Monday, February 28, 2005

Monday

Just a few blobs of the white stuff left here and there, bitter frost this morning.  The sun is shining brightly now and the sky is blue, makes you think that Spring cannot be far away.

The washing machine is whirling away, got about three lots to do.  Hate it when it has to hang around the house to dry in the winter. We have no tumble dryer, used to have one and it came in very handy especially for towels.  Then I have a few more jobs to do before settling down with a book this afternoon.  I have not done much reading lately so it will make a nice change.

The book I am about to start is a novel set in mid-ninteenth century Yorkshire. I have no idea what it will be like. The central character is a doctor.  The blurb on the inside cover reads "We enter the mind first of one, then the other, as a spark catches between them and they fall in love. Where the doctor's mind is direct, focused, obsessive, Marian's is far-ranging and reflective. When the story begins she is a talented pianist and published writer influenced by the radical ideas, He is an outsider, arrived in Yorkshire after years of experience working in Paris.  As their strong attraction draws them together, each affects the other profoundly, and each is changed. But many complex influences put them under the severest of strains and their marriage veers from one direction to another.  The novel is as much a mystery as a love story; the trail of clues the doctor follows creates a growing excitement as we accompany a medical researcher approaching his goal - a scientific breakthrough that could save hundreds of thousands of lives.  The story becomes ever more intriguing as the doctor's all consuming search leads him into the poorest districts of the town where he finds himself bizarrely affected by a gruesome murder."

I usually, but not always, read non-fiction, so this is something of a change for me.  However, I simply have to read it whether it is good or not.  Why? because it is written by Mike's cousin!  Yes, we have a published author in the family and this is his second novel. His first novel won the Commonwealth Writers Prize for Best First Book in 1994.

 I have no idea what awaits me between the pages of this book, maybe I will like it, maybe I will hate it.  We shall see.

You cheered me up so much on a cold Monday morning with your response to my knock knock jokes on the previous entry.  So please, keep them coming.  All and any knock knock jokes are welcome.  You can either post them under comments on the previous entry (where you can read the ones other journallers have contributed) or you can post them on comments here.  Makes a nice change to have a giggle.

Knock Knock

Who's there

Caesar

Caesar who?

Caesar quickly before she gets away!

 

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Knock Knock Joke

I heard this on the radio yesterday and it made me laugh but then silly knock knock jokes usually do.

 

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson who?

You're on the jury!

**********************************************

Here is a real groaner:

Knock knock

Who's there

Aardvark

Aardvark who?

Aardvark a million miles for one of your smiles

If you have any knock knock jokes you would like to share, please put them in comments, we can all have a laugh then.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

More Pictures

Here is Nathan with his other Grandmother, Shirley, and his cousins Amy, Katie, Shana, Jordon and Coral:-

This picture was taken in the church hall of St. Thomas of Canterbury where Nathan was christened.

These were taken the following day at our home:-

We had some snow overnight but the sun is shining brightly and it is melting fast. Looks like I am not going to get any snow pictures this winter apart from on my signature!

Monday, February 21, 2005

Christening Photos

Here are the Christening photos. Well, some of them, there are about sixty in all so there is no way I would post all of them on here.  Hope you enjoy them.

A very proud Grandy:-

Becky brought Nathan over again today and put him in his little suit so that he could have a photo taken with both Mike and myself.

May Nathan walk in the light and love of God all his life.

Update

The Christening went well. I got through the day o.k. and was very heartened by all your messages.

I came on to post some Christening photos but I am getting the ftp problem again "too many gateway sessions" so I am unable to do anything right now. I will post them when I can upload them.  Getting a bit sick of AOL to be honest.  Now I have a password problem. Yes, I do run regular virus checks, yes I do have a firewall.  It seems to be one thing after the other with AOL.

Anyway, not much else to say. We had a little snow but it did not settle.  Have a good week everyone.

 

 

Saturday, February 19, 2005

His Present

We wanted to get our precious Nathan something different and special for his Christening present.  We decided on a chair.  It has two struts across the back, the top one has his name, the second one has his Christening date - 20.02.2005.  Yes, tomorrow is his Christening and his first big public occasion.

The chair has a rush seat and underneath the seat is a wooden plaque stating that the chair is for him from his Nanjay and Grandy.

