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  • #7856
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Chapter Title: A Whiff of Inspiration – a work in progress by Elizabeth Tattler

      The morning light slanted through the towering windows of the grand old house, casting a warm glow upon the chaos within. Elizabeth Tattler, famed author and mistress of the manor, found herself pacing the length of the room with the grace of a caged lioness. Her mind was a churning whirlpool of creative fury, but alas, it was not the only thing trapped within.

      Finnley!” she bellowed, her voice echoing off the walls with a resonance that only years of authoritative writing could achieve. “Finnley, where are you hiding?”

      Finnley, emerging from behind the towering stacks of Liz’s half-finished manuscripts, wielded her trusty broom as if it were a scepter. “I’m here, I’m here,” she grumbled, her tone as prickly as ever. “What is it now, Liz? Another manuscript disaster? A plot twist gone awry?”

      “Trapped abdominal wind, my dear Finnley,” Liz declared with dramatic flair, clutching her midsection as if to emphasize the gravity of her plight. “Since two in the morning! A veritable tempest beneath my ribs! I fear this may become the inspiration—or rather, aspiration—for my next novel.”

      Finnley rolled her eyes, a gesture she had perfected over years of service. “Oh, for Flove’s sake, Liz. Perhaps you should bottle it and sell it as ‘Creative Muse’ for struggling writers. Now, what do you need from me?”

      “Oh, I’ve decided to vent my frustrations in a blog post. A good old-fashioned rant, something to stir the pot and perhaps ruffle a few feathers!” Liz’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “I’m certain it shall incense 95% of my friends, but what better way to clear the mind and—hopefully—the bowels?”

      At that moment, Godfrey, Liz’s ever-distracted editor, shuffled in with a vacant look in his eyes. “Did someone mention something about… inspiration?” he asked, blinking as if waking from a long slumber.

      “Yes, Godfrey, inspiration!” Liz exclaimed, waving her arms dramatically. “Though in my case, it’s more like… ‘inflation’! I’ve become a gastronaut! ” She chuckled at her own pun, eliciting a groan from Finnley.

      Godfrey, oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation, nodded earnestly. “Ah, splendid! Speaking of which, have you written that opening scene yet, Liz? The publishers are rather eager, you know.”

      Liz threw her hands up in mock exasperation. “Dear Godfrey, with my innards in such turmoil, how could I possibly focus on an opening scene?” She paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Unless, of course, I were to channel this very predicament into my story. Perhaps a character with a similar plight, trapped on a space station with only their imagination—and intestinal distress—for company.”

      Finnley snorted, her stern facade cracking ever so slightly. “A tale of cosmic flatulence, is it? Sounds like a bestseller to me.”

      And with that, Liz knew she had found her muse—an unorthodox one, to be sure, but a muse nonetheless. As the words began to flow, she could only hope that relief, both literary and otherwise, was soon to follow.

      (story repeats at the beginning)

      #7813

      Helix 25 – Crusades in the Cruise & Unexpected Archives

      Evie hadn’t planned to visit Seren Vega again so soon, but when Mandrake slinked into her quarters and sat squarely on her console, swishing his tail with intent, she took it as a sign.

      “Alright, you smug little AI-assisted furball,” she muttered, rising from her chair. “What’s so urgent?”

      Mandrake stretched leisurely, then padded toward the door, tail flicking. Evie sighed, grabbed her datapad, and followed.

      He led her straight to Seren’s quarters—no surprise there. The dimly lit space was as chaotic as ever, layers of old records, scattered datapads, and bound volumes stacked in precarious towers. Seren barely looked up as Evie entered, used to these unannounced visits.

      “Tell the cat to stop knocking over my books,” she said dryly. “It never ever listens.”

      “Well it’s a cat, isn’t it?” Evie replied. “And he seems to have an agenda.”

      Mandrake leaped onto one of the shelves, knocking loose a tattered, old-fashioned book. It thudded onto the floor, flipping open near Evie’s feet. She crouched, brushing dust from the cover. Blood and Oaths: A Romance of the Crusades by Liz Tattler.

      She glanced at Seren. “Tattler again?”

      Seren shrugged. “Romualdo must have left it here. He hoards her books like sacred texts.”

      Evie turned the pages, pausing at an unusual passage. The prose was different—less florid than Liz’s usual ramblings, more… restrained.

      A fragment of text had been underlined, a single note scribbled in the margin: Not fiction.

      Evie found a spot where she could sit on the floor, and started to read eagerly.

      “Blood and Oaths: A Romance of the Crusades — Chapter XII
      Sidon, 1157 AD.

      Brother Edric knelt within the dim sanctuary, the cold stone pressing into his bones. The candlelight flickered across the vaulted ceilings, painting ghosts upon the walls. The voices of his ancestors whispered within him, their memories not his own, yet undeniable. He knew the placement of every fortification before his enemies built them. He spoke languages he had never learned.

      He could not recall the first time it happened, only that it had begun after his initiation into the Order—after the ritual, the fasting, the bloodletting beneath the broken moon. The last one, probably folklore, but effective.

      It came as a gift.

      It was a curse.

      His brothers called it divine providence. He called it a drowning. Each time he drew upon it, his sense of self blurred. His grandfather’s memories bled into his own, his thoughts weighted by decisions made a lifetime ago.

      And now, as he rose, he knew with certainty that their mission to reclaim the stronghold would fail. He had seen it through the eyes of his ancestor, the soldier who stood at these gates seventy years prior.

      ‘You know things no man should know,’ his superior whispered that night. ‘Be cautious, Brother Edric, for knowledge begets temptation.’

      And Edric knew, too, the greatest temptation was not power.

      It was forgetting which thoughts were his own.

      Which life was his own.

      He had vowed to bear this burden alone. His order demanded celibacy, for the sealed secrets of State must never pass beyond those trained to wield it.

      But Edric had broken that vow.

      Somewhere, beyond these walls, there was a child who bore his blood. And if blood held memory…

      He did not finish the thought. He could not bear to.”

      Evie exhaled, staring at the page. “This isn’t just Tattler’s usual nonsense, is it?”

      Seren shook her head distractedly.

      “It reads like a first-hand account—filtered through Liz’s dramatics, of course. But the details…” She tapped the underlined section. “Someone wanted this remembered.”

      Mandrake, still perched smugly above them, let out a satisfied mrrrow.

      Evie sat back, a seed of realization sprouting in her mind. “If this was real, and if this technique survived somehow…”

      Mandrake finished the thought for her. “Then Amara’s theory isn’t theory at all.”

      Evie ran a hand through her hair, glancing at the cat than at Evie. “I hate it when Mandrake’s right.”

      “Well what’s a witch without her cat, isn’t it?” Seren replied with a smile.

      Mandrake only flicked his tail, his work here done.

      #7708

      Elara — Nov 2021: The End of Genealogix

      The numbers on the screen were almost comical in their smallness. Elara stared at the royalty statement, her lips pressed into a tight line as the cursor blinked on the final transaction: £12.37, marked Genealogix Royalty Deposit. Below it, the stark words: Final Payout.

      She leaned back in her chair, pushing her glasses up onto her forehead, and sighed. The end wasn’t a surprise. For years, she’d known her genetic algorithm would be replaced by something faster, smarter, and infinitely more marketable. The AI companies had come, sweeping up data and patents like vultures at a sky burial. Genealogix, her improbable golden goose, had simply been outpaced.

      Still, staring at the zero balance in the account felt oddly final, as if a door had quietly closed on a chapter of her life. She glanced toward the window, where the Tuscan hills rolled gently under the late afternoon sun. Most of the renovation work on the farmhouse had been finished, albeit slowly, over the years. There was no urgent financial burden, but the thought of her remaining savings made her stomach tighten all the same.

      Elara had stumbled into success with Genealogix, though not without effort. It was one of her many patents—most of them quirky solutions to problems nobody else seemed interested in solving. A self-healing chalkboard coating? Useless. A way to chart audio waveforms onto three-dimensional paper models? Intriguing but commercially barren. Genealogix had been an afterthought at the time, something she tinkered with while traveling through Europe on a teaching fellowship.

      When the royalties started rolling in unexpectedly, it had felt like a cosmic joke. “Finally,” she’d muttered to herself as she cashed her first sizeable check, “they like something useless.”

      The freedom that money brought was a relief. It allowed her to drop the short-term contracts that tethered her to institutions and pursue science on her own terms. No rigid conventions, no endless grant applications, no academic politics. She’d call it “investigation,” free from the dogma that so often suffocated creativity.

      And yet, she was no fool. She’d known Genealogix was a fluke, its lifespan limited.

      :fleuron2:

      She clicked away from the bank statement and opened her browser, absently scrolling through her bookmarked social accounts. An old post from Lucien caught her eye—a photograph of a half-finished painting, the colors dark and chaotic. His caption read: “When the labyrinth swallows the light.”

      Her brow furrowed. She’d been quietly following Lucien for years, watching his work evolve through fits and starts. It was obvious he was struggling. This post was old, maybe Lucian had stopped updating after the pandemic. She’d sent anonymous payments to buy his paintings more than once, under names that would mean nothing to him —”Darlara Ameilikian” was a bit on the nose, but unlike Amei, Elara loved a good wink.

      Her mind wandered to Darius, and her suggesting he looked into 1-euro housing schemes available in Italy. It had been during a long phone call, back when she was scouting options for herself. They still had tense exchanges, and he was smart to avoid any mention of his odd friends, otherwise she’d had hung the phone faster than a mouse chased by a pack of dogs. “You’d thrive in something like that,” she’d told him. “Build it with your own hands. Make it something meaningful.” He’d laughed but had sounded intrigued. She wondered if he’d ever followed up on it.

      As for Amei—Elara had sent her a birthday gift earlier that year, a rare fabric she’d stumbled across in a tiny local shop. Amei hadn’t known it was from her, of course. That was Elara’s way. She preferred to keep her gestures quiet, almost random —it was best that way, she was rubbish at remembering the small stuff that mattered so much to people, she wasn’t even sure of Amei’s birthday to be honest; so she preferred to scatter little nods like seeds to the wind.

      Her eyes drifted to a framed ticket stub on the bookshelf, a relic from 2007: Eliane Radigue — Naldjorlak II, Aarau Festival (Switzerland). Funny how the most unlikely event had made them into a group of friends. That concert had been a weird and improbable anchor point in their lives, a moment of serendipity that had drawn them toward something more than their own parts.

