embroidered handkerchief distraction - the fiction

[launderedlace]

Part 7 (the final part): Rachel and Julie both have ‘visions’

As they’d previously agreed, Rachel and Julie, now sitting in the nearby pop-up vintage tearoom, were paying a second morning visit together to Louise’s linen stall. Sipping tea and nibbling cake, Julie was updating Rachel on her earlier entirely successful meeting with Kate, her Director at work

‘Quite by chance, we passed each other in the corridor yesterday,’ Julie described. ‘Kate was snottily but discreetly blowing her nose into another of her grandmother’s enormous, sumptuous handkerchiefs. She gave me a friendly muffled hello, her nose deeply buried in embroidered linen and fabulously gorgeous, trembling, lace. Which reminds me: I really need to get my act together, wash and iron that other handkerchief of hers, and return it’

‘You appear to have found another convert there, Julie,’ reflected Rachel, smiling, ‘well done!’

‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right; oh, and before I forget, I did get around to laundering that vintage bridal handkerchief of yours, the one embroidered ‘EG’: here it is.’

Rachel welcomed back the shimmeringly beautiful heirloom, returned to a pristine state by Julie, and tucked it into a side pocket of her jacket

They began to have a closer look at their new purchases: another significant pile of extravagant handkerchiefs and four variously-frilled white aprons. A couple of tables away, the usual waitress, sporting her own magnificent broderie anglaise-trimmed apron, the one identical to those now constantly used by Rachel and Julie, was delivering an order to a female customer. The customer, it crossed Rachel’s mind, looked vaguely familiar. Their attention again focused on the newly acquired linens, quite without warning, the tranquil atmosphere surrounding them was shattered by a huge sneeze, a shriek, and the sound of splintering crockery. A scene of some devastation surrounded the nearby table: a teapot lay in smithereens on the floor; the waitress’s ruffled blouse and apron, both spotless a moment ago, were now noticeably splattered; the customer had a face frozen in horror and a thick tentacle of snot dangling from her nose. It didn’t need Hercule Poirot to work out what had happened.

First to move was the cafe manager who, to her credit, immediately checked that her shocked waitress was okay, then matter-of-factly advised that she’d have to change her snot-splattered blouse and apron. ‘The spare white ones are only plain, but I’m sure they’ll do for now.’

To Rachel’s equal credit, she quickly offered support to the customer, still visibly mortified at the chaos she’d just triggered. Plucking the uppermost handkerchief from those on her own and Julie’s table, she deftly shook out Louise’s folds and offered it to the woman. Snapping back to reality, the woman gratefully grasped the white fabric, decorated with pink applique, embroidered flowers and tatted lace, then speedily deployed the pretty handkerchief to mask and absorb her thickly dripping snot.

‘Oh, my goodness, what have I done; that poor girl?!’ she exclaimed from behind the embroidery, ‘thank you so much, whatever will everyone be thinking of me?’

Taking more control of the situation, she now blew hugely and wetly into Rachel’s handkerchief which, despite a moment’s plucky resistance, was powerless to maintain any semblance of its pristine state against the overwhelming force of thick eruptions from the woman’s nose. At this moment, both Rachel and the woman recognised each other 

‘We’ve met before, on a train, haven’t we?’ suggested Rachel

‘Yes, we have,’ replied the woman from behind Rachel’s now partly limp handkerchief, ‘and you very kindly came to my assistance on that occasion, as well’. The delicate flowers recoiled in response to another loud, messy assault

Meanwhile, the manager cleared up the teapot’s wreckage whilst the waitress, having removed her apron and discarded it onto the counter, disappeared out of sight to change her blouse. Addressing the manager, still with Rachel’s handkerchief at her nose, the woman began to try and make amends

‘Please, the very least I can do is to pay for that breakage, and obviously I’ll have to apologise to your member of staff when she returns’

Surprisingly relaxed about the damage the manager, thanking the woman for her consideration, explained that she saw the breakage as ‘just one of those things’ but, yes, it would be appropriate for the waitress, when she returned, to be offered an apology and perhaps some further recompense

Julie, meanwhile, the embroidered blue ‘J’ of a used-once, scrunched up, white men’s handkerchief protruding from her sleeve, was quietly considering options prompted by the sight of the abandoned apron. Collecting it from where it lay on the counter, she laid it next to those she and Rachel had just acquired from Louise: there and then, she decided to suggest a swap, with the waitress being able to choose whichever of the four others she might prefer. In the midst of contemplating this idea, she heard a loud nose-blowing honk from the opposite side of the tearoom. Looking up, she immediately recognised a workplace acquaintance who’d attended her lunchtime sustainable fashion session. Walking over, Julie reintroduced herself

‘Hello, Denise isn’t it?’ Julie began, ‘sorry, I didn’t spot you in here: I’ll use the excuse that there have been one or two distractions in the last few minutes!’

The woman, confirming that, yes, she was Denise, checked the newly-soiled state of her handkerchief, then raised it to her nose again. Julie, with an eye for such things, spotted the beautiful garland of embroidered red tulips stretching from one corner of the generously-dimensioned white handkerchief to its centre; the circumference of the handkerchief was broadly bordered in pale blue. Denise blew again: less of a honk this time, more of wet gurgle.

‘Sorry, Julie’, responded Denise, lowering her handkerchief and pushing it, Julie-style, into her sleeve, a portion of the embroidery remaining on display, ‘that’s now horribly messy. I know you’d have been interested in having a close-up look at the pretty embroidery; fortunately, I do have five other identical ones I’ve just bought from Louise.’ She delved into her bag and pulled them out. Julie, attention switching from Denise’s snotty handkerchief; if she’d known Denise better, she might have pulled it from Denise’s sleeve; took one of the clean ones and carefully unfolded it

‘That’s really lovely, and looks a real pleasure to use; goodness, I’m forgetting myself, come over and meet my friend Rachel; I just know you’ll have plenty in common’ 
 
By now, Rachel and ‘the woman from the train’, whose name turned out to be Karen, were chatting in a more relaxed manner. Karen’s intention, as it had been for the three others, was to visit Louise’s linen stall and to fully equip herself with a supply of vintage handkerchiefs. Rachel, without hesitation, suggested that Karen kept the one she’d been using

‘My timing wasn’t quite perfect, was it?’ she commented wryly, a tiny section of the handkerchief that had briefly belonged to Rachel peeking out from Karen’s clenched hand, where the remainder of it was now a tightly screwed up ball, ‘I sincerely hope the day’s going to get better, and I feel awful about what’s happened to that poor waitress.’