He came to see us today and tried his present for the first time. He took to it straight away:-

Now that the lovely cards Amy ( link to her journal on the left) made for me have been given I can share a picture of them on here with all of you. They are side by side:-

I shall not be able to attend the Christening tomorrow  or the big party afterwards as some of you already know. I shall be sitting here alone whilst the rest of the family sees him welcomed into God's family and celebrate with each other. Tomorrow is going to be a very hard day for me indeed as you can imagine.  My love for this wonderful little boy is so strong but it has not been strong enough to overcome my problems. However, my love will be there.

Nathan gave me a present today.  He is not quite yet eight months old but I was holding him on my lap when he suddenly looked very hard at me, said "aaahhhh" reached out his arms, put them around my neck and snuggled his face into my neck. He stayed like that for several minutes as though he knew my heart was breaking over tomorrow.  God does compensate us in other ways.

Friday, February 18, 2005

Silence is Golden?

This is Spains Hall near Finchingfield in Essex

 

And here is a strange story that goes with it.

In around 1555 a William Kempe was born in the district. In 1588 he married Philippa Gunter and they moved into Spains Hall, a very impressive red brick Tudor mansion that still stands today. They had one child, a daughter they named Jane.

William had an ungovernable temper. Although he always felt sorry after one of his outbursts and promised to change, he never did. His temper always got the better of him and poor Philippa was always the target. One day in 1621 he started an extremely fierce argument with her. The argument was because of his jealousy. Although they were in their sixties by then, he accused Philippa of seeing another man. His torrent of abuse was awful and he wife was very hurt and deeply distressed. William then took himself off into the woods to calm down. He walked up and down through the trees, going over things in his mind. He had hurt his wife so badly and something needed to be done. Suddenly, an idea came to him. It was his tongue that caused all the problems, so his tongue must pay the penalty. On the spot he made a solemn pledge not to utter another word for seven years.

The last words he spoke aloud were those he uttered in making this pledge.

Unknown to him, he was overheard by a character called “The Raven”. Raven was a man who inhabited the woods and made up potions from herbs and leaves that he could sell to people. Raven was concerned to hear this vow and confronted William, warning him that no good would come of his vow of silence and he had better think again. William only shook his head. Raven warned him again with no better response. Then Raven warned William Kempe that if he lived long enough to complete his promise, he just might find it impossible to then speak at all!

William ignored him and went home to Spains Hall. His family were horrified at his sudden silence and nothing they could do or say would make him communicate with them. Fearing he had been bewitched, they sent for the local vicar who prayed for him. This did not help. They then sent for a doctor but the doctor could find nothing wrong with him and could offer no cure. William took to writing them messages and explained to them what he was doing and why. He also communicated with a man servant in sign language. He was adamant - nothing was going to make him break his vow.

He then made another decision. To remind him of the seven years, he decided to dig seven fish ponds, one for each year of his silence and stock each one with a different species of fish. He dug out the first fishpond and within the first year, three of his servants were drowned although whether they drowned in the fish pond or in the moat which surrounded the house, is not known.

Did he then think of what Raven had said about no good coming of his pledge? He must certainly have recalled Raven’s words when in 1623 Philippa died. Even when she lay dying, he would not utter one single word to her and she must have died an unhappy woman.

The following year whilst out riding he suffered an accident when his horse stumbled and threw him. William’s leg was so badly injured that he was unable to move. He could not call for assistance either, as this would mean breaking his vow. He chose instead to spend the night on the cold ground in the pouring rain. Luckily for him a traveller came across him the following morning and managed to get him back to Spains Hall where he made a slow recovery. In the winter of 1626 he went to a nearby town on some business, taking his man servant with him so that he could communicate using their special sign language. By the time the business was concluded a storm had arisen and was growing worse by the minute. William was certain they could make it back home but the weather grew so bad that the two men had to take shelter in the ruins of a nearby castle.

They tied up their horses and went inside. They were surprised to find a fire smouldering but it was a welcome sight and they put it down to tramps having passed that way earlier. His servant soon went to sleep but William could not sleep, he was worried as to exactly why a fire had been lit and who by. He was restless and anxious. Suddenly he heard muffled voices coming from the floor above so he crept up the stairs and realized the voices were coming from behind a closed door. He put his ear to the door and was horrified the realize that they had stumbled upon a band of thieves who were planning a robbery. He was even more horrified when he heard the name of their intended target - Spains Hall!

He wasted no time in waking his man servant and making off as fast as possible. With the haste and the foul weather, he had not time to explain to his servant the reason for their sudden departure but they headed back towards Spains Hall at all possible speed. They came to a ford but it had been made virtually impassable by the torrent of water. William had no hope of getting across, he was an old man. His servant signalled he would give it a try. Kempe then quickly wrote down brief details of what he had overheard and gave the note to his servant who put it in his pocket before plunging into the river.

