Leisure on the Green

 A search for the word "Green" in the newspapers of the early 1930s brings up a surprising amount of articles about bowling greens and putting greens. The rise of the cult of leisure in this period benefited those who partook in these sedate pursuits. Countless new smooth green places for rolling balls around were opened - particularly in those towns who wished to promote themselves as resorts. Seaside towns and spa towns were the places to go with their brand new facilities, or newly extended existing play areas for the elderly and retiring. Leamington Spa was the centre of an argument about a putting green - should the council grub up a park to provide a new one or shouldn't they? According to the local newspaper letters page, the town was divided between those who wanted the flowers to remain, and those who wanted to play games and attract more visitors.

There were also moves to permit ladies to play bowls - until this period it was primarily seen as a good way to get a retired man out of the house and out from under his wife's feet. One female member of the local gentry, when attending a celebratory dinner, called bowls a "creche for husbands". But they were increasingly wanting a bit of the action themselves, and forming ladies teams and clubs.

These are sedate pursuits, suitable for all classes and access to a bit of green in increasingly built up and busy towns. It is a connection to a bygone time - Francis Drake playing bowls - aristocratic fads for the game - and as the player gently rolls their ball across the soft green carpet they might have had a little feeling that this was their birthright. It is also perhaps a symbol of better life expectancy, and of more people of retirement age still having the health to get out and find a gentle, social exercise.

Go By Green

 

The Green Line coach company began advertising in Home Counties newspapers in the autumn of 1930. According to the Wikipedia page, the firm was established in July 1930. 

To me, the company ranks alongside the Metropolitan line as an icon of suburban living in this period. The buses enabled residents of the rural districts of the home counties to visit London and get their shopping done, perhaps one day a month. At the weekends, the buses will have been used by ramblers and those seeking a rural idyll away from the smoke. The earliest advert that I have seen say that  buses started and finished at Charing Cross tube station and passed through Oxford Circus. Soon swallowed up by London Transport, the advertising got the same treatment as the tube with artist designed posters that emphasised the draw of the service. 

Of course the buses wore a green livery. This association with the colour must have been deliberate, it was what they were about. Getting people to and from the green spaces. I expect the buses were eyecatching on the streets of London among all the smoke stained buildings, and looked at home when they reached their destinations. They brought the country into the city and made the urbanites realise what they were missing. They told us that this is where we really belonged.

Tricky Green

 Despite a long history of the colour green being considered unlucky (because it belonged to the faeries and other creatures that it was wise not to "steal" from), by the early 1930s it was an incredibly popular fashion choice. Particularly at weddings. One local newspaper wedding write up  in the early part of the decade observed that the bride and her bridesmaids had eschewed tradition by dressing in the colour. Search the British Newspaper Archive for "Apple Green" and "Eau-de-Nil" throughout the 1930s and it appears in countless wedding write ups as the colour of a gown.

In 1933, the Falkirk Herald's "Feminine Reflections" page contained advice on which shade of green to choose. It was titled "Tricky Green" and was written by Violet Dismore.

"Superstition about green has in the past saved many women from making some bad mistakes in the choice of colour, because all shades of green were debarred from their wardrobe....comparatively few seem aware that there is danger in green - not in the superstitious sense, but in matter of shade."

Violet tells us that to wear the wrong shade for your natural colouring is asking for trouble - for all your weak points to be highlighted. The sallow become more so, pale girls look as though they are sick. She goes on to offer guidance. Only wear bottle green if you are blonde or have a bright complexion. Only wear emerald or lettuce if you are very young. Grass green is great for a readhead, while the darker haired should go for moss. Confused? Then Myrtle or Sage are your best bets, as they will suit most people. 

This demonstrates that the 1930s had become the age of reason, the machine age where we no longer bowed to nature, but controlled it and used it to our best advantage. 

Greengates

 

"Greengates" by R.C. Sherriff, was published in 1936. It concerns a retired couple, the Baldwins, who decide to buy a brand new house in Metro-Land. Although this marketing construct is never mentioned by name, the house is on a new estate in a village north-west of London - a place that soon becomes suburban rather than rural. Metro-Land and ribbon developments around cities, which appeared in the inter-war period, demonstrates a mass desire to get away from urban living and return to the idea of a pastoral England. So many people wanted this that it became a self-defeating move, with rural areas around London in particular becoming swamped by new developments. The typically "Tudorbethan" architecture often seems to have had doors, window frames and gates painted green. Here's an extract from "Greengates" (p205 Persephone edition)

They were standing with the manager, discussing the final painting of the exterior. "Green" agreed Tom and Edith, "a rich, deep green". 

"You're right", said the Manager "you're never wrong with green - it'll look well against light coffee-cream walls. And the gates?"

"Green" said Mr Baldwin, green gates."

This can only be seen as a reflection of the desire to be among the green of the country, a statement of intent to be rural dwellers, to own their own piece of the country.