‘Here she comes now,’ interrupted Julie, returning with Denise, ‘and don’t worry, I think I may have a plan that will suit everyone’. In as friendly a manner as possible, she called the waitress over, now wearing a plain clean white shirt, but who was apron-less over her black skirt. The first priority was to give Karen the chance to apologise profusely; an apology that was readily accepted. Then Julie ran through her plan

‘The same day that you bought this apron from Louise,’ she began, indicating the snot-splattered one and addressing the waitress, ’Rachel and myself took the other two identical ones: needless to say, we love them, so much so that we wondered if you’d consider swapping it for one of these,’ she continued, touching the topmost of the four other aprons. ‘Several of them are full-length, with bibs, so they may actually be more useful for waitressing.’

Sensing her chance to properly make amends, Karen also offered to buy the waitress an additional apron and, if available, a replacement vintage blouse from Louise in the next few minutes. The deal was done to everyone’s satisfaction: Julie carefully folded the extravagantly ruffled, snotty, apron and placed in her bag, and the waitress, whose name turned out to be Michelle, tied on one of the others, smoothing down its lacy embroidered panels, and agreed with her manager to accompany Karen to Louise’s stall a short time later

Rachel, Julie, Denise and, for a short while, Karen, sat down together to further discuss and compare handkerchiefs. All of a sudden Rachel, in a single adept movement and sensing an impending sneeze, flourished from her pocket and shook open one of her existing favourites: the huge and lacy 1930s heirloom bridal handkerchief, embellished with ‘EG’. For Denise, this was a first-time experience: to see Rachel momentarily holding an item of almost indescribable and refined beauty a couple of inches from the threat of impending messiness. Almost robotically, Rachel ratcheted progressively backwards, step by step with corresponding sharp intakes of breath as her sneeze, on three occasions, refused to materialise: this, when it happened, was going to be huge. As the rest of her body had lurched backwards, her hands remained motionless, so her handkerchief was now at full arms-length away from her nose

Time, for Rachel, somehow seemed both to mysteriously stop, and to move at lightning speed

Paused in time, but ready to be propelled out into the physical world, was the moisture within her nose

Flashing sequentially forwards through her imagination, all in the space of a second, she visualized:

A French lace-maker, working in 1928, on the lace that subsequently decorated her handkerchief

The embroiderer, commissioned by the bride-to-be in the autumn of 1931, meticulously crafting the ‘EG’ monogramme

The society bride of spring 1932, in her lavish finery, carrying the handkerchief as she processed down the Cathedral aisle, accompanied by her new husband. Throughout the entire day, the handkerchief’s only non-decorative functions were the wiping away a single tear of joy, and one delicate dab of the bride’s otherwise perfectly-behaved nostrils 

A generation on, the original bride’s daughter again making the handkerchief central to her own, country church, wedding: this time, no tears but the gentlest possible nose blow, scarcely twitching the lace

For the next generation, no wedding, but the granddaughter dutifully caring for the handkerchief, including lending it to a local museum for display before, reluctantly as she down-sized, selling it to Louise

Rachel, herself, using and then carefully re-crafting the handkerchief back to its intended state: washing, fluttering on her sea-breezy clothesline, starching, and precision-like ironing

Time in her non-imaginary world re-engaged: her upper body whip-lashed forwards as her sneeze finally unleashed. As the spray of moisture left her nose, it again only had a few inches, but ninety years of history, to travel before hitting the lace, embroidery and heritage fabric. Fortunately, Julie and Denise were protected from the minute globules of Rachel’s scattering snot by her handkerchief; they were, however, both witnesses to its shuddering as it experienced the full force of the nasal blast

A quietly whispered, ‘Excuse me!’

As her still-distant expression suggested, and seemingly without her complete awareness, Rachel brought her handkerchief up to her nose and began her customary pattern of blowing: several messy cycles of one ‘almost honk’ followed by three softer blows. Fascinated by her first-time experience of such a spectacle, Denise laid down one of the three remaining frilly white aprons she’d been inspecting and holding up against herself

Julie, noticing her friend’s continuing, uncharacteristic, trance-like state decided to hold on to her own latest idea: influenced by the morning’s events, she was already wondering about the possibilities of a pop-up vintage cafe specifically for sneezers. What would it entail: tea, coffee, cake, prosecco, cake stands, crockery, silverware, tablecloths, aprons and handkerchiefs? Could the aprons, as well as the handkerchiefs, be used for sneezing and nose blowing? Surely, she and Rachel already had most of what it took, but would Rachel be interested? Denise, also, might be intrigued by the idea

Karen and Michelle had returned, the latter smiling as she set to work wearing one of her two new vintage aprons, and a lovely Edwardian blouse gifted by Karen. Wiping her hands on her apron for the first time she, for one, was happy to know that the stain smeared across the pretty broderie anglaise and lace was nothing more dribbles of tea and fragments of cake  

Dear viewers: thank you for persevering with all, or some, of this storyline: it’s probably now quite long enough! So, what happens next? Rachel and Julie will certainly be considering options for new horizons. Possibly Denise will as well ... and so might I

 

[poiub]

what a lovely tale!

[launderedlace]

4 hours ago, poiub said:

what a lovely tale!

Thank you, although I was slightly annoyed with myself for the obvious typo in the last line, which should have been ' ...was nothing more than dribbles of tea and fragments of cake'!! More generally, it felt like the thread had gone on for long enough ... which isn't necessarily the same as killing off the Rachel and Julie characters. But I suspect they'll need to come back with something different whilst, of course, retaining some of their key characteristics 🤔

[Tucked Hankie]

17 hours ago, launderedlace said:

Thank you, although I was slightly annoyed with myself for the obvious typo in the last line, which should have been ' ...was nothing more than dribbles of tea and fragments of cake'!! More generally, it felt like the thread had gone on for long enough ... which isn't necessarily the same as killing off the Rachel and Julie characters. But I suspect they'll need to come back with something different whilst, of course, retaining some of their key characteristics 🤔

Try introducing, in addition to handkerchiefs and aprons, cloth napkins tucked into the collar.

