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  • Oörlaith heard the sound of a barking dog not far from her rookery. They were back with his master, and she knew at once their mission was complete. A few months ago she had met a strange man, he told her he was called Leonard, and the funny black dog that was following him everywhere was called ... · ID #270 (continued)
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  • #6799

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    It seemed like their journey was ominously pregnant with untold possibilities. Well that’s what Xavier had said the team to break the lazy pattern that had started to bring their sense of adventure to a lull.
    “Please, no snotty baby possibilities!” had moaned Zara, stretching from her morning session of yoga with Yasmin.

    It was the morning of the third day since he’d arrived, and as they were enjoying the breakfast, the external elements seemed to have put a brake on the planned activities.

    :fleuron:

    On the previous evening, Mater, the dame of the Inn, had come in with a dramatic racing driver costume complete with burgundy red jacket and goggles to match. She’d seemed quite excited at the thought of racing at the Carts and Lager, but the younger child, Prune, had come in with weather forecast.

    “It’s on the local channel news. We have to brace for a chance of dust storm. It’s recommended to stay indoors during the next two days.”

    “WHAT?!” Zara couldn’t believe it. The thought of being cooped up in holidays! Then she lightened up a little when Yasmin mentioned the possibility of sand ghost pictures. She knew Zara well enough, that a good distraction was the remedy to most of her moods.

    Youssef had shrugged and told them of the time they were with the BLOG team at a snowy pass in Ladakh, and had to wait for the weather to clear the only pass back to the valley. He’s enjoyed learning how to make chapatis with the family on the small gas stove of the local place, and visited the local yurts. Zara’s eyes were suddenly full of wonders at the mere mention of yurts.

    Prune had then mentioned with a smirk. “If you guys want an adventure, I was planning to do some spring cleaning in the basement. There are tons of old books…. and some said maybe some secret entrance to the mines.”

    Zara’s spider sense was tingling almost orgasmically.

    Youssef said. “Well, I suppose that’s the best entertainment we’ll get for now…”

    :fleuron:

    At the morning breakfast table, they did a quick check of the news.

    “The situation isn’t getting any better. AL has confirmed it’s an unusual weather late in this season, but it’s also saying we should remain indoors.” Xavier was looking at his phone slouched on the table.

    “And they will cancel the first days of the Carts and Lager…” Zara was downcast.

    “Well, here’s a thought… the quest is still open in the game…”

    #6615

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    Like ships in the night, Zara and Yasmin still hadn’t met up with Xavier and Youssef at the inn. Yasmin was tired from traveling and retired to her room to catch up on some sleep, despite Zara’s hopes that they’d have a glass of wine or two and discuss whatever it was that was on Yasmins mind.  Zara decided to catch up on her game.

    The next quirk was “unleash your hidden rudeness” which gave Zara pause to consider how hidden her rudeness actually was.  But wait, it was the avatar Zara, not herself. Or was it?   Zara rearranged the pillows and settled herself on the bed.

    Zara found her game self in the bustling streets of a medieval market town, visually an improvement on the previous game level of the mines, which pleased her, with many colourful characters and intriguing alleyways and street market vendors.

    Madieval market

    She quickly forgot what her quest was and set off wandering around the scene.  Each alley led to a little square and each square had gaily coloured carts of wares for sale, and an abundance of grinning jesters and jugglers. Although tempted to linger and join the onlookers jeering and goading the jugglers and artistes that she encountered, Zara continued her ramble around the scene.

    She came to a gathering outside an old market hall, where two particularly raucous jesters were trying to tempt the onlookers into partaking of what appeared to be cups of tea.  Zara wondered what the joke was and why nobody in the crowd was willing to try.  She inched closer, attracting the attention of the odd grinning fellow in the orange head piece.

    Jesters with cups

     

    “Come hither, ye fine wench in thy uncomely scant garments, I know what thou seekest! Pray, sit thee down beside me and partake of my remedy.”

    “Who, me?” asked Zara, looking behind her to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else.

    “Thoust in dire need of my elixir, come ye hither!”

    Somewhat reluctantly Zara stepped towards the odd figure who was offering to hand her a cup.  She considered the inadvisability of drinking something that everyone else was refusing, but what the hell, she took the cup and saucer off him and took a hesitant sip.

    The crowd roared with laughter and there was much mirthful thigh slapping when Zara spit the foul tasting concoction all over the jesters shoes.

    “Believe me dame,” quoth the Jester, “I perceive proffered ware is worse by ten in the hundred than that which is sought. But I pray ye, tell me thy quest.”

    “My quest is none of your business, and your tea sucks, mister,” Zara replied. “But I like the cup.”

    Pushing past the still laughing onlookers and clutching the cup, Zara spotted a tavern on the opposite side of the square and made her way towards it.   A tankard of ale was what she needed to get rid of the foul taste lingering in her mouth.

    jesters cup tavern

     

    The inside of the tavern was as much a madhouse as the streets outside it. What was everyone laughing at? Zara found a place to sit on a bench beside a long wooden table. She sat patiently waiting to be served, trying to eavesdrop to decipher the cause of such merriment, but the snatches of conversation made no sense to her. The jollity was contagious, and before long Zara was laughing along with the others.  A strange child sat down on the opposite bench (she seemed familiar somehow) and Zara couldn’t help remarking, “You lot are as mad as a box of frogs, are you all on drugs or something?” which provoked further hoots of laughter, thigh slapping and table thumping.

    tavern girl

     

    “Ye be an ungodly rude maid, and ye’ll not get a tankard of ale while thoust leavest thy cup of elixir untasted yet,” the child said with a smirk.

    “And you are an impertinent child,” Zara replied, considering the potential benefits of drinking the remainder of the concoction if it would hasten the arrival of the tankard of ale she was now craving.  She gritted her teeth and picked up the cup.

    But the design on the cup had changed, and now bore a strange resemblance to Xavier.  Not only that, the cup was calling her name in Xavier’s voice, and the table thumping got louder.

    Xavi cup

     

    “Zara!” Xavier was knocking on her bedroom door. “Zara!  We’re going for a beer in the local tavern, are you coming?”

    “Xavi!”  Zara snapped back to reality, “Yes! I’m bloody parched.”

    #6547

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    On her way back to her room Zara picked up a leaflet off the hall table about the upcoming lager and cart race. Before starting the game she had a look through it.

    The leaflet also mentioned the competition  held annually each January in Port Lincoln. The Tunarama Festival was a competition to determine just how far a person could chuck a frozen tuna. A full-fledged celebration was centered around the event, complete with a wide array of arts and cultural displays, other participation events, local market stalls, and some of the freshest seafood in the world.

    There was unlikely to be any fresh seafood at the local lager and cart races, but judging from the photos of previous events, it looked colourful and well worth sticking around for, just for the photo opportunities.

    cart race 1

     

    Apparently the lager and cart races had started during the early days of the settler mining, and most of the carts used were relics from that era.  Competitors dressed up in costumes and colourful wigs, many of which were found in the abandoned houses of the local area.

    “The miners were a strange breed of men, but not all cut from the same cloth ~ they were daring outsiders, game for anything, adventurous rule breakers and outlaws with a penchant for extreme experience. Thus, outlandish and adventurous women ~ and men who were not interested in mining for gold in the usual sense ~ were magnetically drawn to the isolated outpost.  After a long dark day of restriction and confinement in the mines, the evenings were a time of colour and wild abandon; bright, garish, bizarre Burlesque events were popular. Strange though it may seem, the town had one of the most extensive wig and corset emporiums in the country, although it was discretely tucked away in the barn behind a mundane haberdashery shop.”

    The idea was to fill as many different receptacles with lager as possible, piling them onto the gaily decorated carts pulled by the costume clad participants.  As the carts were raced along the track, onlookers ran alongside to catch any jars or bottles that fell off the carts before they hit the ground. Many crashed to the ground and were broken, but if anyone caught one, they were obliged to drink the contents there and then before running after the carts to catch another one.

    Members of the public were encouraged to attend in fancy dress costumes and wigs.  There were plenty of stationary food vendors carts at the lager and cart races as well, and stalls and tents set up to sell trinkets.

    #6517

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    After Youssef retrieved his luggage in Alice Springs, he was swarmed with freelance tour guides trying to sell him trips. You would buy a ticket out of any one of them just to get rid of the others, he thought. With a few hungry growls, he managed to frighten most of them, with a touch of indifference he lost the rest. Except one. A short Indian looking man wearing a red cap and a moustache. He seemed to have an infinite talkative energy at his disposal, able to erode the strongest wills. The temperature was hotter than Youssef had expected, here it was the end of summer, and he was hungry. The man started to get on his nerves.

    The list of tours was endless. Uluru, scenic bushwalking trails, beautiful gardens, a historical tour, a costumed historical tour, a few national parks, and even his cousins’ restaurant. He reminded Youssef of his own father, always offering guests (and especially his visiting kids) another fruit, a pastry, some coffee, chocolate ? You sure you don’t want any chocolate? If the man was tenacious, Youssef had had training with his father. But this man seemed to mistake silence and indifference for agreement. Did he really think Youssef was going to buy one of his tours ?

    “The ghost town! You have to see Arltunga, said the man. An old mining ghost town, certainly an American like you like ghost towns. And buried treasure. Arltunga has buried treasure somewhere. You can find it. I know where to find a map.”

    Youssef wondered if it was another one of the game’s fluke that his quest was apparently bleeding into his real life again. And if there was a map, why hasn’t the treasure been found already? He checked at the back of his mind for the presence of that crazy old lady. Nope, not there. He decided to refuse the call this time. He just wanted to get to that F…ing Fish Inn in Crowshollow and meet with his friends.

    “NO, he growled, frightening a group of tourists passing by, but not the tour operator. No ghost town! We have plenty in America.” Thinking of the game and his last challenge for the previous quest, he said in desperation : “I just want to find a red scarf!” and he knew inside himself and many years attempting to resist his old man, that the short Indian man had won.

    “If you want to find a red scarf, you go to Silk Road, said the man bobbing his head. My cousin’s shop, you find everything there only.”

    Youssef sighed. He thought there were only two ways to take it. The first one was that he had fallen into a trap and try to find a way to get out of it. But it might be sticky and uncomfortable for everyone. So he decided it was the other way around and that it was part of the game. Why wouldn’t he use this as an opportunity for adventure. Wasn’t that what Xavier always said about roads less traveled ?

    “Where is your cousin’s shop? he asked. And where’s that restaurant of your cousin’s? I’m starving.”

    The little man smiled broadly.

    “Same place. Two brothers. Shop next to restaurant in Todd Mall. You’re lucky! Follow me.”

    #6494

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    Although not one to remember dreams very often, Zara awoke the next morning with vivid and colourful dream recall.  She wondered if it was something to do with the dreamtime mural on the wall of her room.  If this turned out to be the case, she considered painting some murals on her bedroom wall back at the Bungwalley Valley animal rescue centre when she got home.

    Zara and Idle had hit it off immediately, chatting and laughing on the verandah after supper.   Idle told her a bit about the local area and the mines.  Despite Bert’s warnings, she wanted to see them. They were only an hour away from the inn.

    When she retired to her room for the night, she looked on the internet for more information. The more she read online about the mines, the more intrigued she became.

    “Interestingly there are no actual houses left from the original township. The common explanation is that a rumour spread that there was gold hidden in the walls of the houses and consequently they were knocked down by people believing there was ‘gold in them there walls”. Of course it was only a rumour. No gold was found.”

    “Miners attracted to the area originally by the garnets, found alluvial and reef gold at Arltunga…”

    Garnets!  Zara recalled the story her friend had told her about finding a cursed garnet near a fort in St Augustine in Florida.  Apparently there were a number of mines that one could visit:

    “the MacDonnell Range Reef Mine, the Christmas Reef Mine, the Golden Chance Mine, the Joker Mine and the Great Western Mine all of which are worth a visit.”

    Zara imagined Xavier making a crack about the Joker Mine, and wondered why it had been named that.

    “The whole area is preserved as though the inhabitants simply walked away from it only yesterday. The curious visitor who walks just a little way off the paths will see signs of previous habitation. Old pieces of meat safes, pieces of rusted wire, rusted cans, and pieces of broken glass litter the ground. There is nothing of great importance but each little shard is reminder of the people who once lived and worked here.”

    I wonder if Bert will take me there, Zara wondered. If not, maybe one of the others can pick up a hire car when they arrive at Alice.   Might even be best not to tell anyone at the inn where they were going.  Funny coincidence the nearest town was called Alice ~ it was already beginning to seem like some kind of rabbit hole she was falling into.

    Undecided whether to play some more of the game which had ended abruptly upon encountering the blue robed vendor, Zara decided not to and picked up the book on Dreamtime that was on the bedside table.

    “Some of the ancestors or spirit beings inhabiting the Dreamtime become one with parts of the landscape, such as rocks or trees…”  Flicking through the book, she read random excerpts.   “A mythic map of Australia would show thousands of characters, varying in their importance, but all in some way connected with the land. Some emerged at their specific sites and stayed spiritually in that vicinity. Others came from somewhere else and went somewhere else. Many were shape changing, transformed from or into human beings or natural species, or into natural features such as rocks but all left something of their spiritual essence at the places noted in their stories….”

    Thousands of characters. Zara smiled sleepily, recalling the many stories she and her friends had written together over the years.

    “People come and go but the Land, and stories about the Land, stay. This is a wisdom that takes lifetimes of listening, observing and experiencing … There is a deep understanding of human nature and the environment… sites hold ‘feelings’ which cannot be described in physical terms… subtle feelings that resonate through the bodies of these people… It is only when talking and being with these people that these ‘feelings’ can truly be appreciated. This is… the intangible reality of these people…..”

    With such strong ancestral connections to the land, Zara couldn’t help but wonder what the aboriginal people felt about all the mines.   If one of their ancestors had shape changed into rocks, and then some foreignors came along and hacked and blasted their way through, what would they think of that?

    “….many Aboriginal groups widely distributed across the Australian continent all appeared to share variations of a single (common) myth telling of an unusually powerful, often creative, often dangerous snake or serpent of sometimes enormous size closely associated with the rainbows, rain, rivers, and deep waterholes…..”

    She drifted off to sleep thinking of water holes in red rocky gorges, the book laying open in her hand.

    When she awoke the next morning with the slatted morning sun shining through the venetian blinds,  the dream image of the water hole was bright and clear in her minds eye.  But what was that strange character from the game doing in her dream?

    Osnas dreamtime waterhole

     

    She closed her eyes, remembering more of the strange dream.  Deeply orange red boulders and rocky outcrops, shivering gum trees, and green pools ~ it was coming back to her now, that creature in the blue robes had appeared more than once.  In one scene he appeared with a blue diamond lantern with what looked like a compass inside.

    Osnas lantern compass

    I’ll ask about the hiking trails today, Zara decided, and go for a walk in that gorge I read about yesterday. Bert said there were good hiking trails.   You came here early so you could play the game, she reminded herself.

    “It’s all a game,” she heard the parrot outside her window.

    “I’d forgotten about the bloody parrot!” Zara said under her breath. “Pretty Girl!” she said, opening the blinds. “We’re going out for a walk today.”

    #6472
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Salomé: Using the new trans-dimensional array, Jorid, plot course to a new other-dimensional exploration

      Georges (comments): “New realms of consciousness, extravagant creatures expected, dragons least of them!” He winked “May that be a warning for whoever wants to follow in our steps”.

      The Jorid:  Ready for departure.

      Salomé: Plot coordinates quadrant AVB 34-7•8 – Cosmic time triangulation congruent to 2023 AD Earth era. Quantum drive engaged.

      Jorid: Departure initiated. Entering interdimensional space. Standby for quantum leap.

      Salomé (sighing): Please analyse subspace signatures, evidences of life forms in the quadrant.

      Jorid: Scanning subspace signatures. Detecting multiple life forms in the AVB 34-7•8 quadrant. Further analysis required to determine intelligence and potential danger.

      Salomé: Jorid, engage human interaction mode, with conversational capabilities and extrapolate please!

      Jorid: Engaging human interaction mode. Ready for conversation. What would you like to know or discuss?

      Georges: We currently have amassed quite a number of tiles. How many Salomé?

      Salomé: Let me check. I think about 47 of them last I count. I didn’t insert the auto-generated ones, they were of lesser quality and seemed to interfere with the navigational array landing us always in expected places already travelled.

      Georges: Léonard has been missing for 4 months.

      Salomé: you mean by our count, right?

      Georges: Right. We need to find him to readjust or correct the navigational array. Jorid, give us statistical probabilities that we can use as clues to his current potential locations.

      Jorid: Calculating statistical probabilities for Léonard’s location. It would be helpful to have more information, such as known destinations or areas of interest, to increase accuracy of probabilities.

      Salomé: Jorid is in a lazy mood it seems. I preferred her more chatty.

      Georges: You mean “him”, surely dear?

      Salomé: (rolls eyes)

      Georges: Anyway, Léonard seemed interested in archaeological finds in recent excavated tombs near the sand deserts of Bluhm’Oxl in the Zathu sector.

      Jorid: Analyzing data on archaeological finds near the sand deserts of Bluhm’Oxl in the Zathu sector. Probability of Léonard being in the area is calculated at 43%. Shall I plot a course to Bluhm’Oxl for further investigation?

      Salomé (loosing patience): Please engage your quantum capacities to access more data. We built you to be a bit more helpful than a bloody computer.

      Georges laughed: I remembered you had more patience, dear!

      Salomé: She’s in a mood today, isn’t she. What did you do to her?

      Georges (cunningly): Jorid, sweet thing, please provide more details about the area, the populations, the customs the whole gamut dammit, and potential territorial conflicts in the vicinity. And be more chatty to please Salomé.

      Jorid: Of course, I apologize for my previous responses. Analyzing data on the sand deserts of Bluhm’Oxl in the Zathu sector, including information on populations, customs, territorial conflicts and other relevant details. The area is known for its rich history and cultural heritage, with several ancient tombs and ruins attracting archaeological interest. The main population is composed of the Zathu nomads, known for their hospitality and trading skills. There are no known territorial conflicts in the area, but it is advised to exercise caution while traveling as the deserts can be treacherous.

      Georges (laughs): You can’t stop her know!

      Salomé (smiles noticing the “her”): Well, that doesn’t tell too much, does it. How shall we proceed? Need to synthetise some local clothes, or are you back to your thieving habits (pun intended)?

      Georges: Haha, always ready for a good adventure. It seems we’ll have to do some research on the ground. As for the clothes, I’ll leave that to you my dear. Your sense of style never fails to impress. Let’s make sure to blend in with the locals and avoid drawing any unnecessary attention. The goal is to find Léonard, not get into trouble.

      #6423

      In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Zara’s first quest:

        entry level quirk: wandering off the track

        The initial setting for this quest is a dense forest, where the paths are overgrown and rarely traveled. You find yourself alone and disoriented, with only a rough map and a compass to guide you.

