Search Results for 'tell'

Forums Search Search Results for 'tell'

Viewing 20 results - 181 through 200 (of 915 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #6389

    “What in the good name of our Lady, have these two been on?” Miss Bossy was at a loss for words while Ricardo was waiting sheepishly at her desk, as though he was expecting an outburst.
    “Look, Ricardo, I’m not against a little tweaking for newsworthiness, but this takes twisting reality to a whole new level!

    Ricardo had just dropped their last article.

    Local Hero at the Rescue – Stray Residents found after in a trip of a lifetime
    article by Hilda Astoria & Continuity Brown

    In a daring and heroic move, Nurse Trassie, a local hero and all-around fantastic human being, managed to track down and rescue three elderly women who had gone on an adventure of a lifetime. Sharon, Mavis, and Gloria (names may have been altered to preserve their anonymity) were residents of a UK nursing home who, in a moment of pure defiance and desire for adventure, decided to go off their meds and escape to the Nordics.

    The three women, who had been feeling cooped up and underappreciated in their nursing home, decided to take matters into their own hands and embark on a journey to see the world. They had heard of the beautiful landscapes and friendly people of the Nordics and their rejuvenating traditional cures and were determined to experience it for themselves.

    Their journey, however, was not without its challenges. They faced many obstacles, including harsh weather conditions and language barriers. But they were determined to press on, and their determination paid off when they were taken in by a kind-hearted local doctor who gave them asylum and helped them rehabilitate stray animals.

    Nurse Trassie, who had been on the lookout for the women since their disappearance, finally caught wind of their whereabouts and set out to rescue them. She tracked them down to the Nordics, where she found them living in a small facility in the woods, surrounded by a menagerie of stray animals they had taken in and were nursing back to health, including rare orangutans retired from local circus.

    Upon her arrival, Nurse Trassie was greeted with open arms by the women, who were overjoyed to see her. They told her of their adventures and showed her around their cabin, introducing her to the animals they had taken in and the progress they had made in rehabilitating them.

    Nurse Trassie, who is known for her compassion and dedication to her patients, was deeply touched by the women’s story and their love for the animals. She knew that they needed to be back in the care of professionals and that the animals needed to be properly cared for, so she made arrangements to bring them back home.

    The women were reluctant to leave their newfound home and the animals they had grown to love, but they knew that it was the right thing to do. They said their goodbyes and set off on the long journey back home with Nurse Trassie by their side.

    The three women returned to their nursing home filled with stories to share, and Nurse Trassie was hailed as a hero for her efforts in rescuing them. They were greeted with cheers and applause from the staff and other residents, who were thrilled to have them back safe and sound.

    Nurse Trassie, who is known for her sharp wit and sense of humor, commented on the situation with a tongue-in-cheek remark, “It’s not every day that you get to rescue three feisty elderlies from the wilds of the Nordics and bring them back to safety. I’m just glad I could be of service.”

    In conclusion, the three women’s adventure in the Nordics may have been unorthodox, but it was an adventure nonetheless. They were able to see the world and help some animals in the process. Their story serves as a reminder to never give up on your dreams, no matter your age or circumstances. And of course, a big shoutout to Nurse Trassie for her heroic actions and dedication to her patients.

    Bossy sighed. “It might do for now, but don’t let those two abuse the artificial intelligence to write article for them… I liked their old style better. This feels too… tidy. We’re not the A-News network, let’s not forget our purpose.”

    Ricardo nodded. Miss Bossy had been more mellow since the sales of the newspaper had exploded during the pandemic. With people at home, looking for conspiracies and all, the newspaper had known a resurgence of interest, and they even had to hire new staff. Giles Gibber, Glimmer Gambol (came heavily recommended by Blithe, the PI friend of Hilda’s), Samuel Sproink and Fionna Flibbergibbet.

    “And how is Sophie? That adventure into her past trauma was a bit much on her…” she mused.

    “She’s doing alright” answered Ricardo. “She’s learning to hone her remote-viewing skills to send our staff into new mysteries to solve. With a bit of AI assist…”

    “Oh, stop it already with your AI-this, AI-that! Hope there’ll still be room for some madness in all that neatly tidy purring of polite output.”

    “That’s why we’re here for, I reckon.” Ric’ smiled wryly.

    #6388

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    Youssef came out of the Internet Cafe Yurt quite satisfied of himself but confused. It was already night time here and he felt hungry like a bear looking for honey. He smelled the scents of yak’s meat and followed the trail to the resto’yurt of the camp the production had settled in for the night. They were on a trip to make a documentary about the last surviving authentic shaman of Mongolia. They’d heard he was still alive and 125 years old. Of course, he was difficult to find and they’ve been looking for him for weeks.

    Fortunately, they had good reception for him to stay in contact with his friends and play the new game with that AI generated storyline stuff. Youssef liked his character with the bear shirt, but he wouldn’t tell his friends that he hadn’t  quite understood the concept of the game or of the quest. He was the kind of guy who liked having some explanations first and follow clear rules, have a little guidance. He smiled and performed two steps of breakdance, recalling one of Xavier’s joke about a little “guy dance”. His stomach growled as he approached the resto’yurt and the scent of food became stronger. The sounds of cheerful conversations in different languages welcomed him as he entered.

    He’ll have plenty of time to think of the game in front a spicy smorlax fried and a bowl of sweet tsampa for dessert. He noticed an empty seat just near Rebbecca, a young intern that took care of Mme Landowski’s schedule. She was smiling and Youssef thought they could continue the conversation they started this morning about the type of guys she liked.

     

    #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.

      #6380

      In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        After a few tries:

        1. As the group has split up at the fork of the road, we discover a total of 4 new characters from the Land of the Quirks. Tell us how each group is encountering some or all of these characters, who they are, their gibberish-sounding names, and what is their quirks, and what they wear, or their activities. Make our main characters and maybe some of the new ones meet back at a common spot with a special event after that.
        2. please rewrite the above, retaining the eccentricity but more grounded, less childish, and with a little darker tone and mystery.
        3. please try again, make Spoink and Flibbertigibbet human and give them less endearing or friendly behaviours; name two more characters met on the road.

        As the group split up at the fork of the road, each one encountered new characters from the Land of the Quirks.

        Zara and Yasmin, who took the left path, met a man named “Sproink” who was a small, wiry man with a spring for a tail. He was always bouncing around and speaking in a language that sounded like a mix of gibberish and music. Sproink was a collector of shiny objects and had a bag full of them, he was also a scavenger, always looking for things to add to his collection. He was wearing a small top hat and a monocle. He was also known to be a bit of a thief and a con artist.

        Xavier and Youssef, who took the right path, met a woman named “Flibbertigibbet” a tall, slender woman that had multiple arms. Flibbertigibbet was very talkative and friendly, always trying to strike up a conversation. She spoke in a language that sounded like a mix of gibberish and baby talk. She was a chef and was always carrying a pot and a spoon, but she also had a dark side, she was known to be a bit of a manipulator and a spy, always observing and gathering information for a mysterious organization. She was wearing a big chef hat and apron.