[launderedlace]

1 hour ago, Tucked Hankie said:

Try introducing, in addition to handkerchiefs and aprons, cloth napkins tucked into the collar.

That's almost surreal (and thank you) - after posting, I re-read Julie's 'mental list' of what would be needed for a pop-up vintage café and realised that she'd forgotten napkins. I'm sure Rachel, also, will point this out! 👍

[Monrovia]

On 11/8/2022 at 8:36 AM, launderedlace said:

That's almost surreal (and thank you) - after posting, I re-read Julie's 'mental list' of what would be needed for a pop-up vintage café and realised that she'd forgotten napkins. I'm sure Rachel, also, will point this out! 👍

Would definitely like to see more of Julie and Rachel - there has to be variations on Julie's penchant (and her work colleague) for tucking handkerchiefs up her sleeve.

[launderedlace]

Dear viewers

Thank you to everyone who's supplied inspirational ideas for this continuing storyline - I hope I'm doing those ideas justice. I’ve decided to go back into the 'Embroidered handkerchief distraction - the fiction' thread - after all, that’s where it began. For anyone wishing to get the complete picture, please take a look at the 'Rachel and Julie - side-story', where the two episodes immediately precede the continued storyline, below

Sneezy café, part 1

As soon as Julie, accompanied by Denise who’d needed little persuasion to come along, walked into the kitchen-diner, it was obvious that Rachel had already undertaken a great deal of preparatory work. Continuing to multi-task, she went on with setting out table placings with one hand, whilst covering her nose with a freshly-unfurled large pale blue handkerchief held in the other; enormous white appliqued butterflies adorned a full quarter of Rachel’s handkerchief

‘My word, Rachel,’ exclaimed Denise, ‘they’re really attractive: I mean both the way you’ve laid out the table, and your handkerchief’  

Rachel decided her nose needed her undivided attention; she formed a sandwich comprised of: straight-fingered hands on the outside; her all-too snotty nostrils in the middle, and an intervening layer of soft handkerchief fabric: everything was primed. She blew, determinedly and productively, immediately destroying the central part of her own millimetre-perfect laundering of the pretty handkerchief

‘I do apologise, I have something of a sniffle but, on the bright side, I hereby nominate myself as an obviously well-qualified customer for our sneezy café experiment!’

A quick discussion between Rachel and Denise soon concluded that, at present, Denise was the sneezier of the two, so she would act the role of the second customer, and Julie would be the waitress

‘Before we get started, shall we agree on a few basic ground rules but, at the same time, keep it simple?’ Julie suggested. The other two concurred so, without yet taking up their allotted roles, they sat down at the table Rachel had prepared. It was impressive: embroidered white tablecloth, cake and sandwich stands, places set with silver cutlery, fine bone china, champagne flutes and linen napkins in rings. As yet, the cake and sandwich stands were empty: the three women had each agreed to provide diminutively proportioned sweets and savouries to fill them. Additionally, and each of the three had already contributed to this, was a pile of perfectly ironed handkerchiefs and, draped over the back of an empty chair, three large, immaculately starched, frilly white aprons

It took less than ten minutes to agree the following:

• If, at any point, the waitress became uncomfortable about anything, she should ask the others for a ‘time out’ to discuss and resolve
• Make all reasonable attempts to avoid sneezing on the food
• Customers needing to sneeze or nose-blow should either use a handkerchief, preferably a clean one, or request to use the apron that the waitress was wearing
• The waitress should decide if and when to change her apron, but customers are able to request this at any point
• The linen napkins were only to be used for wiping fingers and lips made sticky by cakes and sandwiches; in other words, specifically not for nose-blowing
• Immediately after they finished, they should review both the ground rules and how the experiment had gone generally 

Julie went into the spare bedroom to change into a plain black skirt and white blouse; the others ensured they fully looked the part in 1950s-style dresses, with Rachel making the extra effort of wearing a stiff layered petticoat under hers to add volume. The other two helped Julie load up the sandwich stand, then assumed their roles as customers; for Julie, it was next a matter of selecting one of the aprons and tying it on. To begin with, she picked and unfolded one, provided by Denise, which had a heavily embroidered bib, ruffles at the shoulders and around the skirt, and a single pocket. The fabric was lightweight, handkerchief-like; the entire garment was divided symmetrically by a sharp vertical fold which ran from the top of the bib to the hem of the skirt. Rachel tucked a lace handkerchief into the pocket, and attached a white broderie anglaise waitress cap, threaded with black satin, to her head

Having gained the others' approval that she was now suitably and immaculately attired, including that the apron's bow was properly arranged, Julie asked whether they'd like to begin with a flute of champagne: of course they would! As Julie poured, Rachel and Denise extracted their napkins from silver rings and arranged them in their laps; they then each chose their first few sandwiches

It was agreed, given that she only had two customers, that Julie would join in with the eating, drinking and conversation but, when not serving, would perch herself on a stool at the nearby breakfast bar. An amiable, genteel atmosphere prevailed; the general flow of conversation enabled Rachel and Denise to get to know each other better: yes, Rachel's boyfriend, James, was away at the moment; Denise's partner, Flick, was also currently travelling to meet staff and clients at her chain of flower shops

Rachel, sensing an imminent sneeze, made a quick grab for the slightly-used handkerchief in her pocket, shook out its light crumples with accustomed dexterity, and had it in place at her nose in time to protect the sandwiches and Denise from exposure to any wayward spray

'Excuse me!' the pale blue cotton and exquisite white butterflies recoiled from the moist blast jettisoned into them. Rachel held the handkerchief to her nose for some time before lowering it to absorb the wetness, but didn't blow. Denise, meanwhile, realising that her own nose was beginning to play up, had sniffed thickly

'Rachel, if you don't mind, and seeing as you've hardly used it, could I borrow that pretty handkerchief, please?'

