HõVIS – Your Baker Bakes It

The enduring survival of certain brand names while others perish is sometimes hard to explain. Manufactured bread was an unglamorous product and had to compete with freshly baked loaves on sale in every town and village and business recognised the need for promotion. A competition was held in 1890 to find a name for the flour and baking products being produced by S Fitton & Sons in Macclesfield – the winning entry was Hovis from the Latin hominis vis. The idiosyncratic letter “o” arrived in 1926 as a result of an advertising campaign in which 5 trains were photographed together bearing headcodes that spelt out the name HōVIS. The story goes that the “ō” derived from the headcode for Hounslow. Even if this story is substantially correct, the date can’t be verified. In the advert above from 1921, the product is named as HõVIS with a small tilde, rather than a macron, as in “ō”. It’s a rather tedious mystery and I don’t possess the energy to pursue it any further.

Part of the reason for the longevity of HõVIS is due to the famous TV advertising campaign directed by Ridley Scott in 1973 that captured the public imagination and has been profitably revived from time to time. This commercial set in an idealised Wessex and a companion set in an equally idealised North Country employed sepia tones and regional accents to ingratiate itself with an audience. There also existed a long tradition of promoting the brand name via outdoor advertising in the enamel sign era. This was accompanied by press campaigns in popular magazines of which some examples are shown here. Much was made of the purity and freshness of the product and a link with good health was stressed. American advertising agencies began setting up in Britain in the 1920s and some of that influence can be detected here in the clarity of images and the sentimental appeal of the winsome child receiving instruction in good manners.

The Hovis Road Map was aimed at the prosperous customer whose wealth extended to the ownership of a motor car. Issued in multiple editions throughout the interwar years, in addition to maps it contained road safety information and a company profile. Best of all was the promise to the curious customer of a guided tour of the factory premises. All that was required was to show your copy of the Road Map to the Manager and all would be arranged. To read an earlier post from 2009 on the subject of Hovis sandwich recipes please click here.

The Lost Counties of Merrie England

About a week ago the Environment Agency announced restrictions on the use of water in the south of England. The television news displayed a map of the areas affected – Anglia, Thames, Southern, Veolia Central and Veolia South East. Some of my close relatives live in Veolia Central and they seem to be in complete denial on this point, clinging desperately to the mistaken belief that they live in Hertfordshire or Buckinghamshire. In what used to be known as Kent there is little recognition of the fact that they now reside in Veolia South East. This must be what the Prime Minister means when he speaks of transformational change – the ancient, obsolete and economically unproductive county names can safely be retired and in their place will be the illustrious names of our finest businesses. It’s another win-win, publicity for business (and recognition of their enterprise and achievement) and a handsome contribution to the local exchequer in return – more good news for the hard-pressed taxpayer. This is only a draft of what might result but we have tried to recognise some of the hidden hands that drive our economy whose innate modesty is reflected in their choice of names that entirely conceal their activities. There’s a place for the consultocracy – the companies that selflessly advise our great institutions on how to improve their performance by dismissing their employees, in return for a nominal sum. Some of the more obscure names belong to a new breed of companies (unkindly known to some as outsourcing vultures) bringing the disciplines of the private sector to tasks that used to be carried out at great expense by feather-bedded public sector timeservers with gold-plated pensions. Of course there are massive implications in terms of mapping, signage and postcodes but all too often this country has been held back by the special pleading of vested interests – this is a time for putting economic interests first and foremost going forward. Traditionalists can be expected to resist but their views can be disregarded as victims of false consciousness.

Ellis Martin (1881-1977), Master of the Open Road

Ellis Martin supplied outstanding cover illustrations for Ordnance Survey (OS) maps for two decades between the wars and the images he produced have come to epitomise a golden age of travel and exploration when the pedestrian and the motor car coexisted on more or less equal terms. When he began drawing for the OS in 1919 the typical rambler wore plus fours and a Norfolk jacket. By the time he retired in 1939 the typical outfit was a less formal khaki slacks and short-sleeved pullover with shirt sleeves rolled up. He effortlessly evokes the luxuriance of high summer vegetation and the rolling hills and deep wooded folds of the British countryside. Open topped cars, green country buses, bulging rucksacks, a pipe full of tobacco and best feet forward are the order of the day. In his excellent book, Map Cover Art (1990), the definitive guide to OS graphics, John Paddy Brown describes Ellis Martin as “the Cycling Age and the Motoring Age and the Rambling Age personified”.