Black on White
in Marks and Spencers HQ, Baker Street, London
by Jilliana
Ranicar-Breese
Throughout my
earlier life our family in Liverpool always had a
connection with people who supplied or worked for
M&S.
'Uncle' Phil,
my father's best friend, was a self made
millionaire through textiles and had a collection
of Lowry paintings in both his home in Liverpool
and his flat in London, near Baker Street where M&S's
HQ was located. Every Christmas, without fail,
his chauffeur Fred would drive up our modest
suburban drive in the Bentley bearing the same
gifts every year. Pale pink and blue quilted
house coats for me and my mother and a huge
casket of expensive Terry's of York dark rich
chocolate in drawers and some individually
wrapped in gold foil. The posh beige box had a
brown monogram and a historic date. Perhaps when
the company was founded. This casket is no longer
made today but Terry's still make an orange
chocolate ball and possibly almonds enrobed with
dark chocolate. Those were the days. The 1950's.
I recall being
ill as a teenager and created some hair combs
with colourful velvet ribbons and bows glued on
to the combs. 'Uncle' Phil thought the idea was
interesting and took all my 'samples' to London
for a presentation. I didn't dare to ask for them
back and I never saw my craft work again. I did
not like or trust 'Uncle' Phil from that moment
on.
Then my parent's
best friends fled from Apartheid South Africa.
Somehow Sonny David landed a top job you know
where as did my relative Theo Helfet who settled
in Leeds in Yorkshire, the textile centre in the
old days of England. He too supplied textiles to
HQ.
When I moved
to London my cousin Jack's best friend Harvey
welcomed me. On arriving at my flat to take me
out for dinner, he happened to go to the bathroom.
He returned quoting all the stock numbers of my
flat mate Helga's panties hanging up to dry!
Later one of
my Portobello Market clients Bill Blackburn
turned out to be the food manager for the large
food hall in the Oxford Street branch and the
Israeli Paldi brothers supplied all the tropical
fruits to the food hall, also my clients in
Portobello Road where I had my stand for 25 years.
One day the
art department at HQ phoned my company Retrograph
Archive. They wanted inspiration for new soap
packaging. How they heard about me and my vast
collection of sophisticated packaging and labels
from Paris, I never knew. Eventually I sold them
some designs and was invited to the design studio
to see their artwork and to meet the head
designer.
I then
remembered that Nigel Colne was on the board of
directors at HQ. He was the nephew of my
favourite Aunt Eileen originally from Swansea,
who had at one stage of her young life lived with
her second cousin, my mother, so in fact she was
my third cousin, not my aunt. But I adored this
intellectual woman who had been married to a
South African politician from Durban. When she
was widowed she moved to London to be close to
her brother in Hendon, Nigel's father. Over the
years, she would talk about her nephew who I
think was in marketing and had worked up the
ladder in HQ. I had met him once as a child so I
though why not visit my cousin while in the same
building? I had to make an appointment because he
was a VIP up on the fifth floor with the red
carpet so I discovered. A big mistake!
The day came
and I was warmly received in the design studio.
After, they took me for tea and biscuits in the
canteen. I was very familiar with M&S's
excellent biscuits and scoffed quite a few! Then
later I was accompanied up to the fifth floor no
doubt for security reasons and suddenly found I
was walking on a red carpet. Was I a VIP too?
Nigel was
unfriendly, stiff and formal asking about Aunt
Eileen. I could see in a flash that this was
going to be a brief meeting but unfortunately I
took off my red and black Spanish poncho and
rested my large wet brolly against my chair. I
noted he had a fluffy white carpet and wondered
if anything ever got spilt on it. White is not
exactly a practical colour in an office. The poor
man didn't know what to say or ask me. He
immediately rang for his PA to bring the coffee.
An attractive slender black woman arrived
carrying a silver plated tray with an elaborate
silver plated teapot, bone china cups and saucers
and top of the range Belgian coated chocolate
biscuits from their deluxe range on a decorative
plate.
I don't recall
what we spoke about. I was bored out of my mind
and no doubt he had one eye on the clock. Time to
depart. The PA was unfortunately called in to
remove the tray. Why oh why? Just the exact
second I was lifting my arms to put my poncho
over my head, crash. My descending arm must have
caught the girl carrying the tray! Black on white.
I can still see Nigel's pained expression. The
poor girl rushed out to get a cloth but the
damage had been done.
Worst was yet
to come. It must have been a wet day because I
was carrying a big brolly. Nigel ushered me into
the lift eager, no doubt, to get his unwanted
guest off the premises. Somehow my brolly got
stuck into another executive, already in the lift,
straight into his balls!!!! I mumbled my
apologies with a Po face. Nigel was clearly
exasperated. Bill Blackburn seemed to be waiting
for me downstairs to sign me out and remove me
off the premises. I don't recall Nigel saying
goodbye, a pleasure to have met you!!!! He was
gone from 0 to 5 in a flash.
But all these
Marks and Sparks ghosts are dead and buried
including my magician husband's old conjurer
friend John Salisse, who was a Magic Circle
director and on both boards.
Written
in Hotel Las Casas de la Juderia. Santa Cruz,
Seville. October 2015.
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