown’, but at exactly the right angle. One bedroom featured some beautiful mirrored panels – so we had to consider whether the covers looked perfect in the mirrors, too.
This preoccupation with detail is catching. I am ashamed to say that one day I reduced one of the dear old girls to tears because she had not ‘placed’ a beautiful, embroidered linen bed cover in quite the ‘casual, nonchalant’ way that was required. It is worth remembering that intentional nonchalance is harder than it sounds.
A few years earlier, there had been a photoshoot at the house for an interiors magazine and the stylist had carefully placed rose petals down the front stairs in ‘nonchalant’ flurries. Unfortunately, a female member of staff, who hadn’t been made aware of this detail, had diligently come along and swept them all up before the photographer had time to draw breath.
That was a mistake, but she was the only one who could vacuum the carpet in such a way as to produce what we called ‘the horse’s arse’. It was so named because the result resembled the beautiful cross-squared pattern seen on the hind quarters of an immaculately turned-out racehorse. It was her own mastery of detail.
Another bane of our lives was the dining-room floor. The room paid homage to Monet’s dining room at Giverny; a symphony of blues and yellows. The floor was natural rush, but the mistress of the house wanted it to pick up the blue details elsewhere in the room, so we were required to transform it into a chequered lattice by laboriously colouring in the blue squares with felt-tip pens. Every spring, we could be found on our knees, filling in the alternate squares. Two hours of this and not only did the knees pack up, but we were all completely inebriated from the fumes, too.
Hours were spent concentrating on the dinner table, too; choosing the perfect colour scheme for the evening – reflected in the flowers, the tablecloth, the centrepiece, the candles – before the laying could even begin.
Laying a table well requires a good eye (or even a ruler) to judge the distance between each setting, and the lining up of the cutlery. It is best done slowly and methodically. This is fine if you can get into the dining room early and proceed in a leisurely manner. But woe betide if you get the details wrong. Rhonda, a housekeeper I worked with on an estate in Scotland, was a wonderful table layer and took great pride in never having a single fork even so much as a millimetre out of place. Her tables were works of art.
Precision detailing is just as important when laying up tea or coffee trays, right down to how you place a spoon on a saucer. Imagine yourself holding a cup and saucer; the last thing you need is for the spoon to be trapped under the handle. To avoid this, the spoon should be placed at the same angle as the cup handle – quarter to three or 10 to four. This could be the difference between remaining elegant or ending up with coffee down your front.
A particular bugbear of Mrs R’s was pencils. Yes, really. We had pots of pencils and pads of paper all around the house: by the beds, by the phones, on the card table, in the loos. They had to be kept sharp at all times, so every week or so we would put a girl on pencil-sharpening duty. This pencil monitor could spend a whole morning going round and checking each pencil in the house. Heaven help her if Mrs R ever came across a blunt one.
Then there were the little details in the guests’ rooms. The baskets in the bathrooms, for example, contained 32 different items – from Alka Seltzer and sun cream to sponges and specially brewed bath oil.
In the bedrooms, there had to be up-to-date magazines, sewing kits, fruit, flowers, whisky and shortbread, still and sparkling water, bathrobes and slippers, ashtrays and matches. The matches were all Scottish Bluebell brand, in blue and white boxes; in the main rooms downstairs some boxes had even been personalised in blue and white checked Fablon, or coloured by hand, in keeping with the house’s theme. And then to decide: windows open or closed? Blinds up or down? Lights on or off? Had the drawers and cupboard doors been pulled open just enough to look inviting? These twiddly bits, as we called them, were left for me to check, after the girls had finished all the heavy chores, such as the hovering and dusting.
I really enjoyed all this detailed accessorising and found myself permanently on the lookout for bits and pieces in blue and white to fill a corner or brighten a table. Bric-abrac and antique mix well together as long as the setting is right. Attending to all the detail calls to mind getting a stage set ready with each thing exactly placed. Indeed, the feeling in the house when there is something happening happening, be it the family coming back for the first time in the season or a house full of guests, is very like the run-up to a first night in the theatre.
And once the work is done, the Day of Judgement arrives. The house smells wonderful, it shines, it glows, the flowers are sensational, the bedrooms gleam in the crisp whiteness of the linen, all the objets d’art are perfectly placed, the smell of fresh baked cakes suggests a welcome tea and a faint underlying aroma from the kitchen hints at a good dinner to follow – all is ready.
Until, as the first guest’s car pulls up, you notice a single spider silk, newly spun, suspended from the landing window and gently glistening in the sunlight…
Looking for a housekeeper, or to find a housekeeping job? Visit our Classifieds Section.
During a lifetime working as a housekeeper, I have learnt that it is about looking not just at the big picture, but at the many (often very small) constituent parts, too. You need to be able to ‘see’ each detail as being right. It is an instinctive reaction – the exact alignment of chairs; the way the cushions are puffed and placed; how the vases of flowers are arranged in relation to one another, the angle of a light.
And it’s also about knowing the particular, and sometimes peculiar, details the lady or gentleman of the house requires.
One of my ladies, for example, was horrified if any inside lights went on before daylight had faded and the curtains were drawn. It was one of her essential details. We would have a manic half hour, especially at tea times in late autumn, running about the house to check whether we could see our reflections in the windows. This was the point at which it was safe to close the curtains and switch on the lights.
