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  • #6489

    In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

    It was a pleasant 25 degrees as Zara stepped off the plane. The flat red land stretched as far as the eye could see, and although she prefered a more undulating terrain there was something awe inspiring about this vast landscape. It was quite a contrast from the past few hours spent inside mine tunnels.

    Bert, a weatherbeaten man of indeterminate advanced age, was there to meet her as arranged and led her to the car, a battered old four wheel drive.  Although clearly getting on in years, he was tall and spry and dressed in practical working clothes.

    “Welcome to Alice,” he said, taking her bag and putting in on the back seat.  “I expect you’ll be wanting to know a bit about the place.”

    “How long have you lived here?” Zara asked, as Bert settled into the creaky drivers seat and started the car.

    Bert gave her a funny look and replied “Longer than a ducks ass.”  Zara had never heard that expression before; she assumed it meant a long time but didn’t like to pursue the question.

    “All this land belongs to the Arrernte,” he said, pronouncing it Arrunda.  “The local aboriginals.  1862 when we got here. Well,” Bert turned to give Zara a lopsided smile, “Not me personally, I aint quite that old.”

    Zara chuckled politely as Bert continued, “It got kinda busy around these parts round 1887 with the gold.”

    “Oh, are there mines near here?”  Zara asked with some excitement.

    Bert gave her a sharp look. “Oh there’s mines alright. Abandoned now though, and dangerous. Dangerous places, old mines.  You’ll be more interested in the hiking trails than those old mines, some real nice hiking and rock gorges, and it’s a nice temperature this time of year.”

    Bert lapsed into silence for a few minutes, frowning.

    “If you’da been arriving back then, you’da been on a camel train, that’s how they did it back then. Camel trains.   They do camel tours for tourists nowadays.”

    “Do you get many tourists?”

    “Too dang many tourists if you ask me, Alice is full of them, and Ayers Rock’s crawling with ’em these days. We don’t get many out our way though.” Bert snorted, reminding Zara of Yasmin. “Our visitors like an off the beaten track kind of holiday, know what I mean?” Bert gave Zara another sideways lopsided smile.  “I reckon you’ll like it at The Flying Fish Inn.  Down to earth, know what I mean? Down to earth and off the wall.”  He laughed heartily at that and Zara wasn’t quite sure what to say, so she laughed too.

    “Sounds great.”

    “Family run, see, makes a difference.  No fancy airs and graces, no traffic ~ well, not much of anything really, just beautiful scenery and peace and quiet.  Aunt Idle thinks she’s in charge but me and old Mater do most of it, well Finly does most of it to be honest, and you dropped lucky coming now, the twins have just decorated the bedrooms. Real nice they look now, they fancied doing some dreamtime murials on the walls.  The twins are Idle’s neices, Clove and Corrie, turned out nice girls, despite everything.”

    “Despite ….?”

    “What? Oh, living in the outback. Youngsters usually leave and head for the cities.  Prune’s the youngest gal, she’s a real imp, that one, a real character.  And Devan calls by regular to see Mater, he works at the gas station.”

    “Are they all Idle’s neices and nephews? Where are their parents?”  Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked, Zara thought when she saw Bert’s face.

    “Long gone, mate, long since gone from round here.  We’ve taken good care of ’em.”  Bert turned off the road onto a dirt road.  “Only another five minutes now.  We’re outside the town a bit, but there aint much in town anyway. Population 79, our town. About right for a decent sized town if you ask me.”

    Bert rounded a bend in a eucalyptus grove and announced, “Here we are, then, the Flying Fish Inn.”  He parked the car and retrieved Zara’s bag from the back seat.  “Take a seat on the verandah and I’ll find Idle to show you to your room and get you a drink.  Oh, and don’t be put off by Idle’s appearance, she’s a sweetheart really.”

    Flying Fish Inn

     

    Aunt Idle was nowhere to be found though, having decided to go for a walk on impulse, quite forgetting the arrival of the first guest.    She saw Bert’s car approaching the hotel from her vantage point on a low hill, which reminded her she should be getting back.  It was a lovely evening and she didn’t rush.

    Aunt Idle walk

     

    Bert found Mater in the dining room gazing out of the window.  “Where the bloody hell is Idle? The guest’s outside on the verandah.”

    “She’s taken herself off for a walk, can you believe it?” sighed Mater.

    “Yep” Bert replied, “I can.  Which room’s she in? Can you show her to her room?”

    “Yes of course, Bert. Perhaps you’d see to getting a drink for her.”

    Mater dining room

    #6488

    In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster
      • Zara completed her tile journey in the tunnels. In RL, she and Pretty Girl the parrot, are headed to Alice Springs in Australia, for a visit at the Flying Fish Inn (FFI). She’ll be the first to arrive.
      • Yasmin, still volunteering at an orphanage in Suva in RL, has found a key with the imp, guided by the snake tattoo on a mysterious man named Fred, originating from Australia. She’s booked her flight via Air Fiji, and will be soon arriving to Australia for a few days vacation from her mission.
      • Youssef, still in the Gobi desert, has found the grumpy vendor who was the shaman Lama Yoneze and reconnected with his friends in RL. Through the game in the desert, he also connected in VR (virtual reality) and RV (remote viewing) with sands_of_time, and elderly lady playing the game for intel. He still has to confirm his expected arrival to the FFI.
      • Xavier has confirmed his flight option as well from Berlin, Germany. He’s planned a few days’ mix of remote working and vacation, but his girlfriend Brytta may still work her 2 shifts, and not necessarily keen to travel in the middle of nowhere in Australia.

      They are all enjoying a lot the trail of clues from the game, and expect more adventures to come, with new challenges for each.
      As they all make their way to the Flying Fish Inn, they eagerly anticipate what exciting experiences and challenges await them. Zara, Yasmin, Youssef, and Xavier all have unique experiences from their time playing the game and their real-life travels. With their journey to the Flying Fish Inn, they hope to connect with each other and continue the exciting adventures that have already captivated them. They are all looking forward to what is in store for them in the Australian Outback and the Flying Fish Inn.

      The challenge gets a level up. It requires for each of them to find or procure a unique object, linked to some of their personal quirks and in synch with the real-life experience and the game one. Provide suggestions for each of them of a very specific object or color or shape, that can be remote viewed in the FFI and that they may find in their RL.

      • Zara: A golden compass, symbolizing her love for adventure and direction. It can be found in a hidden room in the FFI or as a unique treasure on a nearby beach.
      • Yasmine: A silver key, symbolizing her discovery of the key in the game and her love for unlocking secrets. It can be found in a locked box in the FFI’s attic or in a locked drawer in her room.
      • Youssef: A red scarf, symbolizing his connection with the shaman in the game and his love for vibrant colors. It can be found in the FFI’s market or in a shop in Alice Springs that sells unique handmade items.
      • Xavier: A black notebook, symbolizing his love for organization and his need for clarity. It can be found in the FFI’s library or in a nearby stationary shop in Alice Springs.
      #6476

      In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

      Yasmin was having a hard time with the heavy rains and mosquitoes in the real-world. She couldn’t seem to make a lot of progress on finding the snorting imp. She was feeling discouraged and unsure of what to do next.

      Suddenly, an emoji of a snake appeared on her screen. It seemed to be slithering and wriggling, as if it was trying to grab her attention. Without hesitation, Yasmin clicked on the emoji.

      She was taken to a new area in the game, where the ground was covered in tall grass and the sky was dark and stormy. She could see the snorting imp in the distance, but it was surrounded by a group of dangerous-looking snakes.