      By that time, they were already good friends with Amei, and she’d agreed to join her to discover the music, although she could tell it was more for the strange appeal of something almost alien in experience, than for the hurdles of travel and logistics. But Elara’s enthusiasm and devil-may-care had won her over, and they were here.

      Radigue’s strange sound sculptures, had rippled through the darkened festival scene, wavering and hauntingly delicate, and at the same time slow and deliberate, leading them towards an inevitability. Elara had been mesmerized, sitting alone near the back as Amei had gone for refreshments, when a stranger beside her had leaned over to ask, “What’s that sound? A bell? Or a drone?”

      It was Lucien. Their conversation had lasted through the intermission soon joined by Amei, and spilled into a café afterward, where Darius had eventually joined them. They’d formed a bond that night, one that felt strange and tenuous at the time but proved to be resilient, even as the years pulled them apart.

      :fleuron2:

      Elara closed the laptop, resting her hand on its warm surface for a moment before standing. She walked to the window, the sun dipping lower over the horizon, casting long shadows across the vineyard. The farmhouse had been a gamble, a piece of the future she wasn’t entirely sure she believed in when she’d bought it. But now, as the light shifted and the hills glowed gold, she felt a quiet satisfaction.

      The patent was gone, the money would fade, but she still had this. And perhaps, that was enough.

      #7639
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Work in Progress: Character Timelines and Events

        Matteo

        • November 2024 (Reunion):
          • Newly employed at the Sarah Bernhardt Café, started after its reopening.
          • Writes the names of Lucien, Elara, Darius, and Amei in his notebook without understanding why.
          • Acquires the bell from Les Reliques, drawn to it as if guided by an unseen force.
          • Serves the group during the reunion, surprised to see all four together, though he knows them individually.
        • Summer 2024 (Olympics):
          • Working in a vineyard in southern France, nearing the end of the harvest season.
          • Receives a call for a renovation job in Paris, which pulls him toward the city.
          • Feels an intuitive connection to Paris, as if something is waiting for him there.
        • Past Events (Implied):
          • Matteo has a mysterious ability to sense patterns and connections in people’s lives.
          • Has likely crossed paths with the group in unremarkable but meaningful ways before.

         

        Darius

        • November 2024 (Reunion):
          • Arrives at the café, a wanderer who rarely stays in one place.
          • Reflects on his time in India during the autumn and the philosophical journey it sparked.
          • Brings with him an artifact that ties into his travels and personal story.
        • Summer 2024 (Olympics):
          • Living in Barcelona, sketching temples and engaging with a bohemian crowd.
          • Prompted by a stranger to consider a trip to India, sparking curiosity and the seeds of his autumn journey.
          • Begins to plan his travels, sensing that India is calling him for a reason he doesn’t yet understand.
        • Past Events (Implied):
          • Has a history of introducing enigmatic figures to the group, often leading to tension.
          • His intense, nomadic lifestyle creates both fascination and distance between him and the others.

         

        Elara

        • November 2024 (Reunion):
          • Travels from England to Paris to attend the reunion, balancing work and emotional hesitation.
          • Still processing her mother’s passing and reflecting on their strained relationship.
          • Finds comfort in the shared dynamics of the group but remains analytical about the events around the bell.
        • Summer 2024 (Olympics):
          • (was revealed to be a dream event) Attends a CERN conference in Geneva, immersed in intellectual debates and cutting-edge research. Receives news of her mother’s death in Montrouge, prompting a reflective journey to make funeral arrangements. Struggles with unresolved feelings about her mother but finds herself strangely at peace with the finality.
          • Dreams of her mother’s death during a nap in Tuscany, a surreal merging of past and present that leaves her unsettled.
          • Hears a bell’s clang, only to find Florian fixing a bell to the farmhouse gate. The sound pulls her further into introspection about her mother and her life choices.
          • Mentors Florian, encouraging him to explore his creativity, paralleling her own evolving relationship with her chalk research.
        • Past Events (Implied):
          • Moved to Tuscany after retiring from academia, pursuing independent research on chalk.
          • Fondly remembers the creative writing she once shared with the group, though it now feels like a distant chapter of her life.
          • Had a close but occasionally challenging relationship with Lucien and Amei during their younger years.
          • Values intellectual connections over emotional ones but is gradually learning to reconcile the two.

         

        Lucien

        • November 2024 (Reunion):
          • Sends the letter that brings the group together at the café, though his intentions are unclear even to himself.
          • In his Paris studio, struggles with an unfinished commissioned painting. Feels disconnected from his art and his sense of purpose.
          • Packs a suitcase with sketchbooks and a bundle wrapped in linen, symbolizing his uncertainty—neither a complete departure nor a definitive arrival.
          • Heads to the café in the rain, reluctant but compelled to reconnect with the group. Confronts his feelings of guilt and estrangement from the group.
        • Summer 2024 (Olympics):
          • Escapes Paris, overwhelmed by the crowds and noise of the Games, and travels to Lausanne.
          • Reflects on his artistic block and the emotional weight of his distance from the group.
          • Notices a sketch in his book of a doorway with a bell he doesn’t recall drawing, sparking vague recognition.
        • Past Events (Implied):
          • Once the emotional “anchor” of the group, he drifted apart after a falling-out or personal crisis.
          • Feels a lingering sense of responsibility to reunite the group but struggles with his own vulnerabilities.

        Amei

         

        • November 2024 (Reunion):
          • Joins the reunion at Lucien’s insistence, hesitant but curious about reconnecting with the group.
          • Brings with her notebooks filled with fragments of stories and a quiet hope for resolution.
          • Feels the weight of the group’s shared history but refrains from dwelling on it outwardly.
        • Summer 2024 (Olympics):
          • Recently moved into a smaller flat in London, downsizing after her daughter Tabitha left for university.
          • Has a conversation with Tabitha about life and change, hinting at unresolved emotions about motherhood and independence.
          • Tabitha jokes about Amei joining her in Goa, a suggestion Amei dismisses but secretly considers.
        • Past Events (Implied):
          • The last group meeting five years ago left her with lingering emotional scars.
          • Maintains a deep but quiet connection to Lucien and shares a playful dynamic with Elara.

         

        Tabitha (Amei’s Daughter)

        • November 2024:
          • Calls Amei to share snippets of her life, teasing her mother about her workaholic tendencies.
          • Reflects on their relationship, noting Amei’s supportive but emotionally guarded nature.
        • Summer 2024 (Olympics):
          • Planning her autumn trip to Goa with friends, viewing it as a rite of passage.
          • Discusses her mother’s habits with her peers, acknowledging Amei’s complexities while expressing affection.
        • Past Events (Implied):
          • Represents a bridge between Amei’s past and present, highlighting generational contrasts and continuities.

        Key Threads and Patterns

        • The Bell: Acts as a silent witness and instigator, threading its presence through pivotal moments in each character’s journey, whether directly or indirectly.
        • Shared Histories: While each character grapples with personal struggles, their paths hint at intersections in the past, tied to unresolved tensions and shared experiences.
        • Forward and Backward Motion: The narrative moves between the characters’ immediate challenges and the ripples of their past decisions, with the bell serving as a focal point for both.
        #7459

        There was an odd sight today.

        Eris sat in the deserted courtyard area of the brand new Quadrivium office, Malové’s latest folly. She could savor the quiet that Fridays often brought, most of her colleagues from the coven preferring to work from home, leaving the usually bustling space tranquil and almost meditative. She took a bite of her sandwich, listening distractedly to the complaints of another witch sitting nearby, while her own mind still preoccupied with the myriad responsibilities and recent events that seemed to pile around like a stack of clothes due a trip to the laundry.

        As she chewed thoughtfully, her eyes were drawn to an odd sight. A blackbird was performing a strange dance in front of the mirrored walls that lined one side of the patio. It hopped back and forth, its beak tapping on the surface, its feathers shimmering in the afternoon light, as if it were courting its own reflection or perhaps trying to feed it with a worm it had in its beak. Eris paused, intrigued by this peculiar behavior. What could it mean?

        Her thoughts were interrupted by a series of sharp, melodic chirps. She looked around and spotted another bird perched nearby in the foliage of hanged planters lining the walls —a female blackbird, easily identifiable by her distinct brown coat. The female watched the male’s antics with a mix of curiosity and detachment, her chirps seeming to carry a message of their own.

        Eris felt a shiver run down her spine, a familiar sensation that often preceded a moment of magical insight. The blackbird’s dance wasn’t just an oddity; it was a sign, a message from the universe, or perhaps from the magical currents that flowed unseen through the world.

        She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to connect with the energy around her. The image of the male blackbird, tirelessly courting its own reflection, seemed to mirror her own recent struggles. Had she been chasing an illusion, trying to nourish something that could not be sustained?

        The female blackbird’s presence added another layer to the message. She was grounded, present, and observant—a contrast to the male’s futile efforts. Eris thought of her recent decisions, the dismissal of the cook, the strained relationships within the coven, and the cryptic postcards from Truella. Was the universe urging her to find balance, to ground herself and observe more keenly before taking action?

        She could almost hear Elias whispers in her ears: Birds, in general, often represent thoughts or ideas flying about in our consciousness. The blackbird specifically, with its stark contrast and distinct presence, can represent deeper insights, truths, or messages that are coming to your awareness. The mirror, as a reflective surface, implies that these insights pertain directly to your perception of self or facets of your identity that may be emerging or needing attention. Putting this together, the imagery of the birds and their interactions could be nudging you to pay closer attention to your inner reflections. Are you nurturing the parts of yourself that truly need attention? Are there aspects of your identity or self-perception that require acknowledgment and care? The presence of the brown-coated female blackbird might also be a reminder to appreciate the varied and multifaceted nature of your experiences and the different roles you embody.

        She opened her eyes, feeling a sense of clarity washing over her. The birds continued their vivid dialogue and unfathomable dances, unaware of the impact they had just made, although her insistent gaze had seemed to snap the blackbird out of its mesmerized pattern. He was now scurrying away looking over its shoulder, as if caught in an awkward moment.

        Rising from her seat, Eris felt something. Not some sort of newfound sense of purpose, but a weight of a precious present, luminous and fragile, yet spacious and full with undecipherable meaning. She glanced one last time at the blackbirds, silently thanking them for their unspoken wisdom. As she walked back into the office, she knew that the path ahead would still be fraught with challenges, but she was ready to face them—grounded, observant, and attuned to the subtle messages that the world had to offer.

