During my happy childhood in Plumstead, 
                  ‘Lower Plumstead’ as it is now called, I spent a 
                  great deal of time with my great-grandmother, Harriet Pearce, 
                  who lived just a few doors away from us in Hartville Road. 
                Harriet had come to London from Bawtrey, 
                  in Yorkshire, as a position had been obtained for her working 
                  as a housemaid in St Margaret’s Grove. She was twelve 
                  years old! How she actually got to Plumstead and why Plumstead 
                  we do not know. For many years her little straw suitcase, in 
                  which she carried her few belongings for her journey to Plumstead, 
                  was stowed in a cupboard; I remember it very clearly. 
                 It was around the time of the building 
                  of the ‘Plumstead Estate’, which stretched from 
                  the Common to the boundary of the Dockyard. The houses closest 
                  to the Common were very grand: these accommodated the managerial 
                  staff; the houses were slightly smaller further down the hill, 
                  towards Lakedale Road, built for mid-management; and then, closer 
                  to the Royal Arsenal, hundreds of small terraced dwellings, 
                  built for the families of the huge workforce. We lived in this 
                  section, but Harriet, having become familiar with the ‘middle 
                  class’ way of life as a servant, endeavoured to emulate 
                  that lifestyle, on a smaller scale. She was dignified and proud 
                  and modelled herself on Queen Mary.
                Once a year, just before Christmas, 
                  she always took me to Heddle’s, a large draper’s 
                  shop in Thomas Street. We always took the bus, which terminated 
                  just outside. In we marched ceremoniously. Harriet would sit 
                  herself down on one of the high chairs provided and, after the 
                  normal salutations, would ask to see ‘your finest men’s 
                  handkerchiefs’. Out came the glass fronted boxes, stacked 
                  from floor to ceiling. Much fingering for quality and discussion 
                  about durability. Finally a decision and the selected handkerchiefs 
                  would be solemnly wrapped, with brown paper and string. Transaction 
                  completed, and with more salutations, the door solemnly opened 
                  for us by the manager and home we went. Christmas shopping for 
                  the men done and dusted!
                Harriet had a hat! It was quite large, 
                  just like Queen Mary wore, in a stiff black felt with a large 
                  brim. Just before Easter, every year, the hat had to be refurbished. 
                  So off we went to Woolwich, on the tram on these occasions, 
                  to visit Woolworth's in Hare Street. Straight to the ‘trimmings’ 
                  counter, where there were flowers, veils, ribbons, buttons and 
                  bows. Much deliberation took place as to what colour they should 
                  be, how large or small, not too showy and, of course, sewing 
                  thread to match, exactly – the hat had to attend many 
                  and varied occasions. A short walk down Hare Street to the tram 
                  terminus at the Ferry and we were on our way back home to Plumstead, 
                  Grandma Harriet clutching her precious purchases which would 
                  restore her hat gloriously for the coming year. 
                Sheila Lee (nee Jordan)