Search Results for 'happens'

Forums Search Search Results for 'happens'

Viewing 20 results - 1 through 20 (of 53 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #7214

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    “Bossy, isn’t she?” muttered Yasmin, not quite out of earshot of Finly. “I haven’t even had a shower yet,” she added, picking up her phone and sandals.

    Yasmin, Youssef and Zara left the maid to her cleaning and walked down towards Xaviers room.   “I’d go and get coffee from the kitchen, but…” Youssef said, turning pleading eyes towards Zara, “Idle might be in there.”

    Smiling, Zara told him not to risk it, she would go.

    “Come in,” Xavier called when Yasmin knocked on the door. “God, what a dream,” he said when they piled in to his room.  “It was awful. I was dreaming that Idle was threading an enormous long needle with baler twine saying she was going to sew us all together in a tailored story cut in a cloth of continuity.”  He rubbed his eyes and then shook his head, trying to erase the image in his mind.  “What are you two up so early for?”

    Zara’s gone to get the coffee,” Youssef told him, likewise trying to shake off the image of Idle that Xavier had conjured up. “We’re going to have a couple of hours on the game before the cart race ~ or the dust storm, whichever happens first I guess. There are some wierd looking vans and campers and oddballs milling around outside already.”

    Zara pushed the door open with her shoulder, four mugs in her hands.  “You should see the wierdos outside, going to be a great photo opportunity out there later.”

    “Come on then,” said Xavier, “The game will get that awful dream out of my head.  Let’s go!”

    “You’re supposed to be the leader, you start the game,” Yasmin said to Zara. Zara rolled her eyes good naturedly and opened the game. “Let’s ask for some clues first then. I still don’t know why I’m the so called leader when you,” she looked pointedly as Xavier and Youssef, “Know much more about games than I do. Ok here goes:”

    “The riddle “In the quietest place, the loudest secrets are kept” is a clue to help the group find the first missing page of the book “The Lost Pages of Creativity,” which is an integral part of the group quest. The riddle suggests that the missing page is hidden in a quiet place where secrets are kept, meaning that it’s likely to be somewhere in the hidden library underground the Flying Fish Inn where the group is currently situated.”

    “Is there a cellar here do you think?” Zara mused. “Imagine finding a real underground library!” The idea of a grand all encompassing library had first been suggested to Zara many years ago in a series of old books by a channeler, and many a time she had imagined visiting it. The idea of leaving paper records and books for future generations had always appealed to her. She often thought of the old sepia portrait photographs of her ancestors, still intact after a hundred years ~ and yet her own photos taken ten years ago had been lost in a computer hard drive incident. What would the current generation leave for future anthropologists? Piles of plastic unreadable gadgets, she suspected.

    Youssef can ask Idle later,” Xavier said with a cheeky grin. “Maybe she’ll take him down there.” Youssef snorted, and Yasmin said “Hey! Don’t you start snorting too! Right then, Zara, so we find the cellar in the game then and go down and find the library? Then what?”

    “The phrase “quietest place” can refer to a secluded spot or a place with minimal noise, which could be a hint at a specific location within the library. The phrase “loudest secrets” implies that there is something important to be discovered, but it’s hidden in plain sight.”

    Hidden in plain sight reminded Yasmin of the parcel under her mattress, but she thrust it from her mind and focused on the game. She made up her mind to discuss it with everyone later, including the whacky suppositions that Zara had come up with. They couldn’t possibly confront Idle with it, they had absolutely no proof. I mean, you can’t go round saying to people, hey, that’s your abandoned child over there maybe. But they could include Xavier and Youssef in the mystery.

    “The riddle is relevant to the game of quirks because it challenges the group to think creatively and work together to solve the puzzle. This requires them to communicate effectively and use their problem-solving skills to interpret the clues and find the missing page. It’s an opportunity to demonstrate their individual strengths and also learn from each other in the process.”

    “Work together, communicate effectively” Yasmin repeated, as if to underline her resolution to discuss the parcel and Sister Finli a.k.a. Liana with the boys and Zara later. “A problem shared is a problem hopelessly convoluted, probably.”

    The others looked up and said “What?” in unison, and Yasmin snorted nervously and said “Never mind, tell you later.”

    #7173

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    The morning of the lager and cart race dawned bright and clear.  The camping ground was full to overflowing with tents and camper vans, with several parked up outside the Flying Fish Inn. Zara overheard Finly complaining to Mater about all the extra work with all and sundry traipsing in and out using the toilets, and Bert muttering about where was all the extra water supposed to come from and what if the well ran dry, and was it all really worth it, and Zara saw him scowl when Idle told him to lighten up and enjoy it.  “Hah! Enjoy it? Nothing good ever happens when a dust storm comes for the cart race,” he said pointedly to Idle, ” And damn near everyone asking about the old mines, I tell you, nothing good’s gonna come from a cart race in a dust storm, the mayor shoulda cancelled it.”  Bert slammed the porch door as he stomped off outside, scowling at Zara on the way past.

    Zara watched him go with a quizzical expression. What was going on here?  Idle had told her about her affair with Howard some forty years ago, and how she’d had to disappear as soon as it became obvious that she was pregnant.  Zara had sympathized and said what an ordeal it must have been, but Idle had laughed and said no not really, she’d had a lovely time in Fiji and had found a nice place to leave the baby.  Then Howard had disappeared down the mines, and what was the story about Idle’s brother leaving mysteriously? Idle had been vague about that part, preferring to change the topic to Youssef.  Was the Howard story why Bert was so reluctant for anyone to go down the mines? What on earth was going on?

    And how had Yasmin’s parcel ended up in Xavier’s room?  Xavi had soon noticed that he’d picked it up by mistake and returned it to Yasmin, but how had it ended up on the table on the verandah? It was perplexing, and made Yasmin disinclined to deliver it to Mater until she could fathom what had happened.  She had tucked in under her mattress until she was sure what to do.

    But that wasn’t the only thing that had piqued Zara’s curiosity.  When Idle had said she’d had the baby in Fiji, and found a nice place to leave it, Zara couldn’t help but think of the orphanage where Yasmin was working.  But no, surely that would be too much of a coincidence, and anyway, a 40 year old orphan wouldn’t still be there.   But what about that woman in the BMW that Yasmin felt sure she recognized?   No, surely it was all too pat. But then, what was that woman in the dark glasses doing in Betsy’s shop?  Betsy was Howards wife. Idle had mentioned her when she told her story over the second bottle of wine.

    Should she divulge Idle’s secrets to Yasmin and quiz her on the woman in dark glasses? Zara decided there would be no harm in it, after all, they would be leaving soon after the cart race, and what would it matter.  She fetched two cups of coffee from the kitchen and took them to Yasmin’s room and knocked gently on the door.

    “Are you awake?” she called softly.

    “Yeah, come in Zara, I’ve been awake for ages,” Yasmin replied.

    Zara put the coffee cups on the bedside table and sat on the side of Yasmins bed. “There’s something going on here, I have to tell you something. But first, have you worked out who that woman in the BMW is?”

    Yasmin looked startled and said “How did you know?  Yes I have. It’s Sister Finli from the orphanage, I’m sure of it.  But why has she followed me here? And in disguise! It’s just creepy!”

    “Aha!” Zara couldn’t suppress a rather triumphant smile. “I thought it was just a wacky idea, but listen to this, Idle told me something the other night when we sat up drinking wine.”  As she told Idle’s story, Yasmin’s eyes widened and she put a hand over her open mouth.

    “Could it be…?”

    “Yes but why in disguise? What is she up to? What should we do, should we warn Idle?”  Zara had warmed to Idle, and if there were any sides to be taken in the matter, she felt more for Idle than that unpleasant woman from the orphanage who was so disturbing to Yasmin.

    “Oh I don’t know, maybe we should keep out of it!” Yasmin said. “That parcel though!  What am I going to do about that parcel!”

    Zara frowned. “Well, you have three options, Yas.  Open it and read it… don’t look so horrified!  Or deliver it as promised..”

    “We’ll never know what it said though if we do that,” Yasmin was looking more relaxed now.

    “Exactly, and I’m just too curious now.”

    “And the third option?”

    Ignoring the question, Zara asked where the parcel was.  Yasmin grinned wickedly but a knock at the door interrupted her intention to retrieve the parcel from under the mattress.   It was Youssef, who asked if he could come in.

    “Shall we tell him?” Zara whispered, as Yasmin called out “Of course! Is Idle after you again? Quick, you can hide under my bed!”

    “Not yet” Yasmin whispered back. “I need to think.”

    #6453

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    Each group of people sharing the jeeps spent some time cleaning the jeeps from the sand, outside and inside. While cleaning the hood, Youssef noted that the storm had cleaned the eagles droppings. Soon, the young intern told them, avoiding their eyes, that the boss needed her to plan the shooting with the Lama. She said Kyle would take her place.

    “Phew, the yak I shared the yurt with yesterday smelled better,” he said to the guys when he arrived.

    Soon enough, Miss Tartiflate was going from jeep to jeep, her fiery hair half tied in a bun on top of her head, hurrying people to move faster as they needed to catch the shaman before he got away again. She carried her orange backpack at all time, as if she feared someone would steal its content. Rumour had it that it was THE NOTEBOOK where she wrote the blog entries in advance.

    “No need to waste more time! We’ll have breakfast at the Oasis!” she shouted as she walked toward Youssef’s jeep. When she spotted him, she left her right index finger as if she just remembered something and turned the other way.

    “Dunno what you did to her, but it seems Miss Yeti is avoiding you,” said Kyle with a wry smile.

    Youssef grunted. Yeti was the nickname given to Miss Tartiflate by one of her former lover during a trip to Himalaya. First an affectionate nickname based on her first name, Henrietty, it soon started to spread among the production team when the love affair turned sour. It sticked and became widespread in the milieu. Everybody knew, but nobody ever dared say it to her face.

    Youssef knew it wouldn’t last. He had heard that there was wifi at the oasis. He took a snack in his own backpack to quiet his stomach.

    It took them two hours to arrive as sand dunes had moved on the trail during the storm. Kyle had talked most of the time, boring them to death with detailed accounts of his life back in Boston. He didn’t seem to notice that nobody cared about his love rejection stories or his tips to talk to women.

    They parked outside the oasis among buses and vans. Kyle was following Youssef everywhere as if they were friends. Despite his unending flow of words, the guy managed to be funny.

    Miss Tartiflate seemed unusually nervous, pulling on a strand of her orange hair and pushing back her glasses up her nose every two minutes. She was bossing everyone around to take the cameras and the lighting gear to the market where the shaman was apparently performing a rain dance. She didn’t want to miss it. When everybody was ready, she came right to Youssef. When she pushed back her glasses on her nose, he noticed her fingers were the colour of her hair. Her mouth was twitching nervously. She told him to find the wifi and restore THE BLOG or he could find another job.

    “Phew! said Kyle. I don’t want to be near you when that happens.” He waved and left and joined the rest of the team.

    Youssef smiled, happy to be alone at last, he took his backpack containing his laptop and his phone and followed everyone to the market in the luscious oasis.

    At the center, near the lake, a crowd of tourists was gathered around a man wearing a colorful attire. Half his teeth and one eye were missing. The one that was left rolled furiously in his socket at the sound of a drum. He danced and jumped around like a monkey, and each of his movements were punctuated by the bells attached to the hem of his costume.

    Youssef was glad he was not part of the shooting team, they looked miserable as they assembled the gears under a deluge of orders. As he walked toward the market, the scents of spicy food made his stomach growled. The vendors were looking at the crowd and exchanging comments and laughs. They were certainly waiting for the performance to end and the tourists to flood the place in search of trinkets and spices. Youssef spotted a food stall tucked away on the edge. It seemed too shabby to interest anyone, which was perfect for him.

    The taciturn vendor, who looked caucasian, wore a yellow jacket and a bonnet oddly reminiscent of a llama’s scalp and ears. The dish he was preparing made Youssef drool.

    “What’s that?” he asked.

    “This is Lorgh Drülp, said the vendor. Ancient recipe from the silk road. Very rare. Very tasty.”

    He smiled when Youssef ordered a full plate with a side of tsampa. He told him to sit and wait on a stool beside an old and wobbly table.

    #6451

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    The progress on the quest in the Land of the Quirks was too tantalizing; Xavier made himself a quick sandwich and jumped back on it during his lunch break.

    The jungle had an oppressing quality… Maybe it has to do with the shrieks of the apes tearing the silence apart.   

    It was time for a slight adjustment of his avatar.

    Xavimunk opened his bag of tricks, something that the wise owl had suggested he looked into. Few items from the AIorium Emporium had been supplied. They tended to shift and disappear if you didn’t focus, but his intention was set on the task at hand. At the bottom of the bag, there was a small vial with a golden liquid with a tag written in ornate handwriting “MJ remix: for when words elude and shapes confuse at your own peril”.