The handkerchief exchanged, Denise, despite being aware that her nose was full, did little more than dab her nostrils gently, causing the butterflies to dance slightly, then continued to hold the handkerchief. Julie, looking on, sensed her moment

'On behalf of the Sneezy Café, is there anything I can do to help you, ladies?!' Julie, by now, was totally in character; suspecting that Denise’s lovely apron now had only a few more moments in its pristine state, she smoothed it down over her blouse and skirt

‘I’m sure my nose is so full,’ replied Rachel, ‘that I’m not convinced that any of these handkerchiefs would be able to cope with it’

‘Can I offer you the use of this, madam?’ suggested Julie the waitress, lifting the lower part of the apron as she moved to stand next to Rachel, ‘as you know, it’s all part of the service’ 

‘Thank you, that’s really kind,' responded Rachel as she buried her nose into the huge expanse of the apron’s lower section. ‘Julie,' she asked, lowering the apron and clearly addressing her friend as the person she really was, rather than a make-believe waitress, ‘are you sure about this?’ 

At some level, the question was too late, as the apron was already marked with two small damp patches which had seeped onto it from Rachel’s nose

‘Don’t be silly, just go for it,’ Julie assured, herself, in turn, obviously speaking out of role

The apron’s fate was sealed: it quickly found itself gathered around Rachel’s nose. Rachel blew again and again, hugely and messily, into the soft, welcoming material. Satisfied, she let the apron drop

‘Denise, would you mind handing me back that handkerchief, so I can tidy up?’

Julie, meanwhile, had stepped back, revealing the full extent of the apron’s altered state. Surprisingly, the precisely laundered fold down its middle remained intact; its overall symmetry had completely disappeared: one half of the skirt section was now heavily embellished with huge swathes of thickly clinging snot. Matter of factly, Julie refilled the champagne glasses as Rachel quietly completed the cleaning of her nose with the handkerchief she’d been sharing with Denise

‘Madam, is there anything further I can do for you?’ enquired Julie, now again in role and speaking to Denise

‘If you don’t mind,' came the reply, ‘I could also do with making use of your apron’

Julie again offered the vast expanse of ruffle-edged white fabric; Denise took hold of the apron’s lower section not used by Rachel and raised it to cover her face. She required fewer blows than Rachel to clear her nose but her gurgling sounds were thicker and, as she dropped the apron from her nose, it was evident that although the volume of snot she’d produced was less, it was more distinctly coloured

‘Rachel, could I please have that handkerchief back one more time’

Although not inundated in anything like the same way as the apron, the constant wiping the two women had subjected it to was now taking its toll of the handkerchief’s tidiness: it had now descended into a state of crumpled dampness and clearly needed to make its way into the nearby laundry basket. Taking the handkerchief back from Denise one more time, and now wiping her own nose on the butterflies, Rachel asked Julie to oblige. Before casting it away, Julie used the handkerchief to clear a few of the largest clumps of snot from her apron. It was a fairly futile exercise but helped her decide to not yet change the apron for a clean one; from different types of wipes and spills, she reflected, she often got this messy in her own kitchen. Flourishing the lace handkerchief which, remarkably, had survived in a completely dry state in her apron pocket, she further dabbed at the enormous wet areas. The two soiled handkerchiefs were then added to the other dirty laundry waiting in Rachel’s basket

Julie next filled the cake stand and asked her customers if they were yet ready for tea, or would be continuing with champagne; unsurprisingly, it was champagne! Having dipped into the pile of fresh handkerchiefs, both Rachel and Denise, in the same hand that they held a champagne flute, gripped clean, fully-unfolded handkerchiefs. Both, nominally, belonged to Julie and were adorned with sizeable bouquets of embroidered blue flowers 

'Julie,' suggested Denise, thinking out loud, 'would you mind changing your apron? I know you've made a considerable effort to tidy it up but I'd quite like to start afresh if I need to blow my nose again; what do you think, Rachel?'

'As long as it's fine with you, Julie, I'm with Denise on this,' Rachel offered, by way of a reply

It was fine with Julie, who recollected the saying, 'The customer is always right'. Untying it, she whisked the snotty apron into Rachel's wash-basket, quickly replacing it with one of the two available crisply-folded ones. Although bib-less, it lacked nothing in terms of spectacular styling: huge ruffles of broderie anglaise and long, wide ties that enabled the sculpting of an enormous bow, were its principal features. Additionally, it sported crisply-laundered folds, one vertical and one horizontal, dividing the main part of the apron into quarters. As before, Julie selected a clean handkerchief, an extravagantly-embroidered 'E' one with masses of swirling leaves, flowers and bows, and dropped it into the apron's right-hand pocket

Rachel and Denise sipped champagne, chatted, ate cake, wiped their mouths with linen napkins and, despite being aware that their noses were again filling, did nothing more than genteelly dab them with the handkerchiefs which still possessed full sets of lightly-starched folds. The embroidered blue flowers, seemingly unaware of the liquid forces that, at any moment, could be launched onto them, bobbed serenely. Julie busied herself with loading the dishwasher and preparing the teapot, milk and sugar, feeling they would be needed soon; her dynamism was the driving force behind the constant bobbing of her idyllic apron's gorgeous, stiffly-starched, ruffle.

'Shall I prepare the tea now, ladies?' she asked a few minutes later. Cake and champagne finished, slightly crumpled yet almost clean handkerchiefs still in hand, Rachel and Denise agreed that Julie should do that

'It's quite likely that the steamy tea is going to make our noses run much more quickly, though,' mentioned Denise. 'We've succeeded in keeping these handkerchiefs in a respectable condition so, to avoid seriously dirtying them, will we be able to use your apron for getting rid of all our snot?'

'Of course, madam, just let me know when you'd like me to help,' Julie assured, smiling, 'I'll bring your tea now'

Julie returned to the table bearing tea-things on a tray held against the waistband of her apron. Everyone knew what was about to happen: the apron's state of pristine starched loveliness would exist for only a minute or two longer. As predicted, no sooner had the two customers begun to sip their hot, steamy tea, than their noses began to stream: discreet sniffs and dabs into handkerchiefs, now dotted with nostril-sized damp patches, could not manage the situation

'Ladies, I can see you are having a bit of a snotty crisis, can I suggest a way of helping you both at once? It will require you to sit a little closer together.' Concurring, Denise moved her chair next to Rachel's; Julie, now holding her immaculate apron's huge frill out towards her customers, proceeded to outline her plan

'I think it will be perfectly practical for you both to blow your noses into my apron at the same time, it's certainly large enough.'