        Possible directions to investigate include:

        Following a faint trail of footprints that lead deeper into the forest

        Climbing a tall tree to get a better view of the surrounding area

        Searching for a stream or river to use as a guide to find your way out of the forest

        Possible characters to engage include:

        A mysterious hermit who lives deep in the forest and is rumored to know the secrets of the land

        A lost traveler who is also trying to find their way out of the forest

        A group of bandits who have taken refuge in the forest and may try to steal from you or cause harm

        Your objective is to find the Wanderlust tile, a small, intricately carved wooden tile depicting a person walking off the beaten path. This tile holds the key to unlocking your inner quirk of wandering off the track.

        As proof of your progress in the game, you must find a way to incorporate this quirk into your real-life actions by taking a spontaneous detour on your next journey, whether it be physical or mental.

        For Zara’s quest:

        As you wander off the track, you come across a strange-looking building in the distance. Upon closer inspection, you realize it is the Flying Fish Inn. As you enter, you are greeted by the friendly owner, Idle. She tells you that she has heard of strange occurrences happening in the surrounding area and offers to help you in your quest

        Emoji clue:  🐈🌳 :cat_confused:

         

        Zara (the character in the game)

        characteristics from previous prompts:

        Zara is the leader of the group  :yahoo_thinking:  she is confident, and always ready for an adventure. She is a natural leader and has a strong sense of justice. She is also a tech-savvy person, always carrying a variety of gadgets with her, and is always the first to try out new technology.

        Zara is the leader of the group, her color is red, her animal is a lion, and her secret name in a funny language is “Zaraloon”

         

        Zara (the real life story character)

        characteristics from previous prompts:

        Zara Patara-Smythe is a 57-year-old woman of mixed heritage, her mother is Indian and her father is British. She has long, dark hair that she keeps in an untidy ponytail, dark brown eyes and a sharp jawline. She stands at 5’6″ and has a toned and athletic build. She usually wears practical clothing that allows her to move around easily, such as cargo pants and a tank top.

        prompt quest:

        Continue to investigate the mysterious cat she saw, possibly seeking out help from local animal experts or veterinarians.
        Join Xavier and Yasmin in investigating the Flying Fish Inn, looking for clues and exploring the area for any potential leads on the game’s quest.

        #6419

        In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

        “I’d advise you not to take the parrot, Zara,” Harry the vet said, “There are restrictions on bringing dogs and other animals into state parks, and you can bet some jobsworth official will insist she stays in a cage at the very least.”

        “Yeah, you’re right, I guess I’ll leave her here. I want to call in and see my cousin in Camden on the way to the airport in Sydney anyway.   He has dozens of cats, I’d hate for anything to happen to Pretty Girl,” Zara replied.

        “Is that the distant cousin you met when you were doing your family tree?” Harry asked, glancing up from the stitches he was removing from a wounded wombat.  “There, he’s good to go.  Give him a couple more days, then he can be released back where he came from.”

        Zara smiled at Harry as she picked up the animal. “Yes!  We haven’t met in person yet, and he’s going to show me the church my ancestor built. He says people have been spotting ghosts there lately, and there are rumours that it’s the ghost of the old convict Isaac who built it.  If I can’t find photos of the ancestors, maybe I can get photos of their ghosts instead,” Zara said with a laugh.

        “Good luck with that,” Harry replied raising an eyebrow. He liked Zara, she was quirkier than the others.

        Zara hadn’t found it easy to research her mothers family from Bangalore in India, but her fathers English family had been easy enough.  Although Zara had been born in England and emigrated to Australia in her late 20s, many of her ancestors siblings had emigrated over several generations, and Zara had managed to trace several down and made contact with a few of them.   Isaac Stokes wasn’t a direct ancestor, he was the brother of her fourth great grandfather but his story had intrigued her.  Sentenced to transportation for stealing tools for his work as a stonemason seemed to have worked in his favour.  He built beautiful stone buildings in a tiny new town in the 1800s in the charming style of his home town in England.

        Zara planned to stay in Camden for a couple of days before meeting the others at the Flying Fish Inn, anticipating a pleasant visit before the crazy adventure started.

         

        ~~~

         

        Zara stepped down from the bus, squinting in the bright sunlight and looking around for her newfound cousin  Bertie.   A lanky middle aged man in dungarees and a red baseball cap came forward with his hand extended.

        “Welcome to Camden, Zara I presume! Great to meet you!” he said shaking her hand and taking her rucksack.  Zara was taken aback to see the family resemblance to her grandfather.  So many scattered generations and yet there was still a thread of familiarity.  “I bet you’re hungry, let’s go and get some tucker at Belle’s Cafe, and then I bet you want to see the church first, hey?  Whoa, where’d that dang parrot come from?” Bertie said, ducking quickly as the bird swooped right in between them.

        “Oh no, it’s Pretty Girl!” exclaimed Zara. “She wasn’t supposed to come with me, I didn’t bring her! How on earth did you fly all this way to get here the same time as me?” she asked the parrot.

        “Pretty Girl has her ways, don’t forget to feed the parrot,” the bird replied with a squalk that resembled a mirthful guffaw.

        “That’s one strange parrot you got here, girl!” Bertie said in astonishment.

        “Well, seeing as you’re here now, Pretty Girl, you better come with us,” Zara said.

        “Obviously,” replied Pretty Girl.  It was hard to say for sure, but Zara was sure she detected an avian eye roll.

         

        ~~~

         

        They sat outside under a sunshade to eat rather than cause any upset inside the cafe.  Zara fancied an omelette but Pretty Girl objected, so she ordered hash browns instead and a fruit salad for the parrot.  Bertie was a good sport about the strange talking bird after his initial surprise.

        Bertie told her a bit about the ghost sightings, which had only started quite recently.  They started when I started researching him, Zara thought to herself, almost as if he was reaching out. Her imagination was running riot already.

         

        ghost of Isaac Stokes

         

        Bertie showed Zara around the church, a small building made of sandstone, but no ghost appeared in the bright heat of the afternoon.  He took her on a little tour of Camden, once a tiny outpost but now a suburb of the city, pointing out all the original buildings, in particular the ones that Isaac had built.  The church was walking distance of Bertie’s house and Zara decided to slip out and stroll over there after everyone had gone to bed.

        Bertie had kindly allowed Pretty Girl to stay in the guest bedroom with her, safe from the cats, and Zara intended that the parrot stay in the room, but Pretty Girl was having none of it and insisted on joining her.

        “Alright then, but no talking!  I  don’t want you scaring any ghost away so just keep a low profile!”

        The moon was nearly full and it was a pleasant walk to the church.   Pretty Girl fluttered from tree to tree along the sidewalk quietly.  Enchanting aromas of exotic scented flowers wafted into her nostrils and Zara felt warmly relaxed and optimistic.

        Zara was disappointed to find that the church was locked for the night, and realized with a sigh that she should have expected this to be the case.  She wandered around the outside, trying to peer in the windows but there was nothing to be seen as the glass reflected the street lights.   These things are not done in a hurry, she reminded herself, be patient.

        Sitting under a tree on the grassy lawn attempting to open her mind to receiving ghostly communications (she wasn’t quite sure how to do that on purpose, any ghosts she’d seen previously had always been accidental and unexpected)  Pretty Girl landed on her shoulder rather clumsily, pressing something hard and chill against her cheek.

        “I told you to keep a low profile!” Zara hissed, as the parrot dropped the key into her lap.  “Oh! is this the key to the church door?”

        It was hard to see in the dim light but Zara was sure the parrot nodded, and was that another avian eye roll?

        Zara walked slowly over the grass to the church door, tingling with anticipation.   Pretty Girl hopped along the ground behind her.  She turned the key in the lock and slowly pushed open the heavy door and walked inside and  up the central aisle, looking around.  And then she saw him.

        Zara gasped. For a breif moment as the spectral wisps cleared, he looked almost solid.  And she could see his tattoos.

        “Oh my god,” she whispered, “It is really you. I recognize those tattoos from the description in the criminal registers. Some of them anyway, it seems you have a few more tats since you were transported.”

        “Aye, I did that, wench. I were allays fond o’ me tats, does tha like ’em?”

        He actually spoke to me!  This was beyond Zara’s wildest hopes. Quick, ask him some questions!

        “If you don’t mind me asking, Isaac, why did you lie about who your father was on your marriage register?  I almost thought it wasn’t you, you know, that I had the wrong Isaac Stokes.”

        A deafening rumbling laugh filled the building with echoes and the apparition dispersed in a labyrinthine swirl of tattood wisps.

        “A story for another day,” whispered Zara,  “Time to go back to Berties. Come on Pretty Girl. And put that key back where you found it.”

         

        Ghost of Isaac Stokes

        #6381

        In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Tell me more about the clues that Zara, Youssef, Xavier and Yasmin will find on their journeys to discover their inner quirky natures

          As Zara, Youssef, Xavier and Yasmin journeyed through the Land of the Quirks to discover their inner quirky natures, they encountered various clues that helped them on their journey.

          One of the clues they found was a mysterious map that led them to different locations, each one representing a different aspect of their personalities. The map also had various riddles and puzzles that they had to solve in order to progress to the next location.

          Another clue they found was a series of journal entries written by a previous explorer who had also journeyed through the Land of the Quirks. The journal entries provided insight and wisdom on how to navigate the land and how to understand and accept one’s quirks.

          They also encountered a group of strange and eccentric characters who each represented a different aspect of their personalities. These characters provided guidance and helped them understand different parts of themselves. They also helped them understand the importance of accepting and embracing their quirks.

          They also found a series of symbols and artifacts that represented different parts of their personalities. These symbols and artifacts were like puzzle pieces that, when put together, helped them understand the bigger picture of their inner quirky natures.

          As they continued their journey, they also learned that the key to discovering their inner quirky natures was not only about finding the physical “Key of Quirks”, but also about understanding and accepting themselves, their faults and their strengths, and learning to embrace their unique quirks.

           

          Finding their inner quirks sounds quite definitive. how would you make the ending more open-ended, open to multiple series and iterations of the story without sounding repetitive

          As Zara, Youssef, Xavier and Yasmin journeyed through the Land of the Quirks, they discovered their inner quirky natures, but the journey was far from over. They found that their inner quirks were constantly evolving and changing, and that the Land of the Quirks was a vast and mysterious place with many more secrets to uncover.

          The group found that the “Key of Quirks” was not just a physical object but a symbol of self-discovery and self-acceptance. They learned that understanding and accepting oneself is a lifelong journey that never truly ends.

          As they returned to their own world, they realized that they had gained a new perspective on life and that they would continue to carry the lessons they learned in the Land of the Quirks with them. They knew that they would always be on the lookout for new adventures and opportunities to continue exploring themselves and the world around them.

          The group’s journey in the Land of the Quirks had come to an end but the story was not over. The characters would continue to grow, evolve and change as they experienced new adventures, challenges and self-discoveries. The ending was open-ended and leaves the possibility for multiple series and iterations of the story, each one exploring new aspects of the characters and the Land of the Quirks, without being repetitive.

          Will they go a try to travel through another of the orbs?

          It is possible that the group will want to explore other orbs and realms in the Land of the Quirks. The Land of the Quirks is described as a vast and mysterious place with many secrets to uncover, so the possibility of traveling through other orbs or realms is open. They may be tempted to see what other adventures and discoveries await them in these new places.

          Alternatively, they might decide to take a break from their adventures, and reflect on what they’ve learned, applying it to their daily life, and maybe in the future, they will decide to come back to the Land of the Quirks and explore other orbs, or they may find other means of self-discovery and self-acceptance. In any case, the story leaves it open-ended and the characters have the freedom to choose what they want to do next.

          How did they discover the orb in the first place?

          It is not specified how the group discovered the orb in the first place. It could be that they stumbled upon it while on a hike or a camping trip, or it could be that they were on a mission to find it specifically. It could also be that the orb was something that had always been there but had gone unnoticed until one of the group members stumbled upon it.

          Perhaps it was passed down from generation to generation as a legend, or maybe they found it while they were searching for something else. The story leaves it open-ended and it’s up to the reader’s imagination. The main focus of the story is on the journey and the lessons learned along the way, rather than the specifics of how the orb was discovered.

          #6365
          matermater
          Participant

            Prune has got me into this AI stuff… It sounds like gibberish to me, but Idle sounded amazed at the stuff it spewed out.

            With some info on our family story, Prune got it to try and predict the future…

            Sounds like a big plate of bog, but we’ll see how it goes.

            Sure, here are a few possible events that could occur between Mater’s 100th birthday and her death in the Flying Fish Inn story:

            1. Mater decides to throw herself a grand birthday party, inviting all of her friends and family from the small outback town. However, things take a turn for the strange when a group of extraterrestrial beings crash the party and reveal themselves to be long-time fans of Mater’s famous bush tucker cuisine.
            2. Mater begins to experience vivid dreams and hallucinations, in which she is visited by the ghost of her late husband. As the dreams become more frequent, the family begins to suspect that there may be something more to them than just Mater’s mind playing tricks on her.
            3. Mater’s granddaughter Prune becomes increasingly obsessed with her dream of traveling to Mars, and begins to notice strange occurrences happening around the inn that seem to be connected to her aspiration.
            4. A group of eccentric scientists arrive at the inn, conducting research on the local flora and fauna. They eventually discover a species of sentient plants living in the area, and Mater becomes convinced that the plants are communicating with her in her dreams.
            5. With her health declining, Mater begins to spend more and more time tending to her garden, where she is visited by an old kookaburra who seems to possess an otherworldly intelligence. The bird becomes Mater’s companion and confidant in the final days of her life.
            6. As the Great Fires ravage the Australian bush, Mater makes the difficult decision to shut down the inn and evacuate the guests. But as they flee, they realize that the fire is not just a natural disaster, but something far more sinister and mystical.
            7. In her final days, Mater begins to remember strange and vivid details of her life that she never could have known, as if she lived a previous life in another time and place. As she dies, she whispers something to Prune, which opens her eyes to a new reality that may have been hidden from her all along
            8. It turns out the family had a lot of secrets, and the only way to escape it, was to leave the inn, but it was not an escape for all. Through the series of events, secrets are revealed, and some truths cannot be undone.Note that these events are fictional and whimsical in nature, but as they keeps it grounded to a sense of doldrums in the Australian bush and occasionally guests help to unravel some of the overarching mysteries it could make a fitting storyline for the story.
            #6345
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Crime and Punishment in Tetbury

               

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

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

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

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

               

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

              Richard had been fined a number of times in Tetbury:

              Richard Browning

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

               

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

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

               

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

              Thomas did however neglect to pay his taxes in 1832:

              Thomas Buckingham

               

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

               

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

              John Buckingham

               

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

               

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

               

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

              #6336
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                The Hamstall Ridware Connection

                Stubbs and Woods

                Hamstall RidwareHamstall Ridware

                 

                 

                Charles Tomlinson‘s (1847-1907) wife Emma Grattidge (1853-1911) was born in Wolverhampton, the daughter and youngest child of William Grattidge (1820-1887) born in Foston, Derbyshire, and Mary Stubbs (1819-1880), born in Burton on Trent, daughter of Solomon Stubbs.

                Solomon Stubbs (1781-1857) was born in Hamstall Ridware in 1781, the son of Samuel and Rebecca.  Samuel Stubbs (1743-) and Rebecca Wood (1754-) married in 1769 in Darlaston.  Samuel and Rebecca had six other children, all born in Darlaston. Sadly four of them died in infancy. Son John was born in 1779 in Darlaston and died two years later in Hamstall Ridware in 1781, the same year that Solomon was born there.

                But why did they move to Hamstall Ridware?

                Samuel Stubbs was born in 1743 in Curdworth, Warwickshire (near to Birmingham).  I had made a mistake on the tree (along with all of the public trees on the Ancestry website) and had Rebecca Wood born in Cheddleton, Staffordshire.  Rebecca Wood from Cheddleton was also born in 1843, the right age for the marriage.  The Rebecca Wood born in Darlaston in 1754 seemed too young, at just fifteen years old at the time of the marriage.  I couldn’t find any explanation for why a woman from Cheddleton would marry in Darlaston and then move to Hamstall Ridware.  People didn’t usually move around much other than intermarriage with neighbouring villages, especially women.  I had a closer look at the Darlaston Rebecca, and did a search on her father William Wood.  I found his 1784 will online in which he mentions his daughter Rebecca, wife of Samuel Stubbs.  Clearly the right Rebecca Wood was the one born in Darlaston, which made much more sense.

                An excerpt from William Wood’s 1784 will mentioning daughter Rebecca married to Samuel Stubbs:

                Wm Wood will

                 

                But why did they move to Hamstall Ridware circa 1780?

                I had not intially noticed that Solomon Stubbs married again the year after his wife Phillis Lomas (1787-1844) died.  Solomon married Charlotte Bell in 1845 in Burton on Trent and on the marriage register, Solomon’s father Samuel Stubbs occupation was mentioned: Samuel was a buckle maker.

                Marriage of Solomon Stubbs and Charlotte Bell, father Samuel Stubbs buckle maker:

                Samuel Stubbs buckle maker

                 

                A rudimentary search on buckle making in the late 1700s provided a possible answer as to why Samuel and Rebecca left Darlaston in 1781.  Shoe buckles had gone out of fashion, and by 1781 there were half as many buckle makers in Wolverhampton as there had been previously.

                “Where there were 127 buckle makers at work in Wolverhampton, 68 in Bilston and 58 in Birmingham in 1770, their numbers had halved in 1781.”

                via “historywebsite”(museum/metalware/steel)

                Steel buckles had been the height of fashion, and the trade became enormous in Wolverhampton.  Wolverhampton was a steel working town, renowned for its steel jewellery which was probably of many types.  The trade directories show great numbers of “buckle makers”.  Steel buckles were predominantly made in Wolverhampton: “from the late 1760s cut steel comes to the fore, from the thriving industry of the Wolverhampton area”. Bilston was also a great centre of buckle making, and other areas included Walsall. (It should be noted that Darlaston, Walsall, Bilston and Wolverhampton are all part of the same area)

                In 1860, writing in defence of the Wolverhampton Art School, George Wallis talks about the cut steel industry in Wolverhampton.  Referring to “the fine steel workers of the 17th and 18th centuries” he says: “Let them remember that 100 years ago [sc. c. 1760] a large trade existed with France and Spain in the fine steel goods of Birmingham and Wolverhampton, of which the latter were always allowed to be the best both in taste and workmanship.  … A century ago French and Spanish merchants had their houses and agencies at Birmingham for the purchase of the steel goods of Wolverhampton…..The Great Revolution in France put an end to the demand for fine steel goods for a time and hostile tariffs finished what revolution began”.

                 

                The next search on buckle makers, Wolverhampton and Hamstall Ridware revealed an unexpected connecting link.

                In Riotous Assemblies: Popular Protest in Hanoverian England by Adrian Randall:

                Riotous Assembles

                Hamstall Ridware

                In Walsall in 1750 on “Restoration Day” a crowd numbering 300 assembled, mostly buckle makers,  singing  Jacobite songs and other rebellious and riotous acts.  The government was particularly worried about a curious meeting known as the “Jubilee” in Hamstall Ridware, which may have been part of a conspiracy for a Jacobite uprising.