        As the group met back at the fork, they were surprised to find that Sproink and Flibbertigibbet had also met there. The four new characters joined the group, and together they continued their journey to find the “Key of Quirks”. Along the way, they met two more characters;

        They met a man named “Gibber” who was a tall, gaunt man with elongated limbs and fingers. He was always speaking in a language that sounded like a mix of gibberish and numbers. He was a mathematician and a scientist, always working on complex equations and theories. He was known to be a bit of a loner, and didn’t interact much with others. He was wearing a lab coat and goggles.

        They also met a woman named “Glimmer” she was a short, plump woman with a shimmering skin that seemed to change color depending on the light. She was always speaking in a language that sounded like a mix of gibberish and poetry. She was an artist and a performer, always creating and performing in different shows. She was known to be a bit of a flirt and a bit of a drama queen. She was wearing a colorful and eccentric clothing, such as a flowy dress and a large hat adorned with feathers.

        As the group journeyed on, they encountered more characters, each one with their own unique quirks and personalities. They met a variety of people, some friendly and some not so friendly, but all of them adding to the mysterious and unknown nature of the Land of the Quirks.

        As the group reached the end of their journey and found the “Key of Quirks”, they realized that the key was not just a physical object but a symbol of acceptance and embracing individuality. They learned that the true key to leaving the Land of the Quirks was understanding and accepting the quirks of oneself and others.

        The group had a bittersweet goodbye with their new friends, Sproink, Flibbertigibbet, Gibber and Glimmer, and the other characters they had met. They knew that they would always carry a piece of the Land of the Quirks with them and would always remember the mysterious and eccentric adventure they had.

        #6379

        In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Asking to give each of the 4 characters some particular traits that makes them uniquely distinctive and recognizable

          The four friends, Zara, Xavier, Yasmin, and Youssef, each have their own unique traits that make them stand out and recognizable.

          Zara is the leader of the group, 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.

          Xavier is the joker of the group, always cracking jokes and making puns. He is a free-spirited person who is always up for an adventure, he has a great sense of humor and is not afraid to be himself. He is also an artist and often carries a sketchbook and pencils with him, he likes to draw whatever he sees in his journeys.

          Yasmin is the brains of the group, she is intelligent and logical. She is always able to think on her feet and come up with a plan when things get tough. She is also a bit of a perfectionist and likes to have everything organized. She is a history buff and always carries a notebook with her to document her findings.

          Youssef is the muscle of the group, He is physically strong, and always ready to help out in a fight. He is also a bit of a foodie and loves trying new dishes. He is always the first one to volunteer to carry the heavy bags and equipment. He is also a bit of a daredevil and loves trying out new sports and activities.

          Give each of them a color, and an animal, and a secret name in a funny language

          The four friends, Zara, Xavier, Yasmin, and Youssef, each have their own unique traits that make them stand out and recognizable.

          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”

          Xavier is the joker of the group, his color is orange, his animal is a monkey, and his secret name in a funny language is “Xavimunk”

          Yasmin is the brains of the group, her color is blue, her animal is an owl, and her secret name in a funny language is “Yasminowl”

          Youssef is the muscle of the group, his color is green, his animal is a bear, and his secret name in a funny language is “Youssefbear”

          Now, we need physical descriptions for each of them. Also, their ages, height, clothes, facial features, ethnicity (for instance Youssef may be half Yemeni and half Norwegian), etc. with a good mix of generic and eccentric. We also need surnames congruent with their described ethnicity, not too bland, but not too daft either. For instance Youssef Olafsson, Zara Patara-Smythe, etc. Also explain how they become friends.

          Zara Patara-Smythe is a 25-year-old woman of mixed heritage, her mother is Indian and her father is British. She has long, dark hair that she keeps in a sleek 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.

          Xavier Olafsson is a 27-year-old man of Norwegian and Danish descent. He has blonde hair that he keeps in a messy style, blue eyes, and a charming smile. He stands at 6’1″ and has a lean build. He is always seen wearing a colorful and bold clothing, such as a Hawaiian shirt and shorts.

          Yasmin Ahmed is a 23-year-old woman of Egyptian descent. She has long, black hair that she keeps in a tight braid, dark brown eyes and a round face. She stands at 5’4″ and has a petite build. She usually wears conservative clothing, such as long skirts and blouses.

          Youssef Ali is a 26-year-old man of half Yemeni, half Norwegian descent. He has short, curly black hair, dark brown eyes and a square jawline. He stands at 6’2″ and has a muscular build. He usually wears comfortable clothing such as a t-shirt and jeans, and always has a backpack on his shoulder.

          The four of them became friends in college, they were all studying different majors, but they all shared a love for adventure and exploration. They found themselves in the same class project, and from there they formed a strong bond. After college, they decided to keep exploring the world together, and went on many trips and adventures, always seeking for something new and exciting.

          1/ Change the ages of Zara, Xavier, Yasmin and Youssef to more random patterns – rewrite if needed how they met each other to reflect eventual age gaps. Give them some flaws, mental or physical challenges.
          2/ increase again the age gaps while keeping the youngest one a young adult, and remove “minor” from the flaws descriptions

          Zara is a 22-year-old woman who is the youngest of the group. She is a free-spirited, adventurous person, but also a bit reckless and impulsive. She has a scar on her cheek that she got from a Skateboarding accident when she was a teenager.

          Xavier is a 45-year-old man who is the oldest of the group. He is a responsible and level-headed person, but also a bit of a perfectionist and can be hard on himself and others. He has dyslexia which he has been able to work around and it doesn’t impede his daily life.

          Yasmin is a 38-year-old woman who is the second oldest of the group. She is a kind and compassionate person, but also a bit of a pushover and can have trouble standing up for herself. She has social anxiety that affect her in certain situations and she have been working on coping mechanisms.

          Youssef is a 33-year-old man who is the second youngest of the group. He is a charismatic and outgoing person, but also a bit of a flirt and can be a bit insensitive to others feelings. He has ADHD which he has been able to manage with medication, but it still affects him from time to time.

          The group met each other through different means, Xavier and Yasmin met at work, Zara and Youssef met at a college class, and eventually, they all became friends through common interests and activities. They decided to go on this adventure together because they were all looking for a change in their lives and wanted to explore the unknown.

          #6368
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            Something in the style of FPooh:

            Arona heard the music growing louder as she approached the source of the sound. She could see a group of people gathered around a large fire, the flickering light casting shadows on the faces of the dancers. She hesitated for a moment, remembering the isolation of her journey and wondering if she was ready to be among people again. But the music was too inviting, and she found herself drawn towards the group.

            As she neared the fire, she saw a young man playing a flute, the music flowing from his fingers with a fluid grace that captivated her. He looked up as she approached, and their eyes met. She could see the surprise and curiosity in his gaze, and she smiled, feeling a sense of connection she had not felt in a long time.

            Fiona was sitting on a bench in the park, watching the children play. She had brought her sketchbook with her, but for once she didn’t feel the urge to draw. Instead she watched the children’s laughter, feeling content and at peace. Suddenly, she saw a young girl running towards her, a look of pure joy on her face. The girl stopped in front of her and held out a flower, offering it to Fiona with a smile.

            Taken aback, Fiona took the flower and thanked the girl. The girl giggled and ran off to join her friends. Fiona looked down at the flower in her hand, and she felt a sense of inspiration, like a spark igniting within her. She opened her sketchbook and began to draw, feeling the weight lift from her shoulders and the magic of creativity flowing through her.

