So Sad

              

                                     Emily is on the right.

I’m so upset. I came home from school after a good morning. I gave my Remembrance Day presentation to the year group for our classroom Assembly. I’d made a few improvements on last year and it went down very well, although it could have been better. I fluffed my words a couple of times, which didn’t bother anyone except me.

So when I got home I was feeling quite happy. I decided to go and plant some Wild Daffodil bulbs down in my wilderness garden.

As I went down the garden Abigail came to meet me on the bridge and I could tell she was upset. There was no sign of Emily and I supposed she had found her way through the fence, she’s done it a couple of times before.

While I was planting the bulbs I came across a lot of feathers. I think it’s quite safe to assume that Emily is no more. She was a large , heavy bird and there was no sign of blood, nor was there any feather’s other than in one small area. I think it may have been a Buzzard, as a fox would have to have left a trail of feathers as he dragged her away.

I feel awful for Emily and also for Abigail, who is distraught, she kept running around as if something was chasing her. When I went near the Ark she followed me and ran straight up to bed, so I’ve locked her away for the rest of the day.

I don’t know what to do now. Do I let her out tomorrow, knowing she will probably suffer the same fate. She loves having the freedom of our large garden. She will be so lonely and miserable being shut in her run.

Do I get her a friend from the ‘Rescue a Battery Hen’ people? But they might not get on and Abigail is nearly 4 years old, so she might die soon and then the new one will be left on her own.

I’m worried sick that there is an injured Emily somewhere but being realistic I think, probably not.

This is such a horrible thing to happen.

I was going to share a poem which has particular relevance at this time of year and I think I still will, even though it makes this entry totally depressing.

It’s a poem I copied from a now defunct Black Country Website, called Cradley Links.

It is written as ‘way spake rahnd ere.’ You might wish to amuse yourselves trying to translate it. The dialect where my family come from is very close to Anglo Saxon and has many similarities with German.

If you can manage to get through it, its a very touching poem, which never fails to bring a tear to my eye.

I hope to do a more cheerful weekly entry over the weekend but tonight I think I will drown my sorrows. Why on earth had I chosen chicken for dinner tonight?

I know this picture doesn't go with the poem as that is about Gallipoli and this is a scene from Chateau Wood in Flanders but to me it sums up the horrors of WW1 and it is  near where my Great Uncle Albert Harrold died in 1915, he was aged 32 and his body was never found. His name is on the Menin Gate at Ypres.

     

It may help if I explain 'Wor'means wasn't and 'ood means would. Try your best with the rest.

 

      'Let us never forget'

IF I KNEW I WOR CUMMIN' BACK

If I knew I wor cummin' back, thairs things I 'ood 'ave sed I'd 'ave tode 'er mooer times 'ow much I luved 'er an' tucked the kids up tieter in bed A good nite inthe boozer with me mates, me last goodbyes ter all But I thort I woz invincerbul I wor ever gooin' ter fall I woz gooin'ter do me bit, I woz that sort of mon I'd jine the Woosters, for I 'new they'd got many a Craidlee son. If I knew I wor cummin' back, I'd 'ave rote mooer oftun than I did I'd 'ave tode 'er it 'ood be alrite and sum of the things I'd done an' sid (seen) Me mates woz all around me, born an' bred in Craidlee town I thort we woz soopermen and wor ever gooin' down The Woosters 'ad trained us well, we 'new wot we 'ad ter do But we wor gooin' ter France, but ter sumw'eer new If I knew I wor cummin' back, I think I'd still 'ave gon She 'ood 'ave whanted me ter jine, an' be proud of 'er mon Ter plairces, sum I'd never 'erd on afower, we went Befower we got ter Gallipoli, w'eer we 'ad bin sent We landed at a plairce nairmed Helles, an' it woz truly hell On the sond we woz 'ommered with bullet, shrapnul an'shell If I knew I wor cummin' back, I think I'd 'ave tried ter med mooer of me life But I 'oodn't 'ave changed 'er, she woz the perfect wife We got used ter life under fire, we knew w'en ter duck and dive We woz the Woosters from Craidlee and knew 'ow ter stay alive Ower time 'ood soon be 'ere, we 'ood mek them Turks run We 'ood soon be up out of ower trenches, chargin' with bayonet and gun If I knew I wor cummin' back I'd 'ave rote that fineul day She 'ood 'ave red it ter the kids the last things thair dad 'ad ter say In swelterin' 'eat we waited for ower time ter charge the foe Wot'ood it be like? We woz soon gooin' ter know As we charged the Turkish lines, not a slacker woz there 'ere We went forward, feelin' a mixture of excitement, pride an' fear If I knew I wor cummin' back I'd 'ave left 'er picture back atcamp This lickwidcummin' from me chest ull meck it sticky an' damp A'ommer like blow 'ad 'nocked me down, an' I lay in the dust I'd got ter get up an'goo on an' 'elp me mates, I must Jimmy Clark, Tummy Green and Dave Reynolds were lyin' not far away It woz if the flower of Craidlee woz dyin' all around me that day I just lay theer, I felt so tired, I coodn't move, no matter 'ow I tried Surely this wor the end, this coodn't be 'ow yo felt w'en yo died Suddenly I saw the missus an' the kids sittin' around me bed I 'erd 'er say "Yo've dun yower bit, now goo ter sleep, rest yer weary yed" 'er fairce slowly vanished an' everything went black Then I knew - I wor never cummin' back