Now desperate to get rid of four nostrils' worth of snot, Denise and Rachel simultaneously grabbed adjoining parts of Julie's apron, buried streaming noses into its welcoming folds of clean cotton and blew: in harmony, loudly, with some honking, and involving huge torrents of thick mucus. As the noses benefited, Julie's beautiful apron paid the price: in hopeless protest, the still-clean sumptuous frill writhed in turmoil as the hitherto spotless, now defenceless, centre was destroyed by thickly gurgling alien forces. The trauma lasted but a few seconds; Rachel and Denise re-emerged and relocated their only slightly soiled handkerchiefs; Julie, with a filthy mess framed by a pretty frill before her, and a hugely gorgeous white bow behind her, returned to one of the barstools

'Okay, let's de-role,' proposed Rachel. 'Julie, are you okay?'

Her friend's immediate response, accompanied by a relaxed smile, confirmed that all was well. Julie then returned to the table, sat down with the other two who, having swapped handkerchiefs, inadvertently or otherwise, were busy dabbing noses. Julie, who hadn’t blown her nose throughout, pulled the wonderfully decorated, miraculously still dry ,‘E’ handkerchief from her apron pocket, shook open its folds, and blew messily

'I don't know about you two,' began Julie, now wiping, 'I've really enjoyed doing this and, to be honest, getting my favourite apron into this state,' still holding her handkerchief, she indicated the expanse of snot laying in her lap, 'was a big part of the fun. Is there anything we can do to try this on a bigger scale, if you two are also keen?'

It was clear that Rachel and Denise were both enthusiastic about developing the idea of the sneezy café further, but agreed with Julie that they wouldn't be comfortable in going public with the concept. 

'I've done a bit of research,' Julie went on, 'and discovered a community sneeze forum based on the east coast. I've been in touch and found out that their ladies-only section is currently looking for fund-raising ideas'

'I think I know where you're going with this,' Rachel replied cheerily, 'and, yes, I'm in: let's see if they're also interested in the idea of a sneezy café'

'Count me too,' added Denise, also with a huge smile

Julie, temporarily forgetting the state of her apron, slapped her thighs in acknowledgement of their agreement to take a next step

'Yeuk,' she exclaimed, 'can I have one, or probably both, of those handkerchiefs of mine you've been using, so I can wipe your snot off my hands? While I'm doing that, one of you can make a note of any ground rule changes we think are needed: are there any?'

The three friends all laughed, and agreed that their first sneezy café experience had been a positive one

All clean and tidy! In the second part of this episode, Julie wears this ruffled apron with the ‘E’ handkerchief in one of its pockets. Rachel and Denise use the two other identical handkerchiefs embroidered with blue flowers

 

 

 

 

 

   

[launderedlace]

Very probably, I’ve caused some confusion with the numbering of parts - sorry!

In the fairly unlikely event that this clarifies, the storyline evolves in this order:

i)   Prequel - Embroidered handkerchief distraction [observation]

ii)  Embroidered handkerchief distraction - the fiction [original fiction] (parts 1 to 7) 

iii) ‘Rachel and Julie’ side-story [original fiction] (parts 1 to 3) - turned out not to be a side story, but a continuation of the original one 

iv) Embroidered handkerchief distraction - the fiction [original fiction] (part 8 - which I forgot to number! ... and this one, part 9 ... there may be more!) 

Part 9 - the sneezy café at the East Coast Sneezing Forum

During the next few weeks, several Zoom calls took place with Davina, Chair of the East Coast Sneezing Forum (ECSF). From the outset, it was clear that she and other women in her group were hugely enthusiastic about the idea of a sneezy café fundraiser. It was agreed that Rachel, Julie and Denise would drive over in a hire van, equipped with everything they’d used in the try-out at Rachel’s house; naturally, they’d have their expenses paid in recognition of all the time and energy they’d be investing. Davina confirmed that the ground rules worked out earlier were entirely acceptable; the only small change made to them by Rachel and her team was a clarification that the waitresses would collect customers’ used handkerchiefs and put them into a laundry basket to be provided for each table. Thirty guests would attend, seated at three tables, Davina herself would help the three others with the waitressing duties, with ECSF to provide two additional people to help in the background with washing up and the like

‘I think we can pretty much guarantee that everyone present will have the sniffles,’ Davina explained, ‘it’s the sort of thing we’re pretty good at! We’ll stipulate that everyone brings a minimum of six clean handkerchiefs; I’ve also got a frilly white apron I’ll bring out of retirement: I’ve not used it since I last worked professionally as a waitress.’ As they ran through these points, Davina indulged in some on-line snuffling, using a large white handkerchief, sumptuously decorated with a huge ‘D’ surrounded by prettily appliqued butterflies, all embroidered in pale blue

‘That’s lovely,’ remarked Denise, ‘I’d certainly like to bury my nose into that!’

Sometime later, following an early start and a drive across the country, Rachel, Julie and Denise arrived at the venue in good time to set up. All of them were currently free from any trace of a cold, so much so that one shared handkerchief between the three of them had been sufficient during the entire journey: one of Julie’s plain white men’s ones with its simple ‘J’ monogramme. Julie herself had merely randomly sneezed into it once; both Denise and Rachel had needed to do nothing more with it other than use it for a single, straightforward nose-blow each. So, despite three people using it over the course of four hours its state, where it now lay in Rachel’s pocket, would be described by many people as reasonably clean

Davina and the two assistants, the latter two already clad in flowery aprons and ready to get to work in the kitchen, were there to meet the team. As agreed during their on-line sessions, much of the preparatory setting out of the room was already completed: everything else needed was unloaded from the hire van and, over the course of the next hour, put in place. The overall effect was impressive; a scaling up of what had been trialled at Rachel’s: a totally convincing 1950s café. Its transformation into a sneezy café was imminent; with the guests due to begin arriving in ten minutes, the four waitresses tied on their first set of spectacular ruffled white waist aprons covering their black skirts, topped by white blouses. Davina’s apron was the only one for which the white was complemented by any other colour: a magnificent arc of extravagantly embroidered blue flowers. Their ensembles were completed with name tags and lacy waitresses’ caps

‘My grandmother used this to serve afternoon teas during the 1960s,’ Davina explained smoothing down her apron, ‘she related how even that kind of sedate use would leave it quickly marked and smudged; goodness knows what state it’ll end up in today!’