            Minky led the group of misfits towards the emporium, his bowler hat bobbing on his head. He chattered excitedly, telling stories of the wondrous items to be found within Mr Jib’s store. Yikesy followed behind, still lost in his thoughts of Arona and feeling a sense of dread at the thought of buying a bowler hat. The green fairy flitted along beside him, her wings a blur of movement as she chattered with the parrot perched on her shoulder.

            As they reached the emporium, they were disappointed to find it closed. But Minky refused to be discouraged, and he led them to a nearby cafe where they could sit and enjoy some tea and cake while they wait for the emporium to open. The green fairy was delighted, and she ordered a plate of macarons, smiling as she tasted the sweetness of the confections.

            About creativity & everyday magic

            Fiona had always been drawn to the magic of creativity, the way a blank page could be transformed into a world of wonder and beauty. But lately, she had been feeling stuck, unable to find the spark that ignited her imagination. She would sit with her sketchbook, pencil in hand, and nothing would come to her.

            She started to question her abilities, wondering if she had lost the magic of her art. She spent long hours staring at her blank pages, feeling a weight on her chest that seemed to be growing heavier every day.

            But then she remembered the green fairy’s tears and Yikesy’s longing for Arona, and she realized that the magic of creativity wasn’t something that could be found only in art. It was all around her, in the everyday moments of life.

            She started to look for the magic in the small things, like the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, or the way a child’s laughter could light up a room. She found it in the way a stranger’s smile could lift her spirits, and in the way a simple cup of tea could bring her comfort.

            And as she started to see the magic in the everyday, she found that the weight on her chest lifted and the spark of inspiration returned. She picked up her pencil and began to draw, feeling the magic flowing through her once again.

            She understand that creativity blocks aren’t a destination, but just a step, just like the bowler hat that Minky had bought for them all, a bit of everyday magic, nothing too fancy but a sense of belonging, a sense of who they are and where they are going. And she let her pencil flow, with the hopes that one day, they will all find their way home.

            #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.
              #6364
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                Please suggest a creative, a little ghostic but mostly uplifting plot outline for the continuation of the story of Twilight in her travels to join the freak circus and become famous for her craft on the west coast

                — The Far-West saga — In 1850s, in a probable reality of South America, we get acquainted with Twilight (Twi) and her brothers Jo and Elroy. They have a precious blue bull in their possession, coveted by Ogrean, the kingpin of the town. Hopefully for them, Ogrean is arrested (temporarily) by Ted Marshall, the sheriff for his possible trafficking. Notably, Ogrean is possibly involved in some of the crystal skulls discoveries, during his travel to New Honduras. Twi who was dancing in the saloon of Madame Butterbutt, the town’s hallucinogenic toads-to-lick dispenser (insert some other romantic subplots involving the other dancer etc.) decides to go traveling in a freakus (freak show/circus). She is now close to the West Coast, where she hopes to succeed in her writing and other artistic skills.

                As Twilight (Twi) travels with the freak circus, she faces many challenges and obstacles on her journey to the West Coast. Despite the difficulties, she remains determined to make a name for herself as a writer and artist.

                As she travels through small towns and larger cities, she begins to realize that the world is much bigger than she ever imagined. She meets a diverse group of people, some of whom are kind and supportive, while others are cruel and dismissive of her dreams.

                Despite the negative reactions she receives from some people, Twi persists and begins to gain a reputation as a talented writer and performer. As she gains more experience and confidence, she starts to incorporate her own unique style into her performances, which sets her apart from the other performers in the circus.

                As she approaches the West Coast, she begins to feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. She has heard that the West Coast is a place of endless possibilities, where creative minds can thrive. She is determined to make her mark and become famous for her craft.

                As she settles in the west, she finds herself surrounded by artists and writers like herself, who inspire her to push herself even further. She begins to gain a following and her writing is widely read. She discovers that her talent is not only limited to writing, but she also has a natural talent for other art forms as well.

                Eventually, Twi’s reputation as a talented artist and writer precedes her and she becomes a sought-after performer in the West Coast, and her creative work is being showcased in galleries and theaters. As she continues to achieve success in her career, she begins to realize that the West Coast is not just a place of endless possibilities but also the place where she belongs, and the place where her dreams come true.

                Throughout her journey, she also keeps in touch with her brothers, Jo and Elroy, who now run the farm and take care of the blue bull. They tell her that the bull, now named Blue-Dream, became a legend in the village and they get a good price for its breeding.

                As the story continues, she finds herself also involved in some adventures and exciting subplots, like discovering a secret underground cave filled with precious crystals and some interesting characters, like the enigmatic sheriff Ted Marshall who always cross her path, and the mysterious Ogrean who seems to have a connection to her past and the bull.

                The End.

                #6343
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum

                  William James Stokes

                   

                  William James Stokes was the first son of Thomas Stokes and Eliza Browning. Oddly, his birth was registered in Witham in Essex, on the 6th September 1841.

                  Birth certificate of William James Stokes:

                  birth William Stokes

                   

                  His father Thomas Stokes has not yet been found on the 1841 census, and his mother Eliza was staying with her uncle Thomas Lock in Cirencester in 1841. Eliza’s mother Mary Browning (nee Lock) was staying there too. Thomas and Eliza were married in September 1840 in Hempstead in Gloucestershire.

                  It’s a mystery why William was born in Essex but one possibility is that his father Thomas, who later worked with the Chipperfields making circus wagons, was staying with the Chipperfields who were wheelwrights in Witham in 1841. Or perhaps even away with a traveling circus at the time of the census, learning the circus waggon wheelwright trade. But this is a guess and it’s far from clear why Eliza would make the journey to Witham to have the baby when she was staying in Cirencester a few months prior.

                  In 1851 Thomas and Eliza, William and four younger siblings were living in Bledington in Oxfordshire.

                  William was a 19 year old wheelwright living with his parents in Evesham in 1861. He married Elizabeth Meldrum in December 1867 in Hackney, London. He and his father are both wheelwrights on the marriage register.

                  Marriage of William James Stokes and Elizabeth Meldrum in 1867:

                  1867 William Stokes

                   

                  William and Elizabeth had a daughter, Elizabeth Emily Stokes, in 1868 in Shoreditch, London.

                  On the 3rd of December 1870, William James Stokes was admitted to Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum. One week later on the 10th of December, he was dead.

                  On his death certificate the cause of death was “general paralysis and exhaustion, certified. MD Edgar Sheppard in attendance.” William was just 29 years old.

                  Death certificate William James Stokes:

                  death William Stokes

                   

                  I asked on a genealogy forum what could possibly have caused this death at such a young age. A retired pathology professor replied that “in medicine the term General Paralysis is only used in one context – that of Tertiary Syphilis.”
                  “Tertiary syphilis is the third and final stage of syphilis, a sexually transmitted disease that unfolds in stages when the individual affected doesn’t receive appropriate treatment.”