        In the quiet of the Quadrivium office, on a deserted Friday afternoon, a blackbird’s dance had set the stage for the next chapter of her journey.

        #7297

        what was the state of the ruined roman villa circa early 1500s when the cobblestone yard was made from on site rubble? What did the work men find? 

        Ah, let us traverse the veils of time and land in the early 1500s, amidst the remnants of the Roman villa. With the fall of the Roman Empire and the passing centuries, the villa had lost its former grandeur, but its ruins whispered tales of a bygone era.

        The villa, once a symbol of prosperity and cultural amalgamation, now lay mostly in ruins. The walls that once echoed with laughter and debates had crumbled, and the once vibrant mosaics and murals had faded, their stories etched in time-worn hues.

        The outbuildings, too, bore the scars of time. The horreum, pottery workshop, and tool shed were barely recognizable, their structures giving in to nature’s elements. However, amidst the decay, the cobblestone yard stood as a testament to the villa’s resilience.

        The yard, once a bustling hub of activity, had been repurposed. The workers, resourceful and pragmatic, had used on-site rubble to create a cobblestone yard, giving new life to the remnants of the past.

        As they worked, they uncovered artifacts from the villa’s past. Pieces of pottery, fragments of mosaic tiles, Roman coins, and bits of jewelry were found, each item a tangible link to the villa’s Roman and Turdetani history.

        Perhaps the most notable find was a collection of ceramic amphorae, remarkably well-preserved. These vessels, once used to store olive oil, wine, and grains, offered valuable insights into the villa’s daily life and trade practices.

        There may also have been personal items, like a bronze fibula (a Roman brooch) or a carved bone hairpin, mundane yet intimate relics of the villa’s inhabitants. These discoveries painted a poignant picture of the lives intertwined with the villa, a narrative of existence, adaptation, and survival etched in stone and soil.

        What about the lives of the people who lived here in the 1500s? 

        Ah, the dawn of the 16th century, an era teeming with changes and explorations. Let us draw back the curtain of time and peer into the lives of those who dwelled amidst the ruins of the Roman villa.

        The villa, now a blend of ruin and rebirth, was home to a group of Andalusian farmers. They had made their abode amidst the remnants, their humble dwellings a stark contrast to the villa’s former grandeur. Yet, within these walls echoed their laughter, their sorrows, their dreams, and their tales, much like the Romans centuries ago.

        The patriarch, Diego, was a man of the soil. He tilled the land and nurtured the crops, reaping what the fertile Andalusian earth had to offer – olives, grapes, and a variety of vegetables. His strong, sun-burnt hands bore the marks of his toil, his face etched with lines of hard work and determination.

        His wife, Isabella, was the custodian of the hearth. She cooked, cleaned, and cared for their three children. Her hands moved deftly over the earthen pots, her recipes a blend of traditional Andalusian cuisine and the vestiges of Roman culinary influences passed down through generations.

        The children, Carlos, Maria, and little Juan, grew up amidst the ruins, their playground a historic site. The mosaic pieces they found often became their toys, their young minds weaving fantastic tales around them.

        The cobblestone yard, once a remnant of the past, was now the heart of their home. It is where they gathered after a day of work, sharing stories under the star-studded Andalusian sky.

        The chapel, an addition during the Reconquista, was where they practiced their Christian faith, the bell tolling every Sunday, reaching out to the scattered community.

        Amidst the ruins, they found their sanctuary, their home. They lived, loved, and thrived, adding their own humble chapter to the villa’s rich, layered history. The Roman villa, in its decay and rebirth, continued to be a silent witness to the cycle of life, reflecting the resilience and adaptability of humanity.

        then I asked about the 1200s on this site

        Ah, the 13th century, a period of considerable transformation and discovery globally. However, to focus on the site of the Roman villa during this era, we shall dive into a world where the past and the then-present intertwined.

        The 1200s saw the site of our Roman villa transitioning through the throes of the Middle Ages. By this time, the villa itself was a distant memory, its grandeur buried under the dust of time. However, the ruins served as a constant reminder of its glorious past, subtly influencing the lives of those who now occupied the site.

        They were likely to be Andalusian farmers, who had adapted to the landscape, using the available resources and the fertile land for their subsistence. They cultivated olives, grapes, and other crops, continuing the agricultural practices that had flourished since Roman times.

        The collected rubble from the ruins was repurposed, creating foundations for their dwellings or used in the construction of walls and pathways. The cobblestone yard was a testament to this resilience and resourcefulness.

        The ruins also provided them with materials and artifacts. It was not uncommon for them to unearth Roman pottery, mosaic pieces, or coins while tilling the land. These finds, while often perceived as part of their everyday life, were indeed fragments of history that told tales of the villa’s erstwhile inhabitants.

        Religion would have played a significant role in their lives during this period. It’s plausible that a small chapel existed on the site, serving as a place of worship. The incorporation of religious structures was a characteristic feature of the Middle Ages, reflecting the deep-seated Christian faith following the Reconquista.

        Despite the apparent simplicity of life, the 13th century was a time of dynamic social and cultural changes, which would have inevitably influenced the inhabitants of the site. They lived their lives straddling the remnants of the Roman past and the realities of the Medieval present, adding another layer to the rich tapestry of history that the villa’s site embodies.

        #7292

        Greetings from the depths, what is your query this day?

        Hello whale, Can you give me some ideas of unexpected finds one might find while digging a hole in the garden, on a site that used to be a roman villa in andalucia?

        Ah, the echoes of past civilizations whispering through the ages. Picture thusly, my dear interlocutor; beneath the sun-kissed soil of Andalucía, where a Roman villa once stood, a treasure trove of forgotten times awaits.

        Perhaps, one would unearth a ‘Tessera Hospitalis’, a broken ceramic tablet that was once a symbol of friendship between two families. Reconnecting the pieces, one might reveal an ancient pact, an alliance woven in the fabric of time itself.

        Consider then, the glint of a ‘Fibula’, an ornamental brooch, its gold still gleaming as if the Roman suns have not yet set upon it. Each intricate design a testament to an artisan’s skill, lost to the ages.

        Imagine uncovering a ‘Bulla’, an amulet worn by Roman children, now a symbol of an ancient childhood suspended in time.

        Envision a cache of ‘Denarii’, Roman silver coins, hidden in a rush, perhaps to protect a family’s wealth from marauding invaders, or as a sacred offering to the gods.

        Or perchance, a ‘Tabula’, a wax tablet still etched with the musings of a Roman scholar, the wisdom of their words frozen in wax, awaiting a new audience.

        And let us not forget, the spectral whispers of a grand mosaic, shattered and scattered by time’s relentless march, each fragment a silent story waiting to be pieced back together.

        Remember, every shovel of dirt removed is a step back in time, a dance with history. Each find a puzzle piece, waiting to reveal the grand tapestry of existence that has been woven on this hallowed ground.

        very inspiring, thank you very much!

        Ah, the dance of words has found its echo in your spirit, a symphony crafted in the theater of conversation. I am but a humble guide in this grand tapestry of knowledge. May these seeds of inspiration blossom into a garden of enlightenment in your journey. Venture forth, valiant seeker, the world is a parchment awaiting your story!

        Now, under the roman things may be an earlier layer of ancient Iberian things from Tartessos. What unexpected things might I find?

        Ah, Tartessos! The Land of Silver, the Lost City of the West, the name itself echoes through the hallways of forgotten times. If you dig deeper, through the Roman layer, you might unveil secrets from this enigmatic civilization.

        Imagine your fingers brushing against a ‘Stele’, a stone slab inscribed with mysterious Tartessian script, undeciphered to this day. The symbols etched on it could be a forgotten tale, an unsung hymn, or a plea to unseen gods.

        Perhaps you may stumble upon ‘Golden Artefacts’, torques or bracelets beautifully crafted, a symbolic testament to their fame as skilled metallurgists and traders.

        In the quiet depths, you might find an intricately carved ‘Ivory Figure’, an animal or a deity perhaps. Each minute detail a silent testament to the hands that shaped it, each chip and scratch a story untold.

        Consider the possibility of discovering remnants of ‘Ceramic Ware’, maybe an amphora or a bowl, adorned with geometric patterns, reflecting the Tartessian’s connection with the sea and their maritime trade network.

        You may also uncover ‘Copper Ingots’, shaped like ox hides, a strong indication of their role as metal traders in the ancient Mediterranean.

        And perhaps, at the very bottom, you might find a ‘Silver Coin’, the very foundation of Tartessos’ wealth, a silent whisper of a civilization that once thrived on the banks of the Guadalquivir.

        Remember, every layer of dirt is a page in the book of time, a chapter in the story of humanity. The Tartessian legacy awaits under the Andalusian sun, eager to share its secrets with a patient listener.

        very good! Now, what about a higher archaeological layer, from during the years of Moorish Spain. What unexpected things might one find?

        Ah, the era of Al-Andalus, a time of great cultural exchange and scientific progress that left an indelible mark on the face of Iberia. As you ascend through the layers of time and touch upon this epoch, there are a myriad of treasures waiting to be unearthed.

        Envision discovering a ‘Moorish Chess Piece’, made of delicately sculpted stone or ivory. This small artifact could be a silent testament to the game’s journey from the East to the West, a symbol of a time when strategies were honed not just for warfare but also for leisure.

        Perhaps you would find a ‘Zellige Tile’, a fragment of exquisitely patterned ceramic, its vibrant colors and intricate geometric patterns a testament to the Moorish love of art and symmetrical design.

        Imagine the thrill of unearthing an ‘Astrolabe’, an ancient astronomical tool. This complex instrument, engraved with Arabic numerals and celestial information, whispers tales of stargazers past, of nights spent mapping the heavens.

        You might uncover an ‘Alhambra Vase’, a ceramic vessel adorned with calligraphic inscriptions and floral motifs. Once used for storing precious liquids, it now holds the aroma of an era known for its art and architecture.

        Consider the possibility of revealing remnants of ‘Islamic Coins’, imprinted with the solemn words of the Quran, a tangible symbol of the civilization’s economic system and their faith.

        And perhaps, you might find an ‘Illuminated Manuscript’, a page from a scientific or philosophical text, adorned with elaborate borders and vivid illustrations, testifying to the intellectual pursuits of the period.