    He gulped the potion without thinking too much. He felt himself shrink, and his arms elongate a little. There, he thought. Imp-munk’s more suited to the mission. Hope the effects will be temporary…

    As Xavier mustered the courage to enter through the front gate, monkeys started to become silent. He couldn’t say if it was an ominous sign, or maybe an effect of his adaptation. The temple’s light inside was gorgeous, but nothing seemed to be there.

    He gestured around, to make the menu appear. He looked again at the instructions on his screen overlay:

    As for possible characters to engage, you may come across a sly fox who claims to know the location of the fruit but will only reveal it in exchange for a favor, or a brave adventurer who has been searching for the Golden Banana for years and may be willing to team up with you.

    Suddenly a loud monkey honking noise came from outside, distracting him.

    What the?… Had to be one of Zara’s remixes. He saw the three dots bleeping on the screen.

    Here’s the Banana bus, hope it helps! Envoy! bugger Enjoy!

    Yep… With the distinct typo-heavy accent, definitely Zara’s style. Strange idea that AL designated her as the leader… He’d have to roll with it.

    Suddenly, as the Banana bus parked in front of the Temple, a horde of Italien speaking tourists started to flock in and snap pictures around. The monkeys didn’t know what to do and seemed to build growing and noisy interest in their assortiment of colorful shoes, flip-flops, boots and all.

     

    Focus, thought Xavimunk… What did the wise owl say? Look for a guide…
    Only the huge colorful bus seemed to take the space now… But wait… what if?

    He walked to the parking spot under the shades of the huge banyan tree next to the temple’s entrance, under which the bus driver had parked it. The driver was still there, napping under a newspaper, his legs on the wheel.
    “Whatcha lookin’ at?” he said chewing his gum loudly. “Never seen a fox drive a banana bus before?”
    Xavier smiled. “Any chance you can guide me to the location of the Golden Banana?”
    “For a price… maybe.” The fox had jumped closely and was considering the strange avatar from head to toe.
    “Ain’t no usual stuff that got you into this? Got any left? That would be a nice price.”
    “As it happens…” Xavier smiled.

    The quest seemed back on track. Xavier looked at the time. Blimmey! already late again. And I promised Brytta to get some Chinese snacks for dinner.

    #6390
    EricEric
    Keymaster

      Trying to get some interesting unlikely, absurd associations or quests… Still some way to go!

      2 impossible associations

      1. The creation of a time machine using only household objects such as a toaster and a stapler.
      2. The discovery of a parallel universe accessible through a secret passageway hidden in a public park’s playground equipment.

      give an association of 3 or 4 words with each words being statistically probable to occur in every day conversation but with statistical probability of occurring together of less than 10^-57.

        1. “Giant robotic giraffe farming”
        2. “Vintage cars restoration using only expired food”
        3. “Archaeological board game design with only smells”
        4. “Artificial intelligence calligraphic body language assisted therapy”

      All the words in these associations are commonly used in everyday conversation, but the associations themselves are relatively unexpected, absurd, and may surprise people. They are all grounded in everyday happenstances but are less modern tech-oriented and the concepts they describe are related to diverse interests that may not be related to technology trend and are quite unexpected and bizarre..

      #6310

      In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

      Olek wished he wasn’t so easy to find.

      The old caretaker of the shrine of Saint Edigna couldn’t have chosen a less conspicuous place to live in this warring time. People were flocking from afar, more and more each day drawn about by the ancient place, and the sacred oil bleeding linden tree which had suddenly and quite miraculously resumed its flow in the midst of the ambiant chaos started by the war.

      It wasn’t always like this. A few months ago, the linden tree was just an old linden tree that may or may not have been miraculous, if the old wifes’ tales were to be trusted. Mankind’s memory is a flimsy thing as it occurs, and while for many generations before, speculations had abounded about whether or not the Saint was real, had such or such filiation, et cætera— it now seemed the old tales that were passed down from mother to children had managed to keep alive a knowledge that had but all dried up on old flaky parchments scribbled in pale inks that kept eluding old scholars’ exegesis.

      Olek himself wasn’t a learned man. A man of faith, he was a little — more by upbringing than by choice, and by slow attunement to nature it would seem. Over the years, he’d be servicing the country in many ways, and after a rather long carrier started at young age, he had finally managed to retire in this place.
      He thought he’d be left alone, to care for a little garden patch, checking in from times to times on the old grumpy neighbours, but alas, the Holy Nation’s destiny still had something in store for him.

      The latest pilgrim family had brought a message. It was another push to action. “Plan acceleration needs to happen”.
      “What clucking plan again?” was his first reaction. Bad temper had a way of flaring right up his vents as in old times. When he’d calmed down, he wondered if he had ever seen a call for slowing down in his life. People were always so busy mindlessly carting around, bumping into the darkness.

      He smiled thinking of something his old man used to say. He’d never planned for a thing in his life, and was always very carefree it was often scary. His mantra was “People are always getting prepared for the wrong things. They never can prepare for the unexpected, and surely enough, only the unexpected happens.”
      That sort of chaos paddling approach to life didn’t seem to bring him any sort of extraordinary success, and while he had the same mixed bag of ups and downs as the rest of his compatriots, just so much less did he suffer for the same result! Olek guessed that was the whole point, even if he really couldn’t accept it until much later in life.

      Maybe Olek would start playing by his father’s book. Until he could find a way to get lost behind enemy lines.

      #6303
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        The Hollands of Barton under Needwood

         

        Samuel Warren of Stapenhill married Catherine Holland of Barton under Needwood in 1795.

        I joined a Barton under Needwood History group and found an incredible amount of information on the Holland family, but first I wanted to make absolutely sure that our Catherine Holland was one of them as there were also Hollands in Newhall. Not only that, on the marriage licence it says that Catherine Holland was from Bretby Park Gate, Stapenhill.

        Then I noticed that one of the witnesses on Samuel’s brother Williams marriage to Ann Holland in 1796 was John Hair. Hannah Hair was the wife of Thomas Holland, and they were the Barton under Needwood parents of Catherine. Catherine was born in 1775, and Ann was born in 1767.

        The 1851 census clinched it: Catherine Warren 74 years old, widow and formerly a farmers wife, was living in the household of her son John Warren, and her place of birth is listed as Barton under Needwood. In 1841 Catherine was a 64 year old widow, her husband Samuel having died in 1837, and she was living with her son Samuel, a farmer. The 1841 census did not list place of birth, however. Catherine died on 31 March 1861 and does not appear on the 1861 census.

        Once I had established that our Catherine Holland was from Barton under Needwood, I had another look at the information available on the Barton under Needwood History group, compiled by local historian Steve Gardner.

        Catherine’s parents were Thomas Holland 1737-1828 and Hannah Hair 1739-1822.

        Steve Gardner had posted a long list of the dates, marriages and children of the Holland family. The earliest entries in parish registers were Thomae Holland 1562-1626 and his wife Eunica Edwardes 1565-1632. They married on 10th July 1582. They were born, married and died in Barton under Needwood. They were direct ancestors of Catherine Holland, and as such my direct ancestors too.

        The known history of the Holland family in Barton under Needwood goes back to Richard De Holland. (Thanks once again to Steve Gardner of the Barton under Needwood History group for this information.)

        “Richard de Holland was the first member of the Holland family to become resident in Barton under Needwood (in about 1312) having been granted lands by the Earl of Lancaster (for whom Richard served as Stud and Stock Keeper of the Peak District) The Holland family stemmed from Upholland in Lancashire and had many family connections working for the Earl of Lancaster, who was one of the biggest Barons in England. Lancaster had his own army and lived at Tutbury Castle, from where he ruled over most of the Midlands area. The Earl of Lancaster was one of the main players in the ‘Barons Rebellion’ and the ensuing Battle of Burton Bridge in 1322. Richard de Holland was very much involved in the proceedings which had so angered Englands King. Holland narrowly escaped with his life, unlike the Earl who was executed.
        From the arrival of that first Holland family member, the Hollands were a mainstay family in the community, and were in Barton under Needwood for over 600 years.”

        Continuing with various items of information regarding the Hollands, thanks to Steve Gardner’s Barton under Needwood history pages:

        “PART 6 (Final Part)
        Some mentions of The Manor of Barton in the Ancient Staffordshire Rolls:
        1330. A Grant was made to Herbert de Ferrars, at le Newland in the Manor of Barton.
        1378. The Inquisitio bonorum – Johannis Holand — an interesting Inventory of his goods and their value and his debts.
        1380. View of Frankpledge ; the Jury found that Richard Holland was feloniously murdered by his wife Joan and Thomas Graunger, who fled. The goods of the deceased were valued at iiij/. iijj. xid. ; one-third went to the dead man, one-third to his son, one- third to the Lord for the wife’s share. Compare 1 H. V. Indictments. (1413.)
        That Thomas Graunger of Barton smyth and Joan the wife of Richard de Holond of Barton on the Feast of St. John the Baptist 10 H. II. (1387) had traitorously killed and murdered at night, at Barton, Richard, the husband of the said Joan. (m. 22.)
        The names of various members of the Holland family appear constantly among the listed Jurors on the manorial records printed below : —
        1539. Richard Holland and Richard Holland the younger are on the Muster Roll of Barton
        1583. Thomas Holland and Unica his wife are living at Barton.
        1663-4. Visitations. — Barton under Needword. Disclaimers. William Holland, Senior, William Holland, Junior.
        1609. Richard Holland, Clerk and Alice, his wife.
        1663-4. Disclaimers at the Visitation. William Holland, Senior, William Holland, Junior.”

        I was able to find considerably more information on the Hollands in the book “Some Records of the Holland Family (The Hollands of Barton under Needwood, Staffordshire, and the Hollands in History)” by William Richard Holland. Luckily the full text of this book can be found online.

        William Richard Holland (Died 1915) An early local Historian and author of the book:

        William Richard Holland

         

        ‘Holland House’ taken from the Gardens (sadly demolished in the early 60’s):

        Holland House

         

        Excerpt from the book:

        “The charter, dated 1314, granting Richard rights and privileges in Needwood Forest, reads as follows:

        “Thomas Earl of Lancaster and Leicester, high-steward of England, to whom all these present shall come, greeting: Know ye, that we have given, &c., to Richard Holland of Barton, and his heirs, housboot, heyboot, and fireboot, and common of pasture, in our forest of Needwood, for all his beasts, as well in places fenced as lying open, with 40 hogs, quit of pawnage in our said forest at all times in the year (except hogs only in fence month). All which premises we will warrant, &c. to the said Richard and his heirs against all people for ever”

        “The terms “housboot” “heyboot” and “fireboot” meant that Richard and his heirs were to have the privilege of taking from the Forest, wood needed for house repair and building, hedging material for the repairing of fences, and what was needful for purposes of fuel.”

        Further excerpts from the book:

        “It may here be mentioned that during the renovation of Barton Church, when the stone pillars were being stripped of the plaster which covered them, “William Holland 1617” was found roughly carved on a pillar near to the belfry gallery, obviously the work of a not too devout member of the family, who, seated in the gallery of that time, occupied himself thus during the service. The inscription can still be seen.”

        “The earliest mention of a Holland of Upholland occurs in the reign of John in a Final Concord, made at the Lancashire Assizes, dated November 5th, 1202, in which Uchtred de Chryche, who seems to have had some right in the manor of Upholland, releases his right in fourteen oxgangs* of land to Matthew de Holland, in consideration of the sum of six marks of silver. Thus was planted the Holland Tree, all the early information of which is found in The Victoria County History of Lancaster.

        As time went on, the family acquired more land, and with this, increased position. Thus, in the reign of Edward I, a Robert de Holland, son of Thurstan, son of Robert, became possessed of the manor of Orrell adjoining Upholland and of the lordship of Hale in the parish of Childwall, and, through marriage with Elizabeth de Samlesbury (co-heiress of Sir Wm. de Samlesbury of Samlesbury, Hall, near to Preston), of the moiety of that manor….

        * An oxgang signified the amount of land that could be ploughed by one ox in one day”

        “This Robert de Holland, son of Thurstan, received Knighthood in the reign of Edward I, as did also his brother William, ancestor of that branch of the family which later migrated to Cheshire. Belonging to this branch are such noteworthy personages as Mrs. Gaskell, the talented authoress, her mother being a Holland of this branch, Sir Henry Holland, Physician to Queen Victoria, and his two sons, the first Viscount Knutsford, and Canon Francis Holland ; Sir Henry’s grandson (the present Lord Knutsford), Canon Scott Holland, etc. Captain Frederick Holland, R.N., late of Ashbourne Hall, Derbyshire, may also be mentioned here.*”

        Thanks to the Barton under Needwood history group for the following:

        WALES END FARM:
        In 1509 it was owned and occupied by Mr Johannes Holland De Wallass end who was a well to do Yeoman Farmer (the origin of the areas name – Wales End).  Part of the building dates to 1490 making it probably the oldest building still standing in the Village:

        Wales End Farm

         

        I found records for all of the Holland’s listed on the Barton under Needwood History group and added them to my ancestry tree. The earliest will I found was for Eunica Edwardes, then Eunica Holland, who died in 1632.