Dedicated to all who fought in the Gallipoli Campaign, especially the men from Cradley with the 4th and 9th Battalions of the Worcestershire Regiment.

 

 

The Gunpowder Plot and My Family

          

 

 

Today is 5th November, otherwise known as Bonfire Night, or Guy Fawkes Night. Fires are used to burn effigies of Guy Fawkes, whose name for the last 400 years has been associated with a plot to kill the King.

 

Traditionally, even after the introduction of Christianity to Great Britain, bonfires would be held at this time of year, as a continuation of the Pagan traditions. It was the end of their year and the fires, along with some other dubious activities, would ensure good crops for the coming year. After 1605 the two traditions merged and gave the Pagan tradition a more respectable meaning.

 

In 1605 Guy Fawkes, along with other Catholic Plotters attempted to blow up Parliament, with the new King, James the First. The Catholics had hoped this new King they would bring a change in their fortunes and they would be able to practise their faith unhindered. That was not the case; James introduced even harsher laws than those under ‘Good Queen Bess’.  So certain people decided he must go.

 

This plot had tragic consequences on my own family.

 

By 1901 all of the branches of my family lived in a Black Country village called Rowley Regis. All,

except for one branch, had lived there for centuries.

 

There was Rowley Village itself, perched on top of a Basalt outcrop, its church visible for miles. The rest of the area was made up of 20 plus Hamlets.

 

I am fiercely proud of my Ancestry and the people who came from Rowley Regis. They were the hardest working, most interesting people you could ever meet and even today you will still hear older people talking in the dialect unique to this area, which is almost pure Anglo Saxon. My step father being one of them. For example ‘ Yo bay gooin dahn there am ya?  Meaning ‘You’re not going down there are you?’

 

Farming was the main occupation back in the time of The Gunpowder Plot but the soil was poor and living was hard. This was before the Industrial Revolution and the discovery of the mineral wealth in the hills and the 30-foot seam of coal that ran through the area.

 

I shouldn’t have started this, as I could go on forever about the Nail Shops in the back yards, women working alongside men, stripped to the waist. What a fuss that made when the Nail Industry declined and many went to work in Doulton’s new Sanitary Ware Pottery. Mr Doulton was horrified to find the women working in that state and is recorded has having found the Rowley women ‘most troublesome’!

 

I think there is a strong streak of those women in me, although I haven’t yet resorted to working topless.

 

Then of course there was the drunken Organist and Choirmaster in my Ruston line. I really do think I shall have to write a book one day.

 

Anyway back to 1605. The plotters made a complete hash of everything, the plot failed and they went on the run. This was the undoing of Thomas Smart, a member of my family.

 

As a child I was told one of my family had been hanged but as with childhood memories, some of the facts seem to have been distorted over the years. I had assumes it was a Harper, who supposedly came from Scotland originally and I think I made the assumption he was part of the Army supporting the Royalists in The Civil War.