                  From the article “Looking back: This fascinating and fatal disease” by Jennifer Wallis:

                  “……in asylums across Britain in the late 19th century, with hundreds of people receiving the diagnosis of general paralysis of the insane (GPI). The majority of these were men in their 30s and 40s, all exhibiting one or more of the disease’s telltale signs: grandiose delusions, a staggering gait, disturbed reflexes, asymmetrical pupils, tremulous voice, and muscular weakness. Their prognosis was bleak, most dying within months, weeks, or sometimes days of admission.

                  The fatal nature of GPI made it of particular concern to asylum superintendents, who became worried that their institutions were full of incurable cases requiring constant care. The social effects of the disease were also significant, attacking men in the prime of life whose admission to the asylum frequently left a wife and children at home. Compounding the problem was the erratic behaviour of the general paralytic, who might get themselves into financial or legal difficulties. Delusions about their vast wealth led some to squander scarce family resources on extravagant purchases – one man’s wife reported he had bought ‘a quantity of hats’ despite their meagre income – and doctors pointed to the frequency of thefts by general paralytics who imagined that everything belonged to them.”

                   

                  The London Archives hold the records for Colney Hatch, but they informed me that the particular records for the dates that William was admitted and died were in too poor a condition to be accessed without causing further damage.

                  Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum gained such notoriety that the name “Colney Hatch” appeared in various terms of abuse associated with the concept of madness. Infamous inmates that were institutionalized at Colney Hatch (later called Friern Hospital) include Jack the Ripper suspect Aaron Kosminski from 1891, and from 1911 the wife of occultist Aleister Crowley. In 1993 the hospital grounds were sold and the exclusive apartment complex called Princess Park Manor was built.

                  Colney Hatch:

                  Colney Hatch

                   

                  In 1873 Williams widow married William Hallam in Limehouse in London. Elizabeth died in 1930, apparently unaffected by her first husbands ailment.

                  #6334
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    The House on Penn Common

                    Toi Fang and the Duke of Sutherland

                     

                    Tomlinsons

                     

                     

                    Penn Common

                    Grassholme

                     

                    Charles Tomlinson (1873-1929) my great grandfather, was born in Wolverhampton in 1873. His father Charles Tomlinson (1847-1907) was a licensed victualler or publican, or alternatively a vet/castrator. He married Emma Grattidge (1853-1911) in 1872. On the 1881 census they were living at The Wheel in Wolverhampton.

                    Charles married Nellie Fisher (1877-1956) in Wolverhampton in 1896. In 1901 they were living next to the post office in Upper Penn, with children (Charles) Sidney Tomlinson (1896-1955), and Hilda Tomlinson (1898-1977) . Charles was a vet/castrator working on his own account.

                    In 1911 their address was 4, Wakely Hill, Penn, and living with them were their children Hilda, Frank Tomlinson (1901-1975), (Dorothy) Phyllis Tomlinson (1905-1982), Nellie Tomlinson (1906-1978) and May Tomlinson (1910-1983). Charles was a castrator working on his own account.

                    Charles and Nellie had a further four children: Charles Fisher Tomlinson (1911-1977), Margaret Tomlinson (1913-1989) (my grandmother Peggy), Major Tomlinson (1916-1984) and Norah Mary Tomlinson (1919-2010).

                    My father told me that my grandmother had fallen down the well at the house on Penn Common in 1915 when she was two years old, and sent me a photo of her standing next to the well when she revisted the house at a much later date.

                    Peggy next to the well on Penn Common:

                    Peggy well Penn

                     

                    My grandmother Peggy told me that her father had had a racehorse called Toi Fang. She remembered the racing colours were sky blue and orange, and had a set of racing silks made which she sent to my father.
                    Through a DNA match, I met Ian Tomlinson. Ian is the son of my fathers favourite cousin Roger, Frank’s son. Ian found some racing silks and sent a photo to my father (they are now in contact with each other as a result of my DNA match with Ian), wondering what they were.

                    Toi Fang

                     

                    When Ian sent a photo of these racing silks, I had a look in the newspaper archives. In 1920 there are a number of mentions in the racing news of Mr C Tomlinson’s horse TOI FANG. I have not found any mention of Toi Fang in the newspapers in the following years.

                    The Scotsman – Monday 12 July 1920:

                    Toi Fang

                     

                     

                    The other story that Ian Tomlinson recalled was about the house on Penn Common. Ian said he’d heard that the local titled person took Charles Tomlinson to court over building the house but that Tomlinson won the case because it was built on common land and was the first case of it’s kind.

                    Penn Common

                     

                    Penn Common Right of Way Case:
                    Staffordshire Advertiser March 9, 1912

                    In the chancery division, on Tuesday, before Mr Justice Joyce, it was announced that a settlement had been arrived at of the Penn Common Right of Way case, the hearing of which occupied several days last month. The action was brought by the Duke of Sutherland (as Lord of the Manor of Penn) and Mr Harry Sydney Pitt (on behalf of himself and other freeholders of the manor having a right to pasturage on Penn Common) to restrain Mr James Lakin, Carlton House, Penn; Mr Charles Tomlinson, Mayfield Villa, Wakely Hill, Penn; and Mr Joseph Harold Simpkin, Dudley Road, Wolverhampton, from drawing building materials across the common, or otherwise causing injury to the soil.

                    The real point in dispute was whether there was a public highway for all purposes running by the side of the defendants land from the Turf Tavern past the golf club to the Barley Mow.
                    Mr Hughes, KC for the plaintiffs, now stated that the parties had been in consultation, and had come to terms, the substance of which was that the defendants admitted that there was no public right of way, and that they were granted a private way. This, he thought, would involve the granting of some deed or deeds to express the rights of the parties, and he suggested that the documents should be be settled by some counsel to be mutually agreed upon.

                    His lordship observed that the question of coal was probably the important point. Mr Younger said Mr Tomlinson was a freeholder, and the plaintiffs could not mine under him. Mr Hughes: The coal actually under his house is his, and, of course, subsidence might be produced by taking away coal some distance away. I think some document is required to determine his actual rights.
                    Mr Younger said he wanted to avoid anything that would increase the costs, but, after further discussion, it was agreed that Mr John Dixon (an expert on mineral rights), or failing him, another counsel satisfactory to both parties, should be invited to settle the terms scheduled in the agreement, in order to prevent any further dispute.

                     

                    Penn Common case

                     

                    The name of the house is Grassholme.  The address of Mayfield Villas is the house they were living in while building Grassholme, which I assume they had not yet moved in to at the time of the newspaper article in March 1912.

                     

                     

                    What my grandmother didn’t tell anyone was how her father died in 1929:

                     

                    1929 Charles Tomlinson

                     

                     

                    On the 1921 census, Charles, Nellie and eight of their children were living at 269 Coleman Street, Wolverhampton.

                    1921 census Tomlinson

                     

                     

                    They were living on Coleman Street in 1915 when Charles was fined for staying open late.

                    Staffordshire Advertiser – Saturday 13 February 1915:

                     

                    1915 butcher fined

                     

                    What is not yet clear is why they moved from the house on Penn Common sometime between 1912 and 1915. And why did he have a racehorse in 1920?

                    #6333
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      The Grattidge Family

                       

                      The first Grattidge to appear in our tree was Emma Grattidge (1853-1911) who married Charles Tomlinson (1847-1907) in 1872.