        A page from the 1632 will and inventory of Eunica (Unice) Holland:

        Unice Holland

         

        I’d been reading about “pedigree collapse” just before I found out her maiden name of Edwardes. Edwards is my own maiden name.

        “In genealogy, pedigree collapse describes how reproduction between two individuals who knowingly or unknowingly share an ancestor causes the family tree of their offspring to be smaller than it would otherwise be.
        Without pedigree collapse, a person’s ancestor tree is a binary tree, formed by the person, the parents, grandparents, and so on. However, the number of individuals in such a tree grows exponentially and will eventually become impossibly high. For example, a single individual alive today would, over 30 generations going back to the High Middle Ages, have roughly a billion ancestors, more than the total world population at the time. This apparent paradox occurs because the individuals in the binary tree are not distinct: instead, a single individual may occupy multiple places in the binary tree. This typically happens when the parents of an ancestor are cousins (sometimes unbeknownst to themselves). For example, the offspring of two first cousins has at most only six great-grandparents instead of the normal eight. This reduction in the number of ancestors is pedigree collapse. It collapses the binary tree into a directed acyclic graph with two different, directed paths starting from the ancestor who in the binary tree would occupy two places.” via wikipedia

        There is nothing to suggest, however, that Eunica’s family were related to my fathers family, and the only evidence so far in my tree of pedigree collapse are the marriages of Orgill cousins, where two sets of grandparents are repeated.

        A list of Holland ancestors:

        Catherine Holland 1775-1861
        her parents:
        Thomas Holland 1737-1828   Hannah Hair 1739-1832
        Thomas’s parents:
        William Holland 1696-1756   Susannah Whiteing 1715-1752
        William’s parents:
        William Holland 1665-    Elizabeth Higgs 1675-1720
        William’s parents:
        Thomas Holland 1634-1681   Katherine Owen 1634-1728
        Thomas’s parents:
        Thomas Holland 1606-1680   Margaret Belcher 1608-1664
        Thomas’s parents:
        Thomas Holland 1562-1626   Eunice Edwardes 1565- 1632

        #6261
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          From Tanganyika with Love

          continued

          With thanks to Mike Rushby.

          Mchewe Estate. 11th July 1931.

          Dearest Family,

          You say that you would like to know more about our neighbours. Well there is
          not much to tell. Kath Wood is very good about coming over to see me. I admire her
          very much because she is so capable as well as being attractive. She speaks very
          fluent Ki-Swahili and I envy her the way she can carry on a long conversation with the
          natives. I am very slow in learning the language possibly because Lamek and the
          houseboy both speak basic English.

          I have very little to do with the Africans apart from the house servants, but I do
          run a sort of clinic for the wives and children of our employees. The children suffer chiefly
          from sore eyes and worms, and the older ones often have bad ulcers on their legs. All
          farmers keep a stock of drugs and bandages.

          George also does a bit of surgery and last month sewed up the sole of the foot
          of a boy who had trodden on the blade of a panga, a sort of sword the Africans use for
          hacking down bush. He made an excellent job of it. George tells me that the Africans
          have wonderful powers of recuperation. Once in his bachelor days, one of his men was
          disembowelled by an elephant. George washed his “guts” in a weak solution of
          pot.permang, put them back in the cavity and sewed up the torn flesh and he
          recovered.

          But to get back to the neighbours. We see less of Hicky Wood than of Kath.
          Hicky can be charming but is often moody as I believe Irishmen often are.
          Major Jones is now at home on his shamba, which he leaves from time to time
          for temporary jobs on the district roads. He walks across fairly regularly and we are
          always glad to see him for he is a great bearer of news. In this part of Africa there is no
          knocking or ringing of doorbells. Front doors are always left open and visitors always
          welcome. When a visitor approaches a house he shouts “Hodi”, and the owner of the
          house yells “Karibu”, which I believe means “Come near” or approach, and tea is
          produced in a matter of minutes no matter what hour of the day it is.
          The road that passes all our farms is the only road to the Gold Diggings and
          diggers often drop in on the Woods and Major Jones and bring news of the Goldfields.
          This news is sometimes about gold but quite often about whose wife is living with
          whom. This is a great country for gossip.

          Major Jones now has his brother Llewyllen living with him. I drove across with
          George to be introduced to him. Llewyllen’s health is poor and he looks much older than
          his years and very like the portrait of Trader Horn. He has the same emaciated features,
          burning eyes and long beard. He is proud of his Welsh tenor voice and often bursts into
          song.

          Both brothers are excellent conversationalists and George enjoys walking over
          sometimes on a Sunday for a bit of masculine company. The other day when George
          walked across to visit the Joneses, he found both brothers in the shamba and Llew in a
          great rage. They had been stooping to inspect a water furrow when Llew backed into a
          hornets nest. One furious hornet stung him on the seat and another on the back of his
          neck. Llew leapt forward and somehow his false teeth shot out into the furrow and were
          carried along by the water. When George arrived Llew had retrieved his teeth but
          George swears that, in the commotion, the heavy leather leggings, which Llew always
          wears, had swivelled around on his thin legs and were calves to the front.
          George has heard that Major Jones is to sell pert of his land to his Swedish brother-in-law, Max Coster, so we will soon have another couple in the neighbourhood.

          I’ve had a bit of a pantomime here on the farm. On the day we went to Tukuyu,
          all our washing was stolen from the clothes line and also our new charcoal iron. George
          reported the matter to the police and they sent out a plain clothes policeman. He wears
          the long white Arab gown called a Kanzu much in vogue here amongst the African elite
          but, alas for secrecy, huge black police boots protrude from beneath the Kanzu and, to
          add to this revealing clue, the askari springs to attention and salutes each time I pass by.
          Not much hope of finding out the identity of the thief I fear.

          George’s furrow was entirely successful and we now have water running behind
          the kitchen. Our drinking water we get from a lovely little spring on the farm. We boil and
          filter it for safety’s sake. I don’t think that is necessary. The furrow water is used for
          washing pots and pans and for bath water.

          Lots of love,
          Eleanor

          Mchewe Estate. 8th. August 1931

          Dearest Family,

          I think it is about time I told you that we are going to have a baby. We are both
          thrilled about it. I have not seen a Doctor but feel very well and you are not to worry. I
          looked it up in my handbook for wives and reckon that the baby is due about February
          8th. next year.

          The announcement came from George, not me! I had been feeling queasy for
          days and was waiting for the right moment to tell George. You know. Soft lights and
          music etc. However when I was listlessly poking my food around one lunch time
          George enquired calmly, “When are you going to tell me about the baby?” Not at all
          according to the book! The problem is where to have the baby. February is a very wet
          month and the nearest Doctor is over 50 miles away at Tukuyu. I cannot go to stay at
          Tukuyu because there is no European accommodation at the hospital, no hotel and no
          friend with whom I could stay.

          George thinks I should go South to you but Capetown is so very far away and I
          love my little home here. Also George says he could not come all the way down with
          me as he simply must stay here and get the farm on its feet. He would drive me as far
          as the railway in Northern Rhodesia. It is a difficult decision to take. Write and tell me what
          you think.

          The days tick by quietly here. The servants are very willing but have to be
          supervised and even then a crisis can occur. Last Saturday I was feeling squeamish and
          decided not to have lunch. I lay reading on the couch whilst George sat down to a
          solitary curry lunch. Suddenly he gave an exclamation and pushed back his chair. I
          jumped up to see what was wrong and there, on his plate, gleaming in the curry gravy
          were small bits of broken glass. I hurried to the kitchen to confront Lamek with the plate.
          He explained that he had dropped the new and expensive bottle of curry powder on
          the brick floor of the kitchen. He did not tell me as he thought I would make a “shauri” so
          he simply scooped up the curry powder, removed the larger pieces of glass and used
          part of the powder for seasoning the lunch.

          The weather is getting warmer now. It was very cold in June and July and we had
          fires in the daytime as well as at night. Now that much of the land has been cleared we
          are able to go for pleasant walks in the weekends. My favourite spot is a waterfall on the
          Mchewe River just on the boundary of our land. There is a delightful little pool below the
          waterfall and one day George intends to stock it with trout.

          Now that there are more Europeans around to buy meat the natives find it worth
          their while to kill an occasional beast. Every now and again a native arrives with a large
          bowl of freshly killed beef for sale. One has no way of knowing whether the animal was
          healthy and the meat is often still warm and very bloody. I hated handling it at first but am
          becoming accustomed to it now and have even started a brine tub. There is no other
          way of keeping meat here and it can only be kept in its raw state for a few hours before
          going bad. One of the delicacies is the hump which all African cattle have. When corned
          it is like the best brisket.

          See what a housewife I am becoming.
          With much love,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. Sept.6th. 1931

          Dearest Family,

          I have grown to love the life here and am sad to think I shall be leaving
          Tanganyika soon for several months. Yes I am coming down to have the baby in the
          bosom of the family. George thinks it best and so does the doctor. I didn’t mention it
          before but I have never recovered fully from the effects of that bad bout of malaria and
          so I have been persuaded to leave George and our home and go to the Cape, in the
          hope that I shall come back here as fit as when I first arrived in the country plus a really
          healthy and bouncing baby. I am torn two ways, I long to see you all – but how I would
          love to stay on here.

          George will drive me down to Northern Rhodesia in early October to catch a
          South bound train. I’ll telegraph the date of departure when I know it myself. The road is
          very, very bad and the car has been giving a good deal of trouble so, though the baby
          is not due until early February, George thinks it best to get the journey over soon as
          possible, for the rains break in November and the the roads will then be impassable. It
          may take us five or six days to reach Broken Hill as we will take it slowly. I am looking
          forward to the drive through new country and to camping out at night.
          Our days pass quietly by. George is out on the shamba most of the day. He
          goes out before breakfast on weekdays and spends most of the day working with the
          men – not only supervising but actually working with his hands and beating the labourers
          at their own jobs. He comes to the house for meals and tea breaks. I potter around the
          house and garden, sew, mend and read. Lamek continues to be a treasure. he turns out
          some surprising dishes. One of his specialities is stuffed chicken. He carefully skins the
          chicken removing all bones. He then minces all the chicken meat and adds minced onion
          and potatoes. He then stuffs the chicken skin with the minced meat and carefully sews it
          together again. The resulting dish is very filling because the boned chicken is twice the
          size of a normal one. It lies on its back as round as a football with bloated legs in the air.
          Rather repulsive to look at but Lamek is most proud of his accomplishment.
          The other day he produced another of his masterpieces – a cooked tortoise. It
          was served on a dish covered with parsley and crouched there sans shell but, only too
          obviously, a tortoise. I took one look and fled with heaving diaphragm, but George said
          it tasted quite good. He tells me that he has had queerer dishes produced by former
          cooks. He says that once in his hunting days his cook served up a skinned baby
          monkey with its hands folded on its breast. He says it would take a cannibal to eat that
          dish.

          And now for something sad. Poor old Llew died quite suddenly and it was a sad
          shock to this tiny community. We went across to the funeral and it was a very simple and
          dignified affair. Llew was buried on Joni’s farm in a grave dug by the farm boys. The
          body was wrapped in a blanket and bound to some boards and lowered into the
          ground. There was no service. The men just said “Good-bye Llew.” and “Sleep well
          Llew”, and things like that. Then Joni and his brother-in-law Max, and George shovelled
          soil over the body after which the grave was filled in by Joni’s shamba boys. It was a
          lovely bright afternoon and I thought how simple and sensible a funeral it was.
          I hope you will be glad to have me home. I bet Dad will be holding thumbs that
          the baby will be a girl.

          Very much love,
          Eleanor.

          Note
          “There are no letters to my family during the period of Sept. 1931 to June 1932
          because during these months I was living with my parents and sister in a suburb of
          Cape Town. I had hoped to return to Tanganyika by air with my baby soon after her
          birth in Feb.1932 but the doctor would not permit this.

          A month before my baby was born, a company called Imperial Airways, had
          started the first passenger service between South Africa and England. One of the night
          stops was at Mbeya near my husband’s coffee farm, and it was my intention to take the
          train to Broken Hill in Northern Rhodesia and to fly from there to Mbeya with my month
          old baby. In those days however, commercial flying was still a novelty and the doctor
          was not sure that flying at a high altitude might not have an adverse effect upon a young
          baby.

          He strongly advised me to wait until the baby was four months old and I did this
          though the long wait was very trying to my husband alone on our farm in Tanganyika,
          and to me, cherished though I was in my old home.

          My story, covering those nine long months is soon told. My husband drove me
          down from Mbeya to Broken Hill in NorthernRhodesia. The journey was tedious as the
          weather was very hot and dry and the road sandy and rutted, very different from the
          Great North road as it is today. The wooden wheel spokes of the car became so dry
          that they rattled and George had to bind wet rags around them. We had several
          punctures and with one thing and another I was lucky to catch the train.
          My parents were at Cape Town station to welcome me and I stayed
          comfortably with them, living very quietly, until my baby was born. She arrived exactly
          on the appointed day, Feb.8th.