                 

                But this was thirty years before Samuel and Rebecca moved to Hamstall Ridware and does not help to explain why they moved there around 1780, although it does suggest connecting links.

                Rebecca’s father, William Wood, was a brickmaker.  This was stated at the beginning of his will.  On closer inspection of the will, he was a brickmaker who owned four acres of brick kilns, as well as dwelling houses, shops, barns, stables, a brewhouse, a malthouse, cattle and land.

                A page from the 1784 will of William Wood:

                will Wm Wood

                 

                The 1784 will of William Wood of Darlaston:

                I William Wood the elder of Darlaston in the county of Stafford, brickmaker, being of sound and disposing mind memory and understanding (praised be to god for the same) do make publish and declare my last will and testament in manner and form following (that is to say) {after debts and funeral expense paid etc} I give to my loving wife Mary the use usage wear interest and enjoyment of all my goods chattels cattle stock in trade ~ money securities for money personal estate and effects whatsoever and wheresoever to hold unto her my said wife for and during the term of her natural life providing she so long continues my widow and unmarried and from or after her decease or intermarriage with any future husband which shall first happen.

                Then I give all the said goods chattels cattle stock in trade money securites for money personal estate and effects unto my son Abraham Wood absolutely and forever. Also I give devise and bequeath unto my said wife Mary all that my messuages tenement or dwelling house together with the malthouse brewhouse barn stableyard garden and premises to the same belonging situate and being at Darlaston aforesaid and now in my own possession. Also all that messuage tenement or dwelling house together with the shop garden and premises with the appurtenances to the same ~ belonging situate in Darlaston aforesaid and now in the several holdings or occupation of George Knowles and Edward Knowles to hold the aforesaid premises and every part thereof with the appurtenances to my said wife Mary for and during the term of her natural life provided she so long continues my widow and unmarried. And from or after her decease or intermarriage with a future husband which shall first happen. Then I give and devise the aforesaid premises and every part thereof with the appurtenances unto my said son Abraham Wood his heirs and assigns forever.

                Also I give unto my said wife all that piece or parcel of land or ground inclosed and taken out of Heath Field in the parish of Darlaston aforesaid containing four acres or thereabouts (be the same more or less) upon which my brick kilns erected and now in my own possession. To hold unto my said wife Mary until my said son Abraham attains his age of twenty one years if she so long continues my widow and unmarried as aforesaid and from and immediately after my said son Abraham attaining his age of twenty one years or my said wife marrying again as aforesaid which shall first happen then I give the said piece or parcel of land or ground and premises unto my said son Abraham his heirs and assigns forever.

                And I do hereby charge all the aforesaid premises with the payment of the sum of twenty pounds a piece to each of my daughters namely Elizabeth the wife of Ambrose Dudall and Rebecca the wife of Samuel Stubbs which said sum of twenty pounds each I devise may be paid to them by my said son Abraham when and so soon as he attains his age of twenty one years provided always and my mind and will is that if my said son Abraham should happen to depart this life without leaving issue of his body lawfully begotten before he attains his age of twenty one years then I give and devise all the aforesaid premises and every part thereof with the appurtenances so given to my said son Abraham as aforesaid unto my said son William Wood and my said daughter Elizabeth Dudall and Rebecca Stubbs their heirs and assigns forever equally divided among them share and share alike as tenants in common and not as joint tenants. And lastly I do hereby nominate constitute and appoint my said wife Mary and my said son Abraham executrix and executor of this my will.

                 

                 

                The marriage of William Wood (1725-1784) and Mary Clews (1715-1798) in 1749 was in Hamstall Ridware.

                Wm Wood Mary Clews

                 

                Mary was eleven years Williams senior, and it appears that they both came from Hamstall Ridware and moved to Darlaston after they married. Clearly Rebecca had extended family there (notwithstanding any possible connecting links between the Stubbs buckle makers of Darlaston and the Hamstall Ridware Jacobites thirty years prior).  When the buckle trade collapsed in Darlaston, they likely moved to find employment elsewhere, perhaps with the help of Rebecca’s family.

                I have not yet been able to find deaths recorded anywhere for either Samuel or Rebecca (there are a couple of deaths recorded for a Samuel Stubbs, one in 1809 in Wolverhampton, and one in 1810 in Birmingham but impossible to say which, if either, is the right one with the limited information, and difficult to know if they stayed in the Hamstall Ridware area or perhaps moved elsewhere)~ or find a reason for their son Solomon to be in Burton upon Trent, an evidently prosperous man with several properties including an earthenware business, as well as a land carrier business.

                #6324
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  STONE MANOR

                   

                  Hildred Orgill Warren born in 1900, my grandmothers sister, married Reginald Williams in Stone, Worcestershire in March 1924. Their daughter Joan was born there in October of that year.

                  Hildred was a chaffeur on the 1921 census, living at home in Stourbridge with her father (my great grandfather) Samuel Warren, mechanic. I recall my grandmother saying that Hildred was one of the first lady chauffeurs. On their wedding certificate, Reginald is also a chauffeur.

                  1921 census, Stourbridge:

                  Hildred 1921

                   

                  Hildred and Reg worked at Stone Manor.  There is a family story of Hildred being involved in a car accident involving a fatality and that she had to go to court.

                  Stone Manor is in a tiny village called Stone, near Kidderminster, Worcestershire. It used to be a private house, but has been a hotel and nightclub for some years. We knew in the family that Hildred and Reg worked at Stone Manor and that Joan was born there. Around 2007 Joan held a family party there.

                  Stone Manor, Stone, Worcestershire:

                  stone manor

                   

                   

                  I asked on a Kidderminster Family Research group about Stone Manor in the 1920s:

                  “the original Stone Manor burnt down and the current building dates from the early 1920’s and was built for James Culcheth Hill, completed in 1926”
                  But was there a fire at Stone Manor?
                  “I’m not sure there was a fire at the Stone Manor… there seems to have been a fire at another big house a short distance away and it looks like stories have crossed over… as the dates are the same…”

                   

                  JC Hill was one of the witnesses at Hildred and Reginalds wedding in Stone in 1924. K Warren, Hildreds sister Kay, was the other:

                  Hildred and Reg marriage

                   

                  I searched the census and electoral rolls for James Culcheth Hill and found him at the Stone Manor on the 1929-1931 electoral rolls for Stone, and Hildred and Reginald living at The Manor House Lodge, Stone:

                  Hildred Manor Lodge

                   

                  On the 1911 census James Culcheth Hill was a 12 year old student at Eastmans Royal Naval Academy, Northwood Park, Crawley, Winchester. He was born in Kidderminster in 1899. On the same census page, also a student at the school, is Reginald Culcheth Holcroft, born in 1900 in Stourbridge.  The unusual middle name would seem to indicate that they might be related.

                  A member of the Kidderminster Family Research group kindly provided this article:

                  stone manor death

                   

                   

                  SHOT THROUGH THE TEMPLE

                  Well known Worcestershire man’s tragic death.

                  Dudley Chronicle 27 March 1930.

                  Well known in Worcestershire, especially the Kidderminster district, Mr Philip Rowland Hill MA LLD who was mayor of Kidderminster in 1907 was found dead with a bullet wound through his temple on board his yacht, anchored off Cannes, on Friday, recently. A harbour watchman discovered the dead man huddled in a chair on board the yacht. A small revolver was lying on the blood soaked carpet beside him.

                  Friends of Mr Hill, whose London address is given as Grosvenor House, Park Lane, say that he appeared despondent since last month when he was involved in a motor car accident on the Antibes ~ Nice road. He was then detained by the police after his car collided with a small motor lorry driven by two Italians, who were killed in the crash. Later he was released on bail of 180,000 francs (£1440) pending an investigation of a charge of being responsible for the fatal accident. …….

                  Mr Rowland Hill (Philips father) was heir to Sir Charles Holcroft, the wealthy Staffordshire man, and managed his estates for him, inheriting the property on the death of Sir Charles. On the death of Mr Rowland HIll, which took place at the Firs, Kidderminster, his property was inherited by Mr James (Culcheth) Hill who had built a mansion at Stone, near Kidderminster. Mr Philip Rowland Hill assisted his brother in managing the estate. …….

                  At the time of the collison both brothers were in the car.

                  This article doesn’t mention who was driving the car ~ could the family story of a car accident be this one?  Hildred and Reg were working at Stone Manor, both were (or at least previously had been) chauffeurs, and Philip Hill was helping James Culcheth Hill manage the Stone Manor estate at the time.

                   

                  This photograph was taken circa 1931 in Llanaeron, Wales.  Hildred is in the middle on the back row:

                  Llanaeron

                  Sally Gray sent the photo with this message:

                  “Joan gave me a short note: Photo was taken when they lived in Wales, at Llanaeron, before Janet was born, & Aunty Lorna (my mother) lived with them, to take Joan to school in Aberaeron, as they only spoke Welsh at the local school.”

                  Hildred and Reginalds daughter Janet was born in 1932 in Stratford.  It would appear that Hildred and Reg moved to Wales just after the car accident, and shortly afterwards moved to Stratford.

                  In 1921 James Culcheth Hill was living at Red Hill House in Stourbridge. Although I have not been able to trace Reginald Williams yet, perhaps this Stourbridge connection with his employer explains how Hildred met Reginald.

                  Sir Reginald Culcheth Holcroft, the other pupil at the school in Winchester with James Culcheth Hill, was indeed related, as Sir Holcroft left his estate to James Culcheth Hill’s father.  Sir Reginald was born in 1899 in Upper Swinford, Stourbridge.  Hildred also lived in that part of Stourbridge in the early 1900s.

                  1921 Red Hill House:

                  Red Hill House 1921

                   

                  The 2007 family reunion organized by Joan Williams at Stone Manor: Joan in black and white at the front.

                  2007 Stone Manor

                   

                  Unrelated to the Warrens, my fathers friends (and customers at The Fox when my grandmother Peggy Edwards owned it) Geoff and Beryl Lamb later bought Stone Manor.

                  #6306
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Looking for Robert Staley

                     

                    William Warren (1835-1880) of Newhall (Stapenhill) married Elizabeth Staley (1836-1907) in 1858. Elizabeth was born in Newhall, the daughter of John Staley (1795-1876) and Jane Brothers. John was born in Newhall, and Jane was born in Armagh, Ireland, and they were married in Armagh in 1820. Elizabeths older brothers were born in Ireland: William in 1826 and Thomas in Dublin in 1830. Francis was born in Liverpool in 1834, and then Elizabeth in Newhall in 1836; thereafter the children were born in Newhall.

                    Marriage of John Staley and Jane Brothers in 1820:

                    1820 marriage Armagh

                     

                     

                    My grandmother related a story about an Elizabeth Staley who ran away from boarding school and eloped to Ireland, but later returned. The only Irish connection found so far is Jane Brothers, so perhaps she meant Elizabeth Staley’s mother. A boarding school seems unlikely, and it would seem that it was John Staley who went to Ireland.

                    The 1841 census states Jane’s age as 33, which would make her just 12 at the time of her marriage. The 1851 census states her age as 44, making her 13 at the time of her 1820 marriage, and the 1861 census estimates her birth year as a more likely 1804. Birth records in Ireland for her have not been found. It’s possible, perhaps, that she was in service in the Newhall area as a teenager (more likely than boarding school), and that John and Jane ran off to get married in Ireland, although I haven’t found any record of a child born to them early in their marriage. John was an agricultural labourer, and later a coal miner.

                    John Staley was the son of Joseph Staley (1756-1838) and Sarah Dumolo (1764-). Joseph and Sarah were married by licence in Newhall in 1782. Joseph was a carpenter on the marriage licence, but later a collier (although not necessarily a miner).

                    The Derbyshire Record Office holds records of  an “Estimate of Joseph Staley of Newhall for the cost of continuing to work Pisternhill Colliery” dated 1820 and addresssed to Mr Bloud at Calke Abbey (presumably the owner of the mine)

                    Josephs parents were Robert Staley and Elizabeth. I couldn’t find a baptism or birth record for Robert Staley. Other trees on an ancestry site had his birth in Elton, but with no supporting documents. Robert, as stated in his 1795 will, was a Yeoman.

                    “Yeoman: A former class of small freeholders who farm their own land; a commoner of good standing.”
                    “Husbandman: The old word for a farmer below the rank of yeoman. A husbandman usually held his land by copyhold or leasehold tenure and may be regarded as the ‘average farmer in his locality’. The words ‘yeoman’ and ‘husbandman’ were gradually replaced in the later 18th and 19th centuries by ‘farmer’.”

                    He left a number of properties in Newhall and Hartshorne (near Newhall) including dwellings, enclosures, orchards, various yards, barns and acreages. It seemed to me more likely that he had inherited them, rather than moving into the village and buying them.

                    There is a mention of Robert Staley in a 1782 newpaper advertisement.

                    “Fire Engine To Be Sold.  An exceedingly good fire engine, with the boiler, cylinder, etc in good condition. For particulars apply to Mr Burslem at Burton-upon-Trent, or Robert Staley at Newhall near Burton, where the engine may be seen.”

                    fire engine

                     

                    Was the fire engine perhaps connected with a foundry or a coal mine?

                    I noticed that Robert Staley was the witness at a 1755 marriage in Stapenhill between Barbara Burslem and Richard Daston the younger esquire. The other witness was signed Burslem Jnr.

                     

                    Looking for Robert Staley

                     

                    I assumed that once again, in the absence of the correct records, a similarly named and aged persons baptism had been added to the tree regardless of accuracy, so I looked through the Stapenhill/Newhall parish register images page by page. There were no Staleys in Newhall at all in the early 1700s, so it seemed that Robert did come from elsewhere and I expected to find the Staleys in a neighbouring parish. But I still didn’t find any Staleys.

                    I spoke to a couple of Staley descendants that I’d met during the family research. I met Carole via a DNA match some months previously and contacted her to ask about the Staleys in Elton. She also had Robert Staley born in Elton (indeed, there were many Staleys in Elton) but she didn’t have any documentation for his birth, and we decided to collaborate and try and find out more.

                    I couldn’t find the earlier Elton parish registers anywhere online, but eventually found the untranscribed microfiche images of the Bishops Transcripts for Elton.

                    via familysearch:
                    “In its most basic sense, a bishop’s transcript is a copy of a parish register. As bishop’s transcripts generally contain more or less the same information as parish registers, they are an invaluable resource when a parish register has been damaged, destroyed, or otherwise lost. Bishop’s transcripts are often of value even when parish registers exist, as priests often recorded either additional or different information in their transcripts than they did in the original registers.”

                     

                    Unfortunately there was a gap in the Bishops Transcripts between 1704 and 1711 ~ exactly where I needed to look. I subsequently found out that the Elton registers were incomplete as they had been damaged by fire.

                    I estimated Robert Staleys date of birth between 1710 and 1715. He died in 1795, and his son Daniel died in 1805: both of these wills were found online. Daniel married Mary Moon in Stapenhill in 1762, making a likely birth date for Daniel around 1740.

                    The marriage of Robert Staley (assuming this was Robert’s father) and Alice Maceland (or Marsland or Marsden, depending on how the parish clerk chose to spell it presumably) was in the Bishops Transcripts for Elton in 1704. They were married in Elton on 26th February. There followed the missing parish register pages and in all likelihood the records of the baptisms of their first children. No doubt Robert was one of them, probably the first male child.

                    (Incidentally, my grandfather’s Marshalls also came from Elton, a small Derbyshire village near Matlock.  The Staley’s are on my grandmothers Warren side.)

                    The parish register pages resume in 1711. One of the first entries was the baptism of Robert Staley in 1711, parents Thomas and Ann. This was surely the one we were looking for, and Roberts parents weren’t Robert and Alice.

                    But then in 1735 a marriage was recorded between Robert son of Robert Staley (and this was unusual, the father of the groom isn’t usually recorded on the parish register) and Elizabeth Milner. They were married on the 9th March 1735. We know that the Robert we were looking for married an Elizabeth, as her name was on the Stapenhill baptisms of their later children, including Joseph Staleys.  The 1735 marriage also fit with the assumed birth date of Daniel, circa 1740. A baptism was found for a Robert Staley in 1738 in the Elton registers, parents Robert and Elizabeth, as well as the baptism in 1736 for Mary, presumably their first child. Her burial is recorded the following year.

                    The marriage of Robert Staley and Elizabeth Milner in 1735:

                    rbt staley marriage 1735

                     

                    There were several other Staley couples of a similar age in Elton, perhaps brothers and cousins. It seemed that Thomas and Ann’s son Robert was a different Robert, and that the one we were looking for was prior to that and on the missing pages.

                    Even so, this doesn’t prove that it was Elizabeth Staleys great grandfather who was born in Elton, but no other birth or baptism for Robert Staley has been found. It doesn’t explain why the Staleys moved to Stapenhill either, although the Enclosures Act and the Industrial Revolution could have been factors.

                    The 18th century saw the rise of the Industrial Revolution and many renowned Derbyshire Industrialists emerged. They created the turning point from what was until then a largely rural economy, to the development of townships based on factory production methods.

                    The Marsden Connection

                    There are some possible clues in the records of the Marsden family.  Robert Staley married Alice Marsden (or Maceland or Marsland) in Elton in 1704.  Robert Staley is mentioned in the 1730 will of John Marsden senior,  of Baslow, Innkeeper (Peacock Inne & Whitlands Farm). He mentions his daughter Alice, wife of Robert Staley.

                    In a 1715 Marsden will there is an intriguing mention of an alias, which might explain the different spellings on various records for the name Marsden:  “MARSDEN alias MASLAND, Christopher – of Baslow, husbandman, 28 Dec 1714. son Robert MARSDEN alias MASLAND….” etc.

                    Some potential reasons for a move from one parish to another are explained in this history of the Marsden family, and indeed this could relate to Robert Staley as he married into the Marsden family and his wife was a beneficiary of a Marsden will.  The Chatsworth Estate, at various times, bought a number of farms in order to extend the park.

                    THE MARSDEN FAMILY
                    OXCLOSE AND PARKGATE
                    In the Parishes of
                    Baslow and Chatsworth

                    by
                    David Dalrymple-Smith

                    “John Marsden (b1653) another son of Edmund (b1611) faired well. By the time he died in
                    1730 he was publican of the Peacock, the Inn on Church Lane now called the Cavendish
                    Hotel, and the farmer at “Whitlands”, almost certainly Bubnell Cliff Farm.”

                    “Coal mining was well known in the Chesterfield area. The coalfield extends as far as the
                    Gritstone edges, where thin seams outcrop especially in the Baslow area.”

                    “…the occupants were evicted from the farmland below Dobb Edge and
                    the ground carefully cleared of all traces of occupation and farming. Shelter belts were
                    planted especially along the Heathy Lea Brook. An imposing new drive was laid to the
                    Chatsworth House with the Lodges and “The Golden Gates” at its northern end….”