                      Charles Tomlinson (1873-1929) was their son and he married my great grandmother Nellie Fisher. Their daughter Margaret (later Peggy Edwards) was my grandmother on my fathers side.

                      Emma Grattidge was born in Wolverhampton, the daughter and youngest child of William Grattidge (1820-1887) born in Foston, Derbyshire, and Mary Stubbs, born in Burton on Trent, daughter of Solomon Stubbs, a land carrier. William and Mary married at St Modwens church, Burton on Trent, in 1839. It’s unclear why they moved to Wolverhampton. On the 1841 census William was employed as an agent, and their first son William was nine months old. Thereafter, William was a licensed victuallar or innkeeper.

                      William Grattidge was born in Foston, Derbyshire in 1820. His parents were Thomas Grattidge, farmer (1779-1843) and Ann Gerrard (1789-1822) from Ellastone. Thomas and Ann married in 1813 in Ellastone. They had five children before Ann died at the age of 25:

                      Bessy was born in 1815, Thomas in 1818, William in 1820, and Daniel Augustus and Frederick were twins born in 1822. They were all born in Foston. (records say Foston, Foston and Scropton, or Scropton)

                      On the 1841 census Thomas had nine people additional to family living at the farm in Foston, presumably agricultural labourers and help.

                      After Ann died, Thomas had three children with Kezia Gibbs (30 years his junior) before marrying her in 1836, then had a further four with her before dying in 1843. Then Kezia married Thomas’s nephew Frederick Augustus Grattidge (born in 1816 in Stafford) in London in 1847 and had two more!

                       

                      The siblings of William Grattidge (my 3x great grandfather):

                       

                      Frederick Grattidge (1822-1872) was a schoolmaster and never married. He died at the age of 49 in Tamworth at his twin brother Daniels address.

                      Daniel Augustus Grattidge (1822-1903) was a grocer at Gungate in Tamworth.

                      Thomas Grattidge (1818-1871) married in Derby, and then emigrated to Illinois, USA.

                      Bessy Grattidge  (1815-1840) married John Buxton, farmer, in Ellastone in January 1838. They had three children before Bessy died in December 1840 at the age of 25: Henry in 1838, John in 1839, and Bessy Buxton in 1840. Bessy was baptised in January 1841. Presumably the birth of Bessy caused the death of Bessy the mother.

                      Bessy Buxton’s gravestone:

                      “Sacred to the memory of Bessy Buxton, the affectionate wife of John Buxton of Stanton She departed this life December 20th 1840, aged 25 years. “Husband, Farewell my life is Past, I loved you while life did last. Think on my children for my sake, And ever of them with I take.”

                      20 Dec 1840, Ellastone, Staffordshire

                      Bessy Buxton

                       

                      In the 1843 will of Thomas Grattidge, farmer of Foston, he leaves fifth shares of his estate, including freehold real estate at Findern,  to his wife Kezia, and sons William, Daniel, Frederick and Thomas. He mentions that the children of his late daughter Bessy, wife of John Buxton, will be taken care of by their father.  He leaves the farm to Keziah in confidence that she will maintain, support and educate his children with her.

                      An excerpt from the will:

                      I give and bequeath unto my dear wife Keziah Grattidge all my household goods and furniture, wearing apparel and plate and plated articles, linen, books, china, glass, and other household effects whatsoever, and also all my implements of husbandry, horses, cattle, hay, corn, crops and live and dead stock whatsoever, and also all the ready money that may be about my person or in my dwelling house at the time of my decease, …I also give my said wife the tenant right and possession of the farm in my occupation….

                      A page from the 1843 will of Thomas Grattidge:

                      1843 Thomas Grattidge

                       

                      William Grattidges half siblings (the offspring of Thomas Grattidge and Kezia Gibbs):

                       

                      Albert Grattidge (1842-1914) was a railway engine driver in Derby. In 1884 he was driving the train when an unfortunate accident occured outside Ambergate. Three children were blackberrying and crossed the rails in front of the train, and one little girl died.

                      Albert Grattidge:

                      Albert Grattidge

                       

                      George Grattidge (1826-1876) was baptised Gibbs as this was before Thomas married Kezia. He was a police inspector in Derby.

                      George Grattidge:

                      George Grattidge

                       

                      Edwin Grattidge (1837-1852) died at just 15 years old.

                      Ann Grattidge (1835-) married Charles Fletcher, stone mason, and lived in Derby.

                      Louisa Victoria Grattidge (1840-1869) was sadly another Grattidge woman who died young. Louisa married Emmanuel Brunt Cheesborough in 1860 in Derby. In 1861 Louisa and Emmanuel were living with her mother Kezia in Derby, with their two children Frederick and Ann Louisa. Emmanuel’s occupation was sawyer. (Kezia Gibbs second husband Frederick Augustus Grattidge was a timber merchant in Derby)

                      At the time of her death in 1869, Emmanuel was the landlord of the White Hart public house at Bridgegate in Derby.

                      The Derby Mercury of 17th November 1869:

                      “On Wednesday morning Mr Coroner Vallack held an inquest in the Grand
                      Jury-room, Town-hall, on the body of Louisa Victoria Cheeseborough, aged
                      33, the wife of the landlord of the White Hart, Bridge-gate, who committed
                      suicide by poisoning at an early hour on Sunday morning. The following
                      evidence was taken:

                      Mr Frederick Borough, surgeon, practising in Derby, deposed that he was
                      called in to see the deceased about four o’clock on Sunday morning last. He
                      accordingly examined the deceased and found the body quite warm, but dead.
                      He afterwards made enquiries of the husband, who said that he was afraid
                      that his wife had taken poison, also giving him at the same time the
                      remains of some blue material in a cup. The aunt of the deceased’s husband
                      told him that she had seen Mrs Cheeseborough put down a cup in the
                      club-room, as though she had just taken it from her mouth. The witness took
                      the liquid home with him, and informed them that an inquest would
                      necessarily have to be held on Monday. He had made a post mortem
                      examination of the body, and found that in the stomach there was a great
                      deal of congestion. There were remains of food in the stomach and, having
                      put the contents into a bottle, he took the stomach away. He also examined
                      the heart and found it very pale and flabby. All the other organs were
                      comparatively healthy; the liver was friable.

                      Hannah Stone, aunt of the deceased’s husband, said she acted as a servant
                      in the house. On Saturday evening, while they were going to bed and whilst
                      witness was undressing, the deceased came into the room, went up to the
                      bedside, awoke her daughter, and whispered to her. but what she said the
                      witness did not know. The child jumped out of bed, but the deceased closed
                      the door and went away. The child followed her mother, and she also
                      followed them to the deceased’s bed-room, but the door being closed, they
                      then went to the club-room door and opening it they saw the deceased
                      standing with a candle in one hand. The daughter stayed with her in the
                      room whilst the witness went downstairs to fetch a candle for herself, and
                      as she was returning up again she saw the deceased put a teacup on the
                      table. The little girl began to scream, saying “Oh aunt, my mother is
                      going, but don’t let her go”. The deceased then walked into her bed-room,
                      and they went and stood at the door whilst the deceased undressed herself.
                      The daughter and the witness then returned to their bed-room. Presently
                      they went to see if the deceased was in bed, but she was sitting on the
                      floor her arms on the bedside. Her husband was sitting in a chair fast
                      asleep. The witness pulled her on the bed as well as she could.
                      Ann Louisa Cheesborough, a little girl, said that the deceased was her
                      mother. On Saturday evening last, about twenty minutes before eleven
                      o’clock, she went to bed, leaving her mother and aunt downstairs. Her aunt
                      came to bed as usual. By and bye, her mother came into her room – before
                      the aunt had retired to rest – and awoke her. She told the witness, in a
                      low voice, ‘that she should have all that she had got, adding that she
                      should also leave her her watch, as she was going to die’. She did not tell
                      her aunt what her mother had said, but followed her directly into the
                      club-room, where she saw her drink something from a cup, which she
                      afterwards placed on the table. Her mother then went into her own room and
                      shut the door. She screamed and called her father, who was downstairs. He
                      came up and went into her room. The witness then went to bed and fell
                      asleep. She did not hear any noise or quarrelling in the house after going
                      to bed.