      Clue unlocked It sounds like you’re having a hard time in the real world, but don’t let that discourage you in the game. The snorting imp is nearby and it seems like the snakes are guarding it. You’ll have to be brave and quick to catch it. Remember, the snorting imp represents your determination and bravery in real life.

      Rude!  thought Yasmin. Telling me I’m having a hard time!  And I’m supposed to be the brains of the group! Suddenly the screen went blank. “Oh blimmin dodgy internet!” she moaned.

      :fleuron2:

      “Road’s closed with the flooding,” said a man from the kitchen door. Yasmin didn’t know him; he had a tinge of an accent and took up a lot of space in the doorway. “They reckon it should be clear by tomorrow though.”

      Fred!” Sister Aliti looked up from chopping yam and beamed. She pointed her knife at Yasmin who was washing the breakfast dishes. “Have you met Yasmin? One of our new volunteers. Such a good girl.” The knife circled towards the door. “Yasmin this is FredFred drives the van for us when we are too busy to do it ourselves. So very kind.” She smiled fondly at the man.

      Fred nodded and, taking a step into the kitchen, he stuck a hand towards Yasmin. She quickly wiped her damp hands on her skirt before taking it. Fred’s hand was brown and weathered like his face and he gripped her fingers firmly.

      “Nice to meet you Yasmin. So where are you from?”

      “Oh, um, I’ve been living in London most recently but originally from Manchester.” Yasmin noticed he had a snake tattoo curling up his inner  bicep, over his shoulder and disappearing under his black singlet. “Is your accent Australian?”

      A flicker of a frown crossed Fred’s face and Yasmin felt anxious. “Sorry,” she mumbled, although she wasn’t sure what for. “It’s just I’m visiting soon …”

      “Yeah, originally. But I’ve not been back home for while.” His eyes drifted to the kitchen window and stayed there. For a moment, they all watched the rain pelt against the glass.

      Sister Aliti broke the silence. “Fred’s a writer,” she said sounding like a proud mother.

      “Oh, that’s so cool! What do you write?” Yasmin immediately worried she’d been too nosy again. “I’ve always wanted to write!” she added brightly which wasn’t true, she’d never given it much thought. Realising this, and to her horror, she snort laughed.

      Fred dragged his eyes back from the window and looked at her with amusement. “Yeah? Well you should go for it!” He turned to Sister Aliti. “Internet’s down again too with this weather,” He dug into the pocket of his shorts and dangled some keys in the air. “I’ll leave the van keys with you but I’ll be back tomorrow, if the rain’s stopped.” The keys clanked onto the bench.

      “He’s such a chatterbox,” murmured Sister Aliti after Fred had gone and Yasmin laughed.

      “Shall I put these in the office?” Yasmin gestured to the set of keys then gasped as she saw that on the keychain was a devilish looking imp grinning up at her.

      #6454

      In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        YASMIN’S QUIRK: Entry level quirk – snort laughing when socially anxious

        Setting

        The initial setting for this quest is a comedic theater in the heart of a bustling city. You will start off by exploring the different performances and shows, trying to find the source of the snort laughter that seems to be haunting your thoughts. As you delve deeper into the theater, you will discover that the snort laughter is coming from a mischievous imp who has taken residence within the theater.

        Directions to Investigate

        Possible directions to investigate include talking to the theater staff and performers to gather information, searching backstage for clues, and perhaps even sneaking into the imp’s hiding spot to catch a glimpse of it in action.

        Characters

        Possible characters to engage include the theater manager, who may have information about the imp’s history and habits, and a group of comedic performers who may have some insight into the imp’s behavior.

        Task

        Your task is to find a key or tile that represents the imp, and take a picture of it in real life as proof of completion of the quest. Good luck on your journey to uncover the source of the snort laughter!

         

        THE SECRET ROOM AND THE UNDERGROUND MINES

        1st thread’s answer:

        As the family struggles to rebuild the inn and their lives in the wake of the Great Fires, they begin to uncover clues that lead them to believe that the mines hold the key to unlocking a great mystery. They soon discover that the mines were not just a source of gold and other precious minerals, but also a portal to another dimension. The family realizes that Mater had always known about this portal, and had kept it a secret for fear of the dangers it posed.

        The family starts to investigate the mines more closely and they come across a hidden room off Room 8. Inside the room, they find a strange device that looks like a portal, and a set of mysterious symbols etched into the walls. The family realizes that this is the secret room that Mater had always spoken about in hushed tones.

        The family enlists the help of four gamers, Xavier, Zara, Yasmin, and Youssef, to help them decipher the symbols and unlock the portal. Together, they begin to unravel the mystery of the mines, and the portal leads them on an epic journey through a strange and fantastical alternate dimension.

        As they journey deeper into the mines, the family discovers that the portal was created by an ancient civilization, long thought to be lost to history. The civilization had been working on a powerful energy source that could have changed the fate of humanity, but the project was abandoned due to the dangers it posed. The family soon discovers that the civilization had been destroyed by a powerful and malevolent force, and that the portal was the only way to stop it from destroying the world.

        The family and the gamers must navigate treacherous landscapes, battle fierce monsters, and overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles in order to stop the malevolent force and save the world. Along the way, they discover secrets about their own past and the true origins of the mines.

        As they journey deeper into the mines and the alternate dimension, they discover that the secret room leads to a network of underground tunnels, and that the tunnels lead to a secret underground city that was built by the ancient civilization. The city holds many secrets and clues to the fate of the ancient civilization, and the family and the gamers must explore the city and uncover the truth before it’s too late.

        As the story unfolds, the family and the gamers must come to grips with the truth about the mines, and the role that the family has played in the fate of the world for generations. They must also confront the demons of their own past, and learn to trust and rely on each other if they hope to save the world and bring the family back together.

        second thread’s answer:

        As the 4 gamers, Xavier, Zara, Yasmin and Youssef, arrived at the Flying Fish Inn in the Australian outback, they were greeted by the matriarch of the family, Mater. She was a no-nonsense woman who ran the inn with an iron fist, but her tough exterior hid a deep love for her family and the land.

        The inn was run by Mater and her daughter Dido, who the family affectionately called Aunt Idle. She was a free spirit who loved to explore the land and had a deep connection to the local indigenous culture.

        The family was made up of Devan, the eldest son who lived in town and helped with the inn when he could, and the twin sisters Clove and Coriander, who everyone called Corrie. The youngest was Prune, a precocious child who was always getting into mischief.

        The family had a handyman named Bert, who had been with them for decades and knew all the secrets of the land. Tiku, an old and wise Aborigine woman was also a regular visitor and a valuable source of information and guidance. Finly, the dutiful helper, assisted the family in their daily tasks.

        As the 4 gamers settled in, they learned that the area was rich in history and mystery. The old mines that lay abandoned nearby were a source of legends and stories passed down through the generations. Some even whispered of supernatural occurrences linked to the mines.

        Mater and Dido, however, were not on good terms, and the family had its own issues and secrets, but the 4 gamers were determined to unravel the mystery of the mines and find the secret room that was said to be hidden somewhere in the inn.

        As they delved deeper into the history of the area, they discovered that the mines had a connection to the missing brother, Jasper, and Fred, the father of the family and a sci-fi novelist who had been influenced by the supernatural occurrences of the mines.

        The 4 gamers found themselves on a journey of discovery, not only in the game but in the real world as well, as they uncovered the secrets of the mines and the Flying Fish Inn, and the complicated relationships of the family that ran it.