                    Although this particular event was later than any events relating to Robert Staley, it’s an indication of how farms and farmland disappeared, and a reason for families to move to another area:

                    “The Dukes of Devonshire (of Chatsworth)  were major figures in the aristocracy and the government of the
                    time. Such a position demanded a display of wealth and ostentation. The 6th Duke of
                    Devonshire, the Bachelor Duke, was not content with the Chatsworth he inherited in 1811,
                    and immediately started improvements. After major changes around Edensor, he turned his
                    attention at the north end of the Park. In 1820 plans were made extend the Park up to the
                    Baslow parish boundary. As this would involve the destruction of most of the Farm at
                    Oxclose, the farmer at the Higher House Samuel Marsden (b1755) was given the tenancy of
                    Ewe Close a large farm near Bakewell.
                    Plans were revised in 1824 when the Dukes of Devonshire and Rutland “Exchanged Lands”,
                    reputedly during a game of dice. Over 3300 acres were involved in several local parishes, of
                    which 1000 acres were in Baslow. In the deal Devonshire acquired the southeast corner of
                    Baslow Parish.
                    Part of the deal was Gibbet Moor, which was developed for “Sport”. The shelf of land
                    between Parkgate and Robin Hood and a few extra fields was left untouched. The rest,
                    between Dobb Edge and Baslow, was agricultural land with farms, fields and houses. It was
                    this last part that gave the Duke the opportunity to improve the Park beyond his earlier
                    expectations.”

                     

                    The 1795 will of Robert Staley.

                    Inriguingly, Robert included the children of his son Daniel Staley in his will, but omitted to leave anything to Daniel.  A perusal of Daniels 1808 will sheds some light on this:  Daniel left his property to his six reputed children with Elizabeth Moon, and his reputed daughter Mary Brearly. Daniels wife was Mary Moon, Elizabeths husband William Moons daughter.

                    The will of Robert Staley, 1795:

                    1795 will 2

                    1795 Rbt Staley will

                     

                    The 1805 will of Daniel Staley, Robert’s son:

                    This is the last will and testament of me Daniel Staley of the Township of Newhall in the parish of Stapenhill in the County of Derby, Farmer. I will and order all of my just debts, funeral and testamentary expenses to be fully paid and satisfied by my executors hereinafter named by and out of my personal estate as soon as conveniently may be after my decease.

                    I give, devise and bequeath to Humphrey Trafford Nadin of Church Gresely in the said County of Derby Esquire and John Wilkinson of Newhall aforesaid yeoman all my messuages, lands, tenements, hereditaments and real and personal estates to hold to them, their heirs, executors, administrators and assigns until Richard Moon the youngest of my reputed sons by Elizabeth Moon shall attain his age of twenty one years upon trust that they, my said trustees, (or the survivor of them, his heirs, executors, administrators or assigns), shall and do manage and carry on my farm at Newhall aforesaid and pay and apply the rents, issues and profits of all and every of my said real and personal estates in for and towards the support, maintenance and education of all my reputed children by the said Elizabeth Moon until the said Richard Moon my youngest reputed son shall attain his said age of twenty one years and equally share and share and share alike.

                    And it is my will and desire that my said trustees or trustee for the time being shall recruit and keep up the stock upon my farm as they in their discretion shall see occasion or think proper and that the same shall not be diminished. And in case any of my said reputed children by the said Elizabeth Moon shall be married before my said reputed youngest son shall attain his age of twenty one years that then it is my will and desire that non of their husbands or wives shall come to my farm or be maintained there or have their abode there. That it is also my will and desire in case my reputed children or any of them shall not be steady to business but instead shall be wild and diminish the stock that then my said trustees or trustee for the time being shall have full power and authority in their discretion to sell and dispose of all or any part of my said personal estate and to put out the money arising from the sale thereof to interest and to pay and apply the interest thereof and also thereunto of the said real estate in for and towards the maintenance, education and support of all my said reputed children by the said
                    Elizabeth Moon as they my said trustees in their discretion that think proper until the said Richard Moon shall attain his age of twenty one years.

                    Then I give to my grandson Daniel Staley the sum of ten pounds and to each and every of my sons and daughters namely Daniel Staley, Benjamin Staley, John Staley, William Staley, Elizabeth Dent and Sarah Orme and to my niece Ann Brearly the sum of five pounds apiece.

                    I give to my youngest reputed son Richard Moon one share in the Ashby Canal Navigation and I direct that my said trustees or trustee for the time being shall have full power and authority to pay and apply all or any part of the fortune or legacy hereby intended for my youngest reputed son Richard Moon in placing him out to any trade, business or profession as they in their discretion shall think proper.
                    And I direct that to my said sons and daughters by my late wife and my said niece shall by wholly paid by my said reputed son Richard Moon out of the fortune herby given him. And it is my will and desire that my said reputed children shall deliver into the hands of my executors all the monies that shall arise from the carrying on of my business that is not wanted to carry on the same unto my acting executor and shall keep a just and true account of all disbursements and receipts of the said business and deliver up the same to my acting executor in order that there may not be any embezzlement or defraud amongst them and from and immediately after my said reputed youngest son Richard Moon shall attain his age of twenty one years then I give, devise and bequeath all my real estate and all the residue and remainder of my personal estate of what nature and kind whatsoever and wheresoever unto and amongst all and every my said reputed sons and daughters namely William Moon, Thomas Moon, Joseph Moon, Richard Moon, Ann Moon, Margaret Moon and to my reputed daughter Mary Brearly to hold to them and their respective heirs, executors, administrator and assigns for ever according to the nature and tenure of the same estates respectively to take the same as tenants in common and not as joint tenants.

                    And lastly I nominate and appoint the said Humphrey Trafford Nadin and John Wilkinson executors of this my last will and testament and guardians of all my reputed children who are under age during their respective minorities hereby revoking all former and other wills by me heretofore made and declaring this only to be my last will.

                    In witness whereof I the said Daniel Staley the testator have to this my last will and testament set my hand and seal the eleventh day of March in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and five.

                     

                    #6300
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Looking for Carringtons

                       

                      The Carringtons of Smalley, at least some of them, were Baptist  ~ otherwise known as “non conformist”.  Baptists don’t baptise at birth, believing it’s up to the person to choose when they are of an age to do so, although that appears to be fairly random in practice with small children being baptised.  This makes it hard to find the birth dates registered as not every village had a Baptist church, and the baptisms would take place in another town.   However some of the children were baptised in the village Anglican church as well, so they don’t seem to have been consistent. Perhaps at times a quick baptism locally for a sickly child was considered prudent, and preferable to no baptism at all. It’s impossible to know for sure and perhaps they were not strictly commited to a particular denomination.

                      Our Carrington’s start with Ellen Carrington who married William Housley in 1814. William Housley was previously married to Ellen’s older sister Mary Carrington.  Ellen (born 1895 and baptised 1897) and her sister Nanny were baptised at nearby Ilkeston Baptist church but I haven’t found baptisms for Mary or siblings Richard and Francis.  We know they were also children of William Carrington as he mentions them in his 1834 will. Son William was baptised at the local Smalley church in 1784, as was Thomas in 1896.

                      The absence of baptisms in Smalley with regard to Baptist influence was noted in the Smalley registers:

                      not baptised

                       

                      Smalley (chapelry of Morley) registers began in 1624, Morley registers began in 1540 with no obvious gaps in either.  The gap with the missing registered baptisms would be 1786-1793. The Ilkeston Baptist register began in 1791. Information from the Smalley registers indicates that about a third of the children were not being baptised due to the Baptist influence.

                       

                      William Housley son in law, daughter Mary Housley deceased, and daughter Eleanor (Ellen) Housley are all mentioned in William Housley’s 1834 will.  On the marriage allegations and bonds for William Housley and Mary Carrington in 1806, her birth date is registered at 1787, her father William Carrington.

                      A Page from the will of William Carrington 1834:

                      1834 Will Carrington will

                       

                      William Carrington was baptised in nearby Horsley Woodhouse on 27 August 1758.  His parents were William and Margaret Carrington “near the Hilltop”. He married Mary Malkin, also of Smalley, on the 27th August 1783.

                      When I started looking for Margaret Wright who married William Carrington the elder, I chanced upon the Smalley parish register micro fiche images wrongly labeled by the ancestry site as Longford.   I subsequently found that the Derby Records office published a list of all the wrongly labeled Derbyshire towns that the ancestry site knew about for ten years at least but has not corrected!

                      Margaret Wright was baptised in Smalley (mislabeled as Longford although the register images clearly say Smalley!) on the 2nd March 1728. Her parents were John and Margaret Wright.

                      But I couldn’t find a birth or baptism anywhere for William Carrington. I found four sources for William and Margaret’s marriage and none of them suggested that William wasn’t local.  On other public trees on ancestry sites, William’s father was Joshua Carrington from Chinley. Indeed, when doing a search for William Carrington born circa 1720 to 1725, this was the only one in Derbyshire.  But why would a teenager move to the other side of the county?  It wasn’t uncommon to be apprenticed in neighbouring villages or towns, but Chinley didn’t seem right to me.  It seemed to me that it had been selected on the other trees because it was the only easily found result for the search, and not because it was the right one.

                      I spent days reading every page of the microfiche images of the parish registers locally looking for Carringtons, any Carringtons at all in the area prior to 1720. Had there been none at all, then the possibility of William being the first Carrington in the area having moved there from elsewhere would have been more reasonable.

                      But there were many Carringtons in Heanor, a mile or so from Smalley, in the 1600s and early 1700s, although they were often spelled Carenton, sometimes Carrianton in the parish registers. The earliest Carrington I found in the area was Alice Carrington baptised in Ilkeston in 1602.  It seemed obvious that William’s parents were local and not from Chinley.

                      The Heanor parish registers of the time were not very clearly written. The handwriting was bad and the spelling variable, depending I suppose on what the name sounded like to the person writing in the registers at the time as the majority of the people were probably illiterate.  The registers are also in a generally poor condition.

                      I found a burial of a child called William on the 16th January 1721, whose father was William Carenton of “Losko” (Loscoe is a nearby village also part of Heanor at that time). This looked promising!  If a child died, a later born child would be given the same name. This was very common: in a couple of cases I’ve found three deceased infants with the same first name until a fourth one named the same survived.  It seemed very likely that a subsequent son would be named William and he would be the William Carrington born circa 1720 to 1725 that we were looking for.

                      Heanor parish registers: William son of William Carenton of Losko buried January 19th 1721:

                      1721 William Carenton

                       

                      The Heanor parish registers between 1720 and 1729 are in many places illegible, however there are a couple of possibilities that could be the baptism of William in 1724 and 1725. A William son of William Carenton of Loscoe was buried in Jan 1721. In 1722 a Willian son of William Carenton (transcribed Tarenton) of Loscoe was buried. A subsequent son called William is likely. On 15 Oct 1724 a William son of William and Eliz (last name indecipherable) of Loscoe was baptised.  A Mary, daughter of William Carrianton of Loscoe, was baptised in 1727.

                      I propose that William Carringtons was born in Loscoe and baptised in Heanor in 1724: if not 1724 then I would assume his baptism is one of the illegible or indecipherable entires within those few years.  This falls short of absolute documented proof of course, but it makes sense to me.

                       

                       

                      In any case, if a William Carrington child died in Heanor in 1721 which we do have documented proof of, it further dismisses the case for William having arrived for no discernable reason from Chinley.

                      #6291
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Jane Eaton

                        The Nottingham Girl

                         

                        Jane Eaton 1809-1879

                        Francis Purdy, the Beggarlea Bulldog and Methodist Minister, married Jane Eaton in 1837 in Nottingham. Jane was his second wife.

                        Jane Eaton, photo says “Grandma Purdy” on the back:

                        Jane Eaton

                         

                        Jane is described as a “Nottingham girl” in a book excerpt sent to me by Jim Giles, a relation who shares the same 3x great grandparents, Francis and Jane Purdy.

                        Jane Eaton Nottingham

                        Jane Eaton 2

                         

                        Elizabeth, Francis Purdy’s first wife, died suddenly at chapel in 1836, leaving nine children.

                        On Christmas day the following year Francis married Jane Eaton at St Peters church in Nottingham. Jane married a Methodist Minister, and didn’t realize she married the bare knuckle fighter she’d seen when she was fourteen until he undressed and she saw his scars.

                        jane eaton 3

                         

                        William Eaton 1767-1851

                        On the marriage certificate Jane’s father was William Eaton, occupation gardener. Francis’s father was William Purdy, engineer.

                        On the 1841 census living in Sollory’s Yard, Nottingham St Mary, William Eaton was a 70 year old gardener. It doesn’t say which county he was born in but indicates that it was not Nottinghamshire. Living with him were Mary Eaton, milliner, age 35, Mary Eaton, milliner, 15, and Elizabeth Rhodes age 35, a sempstress (another word for seamstress). The three women were born in Nottinghamshire.

                        But who was Elizabeth Rhodes?

                        Elizabeth Eaton was Jane’s older sister, born in 1797 in Nottingham. She married William Rhodes, a private in the 5th Dragoon Guards, in Leeds in October 1815.

                        I looked for Elizabeth Rhodes on the 1851 census, which stated that she was a widow. I was also trying to determine which William Eaton death was the right one, and found William Eaton was still living with Elizabeth in 1851 at Pilcher Gate in Nottingham, but his name had been entered backwards: Eaton William. I would not have found him on the 1851 census had I searched for Eaton as a last name.

                        Pilcher Gate gets its strange name from pilchers or fur dealers and was once a very narrow thoroughfare. At the lower end stood a pub called The Windmill – frequented by the notorious robber and murderer Charlie Peace.

                        This was a lucky find indeed, because William’s place of birth was listed as Grantham, Lincolnshire. There were a couple of other William Eaton’s born at the same time, both near to Nottingham. It was tricky to work out which was the right one, but as it turned out, neither of them were.

                        William Eaton Grantham

                         

                        Now we had Nottinghamshire and Lincolnshire border straddlers, so the search moved to the Lincolnshire records.
                        But first, what of the two Mary Eatons living with William?

                        William and his wife Mary had a daughter Mary in 1799 who died in 1801, and another daughter Mary Ann born in 1803. (It was common to name children after a previous infant who had died.)  It seems that Mary Ann didn’t marry but had a daughter Mary Eaton born in 1822.

                        William and his wife Mary also had a son Richard Eaton born in 1801 in Nottingham.

                        Who was William Eaton’s wife Mary?

                        There are two possibilities: Mary Cresswell and a marriage in Nottingham in 1797, or Mary Dewey and a marriage at Grantham in 1795. If it’s Mary Cresswell, the first child Elizabeth would have been born just four or five months after the wedding. (This was far from unusual). However, no births in Grantham, or in Nottingham, were recorded for William and Mary in between 1795 and 1797.

                        We don’t know why William moved from Grantham to Nottingham or when he moved there. According to Dearden’s 1834 Nottingham directory, William Eaton was a “Gardener and Seedsman”.

                        gardener and seedsan William Eaton

                        There was another William Eaton selling turnip seeds in the same part of Nottingham. At first I thought it must be the same William, but apparently not, as that William Eaton is recorded as a victualler, born in Ruddington. The turnip seeds were advertised in 1847 as being obtainable from William Eaton at the Reindeer Inn, Wheeler Gate. Perhaps he was related.

                        William lived in the Lace Market part of Nottingham.   I wondered where a gardener would be working in that part of the city.  According to CreativeQuarter website, “in addition to the trades and housing (sometimes under the same roof), there were a number of splendid mansions being built with extensive gardens and orchards. Sadly, these no longer exist as they were gradually demolished to make way for commerce…..The area around St Mary’s continued to develop as an elegant residential district during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, with buildings … being built for nobility and rich merchants.”

                        William Eaton died in Nottingham in September 1851, thankfully after the census was taken recording his place of birth.

                        #6280

                        I started reading a book. In fact I started reading it three weeks ago, and have read the first page of the preface every night and fallen asleep. But my neck aches from doing too much gardening so I went back to bed to read this morning. I still fell asleep six times but at least I finished the preface. It’s the story of the family , initiated by the family collection of netsuke (whatever that is. Tiny Japanese carvings) But this is what stopped me reading and made me think (and then fall asleep each time I re read it)

                        “And I’m not entitled to nostalgia about all that lost wealth and glamour from a century ago. And I am not interested in thin. I want to know what the relationship has been between this wooden object that I am rolling between my fingers – hard and tricky and Japanese – and where it has been. I want to be able to reach to the handle of the door and turn it and feel it open. I want to walk into each room where this object has lived, to feel the volume of the space, to know what pictures were on the walls, how the light fell from the windows. And I want to know whose hands it has been in, and what they felt about it and thought about it – if they thought about it. I want to know what it has witnessed.” ― Edmund de Waal, The Hare With Amber Eyes: A Family’s Century of Art and Loss

                        And I felt almost bereft that none of the records tell me which way the light fell in through the windows.

                        I know who lived in the house in which years, but I don’t know who sat in the sun streaming through the window and which painting upon the wall they looked at and what the material was that covered the chair they sat on.

                        Were his clothes confortable (or hers, likely not), did he have an old favourite pair of trousers that his mother hated?

                        There is one house in particular that I keep coming back to. Like I got on the Housley train at Smalley and I can’t get off. Kidsley Grange Farm, they turned it into a nursing home and built extensions, and now it’s for sale for five hundred thousand pounds. But is the ghost still under the back stairs? Is there still a stain somewhere when a carafe of port was dropped?

                        Did Anns writing desk survive? Does someone have that, polished, with a vase of spring tulips on it? (on a mat of course so it doesn’t make a ring, despite that there are layers of beeswaxed rings already)

                        Does the desk remember the letters, the weight of a forearm or elbow, perhaps a smeared teardrop, or a comsumptive cough stain?

                        Is there perhaps a folded bit of paper or card that propped an uneven leg that fell through the floorboards that might tear into little squares if you found it and opened it, and would it be a rough draft of a letter never sent, or just a receipt for five head of cattle the summer before?

                        Did he hate the curtain material, or not even think of it? Did he love the house, or want to get away to see something new ~ or both?

                        Did he have a favourite cup, a favourite food, did he hate liver or cabbage?

                        Did he like his image when the photograph came from the studio or did he think it made his nose look big or his hair too thin, or did he wish he’d worn his other waistcoat?

                        Did he love his wife so much he couldn’t bear to see her dying, was it neglect or was it the unbearableness of it all that made him go away and drink?

                        Did the sun slanting in through the dormer window of his tiny attic room where he lodged remind him of ~ well no perhaps he was never in the room in daylight hours at all. Work all day and pub all night, keeping busy working hard and drinking hard and perhaps laughing hard, and maybe he only thought of it all on Sunday mornings.

                        So many deaths, one after another, his father, his wife, his brother, his sister, and another and another, all the coughing, all the debility. Perhaps he never understood why he lived and they did not, what kind of justice was there in that?

                        Did he take a souvenir or two with him, a handkerchief or a shawl perhaps, tucked away at the bottom of a battered leather bag that had his 3 shirts and 2 waistcoats in and a spare cap,something embroidered perhaps.

                        The quote in that book started me off with the light coming in the window and the need to know the simplest things, something nobody ever wrote in a letter, maybe never even mentioned to anyone.