          I wrote to my husband “Our Charmian Ann is a darling baby. She is very fair and
          rather pale and has the most exquisite hands, with long tapering fingers. Daddy
          absolutely dotes on her and so would you, if you were here. I can’t bear to think that you
          are so terribly far away. Although Ann was born exactly on the day, I was taken quite by
          surprise. It was awfully hot on the night before, and before going to bed I had a fancy for
          some water melon. The result was that when I woke in the early morning with labour
          pains and vomiting I thought it was just an attack of indigestion due to eating too much
          melon. The result was that I did not wake Marjorie until the pains were pretty frequent.
          She called our next door neighbour who, in his pyjamas, drove me to the nursing home
          at breakneck speed. The Matron was very peeved that I had left things so late but all
          went well and by nine o’clock, Mother, positively twittering with delight, was allowed to
          see me and her first granddaughter . She told me that poor Dad was in such a state of
          nerves that he was sick amongst the grapevines. He says that he could not bear to go
          through such an anxious time again, — so we will have to have our next eleven in
          Tanganyika!”

          The next four months passed rapidly as my time was taken up by the demands
          of my new baby. Dr. Trudy King’s method of rearing babies was then the vogue and I
          stuck fanatically to all the rules he laid down, to the intense exasperation of my parents
          who longed to cuddle the child.

          As the time of departure drew near my parents became more and more reluctant
          to allow me to face the journey alone with their adored grandchild, so my brother,
          Graham, very generously offered to escort us on the train to Broken Hill where he could
          put us on the plane for Mbeya.

          Eleanor Rushby

           

          Mchewe Estate. June 15th 1932

          Dearest Family,

          You’ll be glad to know that we arrived quite safe and sound and very, very
          happy to be home.The train Journey was uneventful. Ann slept nearly all the way.
          Graham was very kind and saw to everything. He even sat with the baby whilst I went
          to meals in the dining car.

          We were met at Broken Hill by the Thoms who had arranged accommodation for
          us at the hotel for the night. They also drove us to the aerodrome in the morning where
          the Airways agent told us that Ann is the first baby to travel by air on this section of the
          Cape to England route. The plane trip was very bumpy indeed especially between
          Broken Hill and Mpika. Everyone was ill including poor little Ann who sicked up her milk
          all over the front of my new coat. I arrived at Mbeya looking a sorry caricature of Radiant
          Motherhood. I must have been pale green and the baby was snow white. Under the
          circumstances it was a good thing that George did not meet us. We were met instead
          by Ken Menzies, the owner of the Mbeya Hotel where we spent the night. Ken was
          most fatherly and kind and a good nights rest restored Ann and me to our usual robust
          health.

          Mbeya has greatly changed. The hotel is now finished and can accommodate
          fifty guests. It consists of a large main building housing a large bar and dining room and
          offices and a number of small cottage bedrooms. It even has electric light. There are
          several buildings out at the aerodrome and private houses going up in Mbeya.
          After breakfast Ken Menzies drove us out to the farm where we had a warm
          welcome from George, who looks well but rather thin. The house was spotless and the
          new cook, Abel, had made light scones for tea. George had prepared all sorts of lovely
          surprises. There is a new reed ceiling in the living room and a new dresser gay with
          willow pattern plates which he had ordered from England. There is also a writing table
          and a square table by the door for visitors hats. More personal is a lovely model ship
          which George assembled from one of those Hobbie’s kits. It puts the finishing touch to
          the rather old world air of our living room.

          In the bedroom there is a large double bed which George made himself. It has
          strips of old car tyres nailed to a frame which makes a fine springy mattress and on top
          of this is a thick mattress of kapok.In the kitchen there is a good wood stove which
          George salvaged from a Mission dump. It looks a bit battered but works very well. The
          new cook is excellent. The only blight is that he will wear rubber soled tennis shoes and
          they smell awful. I daren’t hurt his feelings by pointing this out though. Opposite the
          kitchen is a new laundry building containing a forty gallon hot water drum and a sink for
          washing up. Lovely!

          George has been working very hard. He now has forty acres of coffee seedlings
          planted out and has also found time to plant a rose garden and fruit trees. There are
          orange and peach trees, tree tomatoes, paw paws, guavas and berries. He absolutely
          adores Ann who has been very good and does not seem at all unsettled by the long
          journey.

          It is absolutely heavenly to be back and I shall be happier than ever now that I
          have a baby to play with during the long hours when George is busy on the farm,
          Thank you for all your love and care during the many months I was with you. Ann
          sends a special bubble for granddad.

          Your very loving,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate Mbeya July 18th 1932

          Dearest Family,

          Ann at five months is enchanting. She is a very good baby, smiles readily and is
          gaining weight steadily. She doesn’t sleep much during the day but that does not
          matter, because, apart from washing her little things, I have nothing to do but attend to
          her. She sleeps very well at night which is a blessing as George has to get up very
          early to start work on the shamba and needs a good nights rest.
          My nights are not so good, because we are having a plague of rats which frisk
          around in the bedroom at night. Great big ones that come up out of the long grass in the
          gorge beside the house and make cosy homes on our reed ceiling and in the thatch of
          the roof.

          We always have a night light burning so that, if necessary, I can attend to Ann
          with a minimum of fuss, and the things I see in that dim light! There are gaps between
          the reeds and one night I heard, plop! and there, before my horrified gaze, lay a newly
          born hairless baby rat on the floor by the bed, plop, plop! and there lay two more.
          Quite dead, poor things – but what a careless mother.

          I have also seen rats scampering around on the tops of the mosquito nets and
          sometimes we have them on our bed. They have a lovely game. They swarm down
          the cord from which the mosquito net is suspended, leap onto the bed and onto the
          floor. We do not have our net down now the cold season is here and there are few
          mosquitoes.

          Last week a rat crept under Ann’s net which hung to the floor and bit her little
          finger, so now I tuck the net in under the mattress though it makes it difficult for me to
          attend to her at night. We shall have to get a cat somewhere. Ann’s pram has not yet
          arrived so George carries her when we go walking – to her great content.
          The native women around here are most interested in Ann. They come to see
          her, bearing small gifts, and usually bring a child or two with them. They admire my child
          and I admire theirs and there is an exchange of gifts. They produce a couple of eggs or
          a few bananas or perhaps a skinny fowl and I hand over sugar, salt or soap as they
          value these commodities. The most lavish gift went to the wife of Thomas our headman,
          who produced twin daughters in the same week as I had Ann.

          Our neighbours have all been across to welcome me back and to admire the
          baby. These include Marion Coster who came out to join her husband whilst I was in
          South Africa. The two Hickson-Wood children came over on a fat old white donkey.
          They made a pretty picture sitting astride, one behind the other – Maureen with her arms
          around small Michael’s waist. A native toto led the donkey and the children’ s ayah
          walked beside it.

          It is quite cold here now but the sun is bright and the air dry. The whole
          countryside is beautifully green and we are a very happy little family.

          Lots and lots of love,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate August 11th 1932

          Dearest Family,

          George has been very unwell for the past week. He had a nasty gash on his
          knee which went septic. He had a swelling in the groin and a high temperature and could
          not sleep at night for the pain in his leg. Ann was very wakeful too during the same
          period, I think she is teething. I luckily have kept fit though rather harassed. Yesterday the
          leg looked so inflamed that George decided to open up the wound himself. he made
          quite a big cut in exactly the right place. You should have seen the blackish puss
          pouring out.

          After he had thoroughly cleaned the wound George sewed it up himself. he has
          the proper surgical needles and gut. He held the cut together with his left hand and
          pushed the needle through the flesh with his right. I pulled the needle out and passed it
          to George for the next stitch. I doubt whether a surgeon could have made a neater job
          of it. He is still confined to the couch but today his temperature is normal. Some
          husband!

          The previous week was hectic in another way. We had a visit from lions! George
          and I were having supper about 8.30 on Tuesday night when the back verandah was
          suddenly invaded by women and children from the servants quarters behind the kitchen.
          They were all yelling “Simba, Simba.” – simba means lions. The door opened suddenly
          and the houseboy rushed in to say that there were lions at the huts. George got up
          swiftly, fetched gun and ammunition from the bedroom and with the houseboy carrying
          the lamp, went off to investigate. I remained at the table, carrying on with my supper as I
          felt a pioneer’s wife should! Suddenly something big leapt through the open window
          behind me. You can imagine what I thought! I know now that it is quite true to say one’s
          hair rises when one is scared. However it was only Kelly, our huge Irish wolfhound,
          taking cover.

          George returned quite soon to say that apparently the commotion made by the
          women and children had frightened the lions off. He found their tracks in the soft earth
          round the huts and a bag of maize that had been playfully torn open but the lions had
          moved on.

          Next day we heard that they had moved to Hickson-Wood’s shamba. Hicky
          came across to say that the lions had jumped over the wall of his cattle boma and killed
          both his white Muskat riding donkeys.
          He and a friend sat up all next night over the remains but the lions did not return to
          the kill.

          Apart from the little set back last week, Ann is blooming. She has a cap of very
          fine fair hair and clear blue eyes under straight brow. She also has lovely dimples in both
          cheeks. We are very proud of her.

          Our neighbours are picking coffee but the crops are small and the price is low. I
          am amazed that they are so optimistic about the future. No one in these parts ever
          seems to grouse though all are living on capital. They all say “Well if the worst happens
          we can always go up to the Lupa Diggings.”

          Don’t worry about us, we have enough to tide us over for some time yet.

          Much love to all,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. 28th Sept. 1932

          Dearest Family,

          News! News! I’m going to have another baby. George and I are delighted and I
          hope it will be a boy this time. I shall be able to have him at Mbeya because things are
          rapidly changing here. Several German families have moved to Mbeya including a
          German doctor who means to build a hospital there. I expect he will make a very good
          living because there must now be some hundreds of Europeans within a hundred miles
          radius of Mbeya. The Europeans are mostly British or German but there are also
          Greeks and, I believe, several other nationalities are represented on the Lupa Diggings.
          Ann is blooming and developing according to the Book except that she has no
          teeth yet! Kath Hickson-Wood has given her a very nice high chair and now she has
          breakfast and lunch at the table with us. Everything within reach goes on the floor to her
          amusement and my exasperation!

          You ask whether we have any Church of England missionaries in our part. No we
          haven’t though there are Lutheran and Roman Catholic Missions. I have never even
          heard of a visiting Church of England Clergyman to these parts though there are babies
          in plenty who have not been baptised. Jolly good thing I had Ann Christened down
          there.

          The R.C. priests in this area are called White Fathers. They all have beards and
          wear white cassocks and sun helmets. One, called Father Keiling, calls around frequently.
          Though none of us in this area is Catholic we take it in turn to put him up for the night. The
          Catholic Fathers in their turn are most hospitable to travellers regardless of their beliefs.
          Rather a sad thing has happened. Lucas our old chicken-boy is dead. I shall miss
          his toothy smile. George went to the funeral and fired two farewell shots from his rifle
          over the grave – a gesture much appreciated by the locals. Lucas in his day was a good
          hunter.

          Several of the locals own muzzle loading guns but the majority hunt with dogs
          and spears. The dogs wear bells which make an attractive jingle but I cannot bear the
          idea of small antelope being run down until they are exhausted before being clubbed of
          stabbed to death. We seldom eat venison as George does not care to shoot buck.
          Recently though, he shot an eland and Abel rendered down the fat which is excellent for
          cooking and very like beef fat.

          Much love to all,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. P.O.Mbeya 21st November 1932

          Dearest Family,

          George has gone off to the Lupa for a week with John Molteno. John came up
          here with the idea of buying a coffee farm but he has changed his mind and now thinks of
          staking some claims on the diggings and also setting up as a gold buyer.

          Did I tell you about his arrival here? John and George did some elephant hunting
          together in French Equatorial Africa and when John heard that George had married and
          settled in Tanganyika, he also decided to come up here. He drove up from Cape Town
          in a Baby Austin and arrived just as our labourers were going home for the day. The little
          car stopped half way up our hill and John got out to investigate. You should have heard
          the astonished exclamations when John got out – all 6 ft 5 ins. of him! He towered over
          the little car and even to me it seemed impossible for him to have made the long
          journey in so tiny a car.

          Kath Wood has been over several times lately. She is slim and looks so right in
          the shirt and corduroy slacks she almost always wears. She was here yesterday when
          the shamba boy, digging in the front garden, unearthed a large earthenware cooking pot,
          sealed at the top. I was greatly excited and had an instant mental image of fabulous
          wealth. We made the boy bring the pot carefully on to the verandah and opened it in
          happy anticipation. What do you think was inside? Nothing but a grinning skull! Such a
          treat for a pregnant female.

          We have a tree growing here that had lovely straight branches covered by a
          smooth bark. I got the garden boy to cut several of these branches of a uniform size,
          peeled off the bark and have made Ann a playpen with the poles which are much like
          broom sticks. Now I can leave her unattended when I do my chores. The other morning
          after breakfast I put Ann in her playpen on the verandah and gave her a piece of toast
          and honey to keep her quiet whilst I laundered a few of her things. When I looked out a
          little later I was horrified to see a number of bees buzzing around her head whilst she
          placidly concentrated on her toast. I made a rapid foray and rescued her but I still don’t
          know whether that was the thing to do.