William decided to try and find another way home. The young servant safely arrived at the hall. When he took the note from his pocket to show other servants it was totally unreadable so none of the servants had any idea about the plot to rob the Hall or what William had been trying to write down. They did decide that he must be in some sort of serious trouble and that the best thing they could do was all go and look for him. So away they went. Later in the night the robbers reached the Hall. They must have been delighted to find the place deserted and nobody about. They went about plundering the lovely house of all the valuables they could manage. One robber went upstairs to loot the bedrooms. Whilst in one room, he saw a small movement out of the corner of his eye and he immediately drew his pistol and fired at the movement. The body of a little boy slumped at his feet.

William must have been shattered by the tragedy of the night and one would think that he would now break his vow, remembering Raven’s words that no good would come of his silence. However, he had stuck it out this long and was not prepared to back down now.

Finally, in 1628, the last fishpond was dug and stocked. The seven years were nearly over and William Kempe, now aged seventy-three went gladly upstairs to bed knowing that his last night of silence would soon be over and that, come the morrow, he could talk again. He might have been mulling over in his mind what his very first words would be.

In the morning he awoke to discover that he could not move his body at all. Kempe opened his mouth to call for help but found he could not make any intelligible noise. Eventually the servants came up to find out why he had not made an appearance for breakfast. Realizing that something was wrong, they gave him pen and paper. He was unable to write a word. His condition continued to deteriorate throughout the day and before evening he died.

Raven’s words had come true. At the end of seven years William did find that he was incapable of talking and, indeed,  he was unable ever to speak again.

Spains Hall today still occupied

*PLEASE note.  I am having trouble accessing many of your journals. I can open the journal, add a comment, but when I press save all I get is an error message and the comment is lost. When things get back to normal I will visit you all.

 

Thursday, February 17, 2005

FTP

Well, now alerts seem to be working I decided to do a short entry posting a photo that Mike took today.

So I go to keyword FTP. Never had problems before, I have deleted things from time to time so I do not run out of space.  Well, whether I ran out of space or not I cannot tell because I cannot even get into FTP space.  When I try and click on "see my ftp space" all I get is a message saying "sorry, too many gateway sessions!" 

What the hell does this mean?  Does it mean I have had too many sessions, does it mean that too many people are trying to access ftp at one go, but that would not make sense as my ftp space is mine and not anyone elses. And, if I have used up all my space then why can I not get into ftp to delete older things?

I am getting more than a little fed up with AOL right now.  I have contacted  the person at the link that Stuart posted where you can ask about problems. * I see from comments already added that I am not the only one getting the ftp problem.  Also I just went to add a comment to someone's journal only to get a message saying "journals are unavailable" try later.  Come on AOL, we pay enough in subscriptions, get your act together.

Anyway, sorry folks, you will not be getting the photograph after all.  Who knows whether you will ever get pictures again.  Ho hum, think I will go and read a book!

 

 

Quiz Results

Thanks to all of you who took part in the little quiz about me.

The winner is Sara coming in at 67 points (Sara, you know me pretty well) followed by Sandra, Jenny, Sherry, Colleen and Julie all with 50.

It was a bit of fun.  I enjoyed setting it, hope you enjoyed having a go.

A Special Award

Sylvia recently asked people to put their names to a special award for Val's Dad (Val's Thoughts).

Because of the trouble with alerts, Sylvia has asked me to let you know that the award is now ready and can be viewed at

Jottings from the Sticks

It was very nice of Sylvia to do this and I am sure Donald will be very thrilled with his award.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Alerts

Are you having problems with alerts?  Are you getting some but not all?  Are you getting none?  What about comment alerts?

I am getting random journal alerts but have not received any comment added alerts for the last five days.

Stuart has asked that if you are having problems, please go to his journal and add your name and journal link to the comments list. Please visit:-

Alerts

and let Stuart know.

 

 

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Quizz

I made a quizz for you, a quizz about me, I borrowed the idea from Val of Val's Thoughts,  nothing too hard.  Please take part, it is only a bit of fun on a cold and gloomy evening.

QuizYourFriends - Take friend's quiz

 

 

 

For Amy

Amy, this is for you

                             

For those of you that do not know, despite having health problems, Amy spends a lot of her time making hand-made Greetings Cards.

Last week I contacted her and asked if she could make me two special cards for Nathan's Christening.  The cards arrived this morning and they are stunning. 

I wanted to say a public thank you Amy for all your hard work and for making things so beautiful and heartfelt. I know they will be kept and treasured.