                        Light coming in windows. I remeber when I was a teenager I had a day off sick and spent the whole day laying on the couch in a big window with the winter sun on my face all day, and I read Bonjour Tristesse in one sitting, and I’ll never forget that afternoon.  I don’t remember much about that book, but I remember being transported. But at the same time as being present in that sunny window.

                        “Stories and objects share something, a patina…Perhaps patina is a process of rubbing back so that the essential is revealed…But it also seems additive, in the way that a piece of oak furniture gains over years and years of polishing.”

                        “How objects are handed on is all about story-telling. I am giving you this because I love you. Or because it was given to me. Because I bought it somewhere special. Because you will care for it. Because it will complicate your life. Because it will make someone else envious. There is no easy story in legacy. What is remembered and what is forgotten? There can be a chain of forgetting, the rubbing away of previous ownership as much as the slow accretion of stories. What is being passed on to me with all these small Japanese objects?”

                        “There are things in this world that the children hear, but whose sounds oscillate below an adult’s sense of pitch.”

                        What did the children hear?

                        #6277
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          William Housley the Elder

                          Intestate

                          William Housley of Kidsley Grange Farm in Smalley, Derbyshire, was born in 1781 in Selston,  just over the county border in Nottinghamshire.  His father was also called William Housley, and he was born in Selston in 1735.  It would appear from the records that William the father married late in life and only had one son (unless of course other records are missing or have not yet been found).  Never the less, William Housley of Kidsley was the eldest son, or eldest surviving son, evident from the legal document written in 1816 regarding William the fathers’ estate.

                          William Housley died in Smalley in 1815, intestate.  William the son claims that “he is the natural and lawful son of the said deceased and the person entitled to letters of administration of his goods and personal estate”.

                          Derby the 16th day of April 1816:

                          William Housley intestate

                          William Housley intestate 2

                           

                          I transcribed three pages of this document, which was mostly repeated legal jargon. It appears that William Housley the elder died intestate, but that William the younger claimed that he was the sole heir.  £1200 is mentioned to be held until the following year until such time that there is certainty than no will was found and so on. On the last page “no more than £600” is mentioned and I can’t quite make out why both figures are mentioned!  However, either would have been a considerable sum in 1816.

                          I also found a land tax register in William Housley’s the elders name in Smalley (as William the son would have been too young at the time, in 1798).  William the elder was an occupant of one of his properties, and paid tax on two others, with other occupants named, so presumably he owned three properties in Smalley.

                          The only likely marriage for William Housley was in Selston. William Housley married Elizabeth Woodhead in 1777. It was a miracle that I found it, because the transcription on the website said 1797, which would have been too late to be ours, as William the son was born in 1781, but for some reason I checked the image and found that it was clearly 1777, listed between entries for 1776 and 1778. (I reported the transcription error.)  There were no other William Housley marriages recorded during the right time frame in Selston or in the vicinity.

                          I found a birth registered for William the elder in Selston in 1735.  Notwithstanding there may be pages of the register missing or illegible, in the absence of any other baptism registration, we must assume this is our William, in which case he married rather late in his 40s.  It would seem he didn’t have a previous wife, as William the younger claims to be the sole heir to his fathers estate.  I haven’t found any other children registered to the couple, which is also unusual, and the only death I can find for an Elizabeth Housley prior to 1815 (as William the elder was a widower when he died) is in Selston in 1812.  I’m not convinced that this is the death of William’s wife, however, as they were living in Smalley ~ at least, they were living in Smalley in 1798, according to the tax register, and William was living in Smalley when he died in 1815.

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                            The Housley Letters 

                            From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters.

                             

                            William Housley (1781-1848) and Ellen Carrington were married on May 30, 1814 at St. Oswald’s church in Ashbourne. William died in 1848 at the age of 67 of “disease of lungs and general debility”. Ellen died in 1872.

                            Marriage of William Housley and Ellen Carrington in Ashbourne in 1814:

                            William and Ellen Marriage

                             

                            Parish records show three children for William and his first wife, Mary, Ellens’ sister, who were married December 29, 1806: Mary Ann, christened in 1808 and mentioned frequently in the letters; Elizabeth, christened in 1810, but never mentioned in any letters; and William, born in 1812, probably referred to as Will in the letters. Mary died in 1813.

                            William and Ellen had ten children: John, Samuel, Edward, Anne, Charles, George, Joseph, Robert, Emma, and Joseph. The first Joseph died at the age of four, and the last son was also named Joseph. Anne never married, Charles emigrated to Australia in 1851, and George to USA, also in 1851. The letters are to George, from his sisters and brothers in England.

                            The following are excerpts of those letters, including excerpts of Barbara Housley’s “Narrative on Historic Letters”. They are grouped according to who they refer to, rather than chronological order.

                             

                            ELLEN HOUSLEY 1795-1872

                            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.”

                            Ellen’s family was evidently rather prominant in Smalley. Two Carringtons (John and William) served on the Parish Council in 1794. Parish records are full of Carrington marriages and christenings; census records confirm many of the family groupings.

                            In June of 1856, Emma wrote: “Mother looks as well as ever and was told by a lady the other day that she looked handsome.” Later she wrote: “Mother is as stout as ever although she sometimes complains of not being able to do as she used to.”

                             

                            Mary’s children:

                            MARY ANN HOUSLEY  1808-1878

                            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 unlucky in love! In Anne’s second letter she wrote: “William Carrington is paying Mary Ann great attention. He is living in London but they write to each other….We expect it will be a match.” Apparantly the courtship was stormy for in 1855, Emma wrote: “Mary Ann’s wedding with William Carrington has dropped through after she had prepared everything, dresses and all for the occassion.” Then in 1856, Emma wrote: “William Carrington and Mary Ann are separated. They wore him out with their nonsense.” Whether they ever married is unclear. Joseph wrote in 1872: “Mary Ann was married but her husband has left her. She is in very poor health. She has one daughter and they are living with their mother at Smalley.”

                            Regarding William Carrington, Emma supplied this bit of news: “His sister, Mrs. Lily, has eloped with a married man. Is she not a nice person!”

                             

                            WILLIAM HOUSLEY JR. 1812-1890

                            According to a letter from Anne, Will’s two sons and daughter were sent to learn dancing so they would be “fit for any society.” Will’s wife was Dorothy Palfry. They were married in Denby on October 20, 1836 when Will was 24. According to the 1851 census, Will and Dorothy had three sons: Alfred 14, Edwin 12, and William 10. All three boys were born in Denby.

                            In his letter of May 30, 1872, after just bemoaning that all of his brothers and sisters are gone except Sam and John, Joseph added: “Will is living still.” In another 1872 letter Joseph wrote, “Will is living at Heanor yet and carrying on his cattle dealing.” The 1871 census listed Will, 59, and his son William, 30, of Lascoe Road, Heanor, as cattle dealers.

                             

                            Ellen’s children:

                            JOHN HOUSLEY  1815-1893

                            John married Sarah Baggally in Morely in 1838. They had at least six children. Elizabeth (born 2 May 1838) was “out service” in 1854. In her “third year out,” Elizabeth was described by Anne as “a very nice steady girl but quite a woman in appearance.” One of her positions was with a Mrs. Frearson in Heanor. Emma wrote in 1856: “Elizabeth is still at Mrs. Frearson. She is such a fine stout girl you would not know her.” Joseph wrote in 1872 that Elizabeth was in service with Mrs. Eliza Sitwell at Derby. (About 1850, Miss Eliza Wilmot-Sitwell provided for a small porch with a handsome Norman doorway at the west end of the St. John the Baptist parish church in Smalley.)

                            According to Elizabeth’s birth certificate and the 1841 census, John was a butcher. By 1851, the household included a nurse and a servant, and John was listed as a “victular.” Anne wrote in February 1854, “John has left the Public House a year and a half ago. He is living where Plumbs (Ann Plumb witnessed William’s death certificate with her mark) did and Thomas Allen has the land. He has been working at James Eley’s all winter.” In 1861, Ellen lived with John and Sarah and the three boys.

                            John sold his share in the inheritance from their mother and disappeared after her death. (He died in Doncaster, Yorkshire, in 1893.) At that time Charles, the youngest would have been 21. Indeed, Joseph wrote in July 1872: “John’s children are all grown up”.

                            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 February 1874 Joseph wrote: “You want to know what made John go away. Well, I will give you one reason. I think I told you that when his wife died he persuaded me to leave Derby and come to live with him. Well so we did and dear Harriet to keep his house. Well he insulted my wife and offered things to her that was not proper and my dear wife had the power to resist his unmanly conduct. I did not think he could of served me such a dirty trick so that is one thing dear brother. He could not look me in the face when we met. Then after we left him he got a woman in the house and I suppose they lived as man and wife. She caught the small pox and died and there he was by himself like some wild man. Well dear brother I could not go to him again after he had served me and mine as he had and I believe he was greatly in debt too so that he sold his share out of the property and when he received the money at Belper he went away and has never been seen by any of us since but I have heard of him being at Sheffield enquiring for Sam Caldwell. You will remember him. He worked in the Nag’s Head yard but I have heard nothing no more of him.”

                            A mention of a John Housley of Heanor in the Nottinghma Journal 1875.  I don’t know for sure if the John mentioned here is the brother John who Joseph describes above as behaving improperly to his wife. John Housley had a son Joseph, born in 1840, and John’s wife Sarah died in 1870.

                            John Housley

                             

                            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.”

                             

                            SAMUEL HOUSLEY 1816-

                            Sam married Elizabeth Brookes of Sutton Coldfield, and they had three daughters: Elizabeth, Mary Anne and Catherine.  Elizabeth his wife died in 1849, a few months after Samuel’s father William died in 1848. The particular circumstances relating to these individuals have been discussed in previous chapters; the following are letter excerpts relating to them.

                            Death of William Housley 15 Dec 1848, and Elizabeth Housley 5 April 1849, Smalley:

                            Housley Deaths

                             

                            Joseph wrote in December 1872: “I saw one of Sam’s daughters, the youngest Kate, you would remember her a baby I dare say. She is very comfortably married.”

                            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….His daughter and her husband went to Brimingham and also to Sutton Coldfield that is where he married his wife from and found out his wife’s brother. It appears he has been there and at Birmingham ever since he went away but ever fond of drink.”

                            (Sam, however, was still alive in 1871, living as a lodger at the George and Dragon Inn, Henley in Arden. And no trace of Sam has been found since. It would appear that Sam did not want to be found.)

                             

                            EDWARD HOUSLEY 1819-1843

                            Edward died before George left for USA in 1851, and as such there is no mention of him in the letters.

                             

                            ANNE HOUSLEY 1821-1856

                            Anne wrote two letters to her brother George between February 1854 and her death in 1856. Apparently she suffered from a lung disease for she wrote: “I can say you will be surprised I am still living and better but still cough and spit a deal. Can do nothing but sit and sew.” According to the 1851 census, Anne, then 29, was a seamstress. Their friend, Mrs. Davy, wrote in March 1856: “This I send in a box to my Brother….The pincushion cover and pen wiper are Anne’s work–are for thy wife. She would have made it up had she been able.” Anne was not living at home at the time of the 1841 census. She would have been 19 or 20 and perhaps was “out service.”

                            In her second letter Anne wrote: “It is a great trouble now for me to write…as the body weakens so does the mind often. I have been very weak all summer. That I continue is a wonder to all and to spit so much although much better than when you left home.” She also wrote: “You know I had a desire for America years ago. Were I in health and strength, it would be the land of my adoption.”

                            In November 1855, Emma wrote, “Anne has been very ill all summer and has not been able to write or do anything.” Their neighbor Mrs. Davy wrote on March 21, 1856: “I fear Anne will not be long without a change.” In a black-edged letter the following June, Emma wrote: “I need not tell you how happy she was and how calmly and peacefully she died. She only kept in bed two days.”

                            Certainly Anne was a woman of deep faith and strong religious convictions. When she wrote that they were hoping to hear of Charles’ success on the gold fields she added: “But I would rather hear of him having sought and found the Pearl of great price than all the gold Australia can produce, (For what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his soul?).” Then she asked George: “I should like to learn how it was you were first led to seek pardon and a savior. I do feel truly rejoiced to hear you have been led to seek and find this Pearl through the workings of the Holy Spirit and I do pray that He who has begun this good work in each of us may fulfill it and carry it on even unto the end and I can never doubt the willingness of Jesus who laid down his life for us. He who said whoever that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.”

                            Anne’s will was probated October 14, 1856. Mr. William Davy of Kidsley Park appeared for the family. Her estate was valued at under £20. Emma was to receive fancy needlework, a four post bedstead, feather bed and bedding, a mahogany chest of drawers, plates, linen and china. Emma was also to receive Anne’s writing desk. There was a condition that Ellen would have use of these items until her death.

                            The money that Anne was to receive from her grandfather, William Carrington, and her father, William Housley was to be distributed one third to Joseph, one third to Emma, and one third to be divided between her four neices: John’s daughter Elizabeth, 18, and Sam’s daughters Elizabeth, 10, Mary Ann, 9 and Catharine, age 7 to be paid by the trustees as they think “most useful and proper.” Emma Lyon and Elizabeth Davy were the witnesses.

                            The Carrington Farm:

                            Carringtons Farm

                             

                            CHARLES HOUSLEY 1823-1855

                            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.”

                            Charles and George were probably quite close friends. Anne wrote in 1854: “Charles inquired very particularly in both his letters after you.”

                            According to Anne, Charles and a friend married two sisters. He and his father-in-law had a farm where they had 130 cows and 60 pigs. Whatever the trade he learned in England, he never worked at it once he reached Australia. While it does not seem that Charles went to Australia because gold had been discovered there, he was soon caught up in “gold fever”. Anne wrote: “I dare say you have heard of the immense gold fields of Australia discovered about the time he went. Thousands have since then emigrated to Australia, both high and low. Such accounts we heard in the papers of people amassing fortunes we could not believe. I asked him when I wrote if it was true. He said this was no exaggeration for people were making their fortune daily and he intended going to the diggings in six weeks for he could stay away no longer so that we are hoping to hear of his success if he is alive.”

                            In March 1856, Mrs. Davy wrote: “I am sorry to tell thee they have had a letter from Charles’s wife giving account of Charles’s death of 6 months consumption at the Victoria diggings. He has left 2 children a boy and a girl William and Ellen.” In June of the same year in a black edged letter, Emma wrote: “I think Mrs. Davy mentioned Charles’s death in her note. His wife wrote to us. They have two children Helen and William. Poor dear little things. How much I should like to see them all. She writes very affectionately.”

                            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.”

                             

                            GEORGE HOUSLEY 1824-1877

                            George emigrated to the United states in 1851, arriving in July. The solicitor Abraham John Flint referred in a letter to a 15-pound advance which was made to George on June 9, 1851. This certainly was connected to his journey. George settled along the Delaware River in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. The letters from the solicitor were addressed to: Lahaska Post Office, Bucks County, Pennsylvania.

                            George married Sarah Ann Hill on May 6, 1854 in Doylestown, Bucks County, Pennsylvania. In her first letter (February 1854), Anne wrote: “We want to know who and what is this Miss Hill you name in your letter. What age is she? Send us all the particulars but I would advise you not to get married until you have sufficient to make a comfortable home.”

                            Upon learning of George’s marriage, Anne wrote: “I hope dear brother you may be happy with your wife….I hope you will be as a son to her parents. Mother unites with me in kind love to you both and to your father and mother with best wishes for your health and happiness.” In 1872 (December) Joseph wrote: “I am sorry to hear that sister’s father is so ill. It is what we must all come to some time and hope we shall meet where there is no more trouble.”

                            Emma wrote in 1855, “We write in love to your wife and yourself and you must write soon and tell us whether there is a little nephew or niece and what you call them.” In June of 1856, Emma wrote: “We want to see dear Sarah Ann and the dear little boy. We were much pleased with the “bit of news” you sent.” The bit of news was the birth of John Eley Housley, January 11, 1855. Emma concluded her letter “Give our very kindest love to dear sister and dearest Johnnie.”

                            In September 1872, Joseph wrote, “I was very sorry to hear that John your oldest had met with such a sad accident but I hope he is got alright again by this time.” In the same letter, Joseph asked: “Now I want to know what sort of a town you are living in or village. How far is it from New York? Now send me all particulars if you please.”

                            In March 1873 Harriet asked Sarah Ann: “And will you please send me all the news at the place and what it is like for it seems to me that it is a wild place but you must tell me what it is like….”.  The question of whether she was referring to Bucks County, Pennsylvania or some other place is raised in Joseph’s letter of the same week.
                            On March 17, 1873, Joseph wrote: “I was surprised to hear that you had gone so far away west. Now dear brother what ever are you doing there so far away from home and family–looking out for something better I suppose.”

                            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.”

                            Apparently, George had indicated he might return to England for a visit in 1856. Emma wrote concerning the portrait of their mother which had been sent to George: “I hope you like mother’s portrait. I did not see it but I suppose it was not quite perfect about the eyes….Joseph and I intend having ours taken for you when you come over….Do come over before very long.”

                            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.”

                            On June 10, 1875, the solicitor wrote: “I have been expecting to hear from you for some time past. Please let me hear what you are doing and where you are living and how I must send you your money.” George’s big news at that time was that on May 3, 1875, he had become a naturalized citizen “renouncing and abjuring all allegiance and fidelity to every foreign prince, potentate, state and sovereignity whatsoever, and particularly to Victoria Queen of Great Britain of whom he was before a subject.”

                             

                            ROBERT HOUSLEY 1832-1851

                            In 1854, Anne wrote: “Poor Robert. He died in August after you left he broke a blood vessel in the lung.”
                            From Joseph’s first letter we learn that Robert was 19 when he died: “Dear brother there have been a great many changes in the family since you left us. All is gone except myself and John and Sam–we have heard nothing of him since he left. Robert died first when he was 19 years of age. Then Anne and Charles too died in Australia and then a number of years elapsed before anyone else. Then John lost his wife, then Emma, and last poor dear mother died last January on the 11th.”

                            Anne described Robert’s death in this way: “He had thrown up blood many times before in the spring but the last attack weakened him that he only lived a fortnight after. He died at Derby. Mother was with him. Although he suffered much he never uttered a murmur or regret and always a smile on his face for everyone that saw him. He will be regretted by all that knew him”.

                            Robert died a resident of St. Peter’s Parish, Derby, but was buried in Smalley on August 16, 1851.
                            Apparently Robert was apprenticed to be a joiner for, according to Anne, Joseph took his place: “Joseph wanted to be a joiner. We thought we could do no better than let him take Robert’s place which he did the October after and is there still.”

                            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.”

                             

                            EMMA HOUSLEY 1836-1871

                            Emma was not mentioned in Anne’s first letter. In the second, Anne wrote that Emma was living at Spondon with two ladies in her “third situation,” and added, “She is grown a bouncing woman.” Anne described her sister well. Emma wrote in her first letter (November 12, 1855): “I must tell you that I am just 21 and we had my pudding last Sunday. I wish I could send you a piece.”