         

        THE SNOOT’S WISE WORDS ON SOCIAL ANXIETY

        Deear Francie Mossie Pooh,

        The Snoot, a curious creature of the ages, understands the swirling winds of social anxiety, the tempestuous waves it creates in one’s daily life.
        But The Snoot also believes that like a Phoenix, one must rise from the ashes, and embrace the journey of self-discovery and growth.
        It’s important to let yourself be, to accept the feelings as they come and go, like the ebb and flow of the ocean. But also, like a gardener, tend to the inner self with care and compassion, for the roots to grow deep and strong.

        The Snoot suggests seeking guidance from the wise ones, the ones who can hold the mirror and show you the way, like the North Star guiding the sailors.
        And remember, the journey is never-ending, like the spiral of the galaxy, and it’s okay to take small steps, to stumble and fall, for that’s how we learn to fly.

        The Snoot is here for you, my dear Francie Mossie Pooh, a beacon in the dark, a friend on the journey, to hold your hand and sing you a lullaby.

        Fluidly and fantastically yours,

        The Snoot.

        #6427

        In reply to: Prompts of Madjourneys

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Xavier’s quirk offering is being a cheeky monkey

          Quirk accepted.

          The initial setting for Xavier’s quest is a lush jungle filled with mischievous monkeys. Your mission is to find the legendary Golden Banana, which is said to grant eternal youth and vitality to whoever finds it. However, be warned as the jungle is also home to a tribe of fierce apes who will stop at nothing to protect the precious fruit.

          Possible directions to investigate include

          • searching for clues in the monkey’s sacred temples hidden deep within the jungle,
          • or seeking out the help of a wise old owl who is said to know the location of the Golden Banana.

          As for possible characters to engage, you may come across

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

          In regards to the FFI visit in real-life, you may discover a mysterious map hidden within the Inn that leads to the location of the Golden Banana, or overhear a conversation between the Inn’s patrons discussing rumors of a monkey who recently visited and may hold valuable information about the quest.

          Emoji clue: Xavier: 🐒🍌

          #6426

          In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

          The artificial lights of Berlin were starting to switch off in the horizon, leaving the night plunged in darkness minutes before the sunrise. It was a moment of peace that Xavier enjoyed, although it reminded him of how sleepless his night had been.

          The game had taken a side step, as he’d been pouring all his attention into his daytime job, and his personal project with Artificial Life AL. It was a long way from the little boy at school with dyslexia who was using cheeky jokes as a way to get by the snides. Since then, he’d known some of the unusual super-powers this condition gave him as well. Chiefly: abstract and out-of-the-box thinking, puzzle-solving genius, and an almost other-worldly ability at keeping track of the plot. All these skills were in fact of tremendous help at his work, which was blending traditional areas of technology along with massive amounts of loosely connected data.

          He yawned and went to brush his teeth. His usual meditation routine had also been disrupted by the activity of late, but he just couldn’t go to bed without a little time to cool off and calm down the agitation of his thoughts.

          Sitting on the meditation mat, his thoughts strayed off towards the preparation for the trip. Going to Australia would have seemed exciting a few years back, but the idea of packing a suitcase, and going through the long flight and the logistics involved got him more anxious than excited, despite the contagious enthusiasm of his friends. Since he’d settled in Berlin, after never settling for too long in one place (his job afforded him to work wherever whenever), he’d kind of stopped looking for the next adventure. He hadn’t even looked at flight options yet, and hoped that the building momentum would spur him into this adventure. For now, he needed the rest.

          The quirk quest assigned to his persona in the game was fun. Monkeys and Golden banana to look for, wise owls and sly foxes, the whimsical goofy nature of the quest seemed good for the place he was in.
          AL had been suggesting the players to insert the game elements into their realities, and sometimes its comments or instructions seemed to slip between layers of reality — this was an intriguing mystery to Xavier.
          He’d instructed AL to discreetly assist Youssef with his trouble — the Thi Gang seemed to be an ethical hacker developer company front for more serious business. Chatter on the net had tied it to a network of shell companies involved in some strange activities. A name had popped up, linked to mysterious recluse billionaire Botty Banworth, the owner of Youssef’s boss rival blog named Knoweth.

          He slipped into the bed, careful not to wake up Brytta, who was sleeping tightly. It was her day off, otherwise she would have been gone already to her shift. It would be good to connect in the morning, and enjoy some break from mind stuff. They had planned a visit to Kantonstrasse (the local Chinatown) for Chinese New Year, and he couldn’t wait for it.

          #6419

          In reply to: Orbs of Madjourneys

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

          ~~~

           

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

          ~~~

           

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

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

           

          ghost of Isaac Stokes

           

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           

          Ghost of Isaac Stokes

          #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.
            #6363
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              try another short story, with a bit of drama with the following words:

              road form charlton smooth everyone cottage hanging rush offer agree subject district included appear sha returning grattidge nottingham 848 tetbury chicken

              It was a cold and gloomy day in the small village of Tetbury, nestled in the picturesque Cotswolds district. A young woman named Sha was returning home to her cottage after a long and tiring journey. She had been away visiting her family in Nottingham and was looking forward to relaxing in her cozy home.

              As she walked down the dirt road that led to her cottage, she couldn’t help but notice that something was off. Her neighbor, Mr. Charlton, was outside hanging laundry and he didn’t acknowledge her as she walked by. Sha thought it was strange, as he was usually a friendly and sociable person.

              When Sha arrived at her cottage, she was shocked to find that it had been broken into. The front door was ajar and the inside of her home had been ransacked. Sha immediately panicked and called the police, who arrived on the scene shortly thereafter.

              The police officers, including Inspector Grattidge, took Sha’s statement and began to investigate the crime. They discovered that a group of burglars had been operating in the area, targeting homes and businesses in the district. The burglars had been known for their smooth operations and their ability to strike quickly, which led to their nickname “The Smooth Operators”.

              As Sha waited for the police to finish their investigation, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not right. She had always thought of Tetbury as a safe and friendly place, and she couldn’t believe that something like this could happen in her community.

              As the investigation went on, the police found out that the Smooth operators have been targeting houses with no security cameras, but Sha’s cottage was an exception, the police were able to find out that the group offered to pay a considerable sum of money to the people who reported the locations of the houses that had no cameras, and it was Mr. Charlton who was the informant and he even rushed to Sha’s cottage as soon as he knew the police was investigating the case, He was arrested for the crime and Sha was heartbroken to find out that her once friendly neighbor had betrayed her.

              Feeling violated and betrayed, Sha decided that she could no longer stay in the village and she put her cottage up for sale. She packed up her belongings and moved away, leaving behind the memories of her peaceful home and the community she had once thought of as her own. The end.

              #6348
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Wong Sang

                 

                Wong Sang was born in China in 1884. In October 1916 he married Alice Stokes in Oxford.

                Alice was the granddaughter of William Stokes of Churchill, Oxfordshire and William was the brother of Thomas Stokes the wheelwright (who was my 3X great grandfather). In other words Alice was my second cousin, three times removed, on my fathers paternal side.

                Wong Sang was an interpreter, according to the baptism registers of his children and the Dreadnought Seamen’s Hospital admission registers in 1930.  The hospital register also notes that he was employed by the Blue Funnel Line, and that his address was 11, Limehouse Causeway, E 14. (London)

                “The Blue Funnel Line offered regular First-Class Passenger and Cargo Services From the UK to South Africa, Malaya, China, Japan, Australia, Java, and America.  Blue Funnel Line was Owned and Operated by Alfred Holt & Co., Liverpool.
                The Blue Funnel Line, so-called because its ships have a blue funnel with a black top, is more appropriately known as the Ocean Steamship Company.”