So, please friends, if you want to get someone a special card, unlike anything you will find in the shops, please support Amy.  You can find her card site at

Amy's Handmade Cards

You can find her journal at the link on the left of my page.

Big hugs Amy and thanks once again.

 

 

Monday, February 14, 2005

Amour!!

It's that day again!

HAPPY

VALENTINE’S

DAY!

On the Eve of the fourteenth of February, St. Valentine’s Day, a time when all living nature inclines to couple, the young folk in England and Scotland too, by a very ancient custom, celebrate a little festival that tends to the same end. An equal number of maids and bachelors get together, each writes their true or some feigned name upon separate billets, which they roll up, and draw by way of lots, the maids taking the men’s billets and the men’s the maids, so that each of the young men lights upon a girl that he calls his Valentine, and each of the girls upon a young man whom she calls hers. By this means each has two Valentines; but the man sticks faster to the Valentine that is fallen to him, than to the Valentine to whom he is fallen. Fortune having thus divided the company into so many couples, the Valentines give balls and treats to their mistresses, wear their billets several days upon their bosoms or sleeves, and the little sport often ends in love. This ceremony is practiced differently in different counties, and according to the freedom or severity of Madam Valentine. There is another kind of Valentine, which is the first young man or woman that chance throws in your way in the street or elsewhere on that day.

J. Misson De Valbourg (Memoirs and Observations in his Travels Over England).

                                   

 

Despite being attributed to St. Valentine, the custom of choosing sweethearts on the 14th February actually arose in French and English court circles during the fourteenth century. The fourteenth was supposed to be the wedding day of the birds.

The earliest known poem concerning this day is Chaucer’s “Parliament of Fowls” written c. 1381. Thirty years later the poet John Lydgate used the word “valentine” both for the person loved and also the poem sent.

In 1477, Margery Brews wrote to her fiance John Paston as her “right wellbelovyd Voluntyn.”

The Diarist, Samuel Pepys gives excellent descriptions of seventeenth century Valentines, rarely failing to mention the day. His entries for 1666 include references to drawing Valentines by lot, and complaints about the expense of several presents he felt obliged to give the lady who had drawn him, for example “ a dozen pairs of gloves and a pair of silk stockings”. In the nineteenth century more modest gifts were given. In Norwich, Norfolk, people laid packages on doorsteps, banged the knocker and then rushed away.

By the 1860’s Valentine’s Day was big business as special writing paper and cards were being commercially produced.

                                      

It is was widely believed (as above) that the first person seen on the morning of Valentine’s Day would be your future spouse. In 1662, Mrs. Pepys, wife of Samuel, spent the day with her hands over her eyes to avoid seeing some painters working in her house! Children in many areas went from door to door in the early morning singing “Good morrow, Valentine and, in return, expected to receive cakes, fruit or money.

My own Valentine and I exchanged cards this morning and now I am off to have another look at my lovely flowers.  Wishing you all a wonderful Valentine's Day.

Happy Valentine's day Mike, my darling, I love you more than words can ever say. Thank you for being my rock.

 

 

Thursday, February 10, 2005

For David, who took a Bath at the Buildings

This entry is for David who told me he had a bath with the Ladies in Peabody Buildings. I hasten to add he did explain that there was a curtain around the bath so they could not see him, only chat to him!

David also expressed an interest in the historical details I had.

David's journal can be found at:-

The Way Ahead

 

From the Illustrated London News,23rd February 1867

The grand gift of a quarter of a million sterling bestowed on the poor of London by a generous American merchant is applied by the trustees, as our readers are probably aware, to the building of healthy and comfortable dwellings for working-class families, let at a cheaper rate than the wretched apartments for which exorbitant rents are too often paid in the crowded parts of this city. In the number of this Journal for March 10th of last year we gave an Illustration of Peabody-square, Islington, consisting of four blocks of buildings, five stories in height, situated in Essex Road, on the ground formerly Ward’s -place, of one, two or three rooms, with baths and laundries, ample supplies of water and gaslight, shafts for the removal of refuse, and perfect drainage and ventilation, at rents of two shillings and sixpence, four shillings or five shillings per week. We now present a view of Peabody Square, Shadwell, which has been more recently completed. The arrangement of the four buildings which here form the square, is similar to that adopted at Islington The height, however, is greater, as here there are five stories of dwellings and an attic or laundry; whereas at Islington there are only four stories of dwellings and an attic. Each building is 135 feet long by 32 feet wide and contains forty-four tenements of two rooms and sixteen tenements of one room, which will be let at rents varying from 2 shillings to four shillings per week.