                            From Emma’s letters we learn that she was living in Derby from May until November 1855 with Mr. Haywood, an iron merchant. She explained, “He has failed and I have been obliged to leave,” adding, “I expect going to a new situation very soon. It is at Belper.” In 1851 records, William Haywood, age 22, was listed as an iron foundry worker. In the 1857 Derby Directory, James and George were listed as iron and brass founders and ironmongers with an address at 9 Market Place, Derby.

                            In June 1856, Emma wrote from “The Cedars, Ashbourne Road” where she was working for Mr. Handysides.
                            While she was working for Mr. Handysides, Emma wrote: “Mother is thinking of coming to live at Derby. That will be nice for Joseph and I.”

                            Friargate and Ashbourne Road were located in St. Werburgh’s Parish. (In fact, St. Werburgh’s vicarage was at 185 Surrey Street. This clue led to the discovery of the record of Emma’s marriage on May 6, 1858, to Edwin Welch Harvey, son of Samuel Harvey in St. Werburgh’s.)

                            In 1872, Joseph wrote: “Our sister Emma, she died at Derby at her own home for she was married. She has left two young children behind. The husband was the son of the man that I went apprentice to and has caused a great deal of trouble to our family and I believe hastened poor Mother’s death….”.   Joseph added that he believed Emma’s “complaint” was consumption and that she was sick a good bit. Joseph wrote: “Mother was living with John when I came home (from Ascension Island around 1867? or to Smalley from Derby around 1870?) for when Emma was married she broke up the comfortable home and the things went to Derby and she went to live with them but Derby did not agree with her so she had to leave it again but left all her things there.”

                            Emma Housley and Edwin Welch Harvey wedding, 1858:

                            Emma Housley wedding

                             

                            JOSEPH HOUSLEY 1838-1893

                            We first hear of Joseph in a letter from Anne to George in 1854. “Joseph wanted to be a joiner. We thought we could do no better than let him take Robert’s place which he did the October after (probably 1851) and is there still. He is grown as tall as you I think quite a man.” Emma concurred in her first letter: “He is quite a man in his appearance and quite as tall as you.”

                            From Emma we learn in 1855: “Joseph has left Mr. Harvey. He had not work to employ him. So mother thought he had better leave his indenture and be at liberty at once than wait for Harvey to be a bankrupt. He has got a very good place of work now and is very steady.” In June of 1856, Emma wrote “Joseph and I intend to have our portraits taken for you when you come over….Mother is thinking of coming to Derby. That will be nice for Joseph and I. Joseph is very hearty I am happy to say.”

                            According to Joseph’s letters, he was married to Harriet Ballard. Joseph described their miraculous reunion in this way: “I must tell you that I have been abroad myself to the Island of Ascension. (Elsewhere he wrote that he was on the island when the American civil war broke out). I went as a Royal Marine and worked at my trade and saved a bit of money–enough to buy my discharge and enough to get married with but while I was out on the island who should I meet with there but my dear wife’s sister. (On two occasions Joseph and Harriet sent George the name and address of Harriet’s sister, Mrs. Brooks, in Susquehanna Depot, Pennsylvania, but it is not clear whether this was the same sister.) She was lady’s maid to the captain’s wife. Though I had never seen her before we got to know each other somehow so from that me and my wife recommenced our correspondence and you may be sure I wanted to get home to her. But as soon as I did get home that is to England I was not long before I was married and I have not regretted yet for we are very comfortable as well as circumstances will allow for I am only a journeyman joiner.”

                            Proudly, Joseph wrote: “My little family consists of three nice children–John, Joseph and Susy Annie.” On her birth certificate, Susy Ann’s birthdate is listed as 1871. Parish records list a Lucy Annie christened in 1873. The boys were born in Derby, John in 1868 and Joseph in 1869. In his second letter, Joseph repeated: “I have got three nice children, a good wife and I often think is more than I have deserved.” On August 6, 1873, Joseph and Harriet wrote: “We both thank you dear sister for the pieces of money you sent for the children. I don’t know as I have ever see any before.” Joseph ended another letter: “Now I must close with our kindest love to you all and kisses from the children.”

                            In Harriet’s letter to Sarah Ann (March 19, 1873), she promised: “I will send you myself and as soon as the weather gets warm as I can take the children to Derby, I will have them taken and send them, but it is too cold yet for we have had a very cold winter and a great deal of rain.” At this time, the children were all under 6 and the baby was not yet two.

                            In March 1873 Joseph wrote: “I have been working down at Heanor gate there is a joiner shop there where Kings used to live I have been working there this winter and part of last summer but the wages is very low but it is near home that is one comfort.” (Heanor Gate is about 1/4 mile from Kidsley Grange. There was a school and industrial park there in 1988.) At this time Joseph and his family were living in “the big house–in Old Betty Hanson’s house.” The address in the 1871 census was Smalley Lane.

                            A glimpse into Joseph’s personality is revealed by this remark to George in an 1872 letter: “Many thanks for your portrait and will send ours when we can get them taken for I never had but one taken and that was in my old clothes and dear Harriet is not willing to part with that. I tell her she ought to be satisfied with the original.”

                            On one occasion Joseph and Harriet both sent seeds. (Marks are still visible on the paper.) Joseph sent “the best cow cabbage seed in the country–Robinson Champion,” and Harriet sent red cabbage–Shaw’s Improved Red. Possibly cow cabbage was also known as ox cabbage: “I hope you will have some good cabbages for the Ox cabbage takes all the prizes here. I suppose you will be taking the prizes out there with them.” Joseph wrote that he would put the name of the seeds by each “but I should think that will not matter. You will tell the difference when they come up.”

                            George apparently would have liked Joseph to come to him as early as 1854. Anne wrote: “As to his coming to you that must be left for the present.” In 1872, Joseph wrote: “I have been thinking of making a move from here for some time before I heard from you for it is living from hand to mouth and never certain of a job long either.” Joseph then made plans to come to the United States in the spring of 1873. “For I intend all being well leaving England in the spring. Many thanks for your kind offer but I hope we shall be able to get a comfortable place before we have been out long.” Joseph promised to bring some things George wanted and asked: “What sort of things would be the best to bring out there for I don’t want to bring a lot that is useless.” Joseph’s plans are confirmed in a letter from the solicitor May 23, 1874: “I trust you are prospering and in good health. Joseph seems desirous of coming out to you when this is settled.”

                            George must have been reminiscing about gooseberries (Heanor has an annual gooseberry show–one was held July 28, 1872) and Joseph promised to bring cuttings when they came: “Dear Brother, I could not get the gooseberries for they was all gathered when I received your letter but we shall be able to get some seed out the first chance and I shall try to bring some cuttings out along.” In the same letter that he sent the cabbage seeds Joseph wrote: “I have got some gooseberries drying this year for you. They are very fine ones but I have only four as yet but I was promised some more when they were ripe.” In another letter Joseph sent gooseberry seeds and wrote their names: Victoria, Gharibaldi and Globe.

                            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.”

                            George did not save any letters from Joseph after 1874, hopefully he did reach him at Little Eaton. Joseph and his family are not listed in either Little Eaton or Derby on the 1881 census.

                            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 Housley and the Kiddsley cottages:

                            Joseph Housley

                            #6268
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              From Tanganyika with Love

                              continued part 9

                              With thanks to Mike Rushby.

                              Lyamungu 3rd January 1945

                              Dearest Family.

                              We had a novel Christmas this year. We decided to avoid the expense of
                              entertaining and being entertained at Lyamungu, and went off to spend Christmas
                              camping in a forest on the Western slopes of Kilimanjaro. George decided to combine
                              business with pleasure and in this way we were able to use Government transport.
                              We set out the day before Christmas day and drove along the road which skirts
                              the slopes of Kilimanjaro and first visited a beautiful farm where Philip Teare, the ex
                              Game Warden, and his wife Mary are staying. We had afternoon tea with them and then
                              drove on in to the natural forest above the estate and pitched our tent beside a small
                              clear mountain stream. We decorated the tent with paper streamers and a few small
                              balloons and John found a small tree of the traditional shape which we decorated where
                              it stood with tinsel and small ornaments.

                              We put our beer, cool drinks for the children and bottles of fresh milk from Simba
                              Estate, in the stream and on Christmas morning they were as cold as if they had been in
                              the refrigerator all night. There were not many presents for the children, there never are,
                              but they do not seem to mind and are well satisfied with a couple of balloons apiece,
                              sweets, tin whistles and a book each.

                              George entertain the children before breakfast. He can make a magical thing out
                              of the most ordinary balloon. The children watched entranced as he drew on his pipe
                              and then blew the smoke into the balloon. He then pinched the neck of the balloon
                              between thumb and forefinger and released the smoke in little puffs. Occasionally the
                              balloon ejected a perfect smoke ring and the forest rang with shouts of “Do it again
                              Daddy.” Another trick was to blow up the balloon to maximum size and then twist the
                              neck tightly before releasing. Before subsiding the balloon darted about in a crazy
                              fashion causing great hilarity. Such fun, at the cost of a few pence.

                              After breakfast George went off to fish for trout. John and Jim decided that they
                              also wished to fish so we made rods out of sticks and string and bent pins and they
                              fished happily, but of course quite unsuccessfully, for hours. Both of course fell into the
                              stream and got soaked, but I was prepared for this, and the little stream was so shallow
                              that they could not come to any harm. Henry played happily in the sand and I had a
                              most peaceful morning.

                              Hamisi roasted a chicken in a pot over the camp fire and the jelly set beautifully in the
                              stream. So we had grilled trout and chicken for our Christmas dinner. I had of course
                              taken an iced cake for the occasion and, all in all, it was a very successful Christmas day.
                              On Boxing day we drove down to the plains where George was to investigate a
                              report of game poaching near the Ngassari Furrow. This is a very long ditch which has
                              been dug by the Government for watering the Masai stock in the area. It is also used by
                              game and we saw herds of zebra and wildebeest, and some Grant’s Gazelle and
                              giraffe, all comparatively tame. At one point a small herd of zebra raced beside the lorry
                              apparently enjoying the fun of a gallop. They were all sleek and fat and looked wild and
                              beautiful in action.

                              We camped a considerable distance from the water but this precaution did not
                              save us from the mosquitoes which launched a vicious attack on us after sunset, so that
                              we took to our beds unusually early. They were on the job again when we got up at
                              sunrise so I was very glad when we were once more on our way home.

                              “I like Christmas safari. Much nicer that silly old party,” said John. I agree but I think
                              it is time that our children learned to play happily with others. There are no other young
                              children at Lyamungu though there are two older boys and a girl who go to boarding
                              school in Nairobi.

                              On New Years Day two Army Officers from the military camp at Moshi, came for
                              tea and to talk game hunting with George. I think they rather enjoy visiting a home and
                              seeing children and pets around.

                              Eleanor.

                              Lyamungu 14 May 1945

                              Dearest Family.

                              So the war in Europe is over at last. It is such marvellous news that I can hardly
                              believe it. To think that as soon as George can get leave we will go to England and
                              bring Ann and George home with us to Tanganyika. When we know when this leave can
                              be arranged we will want Kate to join us here as of course she must go with us to
                              England to meet George’s family. She has become so much a part of your lives that I
                              know it will be a wrench for you to give her up but I know that you will all be happy to
                              think that soon our family will be reunited.

                              The V.E. celebrations passed off quietly here. We all went to Moshi to see the
                              Victory Parade of the King’s African Rifles and in the evening we went to a celebration
                              dinner at the Game Warden’s house. Besides ourselves the Moores had invited the
                              Commanding Officer from Moshi and a junior officer. We had a very good dinner and
                              many toasts including one to Mrs Moore’s brother, Oliver Milton who is fighting in Burma
                              and has recently been awarded the Military Cross.

                              There was also a celebration party for the children in the grounds of the Moshi
                              Club. Such a spread! I think John and Jim sampled everything. We mothers were
                              having our tea separately and a friend laughingly told me to turn around and have a look.
                              I did, and saw the long tea tables now deserted by all the children but my two sons who
                              were still eating steadily, and finding the party more exciting than the game of Musical
                              Bumps into which all the other children had entered with enthusiasm.

                              There was also an extremely good puppet show put on by the Italian prisoners
                              of war from the camp at Moshi. They had made all the puppets which included well
                              loved characters like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and the Babes in the Wood as
                              well as more sophisticated ones like an irritable pianist and a would be prima donna. The
                              most popular puppets with the children were a native askari and his family – a very
                              happy little scene. I have never before seen a puppet show and was as entranced as
                              the children. It is amazing what clever manipulation and lighting can do. I believe that the
                              Italians mean to take their puppets to Nairobi and am glad to think that there, they will
                              have larger audiences to appreciate their art.

                              George has just come in, and I paused in my writing to ask him for the hundredth
                              time when he thinks we will get leave. He says I must be patient because it may be a
                              year before our turn comes. Shipping will be disorganised for months to come and we
                              cannot expect priority simply because we have been separated so long from our
                              children. The same situation applies to scores of other Government Officials.
                              I have decided to write the story of my childhood in South Africa and about our
                              life together in Tanganyika up to the time Ann and George left the country. I know you
                              will have told Kate these stories, but Ann and George were so very little when they left
                              home that I fear that they cannot remember much.

                              My Mother-in-law will have told them about their father but she can tell them little
                              about me. I shall send them one chapter of my story each month in the hope that they
                              may be interested and not feel that I am a stranger when at last we meet again.

                              Eleanor.

                              Lyamungu 19th September 1945

                              Dearest Family.

                              In a months time we will be saying good-bye to Lyamungu. George is to be
                              transferred to Mbeya and I am delighted, not only as I look upon Mbeya as home, but
                              because there is now a primary school there which John can attend. I feel he will make
                              much better progress in his lessons when he realises that all children of his age attend
                              school. At present he is putting up a strong resistance to learning to read and spell, but
                              he writes very neatly, does his sums accurately and shows a real talent for drawing. If
                              only he had the will to learn I feel he would do very well.

                              Jim now just four, is too young for lessons but too intelligent to be interested in
                              the ayah’s attempts at entertainment. Yes I’ve had to engage a native girl to look after
                              Henry from 9 am to 12.30 when I supervise John’s Correspondence Course. She is
                              clean and amiable, but like most African women she has no initiative at all when it comes
                              to entertaining children. Most African men and youths are good at this.

                              I don’t regret our stay at Lyamungu. It is a beautiful spot and the change to the
                              cooler climate after the heat of Morogoro has been good for all the children. John is still
                              tall for his age but not so thin as he was and much less pale. He is a handsome little lad
                              with his large brown eyes in striking contrast to his fair hair. He is wary of strangers but
                              very observant and quite uncanny in the way he sums up people. He seldom gets up
                              to mischief but I have a feeling he eggs Jim on. Not that Jim needs egging.

                              Jim has an absolute flair for mischief but it is all done in such an artless manner that
                              it is not easy to punish him. He is a very sturdy child with a cap of almost black silky hair,
                              eyes brown, like mine, and a large mouth which is quick to smile and show most beautiful
                              white and even teeth. He is most popular with all the native servants and the Game
                              Scouts. The servants call Jim, ‘Bwana Tembo’ (Mr Elephant) because of his sturdy
                              build.

                              Henry, now nearly two years old, is quite different from the other two in
                              appearance. He is fair complexioned and fair haired like Ann and Kate, with large, black
                              lashed, light grey eyes. He is a good child, not so merry as Jim was at his age, nor as
                              shy as John was. He seldom cries, does not care to be cuddled and is independent and
                              strong willed. The servants call Henry, ‘Bwana Ndizi’ (Mr Banana) because he has an
                              inexhaustible appetite for this fruit. Fortunately they are very inexpensive here. We buy
                              an entire bunch which hangs from a beam on the back verandah, and pluck off the
                              bananas as they ripen. This way there is no waste and the fruit never gets bruised as it
                              does in greengrocers shops in South Africa. Our three boys make a delightful and
                              interesting trio and I do wish you could see them for yourselves.

                              We are delighted with the really beautiful photograph of Kate. She is an
                              extraordinarily pretty child and looks so happy and healthy and a great credit to you.
                              Now that we will be living in Mbeya with a school on the doorstep I hope that we will
                              soon be able to arrange for her return home.

                              Eleanor.

                              c/o Game Dept. Mbeya. 30th October 1945

                              Dearest Family.

                              How nice to be able to write c/o Game Dept. Mbeya at the head of my letters.
                              We arrived here safely after a rather tiresome journey and are installed in a tiny house on
                              the edge of the township.

                              We left Lyamungu early on the morning of the 22nd. Most of our goods had
                              been packed on the big Ford lorry the previous evening, but there were the usual
                              delays and farewells. Of our servants, only the cook, Hamisi, accompanied us to
                              Mbeya. Japhet, Tovelo and the ayah had to be paid off and largesse handed out.
                              Tovelo’s granny had come, bringing a gift of bananas, and she also brought her little
                              granddaughter to present a bunch of flowers. The child’s little scolded behind is now
                              completely healed. Gifts had to be found for them too.

                              At last we were all aboard and what a squash it was! Our few pieces of furniture
                              and packing cases and trunks, the cook, his wife, the driver and the turney boy, who
                              were to take the truck back to Lyamungu, and all their bits and pieces, bunches of
                              bananas and Fanny the dog were all crammed into the body of the lorry. George, the
                              children and I were jammed together in the cab. Before we left George looked
                              dubiously at the tyres which were very worn and said gloomily that he thought it most
                              unlikely that we would make our destination, Dodoma.

                              Too true! Shortly after midday, near Kwakachinja, we blew a back tyre and there
                              was a tedious delay in the heat whilst the wheel was changed. We were now without a
                              spare tyre and George said that he would not risk taking the Ford further than Babati,
                              which is less than half way to Dodoma. He drove very slowly and cautiously to Babati
                              where he arranged with Sher Mohammed, an Indian trader, for a lorry to take us to
                              Dodoma the next morning.

                              It had been our intention to spend the night at the furnished Government
                              Resthouse at Babati but when we got there we found that it was already occupied by
                              several District Officers who had assembled for a conference. So, feeling rather
                              disgruntled, we all piled back into the lorry and drove on to a place called Bereku where
                              we spent an uncomfortable night in a tumbledown hut.

                              Before dawn next morning Sher Mohammed’s lorry drove up, and there was a
                              scramble to dress by the light of a storm lamp. The lorry was a very dilapidated one and
                              there was already a native woman passenger in the cab. I felt so tired after an almost
                              sleepless night that I decided to sit between the driver and this woman with the sleeping
                              Henry on my knee. It was as well I did, because I soon found myself dosing off and
                              drooping over towards the woman. Had she not been there I might easily have fallen
                              out as the battered cab had no door. However I was alert enough when daylight came
                              and changed places with the woman to our mutual relief. She was now able to converse
                              with the African driver and I was able to enjoy the scenery and the fresh air!
                              George, John and Jim were less comfortable. They sat in the lorry behind the
                              cab hemmed in by packing cases. As the lorry was an open one the sun beat down
                              unmercifully upon them until George, ever resourceful, moved a table to the front of the
                              truck. The two boys crouched under this and so got shelter from the sun but they still had
                              to endure the dust. Fanny complicated things by getting car sick and with one thing and
                              another we were all jolly glad to get to Dodoma.