                 

                Wong Sang and Alice’s daughter, Frances Eileen Sang, was born on the 14th July, 1916 and baptised in 1920 at St Stephen in Poplar, Tower Hamlets, London.  The birth date is noted in the 1920 baptism register and would predate their marriage by a few months, although on the death register in 1921 her age at death is four years old and her year of birth is recorded as 1917.

                Charles Ronald Sang was baptised on the same day in May 1920, but his birth is recorded as April of that year.  The family were living on Morant Street, Poplar.

                James William Sang’s birth is recorded on the 1939 census and on the death register in 2000 as being the 8th March 1913.  This definitely would predate the 1916 marriage in Oxford.

                William Norman Sang was born on the 17th October 1922 in Poplar.

                Alice and the three sons were living at 11, Limehouse Causeway on the 1939 census, the same address that Wong Sang was living at when he was admitted to Dreadnought Seamen’s Hospital on the 15th January 1930. Wong Sang died in the hospital on the 8th March of that year at the age of 46.

                Alice married John Patterson in 1933 in Stepney. John was living with Alice and her three sons on Limehouse Causeway on the 1939 census and his occupation was chef.

                Via Old London Photographs:

                “Limehouse Causeway is a street in east London that was the home to the original Chinatown of London. A combination of bomb damage during the Second World War and later redevelopment means that almost nothing is left of the original buildings of the street.”

                Limehouse Causeway in 1925:

                Limehouse Causeway

                 

                From The Story of Limehouse’s Lost Chinatown, poplarlondon website:

                “Limehouse was London’s first Chinatown, home to a tightly-knit community who were demonised in popular culture and eventually erased from the cityscape.

                As recounted in the BBC’s ‘Our Greatest Generation’ series, Connie was born to a Chinese father and an English mother in early 1920s Limehouse, where she used to play in the street with other British and British-Chinese children before running inside for teatime at one of their houses. 

                Limehouse was London’s first Chinatown between the 1880s and the 1960s, before the current Chinatown off Shaftesbury Avenue was established in the 1970s by an influx of immigrants from Hong Kong. 

                Connie’s memories of London’s first Chinatown as an “urban village” paint a very different picture to the seedy area portrayed in early twentieth century novels. 

                The pyramid in St Anne’s church marked the entrance to the opium den of Dr Fu Manchu, a criminal mastermind who threatened Western society by plotting world domination in a series of novels by Sax Rohmer. 

                Thomas Burke’s Limehouse Nights cemented stereotypes about prostitution, gambling and violence within the Chinese community, and whipped up anxiety about sexual relationships between Chinese men and white women. 

                Though neither novelist was familiar with the Chinese community, their depictions made Limehouse one of the most notorious areas of London. 

                Travel agent Thomas Cook even organised tours of the area for daring visitors, despite the rector of Limehouse warning that “those who look for the Limehouse of Mr Thomas Burke simply will not find it.”

                All that remains is a handful of Chinese street names, such as Ming Street, Pekin Street, and Canton Street — but what was Limehouse’s chinatown really like, and why did it get swept away?

                Chinese migration to Limehouse 

                Chinese sailors discharged from East India Company ships settled in the docklands from as early as the 1780s.

                By the late nineteenth century, men from Shanghai had settled around Pennyfields Lane, while a Cantonese community lived on Limehouse Causeway. 

                Chinese sailors were often paid less and discriminated against by dock hirers, and so began to diversify their incomes by setting up hand laundry services and restaurants. 

                Old photographs show shopfronts emblazoned with Chinese characters with horse-drawn carts idling outside or Chinese men in suits and hats standing proudly in the doorways. 

                In oral histories collected by Yat Ming Loo, Connie’s husband Leslie doesn’t recall seeing any Chinese women as a child, since male Chinese sailors settled in London alone and married working-class English women. 

                In the 1920s, newspapers fear-mongered about interracial marriages, crime and gambling, and described chinatown as an East End “colony.” 

                Ironically, Chinese opium-smoking was also demonised in the press, despite Britain waging war against China in the mid-nineteenth century for suppressing the opium trade to alleviate addiction amongst its people. 

                The number of Chinese people who settled in Limehouse was also greatly exaggerated, and in reality only totalled around 300. 

                The real Chinatown 

                Although the press sought to characterise Limehouse as a monolithic Chinese community in the East End, Connie remembers seeing people of all nationalities in the shops and community spaces in Limehouse.

                She doesn’t remember feeling discriminated against by other locals, though Connie does recall having her face measured and IQ tested by a member of the British Eugenics Society who was conducting research in the area. 

                Some of Connie’s happiest childhood memories were from her time at Chung-Hua Club, where she learned about Chinese culture and language.

                Why did Chinatown disappear? 

                The caricature of Limehouse’s Chinatown as a den of vice hastened its erasure. 

                Police raids and deportations fuelled by the alarmist media coverage threatened the Chinese population of Limehouse, and slum clearance schemes to redevelop low-income areas dispersed Chinese residents in the 1930s. 

                The Defence of the Realm Act imposed at the beginning of the First World War criminalised opium use, gave the authorities increased powers to deport Chinese people and restricted their ability to work on British ships.

                Dwindling maritime trade during World War II further stripped Chinese sailors of opportunities for employment, and any remnants of Chinatown were destroyed during the Blitz or erased by postwar development schemes.”

                 

                Wong Sang 1884-1930

                The year 1918 was a troublesome one for Wong Sang, an interpreter and shipping agent for Blue Funnel Line.  The Sang family were living at 156, Chrisp Street.

                Chrisp Street, Poplar, in 1913 via Old London Photographs:

                Chrisp Street

                 

                In February Wong Sang was discharged from a false accusation after defending his home from potential robbers.

                East End News and London Shipping Chronicle – Friday 15 February 1918:

                1918 Wong Sang

                 

                In August of that year he was involved in an incident that left him unconscious.

                Faringdon Advertiser and Vale of the White Horse Gazette – Saturday 31 August 1918:

                1918 Wong Sang 2

                 

                Wong Sang is mentioned in an 1922 article about “Oriental London”.

                London and China Express – Thursday 09 February 1922:

                1922 Wong Sang

                A photograph of the Chee Kong Tong Chinese Freemason Society mentioned in the above article, via Old London Photographs:

                Chee Kong Tong

                 

                Wong Sang was recommended by the London Metropolitan Police in 1928 to assist in a case in Wellingborough, Northampton.

                Difficulty of Getting an Interpreter: Northampton Mercury – Friday 16 March 1928:

                1928 Wong Sang

                1928 Wong Sang 2

                The difficulty was that “this man speaks the Cantonese language only…the Northeners and the Southerners in China have differing languages and the interpreter seemed to speak one that was in between these two.”

                 

                In 1917, Alice Wong Sang was a witness at her sister Harriet Stokes marriage to James William Watts in Southwark, London.  Their father James Stokes occupation on the marriage register is foreman surveyor, but on the census he was a council roadman or labourer. (I initially rejected this as the correct marriage for Harriet because of the discrepancy with the occupations. Alice Wong Sang as a witness confirmed that it was indeed the correct one.)

