=?ISO-8859-1?Q?Brighton_in_August_1918_=96_'k?=

In the piece below,
1 A ?knut' was, according to my SOED,

?joc(ular) sp(elling) and pron(unciation) of ?nut' (= ?dandy') 1911'.

Under ?nut', one sees
?A swell, dandy 1904'.
Much the same animal as the ?masher' ? as previously discussed (1) ? but from a generation or so later.
2 The ?silver badge (which) gleamed in his button-hole' must, Isurmise, be some token that the man had been discharged from the armed forces, and was therefore not to be pestered by ninnies with white feathers, or picked up by military policemen for desertion. Is that right?
From the London ?Daily News' of August 19 1918 (p3 col 1 ? click 4 times (don't ask!) on article) (2).
?Brighton in War-Time
Scenes Reminiscent of Peace Days
Silver-Badged Men
By Our Special Correspondent
Brighton, Sunday.
This fifth August of the war has seen the return of the "Knut" of the gay old summer days before 1914 to the seaside. The summer girl, who for four dreary seasons has taken her daily dip alone and worn her smartest clothes unadmired by young male eyes, is neglected no longer.

The first of the new contingent I saw on Brighton front this morning. He was young, tall, and slim, and walked with a stiff erectness far removed from the old-fashioned slouch. A silver badge gleamed in his button-hole, and his suit was immaculately tailored - with a waist-line. The girls glanced at him with envy. As he walked briskly along, swinging his silver-topped cane, he seemed to bring back an atmosphere of long ago.
Silver-Badges First
Never for hour years have I seen so many young men in mufti. To every two girls on the parade I counted at least one man. There is always plenty of khaki and blue at Brighton, but this month the silver-badged men quite equal them in number. It is touching to see how the girls look after their returned soldiers. They have slipped easily into the rôle of protectors. At the toll-gates at the piers they stand aside to let the men go first, and when the rough shingle has to be crossed their strong young arms are there ready to give support.

The silver badge man is the centre of the jolliest parties, whether on the beach, the piers or the parade. Many couples seem to be enjoying a second honeymoon, while others have little groups of children with them, delighting in father's first holiday with them since the war.

The knut of a younger generation still has also come in to his own. Everywhere you will see boys just under military age glorifying in the freedom of prosperous independence and a holiday "on their own." They stay in little parties at the boarding-houses, and high wages have given them plenty of money to spend. Their suits, maybe, would not pass muster in the West End, but many already have learnt the advantages of good tailoring, and they wear them with a fine air, and their Homburgs have a rakish tilt.
Effects of Good News
Generally, it may be noted, the strain of four years of war has been somewhat relaxed. The good news from the front provides a welcome excuse for expansion, and on every side you hear men and women telling each other that "this is the first real holiday I have had for four years." After all, ligh6ing restrictions, and ration allowances quite unequal to the demands of the seaside appetite are trivial things when August is with us and the war news is good!Good humour and gaiety predominate, and if it be true, as those familiar with Brighton in these days know it is, that some of the saddest effects of war are seen here too, even these on such a day as this appear to strike a less pathetic note than of old. There are no *** minstrels, no ice-cream men and sweet stalls on the beach. Instead, it is dotted with gay red and green umbrella tents, round which little family parties gather and picnic for the day.

There is something of the atmosphere of the French plage about it all. There are no trippers and no rowdiness. Nearly all the visitors are in family parties, from the London suburbs or elsewhere, and for the most part the quiet pleasure of a deck chair on the beach or a stroll on the promenade suffices. In every respect it is a typically English crowd, and, despite much talk to the contrary, there are relatively few signs of any exotic element about.
Housing the 50,000
Brighton is said to have 50,000 visitors, and how it has fed and housed them all is a marvel. Hotels and boarding houses are, of course, full, but the greatest demand is for rooms. Main thoroughfares and little-known byways alike have been invaded, and the smallest villa has its perambulator in the garden and a row of bathing costumes floating from its windows.'
(1) http://groups.google.com/groups?selm=d7fa3848.0208031712.63bf36d6%40posting.google.com (2) http://www.uk.olivesoftware.com/