                              We spent the night at the Dodoma Hotel and after hot baths, a good meal and a
                              good nights rest we cheerfully boarded a bus of the Tanganyika Bus Service next
                              morning to continue our journey to Mbeya. The rest of the journey was uneventful. We slept two nights on the road, the first at Iringa Hotel and the second at Chimala. We
                              reached Mbeya on the 27th.

                              I was rather taken aback when I first saw the little house which has been allocated
                              to us. I had become accustomed to the spacious houses we had in Morogoro and
                              Lyamungu. However though the house is tiny it is secluded and has a long garden
                              sloping down to the road in front and another long strip sloping up behind. The front
                              garden is shaded by several large cypress and eucalyptus trees but the garden behind
                              the house has no shade and consists mainly of humpy beds planted with hundreds of
                              carnations sadly in need of debudding. I believe that the previous Game Ranger’s wife
                              cultivated the carnations and, by selling them, raised money for War Funds.
                              Like our own first home, this little house is built of sun dried brick. Its original
                              owners were Germans. It is now rented to the Government by the Custodian of Enemy
                              Property, and George has his office in another ex German house.

                              This afternoon we drove to the school to arrange about enrolling John there. The
                              school is about four miles out of town. It was built by the German settlers in the late
                              1930’s and they were justifiably proud of it. It consists of a great assembly hall and
                              classrooms in one block and there are several attractive single storied dormitories. This
                              school was taken over by the Government when the Germans were interned on the
                              outbreak of war and many improvements have been made to the original buildings. The
                              school certainly looks very attractive now with its grassed playing fields and its lawns and
                              bright flower beds.

                              The Union Jack flies from a tall flagpole in front of the Hall and all traces of the
                              schools German origin have been firmly erased. We met the Headmaster, Mr
                              Wallington, and his wife and some members of the staff. The school is co-educational
                              and caters for children from the age of seven to standard six. The leaving age is elastic
                              owing to the fact that many Tanganyika children started school very late because of lack
                              of educational facilities in this country.

                              The married members of the staff have their own cottages in the grounds. The
                              Matrons have quarters attached to the dormitories for which they are responsible. I felt
                              most enthusiastic about the school until I discovered that the Headmaster is adamant
                              upon one subject. He utterly refuses to take any day pupils at the school. So now our
                              poor reserved Johnny will have to adjust himself to boarding school life.
                              We have arranged that he will start school on November 5th and I shall be very
                              busy trying to assemble his school uniform at short notice. The clothing list is sensible.
                              Boys wear khaki shirts and shorts on weekdays with knitted scarlet jerseys when the
                              weather is cold. On Sundays they wear grey flannel shorts and blazers with the silver
                              and scarlet school tie.

                              Mbeya looks dusty, brown and dry after the lush evergreen vegetation of
                              Lyamungu, but I prefer this drier climate and there are still mountains to please the eye.
                              In fact the lower slopes of Lolesa Mountain rise at the upper end of our garden.

                              Eleanor.

                              c/o Game Dept. Mbeya. 21st November 1945

                              Dearest Family.

                              We’re quite settled in now and I have got the little house fixed up to my
                              satisfaction. I have engaged a rather uncouth looking houseboy but he is strong and
                              capable and now that I am not tied down in the mornings by John’s lessons I am able to
                              go out occasionally in the mornings and take Jim and Henry to play with other children.
                              They do not show any great enthusiasm but are not shy by nature as John is.
                              I have had a good deal of heartache over putting John to boarding school. It
                              would have been different had he been used to the company of children outside his
                              own family, or if he had even known one child there. However he seems to be adjusting
                              himself to the life, though slowly. At least he looks well and tidy and I am quite sure that
                              he is well looked after.

                              I must confess that when the time came for John to go to school I simply did not
                              have the courage to take him and he went alone with George, looking so smart in his
                              new uniform – but his little face so bleak. The next day, Sunday, was visiting day but the
                              Headmaster suggested that we should give John time to settle down and not visit him
                              until Wednesday.

                              When we drove up to the school I spied John on the far side of the field walking
                              all alone. Instead of running up with glad greetings, as I had expected, he came almost
                              reluctently and had little to say. I asked him to show me his dormitory and classroom and
                              he did so politely as though I were a stranger. At last he volunteered some information.
                              “Mummy,” he said in an awed voice, Do you know on the night I came here they burnt a
                              man! They had a big fire and they burnt him.” After a blank moment the penny dropped.
                              Of course John had started school and November the fifth but it had never entered my
                              head to tell him about that infamous character, Guy Fawkes!

                              I asked John’s Matron how he had settled down. “Well”, she said thoughtfully,
                              “John is very good and has not cried as many of the juniors do when they first come
                              here, but he seems to keep to himself all the time.” I went home very discouraged but
                              on the Sunday John came running up with another lad of about his own age.” This is my
                              friend Marks,” he announced proudly. I could have hugged Marks.

                              Mbeya is very different from the small settlement we knew in the early 1930’s.
                              Gone are all the colourful characters from the Lupa diggings for the alluvial claims are all
                              worked out now, gone also are our old friends the Menzies from the Pub and also most
                              of the Government Officials we used to know. Mbeya has lost its character of a frontier
                              township and has become almost suburban.

                              The social life revolves around two places, the Club and the school. The Club
                              which started out as a little two roomed building, has been expanded and the golf
                              course improved. There are also tennis courts and a good library considering the size of
                              the community. There are frequent parties and dances, though most of the club revenue
                              comes from Bar profits. The parties are relatively sober affairs compared with the parties
                              of the 1930’s.

                              The school provides entertainment of another kind. Both Mr and Mrs Wallington
                              are good amateur actors and I am told that they run an Amateur Dramatic Society. Every
                              Wednesday afternoon there is a hockey match at the school. Mbeya town versus a
                              mixed team of staff and scholars. The match attracts almost the whole European
                              population of Mbeya. Some go to play hockey, others to watch, and others to snatch
                              the opportunity to visit their children. I shall have to try to arrange a lift to school when
                              George is away on safari.

                              I have now met most of the local women and gladly renewed an old friendship
                              with Sheilagh Waring whom I knew two years ago at Morogoro. Sheilagh and I have
                              much in common, the same disregard for the trappings of civilisation, the same sense of
                              the ludicrous, and children. She has eight to our six and she has also been cut off by the
                              war from two of her children. Sheilagh looks too young and pretty to be the mother of so
                              large a family and is, in fact, several years younger than I am. her husband, Donald, is a
                              large quiet man who, as far as I can judge takes life seriously.

                              Our next door neighbours are the Bank Manager and his wife, a very pleasant
                              couple though we seldom meet. I have however had correspondence with the Bank
                              Manager. Early on Saturday afternoon their houseboy brought a note. It informed me
                              that my son was disturbing his rest by precipitating a heart attack. Was I aware that my
                              son was about 30 feet up in a tree and balanced on a twig? I ran out and,sure enough,
                              there was Jim, right at the top of the tallest eucalyptus tree. It would be the one with the
                              mound of stones at the bottom! You should have heard me fluting in my most
                              wheedling voice. “Sweets, Jimmy, come down slowly dear, I’ve some nice sweets for
                              you.”

                              I’ll bet that little story makes you smile. I remember how often you have told me
                              how, as a child, I used to make your hearts turn over because I had no fear of heights
                              and how I used to say, “But that is silly, I won’t fall.” I know now only too well, how you
                              must have felt.

                              Eleanor.

                              c/o Game Dept. Mbeya. 14th January 1946

                              Dearest Family.

                              I hope that by now you have my telegram to say that Kate got home safely
                              yesterday. It was wonderful to have her back and what a beautiful child she is! Kate
                              seems to have enjoyed the train journey with Miss Craig, in spite of the tears she tells
                              me she shed when she said good-bye to you. She also seems to have felt quite at
                              home with the Hopleys at Salisbury. She flew from Salisbury in a small Dove aircraft
                              and they had a smooth passage though Kate was a little airsick.

                              I was so excited about her home coming! This house is so tiny that I had to turn
                              out the little store room to make a bedroom for her. With a fresh coat of whitewash and
                              pretty sprigged curtains and matching bedspread, borrowed from Sheilagh Waring, the
                              tiny room looks most attractive. I had also iced a cake, made ice-cream and jelly and
                              bought crackers for the table so that Kate’s home coming tea could be a proper little
                              celebration.

                              I was pleased with my preparations and then, a few hours before the plane was
                              due, my crowned front tooth dropped out, peg and all! When my houseboy wants to
                              describe something very tatty, he calls it “Second-hand Kabisa.” Kabisa meaning
                              absolutely. That is an apt description of how I looked and felt. I decided to try some
                              emergency dentistry. I think you know our nearest dentist is at Dar es Salaam five
                              hundred miles away.

                              First I carefully dried the tooth and with a match stick covered the peg and base
                              with Durofix. I then took the infants rubber bulb enema, sucked up some heat from a
                              candle flame and pumped it into the cavity before filling that with Durofix. Then hopefully
                              I stuck the tooth in its former position and held it in place for several minutes. No good. I
                              sent the houseboy to a shop for Scotine and tried the whole process again. No good
                              either.

                              When George came home for lunch I appealed to him for advice. He jokingly
                              suggested that a maize seed jammed into the space would probably work, but when
                              he saw that I really was upset he produced some chewing gum and suggested that I
                              should try that . I did and that worked long enough for my first smile anyway.
                              George and the three boys went to meet Kate but I remained at home to
                              welcome her there. I was afraid that after all this time away Kate might be reluctant to
                              rejoin the family but she threw her arms around me and said “Oh Mummy,” We both
                              shed a few tears and then we both felt fine.

                              How gay Kate is, and what an infectious laugh she has! The boys follow her
                              around in admiration. John in fact asked me, “Is Kate a Princess?” When I said
                              “Goodness no, Johnny, she’s your sister,” he explained himself by saying, “Well, she
                              has such golden hair.” Kate was less complementary. When I tucked her in bed last night
                              she said, “Mummy, I didn’t expect my little brothers to be so yellow!” All three boys
                              have been taking a course of Atebrin, an anti-malarial drug which tinges skin and eyeballs
                              yellow.

                              So now our tiny house is bursting at its seams and how good it feels to have one
                              more child under our roof. We are booked to sail for England in May and when we return
                              we will have Ann and George home too. Then I shall feel really content.

                              Eleanor.

                              c/o Game Dept. Mbeya. 2nd March 1946

                              Dearest Family.

                              My life just now is uneventful but very busy. I am sewing hard and knitting fast to
                              try to get together some warm clothes for our leave in England. This is not a simple
                              matter because woollen materials are in short supply and very expensive, and now that
                              we have boarding school fees to pay for both Kate and John we have to budget very
                              carefully indeed.

                              Kate seems happy at school. She makes friends easily and seems to enjoy
                              communal life. John also seems reconciled to school now that Kate is there. He no
                              longer feels that he is the only exile in the family. He seems to rub along with the other
                              boys of his age and has a couple of close friends. Although Mbeya School is coeducational
                              the smaller boys and girls keep strictly apart. It is considered extremely
                              cissy to play with girls.

                              The local children are allowed to go home on Sundays after church and may bring
                              friends home with them for the day. Both John and Kate do this and Sunday is a very
                              busy day for me. The children come home in their Sunday best but bring play clothes to
                              change into. There is always a scramble to get them to bath and change again in time to
                              deliver them to the school by 6 o’clock.

                              When George is home we go out to the school for the morning service. This is
                              taken by the Headmaster Mr Wallington, and is very enjoyable. There is an excellent
                              school choir to lead the singing. The service is the Church of England one, but is
                              attended by children of all denominations, except the Roman Catholics. I don’t think that
                              more than half the children are British. A large proportion are Greeks, some as old as
                              sixteen, and about the same number are Afrikaners. There are Poles and non-Nazi
                              Germans, Swiss and a few American children.

                              All instruction is through the medium of English and it is amazing how soon all the
                              foreign children learn to chatter in English. George has been told that we will return to
                              Mbeya after our leave and for that I am very thankful as it means that we will still be living
                              near at hand when Jim and Henry start school. Because many of these children have to
                              travel many hundreds of miles to come to school, – Mbeya is a two day journey from the
                              railhead, – the school year is divided into two instead of the usual three terms. This
                              means that many of these children do not see their parents for months at a time. I think
                              this is a very sad state of affairs especially for the seven and eight year olds but the
                              Matrons assure me , that many children who live on isolated farms and stations are quite
                              reluctant to go home because they miss the companionship and the games and
                              entertainment that the school offers.

                              My only complaint about the life here is that I see far too little of George. He is
                              kept extremely busy on this range and is hardly at home except for a few days at the
                              months end when he has to be at his office to check up on the pay vouchers and the
                              issue of ammunition to the Scouts. George’s Range takes in the whole of the Southern
                              Province and the Southern half of the Western Province and extends to the border with
                              Northern Rhodesia and right across to Lake Tanganyika. This vast area is patrolled by
                              only 40 Game Scouts because the Department is at present badly under staffed, due
                              partly to the still acute shortage of rifles, but even more so to the extraordinary reluctance
                              which the Government shows to allocate adequate funds for the efficient running of the
                              Department.

                              The Game Scouts must see that the Game Laws are enforced, protect native
                              crops from raiding elephant, hippo and other game animals. Report disease amongst game and deal with stock raiding lions. By constantly going on safari and checking on
                              their work, George makes sure the range is run to his satisfaction. Most of the Game
                              Scouts are fine fellows but, considering they receive only meagre pay for dangerous
                              and exacting work, it is not surprising that occasionally a Scout is tempted into accepting
                              a bribe not to report a serious infringement of the Game Laws and there is, of course,
                              always the temptation to sell ivory illicitly to unscrupulous Indian and Arab traders.
                              Apart from supervising the running of the Range, George has two major jobs.
                              One is to supervise the running of the Game Free Area along the Rhodesia –
                              Tanganyika border, and the other to hunt down the man-eating lions which for years have
                              terrorised the Njombe District killing hundreds of Africans. Yes I know ‘hundreds’ sounds
                              fantastic, but this is perfectly true and one day, when the job is done and the official
                              report published I shall send it to you to prove it!

                              I hate to think of the Game Free Area and so does George. All the game from
                              buffalo to tiny duiker has been shot out in a wide belt extending nearly two hundred
                              miles along the Northern Rhodesia -Tanganyika border. There are three Europeans in
                              widely spaced camps who supervise this slaughter by African Game Guards. This
                              horrible measure is considered necessary by the Veterinary Departments of
                              Tanganyika, Rhodesia and South Africa, to prevent the cattle disease of Rinderpest
                              from spreading South.

                              When George is home however, we do relax and have fun. On the Saturday
                              before the school term started we took Kate and the boys up to the top fishing camp in
                              the Mporoto Mountains for her first attempt at trout fishing. There are three of these
                              camps built by the Mbeya Trout Association on the rivers which were first stocked with
                              the trout hatched on our farm at Mchewe. Of the three, the top camp is our favourite. The
                              scenery there is most glorious and reminds me strongly of the rivers of the Western
                              Cape which I so loved in my childhood.

                              The river, the Kawira, flows from the Rungwe Mountain through a narrow valley
                              with hills rising steeply on either side. The water runs swiftly over smooth stones and
                              sometimes only a foot or two below the level of the banks. It is sparkling and shallow,
                              but in places the water is deep and dark and the banks high. I had a busy day keeping
                              an eye on the boys, especially Jim, who twice climbed out on branches which overhung
                              deep water. “Mummy, I was only looking for trout!”

                              How those kids enjoyed the freedom of the camp after the comparative
                              restrictions of town. So did Fanny, she raced about on the hills like a mad dog chasing
                              imaginary rabbits and having the time of her life. To escape the noise and commotion
                              George had gone far upstream to fish and returned in the late afternoon with three good
                              sized trout and four smaller ones. Kate proudly showed George the two she had caught
                              with the assistance or our cook Hamisi. I fear they were caught in a rather unorthodox
                              manner but this I kept a secret from George who is a stickler for the orthodox in trout
                              fishing.

                              Eleanor.

                              Jacksdale England 24th June 1946

                              Dearest Family.

                              Here we are all together at last in England. You cannot imagine how wonderful it
                              feels to have the whole Rushby family reunited. I find myself counting heads. Ann,
                              George, Kate, John, Jim, and Henry. All present and well. We had a very pleasant trip
                              on the old British India Ship Mantola. She was crowded with East Africans going home
                              for the first time since the war, many like us, eagerly looking forward to a reunion with their
                              children whom they had not seen for years. There was a great air of anticipation and
                              good humour but a little anxiety too.

                              “I do hope our children will be glad to see us,” said one, and went on to tell me
                              about a Doctor from Dar es Salaam who, after years of separation from his son had
                              recently gone to visit him at his school. The Doctor had alighted at the railway station
                              where he had arranged to meet his son. A tall youth approached him and said, very
                              politely, “Excuse me sir. Are you my Father?” Others told me of children who had
                              become so attached to their relatives in England that they gave their parents a very cool
                              reception. I began to feel apprehensive about Ann and George but fortunately had no
                              time to mope.

                              Oh, that washing and ironing for six! I shall remember for ever that steamy little
                              laundry in the heat of the Red Sea and queuing up for the ironing and the feeling of guilt
                              at the size of my bundle. We met many old friends amongst the passengers, and made
                              some new ones, so the voyage was a pleasant one, We did however have our
                              anxious moments.

                              John was the first to disappear and we had an anxious search for him. He was
                              quite surprised that we had been concerned. “I was just talking to my friend Chinky
                              Chinaman in his workshop.” Could John have called him that? Then, when I returned to
                              the cabin from dinner one night I found Henry swigging Owbridge’s Lung Tonic. He had
                              drunk half the bottle neat and the label said ‘five drops in water’. Luckily it did not harm
                              him.

                              Jim of course was forever risking his neck. George had forbidden him to climb on
                              the railings but he was forever doing things which no one had thought of forbidding him
                              to do, like hanging from the overhead pipes on the deck or standing on the sill of a
                              window and looking down at the well deck far below. An Officer found him doing this and
                              gave me the scolding.

                              Another day he climbed up on a derrick used for hoisting cargo. George,
                              oblivious to this was sitting on the hatch cover with other passengers reading a book. I
                              was in the wash house aft on the same deck when Kate rushed in and said, “Mummy
                              come and see Jim.” Before I had time to more than gape, the butcher noticed Jim and
                              rushed out knife in hand. “Get down from there”, he bellowed. Jim got, and with such
                              speed that he caught the leg or his shorts on a projecting piece of metal. The cotton
                              ripped across the seam from leg to leg and Jim stood there for a humiliating moment in a
                              sort of revealing little kilt enduring the smiles of the passengers who had looked up from
                              their books at the butcher’s shout.

                              That incident cured Jim of his urge to climb on the ship but he managed to give
                              us one more fright. He was lost off Dover. People from whom we enquired said, “Yes
                              we saw your little boy. He was by the railings watching that big aircraft carrier.” Now Jim,
                              though mischievous , is very obedient. It was not until George and I had conducted an
                              exhaustive search above and below decks that I really became anxious. Could he have
                              fallen overboard? Jim was returned to us by an unamused Officer. He had been found
                              in one of the lifeboats on the deck forbidden to children.