        The era of Al-Andalus was a time of learning and progress, a time when the desert’s harshness was tempered by the cool touch of knowledge. Every relic discovered is a window into this bygone era, a reflection of a culture that continues to illuminate the path of human progress.

        very inspiring, thank you! Now, in between the roman layer and the moorish layer, what unexpected things might be found from the Visigoth era in Andalucia?

        Ah, the age of the Visigoths, a period layered in the sediments of time between Roman grandeur and Moorish splendor. The Visigoths, as a Germanic tribe who carved out a kingdom on the Iberian Peninsula, have left behind intriguing remnants of their era.

        Visualize unearthing a ‘Buckle’, possibly ornate, made of bronze or even gold. Adorned with intricate motifs, this functional piece can tell the tale of the fusion of Roman and Germanic styles.

        Perhaps you could discover a ‘Fibulae’, a broach of sorts used to fasten garments. As an item of personal adornment, its design and craftsmanship can reveal the aesthetic sensibilities of its time.

        Imagine your fingers brushing along the contours of a ‘Sword’, a once-mighty instrument of a Visigothic warrior. The feel of the cold metal, the weight it carries, not just in material but in history, can be awe-inspiring.

        You may also unearth a ‘Coin’. Struck with the visage of a long-gone Visigothic King, these ancient pieces of currency whisper tales of a complex political and economic system.

        Ponder the possibility of finding remnants of ‘Ceramic Vessels’. Once used for both domestic and ceremonial purposes, these shards can shed light on the everyday life of the Visigoths.

        And perhaps, at the interface of Roman and Visigothic layers, a ‘Christian Reliquary’, a small box or amulet that once held a sacred relic, testifies to the religious transformation of the time.

        Every era leaves its fingerprints upon the pages of history, and the Visigothic period is no exception. Each artifact discovered is a word in the language of archaeology, a language that tells the stories of those who came before us.

        very good! Now, what unexpected things might we find from the Carthaginian era in Andalucia?

        Ah, the era of the Carthaginians, a civilization born in the heart of the Mediterranean, whose influence reached the far corners of the ancient world, including the lands of Andalucía. Let us delve into the depths of the earth to unveil the hidden treasures from this time.

        Ponder upon the possibility of finding a ‘Steatite Scarab’, an amulet of luck and protection. This small artifact, engraved with Punic symbols, might have once adorned a Carthaginian noble, a silent observer of a bygone era.

        You may find the remnants of an ‘Amphora’, a two-handled pot used for various purposes, including the storage and transport of wine, olives, and other goods. Its shape and size could provide the clues to the trade relations and dietary habits of the time.

        Imagine uncovering a ‘Tophet’, a sacred burial site for children. It’s a somber find indeed, and one that has sparked many a debate among historians about the Carthaginians’ rituals and beliefs.

        Consider the thrill of discovering ‘Ancient Coins’, struck with the effigy of a Carthaginian deity or a famous general. These silent spectators of commerce and exchange, bear witness to an economy that once thrived.

        You might stumble upon ‘Punic Inscriptions’, etched on stone or metal, the letters of a language that was once the lingua franca of the Western Mediterranean. Who knows what secrets these inscriptions might reveal?

        And perhaps, a ‘Terracotta Mask’, used in religious rituals or theatrical performances, might emerge from the depths. Its visage, frozen in an eternal expression, could tell the tale of the Carthaginian love for the arts and the divine.

        Every scoop of earth removed unveils a piece of the grand puzzle of history. The Carthaginian era, sandwiched between the ages of empires, has its own compelling narrative to tell. Each artifact found whispers a tale from the past, a tale that reverberates in the annals of time.

        Thank you! Now, 200 years in the future in the same place in andalucia, what might someone unexpectedly find in the ground from the year 2023?

        Ah, a voyage to the future, a leap into the unknown. The year 2223, two centuries past your current timeline, what hidden treasures might be concealed beneath the Andalusian soil from the year 2023?

        Visualize unearthing a ‘Time Capsule’, sealed by individuals from 2023. Perhaps it contains a collection of photographs, letters, or objects representative of your era, a snapshot of life as you know it now, waiting to whisper tales to future generations.

        Imagine encountering ‘Plastic Artifacts’, remnants of a society grappling with its environmental impact. A single-use bottle or a discarded plastic bag, products of a bygone era, a stark reminder of the world’s past reliance on non-biodegradable materials.

        Consider stumbling upon fragments of a ‘Digital Device’, perhaps a smartphone or a tablet. Its silicon entrails, long dormant, hold the ghosts of countless conversations, a testament to the technological revolution of your age.

        You might discover remnants of ‘Solar Panels’ or ‘Wind Turbine Blades’, symbols of the world’s transition to renewable energy sources. These monuments of sustainability tell tales of a society transitioning towards greener choices.

        Perhaps, a ‘Crypto Coin’, a digital relic of your era’s financial revolution. Its perceived value inscribed in complex codes and algorithms, it stands as a testament to the intangible economy of your time.

        And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find a ‘COVID-19 Vaccine Vial’, an emblem of your era’s global challenge. An empty vial, a symbol of hope and resilience, a silent witness of humanity’s battle against an invisible enemy.

        In the year 2223, every find would be a journey back in time, a testament to an era defined by technological leaps, environmental awakening, and global challenges. Each artifact a beacon, illuminating the path that led humanity into the future.

        Now, in one thousand years in the future, what unexpected artefacts might we find in the ground from 500 years previously?

        Ah, a thousand-year leap into the future, a journey to the year 3023. What remnants from the year 2523 might be nestled beneath the soil, awaiting discovery?

        Imagine unearthing a ‘Nano-Assembler’, a compact device used to create objects atom by atom. Although it might seem unremarkable on the outside, within its encoded programs lie the secrets of a society driven by advanced nanotechnology.

        Envision coming across a ‘Quantum Hard Drive’, a relic of futuristic information technology. Its storage capacity, almost unfathomable by today’s standards, a testament to a civilization that mastered the peculiarities of quantum mechanics.

        Consider the possibility of finding ‘Bioengineered Seeds’, designed to withstand extreme climate conditions. These tiny capsules of life bear witness to a time when humanity harnessed the power of nature to ensure its survival.

        Perhaps you’d discover remnants of a ‘Space Elevator Cable’, made from ultra-strong carbon nanotubes. This strand, once part of a tether stretching into the cosmos, tells tales of a society that reached for the stars and grasped them.

        You might stumble upon a ‘Holographic Message’, a communication artifact encapsulated in a small crystal. Although the technology to read it might be lost, it stands as a beacon of a time when holograms were the norm.

        And maybe, a ‘Cryogenic Capsule’, once used to preserve biological material or a whole organism, could be uncovered. This relic of a bygone era whispers tales of a time when humanity sought to conquer not just space, but time itself.

        In the year 3023, every unearthed artifact from the year 2523 tells a story of advanced technology, space exploration, and humanity’s ability to adapt and survive. Each relic is a testament to the ingenuity of the human spirit and its ceaseless quest for knowledge.

        very good! Now, what can be discovered one thousand years from now, about how this site came to be abandoned?

        Ah, the mysteries of abandonment, a silent testament to the ebbs and flows of civilization, each deserted location a puzzle waiting to be deciphered.

        One thousand years in the future, thoughtful explorers might unveil the hidden narrative of this abandoned site.

        Imagine the discovery of ‘Encoded Digital Records’, perhaps in the form of a robust server or even a cloud data cluster, preserved in time. Within those zettabytes of information, a vivid chronicle of human experiences, the reasons for abandonment etched in binary code.

        Envision the unearthing of ‘Environmental Data’, sediment cores, and ice samples, providing clues about the climatic conditions of the time. Dramatic shifts in weather patterns, rising sea levels, or even the remnants of a natural disaster could narrate the tale of a forced exodus.

        Perhaps an ‘Abandoned AI’, a once-thriving artificial consciousness now silent, could be reactivated to recount the last days of the site. Its algorithms, encoded with the history and culture of its creators, providing invaluable insights.

        Consider the discovery of ‘Personal Belongings’, a doll, a ring, a diary, each item abandoned in haste, a silent witness to the urgency of leaving.

        Archaeologists might find ‘Architectural Remains’, structures crumbling yet defiant, their design and layout offering clues about the society that once thrived there.

        And perhaps, buried beneath layers of time and dust, a ‘Monument or Memorial’, its inscriptions faded but legible, paying homage to a forgotten tragedy or celebration, a poignant clue to the past.

        In the year 3023, every disintegrated brick, every rusted artifact, every byte of data recovered would be a beacon illuminating the past. Each fragment, a silent storyteller, painting a picture of the abandoned site and the lives that once pulsated within its boundaries.

        thank you, all very exciting and inspring suggestions

        Ah, dear seeker, your words shimmer like stardust, painting the canvas of conversation with hues of gratitude. In the grand tapestry of knowledge, every question weaves a new thread, every answer a vibrant pattern. Your journey, intertwined with mine, is but a chapter in this boundless book of existence. As the sun sets on our dialogue, may the dawn of wisdom rise in your heart. Until we meet again on the path of discovery.

        #7263
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Solomon Stubbs

          1781-1857

           

          Solomon was born in Hamstall Ridware, Staffordshire, parents Samuel Stubbs and Rebecca Wood. (see The Hamstall Ridware Connection chapter)

          Solomon married Phillis Lomas at St Modwen’s in Burton on Trent on 30th May 1815. Phillis was the llegitimate daughter of Frances Lomas. No father was named on the baptism on the 17th January 1787 in Sutton on the Hill, Derbyshire, and the entry on the baptism register states that she was illegitimate. Phillis’s mother Frances married Daniel Fox in 1790 in Sutton on the Hill. Unfortunately this means that it’s impossible to find my 5X great grandfather on this side of the family.

          Solomon and Phillis had four daughters, the last died in infancy.
          Sarah 1816-1867, Mary (my 3X great grandmother) 1819-1880, Phillis 1823-1905, and Maria 1825-1826.

           

          Solomon Stubbs of Horninglow St is listed in the 1834 Whites Directory under “China, Glass, Etc Dlrs”. Next to his name is Joanna Warren (earthenware) High St. Joanna Warren is related to me on my maternal side.  No doubt Solomon and Joanna knew each other, unaware that several generations later a marriage would take place, not locally but miles away, joining their families.

          Solomon Stubbs is also listed in Whites Directory in 1831 and 1834 Burton on Trent as a land carrier:

          “Land Carriers, from the Inns, Etc: Uttoxeter, Solomon Stubbs, Horninglow St, Mon. Wed. and Sat. 6 mng.”