Hoping there would be no further recourse to it during the next couple of hours, the three other waitresses all gave their noses a final blow into Julie’s plain white ‘J’ handkerchief; just in case it was needed, though, Julie tucked it into a sleeve of her blouse. Guests arrived, several of them sneezing, honking, otherwise nose-blowing, or simply dabbing into a handkerchief as they entered the room: things looked promising! As they were allocated to their tables each of them, dutifully following advice, laid a small stack of handkerchiefs to their left. Davina welcomed everyone, thanked them for their generous donations to the fundraiser so far, introduced Rachel, Julie and Denise, and provided a reminder of the ground rules. In terms of working the tables, each of the other three would take the lead on one table, with back-up being provided by Davina as needed. The event proper began: guests’ glasses were filled with their initial drink of choice

In order to get a sense of how busy they might become, and where Davina might best be deployed, the waitress team asked guests at each table how many of them thought they were likely to want to sneeze or nose blow into an apron. An initial show of hands revealed three for Denise's table, five for Julie's and eight for Rachel's: in all likelihood Davina would be spending much of her time helping Rachel!

True to expectations, as the event moved on to sandwiches and savouries, the room continued to resonate to a succession of sneezes and nose-blows; volume-wise, conversation came a murmured third. Soon, the waitresses’ apron pockets were filled with used handkerchiefs: medium-sized ones patterned with pastel squares, large monochrome men’s ones, pretty white embroidered and lace edged ones, huge silk ones; all to be consigned to the wash basket assigned to each table. As had been statistically likely, Rachel’s apron was the first to be used by a guest, a woman in a red dress, who’d just sneezed wetly into an attractive, newly-unfolded, men’s handkerchief. The woman looked enquiringly at Rachel over her two-toned grey handkerchief, bordered with narrow white and red satin stripes; uncharacteristically, thought Rachel of herself, she was paying particular attention to this handkerchief

‘Pardon me; I can see you’ve remained totally neat and tidy up until this point, but would I be able to blow my nose onto your lovely apron?’

‘Of course, madam,’ replied Rachel obligingly, moving to stand next to the woman and offering her the apron’s gorgeous broderie anglaise frill, ‘that’s what it’s for!’

Clutching her handkerchief and the ruffled edge of Rachel’s apron in one hand, its centre in her other, the woman positioned her nose exactly where she wanted it. A brief pause, then a huge blow accompanied by the sound of gurgling snot flowing into Rachel’s welcoming apron. Lowering it, the woman immediately caught sight of the havoc she’d inflicted

‘Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry I’ve caused so much mess; are you going to have to change it immediately?’  

‘Really, don’t worry, I’m sure it’s about to be on the receiving end of plenty more like that,’ Rachel replied, smiling. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, and men’s handkerchiefs aren’t usually my thing, yours is a particularly lovely one.’

The woman, glancing at her nearly clean handkerchief, confided with Rachel that it had belonged to her husband, but she’d recently taken it over; to her, it wasn’t anything otherwise special, so would Rachel like to have it? Rachel couldn’t quite understand why, but she felt a sense of real pleasure at the woman’s offer, which she readily accepted. So as not to lose it amongst the others used by guests and now bulging her apron pockets, she tucked her new acquisition into her sleeve. No sooner had she done this, than she became aware of two other guests at her table requesting the use of her apron; as a third guest raised her hand to make a similar ask, Rachel was grateful to see Davina stepping forwards to assist. Glancing up, she surmised that the crisp folds of Julie's apron had been modified by only a single large snotty smear and moderate crumpling; Denise's, other than a tiny damp patch on a pocket, caused by the bundle of used handkerchiefs it contained, still appeared perfectly clean

By the time Rachel and Davina had assisted those three customers at their table, the sandwich stands were half empty and needed refilling from the kitchen, as did everyone's glass. Efficient as ever, Rachel bustled backwards and forwards: her cap, blouse and visible part of her skirt, spotless; her apron very much at a tipping point: half of its front still displaying starched, crisply ironed folds; half now crumpled, decorated by those unrestrained blasts from three snotty noses. Finally, Rachel noticed, as she continued with her bustling, Denise's apron had snot on it: partway down and to one side; sizeable patches whose mess extended onto the pretty broderie anglaise frill.

A different, older, woman at Rachel's table requested her attention, waving a hand which held a glass of fizz and an enormous and unfurled, ancient lace handkerchief. Rachel, refocusing, remembered that out of the corner of her eye, she'd seen the woman sneeze into something just moments before; clearly it had been this handkerchief. In terms of beauty, it was quite the equal of anything in Rachel's own collection; feeling an immediate empathy with the woman, she engaged

'Oh, my goodness, your handkerchief's the loveliest thing I've seen today, and I've somehow got a feeling that you know everything about its history'

The woman, sniffing and dabbing, confirmed that, yes, it had been in her family for four generations but, despite that, she believed it was important to gently use it as often as was practicable.

'I do now have a very messy nose, though,' the woman continued, 'rather than subject my fragile handkerchief to a vicious torrent of snot, might I be able to use your apron?'