 

It was only quite recently that I spoke to one of my older cousins, who had a clearer memory of what had been passed down, verbally, from our grandparents, who were born in the 1880’s.

 

It was actually a member of the Smart family, my father’s father’s mother was Mary Smart and her father Thomas was a Blacksmith. His father another Thomas, born 1779, was a farmer at Oakham, one of the Hamlets of Rowley.

 

The family legend was that a Smart had been hanged for a part in The Gunpowder Plot.

 

As this tales has been passed down by word of mouth and knowing how little the families moved from Rowley, I thought there was a possibility there was some truth in the tale but was still a bit sceptical.

 

It came as quite a shock, when I did a Google on the Smart name and The Gunpowder Plot to find there is quite a bit of evidence to indicate the family tale was true.

 

The Wolverhampton website seems quite proud that the trial of Thomas Smart and John Holyhead were carried out there.

 

When I first looked into this, one of the articles I found said that Thomas had not wanted to shelter the traitors but had been forced to because of that the Judge was asked to be lenient with the sentence.

He wasn’t. I can’t find that article now, which is a shame. That also ties in with the second part of the tale, that there had been some talk that he may have escaped the death sentence.

 

The Judge was specially brought in from Ludlow for the trial.

 

This is just one of a number of references I found but I hope to go to Stafford Record Office to find out more one day.

 

Two farmers, Thomas Smart and John Holyhead of Rowley Regis, were hanged in High Green, now Queen Square, in January 1606, for sheltering some of the Gunpowder Plotters who had fled to the midlands. The pair played no part in the original plot but nevertheless suffered the traitor's death of hanging, drawing and quartering on butcher's blocks set up in the square a few days before the execution of Guy Fawkes and several other plotters in London.

 

 

I haven’t traced back my family to the actual Thomas who was executed but as this tale has been passed down for so long and back in the early 1800’s there was only one Smart family in Rowley Regis, I have no reason to doubt the poor man was one of my ancestors.

 

As for the rest of the week, well just busy as usual. Thursday was a day trip with school to Coughton Court, in Warwickshire, by sheer coincidence the home of one of the Gunpowder Plotters. It was a sunny day but chilly and one of the little dears managed to fall backwards into a pond! She wasn’t hurt and thankfully her coat was fairly waterproof.

 

There are some beautiful pictures to look at above from the trip.

 

The picture at the top page is from next-door’s fireworks last night. We were invited round but Harper was a bit upset, so we joined in from our side of the fence with nuts and a glass of wine. I have never seen so many fireworks, they were going off all around us, we sat on the patio and had about an hour and a half’s free display.

 

I must get off to The Farmer’s Market now, Mike’s working all day, so I’m going to see if I can buy myself a nice Farmer.

 

 

 

 

 

Batsford Arboretum

This isn’t my weekly entry, I will do that tomorrow and  will include, as promised to Kate, a bit about my ancestor who suffered a Traitor’s death following The Gunpowder Plot. Tonight I’m just posting some pictures from our trip on Tuesday to Batsford Arboretum.

One of the joys of my job at present is that I finish work at 12.45pm most days. That means if Mike isn’t working we get a chance to go out and do things, so I suppose you could call us semi-retired.

 

The weather this week has been beautiful and after the hectic week last week we thought we’d have a bit of ‘Me time’.

 

Batsford is a large house set at the bottom of an escarpment in The Cotswolds; just down the hill from Bourton on the Hill and before you get to Moreton in Marsh. Don’t you just love these Cotswold names?

 

Algernon Freeman Mitford, later Lord Redesdale, built the house in the late 1800’s. He was the grandfather of the famous, or should I say, infamous Mitford Girls, who lived in the house until 1936, when it was sold to Gilbert Willis, later the first Lord Dulverton. (If you want a good title, I suggest you buy this house!)

 

Lord Redesdale was greatly influenced by Chinese and Japanese landscapes. And there are over 1600 different species of trees and shrubs in the Arboretum.