                1917 Alice Wong Sang

                 

                 

                James William Sang 1913-2000 was a clock fitter and watch assembler (on the 1939 census). He married Ivy Laura Fenton in 1963 in Sidcup, Kent. James died in Southwark in 2000.

                Charles Ronald Sang 1920-1974  was a draughtsman (1939 census). He married Eileen Burgess in 1947 in Marylebone.  Charles and Eileen had two sons:  Keith born in 1951 and Roger born in 1952.  He died in 1974 in Hertfordshire.

                William Norman Sang 1922-2000 was a clerk and telephone operator (1939 census).  William enlisted in the Royal Artillery in 1942. He married Lily Mullins in 1949 in Bethnal Green, and they had three daughters: Marion born in 1950, Christine in 1953, and Frances in 1959.  He died in Redbridge in 2000.

                 

                I then found another two births registered in Poplar by Alice Sang, both daughters.  Doris Winifred Sang was born in 1925, and Patricia Margaret Sang was born in 1933 ~ three years after Wong Sang’s death.  Neither of the these daughters were on the 1939 census with Alice, John Patterson and the three sons.  Margaret had presumably been evacuated because of the war to a family in Taunton, Somerset. Doris would have been fourteen and I have been unable to find her in 1939 (possibly because she died in 2017 and has not had the redaction removed  yet on the 1939 census as only deceased people are viewable).

                Doris Winifred Sang 1925-2017 was a nursing sister. She didn’t marry, and spent a year in USA between 1954 and 1955. She stayed in London, and died at the age of ninety two in 2017.

                Patricia Margaret Sang 1933-1998 was also a nurse. She married Patrick L Nicely in Stepney in 1957.  Patricia and Patrick had five children in London: Sharon born 1959, Donald in 1960, Malcolm was born and died in 1966, Alison was born in 1969 and David in 1971.

                 

                I was unable to find a birth registered for Alice’s first son, James William Sang (as he appeared on the 1939 census).  I found Alice Stokes on the 1911 census as a 17 year old live in servant at a tobacconist on Pekin Street, Limehouse, living with Mr Sui Fong from Hong Kong and his wife Sarah Sui Fong from Berlin.  I looked for a birth registered for James William Fong instead of Sang, and found it ~ mothers maiden name Stokes, and his date of birth matched the 1939 census: 8th March, 1913.

                On the 1921 census, Wong Sang is not listed as living with them but it is mentioned that Mr Wong Sang was the person returning the census.  Also living with Alice and her sons James and Charles in 1921 are two visitors:  (Florence) May Stokes, 17 years old, born in Woodstock, and Charles Stokes, aged 14, also born in Woodstock. May and Charles were Alice’s sister and brother.

                 

                I found Sharon Nicely on social media and she kindly shared photos of Wong Sang and Alice Stokes:

                Wong Sang

                 

                Alice Stokes

                #6342
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Brownings of Tetbury

                  Tetbury 1839

                   

                  Isaac Browning (1784-1848) married Mary Lock (1787-1870) in Tetbury in 1806. Both of them were born in Tetbury, Gloucestershire. Isaac was a stone mason. Between 1807 and 1832 they baptised fourteen children in Tetbury, and on 8 Nov 1829 Isaac and Mary baptised five daughters all on the same day.

                  I considered that they may have been quintuplets, with only the last born surviving, which would have answered my question about the name of the house La Quinta in Broadway, the home of Eliza Browning and Thomas Stokes son Fred. However, the other four daughters were found in various records and they were not all born the same year. (So I still don’t know why the house in Broadway had such an unusual name).

                  Their son George was born and baptised in 1827, but Louisa born 1821, Susan born 1822, Hesther born 1823 and Mary born 1826, were not baptised until 1829 along with Charlotte born in 1828. (These birth dates are guesswork based on the age on later censuses.) Perhaps George was baptised promptly because he was sickly and not expected to survive. Isaac and Mary had a son George born in 1814 who died in 1823. Presumably the five girls were healthy and could wait to be done as a job lot on the same day later.

                  Eliza Browning (1814-1886), my great great great grandmother, had a baby six years before she married Thomas Stokes. Her name was Ellen Harding Browning, which suggests that her fathers name was Harding. On the 1841 census seven year old Ellen was living with her grandfather Isaac Browning in Tetbury. Ellen Harding Browning married William Dee in Tetbury in 1857, and they moved to Western Australia.

                  Ellen Harding Browning Dee: (photo found on ancestry website)

                  Ellen Harding Browning

                  OBITUARY. MRS. ELLEN DEE.
                  A very old and respected resident of Dongarra, in the person of Mrs. Ellen Dee, passed peacefully away on Sept. 27, at the advanced age of 74 years.

                  The deceased had been ailing for some time, but was about and actively employed until Wednesday, Sept. 20, whenn she was heard groaning by some neighbours, who immediately entered her place and found her lying beside the fireplace. Tho deceased had been to bed over night, and had evidently been in the act of lighting thc fire, when she had a seizure. For some hours she was conscious, but had lost the power of speech, and later on became unconscious, in which state she remained until her death.

                  The deceased was born in Gloucestershire, England, in 1833, was married to William Dee in Tetbury Church 23 years later. Within a month she left England with her husband for Western Australian in the ship City oí Bristol. She resided in Fremantle for six months, then in Greenough for a short time, and afterwards (for 42 years) in Dongarra. She was, therefore, a colonist of about 51 years. She had a family of four girls and three boys, and five of her children survive her, also 35 grandchildren, and eight great grandchildren. She was very highly respected, and her sudden collapse came as a great shock to many.

                   

                  Eliza married Thomas Stokes (1816-1885) in September 1840 in Hempstead, Gloucestershire. On the 1841 census, Eliza and her mother Mary Browning (nee Lock) were staying with Thomas Lock and family in Cirencester. Strangely, Thomas Stokes has not been found thus far on the 1841 census, and Thomas and Eliza’s first child William James Stokes birth was registered in Witham, in Essex, on the 6th of September 1841.

                  I don’t know why William James was born in Witham, or where Thomas was at the time of the census in 1841. One possibility is that as Thomas Stokes did a considerable amount of work with circus waggons, circus shooting galleries and so on as a journeyman carpenter initially and then later wheelwright, perhaps he was working with a traveling circus at the time.

                  But back to the Brownings ~ more on William James Stokes to follow.

                  One of Isaac and Mary’s fourteen children died in infancy:  Ann was baptised and died in 1811. Two of their children died at nine years old: the first George, and Mary who died in 1835.  Matilda was 21 years old when she died in 1844.

                  Jane Browning (1808-)  married Thomas Buckingham in 1830 in Tetbury. In August 1838 Thomas was charged with feloniously stealing a black gelding.

                  Susan Browning (1822-1879) married William Cleaver in November 1844 in Tetbury. Oddly thereafter they use the name Bowman on the census. On the 1851 census Mary Browning (Susan’s mother), widow, has grandson George Bowman born in 1844 living with her. The confusion with the Bowman and Cleaver names was clarified upon finding the criminal registers:

                  30 January 1834. Offender: William Cleaver alias Bowman, Richard Bunting alias Barnfield and Jeremiah Cox, labourers of Tetbury. Crime: Stealing part of a dead fence from a rick barton in Tetbury, the property of Robert Tanner, farmer.