Davina, who had been within earshot and whose apron was significantly less messy than Rachel's, chipped in and offered to help

'Thank you,' replied Rachel, appreciatively, 'but there's still plenty of clean, dry fabric on mine'

One minute and three snotty eruptions later, eruptions which were loud enough to pause nearby conversations, the proportion of clean white fabric protecting the front of Rachel's skirt was reduced significantly. Nevertheless, as she hurried back to the kitchen, and this was equally true of the three other waitresses, the huge bow of her enormously wide apron ties continued to bob in its state of pristine obliviousness

Amongst themselves, the waitress team had earlier agreed that when the guests switched from sandwiches to cakes might be a convenient, possibly necessary, time to change aprons. The case for Rachel doing so was obvious; Julie's, also, was now very messy and, of the four, it was the most crumpled: a woman on her table who'd used the apron had finished off by crunching it into a tight ball around the snot she'd just left there. Davina and Denise, who'd each only helped two guests clear out their noses, decided to keep the aprons they were already wearing

Rachel, bearing a heavily-laden cake stand, and now sporting a spotless, full length white apron adorned with double ruffles of broderie anglaise, returned to her table. A backlog of used handkerchiefs there quickly filled her apron pockets

'I think I'm about to have my biggest sneeze of the afternoon,' announced the former owner of the grey handkerchief, 'will I be able to use your fresh apron to catch it please, Rachel?'

Although Rachel had harboured faint hopes that her attire would remain snot-free for a few more minutes, she happily obliged. Grasping the tiers of frills almost frantically and holding them close to her face, the woman arched slowly backwards, hesitated, inhaled sharply, then jolted forwards at a high speed that was exceeded only slightly by that of the spray her exploding sneeze ejected. The outliers of her snot first splattered onto the flounced fabric; a fraction of a second later, her supersaturated nose nestled into the ruffles

Unsurprisingly, the pattern of how the woman then used Rachel's new apron, and the consequential mess, were not at all unlike the first time. To be fair, Davina dealt with the next three requests for sneezing and nose-blowing at the table; after that, hers was the messiest apron in the room. Julie escaped almost until the end when she was asked if her apron could be used for nose-wiping following the complete overwhelming of a small, prettily-embroidered handkerchief

Finally: eating, drinking, sniffing, nose-blowing and chatter came to an end. Once Davina had delivered her parting vote of thanks, still wearing her gallant apron, the thirty guests departed

'I knew it would get messier than when my grandmother used it for afternoon teas,' she joked, making possibly the understatement of the year, 'but it beats me why, as Julie has just pointed out, there's snot all over its bow! Don't worry about the laundry baskets of dirty handkerchiefs, I'll arrange a working group to launder them, taking particular care with that delicate heritage lace one, and we'll get them back to their owners at the next ECSF meeting. Again, thank you so much, ladies, for coming over, giving up your time, and making it such a memorable occasion for everyone.'

At last, they were all able to remove their aprons, change out of the rest of their waitress attire, and de-role

'Well, that was quite an experience,' shared Denise during the long drive home, 'I did enjoy it, but I also think it's one I've now ticked off my bucket list and I might not need to do it again!'

'Absolutely,' agreed Julie, 'and I must say that everyone was very kind, friendly and totally respectful. But I am looking forwards to getting home, using my handkerchiefs in my usual manner and getting nothing more than a smudge of cake icing smeared onto my aprons.'

Rachel, having just blown her nose into her two-toned grey men's handkerchief, was busily wiping stray bits of snot onto its satiny border

'Would anyone else like to use this? I think it'll be my keepsake from the day'

'Yes please', replied Julie

'After you, Julie,' were Denise's final words, as they continued into the night

 

Footnote: actual quote from the original real-world owner of Davina's apron (pictured)

'Most of the women in _________ used them in the 1960s. They were used to protect clothes when serving at coffee mornings or afternoon teas, and also used when a lady's son or daughter was getting married. It didn't take long to get them marked, so they were washed every time they were worn'

 

Davina's 'D' and butterfly handkerchief (much admired by Denise), Julie's plain men's 'J' handkerchief, and the frill of Rachel's first apron

[launderedlace]

Part 10 - the wider corporate picture

Julie found herself back in the office of her Director, Kate. With her were Denise, who worked in a different part of the organisation, and Rachel, who’d been brought in from the consultancy she was employed by

‘Well, ladies, thank you for coming in; obviously, you’ll have some idea what this is about but, in fairness to yourselves, I’ll begin by scoping out where I think we might run with this, then I’ll hand over to yourselves, the undoubted experts’

Denise was unsure she was in the same league as the other two; Julie, in turn, still regarded Rachel as the real expert. But they kept those thoughts to themselves, as Kate continued

‘You’ll recollect, some time ago, that Julie produced a briefing note for staff throughout the Directorate which highlighted some key perspectives around the benefits of handkerchief use. The senior leadership team were impressed, and very much see it as a useful case study to encourage staff to align their own lifestyles with our corporate sustainability goals. We're now at the stage of working up a package to roll out across the entire office then, potentially, to go national with it. Are there any questions so far?'

There weren't, so Kate continued

'Obviously, we're not intending to put all our eggs in one basket: we'll be looking at issues such as active travel, tree planting, accessing advice on home insulation and energy saving, and skills swaps; with handkerchiefs, they’ll form part of the continuing sustainable fashion theme'

As she paused, Kate sniffed, reached into a side pocket of her suit and retrieved something Julie immediately recognised: Kate's huge lace handkerchief embellished with the enormous 'K'. In fact, the folds that Kate was now shaking out were Julie's; the handkerchief had not been used since she had laundered and returned it to Kate following the earlier nose-blowing tutoring session in which this handkerchief had played a central role

'That's beautiful,' murmured Denise, eyeing the cascades of lace that now hung, in the manner of a temporarily stilled foamy waterfall, below Kate's nose.