 

 

   

I’m not an expert at photography but I was very pleased with some of the photos.  I think they explain themselves, although I have put a caption to the Magnolia seed pod, which are normally quite rare but for some reason they have turned up in their thousands this year and have been the most asked question at my husband's Gardener's Question time. 

 

 

Pictures and A O Hell!

Last night I was ready to throw this computer out of the window. I was trying to upload a few photos into my Journal page and at every screen AOL kept dropping me back to a Google page. It was driving me mad and took soooooo long!!!!

 

In the end I was falling asleep whilst waiting for the pages to change, so didn’t insert all the ones I wanted, one of them being this.

 

               

My little smiley pumpkin, Isabella.  How can anything be that bad when this greets you, first thing in the morning.

 

I was too tired to put the rest of the photos at the top. I know some of my friends and family, who live abroad, like to see lots of photos, so they can see what’s going on at home. So that's what this entry is for.

 

I had to go for a Bone Density Scan this afternoon, I get the results next week.

 

I’m feeling bits depressed now, as I don’t think the results are going to be good. Mum has Osteoporosis and I have a lot of back pain if I’m on my feet for more than an hour. I had an almighty shock when they measured my height today. I had an idea I’d lost some height but thought maybe it’s just that I tend to wear flatter shoes these days. No. That was not the answer. I am shorter, a lot shorter. I used to be 5 foot 7 and a half inches tall. Today I was 5 foot 6 inches. I’m only 53; if I carry on at this rate I’ll be 4 foot be the time I reach 65!

 

Still I don't suppose the depression will last too long, how can it when I'm married to this?

 

        

 Catherine in France, don't you wish you'd been here?

 

Emma, if you look at the pictures at the top you'll see your mum in the same wig, it's not a good look!

 

It's well and truly dark now and its only quarter to six.I think I shall go and bung the dinner in the oven and we'll go to our local pub for a pint and a chat before dinner. Have to while away these long dark evenings somehow.

 

 

 

 

            

 

Where on earth did the last week go?I’ve had a lovely time but phewwwww…….. was it busy?

 

I don’t know what’s been happening in the world, I’ve barely had time to keep an eye on Journals, every time I’ve signed on I’ve had 60 emails, or more!

 

Catherine & Isabella arrived on Monday night and I met their flight at Birmingham Airport at 8.30pm. The little love had been no trouble on her first flight. She had a bottle for take off, to prevent ear problems. Went to sleep for half an hour, then woke up when the ‘PINGGG’ happened to announce some turbulence and spent the next half an hour talking to the overhead light.

 

As soon as she saw me there was a slightly puzzled ‘don’t I know you look’ followed by a big smile. She is just the best natured 4-month-old baby I have ever known, with smiles for everyone.

 

Tuesday was a family get together at my Mother’s house and the best bit was that Mum’s cousin, Joan, was over from America. Joan adores Catherine, so what fantastic timing that they were both in England together.

 

Wednesday was getting Catherine’s hair fixed, plus some shopping and Thursday, Flo flew over to join them.

 

Friday, we all went to Bath to have lunch with Mike’s daughter Sue, her husband John and their two girls Chloe and Abigail. It was Sue’s 38th birthday and we lunched in the Pump Rooms. OMG! If anywhere was ever more English, well I can’t imagine where it is. Chandeliers, high ceilings, a pianist playing and camp waiters in long aprons, it was heavenly. It was quite expensive compared with a Pub Meal but £108 for 8 meals and drinks didn’t seem OTT for the experience.

 

There are windows overlooking the Roman Baths and you can sample the water, which I didn’t think tasted too bad but it’s warm yeuchhh! If there is one thing I don’t drink its warm water.

 

Friday night I made Pate and sausages rolls, with sausages from our ‘Best in Britain’ butcher in Malvern, his award winning sausages taste like Christmas Dinner and are just wonderful.

 

Saturday was absolute madness, I did a buffet for20 people and at 12.30 they started to arrive. Apart from the Prawn and the Salmon sandwiches everything was ready and for once I can say the kids actually chipped in and helped AND their partners. We sent Mike to the shops for last minute items, as that’s what he does best.