          We all send our love,
          Eleanor.

          Mbeya Hospital. April 25th. 1933

          Dearest Family,

          Here I am, installed at the very new hospital, built by Dr Eckhardt, awaiting the
          arrival of the new baby. George has gone back to the farm on foot but will walk in again
          to spend the weekend with us. Ann is with me and enjoys the novelty of playing with
          other children. The Eckhardts have two, a pretty little girl of two and a half and a very fair
          roly poly boy of Ann’s age. Ann at fourteen months is very active. She is quite a little girl
          now with lovely dimples. She walks well but is backward in teething.

          George, Ann and I had a couple of days together at the hotel before I moved in
          here and several of the local women visited me and have promised to visit me in
          hospital. The trip from farm to town was very entertaining if not very comfortable. There
          is ten miles of very rough road between our farm and Utengule Mission and beyond the
          Mission there is a fair thirteen or fourteen mile road to Mbeya.

          As we have no car now the doctor’s wife offered to drive us from the Mission to
          Mbeya but she would not risk her car on the road between the Mission and our farm.
          The upshot was that I rode in the Hickson-Woods machila for that ten mile stretch. The
          machila is a canopied hammock, slung from a bamboo pole, in which I reclined, not too
          comfortably in my unwieldy state, with Ann beside me or sometime straddling me. Four
          of our farm boys carried the machila on their shoulders, two fore and two aft. The relief
          bearers walked on either side. There must have been a dozen in all and they sang a sort
          of sea shanty song as they walked. One man would sing a verse and the others took up
          the chorus. They often improvise as they go. They moaned about my weight (at least
          George said so! I don’t follow Ki-Swahili well yet) and expressed the hope that I would
          have a son and that George would reward them handsomely.

          George and Kelly, the dog, followed close behind the machila and behind
          George came Abel our cook and his wife and small daughter Annalie, all in their best
          attire. The cook wore a palm beach suit, large Terai hat and sunglasses and two colour
          shoes and quite lent a tone to the proceedings! Right at the back came the rag tag and
          bobtail who joined the procession just for fun.

          Mrs Eckhardt was already awaiting us at the Mission when we arrived and we had
          an uneventful trip to the Mbeya Hotel.

          During my last week at the farm I felt very tired and engaged the cook’s small
          daughter, Annalie, to amuse Ann for an hour after lunch so that I could have a rest. They
          played in the small verandah room which adjoins our bedroom and where I keep all my
          sewing materials. One afternoon I was startled by a scream from Ann. I rushed to the
          room and found Ann with blood steaming from her cheek. Annalie knelt beside her,
          looking startled and frightened, with my embroidery scissors in her hand. She had cut off
          half of the long curling golden lashes on one of Ann’s eyelids and, in trying to finish the
          job, had cut off a triangular flap of skin off Ann’s cheek bone.

          I called Abel, the cook, and demanded that he should chastise his daughter there and
          then and I soon heard loud shrieks from behind the kitchen. He spanked her with a
          bamboo switch but I am sure not as well as she deserved. Africans are very tolerant
          towards their children though I have seen husbands and wives fighting furiously.
          I feel very well but long to have the confinement over.

          Very much love,
          Eleanor.

          Mbeya Hospital. 2nd May 1933.

          Dearest Family,

          Little George arrived at 7.30 pm on Saturday evening 29 th. April. George was
          with me at the time as he had walked in from the farm for news, and what a wonderful bit
          of luck that was. The doctor was away on a case on the Diggings and I was bathing Ann
          with George looking on, when the pains started. George dried Ann and gave her
          supper and put her to bed. Afterwards he sat on the steps outside my room and a
          great comfort it was to know that he was there.

          The confinement was short but pretty hectic. The Doctor returned to the Hospital
          just in time to deliver the baby. He is a grand little boy, beautifully proportioned. The
          doctor says he has never seen a better formed baby. He is however rather funny
          looking just now as his head is, very temporarily, egg shaped. He has a shock of black
          silky hair like a gollywog and believe it or not, he has a slight black moustache.
          George came in, looked at the baby, looked at me, and we both burst out
          laughing. The doctor was shocked and said so. He has no sense of humour and couldn’t
          understand that we, though bursting with pride in our son, could never the less laugh at
          him.

          Friends in Mbeya have sent me the most gorgeous flowers and my room is
          transformed with delphiniums, roses and carnations. The room would be very austere
          without the flowers. Curtains, bedspread and enamelware, walls and ceiling are all
          snowy white.

          George hired a car and took Ann home next day. I have little George for
          company during the day but he is removed at night. I am longing to get him home and
          away from the German nurse who feeds him on black tea when he cries. She insists that
          tea is a medicine and good for him.

          Much love from a proud mother of two.
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate 12May 1933

          Dearest Family,

          We are all together at home again and how lovely it feels. Even the house
          servants seem pleased. The boy had decorated the lounge with sprays of
          bougainvillaea and Abel had backed one of his good sponge cakes.

          Ann looked fat and rosy but at first was only moderately interested in me and the
          new baby but she soon thawed. George is good with her and will continue to dress Ann
          in the mornings and put her to bed until I am satisfied with Georgie.

          He, poor mite, has a nasty rash on face and neck. I am sure it is just due to that
          tea the nurse used to give him at night. He has lost his moustache and is fast loosing his
          wild black hair and emerging as quite a handsome babe. He is a very masculine looking
          infant with much more strongly marked eyebrows and a larger nose that Ann had. He is
          very good and lies quietly in his basket even when awake.

          George has been making a hatching box for brown trout ova and has set it up in
          a small clear stream fed by a spring in readiness for the ova which is expected from
          South Africa by next weeks plane. Some keen fishermen from Mbeya and the District
          have clubbed together to buy the ova. The fingerlings are later to be transferred to
          streams in Mbeya and Tukuyu Districts.

          I shall now have my hands full with the two babies and will not have much time for the
          garden, or I fear, for writing very long letters. Remember though, that no matter how
          large my family becomes, I shall always love you as much as ever.

          Your affectionate,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. 14th June 1933

          Dearest Family,

          The four of us are all well but alas we have lost our dear Kelly. He was rather a
          silly dog really, although he grew so big he retained all his puppy ways but we were all
          very fond of him, especially George because Kelly attached himself to George whilst I
          was away having Ann and from that time on he was George’s shadow. I think he had
          some form of biliary fever. He died stretched out on the living room couch late last night,
          with George sitting beside him so that he would not feel alone.

          The children are growing fast. Georgie is a darling. He now has a fluff of pale
          brown hair and his eyes are large and dark brown. Ann is very plump and fair.
          We have had several visitors lately. Apart from neighbours, a car load of diggers
          arrived one night and John Molteno and his bride were here. She is a very attractive girl
          but, I should say, more suited to life in civilisation than in this back of beyond. She has
          gone out to the diggings with her husband and will have to walk a good stretch of the fifty
          or so miles.

          The diggers had to sleep in the living room on the couch and on hastily erected
          camp beds. They arrived late at night and left after breakfast next day. One had half a
          beard, the other side of his face had been forcibly shaved in the bar the night before.

          your affectionate,
          Eleanor

          Mchewe Estate. August 10 th. 1933

          Dearest Family,

          George is away on safari with two Indian Army officers. The money he will get for
          his services will be very welcome because this coffee growing is a slow business, and
          our capitol is rapidly melting away. The job of acting as White Hunter was unexpected
          or George would not have taken on the job of hatching the ova which duly arrived from
          South Africa.

          George and the District Commissioner, David Pollock, went to meet the plane
          by which the ova had been consigned but the pilot knew nothing about the package. It
          came to light in the mail bag with the parcels! However the ova came to no harm. David
          Pollock and George brought the parcel to the farm and carefully transferred the ova to
          the hatching box. It was interesting to watch the tiny fry hatch out – a process which took
          several days. Many died in the process and George removed the dead by sucking
          them up in a glass tube.

          When hatched, the tiny fry were fed on ant eggs collected by the boys. I had to
          take over the job of feeding and removing the dead when George left on safari. The fry
          have to be fed every four hours, like the baby, so each time I have fed Georgie. I hurry
          down to feed the trout.

          The children are very good but keep me busy. Ann can now say several words
          and understands more. She adores Georgie. I long to show them off to you.

          Very much love
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. October 27th 1933

          Dear Family,

          All just over flu. George and Ann were very poorly. I did not fare so badly and
          Georgie came off best. He is on a bottle now.

          There was some excitement here last Wednesday morning. At 6.30 am. I called
          for boiling water to make Georgie’s food. No water arrived but muffled shouting and the
          sound of blows came from the kitchen. I went to investigate and found a fierce fight in
          progress between the house boy and the kitchen boy. In my efforts to make them stop
          fighting I went too close and got a sharp bang on the mouth with the edge of an
          enamelled plate the kitchen boy was using as a weapon. My teeth cut my lip inside and
          the plate cut it outside and blood flowed from mouth to chin. The boys were petrified.
          By the time I had fed Georgie the lip was stiff and swollen. George went in wrath
          to the kitchen and by breakfast time both house boy and kitchen boy had swollen faces
          too. Since then I have a kettle of boiling water to hand almost before the words are out
          of my mouth. I must say that the fight was because the house boy had clouted the
          kitchen boy for keeping me waiting! In this land of piece work it is the job of the kitchen
          boy to light the fire and boil the kettle but the houseboy’s job to carry the kettle to me.
          I have seen little of Kath Wood or Marion Coster for the past two months. Major
          Jones is the neighbour who calls most regularly. He has a wireless set and calls on all of
          us to keep us up to date with world as well as local news. He often brings oranges for
          Ann who adores him. He is a very nice person but no oil painting and makes no effort to
          entertain Ann but she thinks he is fine. Perhaps his monocle appeals to her.

          George has bought a six foot long galvanised bath which is a great improvement
          on the smaller oval one we have used until now. The smaller one had grown battered
          from much use and leaks like a sieve. Fortunately our bathroom has a cement floor,
          because one had to fill the bath to the brim and then bath extremely quickly to avoid
          being left high and dry.

          Lots and lots of love,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. P.O. Mbeya 1st December 1933

          Dearest Family,

          Ann has not been well. We think she has had malaria. She has grown a good
          deal lately and looks much thinner and rather pale. Georgie is thriving and has such
          sparkling brown eyes and a ready smile. He and Ann make a charming pair, one so fair
          and the other dark.

          The Moltenos’ spent a few days here and took Georgie and me to Mbeya so
          that Georgie could be vaccinated. However it was an unsatisfactory trip because the
          doctor had no vaccine.

          George went to the Lupa with the Moltenos and returned to the farm in their Baby
          Austin which they have lent to us for a week. This was to enable me to go to Mbeya to
          have a couple of teeth filled by a visiting dentist.

          We went to Mbeya in the car on Saturday. It was quite a squash with the four of
          us on the front seat of the tiny car. Once George grabbed the babies foot instead of the
          gear knob! We had Georgie vaccinated at the hospital and then went to the hotel where
          the dentist was installed. Mr Dare, the dentist, had few instruments and they were very
          tarnished. I sat uncomfortably on a kitchen chair whilst he tinkered with my teeth. He filled
          three but two of the fillings came out that night. This meant another trip to Mbeya in the
          Baby Austin but this time they seem all right.

          The weather is very hot and dry and the garden a mess. We are having trouble
          with the young coffee trees too. Cut worms are killing off seedlings in the nursery and
          there is a borer beetle in the planted out coffee.

          George bought a large grey donkey from some wandering Masai and we hope
          the children will enjoy riding it later on.

          Very much love,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. 14th February 1934.

          Dearest Family,

          You will be sorry to hear that little Ann has been very ill, indeed we were terribly
          afraid that we were going to lose her. She enjoyed her birthday on the 8th. All the toys
          you, and her English granny, sent were unwrapped with such delight. However next
          day she seemed listless and a bit feverish so I tucked her up in bed after lunch. I dosed
          her with quinine and aspirin and she slept fitfully. At about eleven o’clock I was
          awakened by a strange little cry. I turned up the night light and was horrified to see that
          Ann was in a convulsion. I awakened George who, as always in an emergency, was
          perfectly calm and practical. He filled the small bath with very warm water and emersed
          Ann in it, placing a cold wet cloth on her head. We then wrapped her in blankets and
          gave her an enema and she settled down to sleep. A few hours later we had the same
          thing over again.

          At first light we sent a runner to Mbeya to fetch the doctor but waited all day in
          vain and in the evening the runner returned to say that the doctor had gone to a case on
          the diggings. Ann had been feverish all day with two or three convulsions. Neither
          George or I wished to leave the bedroom, but there was Georgie to consider, and in
          the afternoon I took him out in the garden for a while whilst George sat with Ann.
          That night we both sat up all night and again Ann had those wretched attacks of
          convulsions. George and I were worn out with anxiety by the time the doctor arrived the
          next afternoon. Ann had not been able to keep down any quinine and had had only
          small sips of water since the onset of the attack.