The wash-houses and baths on the attic floor are distributed in a manner somewhat different from that hitherto adopted, so as to afford greater accommodation to the tenants without any sacrifice of space.

The buildings are situated at the east end of a large plot of ground which is bounded by Love Lane, High Street, Elm Row and Sun Tavern Gap. As the two latter approaches are mean and inconvenient, the local Board of Works, contemplate considerable improvements in the neighbourhood, by which the buildings will be rendered more accessible from High Street which is the principal thoroughfare of the district.

Here is the actual Illustration of Peabody Square as it appeared in the Illustrated London News.

This is the place where my Great-Grandfather lived with his wife and family. Elm Row is mentioned. After a few years, Great-Grandfather’s income must have increased because he moved out of the buildings and into a little house in Elm Row. This he shared not only with wife Eliza and the five children they had at the time but also with a widow who also had five children, the youngest being only two years. So, three adults and ten children all under one roof. How the poor widow managed in the days when there were no state benefits I just do not know.

The Telegraph 24th December 1868.

THE PEABODY BUILDINGS

If any misanthrope being wished to place himself beyond sight and sound of all the enlivening influences of Christmas, he has only to set his face eastward and take a walk through Shadwell. He will find no gay shops there to allure the man who is anxious to spread good cheer before his friends, or to set children wild with excitement, or to tempt the lovers of bright and cheerful books. At one corner of almost every street he will see a dirty beer-shop, and at the other corner its principal mainstay and support - the pawnbroker’s. (such was Shadwell when my family lived there).

The half-naked children scrambling about in the black mud are evidently quite unconscious that this is a season of universal merry-making. At the corners of dark and narrow courts a knot of gloomy men are standing, not conversing with each other, but looking out into the grim street as if in hope that somebody in want of them may pass that way. Perhaps it is the constant disappointment of this expectation which sets a frown upon their brows, and stamps them with an air of deep dejection. They are most of them willing to work if they could find any to do, but unhappily there is no work for them. The whole place has the look of decay and ruin. Many shops are altogether closed; large factories are silent and deserted. People say that theshipping trade has fallen off, and that the establishments which used to find employment for hundreds of hands, in constructing engines for Government vessels, are now quite idle. Haggard-looking women, with the necks partially bare, and gowns hanging in tatters round their heels, crawl in and out of houses which seem to have all the “Sunday Clothes” of the district hung up at the doors. These are the “leaving shops” where nothing is refused and no questions are asked. The keepers of these dens, the publicans, and the pawnbrokers, seem to divide the greater part of the trade of Shadwell between them.

In the very worst part of this miserable locality the chance visitor will be surprised to come suddenly upon a pile of buildings which presents a striking contrast to the hovels surrounding them on every side. There are four huge blocks, each as large probably as the Grosvenor mansions, although designed in a much humbler style of architecture. They form a large square, and are separated from the main street by a gateway. Within the enclosed space apartments have been provided for about 200 families, and a few months ago the buildings were fully occupied. When the earnings of the very poor are stopped, a rent of even half-a-crown a week becomes more than they can pay. If they lived in any of the dismal courts in the neighbourhood, they would have their few household goods seized, and be turned into the streets. In Peabody Square as these blocks of houses are called, a tenant who is known to be industriously inclined may be sure of considerate treatment. They will not take paupers. Yet the mere erection of the houses has contributed to the wealth of the parish. The local rates levied upon the Peabody Buildings at Shadwell for the current quarter amount to £102.12s. But the guardians think that the institution ought to take people out of the workhouses and keep them free of expense. They misunderstand Mr. Peabody’s design and wishes.

Supposing that a poor man is tired of the dirt and beggary of a Shadwell court, he gets a letter of recommendation from his employer and goes with it to the Peabody buildings. If he wants one room, he pays for it 2s.6d. Per week; for two rooms, 4s; for three rooms 5s. He is obliged to state his average wages, and if they amount to more than thirty shillings per week, he is refused admission. A glance over the books shows that the tenants chiefly belong to the poorer classes of mechanics, labourers, porters, carmen, a few policemen, compositors and watchmakers.