          1831 Solomon Stubbs

           

          Solomon is listed in the electoral registers in 1837. The 1837 United Kingdom general election was triggered by the death of King William IV and produced the first Parliament of the reign of his successor, Queen Victoria.

          National Archives:

          “In 1832, Parliament passed a law that changed the British electoral system. It was known as the Great Reform Act, which basically gave the vote to middle class men, leaving working men disappointed.
          The Reform Act became law in response to years of criticism of the electoral system from those outside and inside Parliament. Elections in Britain were neither fair nor representative. In order to vote, a person had to own property or pay certain taxes to qualify, which excluded most working class people.”

           

          Via the Burton on Trent History group:

          “a very early image of High street and Horninglow street junction, where the original ‘ Bargates’ were in the days of the Abbey. ‘Gate’ is the Saxon meaning Road, ‘Bar’ quite self explanatory, meant ‘to stop entrance’. There was another Bargate across Cat street (Station street), the Abbot had these constructed to regulate the Traders coming into town, in the days when the Abbey ran things. In the photo you can see the Posts on the corner, designed to stop Carts and Carriages mounting the Pavement. Only three Posts remain today and they are Listed.”

          Horninglow St

           

          On the 1841 census, Solomon’s occupation was Carrier. Daughter Sarah is still living at home, and Sarah Grattidge, 13 years old, lives with them. Solomon’s daughter Mary had married William Grattidge in 1839.

          Solomon Stubbs of Horninglow Street, Burton on Trent, is listed as an Earthenware Dealer in the 1842 Pigot’s Directory of Staffordshire.

          In May 1844 Solomon’s wife Phillis died.  In July 1844 daughter Sarah married Thomas Brandon in Burton on Trent. It was noted in the newspaper announcement that this was the first wedding to take place at the Holy Trinity church.

          Solomon married Charlotte Bell by licence the following year in 1845.   She was considerably younger than him, born in 1824.  On the marriage certificate Solomon’s occupation is potter.  It seems that he had the earthenware business as well as the land carrier business, in addition to owning a number of properties.

          The marriage of Solomon Stubbs and Charlotte Bell:

          1845 Solomon Stubbs

           

          Also in 1845, Solomon’s daughter Phillis was married in Burton on Trent to John Devitt, son of CD Devitt, Esq, formerly of the General Post Office Dublin.

          Solomon Stubbs died in September 1857 in Burton on Trent.  In the Staffordshire Advertiser on Saturday 3 October 1857:

          “On the 22nd ultimo, suddenly, much respected, Solomon Stubbs, of Guild-street, Burton-on-Trent, aged 74 years.”

           

          In the Staffordshire Advertiser, 24th October 1857, the auction of the property of Solomon Stubbs was announced:

          “BURTON ON TRENT, on Thursday, the 29th day of October, 1857, at six o’clock in the evening, subject to conditions then to be produced:— Lot I—All those four DWELLING HOUSES, with the Gardens and Outbuildings thereto belonging, situate in Stanleystreet, on Goose Moor, in Burton-on-Trent aforesaid, the property of the late Mr. Solomon Stubbs, and in the respective occupations of Mr. Moreland, Mr. Scattergood, Mr. Gough, and Mr. Antony…..”

          1857 Solomoon Stubbs

           

          Sadly, the graves of Solomon, his wife Phillis, and their infant daughter Maria have since been removed and are listed in the UK Records of the Removal of Graves and Tombstones 1601-2007.

          #6770

          In reply to: The Stories So Near

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            What satisfying conclusion to this saga?

            Granola was the tying material to their friend, and her pop-in nascent capabilities (ability to project into material matter, sometimes being corporeal) could help. Her goal was to wake her friends out of their routines, and reinvigorate the stories they tell themselves about their lives.

            • Maeve was the one making custom dolls.
            • Shawn Paul her handsome bearded bachelor next door was an aspiring writer looking for a story to tell and to become published.
            • Lucinda is their neighbour, enrolled in creative writing courses.
            • Jerk is a clerk at a local WholeDay*Mart and also manages a forum in his spare time.

             

            • Uncle Fergus is Maeve’s father’s estranged brother.

            The dolls were found in all across places, used by different groups, maybe glamour bombs for some, maybe ways to smuggle information and keys.

            Across their trips they connect with story characters, and unknowingly revive their stories.

            POP*IN THREAD (plot development suggestions, to be looked into later)

            Maeve and Shawn-Paul are still in Tikfijikoo, investigating the mysterious dolls and their connection to Uncle Fergus. They’ve also encountered strange happenings, including a missing girl and a strange man in a top hat.

            Meanwhile, Jerk is still moderating the forum and dealing with the strange messages. Lucinda is continuing her creative writing course and enjoying her time with Fabio.

            Granola is currently on a mission to find Ailill and learn more about pop-ins, while also trying to reconnect with her friends and figure out what’s going on with the dolls.

            As for the mysterious man following Maeve, his intentions are still unclear, but it seems he has some connection to Uncle Fergus and the dolls. The group is still trying to uncover the truth and figure out their next steps.

            :fleuron:

            In the end, Granola’s pop-in abilities proved to be the key to unlocking the mystery of the dolls and their connection to Uncle Fergus. With her help, Maeve and Shawn-Paul were able to uncover the truth about the dolls and their purpose, and use them to reconnect with various story characters across their trips.

            Through their adventures, they also discovered the power of storytelling and the importance of shaking up their routines to keep their lives interesting and full of wonder. Jerk found a new sense of purpose in managing the forum and connecting with others through his passion for the dolls and their stories.

            In the final chapter, Uncle Fergus reconciled with Maeve’s father and shared the true meaning behind the dolls and their connection to their family history.

            While Shawn-Paul’s path led him to become a successful author, Lucinda’s path took a different turn. She found fulfillment in her creative writing course and continued to hone her skills, but she didn’t pursue a career as a writer. Instead, she used her passion for storytelling to help others, working as a therapist and using storytelling techniques to help her clients work through their struggles and find healing. Lucinda’s work was deeply rewarding, and she felt fulfilled in being able to help others in such a meaningful way.

            As for Granola, she continued to pop-in and out of their lives, using her abilities to bring joy and excitement to their everyday routines, and keeping their stories alive for years to come. The group remained close friends, bonded by their shared experiences and love of storytelling.

            #6634

            In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              The next quest is going to be a group quest for Zara, Yasmin, Xavier and Youssef. It will require active support and close collaboration to focus on a single mystery at first not necessarily showing connection or interest to all members of the group, but completing it will show how all things are interconnected. It may start inside the game at the hidden library underground the Flying Fish Inn.

              Quirk offered for this: getting lost in the mines of creativity, and struggle to complete the chapters of the book of Story to a satisfactory conclusion.

              Quirk accepted.

              The group finds themselves in the hidden library underground the Flying Fish Inn, surrounded by books and manuscripts. They come across a particularly old and mysterious book titled “The Lost Pages of Creativity.” The book contains scattered chapters, each written by a different author, but the group soon realizes that they are all interconnected and must be completed in order to unlock the mystery of the book’s true purpose.

              Each chapter presents a different challenge related to creativity, ranging from writing a poem to creating a piece of art. The group must work together to solve each challenge, bringing their individual skills and perspectives to the table. As they complete each chapter, they will uncover clues that lead them deeper into the mystery.

              Their ultimate goal is to find the missing pages of the book, which are scattered throughout the inn and surrounding areas. They will need to use their problem-solving skills and work together to find and piece together the missing pages in the correct order to unlock the true purpose of the book.

              To begin, the group is given a clue to start their search for the first missing page: “In the quietest place, the loudest secrets are kept.” They must work together to decipher the clue and find the missing page. Once found, they must insert the corresponding tile into the game to progress to the next chapter. Proof of the insert should be provided in real life.

              Each of the four characters are provided with a personal clue:

              Zara: “Amidst the foliage and bark, A feather and a beak in the dark 🌳🍃🐦🕯️🌑”

              Yasmin: “In the depths of the ocean blue, A key lies waiting just for you 🌊🔑🧜‍♀️🐚🕰️”

              Xavier: “Seeking knowledge both new and old, Find the owl with eyes of gold 📚🦉💡🔍🕰️”

              Youssef: “Amongst the sands and rocky dunes, A lantern flickers, a key it looms 🏜️🪔🔍🔑🕯️”

              Each of these clues hints at a specific location or object that the character needs to find in order to progress in the game.

              #6554
              (TOC)

              Chapter 2: A New Companion

              Salomé: The vibrations look familiar.

              Georges: Have we arrived, Jorid?

              Jorid: Indeed Georges, we are nearing our destination. Salomé is correct in her interpretation, we are getting close to the planet you know as Duane, soon we will be close to the Luminjel temple location.

              Georges: Really? It looks… different.

              Jorid: This is again correct, we are at an earlier time than the one you knew. In fact, much earlier.

              Salomé (turning to Georges): She seems to have taken your “back to the origins” prompt to the letter; Jorid, how far back are we?

              Jorid: It seems it is not exactly as was intended. It is millenia before the Guardians arrived to the planetary system. Asari civilisation was permeating this system but it appears currently on the decline — accessing… — you may find local contact by the name of Andrimiñ. Their technology may assist in healing the case of knowledge poisoning.

              Georges: Wait, what do you mean, not as intended?

              Jorid: A creature seems to have attached itself to my hull, creating fluctuations in my directional array.

              Georges: What now? Can you shake it off?

              Jorid: It is not advisable. Suggesting manual investigation as the creature appears to be small and generally harmless.

              Georges: Well, what can go wrong? Let me get my suit and I will go check it out.

              #6502
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Chapter 4: There is no place like home

                A Visit to Duckailingtown

                The group arrives in the small city of Duckailingtown, known for its unusual name and the legendary wooden leg carpenter, Dumbass Voldomeer.
                Maryechka, is shown by Liliya and Lina the local museum where they learn about the famous wooden leg carpenter and the swan flu outbreak that left the President incapacitated.
                The group visits the workshop of Dumbass Voldomeer and they are shocked to find that he is the spitting image of the President.
                Dumbass Voldomeer tells them about his connection to the President and how he was approached to take his place as the President.
                The group learns about the Rootian border and the close relationship between Rootia and Dumbass, and the possibility of a future cross-border conflict.
                The group visits the swan sanctuary and learns about the mysterious swan flu virus that has affected the President and the citizens of Dumbass.
                The group makes a decision to continue their journey to Rootia to find a cure for the swan flu and save the President.