          The doctor at once diagnosed the trouble as malaria aggravated by teething.
          George held Ann whilst the Doctor gave her an injection. At the first attempt the needle
          bent into a bow, George was furious! The second attempt worked and after a few hours
          Ann’s temperature dropped and though she was ill for two days afterwards she is now
          up and about. She has also cut the last of her baby teeth, thank God. She looks thin and
          white, but should soon pick up. It has all been a great strain to both of us. Georgie
          behaved like an angel throughout. He played happily in his cot and did not seem to
          sense any tension as people say, babies do. Our baby was cheerful and not at all
          subdued.

          This is the rainy season and it is a good thing that some work has been done on
          our road or the doctor might not have got through.

          Much love to all,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. 1st October 1934

          Dearest Family,

          We are all well now, thank goodness, but last week Georgie gave us such a
          fright. I was sitting on the verandah, busy with some sewing and not watching Ann and
          Georgie, who were trying to reach a bunch of bananas which hung on a rope from a
          beam of the verandah. Suddenly I heard a crash, Georgie had fallen backward over the
          edge of the verandah and hit the back of his head on the edge of the brick furrow which
          carries away the rainwater. He lay flat on his back with his arms spread out and did not
          move or cry. When I picked him up he gave a little whimper, I carried him to his cot and
          bathed his face and soon he began sitting up and appeared quite normal. The trouble
          began after he had vomited up his lunch. He began to whimper and bang his head
          against the cot.

          George and I were very worried because we have no transport so we could not
          take Georgie to the doctor and we could not bear to go through again what we had gone
          through with Ann earlier in the year. Then, in the late afternoon, a miracle happened. Two
          men George hardly knew, and complete strangers to me, called in on their way from the
          diggings to Mbeya and they kindly drove Georgie and me to the hospital. The Doctor
          allowed me to stay with Georgie and we spent five days there. Luckily he responded to
          treatment and is now as alive as ever. Children do put years on one!

          There is nothing much else to report. We have a new vegetable garden which is
          doing well but the earth here is strange. Gardens seem to do well for two years but by
          that time the soil is exhausted and one must move the garden somewhere else. The
          coffee looks well but it will be another year before we can expect even a few bags of
          coffee and prices are still low. Anyway by next year George should have some good
          return for all his hard work.

          Lots of love,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. November 4th 1934

          Dearest Family,

          George is home from his White Hunting safari looking very sunburnt and well.
          The elderly American, who was his client this time, called in here at the farm to meet me
          and the children. It is amazing what spirit these old lads have! This one looked as though
          he should be thinking in terms of slippers and an armchair but no, he thinks in terms of
          high powered rifles with telescopic sights.

          It is lovely being together again and the children are delighted to have their Dad
          home. Things are always exciting when George is around. The day after his return
          George said at breakfast, “We can’t go on like this. You and the kids never get off the
          shamba. We’ll simply have to get a car.” You should have heard the excitement. “Get a
          car Daddy?’” cried Ann jumping in her chair so that her plaits bounced. “Get a car
          Daddy?” echoed Georgie his brown eyes sparkling. “A car,” said I startled, “However
          can we afford one?”

          “Well,” said George, “on my way back from Safari I heard that a car is to be sold
          this week at the Tukuyu Court, diseased estate or bankruptcy or something, I might get it
          cheap and it is an A.C.” The name meant nothing to me, but George explained that an
          A.C. is first cousin to a Rolls Royce.

          So off he went to the sale and next day the children and I listened all afternoon for
          the sound of an approaching car. We had many false alarms but, towards evening we
          heard what appeared to be the roar of an aeroplane engine. It was the A.C. roaring her
          way up our steep hill with a long plume of steam waving gaily above her radiator.
          Out jumped my beaming husband and in no time at all, he was showing off her
          points to an admiring family. Her lines are faultless and seats though worn are most
          comfortable. She has a most elegant air so what does it matter that the radiator leaks like
          a sieve, her exhaust pipe has broken off, her tyres are worn almost to the canvas and
          she has no windscreen. She goes, and she cost only five pounds.

          Next afternoon George, the kids and I piled into the car and drove along the road
          on lookout for guinea fowl. All went well on the outward journey but on the homeward
          one the poor A.C. simply gasped and died. So I carried the shot gun and George
          carried both children and we trailed sadly home. This morning George went with a bunch
          of farmhands and brought her home. Truly temperamental, she came home literally
          under her own steam.

          George now plans to get a second hand engine and radiator for her but it won’t
          be an A.C. engine. I think she is the only one of her kind in the country.
          I am delighted to hear, dad, that you are sending a bridle for Joseph for
          Christmas. I am busy making a saddle out of an old piece of tent canvas stuffed with
          kapok, some webbing and some old rug straps. A car and a riding donkey! We’re
          definitely carriage folk now.

          Lots of love to all,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. 28th December 1934

          Dearest Family,

          Thank you for the wonderful Christmas parcel. My frock is a splendid fit. George
          declares that no one can knit socks like Mummy and the children love their toys and new
          clothes.

          Joseph, the donkey, took his bit with an air of bored resignation and Ann now
          rides proudly on his back. Joseph is a big strong animal with the looks and disposition of
          a mule. he will not go at all unless a native ‘toto’ walks before him and when he does go
          he wears a pained expression as though he were carrying fourteen stone instead of
          Ann’s fly weight. I walk beside the donkey carrying Georgie and our cat, ‘Skinny Winnie’,
          follows behind. Quite a cavalcade. The other day I got so exasperated with Joseph that
          I took Ann off and I got on. Joseph tottered a few paces and sat down! to the huge
          delight of our farm labourers who were going home from work. Anyway, one good thing,
          the donkey is so lazy that there is little chance of him bolting with Ann.

          The Moltenos spent Christmas with us and left for the Lupa Diggings yesterday.
          They arrived on the 22nd. with gifts for the children and chocolates and beer. That very
          afternoon George and John Molteno left for Ivuna, near Lake Ruckwa, to shoot some
          guinea fowl and perhaps a goose for our Christmas dinner. We expected the menfolk
          back on Christmas Eve and Anne and I spent a busy day making mince pies and
          sausage rolls. Why I don’t know, because I am sure Abel could have made them better.
          We decorated the Christmas tree and sat up very late but no husbands turned up.
          Christmas day passed but still no husbands came. Anne, like me, is expecting a baby
          and we both felt pretty forlorn and cross. Anne was certain that they had been caught up
          in a party somewhere and had forgotten all about us and I must say when Boxing Day
          went by and still George and John did not show up I felt ready to agree with her.
          They turned up towards evening and explained that on the homeward trip the car
          had bogged down in the mud and that they had spent a miserable Christmas. Anne
          refused to believe their story so George, to prove their case, got the game bag and
          tipped the contents on to the dining room table. Out fell several guinea fowl, long past
          being edible, followed by a large goose so high that it was green and blue where all the
          feathers had rotted off.

          The stench was too much for two pregnant girls. I shot out of the front door
          closely followed by Anne and we were both sick in the garden.

          I could not face food that evening but Anne is made of stronger stuff and ate her
          belated Christmas dinner with relish.

          I am looking forward enormously to having Marjorie here with us. She will be able
          to carry back to you an eyewitness account of our home and way of life.

          Much love to you all,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. 5th January 1935

          Dearest Family,

          You cannot imagine how lovely it is to have Marjorie here. She came just in time
          because I have had pernicious vomiting and have lost a great deal of weight and she
          took charge of the children and made me spend three days in hospital having treatment.
          George took me to the hospital on the afternoon of New Years Eve and decided
          to spend the night at the hotel and join in the New Years Eve celebrations. I had several
          visitors at the hospital that evening and George actually managed to get some imported
          grapes for me. He returned to the farm next morning and fetched me from the hospital
          four days later. Of course the old A.C. just had to play up. About half way home the
          back axle gave in and we had to send a passing native some miles back to a place
          called Mbalizi to hire a lorry from a Greek trader to tow us home to the farm.
          The children looked well and were full of beans. I think Marjorie was thankful to
          hand them over to me. She is delighted with Ann’s motherly little ways but Georgie she
          calls “a really wild child”. He isn’t, just has such an astonishing amount of energy and is
          always up to mischief. Marjorie brought us all lovely presents. I am so thrilled with my
          sewing machine. It may be an old model but it sews marvellously. We now have an
          Alsatian pup as well as Joseph the donkey and the two cats.

          Marjorie had a midnight encounter with Joseph which gave her quite a shock but
          we had a good laugh about it next day. Some months ago George replaced our wattle
          and daub outside pit lavatory by a substantial brick one, so large that Joseph is being
          temporarily stabled in it at night. We neglected to warn Marj about this and one night,
          storm lamp in hand, she opened the door and Joseph walked out braying his thanks.
          I am afraid Marjorie is having a quiet time, a shame when the journey from Cape
          Town is so expensive. The doctor has told me to rest as much as I can, so it is
          impossible for us to take Marj on sight seeing trips.

          I hate to think that she will be leaving in ten days time.

          Much love,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe Estate. 18th February 1935

          Dearest Family,

          You must be able to visualise our life here quite well now that Marj is back and
          has no doubt filled in all the details I forget to mention in my letters. What a journey we
          had in the A.C. when we took her to the plane. George, the children and I sat in front and
          Marj sat behind with numerous four gallon tins of water for the insatiable radiator. It was
          raining and the canvas hood was up but part of the side flaps are missing and as there is
          no glass in the windscreen the rain blew in on us. George got fed up with constantly
          removing the hot radiator cap so simply stuffed a bit of rag in instead. When enough
          steam had built up in the radiator behind the rag it blew out and we started all over again.
          The car still roars like an aeroplane engine and yet has little power so that George sent
          gangs of boys to the steep hills between the farm and the Mission to give us a push if
          necessary. Fortunately this time it was not, and the boys cheered us on our way. We
          needed their help on the homeward journey however.

          George has now bought an old Chev engine which he means to install before I
          have to go to hospital to have my new baby. It will be quite an engineering feet as
          George has few tools.

          I am sorry to say that I am still not well, something to do with kidneys or bladder.
          George bought me some pills from one of the several small shops which have opened
          in Mbeya and Ann is most interested in the result. She said seriously to Kath Wood,
          “Oh my Mummy is a very clever Mummy. She can do blue wee and green wee as well
          as yellow wee.” I simply can no longer manage the children without help and have
          engaged the cook’s wife, Janey, to help. The children are by no means thrilled. I plead in
          vain that I am not well enough to go for walks. Ann says firmly, “Ann doesn’t want to go
          for a walk. Ann will look after you.” Funny, though she speaks well for a three year old,
          she never uses the first person. Georgie say he would much rather walk with
          Keshokutwa, the kitchen boy. His name by the way, means day-after-tomorrow and it
          suits him down to the ground, Kath Wood walks over sometimes with offers of help and Ann will gladly go walking with her but Georgie won’t. He on the other hand will walk with Anne Molteno
          and Ann won’t. They are obstinate kids. Ann has developed a very fertile imagination.
          She has probably been looking at too many of those nice women’s magazines you
          sent. A few days ago she said, “You are sick Mummy, but Ann’s got another Mummy.
          She’s not sick, and my other mummy (very smugly) has lovely golden hair”. This
          morning’ not ten minutes after I had dressed her, she came in with her frock wet and
          muddy. I said in exasperation, “Oh Ann, you are naughty.” To which she instantly
          returned, “My other Mummy doesn’t think I am naughty. She thinks I am very nice.” It
          strikes me I shall have to get better soon so that I can be gay once more and compete
          with that phantom golden haired paragon.

          We had a very heavy storm over the farm last week. There was heavy rain with
          hail which stripped some of the coffee trees and the Mchewe River flooded and the
          water swept through the lower part of the shamba. After the water had receded George
          picked up a fine young trout which had been stranded. This was one of some he had
          put into the river when Georgie was a few months old.

          The trials of a coffee farmer are legion. We now have a plague of snails. They
          ring bark the young trees and leave trails of slime on the glossy leaves. All the ring
          barked trees will have to be cut right back and this is heartbreaking as they are bearing
          berries for the first time. The snails are collected by native children, piled upon the
          ground and bashed to a pulp which gives off a sickening stench. I am sorry for the local
          Africans. Locusts ate up their maize and now they are losing their bean crop to the snails.

          Lots of love, Eleanor

          #6243
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            William Housley’s Will and the Court Case

            William Housley died in 1848, but his widow Ellen didn’t die until 1872.  The court case was in 1873.  Details about the court case are archived at the National Archives at Kew,  in London, but are not available online. They can be viewed in person, but that hasn’t been possible thus far.  However, there are a great many references to it in the letters.

            William Housley’s first wife was Mary Carrington 1787-1813.  They had three children, Mary Anne, Elizabeth and William. When Mary died, William married Mary’s sister Ellen, not in their own parish church at Smalley but in Ashbourne.  Although not uncommon for a widower to marry a deceased wife’s sister, it wasn’t legal.  This point is mentioned in one of the letters.