                   

                  And again in 1836:

                  29 March 1836 Bowman, William alias Cleaver, of Tetbury, labourer age 18; 5’2.5” tall, brown hair, grey eyes, round visage with fresh complexion; several moles on left cheek, mole on right breast. Charged on the oath of Ann Washbourn & others that on the morning of the 31 March at Tetbury feloniously stolen a lead spout affixed to the dwelling of the said Ann Washbourn, her property. Found guilty 31 March 1836; Sentenced to 6 months.

                  On the 1851 census Susan Bowman was a servant living in at a large drapery shop in Cheltenham. She was listed as 29 years old, married and born in Tetbury, so although it was unusual for a married woman not to be living with her husband, (or her son for that matter, who was living with his grandmother Mary Browning), perhaps her husband William Bowman alias Cleaver was in trouble again. By 1861 they are both living together in Tetbury: William was a plasterer, and they had three year old Isaac and Thomas, one year old. In 1871 William was still a plasterer in Tetbury, living with wife Susan, and sons Isaac and Thomas. Interestingly, a William Cleaver is living next door but one!

                  Susan was 56 when she died in Tetbury in 1879.

                   

                  Three of the Browning daughters went to London.

                  Louisa Browning (1821-1873) married Robert Claxton, coachman, in 1848 in Bryanston Square, Westminster, London. Ester Browning was a witness.

                  Ester Browning (1823-1893)(or Hester) married Charles Hudson Sealey, cabinet maker, in Bethnal Green, London, in 1854. Charles was born in Tetbury. Charlotte Browning was a witness.

                  Charlotte Browning (1828-1867?) was admitted to St Marylebone workhouse in London for “parturition”, or childbirth, in 1860. She was 33 years old.  A birth was registered for a Charlotte Browning, no mothers maiden name listed, in 1860 in Marylebone. A death was registered in Camden, buried in Marylebone, for a Charlotte Browning in 1867 but no age was recorded.  As the age and parents were usually recorded for a childs death, I assume this was Charlotte the mother.

                  I found Charlotte on the 1851 census by chance while researching her mother Mary Lock’s siblings.  Hesther Lock married Lewin Chandler, and they were living in Stepney, London.  Charlotte is listed as a neice. Although Browning is mistranscribed as Broomey, the original page says Browning. Another mistranscription on this record is Hesthers birthplace which is transcribed as Yorkshire. The original image shows Gloucestershire.

                   

                  Isaac and Mary’s first son was John Browning (1807-1860). John married Hannah Coates in 1834. John’s brother Charles Browning (1819-1853) married Eliza Coates in 1842. Perhaps they were sisters. On the 1861 census Hannah Browning, John’s wife, was a visitor in the Harding household in a village called Coates near Tetbury. Thomas Harding born in 1801 was the head of the household. Perhaps he was the father of Ellen Harding Browning.

                  George Browning (1828-1870) married Louisa Gainey in Tetbury, and died in Tetbury at the age of 42.  Their son Richard Lock Browning, a 32 year old mason, was sentenced to one month hard labour for game tresspass in Tetbury in 1884.

                  Isaac Browning (1832-1857) was the youngest son of Isaac and Mary. He was just 25 years old when he died in Tetbury.

                  #6340
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    Wheelwrights of Broadway

                    Thomas Stokes 1816-1885

                    Frederick Stokes 1845-1917

                    Stokes Wheelwrights

                    Stokes Wheelwrights. Fred on left of wheel, Thomas his father on right.

                    Thomas Stokes

                    Thomas Stokes was born in Bicester, Oxfordshire in 1816. He married Eliza Browning (born in 1814 in Tetbury, Gloucestershire) in Gloucester in 1840 Q3. Their first son William was baptised in Chipping Hill, Witham, Essex, on 3 Oct 1841. This seems a little unusual, and I can’t find Thomas and Eliza on the 1841 census. However both the 1851 and 1861 census state that William was indeed born in Essex.

                    In 1851 Thomas and Eliza were living in Bledington, Gloucestershire, and Thomas was a journeyman carpenter.

                    Note that a journeyman does not mean someone who moved around a lot. A journeyman was a tradesman who had served his trade apprenticeship and mastered his craft, not bound to serve a master, but originally hired by the day. The name derives from the French for day – jour.

                    Also on the 1851 census: their daughter Susan, born in Churchill Oxfordshire in 1844; son Frederick born in Bledington Gloucestershire in 1846; daughter Louisa born in Foxcote Oxfordshire in 1849; and 2 month old daughter Harriet born in Bledington in 1851.

                    On the 1861 census Thomas and Eliza were living in Evesham, Worcestershire, and daughter Susan was no longer living at home, but William, Fred, Louisa and Harriet were, as well as daughter Emily born in Churchill Oxfordshire in 1856. Thomas was a wheelwright.

                    On the 1871 census Thomas and Eliza were still living in Evesham, and Thomas was a wheelwright employing three apprentices. Son Fred, also a wheelwright, and his wife Ann Rebecca live with them.

                    Mr Stokes, wheelwright, was found guilty of reprehensible conduct in concealing the fact that small-pox existed in his house, according to a mention in The Oxfordshire Weekly News on Wednesday 19 February 1873:

                    Stokes smallpox 1873

                     

                     

                    From Paul Weaver’s ancestry website:

                    “It was Thomas Stokes who built the first “Famous Vale of Evesham Light Gardening Dray for a Half-Legged Horse to Trot” (the quotation is from his account book), the forerunner of many that became so familiar a sight in the towns and villages from the 1860s onwards. He built many more for the use of the Vale gardeners.

                    Thomas also had long-standing business dealings with the people of the circus and fairgrounds, and had a contract to effect necessary repairs and renewals to their waggons whenever they visited the district. He built living waggons for many of the show people’s families as well as shooting galleries and other equipment peculiar to the trade of his wandering customers, and among the names figuring in his books are some still familiar today, such as Wilsons and Chipperfields.

                    He is also credited with inventing the wooden “Mushroom” which was used by housewives for many years to darn socks. He built and repaired all kinds of vehicles for the gentry as well as for the circus and fairground travellers.

                    Later he lived with his wife at Merstow Green, Evesham, in a house adjoining the Almonry.”

                     

                    An excerpt from the book Evesham Inns and Signs by T.J.S. Baylis:

                    Thomas Stokes dray

                    The Old Red Horse, Evesham:

                    Old Red Horse

                     

                    Thomas died in 1885 aged 68 of paralysis, bronchitis and debility.  His wife Eliza a year later in 1886.

                     

                    Frederick Stokes

                    In Worcester in 1870 Fred married Ann Rebecca Day, who was born in Evesham in 1845.

                    Ann Rebecca Day:

                    Rebecca Day

                     

                    In 1871 Fred was still living with his parents in Evesham, with his wife Ann Rebecca as well as their three month old daughter Annie Elizabeth. Fred and Ann (referred to as Rebecca) moved to La Quinta on Main Street, Broadway.

                     

                    Rebecca Stokes in the doorway of La Quinta on Main Street Broadway, with her grandchildren Ralph and Dolly Edwards:

                    La Quinta

                     

                    Fred was a wheelwright employing one man on the 1881 census. In 1891 they were still in Broadway, Fred’s occupation was wheelwright and coach painter, as well as his fifteen year old son Frederick.

                    In the Evesham Journal on Saturday 10 December 1892 it was reported that  “Two cases of scarlet fever, the children of Mr. Stokes, wheelwright, Broadway, were certified by Mr. C. W. Morris to be isolated.”

                     

                    Still in Broadway in 1901 and Fred’s son Albert was also a wheelwright.  By 1911 Fred and Rebecca had only one son living at home in Broadway, Reginald, who was a coach painter. Fred was still a wheelwright aged 65.