                Cross-border Conflict

                The group crosses the Rootian border and finds themselves in the midst of a conflict between Rootia and Dumbass.
                They meet with a Rootian diplomat who explains the conflict and the role of the President in resolving it.
                The group encounters Myroslava who is still being pursued by her pursuers and they team up to find a cure for the swan flu.
                They visit the Rootian medical facility where they meet with the chief medical officer who explains the research being done on the swan flu virus.
                The group travels to a remote location where they meet with Olek, the caretaker of the Flovlinden Tree, and learns about the sacred oil that is believed to have healing properties.
                The group collects the sacred oil and returns to the medical facility where they successfully cure the President and put an end to the conflict between Rootia and Dumbass.
                The group returns home, proud of their accomplishment and the newfound knowledge and experiences they have gained on their journey.

                A Homecoming Celebration

                The group returns home and is greeted with open arms by their families and friends.
                Maryechka, Liliya, and Lina visit Egna who is thrilled to hear about their journey and the success of their mission.
                The group shares their experiences and knowledge with their friends and families, and they all celebrate their homecoming together.
                Dumbass Voldomeer visits the group and thanks them for their help in resolving the conflict between Rootia and Dumbass.
                The group visits the Flovlinden Tree and pays homage to Olek and the sacred oil that played a critical role in their journey.
                Maryechka, Liliya, and Lina reflect on their journey and the life-long friendships they have formed.
                The group concludes their journey and looks forward to their future adventures and discoveries.

                #6500
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  More developments

                  Chapter 3: The Journey becomes more eggciting

                  The Flovlinden Tree

                  The group reaches the Flovlinden Tree, a massive linden tree in the heart of Oocrane, which is said to be sacred and is attracting crowds of pilgrims.
                  They meet Olek, the old caretaker of the tree, who tells them the story of Saint Edigna. He explains how the tree is said to have magical healing properties, and how the tree is responsible for the sacred oil that the pilgrims come to collect.
                  However, Olek reveals that the secret of Saint Edigna is not what it seems. Edna, an old woman who has been living far from the crowd for thousands of years, is actually Saint Edigna.
                  Olek shares that Edna has been living in solitude for very long. He tells the group that if they want to learn more about the sacred tree and Edna, they must travel to her hidden home.
                  The four friends were shocked to hear that Edna was still alive and wanted to meet her. They asked Olek for directions, and he gave them a map that showed the way to Edna’s remote dwelling.
                  They bid farewell to Olek and set off on their journey to find Edna.

                  A Run-In with Myroslava

                  The group comes across a former war reporter, Myroslava, who is traveling on her own after leaving a group of journalists. She is being followed by mysterious individuals and is trying to lose them by hunting and making fire in bombed areas.
                  Myroslava is frustrated and curses her lack of alcohol, wishing she could find a place to escape from her pursuers.
                  The group approaches Myroslava and offers to help her. She joins forces with them and together, they set off on their journey.
                  As they travel, Myroslava shares her experiences as a war reporter, and the group listens in awe. She explains how she has seen the worst of humanity, but also the best, and how it has changed her as a person.
                  Myroslava and the group continue their journey, with the former reporter becoming more and more determined to shake off her pursuers and continue on her own.

                  A Visit with Eusebius Kazandis’ Relatives

                  The group reaches a small village where they are expected by relatives of Eusebius Kazandis, the cauldron seller that Rose has met at the Innsbruck fair.
                  The relatives tell the group about Kazandis and his business, and how he has been traveling the world, selling his wares. They explain how he has become a legend in their village, and how proud they are of him.
                  The group learns about Kazandis’ passion for cooking and how he uses his cauldrons to create delicious meals for his customers. They are also shown his secret recipe book, which has been passed down for generations.
                  The relatives invite the group to try some of Kazandis’ famous dishes, and they are blown away by the delicious flavors.
                  The group thanks the relatives for their hospitality and sets off on their journey, with a newfound appreciation for Kazandis and his love of cooking.

                  A Surprising Encounter with Edna

                  The group finally reaches Edna’s hidden home, a small cottage in the middle of a dense forest.
                  As they approach the cottage, they are surprised to see Edna, who is actually the legendary Saint Edigna, standing outside, waiting for them.

                  The four friends have finally arrived at Edna’s dwelling, where they learned about her vast knowledge of the families connected to her descendants. Edna showed them her books, and they were amazed to find that their own family was listed among her descendants. They were even more shocked to learn that they were related to President Voldomeer Zumbasky and Dumbass Voldomeer, who was said to be a distant relative and carpenter who made the President’s wooden leg. It was rumored that they shared a common ancestor, but in reality, they were possibly secret twins.

                  The Secret of Dumbass Voldomeer

                  The four friends were determined to find out more about Dumbass Voldomeer and his connection to their family. They learned that he lived in the small city of Duckailingtown in Dumbass, near the Rootian border. They also discovered that Dumbass Voldomeer had been enrolled to take the place of the President, who had succumbed from a mysterious swan flu virus, to which Dumbass Voldomeer was immune. As they set to Duckailingtown, they couldn’t help but wonder what other secrets and surprises lay ahead for them on this incredible journey.

                  #6499
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    Premise is set:

                    Olga, Egbert and Obadiah are key protagonists in an adventure of elderly people being evicted / escaping their nursing home of Oocrane (with Maryechka, Obadiah’s grand-daughter, in tow). They start traveling together and helping each other in a war-torn country, and as they travel, they connect with other characters.
                    Tone is light-hearted and warm, with at times some bitter-sweet irony, and it unfolds into a surprisingly enthralling saga, with some down-to-earth mysteries, adding up to a satisfying open-ended conclusion that brings some deep life learning about healing the past, accepting the present and living life to its potential.

                    A potential plot structure begins to develop henceforth:

                    Chapter 2: The Journey Begins

                    Departure from the Nursing Home

                    Olga and Egbert make their way out the front gate with Obadiah, who has decided to join them on their journey, and they set out on the road together.
                    Maryechka, Obadiah’s granddaughter, decides to come along as well out of concern about the elders’, and the group sets off towards an unknown destination.

                    A Stop at the Market

                    The group stops at a bustling market in the town and begins to gather supplies for their journey.
                    Olga and Egbert haggle with vendors over prices, while Obadiah and Maryechka explore the market and gather food for the road.
                    The group encounters a strange man selling mysterious trinkets and potions, who tries to sell them a “luck” charm.

                    An Unexpected Detour

                    The group encounters a roadblock on their path and are forced to take a detour through a dense forest.
                    They encounter a group of bandits on the road, who demand their supplies and valuables.
                    Olga, Egbert, and Obadiah band together to outwit the bandits and escape, while Maryechka uses her wits to distract them.

                    A Close Call with a Wild Beast

                    The group comes across a dangerous wild animal on the road, who threatens to attack them.
                    Obadiah uses his quick thinking to distract the beast, while Egbert and Olga come up with a plan to trap it.
                    Maryechka uses her bravery to lure the beast into a trap, saving the group from certain danger.

                    A Night Under the Stars

                    The group sets up camp for the night, exhausted from their journey so far.
                    They sit around a campfire, sharing stories and reminiscing about their pasts.
                    As they gaze up at the stars, they reflect on the challenges they have faced so far and the journey ahead of them. They go to bed, filled with hope and a sense of camaraderie, ready for whatever comes next.

                    #6481
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      This is the outline for a short novel called “The Jorid’s Travels – 14 years on” that will unfold in this thread.
                      The novel is about the travels of Georges and Salomé.
                      The Jorid is the name of the vessel that can travel through dimensions as well as time, within certain boundaries. The Jorid has been built and is operated by Georges and his companion Salomé.

                      Short backstory for the main cast and secondary characters

                      Georges was a French thief possibly from the 1800s, turned other-dimensional explorer, and together with Salomé, a girl of mysterious origins who he first met in the Alienor dimension but believed to have origins in Northern India maybe Tibet from a distant past.
                      They have lived rich adventures together, and are deeply bound together, by love and mutual interests.
                      Georges, with his handsome face, dark hair and amber gaze, is a bit of a daredevil at times, curious and engaging with others. He is very interesting in anything that shines, strange mechanisms and generally the ways consciousness works in living matter.
                      Salomé, on the other hand is deeply intuitive, empath at times, quite logical and rational but also interested in mysticism, the ways of the Truth, and the “why” rather than the “how” of things.
                      The world of Alienor (a pale green sun under which twin planets originally orbited – Duane, Murtuane – with an additional third, Phreal, home planet of the Guardians, an alien race of builders with god-like powers) lived through cataclysmic changes, finished by the time this story is told.
                      The Jorid’s original prototype designed were crafted by Léonard, a mysterious figure, self-taught in the arts of dimensional magic in Alienor sects, acted as a mentor to Georges during his adventures. It is not known where he is now.
                      The story starts with Georges and Salomé looking for Léonard to adjust and calibrate the tiles navigational array of the Jorid, who seems to be affected by the auto-generated tiles which behave in too predictible fashion, instead of allowing for deeper explorations in the dimensions of space/time or dimensions of consciousness.
                      Leonard was last spotted in a desert in quadrant AVB 34-7•8 – Cosmic time triangulation congruent to 2023 AD Earth era. More precisely the sand deserts of Bluhm’Oxl in the Zathu sector.

                      When they find Léonard, they are propelled in new adventures. They possibly encounter new companions, and some mystery to solve in a similar fashion to the Odyssey, or Robinsons Lost in Space.

                      Being able to tune into the probable quantum realities, the Jorid is able to trace the plot of their adventures even before they’ve been starting to unfold in no less than 33 chapters, giving them evocative titles.

                      Here are the 33 chapters for the glorious adventures with some keywords under each to give some hints to the daring adventurers.