Closing the curtains was an epic task in itself. It was not just a matter of pulling them to and that being that. No. It was all about the detail.
First, they had to be straight and even from top to bottom, the folds in the correct place with no unsightly gaps. Second, all the curtains were edged with a contrasting fabric detail. This required a careful backward turn so this edging was exposed where the curtains met. We called the detail ‘the gannochy flick’ and it required an awful lot of patience and not a little skill to master. Any new girl had to have extensive curtain-pulling training.
Opening the curtains in the morning was no less diftficult. Again, you had to understand the details. Some had several tie-backs, which fitted in different ways, some had none. Some were very long and had to be fluffed up like a puffball skirt. None could be pulled safely back.
Bedding was another area of possible consternation. Covers had to be straight, pulled tight and free of crumples. Any throws had to be ‘thrown’, but at exactly the right angle. One bedroom featured some beautiful mirrored panels – so we had to consider whether the covers looked perfect in the mirrors, too.
This preoccupation with detail is catching. I am ashamed to say that one day I reduced one of the dear old girls to tears because she had not ‘placed’ a beautiful, embroidered linen bed cover in quite the ‘casual, nonchalant’ way that was required. It is worth remembering that intentional nonchalance is harder than it sounds.
A few years earlier, there had been a photoshoot at the house for an interiors magazine and the stylist had carefully placed rose petals down the front stairs in ‘nonchalant’ flurries. Unfortunately, a female member of staff, who hadn’t been made aware of this detail, had diligently come along and swept them all up before the photographer had time to draw breath.
That was a mistake, but she was the only one who could vacuum the carpet in such a way as to produce what we called ‘the horse’s arse’. It was so named because the result resembled the beautiful cross-squared pattern seen on the hind quarters of an immaculately turned-out racehorse. It was her own mastery of detail.
Another bane of our lives was the dining-room floor. The room paid homage to Monet’s dining room at Giverny; a symphony of blues and yellows. The floor was natural rush, but the mistress of the house wanted it to pick up the blue details elsewhere in the room, so we were required to transform it into a chequered lattice by laboriously colouring in the blue squares with felt-tip pens. Every spring, we could be found on our knees, filling in the alternate squares. Two hours of this and not only did the knees pack up, but we were all completely inebriated from the fumes, too.
Hours were spent concentrating on the dinner table, too; choosing the perfect colour scheme for the evening – reflected in the flowers, the tablecloth, the centrepiece, the candles – before the laying could even begin.
Laying a table well requires a good eye (or even a ruler) to judge the distance between each setting, and the lining up of the cutlery. It is best done slowly and methodically. This is fine if you can get into the dining room early and proceed in a leisurely manner. But woe betide if you get the details wrong. Rhonda, a housekeeper I worked with on an estate in Scotland, was a wonderful table layer and took great pride in never having a single fork even so much as a millimetre out of place. Her tables were works of art.
Precision detailing is just as important when laying up tea or coffee trays, right down to how you place a spoon on a saucer. Imagine yourself holding a cup and saucer; the last thing you need is for the spoon to be trapped under the handle. To avoid this, the spoon should be placed at the same angle as the cup handle – quarter to three or 10 to four. This could be the difference between remaining elegant or ending up with coffee down your front.
A particular bugbear of Mrs R’s was pencils. Yes, really. We had pots of pencils and pads of paper all around the house: by the beds, by the phones, on the card table, in the loos. They had to be kept sharp at all times, so every week or so we would put a girl on pencil-sharpening duty. This pencil monitor could spend a whole morning going round and checking each pencil in the house. Heaven help her if Mrs R ever came across a blunt one.
Then there were the little details in the guests’ rooms. The baskets in the bathrooms, for example, contained 32 different items – from Alka Seltzer and sun cream to sponges and specially brewed bath oil.
In the bedrooms, there had to be up-to-date magazines, sewing kits, fruit, flowers, whisky and shortbread, still and sparkling water, bathrobes and slippers, ashtrays and matches. The matches were all Scottish Bluebell brand, in blue and white boxes; in the main rooms downstairs some boxes had even been personalised in blue and white checked Fablon, or coloured by hand, in keeping with the house’s theme. And then to decide: windows open or closed? Blinds up or down? Lights on or off? Had the drawers and cupboard doors been pulled open just enough to look inviting? These twiddly bits, as we called them, were left for me to check, after the girls had finished all the heavy chores, such as the hovering and dusting.
I really enjoyed all this detailed accessorising and found myself permanently on the lookout for bits and pieces in blue and white to fill a corner or brighten a table. Bric-abrac and antique mix well together as long as the setting is right. Attending to all the detail calls to mind getting a stage set ready with each thing exactly placed. Indeed, the feeling in the house when there is something happening happening, be it the family coming back for the first time in the season or a house full of guests, is very like the run-up to a first night in the theatre.
And once the work is done, the Day of Judgement arrives. The house smells wonderful, it shines, it glows, the flowers are sensational, the bedrooms gleam in the crisp whiteness of the linen, all the objets d’art are perfectly placed, the smell of fresh baked cakes suggests a welcome tea and a faint underlying aroma from the kitchen hints at a good dinner to follow – all is ready.
Until, as the first guest’s car pulls up, you notice a single spider silk, newly spun, suspended from the landing window and gently glistening in the sunlight…
Looking for a housekeeper, or to find a housekeeping job? Visit our Classifieds Section.