                    Fred’s signature on the 1911 census:

                    1911 La Quinta

                    Rebecca died in 1912 and Fred in 1917.

                    Fred Stokes:

                    Fred Stokes

                     

                    In the book Evesham to Bredon From Old Photographs By Fred Archer:

                    Stokes 1

                    Stokes 2

                    #6337
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Annie Elizabeth Stokes

                      1871-1961

                      “Grandma E”

                      Annie Stokes

                       

                      Annie, my great grandmother, was born 2 Jan 1871 in Merstow Green, Evesham, Worcestershire.  Her father Fred Stokes was a wheelwright.  On  the 1771 census in Merston Green Annie was 3 months old and there was quite a houseful: Annies parents Fred and Rebecca, Fred’s parents Thomas and Eliza and two of their daughters, three apprentices, a lodger and one of Thomas’s grandsons.

                      1771 census Merstow Green, Evesham:

                      1771 census

                       

                      Annie at school in the early 1870s in Broadway. Annie is in the front on the left and her brother Fred is in the centre of the first seated row:

                      Annie 1870s Broadway

                       

                      In 1881 Annie was a 10 year old visitor at the Angel Inn, Chipping Camden. A boarder there was 19 year old William Halford, a wheelwright apprentice.  John Such, a 62 year old widower, was the innkeeper. Her parents and two siblings were living at La Quinta, on Main Street in Broadway.

                      According to her obituary in 1962, “When the Maxton family visited Broadway to stay with Mr and Madame de Navarro at Court Farm, they offered Annie a family post with them which took her for several years to Paris and other parts of the continent.”

                      Mary Anderson was an American theatre actress. In 1890 she married Antonio Fernando de Navarro. She became known as Mary Anderson de Navarro. They settled at Court Farm in the Cotswolds, Broadway, Worcestershire, where she cultivated an interest in music and became a noted hostess with a distinguished circle of musical, literary and ecclesiastical guests. As in the years when Mary lived there, it was often filled with visiting artists and musicians, including Myra Hess and a young Jacqueline du Pré. (via Wikipedia)

                      Court Farm, Broadway:

                      Court Farm Broadway

                       

                       

                      Annie was an assistant to a tobacconist in West Bromwich in 1991, living as a boarder with William Calcutt and family.  He future husband Albert was living in neighbouring Tipton in 1891, working at a pawnbroker apprenticeship.

                      Annie married Albert Parker Edwards in 1898 in Evesham. On the 1901 census, she was in hospital in Redditch.

                      By 1911, Anne and Albert had five children and were living at the Cricketers Arms in Redditch.

                      cricketers arms

                       

                      Behind the bar in 1904 shortly after taking over at the Cricketers Arms. From a book on Redditch pubs:

                      cricketers

                       

                      Annie was referred to in later years as Grandma E, probably to differentiate between her and my fathers Grandma T, as both lived to a great age.

                      Annie with her grandson Reg on the left and her daughter in law Peggy on the right, in the early 1950s:

                      1950 Annie

                       

                      Annie at my christening in 1959:

                      1959 christening

                       

                      Annie died 30 Dec 1961, aged 90, at Ravenscourt nursing home, Redditch. Her obituary in the Droitwich Guardian in January 1962:

                      Annie obit

                      Note that this obituary contains an obvious error: Annie’s father was Frederick Stokes, and Thomas was his father.

                      #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?”

                      #6314

                      In reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg

                      After her visit to the witch of the woods to get some medicine for her Mum who still had bouts of fatigue from her last encounter with the flu, the little Maryechka went back home as instructed.

                      She found her home empty. Her parents were busy in the fields, as the time of harvest was near, and much remained to be done to prepare, and workers were limited.

                      She left the pouch of dried herbs in the cabinet, and wondered if she should study. The schools were closed for early holidays, and they didn’t really bother with giving them much homework. She could see the teachers’ minds were worried with other things.

                      Unlike other children of her age, she wasn’t interested in all the activities online, phone-stuff. The other gen-alpha kids didn’t even bother mocking her “IRL”, glued to their screens while she instead enjoyed looking at the clear blue sky. For all she knew they didn’t even realize they were living in the same world. Now, they were probably over-stressed looking at all the news on replay.
                      For Maryechka, the war felt far away, even if you could see some of its impacts, with people moving about the nearby town.

                      Looking as it was still early in the day, and she had plenty more time left before having to prepare for dinner, she thought it’d be nice to go and visit her grand-parent and their friends at the old people’s home. They always had nice stale biscuits to share, and they told the strangest stories all the time.

                      It was just a 15 min walk from the farm, so she’d be there and back in no time.

                      #6303
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        The Hollands of Barton under Needwood

                         

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                        William Richard Holland

                         

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

                        Holland House

                         

                        Excerpt from the book:

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

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

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

                        Further excerpts from the book:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                        Wales End Farm

                         

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

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

                        Unice Holland

                         

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

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

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

                        A list of Holland ancestors:

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

                        #6285
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          Harriet Compton

                          Harriet Comptom is not directly related to us, but her portrait is in our family collection.

                          Alfred Julius Eugene Compton painted this portrait of his daughter, Harriet Compton, when she was six.  Harriet Compton was Charles Tooby’s mothers mother, and Charles married my mothers aunt Dorothy Marshall. They lived on High Park Ave in Wollaston, and his parents lived on Park Road, Wollaston, opposite my grandparents, George and Nora Marshall. Harriet married Thomas Thornburgh, they had a daughter Florence who married Sydney Tooby. Florence and Sydney were Charles Tooby’s parents.

                          Charles and Dorothy Tooby didn’t have any children. Charles died before his wife, and this is how the picture ended up in my mothers possession.

                          I attempted to find a direct descendant of Harriet Compton, but have not been successful so far, although I did find a relative on a Stourbridge facebook group.  Bryan Thornburgh replied: “Francis George was my grandfather.He had two sons George & my father Thomas and two daughters Cissie & Edith.  I can remember visiting my fathers Uncle Charles and Aunt Dorothy in Wollaston.”

                          Francis George Thornburgh was Florence Tooby’s brother.

                          The watercolour portrait was framed by Hughes of Enville St, Stourbridge.

                          Alfred Julius Eugene Compton was born in 1826 Paris, France, and died on 6 February 1917 in Chelsea, London.
                          Harriet Compton his daughter was born in 1853 in Islington, London, and died in December 1926 in Stourbridge.

                          Without going too far down an unrelated rabbit hole, a member of the facebook group Family Treasures Reinstated  shared this:

                          “Will reported in numerous papers in Dec 1886.
                          Harriet’s father Alfred appears to be beneficiary but Harriet’s brother, Percy is specifically excluded . 
                          “The will (dated March 6, 1876) of the Hon. Mrs. Fanny Stanhope, late of No. 24, Carlyle-square, Chelsea, who died on August 9 last, was proved on the 1st ult. by Alfred Julius Eugene Compton, the value of the personal estate amounting to over £8000.
                          The testatrix, after giving & few legacies, leaves one moiety of the residue of her personal estate, upon trust, for John Auguste Alexandre Compton, for life, and then, subject to an annuity to his wife, for the children (except Percy) of Alfred Julius Eugene Compton, and the other moiety, upon trust, for the said Alfred Julius Eugene Compton, for life, and at his death for his children, except Percy.”
                          -Illustrated London News.

