Knobs Hill Road (Rude UK number 35) is now mostly industrial, but there is a small enclave at one end of the street where the splendor of its Victorian past is still evident. In this exclusive ghetto, a few of the old-wealth families still live in a style that most Londoners only know about from books. Gone are the liveried coachmen and footmen of the past, but there are butlers, chauffeurs, cooks, kitchen maids, and housemaids. The interiors of the houses display elegant wood paneling adorned with shining brass fixtures. The area is an island of highbrow elegance in the midst the lowbrow. Not far away, in Victoria Park, the Underage Festival and the High Voltage Festival are held every July.
After a walk through the enclave, Laetitia took her group to several art galleries. Afterward most of the group wanted to shop. Laetitia wasn’t interested in shopping, so everyone agreed to meet at a nearby pub at a designated time. The pub they had chosen was working class. Laetitia sat at the bar within earshot of a table of young women, whose uniforms suggested that they were housemaids. A snippet of conversation she overheard provided the limerick of the day.
“June, do you mean that all you do at work each day is polish brass knobs?”
“Almost. There are gobs of knobs. I like my work. Some of the knobs are beautifully cast and are interesting shapes. There are a lot worse chores than polishing knobs.”
A housemaid named June who loved jobs
Where she got to polish the knobs
Enjoyed an abode
That was on Knobs Hill Road
Where knobs of all shapes came in gobs.