Kate's expression suggested she'd heard Denise's comment but, rather than pause to reply, she proceeded to blow her nose. As the wetness of Kate’s snot invaded the fabric in a series of surges, the re-energised waterfall of lace rippled and danced as if in celebration. Wishing to quickly resume her explanation, Kate expertly wiped her nose to finish and lay her handkerchief down on her desk: mess concealed, vast expanses of lace and Julie’s surviving folds very much to the fore

Quite by chance, at that very moment, a twitch in Rachel's nose alerted her to an imminent sneeze: by instinct, realising it provided the most immediate solution, she grabbed Kate’s nearby handkerchief, raised it to her nose in a hasty and disorderly manner, and exploded wetly into the lace, embroidery and delicate fabric

‘Excuse me, I’m so sorry,’ she apologised, slightly muffled, from behind the soft barrier of Victorian loveliness

‘Good grief, that’s quite alright,’ Kate assured her, ‘go ahead and give your nose a good blow. If anyone else would also like to use it, please do, it’s not there just to look pretty ’

Rachel, despite realising there was now a copious amount of snot already trickling out of her nose, felt she’d perhaps already taken too much advantage of Kate’s handkerchief, so returned it to the desk and then reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved her own, slightly less accessible one. She deftly shook out the folds of her only men’s handkerchief, the two-toned grey one, itself considerably smaller than Kate’s lacy expanse, raised it to her nose and blew. During the course of her usual cycle of blowing: one semi-honk followed by three softer blows, all repeated several times over, the audible volume of moving snot increased and then tailed off. To complete, she indulged in a series of large wipes, utilising the handkerchief’s attractive bands of white and red satin. Having quickly checked the mess that now lay in its centre, Rachel returned her handkerchief to her pocket, a little less clean, a little crumpled and its lattice of regimented folds in serious disarray .

Kate resumed her main theme

‘With Rachel on secondment, I’d like her to focus on coordinating across those wider issues; Julie and Denise, I’d like you to ensure that the handkerchief sub-theme sits within sustainable fashion as an integral part.’

As the discussion continued on how to most effectively pull together the various campaign strands, Denise took her turn with Kate’s handkerchief. Still clean in parts and displaying some folds, it was relatively easy for her to avoid Kate’s thick snot and the damp areas of Rachel’s sneeze and trickles. She blew firmly, twice: noise, surging wetness and shimmering white foaminess reminiscent of waves breaking on a pebble beach; then, as she wiped to finish, she became aware that Julie had just sniffed. Denise took the logical course of action and passed the handkerchief to Julie, now in line to be the fourth person to use it.  

‘I’ve got a few more minutes before my next meeting,’ continued Kate, ‘shall we see what we can come up with in terms of draft headlines to promote handkerchiefs?’

With the expertise in the room, it didn’t take long to come up with some key positive points and myth-busters about handkerchiefs

• They’re strong and durable
• Repeated washing makes them softer
• Successful historical marketing campaigns against handkerchiefs had failed to consider the whole picture
• Lightly used handkerchiefs are easy to wash
• They don’t have to be ironed (although doing so can be therapeutic)
• There’s a huge resource of unused handkerchiefs out there
• Many handkerchiefs are attractive in their own right
• They’re part of social history

‘Fantastic work, everyone; if we’ve come up with this in a few minutes, I’m confident we can effectively weave handkerchiefs into our wider perspectives. Shall we leave it there for the moment, or are there any final thoughts?’

Julie had been tightly clutching, as a scrunched up snotty ball, the part of Kate’s handkerchief already used by the other three women and had only, so far, used the outside of this ball to gently dab and discretely manage her sniffs. Now, however, she rearranged the fabric more purposely, firstly pulling open the heavily crumpled part and discovering the mess it contained: snot was already layered upon snot, with several dirty tentacles bridging crumples and clinging to the indignant lace, the green elastic only parting as the spans it was attempting to bridge became too large due to Julie's pulling. It was impossible to know whose snot was whose; it had combined into a single extensive thickly coagulating stain. The other, uncrumpled, half of the handkerchief, complete with its immense 'K' formed by myriads of tiny, prettily embroidered flowers, remained immaculate. Defiant but fearful, the remnant squares of precise, lightly starched fabric that she herself had created, trembled below Julie’s clenched fist

Unknown to anyone present, two lifetimes ago Kate's grandmother had flirted coquettishly with the same handkerchief; on more than one occasion letting it flutter to the floor, in the nearly always fulfilled expectation that one gentleman or another would gallantly retrieve it for her. Generally, the conversations she conducted were accompanied by flamboyant handkerchief flourishes; inevitably, as she lightly touched a gentleman's hand or cheek, his skin was also ‘accidentally’ brushed by the delicate yet sumptuous lace. Just once, the dropped handkerchief had not been handed back to her immediately: only after a period of two weeks was it mysteriously returned; freshly laundered but with a scent which differed from her traditional lavender. What might have happened to her handkerchief, in the hands of a supposed admirer, during the interlude: surely it had not been sullied to a greater extent than by the one genteel dab and sniff she permitted herself per social engagement?

Julie buried her snot-filled nose into the chaotic mess already left by the others, and blew fiercely. After clinging to the inside of her nose and seemingly howling in protest, her thick snot finally lost its grip and spurted as a bubbling torrent from her nostrils, surpassing anything the other three women had inflicted on the beautiful heirloom handkerchief. As her nose emptied, she became conscious of the accumulated oozing snot now smearing the outside of her nose. She needed, urgently, to move to a clean part of the handkerchief but in doing so had to lower it revealing, fleetingly, the glistening slime now covering her face. Self-consciously, unaware that only Rachel had noticed her predicament, Julie hastily submerged her nose back into the remaining tidy folds and exquisite embroidery, and began to wipe vigorously and methodically. This was a process that took time, and it was only when she was completely confident that no trace of anyone’s snot remained on her face that she was able to turn her attention to drying inside her still moist nostrils. By now, the entirety of the handkerchief was either slightly messy or extremely messy; selecting a relatively dry area Julie, using the index finger of each hand, pushed the soft fabric up inside her nostrils and massaged. Finishing, she examined the latest damp crumples

‘Kate, I’m afraid we’ve all got your handkerchief into a horribly filthy state, would you like me to wash it again and get it back to you?’

Kate indicated that would be fine, so Julie pushed it into her sleeve alongside the clean one that was already there. As everyone seemed clear about their next steps with the project, the meeting concluded. Kate, having found a fresh handkerchief in her bag, began to unfold it as she went out to speak with her PA  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Snotlvr]

Great story! Very well written

[launderedlace]

Way back in this story-line, Julie buys her first pair of embroidered, flowery handkerchiefs from the vintage stall in the market that she visits with Rachel. Here are the real-life handkerchiefs which inspired that part of the story: now that they're posted in the SFF gallery, they might not disappear as randomly!

 

[launderedlace]

In Part 3, Rachel and Julie share a handkerchief that's decorated with a huge 'A' monogramme - that fictional handkerchief is based on this one from the LL collection