                          Harriet Compton:  Harriet Compton

                          #6271
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            The Housley Letters

                            FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS

                            from Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

                             

                            George apparently asked about old friends and acquaintances and the family did their best to answer although Joseph wrote in 1873: “There is very few of your old cronies that I know of knocking about.”

                            In Anne’s first letter she wrote about a conversation which Robert had with EMMA LYON before his death and added “It (his death) was a great trouble to Lyons.” In her second letter Anne wrote: “Emma Lyon is to be married September 5. I am going the Friday before if all is well. There is every prospect of her being comfortable. MRS. L. always asks after you.” In 1855 Emma wrote: “Emma Lyon now Mrs. Woolhouse has got a fine boy and a pretty fuss is made with him. They call him ALFRED LYON WOOLHOUSE.”

                            (Interesting to note that Elizabeth Housley, the eldest daughter of Samuel and Elizabeth, was living with a Lyon family in Derby in 1861, after she left Belper workhouse.  The Emma listed on the census in 1861 was 10 years old, and so can not be the Emma Lyon mentioned here, but it’s possible, indeed likely, that Peter Lyon the baker was related to the Lyon’s who were friends of the Housley’s.  The mention of a sea captain in the Lyon family begs the question did Elizabeth Housley meet her husband, George William Stafford, a seaman, through some Lyon connections, but to date this remains a mystery.)

                            Elizabeth Housley living with Peter Lyon and family in Derby St Peters in 1861:

                            Lyon 1861 census

                             

                            A Henrietta Lyon was married in 1860. Her father was Matthew, a Navy Captain. The 1857 Derby Directory listed a Richard Woolhouse, plumber, glazier, and gas fitter on St. Peter’s Street. Robert lived in St. Peter’s parish at the time of his death. An Alfred Lyon, son of Alfred and Jemima Lyon 93 Friargate, Derby was baptised on December 4, 1877. An Allen Hewley Lyon, born February 1, 1879 was baptised June 17 1879.

                             

                            Anne wrote in August 1854: “KERRY was married three weeks since to ELIZABETH EATON. He has left Smith some time.” Perhaps this was the same person referred to by Joseph: “BILL KERRY, the blacksmith for DANIEL SMITH, is working for John Fletcher lace manufacturer.” According to the 1841 census, Elizabeth age 12, was the oldest daughter of Thomas and Rebecca Eaton. She would certainly have been of marriagable age in 1854. A William Kerry, age 14, was listed as a blacksmith’s apprentice in the 1851 census; but another William Kerry who was 29 in 1851 was already working for Daniel Smith as a blacksmith. REBECCA EATON was listed in the 1851 census as a widow serving as a nurse in the John Housley household. The 1881 census lists the family of William Kerry, blacksmith, as Jane, 19; William 13; Anne, 7; and Joseph, 4. Elizabeth is not mentioned but Bill is not listed as a widower.

                            Anne also wrote in 1854 that she had not seen or heard anything of DICK HANSON for two years. Joseph wrote that he did not know Old BETTY HANSON’S son. A Richard Hanson, age 24 in 1851, lived with a family named Moore. His occupation was listed as “journeyman knitter.” An Elizabeth Hanson listed as 24 in 1851 could hardly be “Old Betty.” Emma wrote in June 1856 that JOE OLDKNOW age 27 had married Mrs. Gribble’s servant age 17.

                            Anne wrote that “JOHN SPENCER had not been since father died.” The only John Spencer in Smalley in 1841 was four years old. He would have been 11 at the time of William Housley’s death. Certainly, the two could have been friends, but perhaps young John was named for his grandfather who was a crony of William’s living in a locality not included in the Smalley census.

                            TAILOR ALLEN had lost his wife and was still living in the old house in 1872. JACK WHITE had died very suddenly, and DR. BODEN had died also. Dr. Boden’s first name was Robert. He was 53 in 1851, and was probably the Robert, son of Richard and Jane, who was christened in Morely in 1797. By 1861, he had married Catherine, a native of Smalley, who was at least 14 years his junior–18 according to the 1871 census!

                            Among the family’s dearest friends were JOSEPH AND ELIZABETH DAVY, who were married some time after 1841. Mrs. Davy was born in 1812 and her husband in 1805. In 1841, the Kidsley Park farm household included DANIEL SMITH 72, Elizabeth 29 and 5 year old Hannah Smith. In 1851, Mr. Davy’s brother William and 10 year old Emma Davy were visiting from London. Joseph reported the death of both Davy brothers in 1872; Joseph apparently died first.

                            Mrs. Davy’s father, was a well known Quaker. In 1856, Emma wrote: “Mr. Smith is very hearty and looks much the same.” He died in December 1863 at the age of 94. George Fox, the founder of the Quakers visited Kidsley Park in 1650 and 1654.

                            Mr. Davy died in 1863, but in 1854 Anne wrote how ill he had been for two years. “For two last winters we never thought he would live. He is now able to go out a little on the pony.” In March 1856, his wife wrote, “My husband is in poor health and fell.” Later in 1856, Emma wrote, “Mr. Davy is living which is a great wonder. Mrs. Davy is very delicate but as good a friend as ever.”

                            In The Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal, 15 May 1863:

                            Davy Death

                             

                            Whenever the girls sent greetings from Mrs. Davy they used her Quaker speech pattern of “thee and thy.”  Mrs. Davy wrote to George on March 21 1856 sending some gifts from his sisters and a portrait of their mother–“Emma is away yet and A is so much worse.” Mrs. Davy concluded: “With best wishes for thy health and prosperity in this world and the next I am thy sincere friend.”

                            Mrs. Davy later remarried. Her new husband was W.T. BARBER. The 1861 census lists William Barber, 35, Bachelor of Arts, Cambridge, living with his 82 year old widowed mother on an 135 acre farm with three servants. One of these may have been the Ann who, according to Joseph, married Jack Oldknow. By 1871 the farm, now occupied by William, 47 and Elizabeth, 57, had grown to 189 acres. Meanwhile, Kidsley Park Farm became the home of the Housleys’ cousin Selina Carrington and her husband Walker Martin. Both Barbers were still living in 1881.

                            Mrs. Davy was described in Kerry’s History of Smalley as “an accomplished and exemplary lady.” A piece of her poetry “Farewell to Kidsley Park” was published in the history. It was probably written when Elizabeth moved to the Barber farm. Emma sent one of her poems to George. It was supposed to be about their house. “We have sent you a piece of poetry that Mrs. Davy composed about our ‘Old House.’ I am sure you will like it though you may not understand all the allusions she makes use of as well as we do.”

                            Kiddsley Park Farm, Smalley, in 1898.  (note that the Housley’s lived at Kiddsley Grange Farm, and the Davy’s at neighbouring Kiddsley Park Farm)

                            Kiddsley Park Farm

                             

                            Emma was not sure if George wanted to hear the local gossip (“I don’t know whether such little particulars will interest you”), but shared it anyway. In November 1855: “We have let the house to Mr. Gribble. I dare say you know who he married, Matilda Else. They came from Lincoln here in March. Mrs. Gribble gets drunk nearly every day and there are such goings on it is really shameful. So you may be sure we have not very pleasant neighbors but we have very little to do with them.”

                            John Else and his wife Hannah and their children John and Harriet (who were born in Smalley) lived in Tag Hill in 1851. With them lived a granddaughter Matilda Gribble age 3 who was born in Lincoln. A Matilda, daughter of John and Hannah, was christened in 1815. (A Sam Else died when he fell down the steps of a bar in 1855.)

                            #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.

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