The truth is, that the buildings do not seem to have been constructed on the best models that could have been chosen. We do not know by what name the architect would prefer to describe the style he has followed; but to the common observer it seems to be a cross between the reformatory and workhouse style. The passages are cold, dark and gloomy. Everything about the buildings (we refer to all which are at present in existence, the one at Shoreditch being particularly cheerless and prison-like) has been made as dull-looking an heavy as it could be. The use of iron, except in staircases, seems to have been overlooked by the architect. The pillars are immense; the walls along the passages seem to be capable of standing a bombardment. At mid-day they are so dark that, on first entering from the outer air, one instinctively gropes one’s way along. On every landing there is a large space open to the air. No windows have been put in, in order that free ventilation might be preserved. In winter time the ventilation is too free to be welcome. An east or a north wind must tear up and down the house with a force which would render all ordinary arrangements for warming the place entirely useless. Blinds have been put up of late at Shadwell; at Shoreditch even this defence against cold has not been provided. There are no hot water pipes to warm the passages. “The poor do not like ventilation,” said one superintendent; “they prefer to shut out every breath of air.” He was quite right, but the architect of these buildings has surely endeavoured to counteract the tastes of the poor a little too vigorously.

The rooms are not by any means attractive, not even comfortable in appearance. They seemed to us to be small and, as the tenants say “pokey.” The walls are not papered but are merely of common brick with a white colouring. A brick wall is never a cheerful object to gaze at, and if you colour it white you have not improved it much. It may be true that “wall-paper harbours vermin” but the same precautions against dirt which arenow taken would keep the walls clean, even though they were papered. Considering the size of the rooms, and the chill appearance of them, and the number of stairs, we doubt whether the rate at which they are let can be considered remarkably cheap. A small house at Shadwell may easily be had for 8s. Per week. But the Peabody buildings ought to be cheap as well as clean if they areever to provea substantial benefit to the poor. Two shillings and sixpence a week for one little room, perhaps up four pairs of stairs, down at Shadwell, is not cheap. The arrangement appears to be susceptible of improvement; but in other respects these institutions cannot fail to be productive of benefits to the poor.

In the first place, habits of cleanliness are soon taught to those who enter in ignorance of them. The passages must be cleaned by the tenants in turn. In each passage there is a trap for receiving dust and dirt.

This is a very long article so I shall leave it there for today. It goes on to describe some of the inhabitants and ask them questions, also remarks made by the superintendent. If you are interested, I will be happy to type up the rest and post tomorrow

Previous Entry

Interesting to read the comments coming in.  *Update* she is going to be the Duchess of Cornwall and not the Princess of Wales and Her Royal Highness the Princess Consort if and when he becomes King.  What a mouthful that is!!!

My own view is that they are trying to appease public opinion.  On becoming his wife, she automatically becomes the Princess of Wales despite the fact they have decided not to use that title.  She will also carry out the full duties of a Queen despite being known as a "Consort".  A rose by any other name..........

 

P.S. to David, I have not forgotten about that entry. It will appear.

A wedding is announced

Only a short entry today, I see from AOL news that it has been announced that Prince Charles is to marry Camilla Parker-Bowles in April. Very strange that this should be announced now, when H.R.H.'s finances are being investigated. AOL are running a "poll" asking how she should be addressed.

I have the feeling that this is not going to be popular with the public - what do you think? Should he marry her or leave things as they are?  Are you in favour of a Queen Camilla if and when he ascends the throne?

 

Wednesday, February 9, 2005

Mine Host And A Ghost

Meet my Great-Grandparents. He is William S. and he married Eliza T.who was the daughter of an East End of London Shoemaker.

His birth is a mystery. Despite years of research no birth certificate has ever been traced although we know that he was born in Lincolnshire, son of John S. whom he stated on his marriage certificate was a farmer but this was more likely to be Agricultural Labourer.

Great-Grandfather was a real character, so I have been told and he certainly moved around. When he married Eliza he gave his occupation as Mariner. One elderly cousin does remember that he might have been at sea, whilst others hotly deny this and said that he plied the canals for much of his life. From studying the various births, deaths and marriage certificates of his eleven children it shows that he had several occupations, Mariner as above, Farm Labourer, Oil Miller, Wharf Labourer, General Labourer, Carpenter’s Labourer and from then on only Carpenter. Carpenter appears on his own death certificate. We do know that at one time he worked for the Great Eastern Railway and perhaps he was a carpenter building locomotive carriages.

Although a hard worker he never earned much money at least in the early years. He earned less than 30 shillings per week. How do I know this? Because at one time he and his family lived in Peabody Buildings, Shadwell, East London . These buildings and others around London were paid for by the American philanthropist, George Peabody. You could not be admitted and have rooms there if you earned more than 30 shillings per week. Even then you had to do your share of cleaning, not only your own rooms but also the corridors and the laundry room. These buildings were bleak and gloomy places but they did provide a decent standard of accommodation compared to other places. I have in my possession, a fascinating article about “the buildings” from a newspaper of the day. Times were certainly much harder then.