            One of the pages of William Housley’s will:

            William Housleys Will

             

            An excerpt from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

            A comment in a letter from Joseph (August 6, 1873) indicated that William was married twice and that his wives were sisters: “What do you think that I believe that Mary Ann is trying to make our father’s will of no account as she says that my father’s marriage with our mother was not lawful he marrying two sisters. What do you think of her? I have heard my mother say something about paying a fine at the time of the marriage to make it legal.” Markwell and Saul in The A-Z Guide to Tracing Ancestors in Britain explain that marriage to a deceased wife’s sister was not permissible under Canon law as the relationship was within the prohibited degrees. However, such marriages did take place–usually well away from the couple’s home area. Up to 1835 such marriages were not void but were voidable by legal action. Few such actions were instituted but the risk was always there.

            Joseph wrote that when Emma was married, Ellen “broke up the comfortable home and the things went to Derby and she went to live with them but Derby didn’t agree with her so she left again leaving her things behind and came to live with John in the new house where she died.” Ellen was listed with John’s household in the 1871 census. 
            In May 1872, the Ilkeston Pioneer carried this notice: “Mr. Hopkins will sell by auction on Saturday next the eleventh of May 1872 the whole of the useful furniture, sewing machine, etc. nearly new on the premises of the late Mrs. Housley at Smalley near Heanor in the county of Derby. Sale at one o’clock in the afternoon.”

            There were hard feelings between Mary Ann and Ellen and her children. Anne wrote: “If you remember we were not very friendly when you left. They never came and nothing was too bad for Mary Ann to say of Mother and me, but when Robert died Mother sent for her to the funeral but she did not think well to come so we took no more notice. She would not allow her children to come either.”
            Mary Ann was still living in May 1872. Joseph implied that she and her brother, Will “intend making a bit of bother about the settlement of the bit of property” left by their mother. The 1871 census listed Mary Ann’s occupation as “income from houses.”

            In July 1872, Joseph introduced Ruth’s husband: “No doubt he is a bad lot. He is one of the Heath’s of Stanley Common a miller and he lives at Smalley Mill” (Ruth Heath was Mary Anne Housley’s daughter)
            In 1873 Joseph wrote, “He is nothing but a land shark both Heath and his wife and his wife is the worst of the two. You will think these is hard words but they are true dear brother.” The solicitor, Abraham John Flint, was not at all pleased with Heath’s obstruction of the settlement of the estate. He wrote on June 30, 1873: “Heath agreed at first and then because I would not pay his expenses he refused and has since instructed another solicitor for his wife and Mrs. Weston who have been opposing us to the utmost. I am concerned for all parties interested except these two….The judge severely censured Heath for his conduct and wanted to make an order for sale there and then but Heath’s council would not consent….” In June 1875, the solicitor wrote: “Heath bid for the property but it fetched more money than he could give for it. He has been rather quieter lately.”

            In May 1872, Joseph wrote: “For what do you think, John has sold his share and he has acted very bad since his wife died and at the same time he sold all his furniture. You may guess I have never seen him but once since poor mother’s funeral and he is gone now no one knows where.”

            In 1876, the solicitor wrote to George: “Have you heard of John Housley? He is entitled to Robert’s share and I want him to claim it.”

            Anne intended that one third of the inheritance coming to her from her father and her grandfather, William Carrington, be divided between her four nieces: Sam’s three daughters and John’s daughter Elizabeth.
            In the same letter (December 15, 1872), Joseph wrote:
            “I think we have now found all out now that is concerned in the matter for there was only Sam that we did not know his whereabouts but I was informed a week ago that he is dead–died about three years ago in Birmingham Union. Poor Sam. He ought to have come to a better end than that”

            However, Samuel was still alive was on the 1871 census in Henley in Arden, and no record of his death can be found. Samuel’s brother in law said he was dead: we do not know why he lied, or perhaps the brothers were lying to keep his share, or another possibility is that Samuel himself told his brother in law to tell them that he was dead. I am inclined to think it was the latter.

            Excerpts from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters continued:

            Charles went to Australia in 1851, and was last heard from in January 1853. According to the solicitor, who wrote to George on June 3, 1874, Charles had received advances on the settlement of their parent’s estate. “Your promissory note with the two signed by your brother Charles for 20 pounds he received from his father and 20 pounds he received from his mother are now in the possession of the court.”

            In December 1872, Joseph wrote: “I’m told that Charles two daughters has wrote to Smalley post office making inquiries about his share….” In January 1876, the solicitor wrote: “Charles Housley’s children have claimed their father’s share.”

            In the Adelaide Observer 28 Aug 1875

            HOUSLEY – wanted information
            as to the Death, Will, or Intestacy, and
            Children of Charles Housley, formerly of
            Smalley, Derbyshire, England, who died at
            Geelong or Creewick Creek Diggings, Victoria
            August, 1855. His children will hear of something to their advantage by communicating with
            Mr. A J. Flint, solicitor, Derby, England.
            June 16,1875.

            The Diggers & Diggings of Victoria in 1855. Drawn on Stone by S.T. Gill:

            Victoria Diggings, Australie

             

            The court case:

             Kerry v Housley.
            Documents: Bill, demurrer.
            Plaintiffs: Samuel Kerry and Joseph Housley.
            Defendants: William Housley, Joseph Housley (deleted), Edwin Welch Harvey, Eleanor Harvey (deleted), Ernest Harvey infant, William Stafford, Elizabeth Stafford his wife, Mary Ann Housley, George Purdy and Catherine Purdy his wife, Elizabeth Housley, Mary Ann Weston widow and William Heath and Ruth Heath his wife (deleted).
            Provincial solicitor employed in Derbyshire.
            Date: 1873

            From the Narrative on the Letters:

            The solicitor wrote on May 23, 1874: “Lately I have not written because I was not certain of your address and because I doubted I had much interesting news to tell you.” Later, Joseph wrote concerning the problems settling the estate, “You see dear brother there is only me here on our side and I cannot do much. I wish you were here to help me a bit and if you think of going for another summer trip this turn you might as well run over here.”

            In March 1873, Joseph wrote: “You ask me what I think of you coming to England. I think as you have given the trustee power to sign for you I think you could do no good but I should like to see you once again for all that. I can’t say whether there would be anything amiss if you did come as you say it would be throwing good money after bad.”

            In September 1872 Joseph wrote; “My wife is anxious to come. I hope it will suit her health for she is not over strong.” Elsewhere Joseph wrote that Harriet was “middling sometimes. She is subject to sick headaches. It knocks her up completely when they come on.” In December 1872 Joseph wrote, “Now dear brother about us coming to America you know we shall have to wait until this affair is settled and if it is not settled and thrown into Chancery I’m afraid we shall have to stay in England for I shall never be able to save money enough to bring me out and my family but I hope of better things.”
            On July 19, 1875 Abraham Flint (the solicitor) wrote: “Joseph Housley has removed from Smalley and is working on some new foundry buildings at Little Chester near Derby. He lives at a village called Little Eaton near Derby. If you address your letter to him as Joseph Housley, carpenter, Little Eaton near Derby that will no doubt find him.”

            In his last letter (February 11, 1874), Joseph sounded very discouraged and wrote that Harriet’s parents were very poorly and both had been “in bed for a long time.” In addition, Harriet and the children had been ill.
            The move to Little Eaton may indicate that Joseph received his settlement because in August, 1873, he wrote: “I think this is bad news enough and bad luck too, but I have had little else since I came to live at Kiddsley cottages but perhaps it is all for the best if one could only think so. I have begun to think there will be no chance for us coming over to you for I am afraid there will not be so much left as will bring us out without it is settled very shortly but I don’t intend leaving this house until it is settled either one way or the other. ”

            Joseph’s letters were much concerned with the settling of their mother’s estate. In 1854, Anne wrote, “As for my mother coming (to America) I think not at all likely. She is tied here with her property.” A solicitor, Abraham John Flint of 42 Full Street Derby, was engaged by John following the death of their mother. On June 30, 1873 the solicitor wrote: “Dear sir, On the death of your mother I was consulted by your brother John. I acted for him with reference to the sale and division of your father’s property at Smalley. Mr. Kerry was very unwilling to act as trustee being over 73 years of age but owing to the will being a badly drawn one we could not appoint another trustee in his place nor could the property be sold without a decree of chancery. Therefore Mr. Kerry consented and after a great deal of trouble with Heath who has opposed us all throughout whenever matters did not suit him, we found the title deeds and offered the property for sale by public auction on the 15th of July last. Heath could not find his purchase money without mortaging his property the solicitor which the mortgagee employed refused to accept Mr. Kerry’s title and owing to another defect in the will we could not compel them.”

            In July 1872, Joseph wrote, “I do not know whether you can remember who the trustee was to my father’s will. It was Thomas Watson and Samuel Kerry of Smalley Green. Mr. Watson is dead (died a fortnight before mother) so Mr. Kerry has had to manage the affair.”

            On Dec. 15, 1972, Joseph wrote, “Now about this property affair. It seems as far off of being settled as ever it was….” and in the following March wrote: “I think we are as far off as ever and farther I think.”

            Concerning the property which was auctioned on July 15, 1872 and brought 700 pounds, Joseph wrote: “It was sold in five lots for building land and this man Heath bought up four lots–that is the big house, the croft and the cottages. The croft was made into two lots besides the piece belonging to the big house and the cottages and gardens was another lot and the little intake was another. William Richardson bought that.” Elsewhere Richardson’s purchase was described as “the little croft against Smith’s lane.” Smith’s Lane was probably named for their neighbor Daniel Smith, Mrs. Davy’s father.
            But in December 1872, Joseph wrote that they had not received any money because “Mr. Heath is raising all kinds of objections to the will–something being worded wrong in the will.” In March 1873, Joseph “clarified” matters in this way: “His objection was that one trustee could not convey the property that his signature was not guarantee sufficient as it states in the will that both trustees has to sign the conveyance hence this bother.”
            Joseph indicated that six shares were to come out of the 700 pounds besides Will’s 20 pounds. Children were to come in for the parents shares if dead. The solicitor wrote in 1873, “This of course refers to the Kidsley property in which you take a one seventh share and which if the property sells well may realize you about 60-80 pounds.” In March 1873 Joseph wrote: “You have an equal share with the rest in both lots of property, but I am afraid there will be but very little for any of us.”

            The other “lot of property” was “property in Smalley left under another will.” On July 17, 1872, Joseph wrote: “It was left by my grandfather Carrington and Uncle Richard is trustee. He seems very backward in bringing the property to a sale but I saw him and told him that I for one expect him to proceed with it.” George seemed to have difficulty understanding that there were two pieces of property so Joseph explained further: “It was left by my grandfather Carrington not by our father and Uncle Richard is the trustee for it but the will does not give him power to sell without the signatures of the parties concerned.” In June 1873 the solicitor Abraham John Flint asked: “Nothing has been done about the other property at Smalley at present. It wants attention and the other parties have asked me to attend to it. Do you authorize me to see to it for you as well?”
            After Ellen’s death, the rent was divided between Joseph, Will, Mary Ann and Mr. Heath who bought John’s share and was married to Mary Ann’s daughter, Ruth. Joseph said that Mr. Heath paid 40 pounds for John’s share and that John had drawn 110 pounds in advance. The solicitor said Heath said he paid 60. The solicitor said that Heath was trying to buy the shares of those at home to get control of the property and would have defied the absent ones to get anything.
            In September 1872 Joseph wrote that the lawyer said the trustee cannot sell the property at the bottom of Smalley without the signatures of all parties concerned in it and it will have to go through chancery court which will be a great expense. He advised Joseph to sell his share and Joseph advised George to do the same.

            George sent a “portrait” so that it could be established that it was really him–still living and due a share. Joseph wrote (July 1872): “the trustee was quite willing to (acknowledge you) for the portrait I think is a very good one.” Several letters later in response to an inquiry from George, Joseph wrote: “The trustee recognized you in a minute…I have not shown it to Mary Ann for we are not on good terms….Parties that I have shown it to own you again but they say it is a deal like John. It is something like him, but I think is more like myself.”
            In September 1872 Joseph wrote that the lawyer required all of their ages and they would have to pay “succession duty”. Joseph requested that George send a list of birth dates.

            On May 23, 1874, the solicitor wrote: “I have been offered 240 pounds for the three cottages and the little house. They sold for 200 pounds at the last sale and then I was offered 700 pounds for the whole lot except Richardson’s Heanor piece for which he is still willing to give 58 pounds. Thus you see that the value of the estate has very materially increased since the last sale so that this delay has been beneficial to your interests than other-wise. Coal has become much dearer and they suppose there is coal under this estate. There are many enquiries about it and I believe it will realize 800 pounds or more which increase will more than cover all expenses.” Eventually the solicitor wrote that the property had been sold for 916 pounds and George would take a one-ninth share.