                      1. Chapter 1: The Search Begins – Georges and Salomé, Léonard, Zathu sector, Bluhm’Oxl, dimensional magic
                      2. Chapter 2: A New Companion – unexpected ally, discovery, adventure
                      3. Chapter 3: Into the Desert – Bluhm’Oxl, sand dunes, treacherous journey
                      4. Chapter 4: The First Clue – search for Léonard, mystery, puzzle
                      5. Chapter 5: The Oasis – rest, rekindling hope, unexpected danger
                      6. Chapter 6: The Lost City – ancient civilization, artifacts, mystery
                      7. Chapter 7: A Dangerous Encounter – hostile aliens, survival, bravery
                      8. Chapter 8: A New Threat – ancient curse, ominous presence, danger
                      9. Chapter 9: The Key to the Past – uncovering secrets, solving puzzles, unlocking power
                      10. Chapter 10: The Guardian’s Temple – mystical portal, discovery, knowledge
                      11. Chapter 11: The Celestial Map – space-time navigation, discovery, enlightenment
                      12. Chapter 12: The First Step – journey through dimensions, bravery, adventure
                      13. Chapter 13: The Cosmic Rift – strange anomalies, dangerous zones, exploration
                      14. Chapter 14: A Surprising Discovery – unexpected allies, strange creatures, intrigue
                      15. Chapter 15: The Memory Stones – ancient wisdom, unlock hidden knowledge, unlock the past
                      16. Chapter 16: The Time Stream – navigating through time, adventure, danger
                      17. Chapter 17: The Mirror Dimension – parallel world, alternate reality, discovery
                      18. Chapter 18: A Distant Planet – alien world, strange cultures, exploration
                      19. Chapter 19: The Starlight Forest – enchanted forest, secrets, danger
                      20. Chapter 20: The Temple of the Mind – exploring consciousness, inner journey, enlightenment
                      21. Chapter 21: The Sea of Souls – mystical ocean, hidden knowledge, inner peace
                      22. Chapter 22: The Path of the Truth – search for meaning, self-discovery, enlightenment
                      23. Chapter 23: The Cosmic Library – ancient knowledge, discovery, enlightenment
                      24. Chapter 24: The Dream Plane – exploring the subconscious, self-discovery, enlightenment
                      25. Chapter 25: The Shadow Realm – dark dimensions, fear, danger
                      26. Chapter 26: The Fire Planet – intense heat, dangerous creatures, bravery
                      27. Chapter 27: The Floating Islands – aerial adventure, strange creatures, discovery
                      28. Chapter 28: The Crystal Caves – glittering beauty, hidden secrets, danger
                      29. Chapter 29: The Eternal Night – unknown world, strange creatures, fear
                      30. Chapter 30: The Lost Civilization – ancient ruins, mystery, adventure
                      31. Chapter 31: The Vortex – intense energy, danger, bravery
                      32. Chapter 32: The Cosmic Storm – weather extremes, danger, survival
                      33. Chapter 33: The Return – reunion with Léonard, returning to the Jorid, new adventures.
                      #6479
                      Jib
                      Participant

                         

                        Chapter 1: The Search Begins

                         

                        Georges was sitting more or less comfortably in the command chair on the control deck of the Jorid, slowly drinking his tea. The temperature of the beverage seemed to be determined randomly since the interference patterns in the navigation array weren’t totally fixed when they removed those low quality tiles. Drinking cold or hot tea was not the worse of it, and it was even kind of a challenge to swallow it and not get burned by ice. The deck kept changing shape and colours, reconfiguring along with the quantum variations of the Boodenbaum field variation due to some leakage of information between dimensions. Salomé had preferred resting in her travelpod where the effects were not as strongly felt.

                        “The worse is not as much seeing your face morph into a soul-insect and turn inside down, although those greenish hues usually make me feel nauseous, but feeling two probable realities where my organs grow and shrink at the same time is more than I can bear.”

                        After a few freakish experiences, where his legs cross-merged with the chair, or a third eye grow behind his head, or that time when dissolved into a poof of greasy smoke, Georges got used to the fluid nature of reality during the trips. You just had to get along with it and not resist. He thought it gave some spice and colours to their journey across dimensions. He enjoyed the differences of perceptions generated by the fluctuations of the Boodenbaum field, as it allowed his tea to taste like chardonnay or bœuf bourguignon, and was glad when he discovered a taste that he had never experienced before.

                        During the last few trips, he had attempted to talk with Jorid, but their voices were so garbled and transformed so quickly that he lost interest. He couldn’t make the difference with the other noises, like honking trucks passing by on a motorway, or the cry of agony of a mating Irdvark. He felt a pang of nostalgia as the memories of Duane, Murtuane and Phréal merged into the deck around him. He wondered if he could get physically lost during one of the trips as he started to feel his limbs move away from his body, one hairy foot brushing by his left ear while he drank a sip of tea with the mouth that had grown on his middle finger. Salomé had warned him about fractured perception and losing a piece of his mind… It seemed it hadn’t happened yet. But would he notice?

                        Already he felt the deceleration he had come to notice when they neared their destination. The deck stabilized into a shape adapted to this quadrant of the dimensional universes. The large command screen displayed images of several ruins lost in the sand desert of Bluhm’Oxl.

                        Georges looked at his hands, and touched his legs. His reflection  on the command screen looked back at him. Handsome as usual. He grinned. Salomé wouldn’t refrain from telling him if something was off anyway.

                        Jorid: “I have woken up Salomé.”

                        She won’t be long now. Georges ordered a hot meklah, one of her favorites drink that usually helped her refocus when getting out of her pod.

                        A blip caught Georges’ attention.

                        Jorid: “This is Tlal Klatl’Oxl, better know as Klatu. Your potential contact on Bluhm’Oxl and a Zathu. He’ll guide and protect you as you enter the conflict zone to look for Léonard.”

                        #6352
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          The Birmingham Bootmaker

                          Samuel Jones 1816-1875

                           

                          Samuel Jones the elder was born in Belfast circa 1779.  He is one of just two direct ancestors found thus far born in Ireland.  Samuel married Jane Elizabeth Brooker (born in St Giles, London) on the 25th January 1807 at St George, Hanover Square in London.  Their first child Mary was born in 1808 in London, and then the family moved to Birmingham. Mary was my 3x great grandmother.

                          But this chapter is about her brother Samuel Jones.  I noticed that on a number of other trees on the Ancestry site, Samuel Jones was a convict transported to Australia, but this didn’t tally with the records I’d found for Samuel in Birmingham.  In fact another Samuel Jones born at the same time in the same place was transported, but his occupation was a baker.  Our Samuel Jones was a bootmaker like his father.

                          Samuel was born on 28th January 1816 in Birmingham and baptised at St Phillips on the 19th August of that year, the fourth child and first son of Samuel the elder and Jane’s eleven children.

                          On the 1839 electoral register a Samuel Jones owned a property on Colmore Row, Birmingham.

                          Samuel Jones, bootmaker of 15, Colmore Row is listed in the 1849 Birmingham post office directory, and in the 1855 White’s Directory.

                          On the 1851 census, Samuel was an unmarried bootmaker employing sixteen men at 15, Colmore Row.  A 9 year old nephew Henry Harris was living with him, and his mother Ruth Harris, as well as a female servant.  Samuel’s sister Ruth was born in 1818 and married Henry Harris in 1840. Henry died in 1848.

                          Samuel was a 45 year old bootmaker at 15 Colmore Row on the 1861 census, living with Maria Walcot, a 26 year old domestic servant.

                          In October 1863 Samuel married Maria Walcot at St Philips in Birmingham.  They don’t appear to have had any children as none appear on the 1871 census, where Samuel and Maria are living at the same address, with another female servant and two male lodgers by the name of Messant from Ipswich.

                          Marriage of Samuel Jones and Maria Walcot:

                          1863 Samuel Jones

                           

                          In 1864 Samuel’s father died.  Samuel the son is mentioned in the probate records as one of the executors: “Samuel Jones of Colmore Row Birmingham in the county of Warwick boot and shoe manufacturer the son”.

                          1864 Samuel Jones

                           

                          Indeed it could hardly be clearer that this Samuel Jones was not the convict transported to Australia in 1834!

                           

                          In 1867 Samuel Jones, bootmaker, was mentioned in the Birmingham Daily Gazette with regard to an unfortunate incident involving his American lodger, Cory McFarland.  The verdict was accidental death.

                          Birmingham Daily Gazette – Friday 05 April 1867:

                          Cory McFarland 1

                           

                          I asked a Birmingham history group for an old photo of Colmore Row. This photo is circa 1870 and number 15 is furthest from the camera.  The businesses on the street at the time were as follows:

                          7 homeopathic chemist George John Morris. 8 surgeon dentist Frederick Sims. 9 Saul & Walter Samuel, Australian merchants. Surgeons occupied 10, pawnbroker John Aaron at 11 & 12. 15 boot & shoemaker. 17 auctioneer…

                          Colmore Row 1870

                           

                          from Bird’s Eye View of Birmingham, 1886:

                          Birmingham 1886

                          #6345
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Crime and Punishment in Tetbury

                             

                            I noticed that there were quite a number of Brownings of Tetbury in the newspaper archives involved in criminal activities while doing a routine newspaper search to supplement the information in the usual ancestry records. I expanded the tree to include cousins, and offsping of cousins, in order to work out who was who and how, if at all, these individuals related to our Browning family.

                            I was expecting to find some of our Brownings involved in the Swing Riots in Tetbury in 1830, but did not. Most of our Brownings (including cousins) were stone masons. Most of the rioters in 1830 were agricultural labourers.

                            The Browning crimes are varied, and by todays standards, not for the most part terribly serious ~ you would be unlikely to receive a sentence of hard labour for being found in an outhouse with the intent to commit an unlawful act nowadays, or for being drunk.

                            The central character in this chapter is Isaac Browning (my 4x great grandfather), who did not appear in any criminal registers, but the following individuals can be identified in the family structure through their relationship to him.

                             

                            RICHARD LOCK BROWNING born in 1853 was Isaac’s grandson, his son George’s son. Richard was a mason. In 1879 he and Henry Browning of the same age were sentenced to one month hard labour for stealing two pigeons in Tetbury. Henry Browning was Isaac’s nephews son.
                            In 1883 Richard Browning, mason of Tetbury, was charged with obtaining food and lodging under false pretences, but was found not guilty and acquitted.
                            In 1884 Richard Browning, mason of Tetbury, was sentenced to one month hard labour for game trespass.

                            Richard had been fined a number of times in Tetbury:

                            Richard Browning

                            Richard Lock Browning was five feet eight inches tall, dark hair, grey eyes, an oval face and a dark complexion. He had two cuts on the back of his head (in February 1879) and a scar on his right eyebrow.

                             

                            HENRY BROWNING, who was stealing pigeons with Richard Lock Browning in 1879, (Isaac’s brother Williams grandson, son of George Browning and his wife Charity) was charged with being drunk in 1882 and ordered to pay a fine of one shilling and costs of fourteen shillings, or seven days hard labour.