                      Police-constable Webster was on duty in Bridge-gate on Saturday evening
                      last, about twenty minutes to one o’clock. He knew the White Hart
                      public-house in Bridge-gate, and as he was approaching that place, he heard
                      a woman scream as though at the back side of the house. The witness went to
                      the door and heard the deceased keep saying ‘Will you be quiet and go to
                      bed’. The reply was most disgusting, and the language which the
                      police-constable said was uttered by the husband of the deceased, was
                      immoral in the extreme. He heard the poor woman keep pressing her husband
                      to go to bed quietly, and eventually he saw him through the keyhole of the
                      door pass and go upstairs. his wife having gone up a minute or so before.
                      Inspector Fearn deposed that on Sunday morning last, after he had heard of
                      the deceased’s death from supposed poisoning, he went to Cheeseborough’s
                      public house, and found in the club-room two nearly empty packets of
                      Battie’s Lincoln Vermin Killer – each labelled poison.

                      Several of the Jury here intimated that they had seen some marks on the
                      deceased’s neck, as of blows, and expressing a desire that the surgeon
                      should return, and re-examine the body. This was accordingly done, after
                      which the following evidence was taken:

                      Mr Borough said that he had examined the body of the deceased and observed
                      a mark on the left side of the neck, which he considered had come on since
                      death. He thought it was the commencement of decomposition.
                      This was the evidence, after which the jury returned a verdict “that the
                      deceased took poison whilst of unsound mind” and requested the Coroner to
                      censure the deceased’s husband.

                      The Coroner told Cheeseborough that he was a disgusting brute and that the
                      jury only regretted that the law could not reach his brutal conduct.
                      However he had had a narrow escape. It was their belief that his poor
                      wife, who was driven to her own destruction by his brutal treatment, would
                      have been a living woman that day except for his cowardly conduct towards
                      her.

                      The inquiry, which had lasted a considerable time, then closed.”

                       

                      In this article it says:

                      “it was the “fourth or fifth remarkable and tragical event – some of which were of the worst description – that has taken place within the last twelve years at the White Hart and in the very room in which the unfortunate Louisa Cheesborough drew her last breath.”

                      Sheffield Independent – Friday 12 November 1869:

                      Louisa Cheesborough

                      #6318

                      In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

                      “You’d better sit down,” said Olga gesturing to the end of her bed. As a rule, she did not have visitors so she saw no need to clutter up the available space in her tiny room with an extra chair. A large proportion of her life was spent in her armchair and she was content that way. While Egbert perched on the end of the bed, she lowered herself into the soft and familiar confines of her armchair and felt instantly soothed. It was true, sometimes she felt a tinge of regret when she considered how disappointed her younger self would be to see her now. But she hadn’t lived through what I’ve lived through so she can mind her own damn business,” she thought.

                      “It is just a story, twisted in the telling I expect.” Olga knew her voice held no conviction.

                      Egbert opened his mouth as though to speak. Closed it again.

                      “You look like a fish,” said Olga folding her arms.

                      “They say you and the Mayor go back a long way. Are you telling me that is not true?

                      “And what if we do?”

                      “You know he is Ursula’s uncle and a very powerful man. They say even the great president Voldomeer Zumbaskee holds him in great regard. They say …”

                      “Pfft! They say!” snapped Olga. “Who are these chattering fools you listen to, Egbert Gofindlevsky?  I’d rather end up on the streets than ask a favour from that mountebank.”

                      Egbert jumped up from the bed and shook a fist at her. “And end up on the streets you will, Olga Herringbonevsky, along with the rest of us. You really want that on  your conscience?”

                      #6315

                      In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

                      It was not yet 9am and Eusebius Kazandis was already sweating. The morning sun was hitting hard on the tarp of his booth. He put the last cauldron among lines of cauldrons on a sagging table at the summer fair of Innsbruck, Austria. It was a tiny three-legged black cauldron with a simple Celtic knot on one side and a tree on the other side, like all the others. His father’s father’s father used to make cauldrons for a living, the kind you used to distil ouzo or cook meals for an Inn. But as time went by and industrialisation made it easier for cooks, the trade slowly evolved toward smaller cauldrons for modern Wiccans. A modern witch wanted it portable and light, ready to use in everyday life situations, and Eusebius was there to provide it for them.

                      Eusebius sat on his chair and sighed. He couldn’t help but notice the woman in colourful dress who had spread a shawl on the grass under the tall sequoia tree. Nobody liked this spot under the branches oozing sticky resin. She didn’t seem to mind. She was arranging small colourful bottles of oil on her shawl. A sign near her said : Massage oils, Fragrant oils, Polishing oils, all with different names evocative of different properties. He hadn’t noticed her yesterday when everybody was installing their stalls. He wondered if she had paid her fee.

                      Rosa was smiling as she spread in front of her the meadow flowers she’d picked on her way to the market. It was another beautiful day, under the shade and protection of the big sequoia tree watching over her. She assembled small bouquets and put them in between the vials containing her precious handmade oils. She had noticed people, and especially women, would naturally gather around well dressed stalls and engage conversation. Since she left her hometown of Torino, seven years ago, she’d followed the wind on her journey across Europe. It had led her to Innsbruck and had suddenly stopped blowing. That usually meant she had something to do there, but it also meant that she would have to figure out what she was meant to do before she could go on with her life.

                      The stout man waiting behind his dark cauldrons, was watching her again. He looked quite sad, and she couldn’t help but thinking he was not where he needed to be. When she looked at him, she saw Hephaestus whose inner fire had been tamed. His banner was a mishmash of religious stuff, aimed at pagans and budding witches. Although his grim booth would most certainly benefit from a feminine touch, but she didn’t want to offend him by a misplaced suggestion. It was not her place to find his place.

                      Rosa, who knew to cultivate any available friendship when she arrived somewhere, waved at the man. Startled, he looked away as if caught doing something inappropriate. Rosa sighed. Maybe she should have bring him some coffee.

                      As her first clients arrived, she prayed for a gush of wind to tell her where to go next. But the branches of the old tree remained perfectly still under the scorching sun.

                      #6313

                      In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

                      Egbert Gofindlevsky rapped on the door of room number 22.  The letter flapped against his pin striped trouser leg as his hand shook uncontrollably, his habitual tremor exacerbated with the shock.  Remembering that Obadiah Sproutwinklov was deaf, he banged loudly on the door with the flat of his hand.  Eventually the door creaked open.