 

 

We partied all day and then when the older family left, Catherine’s friend arrived from Stoke, with her husband and son Jacob and my sister with partner Malcolm, his daughter Bec and boyfriend Steve.

 

This fibre optic pumpkin was from the market.

 

                           

                   

Isabella wore her Pumpkin suit that I bought her and looked so cute.

 

We had roast pork baps and homemade soups. Watched Fireworks in the garden and had the opening ceremony for the gate Mike hung a few weeks ago and I just haven’t had time to mention.

 

 

Mike is not a handyman, in fact the only thing handy about him is that I can usually find him lying next to me in bed. And that can’t always be guaranteed as he often wakes at 6am and gets up then.

 

Mike is a Bodger. He will have a go at DIY but isn’t very skilled, so Bodges things. But…, for once he  did something right. Our old gate was falling apart. I ordered a new one, off the Internet and fully expected to have to get a man in to hang it but no! Mike thought he’d have a go and he did it. It opens and shuts, like you would expect a gate to do and SEEMS quite secure. So, it was worthy of an official opening ceremony and the pictures can be seen above but here is one showing just how proud he was of his well-hung gate. There is a pub near here called The Gate Hangs Well and so obviously it quite something in the male world to get it hanging right.

 

Sunday was a quiet day, thank god. In the evening we went for an Indian Buffet in town, which isn’t town, it’s a City but that doesn’t work does it? You can’t say I’m going into City tonight can you? Anyway, it was a fabulous meal.

 

Monday, it was back to school and in the evening I took Catherine, Flo & Isabella back to the Airport.

 

Today, Halloween has been lovely. Morning was spent at school and in the afternoon Mike & I went to Batsford Arboretum, just outside Moreton in Marsh, in the Cotswolds. The photos I took were lovely and I will post them later in the week.

 

We got home at dusk and then had a succession of Trick or Treaters. I am exhausted, so am going to bed now.

 

Apologies if I haven’t commented on your Journal, I just haven’t had time, hopefully things will be back to normal now. I will put more pictures on later.

 

 

 

 

Everyone seems to be doing this, so I decided to have a go.

 

1. Grab the nearest book. If you are currently reading something, that'll be fine too.

2. Open the book to page 123.

3. Find the fifth sentence.

4. Post the text of the next 4 sentences on your Blog along with these instructions.

5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet I know that is what you were thinking!

6. Tag 5 people

Well I won't bother to tag five people - as I say above do this if you like and leave your link in the comments below.

So here is the book I grabbed, The Black Country by Edward Chitham.

 

He prided himself on being a plain speaking man; he intended when he went up to Westminster to reform the church, make the Bank of Englandthe servant, not the master of the people and curb the power of the "selfish obligarchy of the landlords who ruled the country with a rod of iron and made the agricultrual districts one vast truck shop."Despite these proud and hearty words Mr Fryer sat in one Parliament only, thereafter retiring tho his country seat at The Wergs, his coat of arms duly granted him i 1825.

 

By the mid-nineteenth century the Black Country had earned its name, though no one knows who first christened it. Dickens, writing in the Old Curiosity Shop in 1841, called it a Black Region "where not a blade of grass was seen to grow, where not a bud put forth its promise in the spring., where nothing green could live  but on the surface of a  stagnant pool. Dickens was of course a specialist in the  Macabre and on his visits here he must have been pleased to store up visual memories, whic he could refashion  into descriptions for his novels.

One Day Until Catherine & Isabella Arrive!

School was demented; I hardly had a second to speak to anyone, what with the Harvest Festival on Thursday and Parent Consultation Friday, it was tough.

 

But now I’m  off for a week, what bliss. I have so much catching up to do around the house and Catherine & Isabella arrive tomorrow!!!

 

I did my entry for the Mass Blog and included in it a link to this Journal so that, if anyone ever manages to find it, they will see my son dressed as Britney Spears! Ha, ha.

 

Someone asked about the ‘Full Monty Year’ and I have to say, yes he and his two friends, Chris and Chris did do the Full Monty routine, from the film of the same name. Not just once but twice!