            January 14, 1876:  “I am very sorry to hear of your lameness and illness but I trust that you are now better. This matter as I informed you had to stand over until December since when all the costs and expenses have been taxed and passed by the court and I am expecting to receive the order for these this next week, then we have to pay the legacy duty and them divide the residue which I doubt won’t come to very much amongst so many of you. But you will hear from me towards the end of the month or early next month when I shall have to send you the papers to sign for your share. I can’t tell you how much it will be at present as I shall have to deduct your share with the others of the first sale made of the property before it went to court.
            Wishing you a Happy New Year, I am Dear Sir, Yours truly
            Abram J. Flint”

            September 15, 1876 (the last letter)
            “I duly received your power of attorney which appears to have been properly executed on Thursday last and I sent it on to my London agent, Mr. Henry Lyvell, who happens just now to be away for his annual vacation and will not return for 14 or 20 days and as his signature is required by the Paymaster General before he will pay out your share, it must consequently stand over and await his return home. It shall however receive immediate attention as soon as he returns and I hope to be able to send your checque for the balance very shortly.”

            1874 in chancery:

            Housley Estate Sale

            #6121

            In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

            “Now then ladies, what’s all this about?” The burly bouncer appeared, blocking the doorway.

            “Look!” hissed Tara, showing him the tattoo on April’s shoulder.  “This!”

            “Nice tattoo!” he said appreciatively.  “Why, I even have one myself just like it!”

            “On your buttock?” asked Star incredulously.

            “Why you cheeky thing,” replied the bouncer with a smile. “No, as it happens it’s on my ankle.  I left the cult before I reached buttock bell bird status.”

            “Wait, what? What cult?”

            “The same cult as you were in,” he said, turning to April. “Am I right?”

            “I don’t know what you mean,” stammered April, reddening.

            “What the hell is going on!” shouted Tara.  “Are we the only ones NOT in the damn cult?”

            “Looks like it” smirked the waitress, pulling her blouse up to reveal a bell bird tattoo on her belly.

            “That’s it, I’ve had enough of this! I’m going back to the wardrobe!” exclaimed Star.

            The bouncer and the waitress exchanged glances. “Unwoke sheeple losing their minds,” the waitress said knowingly.

            “Oh my fucking god,” Tara said, close to tears.

            #6108

            In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

            TracyTracy
            Participant

              tara nurse giving april animals

              comes becky dolls getting loud

              face leaving  happens

              character alone arm helper

              great times

              weather bad

              #6066

              In reply to: The Pistil Maze

              “It’s funny,” he said, squinting his eyes. “Looks like the maze kind of fades out.”

              “Oh yeah, that happens all the time. People lose interest you see, then it all but vanishes from their experience. Quaint, I know.”

              Kahurangi, nicknamed Kahu, was trying hard to get interested, see if the structure would come back into focus. But there were more fun things around. He asked again to the guy who was selling pop corn at the entrance.

              “T’is normal that people wander around with… well, pets? Look at this guy, with a piglet on a leash. It’s cute, don’t get me wrong, and probably more useful when you’re looking for truffles…”

              “Pretty normal. Seems animal have a sense around this thing, or so it’s believed. Many will bring one and try again. Look, I buried my snake not long ago, it was getting tired I think. Not sure they make the best animals to cover ground there.” He continued “Are you buying me something or what?”

              “Oh sure, give me that, and a bottle of water.”

              He handed a crumpled bill of 5 and thanked.

              “A word of unsollicited advice?”

              Kahu noded “Sure.”

              “See those piles of rocks over there, along the way?”

              “Looks like inukshuks, are they? Strange place to find them though.”

              “Yeah, you’ll tend to see more as you get along. People started to build them to pinpoint places they’d been, but over time, they became encampments, and people lost the will to move on.”

              “So what?”

              “Don’t stay too long around them.”

              Kahu shrugged and moved along. The maze was starting to get in focus again, there was not a minute to spare.

              #5924

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              EricEric
              Keymaster

                Sense rolled case diary himself
                Distance says travelling nearly happens
                Lots wanted ignoring suddenly mass
                Slammed search rukshan messages locking
                Dusty careful liked floating ailill
                Vision jasper habit became lavatory
                Thick fair landed olli gold
                Love enjoying mavis shape lived
                Anxiety doubts army gecko

                #5845

                In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                AvatarJib
                Participant

                  Some whale random cloud :

                  Toilet needs seems makes takes
                  Happens lost died passing sister
                  Forgive nodded barely strange water
                  Everybody inspiration weather aunt forget
                  Fraud writer forgotten speed topic
                  Talked mostly mars dusted previous
                  Couch gargoyles coupons

                  It certainly is talking about something to be found at Jiborium’s Emporium with the coupons.

                  #5822

                  The evening helper said she was very sorry to tell me that my niece wouldn’t be able to make it this week, as she’d been on holiday and got quarantined.  You needn’t be sorry about that, I told her, I don’t know who she is anyway.  Not that I’m ungrateful, it’s very kind of her to come and visit me.  She tells me all about people I’ve never heard of, and I pretend to take an interest. I’m polite you see, brought up that way.

                  Then she said, you’ll have to go easy on the toilet paper, it’s all sold out. Panic buying, she said.

                  That’s what happens when people start shitting themselves with fear, I said, and she tutted at me as if I was a seven year old, the cheeky young whippersnapper.  And how shall I go easy on it, shall I crap outside behind the flat topped bushes under my window? Wipe my arse on a leaf?

                  Don’t be daft, you’d fall over, she replied crisply. She had a point.  My hip’s still playing me up, so my plans to escape are on hold. Not much point in it with all this quarantine nonsense going on anyway.   I might get rounded up and put in a tent by a faceless moron in a hazmat suit.  I must say the plague doctors outfits were much more stylish.  And there was no panic buying of loo rolls in those days either.

                  I don’t know what the world’s coming to. A handful of people with a cough and everyone loses their minds.  Then again, when the plague came, everyone lost their minds too. Not over toilet paper though.  We didn’t start losing our minds until the carts started rolling past every night full of the bodies.  No paper masks in those days either, we wound scarves around our faces because of the stench.

                  The worst thing was being locked in the house when the kitchen maid came down with it.  All of us, all of the nine children, my wife and her mother, the cook and the maids, all of us untouched, all but that one kitchen maid.  If only they’d taken her away, the rest of us might not have perished.  Not having enough food did us in, we were weakened with starvation. Shut in the house for weeks, with no escape.  Nothing to do but feast on the fears, like a smothering cloud. Like as not, we just gave up, and said, plague, carry me off, I can bear no more. I know after the youngest 6 children and the oldest boy died, I had no will to live.  I died before the wife did and felt a bit guilty about that, leaving her to face the rest of it alone.  She wasn’t happy about that, and who can blame her.

                  One thing for sure, it wasn’t running out of blasted toilet paper that was worrying me.

                  #5656

                  “You’ve lost weight” Rukshan said, not knowing where to start. The shaman thinner look was besuiting.

                  “So have you, my friend.” They both laughed.

                  “So what have been up to, in these parts of the woods?”

                  “It just happens that I was a bit ahead of you, and have just come back from the Great Austral Dry Lands.”

                  They all became somber. The Fires had devastated the place, and the news which came were not good. There was little chance they could put an expedition in place to gather the pink clay, with all this devastation… unless… He smiled.

                  “You’ve brought some back, haven’t you?”

                  Kumihimo smiled back. “Indeed. Not easy to come by, pink clay, isn’t it?”

                  Fox who had been turning his head right and left, and right and left following the conversation marked a moment, and the realization came.

                  “Does it mean we can revive Gorrash?”

                  “It may well be my dear Fox, with this last ingredient now gathered, it may well be.”

                  #5623

                  “Who can that be now!” exclaimed May as she made her way to the back door.  A flustered looking woman in odd looking mismatched clothes was standing on the door step.

                  I ’ave come to ’elp Finnley wiz ze bedding!” she said by way of introduction, “But I ‘ave lost my baby, ’ave you seen ’er? My name is Fanella.  I ’ave come to ’elp Finnley wiz ze bedding, but I must find my daughter first!”

                  “You’d better come in,” replied May, wondering what to do.  Until the right baby turned up, she could hardly give this woman her daughter back.  But the poor woman was distraught, and May wanted to ease her distress.  She would have to try to delay her somehow.

                  “There is no need to worry, er, Fanella, as it happens there is an unexpected baby girl visiting with the bosses son, but they are both fast asleep. They are quite safe, but I am not in a position to disturb them yet. Do sit down, you look exhausted.  Let me get you a drink.”

                  May handed her a glass of wine. “How on earth did you manage to lose your daughter?”

                  “I was just about to ring ze bell but I was so nervous I ’ad to pee so I ran quickly be’ind ze bushes. And when I ’ad finished, my baby was gone!” Fanella started to weep.

                  “Did you say you’d come to help Finnley in the bed?” Suddenly May started to wonder if this was another call girl for Mr August. Was he planning a threesome?

                  “Yes, I ’ave come to ’elp Finnley,” Fanella replied, “Wiz ze bedding.”

                  “And you brought your baby with you?”  aghast, May wondered what to do next. Maybe this woman shouldn’t be given the child back after all.  It had been a long night, with far too many babies.

                  #5594
                  prUneprUne
                  Participant

                    I’ve been checking old records those past few days. Yes, I know, not much ever happens, and I’ve got a lot of time on my hands between my studies. Anyway, I read something rather odd about a bit of rare magic… Sorry, getting carried away again, I mean, I found a passing mention of Jasper.

                    Guess, the letter is about our long lost brother that nobody ever mentioned. My sisters, with all of their flaws, which I don’t hate them for, have a keen sense of investigation. Must be in the genes, though it may have skipped over Aunt Dodo.

                    That, or they have just sent a copy of the Boynitch manuscript to sent her into a spin, that wouldn’t be a first.

                    #5585
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Aunt Idle:

                      The more they hounded me to open the letter, the less I wanted to.  I just wanted to dig my heels in at first, honestly when nothing ever happens for months and years on end, any little thing out of the ordinary is worth making a meal of.  But the longer it went on, the more uneasy I got. What if it was disappointing, somehow?  What if there was bad news, or news we didn’t want to hear that we wouldn’t be able to unhear, once we knew?  What if it was none of those things and just a few scribbles the child had done, or a hand print? It was like opening a Christmas present with a dozen people looking at your reaction when you open it. What if it was something that didn’t tell you anything? Maybe something quickly tied together in a rush with no particular meaning? Of course that would be a treasure to receive, what with communications being so non existent, but still, it would be an anti climax after all this anticipation.  What I wanted, I realized, was the complete story of everything that had happened since we last saw them. I wanted to know all about it.

                      EricEric
                      Keymaster

                        Pitch: June and April are two au pair middle-aged ladies with a penchant for lavish parties and copious drinking, who after being sacked from many places due to their poor manners and laisser-aller in their duties, have finally landed a dream job at the Washingtown Beige House, to take care of the often vacant whereabouts of the Lump Family, and chiefly of their baby Barron, the pride of Pres. Lump. The pay is nice, so long as they keep the Boss happy.
                        Their main concerns are the Indian maid Noor Mary (Norma) Chowdhury, who has a PhD in Social Studies, but has had difficulties finding a better job, and doesn’t see too well the intrusion of the new staff. They also have to deal with August, the chief of staff, who collects golf balls and pewter memorabilia from the Civil War.
                        They are unaware, but there biggest trial yet to come is a dangerous Mexican cartel on their way to kidnap baby Barron…

                        June felt like excitement, while April was more modestly quiet, currently absorbed in reading with horror the news about the fires; April had a sister there, married to an Australian and very fundamental Christian in her beliefs. Over the years, they’d stopped being able to communicate… Crazy to think about all the fires down there — and by down there, she didn’t mean down there, but rather down “down there.” Actually, it was a long time since there had been any fires there, if she didn’t count the last infection…

                        “Hold that thought…” June interrupted, while sipping her cognac. It was medicinal, she kept repeating to nobody in particular but herself, Back Blossom infusions to calm her nerves. They had to be kept in something, so why not cognac. “You did mention something about a party tonight? But what are we going to do about the baby?”

                        April did ponder for a second but the response was actually obvious. “Don’t worry about baby Barron, we’ll instruct the dog to keep guard, and I’ll put an EyeWatch on his wrist with your number on speed dial in case anything happens.”

                        “Brilliant! I wonder why I didn’t think of it myself. Let’s get ready. Really, that family is a blessing; never on our backs, always travelling everywhere, leaving us partying to all the fancy places in Washingtown. Sure, the only bother is to take care of these pesky kids.”

                        “True. All the maids and au pairs in the neighbourhood make for a good network. It’s a nice life.” April pondered and added. Although the Boss is a bit lewd, if you tell me.”

                        “Really? With his orange face and his five orders of periwigs?” June sounded surprised, and a bit disappointed not to have been able to notice.

                        “But the one we should really worry about is the maid, if you ask me. Good thing the boss can’t understand her English, otherwise she would have ratted us out long ago.”

                        June smiled mischievously. “Oh, but she better watch her six this one, you’ll leave her to me.”

                      Viewing 20 results - 1 through 20 (of 53 total)