                      Egbert flapped the letter in from of Obadiah’s face.  “Have you had one of these?” he asked.

                      “If you’d stop flapping it about I might be able to see what it is,” Obadiah replied.  “Oh that!  As a matter of fact I’ve had one just like it. The devils work, I tell you!  A practical joke, and in very poor taste!”

                      Egbert was starting to wish he’d gone to see Olga Herringbonevsky first.  “Can I come in?” he hissed, “So we can discuss it in private?”

                      Reluctantly Obadiah pulled the door open and ushered him inside the room.  Egbert looked around for a place to sit, but upon noticing a distinct odour of urine decided to remain standing.

                      “Ursula is booting us out, where are we to go?”

                      “Eh?” replied Obadiah, cupping his ear. “Speak up, man!”

                      Egbert repeated his question.

                      “No need to shout!”

                      The two old men endeavoured to conduct a conversation on this unexepected turn of events, the upshot being that Obadiah had no intention of leaving his room at all henceforth, come what may, and would happily starve to death in his room rather than take to the streets.

                      Egbert considered this form of action unhelpful, as he himself had no wish to starve to death in his room, so he removed himself from room 22 with a disgruntled sigh and made his way to Olga’s room on the third floor.

                      #6311

                      In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

                      Most of the pilgims, if one could call them that, flocked to the linden tree in cars, although some came on motorbikes and bicycles. Olek was grateful that they hadn’t started arriving by the bus load, like Italian tourists.  But his cousin Ursula was happy with this strange new turn of events.

                      Her shabby hotel on the outskirts of town had never been so busy and she was already planning to refurbish the premises and evict the decrepit and motley assortment of aged permanent residents who had just about kept her head above water, financially speaking, for the last twenty years. She could charge much more per night to these new tourists, who were smartly dressed and modern and didn’t argue about the price of a room.  They did complain about the damp stained wallpaper though and the threadbare bedding.  Ursula reckoned she could charge even more for the rooms if she redecorated, and had an idea to approach her nephew Boris the bank manager for a business loan.

                      But first she had to evict the old timers. It wasn’t her problem, she reminded herself, if they had nowhere else to go. After all, plenty of charitable aid money was flying around these days, they could easily just join up with some fleeing refugees.  She’d even sent some of her old dresses to the collection agency. They may have been forty years old and smelled of moth balls, but they were well made and the refugees would surely be grateful.

                      Ursula wasn’t looking forward to telling them. No, not at all!  She rather liked some of them and was dreading their reaction.  You are a business woman, Ursula, she told herself, and you have to look after your own interests!   But still she quailed at the thought of knocking on their doors, or announcing it in the communal dining room at supper. Then she had an idea. She’d type up some letters instead, and sign them as if they came from her new business manager.  When the residents approached her about the letter she would smile sadly and shrug, saying it wasn’t her decision and that she was terribly sorry but her hands were tied.

                      #6298

                      The Rootians invaded Oocrane when everybody was busy looking elsewhere. They entered through the Dumbass region under the pretense of freeing it from Lazies who had infiltrated administrations and media. They often cited a recent short movie from president Voldomeer Zumbaskee in which he appeared in purple leather panties adorned with diamonds, showing unashamedly his wooden leg. The same wooden leg that gave him the status of sexiest man of Oocrane and got him elected. In one of his famous discourses, he accused the Rootian president, Valdamir Potomsky of wanting to help himself to their crops of turnip and weed of which the world depended. And he told him if he expected Lazies he would be surprised by their resolution to defend their country.

                      By a simple game of chance that reality is so fond of, the man who made the president’s very wooden leg was also called Voldomeer Zumbasky. They might share a common ancestor, but many times in the past population records were destroyed and it was difficult to tell. That man lived in the small city of Duckailingtown in Dumbass, near the Rootian border. He was renowned to be a great carpenter and sculptor and before the war people would come from the neighbooring countries to buy his work.

                      During the invasion, crops and forests were burnt, buildings were destroyed and Dumbass Voldomeer lost one leg. There were no more trees or beams that hadn’t been turned to ashes, and he had only one block of wood left. Enough to make another wooden leg for himself. But he wondered: wasn’t there something more useful he could do with that block of wood ?

                      One morning of spring, one year after the war started. Food was scarce in Duckailingtown and Voldomeer’s belly growled as he walked past the nest of a couple of swans. He counted nine beautiful eggs that the parents were arranging with their beaks before lying on top to keep them warm. He found it so touching to see life in this place that he couldn’t bear the idea of simply stealing the eggs.

                      He went back home, a shelter made of bricks, his stomach aching from starvation. Looking at the block of wood on the floor, he got an idea. He spent the rest of the day and night to carve nine beautiful eggs so smooth that they appeared warm to the touch. He put so much care and love in his work that the swans would see no difference.

                      The next morning he went back to the nest with a leather bag, hopping heartily on his lone leg. The eggs were still there and by chance both the parents were missing. He didn’t care why. He took the eggs and replaced them with the wooden ones.

                      That day, he ate the best omelet with his friend Rooby, and as far as one could tell the swans were still brooding by the end of summer.

                      #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?

                      #6275
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        “AND NOW ABOUT EMMA”

                        and a mystery about George

                         

                        I had overlooked this interesting part of Barbara Housley’s “Narrative on the Letters” initially, perhaps because I was more focused on finding Samuel Housley.  But when I did eventually notice, I wondered how I had missed it!  In this particularly interesting letter excerpt from Joseph, Barbara has not put the date of the letter ~ unusually, because she did with all of the others.  However I dated the letter to later than 1867, because Joseph mentions his wife, and they married in 1867. This is important, because there are two Emma Housleys. Joseph had a sister Emma, born in 1836, two years before Joseph was born.  At first glance, one would assume that a reference to Emma in the letters would mean his sister, but Emma the sister was married in Derby in 1858, and by 1869 had four children.

                        But there was another Emma Housley, born in 1851.

                         

                        From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

                        “AND NOW ABOUT EMMA”

                        A MYSTERY

                        A very mysterious comment is contained in a letter from Joseph:

                        “And now about Emma.  I have only seen her once and she came to me to get your address but I did not feel at liberty to give it to her until I had wrote to you but however she got it from someone.  I think it was in this way.  I was so pleased to hear from you in the first place and with John’s family coming to see me I let them read one or two of your letters thinking they would like to hear of you and I expect it was Will that noticed your address and gave it to her.  She came up to our house one day when I was at work to know if I had heard from you but I had not heard from you since I saw her myself and then she called again after that and my wife showed her your boys’ portraits thinking no harm in doing so.”

                        At this point Joseph interrupted himself to thank them for sending the portraits.  The next sentence is:

                        “Your son JOHN I have never seen to know him but I hear he is rather wild,” followed by: “EMMA has been living out service but don’t know where she is now.”

                        Since Joseph had just been talking about the portraits of George’s three sons, one of whom is John Eley, this could be a reference to things George has written in despair about a teen age son–but could Emma be a first wife and John their son?  Or could Emma and John both be the children of a first wife?