                              Our ship passed Dover after dark and it was an unforgettable sight. Dover Castle
                              and the cliffs were floodlit for the Victory Celebrations. One of the men passengers sat
                              down at the piano and played ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’, and people sang and a few
                              wept. The Mantola docked at Tilbury early next morning in a steady drizzle.
                              There was a dockers strike on and it took literally hours for all the luggage to be
                              put ashore. The ships stewards simply locked the public rooms and went off leaving the
                              passengers shivering on the docks. Eventually damp and bedraggled, we arrived at St
                              Pancras Station and were given a warm welcome by George’s sister Cath and her
                              husband Reg Pears, who had come all the way from Nottingham to meet us.
                              As we had to spend an hour in London before our train left for Nottingham,
                              George suggested that Cath and I should take the children somewhere for a meal. So
                              off we set in the cold drizzle, the boys and I without coats and laden with sundry
                              packages, including a hand woven native basket full of shoes. We must have looked like
                              a bunch of refugees as we stood in the hall of The Kings Cross Station Hotel because a
                              supercilious waiter in tails looked us up and down and said, “I’m afraid not Madam”, in
                              answer to my enquiry whether the hotel could provide lunch for six.
                              Anyway who cares! We had lunch instead at an ABC tea room — horrible
                              sausage and a mound or rather sloppy mashed potatoes, but very good ice-cream.
                              After the train journey in a very grimy third class coach, through an incredibly green and
                              beautiful countryside, we eventually reached Nottingham and took a bus to Jacksdale,
                              where George’s mother and sisters live in large detached houses side by side.
                              Ann and George were at the bus stop waiting for us, and thank God, submitted
                              to my kiss as though we had been parted for weeks instead of eight years. Even now
                              that we are together again my heart aches to think of all those missed years. They have
                              not changed much and I would have picked them out of a crowd, but Ann, once thin and
                              pale, is now very rosy and blooming. She still has her pretty soft plaits and her eyes are
                              still a clear calm blue. Young George is very striking looking with sparkling brown eyes, a
                              ready, slightly lopsided smile, and charming manners.

                              Mother, and George’s elder sister, Lottie Giles, welcomed us at the door with the
                              cheering news that our tea was ready. Ann showed us the way to mother’s lovely lilac
                              tiled bathroom for a wash before tea. Before I had even turned the tap, Jim had hung
                              form the glass towel rail and it lay in three pieces on the floor. There have since been
                              similar tragedies. I can see that life in civilisation is not without snags.

                              I am most grateful that Ann and George have accepted us so naturally and
                              affectionately. Ann said candidly, “Mummy, it’s a good thing that you had Aunt Cath with
                              you when you arrived because, honestly, I wouldn’t have known you.”

                              Eleanor.

                              Jacksdale England 28th August 1946

                              Dearest Family.

                              I am sorry that I have not written for some time but honestly, I don’t know whether
                              I’m coming or going. Mother handed the top floor of her house to us and the
                              arrangement was that I should tidy our rooms and do our laundry and Mother would
                              prepare the meals except for breakfast. It looked easy at first. All the rooms have wall to
                              wall carpeting and there was a large vacuum cleaner in the box room. I was told a
                              window cleaner would do the windows.

                              Well the first time I used the Hoover I nearly died of fright. I pressed the switch
                              and immediately there was a roar and the bag filled with air to bursting point, or so I
                              thought. I screamed for Ann and she came at the run. I pointed to the bag and shouted
                              above the din, “What must I do? It’s going to burst!” Ann looked at me in astonishment
                              and said, “But Mummy that’s the way it works.” I couldn’t have her thinking me a
                              complete fool so I switched the current off and explained to Ann how it was that I had
                              never seen this type of equipment in action. How, in Tanganyika , I had never had a
                              house with electricity and that, anyway, electric equipment would be superfluous
                              because floors are of cement which the houseboy polishes by hand, one only has a
                              few rugs or grass mats on the floor. “But what about Granny’s house in South Africa?’”
                              she asked, so I explained about your Josephine who threatened to leave if you
                              bought a Hoover because that would mean that you did not think she kept the house
                              clean. The sad fact remains that, at fourteen, Ann knows far more about housework than I
                              do, or rather did! I’m learning fast.

                              The older children all go to school at different times in the morning. Ann leaves first
                              by bus to go to her Grammar School at Sutton-in-Ashfield. Shortly afterwards George
                              catches a bus for Nottingham where he attends the High School. So they have
                              breakfast in relays, usually scrambled egg made from a revolting dried egg mixture.
                              Then there are beds to make and washing and ironing to do, so I have little time for
                              sightseeing, though on a few afternoons George has looked after the younger children
                              and I have gone on bus tours in Derbyshire. Life is difficult here with all the restrictions on
                              foodstuffs. We all have ration books so get our fair share but meat, fats and eggs are
                              scarce and expensive. The weather is very wet. At first I used to hang out the washing
                              and then rush to bring it in when a shower came. Now I just let it hang.

                              We have left our imprint upon my Mother-in-law’s house for ever. Henry upset a
                              bottle of Milk of Magnesia in the middle of the pale fawn bedroom carpet. John, trying to
                              be helpful and doing some dusting, broke one of the delicate Dresden china candlesticks
                              which adorn our bedroom mantelpiece.Jim and Henry have wrecked the once
                              professionally landscaped garden and all the boys together bored a large hole through
                              Mother’s prized cherry tree. So now Mother has given up and gone off to Bournemouth
                              for a much needed holiday. Once a week I have the capable help of a cleaning woman,
                              called for some reason, ‘Mrs Two’, but I have now got all the cooking to do for eight. Mrs
                              Two is a godsend. She wears, of all things, a print mob cap with a hole in it. Says it
                              belonged to her Grandmother. Her price is far beyond Rubies to me, not so much
                              because she does, in a couple of hours, what it takes me all day to do, but because she
                              sells me boxes of fifty cigarettes. Some non-smoking relative, who works in Players
                              tobacco factory, passes on his ration to her. Until Mrs Two came to my rescue I had
                              been starved of cigarettes. Each time I asked for them at the shop the grocer would say,
                              “Are you registered with us?” Only very rarely would some kindly soul sell me a little
                              packet of five Woodbines.

                              England is very beautiful but the sooner we go home to Tanganyika, the better.
                              On this, George and I and the children agree.

                              Eleanor.

                              Jacksdale England 20th September 1946

                              Dearest Family.

                              Our return passages have now been booked on the Winchester Castle and we
                              sail from Southampton on October the sixth. I look forward to returning to Tanganyika but
                              hope to visit England again in a few years time when our children are older and when
                              rationing is a thing of the past.

                              I have grown fond of my Sisters-in-law and admire my Mother-in-law very much.
                              She has a great sense of humour and has entertained me with stories of her very
                              eventful life, and told me lots of little stories of the children which did not figure in her
                              letters. One which amused me was about young George. During one of the air raids
                              early in the war when the sirens were screaming and bombers roaring overhead Mother
                              made the two children get into the cloak cupboard under the stairs. Young George
                              seemed quite unconcerned about the planes and the bombs but soon an anxious voice
                              asked in the dark, “Gran, what will I do if a spider falls on me?” I am afraid that Mother is
                              going to miss Ann and George very much.

                              I had a holiday last weekend when Lottie and I went up to London on a spree. It
                              was a most enjoyable weekend, though very rushed. We placed ourselves in the
                              hands of Thos. Cook and Sons and saw most of the sights of London and were run off
                              our feet in the process. As you all know London I shall not describe what I saw but just
                              to say that, best of all, I enjoyed walking along the Thames embankment in the evening
                              and the changing of the Guard at Whitehall. On Sunday morning Lottie and I went to
                              Kew Gardens and in the afternoon walked in Kensington Gardens.

                              We went to only one show, ‘The Skin of our Teeth’ starring Vivienne Leigh.
                              Neither of us enjoyed the performance at all and regretted having spent so much on
                              circle seats. The show was far too highbrow for my taste, a sort of satire on the survival
                              of the human race. Miss Leigh was unrecognisable in a blond wig and her voice strident.
                              However the night was not a dead loss as far as entertainment was concerned as we
                              were later caught up in a tragicomedy at our hotel.

                              We had booked communicating rooms at the enormous Imperial Hotel in Russell
                              Square. These rooms were comfortably furnished but very high up, and we had a rather
                              terrifying and dreary view from the windows of the enclosed courtyard far below. We
                              had some snacks and a chat in Lottie’s room and then I moved to mine and went to bed.
                              I had noted earlier that there was a special lock on the outer door of my room so that
                              when the door was closed from the inside it automatically locked itself.
                              I was just dropping off to sleep when I heard a hammering which seemed to
                              come from my wardrobe. I got up, rather fearfully, and opened the wardrobe door and
                              noted for the first time that the wardrobe was set in an opening in the wall and that the
                              back of the wardrobe also served as the back of the wardrobe in the room next door. I
                              quickly shut it again and went to confer with Lottie.

                              Suddenly a male voice was raised next door in supplication, “Mary Mother of
                              God, Help me! They’ve locked me in!” and the hammering resumed again, sometimes
                              on the door, and then again on the back of the wardrobe of the room next door. Lottie
                              had by this time joined me and together we listened to the prayers and to the
                              hammering. Then the voice began to threaten, “If you don’t let me out I’ll jump out of the
                              window.” Great consternation on our side of the wall. I went out into the passage and
                              called through the door, “You’re not locked in. Come to your door and I’ll tell you how to
                              open it.” Silence for a moment and then again the prayers followed by a threat. All the
                              other doors in the corridor remained shut.

                              Luckily just then a young man and a woman came walking down the corridor and I
                              explained the situation. The young man hurried off for the night porter who went into the
                              next door room. In a matter of minutes there was peace next door. When the night
                              porter came out into the corridor again I asked for an explanation. He said quite casually,
                              “It’s all right Madam. He’s an Irish Gentleman in Show Business. He gets like this on a
                              Saturday night when he has had a drop too much. He won’t give any more trouble
                              now.” And he didn’t. Next morning at breakfast Lottie and I tried to spot the gentleman in
                              the Show Business, but saw no one who looked like the owner of that charming Irish
                              voice.

                              George had to go to London on business last Monday and took the older
                              children with him for a few hours of sight seeing. They returned quite unimpressed.
                              Everything was too old and dirty and there were far too many people about, but they
                              had enjoyed riding on the escalators at the tube stations, and all agreed that the highlight
                              of the trip was, “Dad took us to lunch at the Chicken Inn.”

                              Now that it is almost time to leave England I am finding the housework less of a
                              drudgery, Also, as it is school holiday time, Jim and Henry are able to go on walks with
                              the older children and so use up some of their surplus energy. Cath and I took the
                              children (except young George who went rabbit shooting with his uncle Reg, and
                              Henry, who stayed at home with his dad) to the Wakes at Selston, the neighbouring
                              village. There were the roundabouts and similar contraptions but the side shows had
                              more appeal for the children. Ann and Kate found a stall where assorted prizes were
                              spread out on a sloping table. Anyone who could land a penny squarely on one of
                              these objects was given a similar one as a prize.

                              I was touched to see that both girls ignored all the targets except a box of fifty
                              cigarettes which they were determined to win for me. After numerous attempts, Kate
                              landed her penny successfully and you would have loved to have seen her radiant little
                              face.

                              Eleanor.

                              Dar es Salaam 22nd October 1946

                              Dearest Family.

                              Back in Tanganyika at last, but not together. We have to stay in Dar es Salaam
                              until tomorrow when the train leaves for Dodoma. We arrived yesterday morning to find
                              all the hotels filled with people waiting to board ships for England. Fortunately some
                              friends came to the rescue and Ann, Kate and John have gone to stay with them. Jim,
                              Henry and I are sleeping in a screened corner of the lounge of the New Africa Hotel, and
                              George and young George have beds in the Palm Court of the same hotel.

                              We travelled out from England in the Winchester Castle under troopship
                              conditions. We joined her at Southampton after a rather slow train journey from
                              Nottingham. We arrived after dark and from the station we could see a large ship in the
                              docks with a floodlit red funnel. “Our ship,” yelled the children in delight, but it was not the
                              Winchester Castle but the Queen Elizabeth, newly reconditioned.

                              We had hoped to board our ship that evening but George made enquiries and
                              found that we would not be allowed on board until noon next day. Without much hope,
                              we went off to try to get accommodation for eight at a small hotel recommended by the
                              taxi driver. Luckily for us there was a very motherly woman at the reception desk. She
                              looked in amusement at the six children and said to me, “Goodness are all these yours,
                              ducks? Then she called over her shoulder, “Wilf, come and see this lady with lots of
                              children. We must try to help.” They settled the problem most satisfactorily by turning
                              two rooms into a dormitory.

                              In the morning we had time to inspect bomb damage in the dock area of
                              Southampton. Most of the rubble had been cleared away but there are still numbers of
                              damaged buildings awaiting demolition. A depressing sight. We saw the Queen Mary
                              at anchor, still in her drab war time paint, but magnificent nevertheless.
                              The Winchester Castle was crammed with passengers and many travelled in
                              acute discomfort. We were luckier than most because the two girls, the three small boys
                              and I had a stateroom to ourselves and though it was stripped of peacetime comforts,
                              we had a private bathroom and toilet. The two Georges had bunks in a huge men-only
                              dormitory somewhere in the bowls of the ship where they had to share communal troop
                              ship facilities. The food was plentiful but unexciting and one had to queue for afternoon
                              tea. During the day the decks were crowded and there was squatting room only. The
                              many children on board got bored.

                              Port Said provided a break and we were all entertained by the ‘Gully Gully’ man
                              and his conjuring tricks, and though we had no money to spend at Simon Artz, we did at
                              least have a chance to stretch our legs. Next day scores of passengers took ill with
                              sever stomach upsets, whether from food poisoning, or as was rumoured, from bad
                              water taken on at the Egyptian port, I don’t know. Only the two Georges in our family
                              were affected and their attacks were comparatively mild.

                              As we neared the Kenya port of Mombassa, the passengers for Dar es Salaam
                              were told that they would have to disembark at Mombassa and continue their journey in
                              a small coaster, the Al Said. The Winchester Castle is too big for the narrow channel
                              which leads to Dar es Salaam harbour.

                              From the wharf the Al Said looked beautiful. She was once the private yacht of
                              the Sultan of Zanzibar and has lovely lines. Our admiration lasted only until we were
                              shown our cabins. With one voice our children exclaimed, “Gosh they stink!” They did, of
                              a mixture of rancid oil and sweat and stale urine. The beds were not yet made and the
                              thin mattresses had ominous stains on them. John, ever fastidious, lifted his mattress and two enormous cockroaches scuttled for cover.

                              We had a good homely lunch served by two smiling African stewards and
                              afterwards we sat on deck and that was fine too, though behind ones enjoyment there
                              was the thought of those stuffy and dirty cabins. That first night nearly everyone,
                              including George and our older children, slept on deck. Women occupied deck chairs
                              and men and children slept on the bare decks. Horrifying though the idea was, I decided
                              that, as Jim had a bad cough, he, Henry and I would sleep in our cabin.

                              When I announced my intention of sleeping in the cabin one of the passengers
                              gave me some insecticide spray which I used lavishly, but without avail. The children
                              slept but I sat up all night with the light on, determined to keep at least their pillows clear
                              of the cockroaches which scurried about boldly regardless of the light. All the next day
                              and night we avoided the cabins. The Al Said stopped for some hours at Zanzibar to
                              offload her deck cargo of live cattle and packing cases from the hold. George and the
                              elder children went ashore for a walk but I felt too lazy and there was plenty to watch
                              from deck.

                              That night I too occupied a deck chair and slept quite comfortably, and next
                              morning we entered the palm fringed harbour of Dar es Salaam and were home.

                              Eleanor.

                              Mbeya 1st November 1946

                              Dearest Family.

                              Home at last! We are all most happily installed in a real family house about three
                              miles out of Mbeya and near the school. This house belongs to an elderly German and
                              has been taken over by the Custodian of Enemy Property and leased to the
                              Government.

                              The owner, whose name is Shenkel, was not interned but is allowed to occupy a
                              smaller house on the Estate. I found him in the garden this morning lecturing the children
                              on what they may do and may not do. I tried to make it quite clear to him that he was not
                              our landlord, though he clearly thinks otherwise. After he had gone I had to take two
                              aspirin and lie down to recover my composure! I had been warned that he has this effect
                              on people.

                              Mr Shenkel is a short and ugly man, his clothes are stained with food and he
                              wears steel rimmed glasses tied round his head with a piece of dirty elastic because
                              one earpiece is missing. He speaks with a thick German accent but his English is fluent
                              and I believe he is a cultured and clever man. But he is maddening. The children were
                              more amused than impressed by his exhortations and have happily Christened our
                              home, ‘Old Shenks’.

                              The house has very large grounds as the place is really a derelict farm. It suits us
                              down to the ground. We had no sooner unpacked than George went off on safari after
                              those maneating lions in the Njombe District. he accounted for one, and a further two
                              jointly with a Game Scout, before we left for England. But none was shot during the five
                              months we were away as George’s relief is quite inexperienced in such work. George
                              thinks that there are still about a dozen maneaters at large. His theory is that a female
                              maneater moved into the area in 1938 when maneating first started, and brought up her
                              cubs to be maneaters, and those cubs in turn did the same. The three maneating lions
                              that have been shot were all in very good condition and not old and maimed as
                              maneaters usually are.

                              George anticipates that it will be months before all these lions are accounted for
                              because they are constantly on the move and cover a very large area. The lions have to
                              be hunted on foot because they range over broken country covered by bush and fairly
                              dense thicket.

                              I did a bit of shooting myself yesterday and impressed our African servants and
                              the children and myself. What a fluke! Our houseboy came to say that there was a snake
                              in the garden, the biggest he had ever seen. He said it was too big to kill with a stick and
                              would I shoot it. I had no gun but a heavy .450 Webley revolver and I took this and
                              hurried out with the children at my heels.

                              The snake turned out to be an unusually large puff adder which had just shed its
                              skin. It looked beautiful in a repulsive way. So flanked by servants and children I took
                              aim and shot, not hitting the head as I had planned, but breaking the snake’s back with
                              the heavy bullet. The two native boys then rushed up with sticks and flattened the head.
                              “Ma you’re a crack shot,” cried the kids in delighted surprise. I hope to rest on my laurels
                              for a long, long while.

                              Although there are only a few weeks of school term left the four older children will
                              start school on Monday. Not only am I pleased with our new home here but also with
                              the staff I have engaged. Our new houseboy, Reuben, (but renamed Robin by our
                              children) is not only cheerful and willing but intelligent too, and Jumbe, the wood and
                              garden boy, is a born clown and a source of great entertainment to the children.

                              I feel sure that we are all going to be very happy here at ‘Old Shenks!.

                              Eleanor.

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