What came as a complete surprise to me was that he was, at one time, the Landlord of a Public House. I found this out through Friends Re-United when I found a long lost second cousin (I had not been looking for any family). She told me that he had been the Landlord of “The Lamb” in Hertfordshire. This pub stands opposite a canal so that would tie in with him working the canals for much of his life and also for his fondness of talking about them.

Relatives of mine outside the Lamb during the late 1960's or early 1970's.

When I acquired this information I immediately tracked down the current Landlord , one George M. He was somewhat shocked to hear from me but was very helpful. Unfortunately he had no old records in his possession but gave me the address and number of the current owners. I wrote to them but alas, the pub had changed hands many times over the years and along the way all old records had been destroyed because it was not thought they were of any value. So much history thrown away by thoughtlessness. So, I have no idea what dates Great-Grandfather would have been there but I can estimate it as being sometime between the late 1870’s to the early 1880‘s. I have been told he was there less than two years because he was a “friend” to everyone and gave away so many free drinks that the establishment was making a loss! George M. was disappointed that he could give me no dates but he did tell me the history of the place and he wondered whether my Great-Grandfather had ever seen the ghost.

The pub today.

The Ghost

The Lamb itself came into being c. 1542. The actual building was much older than that because it had been a cottage that was turned into an alehouse. Business boomed so the adjoining cottage was subsequently incorporated into it. The pub is built on the site of an old Roman cemetery which is very deep down but there is also a Royalist cemetery in the rear garden. During the Civil War the town was a Royalist stronghold but it eventually fell to the Roundheads. The ghost is of a little girl aged around seven or eight. The story goes that her Father was a Royalist and she was staying at the “inn” with him because he was to attend a secret meeting. He set off to the meeting but was captured by the Roundheads and did not return. The little girl was left totally alone and as the hours passed she became more and more scared. She ran all over theinn looking forhim. Finding no trace, she went back to their room. She heard a sound and thinking that she had heard his footsteps approaching outside she excitedly opened the upstairs window and leant out to call to him. She lost her balance and fell smashing her head on the cobbles below. Her ghost still haunts the place but she only appears to men. No woman has ever seen her! Can it be that after all these centuries she is still searching the faces of male customers and staff hoping desperately her Father has come back to her?

After the death of his beloved Eliza, William always had a little dog which he took with him everywhere. If offered food he always presented some to the dog first, if the dog refused it then so did he, no matter how delicious and fresh it was. He insisted that if it was not good enough for the dog, it was not good enough for him!

Great-Grandfather could neither read nor write, he never knew exactly what year he was born and it could have been anytime between 1837 and 1845. My own Mother stated that he was just short of 100 years old when he died in 1939. I will never know for sure but two of his daughters lived to ripe old ages, one reaching 101 and another 102.

William spent many happy hours at my Grandmother's (his daughter-in-law) house, the one I have written so much about where he would sit in the garden during the good months quietly smoking his pipe which was his lifelong pleasure. He adored children and always had a shining penny ready for his grandchildren. It is thought he cleaned them up especially.  For some reason he always kept a piece of cotton tied around one of his thumbs. There is little more that I can add as my knowledge of his life is so limited.

There is a strange footnote to this story of William which came to light during my research. William lived out the last few years of his life with his second son, James, in the suburbs of London. I was surprised to find that William’s death certificate revealed that he did not die there but in Billericay, Essex. He died in a hospital that was later to become a famous burns unit (now closed). There were many hospitals much closer to where he lived so why he ended in Billericay is a mystery. However, from the ages of 20-22 I worked in Billericay just a few yards from this very hospital. Whenever I passed it, I always used to get the odd feeling that someone waswalkingbeside me. I did not acquire his death certificate until 8 years ago so I could not have known that my Great-Grandfather drew his last breath in the very building that I was passing daily.

I would so very much have liked to have met him. I am sure he had many tales to tell. If only.........

Picture taken two years before his death.

Monday, February 7, 2005

Of Little Folk and Ghosts

Still on the subject of the land of my birth, there is a field above Llangattock Park on the hillside bank of the canal known as Cae Cefn Cythraul “The field of the Devil’s Ridge”. It was believed that the Devil used to haunt a clump of trees growing in the centre of the field and that he used to come out on Mid-Summers Eve to dance with the fairies. This clump of trees is still there.