                        Elsewhere, Joseph wrote, “AMY ELEY died 14 years ago. (circa 1858)  She left a son and a daughter.”

                        An Amey Eley and a George Housley were married on April 1, 1849 in Duffield which is about as far west of Smalley as Heanor is East.  She was the daughter of John, a framework knitter, and Sarah Eley.  George’s father is listed as William, a farmer.  Amey was described as “of full age” and made her mark on the marriage document.

                        Anne wrote in August 1854:  “JOHN ELEY is living at Derby Station so must take the first opportunity to get the receipt.” Was John Eley Housley named for him?

                        (John Eley Housley is George Housley’s son in USA, with his second wife, Sarah.)

                         

                        George Housley married Amey Eley in 1849 in Duffield.  George’s father on the register is William Housley, farmer.  Amey Eley’s father is John Eley, framework knitter.

                        George Housley Amey Eley

                         

                        On the 1851 census, George Housley and his wife Amey Housley are living with her parents in Heanor, John Eley, a framework knitter, and his wife Rebecca.  Also on the census are Charles J Housley, born in 1849 in Heanor, and Emma Housley, three months old at the time of the census, born in 1851.  George’s birth place is listed as Smalley.

                        1851 George Housley

                         

                         

                        On the 31st of July 1851 George Housley arrives in New York. In 1854 George Housley marries Sarah Ann Hill in USA.

                         

                        On the 1861 census in Heanor, Rebecca Eley was a widow, her husband John having died in 1852, and she had three grandchildren living with her: Charles J Housley aged 12, Emma Housley, 10, and mysteriously a William Housley aged 5!  Amey Housley, the childrens mother,  died in 1858.

                        Housley Eley 1861

                         

                        Back to the mysterious comment in Joseph’s letter.  Joseph couldn’t have been speaking of his sister Emma.  She was married with children by the time Joseph wrote that letter, so was not just out of service, and Joseph would have known where she was.   There is no reason to suppose that the sister Emma was trying unsuccessfully to find George’s addresss: she had been sending him letters for years.   Joseph must have been referring to George’s daughter Emma.

                        Joseph comments to George “Your son John…is rather wild.” followed by the remark about Emma’s whereabouts.  Could Charles John Housley have used his middle name of John instead of Charles?

                        As for the child William born five years after George left for USA, despite his name of Housley, which was his mothers married name, we can assume that he was not a Housley ~ not George’s child, anyway. It is not clear who his father was, as Amey did not remarry.

                        A further excerpt from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

                        Certainly there was some mystery in George’s life. George apparently wanted his whereabouts kept secret. Anne wrote: “People are at a loss to know where you are. The general idea is you are with Charles. We don’t satisfy them.” In that same letter Anne wrote: “I know you could not help thinking of us very often although you neglected writing…and no doubt would feel grieved for the trouble you at times caused (our mother). She freely forgives all.” Near the end of the letter, Anne added: “Mother sends her love to you and hopes you will write and if you want to tell her anything you don’t want all to see you must write it on a piece of loose paper and put it inside the letter.”

                        In a letter to George from his sister Emma:

                        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.”

                        It would seem that George Housley named his first son with his second wife after his first wife’s father ~ while he was married to both of them.

                         

                        Emma Housley

                        1851-1935

                         

                        In 1871 Emma was 20 years old and “in service” living as a lodger in West Hallam, not far from Heanor.  As she didn’t appear on a 1881 census, I looked for a marriage, but the only one that seemed right in every other way had Emma Housley’s father registered as Ralph Wibberly!

                        Who was Ralph Wibberly?  A family friend or neighbour, perhaps, someone who had been a father figure?  The first Ralph Wibberly I found was a blind wood cutter living in Derby. He had a son also called Ralph Wibberly. I did not think Ralph Wibberly would be a very common name, but I was wrong.

                        I then found a Ralph Wibberly living in Heanor, with a son also named Ralph Wibberly. A Ralph Wibberly married an Emma Salt from Heanor. In 1874, a 36 year old Ralph Wibberly (born in 1838) was on trial in Derby for inflicting grevious bodily harm on William Fretwell of Heanor. His occupation is “platelayer” (a person employed in laying and maintaining railway track.) The jury found him not guilty.

                        In 1851 a 23 year old Ralph Wibberly (born in 1828) was a prisoner in Derby Gaol. However, Ralph Wibberly, a 50 year old labourer born in 1801 and his son Ralph Wibberly, aged 13 and born in 1838, are living in Belper on the 1851 census. Perhaps the son was the same Ralph Wibberly who was found not guilty of GBH in 1874. This appears to be the one who married Emma Salt, as his wife on the 1871 census is called Emma, and his occupation is “Midland Company Railway labourer”.

                        Which was the Ralph Wibberly that Emma chose to name as her father on the marriage register? We may never know, but perhaps we can assume it was Ralph Wibberly born in 1801.  It is unlikely to be the blind wood cutter from Derby; more likely to be the local Ralph Wibberly.  Maybe his son Ralph, who we know was involved in a fight in 1874, was a friend of Emma’s brother Charles John, who was described by Joseph as a “wild one”, although Ralph was 11 years older than Charles John.

                        Emma Housley married James Slater on Christmas day in Heanor in 1873.  Their first child, a daughter, was called Amy. Emma’s mother was Amy Eley. James Slater was a colliery brakesman (employed to work the steam-engine, or other machinery used in raising the coal from the mine.)

                        It occurred to me to wonder if Emma Housley (George’s daughter) knew Elizabeth, Mary Anne and Catherine (Samuel’s daughters). They were cousins, lived in the vicinity, and they had in common with each other having been deserted by their fathers who were brothers. Emma was born two years after Catherine. Catherine was living with John Benniston, a framework knitter in Heanor, from 1851 to 1861. Emma was living with her grandfather John Ely, a framework knitter in Heanor. In 1861, George Purdy was also living in Heanor. He was listed on the census as a 13 year old coal miner! George Purdy and Catherine Housley married in 1866 in Eastwood, Nottinghamshire ~ just over the county border. Emma’s first child Amy was born in Heanor, but the next two children, Eliza and Lilly, were born in Eastwood, in 1878 and 1880. Catherine and George’s fifth child, my great grandmother Mary Ann Gilman Purdy, was born in Eastwood in 1880, the same year as Lilly Slater.

                        By 1881 Emma and James Slater were living in Woodlinkin, Codnor and Loscoe, close to Heanor and Eastwood, on the Derbyshire side of the border. On each census up to 1911 their address on the census is Woodlinkin. Emma and James had nine children: six girls and 3 boys, the last, Alfred Frederick, born in 1901.

                        Emma and James lived three doors up from the Thorn Tree pub in Woodlinkin, Codnor:

                        Woodlinkin

                         

                        Emma Slater died in 1935 at the age of 84.

                         

                        IN
                        LOVING MEMORY OF
                        EMMA SLATER
                        (OF WOODLINKIN)
                        WHO DIED
                        SEPT 12th 1935
                        AGED 84 YEARS
                        AT REST

                        Crosshill Cemetery, Codnor, Amber Valley Borough, Derbyshire, England:

                        Emma Slater

                         

                        Charles John Housley

                        1949-

                        #6269
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          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.

                          Viewing 20 results - 181 through 200 (of 915 total)