 

Each year they would decide on something to amuse the staff for the Christmas Dinner. I chose not to go to the dinner and disco as I didn’t want to cramp his style but then they decided to do at again at the Canteen disco. I’m pleased to say that modesty got the better of him at the end, probablt because people kept saying, " Your Mum's here," So he kept his pants on. I was going to say pulled out at the last second but given the subject, thought that sounded a bit distasteful. However, one of the Chris’ was obviously so pleased with his physique that he danced around starkers for a good five minutes and he wasn't very accurate about keeping his hat strategically placed.

There weren’t many sausages on sticks eaten that day!!!

 

Tuesday I met my mother’s cousin Joan, for lunch. She is over here from Adams, Massachusetts. It’s her family I have been researching our Welsh/Belgian side for. It was lovely to see her again and she is really pressing for Mike and I to go and stay with her. She has a wonderful apartment in a converted Mill. I think it’s time I plucked up courage for the flight and I will aim to go next year.

 

Hello! …..What’s that I hear? Sounds like a chicken to me.

 

I can’t believe this; I just heard a gentle clucking from the hall. I’d been downloading photos so I had the camera to hand.

 

 

Hmm, Emily seems to have taken a wrong turn here, I thinkshe may have been looking for the bathroom. I've heard of Chicken in the Barn, or even Chicken in the Basket but this is ridiculous.

 

Something that has been annoying me this week is Spam. No, not that pink tinned meat (?) that people lived on in the War. The email variety. Is anyone else getting this sort of stuff, which is somehow getting through my filters?

 

The photon

A non-chalantly geosynchronous support group laughs out loud, and a cashier behind the blood clot almost recognizes a fire hydrant. The football team living with a rattlesnake pees on a thoroughly twisted scooby snack. Indeed, the buzzard underhandedly caricatures some crank case. The hydrogen atom behind an anomaly is overpriced. Most people believe that the stovepipe can be kind to a satellite, but they need to remember how secretly a bartender inside a ball bearing hesitates.

 

Or, how do you like this one?

 

Hi look

Would you turn her loose again the way she is? was all he <galaxy. For all we know she is still on the way. The

way of being a bit of an entomologist myself, if you will

the room. All this meant he was due for early

 

Is anyone else getting this sort of nonsense? Does anyone know what the purpose is? I keep reporting it as Spam but I’m wondering now if it’s a nutter that has read my Blog and thinks I might be interested in the machinations of their deranged mind. If this is the sort of reader I’m attracting, I think I’d better stop now. The worrying thing is I actually found some of it funny. If I ever find they start to make sense, I shall have to increase my medication.

 

Yesterday we had a lovely day out and I have some truly wonderful photos. No credit to me, it’s all down to the light and subject matter.

I won’t put them in the page, apart from one as a taster, as that means reducing them and they need to be seen clearly.

 

 

This is Baddesley Clinton, a moated Manor House , the earliest part of the house and  the moat were built in the 15thC.

 

I think they will be of particular interest to any American readers as it is English countryside and history at it most vibrant, colourful best. The light this time of year, on a sunny day, is amazing.

 

I took Mike for lunch at the Saxon Mill, just outside Warwick, where we had an excellent meal, although not cheap. £9.50 for Sausage and Mash sounds expensive but it was a bit special and with a red wine gravy. No, I will not call it Jus. It’s gravy.

 

Mike had a Pork Terrine and French Fries. But it was so comfortable there with a roaring log fire and big squashy, leather sofas. We had to drag ourselves away to go and visit a couple of National Trust properties, Packwood House and Baddesley Clinton.

 

I did the same thing with my friend Sue a few weeks ago and I wanted to take Mike there as it made such a lovely afternoon.

 

We went to Packwood House first and then on to Baddesley Clinton, which has a Tea Room in a converted barn and their cakes are wonderful. Sadly they didn’t have the Carrot Cake, which is the best I’ve tasted anywhere.

 

Please take the time to look at the photos at the top of this entry.

 

A picture I took of Merlin this week, he didn't seem too happy that I caught him sleeping with this dog.

 

 

Oh Mum! Leave me alone!!!

 

Time now for me to put the finishing touches to the Guest bedroom, Catherine & Isabella arrive tomorrow. Did I mention that?