Welsh fairies (Tylwyth Teg) did not have gossamer wings and acorn hats, but resembled the human race, being miniature people with miniature horses and dogs. They were well disposed towards humans and lived in remote places and under hills. Time became irrelevant to those who went away with the Tylwyth Teg and danced in Fairy Circles, such a circle was said to exist in the Black turf, a flat area near Craig Ciliau Nature Reserve. A human being beguiled by the sweetness of their music and stepped into the circle was lost for days maybe years unless someone had the presence of mind to throw them a bunch of Rowan and pull them out.

Rowan Tree

Superstition has always associated Mid-Summer’s Eve with the appearance of witches, fairies and ghosts.

Ghostly footsteps were heard some 70 years ago by a local practitioner when he was called to attend a patient at Llangattock Park House. He was invited to stay until mid-night and claimed he distinctly heard footsteps walking from the bottom to the top of the house. A number of older residents remembered being told of the ghost choir that sang in the caves on Mid-Summer’s Eve.

One of the best known landmarks in the district is The Lonely Shepherd, also known as The Peaky Stone standing on the Hillside boundary between the parishes of Llangattock and Crickhowell. Legend has it that this needle of limestone was once a man who was so cruel to his wife that she drowned herself in the River Usk. The man for his sins was turned into stone but at midnight on Mid-Summer’s Eve this stone walks down to the river calling his wife’s name and trying to persuade her to come back to him. The dawn finds him back on top of the hill. An older generation of locals recalled that women on the Hillside visited the stone once a year to give it a coat of whitewash.

A ghost horse walked along the road between the present canal bridge and the Hillside road at the bottom of the Prisk Pitch. In Wales there is a great belief in Ceffyl Y Dwr orWater Horses. If you happen to mount one then you can be taken on a nightmare ride at breakneck speed over the whole countryside, sometimes the ride lasts for days or sometimes the rider is never seen again.

A one time resident of the Dardy returning home from Glanusk one night claimed he heard the rattling of the chains of the ghost that haunted the stretch of road between Glanusk and Llanwysk. He was not a nervous man but the sound of the chains following him left him very frightened.

Llangorse Lake, close to Brecon is a beautiful spot, full of fish of all types and many species of bird.

Beautiful Llangorse Lake

 We have been boating there on more than one occasion. Legend has it that it was once the site of a large city which had a reputation for wickedness and debauchery. The local King sent an ambassador to Llangorse to see whether the dreadful reports of the city were true. He arrived one evening but no one was there to meet and greet him, only the sounds of drunken revelry came from the centre. Entering into a cottage on the outskirts of Llangorse he found it deserted apart from a sleeping baby. Accidentally he dropped a glove into the baby’s cradle. He then left the city to spend the night on a hillside overlooking it. During the night he heard dreadful sounds, thunder, the clash or arms, shrieking, crying and screaming and also the sound of waves. When morning came it revealed that a lake now covered the site of the city and the only sign of life was a child’s cradle bobbing on the waves. When it drifted ashore he found that it held the baby, and his glove. It is said that on still nights you can still hear the lost souls wailing.

Sunset over Llangorse Lake

The lake is supposed to have miraculous properties. Local inhabitants have witnessed it being “completely covered with buildings” (this ties in with the drowned city story). In winter, when there is ice on the lake, it is supposed to groan loudly and at other times turn bright green (the latter is more likely to be a bloom of algae). The last time we were at Llangorse lake archealogical explorations were being made on an island in the lake and we were able to watch for some time. In 1925 a dug-out canoe was found there dating back to 800 A.D. Itis known that Iron Age people had a settlement at Llangorse.

Brecon and the surrounding area has many ghost stories. This is one of them. A solder was sharing a cottage on the outskirts of the town. He was sleeping one night when he was awakened by the latch of his door being lifted with a loud click. He then felt an almighty thump on his shoulder. Sitting up now, very startled, he saw a woman at the end of his bed brushing her hair. He put the light on and the woman immediately vanished. After a while he settled into an uneasy doze when suddenly he heard the door open again. This time another woman entered the room but she was in a wheelchair, much older and not wearing the same clothes. However, by the face, the soldier could recognise that this was the same woman at two different stages in her life. He decided to sleep elsewhere. The next day he asked the owner of the cottage if she knew of any ghosts connected with the place. He gave a description of what had happened and also of the two apparitions that he had seen. Shocked, the owner told him that what he had seen was her Grandmother but she could offer no explanation.


 

Thursday, February 3, 2005

To All My Readers

Just to let you all know that, for personal reasons, I am putting this journal on pause for a while.