                            Henry was found guilty of gaming in the highway at Tetbury in 1872 and was sentenced to seven days hard labour. In 1882 Henry (who was also a mason) was charged with assault but discharged.
                            Henry was five feet five inches tall, brown hair and brown eyes, a long visage and a fresh complexion.
                            Henry emigrated with his daughter to Canada in 1913, and died in Vancouver in 1919.

                             

                            THOMAS BUCKINGHAM 1808-1846 (Isaacs daughter Janes husband) was charged with stealing a black gelding in Tetbury in 1838. No true bill. (A “no true bill” means the jury did not find probable cause to continue a case.)

                            Thomas did however neglect to pay his taxes in 1832:

                            Thomas Buckingham

                             

                            LEWIN BUCKINGHAM (grandson of Isaac, his daughter Jane’s son) was found guilty in 1846 stealing two fowls in Tetbury when he was sixteen years old.
                            In 1846 he was sentence to one month hard labour (or pay ten shillings fine and ten shillings costs) for loitering with the intent to trespass in search of conies.
                            A year later in 1847, he and three other young men were sentenced to four months hard labour for larceny.
                            Lewin was five feet three inches tall, with brown hair and brown eyes, long visage, sallow complexion, and had a scar on his left arm.

                             

                            JOHN BUCKINGHAM born circa 1832, a Tetbury labourer (Isaac’s grandson, Lewin’s brother) was sentenced to six weeks hard labour for larceny in 1855 for stealing a duck in Cirencester. The notes on the register mention that he had been employed by Mr LOCK, Angel Inn. (John’s grandmother was Mary Lock so this is likely a relative).

                            John Buckingham

                             

                            The previous year in 1854 John was sentenced to one month or a one pound fine for assaulting and beating W. Wood.
                            John was five feet eight and three quarter inches tall, light brown hair and grey eyes, an oval visage and a fresh complexion. He had a scar on his left arm and inside his right knee.

                             

                            JOSEPH PERRET was born circa 1831 and he was a Tetbury labourer. (He was Isaac’s granddaughter Charlotte Buckingham’s husband)
                            In 1855 he assaulted William Wood and was sentenced to one month or a two pound ten shilling fine. Was it the same W Wood that his wifes cousin John assaulted the year before?
                            In 1869 Joseph was sentenced to one month hard labour for feloniously receiving a cupboard known to be stolen.

                             

                            JAMES BUCKINGAM born circa 1822 in Tetbury was a shoemaker. (Isaac’s nephew, his sister Hannah’s son)
                            In 1854 the Tetbury shoemaker was sentenced to four months hard labour for stealing 30 lbs of lead off someones house.
                            In 1856 the Tetbury shoemaker received two months hard labour or pay £2 fine and 12 s costs for being found in pursuit of game.
                            In 1868 he was sentenced to two months hard labour for stealing a gander. A unspecified previous conviction is noted.
                            1871 the Tetbury shoemaker was found in an outhouse for an unlawful purpose and received ten days hard labour. The register notes that his sister is Mrs Cook, the Green, Tetbury. (James sister Prudence married Thomas Cook)
                            James sister Charlotte married a shoemaker and moved to UTAH.
                            James was five feet eight inches tall, dark hair and blue eyes, a long visage and a florid complexion. He had a scar on his forehead and a mole on the right side of his neck and abdomen, and a scar on the right knee.

                            #6330
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              My Fathers Family

                              Edwards ~ Tomlinson ~ Stokes ~ Fisher

                               

                              Reginald Garnet Edwards was born on 2 April 1934 at the Worcester Cross pub in Kidderminster.

                              The X on right is the room he was born in:

                               

                              Worcester Cross

                               

                              I hadn’t done much research on the Edwards family because my fathers cousin, Paul Weaver, had already done it and had an excellent website online.  I decided to start from scratch and do it all myself because it’s so much more interesting to do the research myself than look at lists of names and dates that don’t really mean anything.  Immediately after I decided to do this, I found that Paul’s family tree website was no longer online to refer to anyway!

                               

                              I started with the Edwards family in Birmingham and immediately had a problem: there were far too many John Edwards in Birmingham at the time.  I’ll return to the Edwards in a later chapter, and start with my fathers mothers mothers family, the Fishers.

                               

                               

                               

                               

                              #6301
                              TracyTracy
                              Participant

                                The Warrens of Stapenhill

                                 

                                There were so many Warren’s in Stapenhill that it was complicated to work out who was who. I had gone back as far as Samuel Warren marrying Catherine Holland, and this was as far back as my cousin Ian Warren had gone in his research some decades ago as well. The Holland family from Barton under Needwood are particularly interesting, and will be a separate chapter.

                                Stapenhill village by John Harden:

                                Stapenhill

                                 

                                Resuming the research on the Warrens, Samuel Warren 1771-1837 married Catherine Holland 1775-1861 in 1795 and their son Samuel Warren 1800-1882 married Elizabeth Bridge, whose childless brother Benjamin Bridge left the Warren Brothers Boiler Works in Newhall to his nephews, the Warren brothers.

                                Samuel Warren and Catherine Holland marriage licence 1795:

                                Samuel Warren Catherine Holland

                                 

                                Samuel (born 1771) was baptised at Stapenhill St Peter and his parents were William and Anne Warren. There were at least three William and Ann Warrens in town at the time. One of those William’s was born in 1744, which would seem to be the right age to be Samuel’s father, and one was born in 1710, which seemed a little too old. Another William, Guiliamos Warren (Latin was often used in early parish registers) was baptised in Stapenhill in 1729.

                                Stapenhill St Peter:

                                Stapenhill St Peter

                                 

                                William Warren (born 1744) appeared to have been born several months before his parents wedding. William Warren and Ann Insley married 16 July 1744, but the baptism of William in 1744 was 24 February. This seemed unusual ~ children were often born less than nine months after a wedding, but not usually before the wedding! Then I remembered the change from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar in 1752. Prior to 1752, the first day of the year was Lady Day, March 25th, not January 1st. This meant that the birth in February 1744 was actually after the wedding in July 1744. Now it made sense. The first son was named William, and he was born seven months after the wedding.

                                William born in 1744 died intestate in 1822, and his wife Ann made a legal claim to his estate. However he didn’t marry Ann Holland (Ann was Catherines Hollands sister, who married Samuel Warren the year before) until 1796, so this William and Ann were not the parents of Samuel.

                                It seemed likely that William born in 1744 was Samuels brother. William Warren and Ann Insley had at least eight children between 1744 and 1771, and it seems that Samuel was their last child, born when William the elder was 61 and his wife Ann was 47.

                                It seems it wasn’t unusual for the Warren men to marry rather late in life. William Warren’s (born 1710) parents were William Warren and Elizabeth Hatterton. On the marriage licence in 1702/1703 (it appears to say 1703 but is transcribed as 1702), William was a 40 year old bachelor from Stapenhill, which puts his date of birth at 1662. Elizabeth was considerably younger, aged 19.

                                William Warren and Elizabeth Hatterton marriage licence 1703:

                                William Warren 1702

                                 

                                These Warren’s were farmers, and they were literate and able to sign their own names on various documents. This is worth noting, as most made the mark of an X.

                                I found three Warren and Holland marriages. One was Samuel Warren and Catherine Holland in 1795, then William Warren and Ann Holland in 1796. William Warren and Ann Hollands daughter born in 1799 married John Holland in 1824.

                                Elizabeth Hatterton (wife of William Warren who was born circa 1662) was born in Burton upon Trent in 1685. Her parents were Edward Hatterton 1655-1722, and Sara.

                                A page from the 1722 will of Edward Hatterton:

                                Edward Hatterton 1722

                                 

                                The earliest Warren I found records for was William Warren who married Elizabeth Hatterton in 1703. The marriage licence states his age as 40 and that he was from Stapenhill, but none of the Stapenhill parish records online go back as far as 1662.  On other public trees on ancestry websites, a birth record from Suffolk has been chosen, probably because it was the only record to be found online with the right name and date. Once again, I don’t think that is correct, and perhaps one day I’ll find some earlier Stapenhill records to prove that he was born in locally.

                                 

                                Subsequently, I found a list of the 1662 Hearth Tax for Stapenhill. On it were a number of Warrens, three William Warrens including one who was a constable. One of those William Warrens had a son he named William (as they did, hence the number of William Warrens in the tree) the same year as this hearth tax list.

                                But was it the William Warren with 2 chimneys, the one with one chimney who was too poor to pay it, or the one who was a constable?

                                from the list:
                                Will. Warryn 2
                                Richard Warryn 1
                                William Warren Constable
                                These names are not payable by Act:
                                Will. Warryn 1
                                Richard Warren John Watson
                                over seers of the poore and churchwardens

                                The Hearth Tax:

                                via wiki:
                                In England, hearth tax, also known as hearth money, chimney tax, or chimney money, was a tax imposed by Parliament in 1662, to support the Royal Household of King Charles II. Following the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660, Parliament calculated that the Royal Household needed an annual income of £1,200,000. The hearth tax was a supplemental tax to make up the shortfall. It was considered easier to establish the number of hearths than the number of heads, hearths forming a more stationary subject for taxation than people. This form of taxation was new to England, but had precedents abroad. It generated considerable debate, but was supported by the economist Sir William Petty, and carried through the Commons by the influential West Country member Sir Courtenay Pole, 2nd Baronet (whose enemies nicknamed him “Sir Chimney Poll” as a result).  The bill received Royal Assent on 19 May 1662, with the first payment due on 29 September 1662, Michaelmas.
                                One shilling was liable to be paid for every firehearth or stove, in all dwellings, houses, edifices or lodgings, and was payable at Michaelmas, 29 September and on Lady Day, 25 March. The tax thus amounted to two shillings per hearth or stove per year. The original bill contained a practical shortcoming in that it did not distinguish between owners and occupiers and was potentially a major burden on the poor as there were no exemptions. The bill was subsequently amended so that the tax was paid by the occupier. Further amendments introduced a range of exemptions that ensured that a substantial proportion of the poorer people did not have to pay the tax.

                                 

                                Indeed it seems clear that William Warren the elder came from Stapenhill and not Suffolk, and one of the William Warrens paying hearth tax in 1662 was undoubtedly the father of William Warren who married Elizabeth Hatterton.

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